Soobin’s head was tipped back against the pillows, lips parted, soft, breathy moans spilling from his mouth with every roll of your hips. His hands gripped your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he tried to match your rhythm, rutting up into you in awkward, uneven thrusts. It wasn’t bad. It felt… nice, you suppose. Warm and familiar. The kind of comfortable pleasure that used to be enough. But tonight, as you sank down onto him again, taking him to the hilt, your mind betrayed you.

With only Jungkook on it. The memory hit you like a spark against dry tinder. The way he had gripped your hips with bruising strength, yanking you down onto his thick cock like he owned your body. How deep he had reached inside you, stretching you so perfectly it bordered on pain and pleasure at the same time. The filthy, wet sounds he’d drawn from your dripping pussy while he fucked you stupid— with relentless confidence that was devastating. You could still feel the ghost of his hands, the way his hips had snapped against your ass, the way he’d growled praises and filth in that low, velvet voice while Soobin watched.

A shiver ran down your spine. Your walls fluttered involuntarily around Soobin’s cock at the thought, and he groaned louder beneath you, mistaking it for your pleasure.

“Fuck, baby… you feel so good,” Soobin panted, his voice strained with arousal. His hands slid up your sides, cupping your breasts before his fingers found your nipples. He pinched them, too hard, too suddenly, causing a sharp jolt of discomfort to cut through the building heat. You winced, instinctively grabbing his wrists and guiding his hands back down to your waist.

“Gentler,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice soft, not wanting to kill the mood. “They’re sensitive tonight.”

Soobin’s eyes fluttered open, a flash of guilt crossing his flushed face. “Shit— sorry,” he breathed, immediately loosening his touch. His thumbs brushed over your nipples in careful, apologetic circles. “Like this?”

You nodded, offering him a small smile before you stopped bouncing. Instead, you began to rock your hips in slow, deliberate grinds, rolling forward and back so his cock rubbed against different angles inside you. The new motion created a steadier friction against your front wall, and you let out a shaky breath, chasing it. Soobin’s hands returned to your ass, squeezing more gently this time as he moaned beneath you, eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, voice thick with adoration. “Riding me so well… I love watching you take all of me.” His hips continued their slightly clumsy upward thrusts, trying to meet your grinding rhythm, but it still felt just a little off. It was too gentle and too uncoordinated compared to the brutal, precise way Jungkook had used your body.

You brought one hand down between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit. The added stimulation made your breath hitch. You rubbed tight, fast circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves while continuing to grind down on Soobin’s cock, your hips moving in messy, desperate little circles. Pleasure sparked brighter now, warm and tingling, but it still wasn’t enough. Not even close. Your body remembered what it was like to be properly fucked and stretched open, pounded deep, ruined until you were sobbing and squirting around a much thicker cock.

Jungkook’s face flashed behind your closed eyelids again. The way he’d looked down at you while buried to the hilt, dark eyes blazing with lust and control. The way he’d spanked your ass hard enough to sting while ordering you around. The filthy, wet sounds. The way he’d filled you with his cum so deep you could still feel it days later.

A quiet, needy whimper slipped from your lips. Your fingers moved faster on your clit, pressing harder as you rocked more insistently on Soobin’s length. He moaned louder in response, hands kneading your ass encouragingly.

“That’s it, baby… keep going. You’re getting so wet,” he praised, voice trembling with his own building pleasure. “Fuck, I’m so close already…”

You bit your lip, eyes squeezed shut as you chased the edge that felt just out of reach. The pleasure was there— simmering, growing— but it lacked the overwhelming intensity you now craved. Every grind, every circle of your fingers brought you closer, but the memory of Jungkook’s cock slamming into you, his tongue fucking your ass, his hands owning every inch of your body, kept pulling you deeper into dangerous thoughts.

You needed more.

You kept grinding on Soobin’s cock for a few more moments, hips rolling in messy circles as your fingers worked frantically over your clit. The pleasure built in shallow waves, warm and pleasant, but never cresting into the overwhelming bliss you craved. Frustration simmered beneath your skin, mixing with the growing ache between your thighs. No matter how you moved, how hard you rubbed, it wasn’t enough. The memory of Jungkook’s brutal thrusts kept flashing behind your eyes, making your walls clench around Soobin’s length in involuntary pulses.

With a quiet, dissatisfied sound, you suddenly lifted yourself off him completely. His cock slipped out of your soaked pussy with a wet sound, slapping against his stomach. Soobin let out a deep, surprised groan, his hands instinctively reaching for your hips as if to pull you back down.

“Baby… what’s wrong?” he panted, voice thick with confusion and lingering arousal. His chest heaved, eyes wide and glassy as he looked up at you. “Did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to keep your expression soft even as impatience flickered through you. “Nothing’s wrong,” you murmured, already shifting on the bed. “I just… I want it from behind. Please.”

Soobin blinked, then nodded eagerly, his flushed face lighting up with renewed enthusiasm. “Yeah— okay. Whatever you want.” He sat up as you flipped yourself over, getting onto your hands and knees on the mattress. You arched your back deeply, pushing your ass toward him in invitation. The cool air kissed your dripping folds, making you shiver with anticipation.

Soobin moved behind you, his hands tentative as they settled on your hips. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock through your slickness a couple of times before slowly pushing in. The stretch was familiar, comforting even, but once he was fully seated, he started thrusting, it was slow, slightly uncoordinated movements that lacked the power and precision you now knew you needed. His hips rolled against your ass in gentle, almost careful strokes, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“Faster,” you breathed, pushing back against him. “I need it faster, Soobin.”

He obeyed immediately, picking up the pace. His thrusts grew quicker, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room again. One of his hands lifted and came down in a light smack against your ass cheek, more playful than anything else. It didn’t sting the way you wanted it to. It felt awkward, almost hesitant, and you had to bite back a sigh of frustration.

“Rougher,” you urged, voice edging toward desperate. “Grab my hair. Be rough with me.”

Soobin’s rhythm faltered for a second. “Are you sure?” he asked, breath shaky. “I don’t want to hurt you—”

You huffed, annoyance flashing hot through your chest. Turning your head slightly, you looked back at him with a mix of need and impatience. “Yes, I’m sure. Just fuck me hard, Soobin. Please.”

He swallowed visibly, then tried. His grip on your hips tightened, and he began thrusting harder, faster, snapping his hips against your ass with more force. One hand tangled awkwardly in your hair, pulling just enough to make your head tilt back. The new intensity helped a little, with the deeper angle, the sharper sounds of your bodies colliding, but it still wasn’t enough. His thrusts were eager but lacked the raw, dominating power that had left you sobbing and squirting. You needed to be used, claimed and ruined.

You slid one hand underneath your body, fingers finding your swollen, aching clit once more. Closing your eyes tightly, you let your mind drift fully to Jungkook. The image flooded in instantly: his tattooed hands bruising your hips as he yanked you back onto his thick cock, the way he’d growled filthy praises while pounding you senseless, how he’d eaten your ass like a man possessed before fucking you even harder. You remembered the devastating stretch of him, the way he’d made you scream his name, the hot flood of his cum deep inside you.

Your fingers rubbed faster, tighter circles on your clit as you pushed back to meet Soobin’s thrusts, imagining it was Jungkook behind you instead. The fantasy made everything sharper, hotter. Pleasure coiled tighter in your belly, finally building toward that elusive peak.

Soobin moaned loudly behind you, his voice breathy and whiny. “Fuck, baby… do you like it like this? You’re so tight, ahh, shit, you feel so good…” His hand in your hair tugged a little harder, but the praise came out sounding almost needy rather than commanding.

You nodded frantically against the mattress, not trusting your voice. Yes. But not like this. Not you. In your mind, it was Jungkook’s deep, velvet voice growling those words. Jungkook’s massive cock splitting you open. Jungkook’s hand fisting your hair while he railed you into oblivion.

The fantasy pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed through you suddenly, intense but still somehow incomplete. A broken moan tore from your throat as your pussy clenched rhythmically around Soobin’s cock, your fingers still rubbing desperate circles over your clit. Waves of pleasure rippled through your body, making your arms tremble and your back arch deeper. You buried your face in the sheets to muffle the sounds, riding it out while Jungkook’s name echoed silently in your head.

The feeling of you coming around him triggered Soobin’s release almost instantly. He let out a string of high, whiny moans that grated against your post-orgasm haze. The soft, almost whimpering sounds that felt jarringly different from the deep, guttural groans you’d heard from Jungkook. “Fuck— I’m cumming, baby— ahh, fuck…” His hips stuttered erratically as he spilled inside you, warm pulses filling your pussy while he trembled behind you.

You stayed quiet, biting your lip as irritation flickered through the lingering pleasure. His moans sounded too soft, too vulnerable, and way too fucking whiny in comparison to what your body now craved. Soobin finally pulled out slowly, a trickle of his cum leaking down your thigh. He flopped onto the bed beside you with a satisfied sigh, reaching out to pull you into his arms.

You let him, curling against his chest even as your mind continued to drift dangerously toward the man who had shown you exactly what you’d been missing.

One week had passed since that frustrating night when you’d ridden Soobin and then begged him to take you from behind, only to end up chasing Jungkook’s ghost in your mind just to tip over the edge. In the days that followed, the dissatisfaction had only deepened, settling into your bones like a persistent ache that refused to fade. You and Soobin had sex two more times, once in the shower after a long day, and once late at night after a movie when the mood felt right but both encounters had left you even more hollow than before.

The shower sex had started with slippery kisses and wandering hands, but it quickly fell into the same familiar rhythm. Soobin pressed you against the tiled wall, entering you from behind with slow, careful thrusts while the water cascaded over your bodies. His hands were gentle on your hips, his moans soft and appreciative, but the angle felt off, his pace too steady and predictable. You tried to arch your back, to push back against him harder, whispering for him to go deeper, faster, but his responses were hesitant— they were sweet and loving, but lacking the raw intensity that made your body sing.

You’d ended up faking the last few moans, finishing yourself off with your fingers under the spray while he kissed your shoulder and told you how much he loved you. The warmth of the water couldn’t wash away the growing frustration.

The second time, two nights ago, had been even worse. You’d been on top again, desperate to make it work, grinding and bouncing with more energy than you felt. Soobin had moaned beautifully beneath you, his hands roaming your body, praising how tight and wet you were, but it all felt mechanical. Even when he tried to thrust up harder, even when you guided his hand to your clit, the pleasure remained surface-level, it was of course, pleasant enough to build a small spark, but nowhere near the firestorm Jungkook had ignited in that single session.

Afterward, as Soobin pulled you close and drifted off to sleep with a content sigh, you lay awake staring at the ceiling crack, thighs pressed together against the unresolved throb between them. Your vibrator, once a reliable escape, now felt clinical and insufficient. The buzzing toy that used to bring sharp, quick relief only left you more restless, your body craving something else completely.

By the middle of the following week, you were at your wits’ end. The constant undercurrent of dissatisfaction had seeped into every part of your daily life. Work felt distant, conversations with Soobin carried a quiet tension you couldn’t name aloud, and even simple touches from him sent a confusing mix of affection and irritation through you. You loved him— you truly did, but your body had been awakened to a hunger it refused to forget.

Nothing satisfied you anymore. Not the gentle lovemaking, not your own fingers, not the vibrator humming against your clit in the bathroom late at night. The memories of Jungkook’s hands, his mouth, his thick cock stretching and ruining you while Soobin watched, played on an endless loop in your mind, growing more vivid with each passing day.

It was a quiet Thursday afternoon when the decision hit you like a sudden, irresistible pull. Soobin was at work, buried in another long meeting, and the apartment felt too small and way too stifling with the weight of your unspoken needs. You sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, your heart hammering as you stared at your phone. You held the business card, creased but still legible, it had been tucked in your drawer like a guilty secret. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed your keys and bag, slipping on a simple sundress that felt both innocent and dangerously intentional.

The drive across town passed in a haze of nerves and anticipation, your thighs pressing together against the leather seat as memories flooded back unbidden. Every red light gave you too much time to think about how Jungkook had looked at you and how his voice had dropped when he told you exactly what your body needed. It had made you remember just how effortlessly he had made you fall apart.

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, heat blooming low in your belly despite the guilt twisting in your chest. You told yourself you only wanted to talk. Just a conversation. He was a licensed sex therapist, after all. He could tell you if something was wrong with you, if you were the broken one who could no longer find satisfaction in the man you loved. He could give you advice, exercises, something— anything— to fix this aching void inside you.

By the time you pulled into the parking lot near his private practice, your pulse was racing. You sat in the car for several long minutes, staring at the sleek building through the windshield, rehearsing the words you wanted to say. I just want to talk. Is there something wrong with me? Why can’t I feel satisfied anymore? The memory of his dark eyes and commanding presence made your breath catch, but you forced yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. This was professional. Nothing more, you reminded yourself.

You finally stepped out of the car, the warm afternoon air brushing against your skin as you walked toward the entrance, heart pounding harder with every step. You pushed open the heavy glass door, the cool rush of air-conditioned air brushing against your flushed skin like a gentle reprieve from the warm afternoon outside. The waiting room was quiet and serene, just as you remembered, the soft instrumental music drifting through hidden speakers mixed with the faint, calming scent of sandalwood and clean linen wrapping around you.

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest as you stepped inside, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter for courage. The receptionist behind the sleek front desk looked up with a warm, professional smile, her eyes kind and unsurprised. “Good afternoon,” she greeted smoothly, folding her hands on the desk. “Do you have an appointment today?”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “I… um, no,” you stuttered, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I don’t. I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I was hoping maybe Dr. Jeon had a few minutes? I only wanted to talk.”

The receptionist nodded politely, no judgment in her expression, and picked up the phone on her desk. She dialed quickly, the soft ringtone audible even from where you stood shifting nervously on your feet. You assumed she was calling straight into Jungkook’s office. As it rang, she offered you another small smile, murmuring that he was currently with a patient but she’d check. You nodded mutely, ears straining as someone picked up on the other end. Her voice lowered respectfully as she spoke, mentioning that you were here without an appointment, waiting in the lobby. You couldn’t make out his exact words, only the faint, low timbre of his muffled voice filtering through the receiver, calm and authoritative even from a distance.

After a brief exchange, she nodded once. “Yes, sir.” She hung up the phone with a quiet click and turned back to you, her smile widening just slightly. “You can go on back. He’ll see you now.”

Relief flooded through you so strongly that your knees felt momentarily weak. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been wound up until that moment. Nodding gratefully, you murmured a soft thank you and made your way down the familiar hallway toward his office door, each step echoing your racing pulse. The door was closed, just as it had been last time. You paused outside it for a heartbeat, taking a deep, steadying breath before raising your hand and knocking softly.

“Come in,” came Jungkook’s faint voice from inside.

You turned the handle and pushed the door open, stepping into the elegant, minimalist office. The scene inside made you freeze for a second. Jungkook sat in his large leather chair behind the desk, one long leg crossed casually over the other, a notepad resting on his lap as he scribbled something down with focused, precise strokes of his pen. His black button-down was fitted perfectly across his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to reveal those intricate tattoos snaking along his forearms. He looked every bit as devastatingly handsome and composed as you remembered.

Across from him, on the couch where you and Soobin had sat last time, was a woman, mid-thirties maybe, dressed sharply but clearly agitated. She fidgeted restlessly, arms crossed tightly over her chest in a defensive huff, her leg bouncing with barely contained irritation. The tension in the room was thick, almost palpable, and you immediately felt like an intruder.

“Oh— hello,” you stuttered, eyes darting between them. “I’m so sorry if I’m interrupting. I can always come back later, or make a proper appointment—”

The woman began to nod vigorously, her lips pursing. “Yes, you are interrupting,” she said sharply, her voice laced with frustration as she shot you a pointed look.

But Jungkook cut her off smoothly, setting his pen down with finality. “She’s just about to leave,” he stated calmly, his dark eyes flicking from you to the woman with quiet authority. There was no room for argument in his tone.

The woman stuttered, clearly caught off guard. “But you haven’t even helped me yet! Last time—”

“I’ve done all I can for you today,” Jungkook interrupted again, his voice firm yet professional, though you caught the subtle edge beneath it. “I can’t help you like last time. It’s time for you to go.”

You weren’t stupid. The implication hung heavy in the air, the way the woman’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger, the way she had been fidgeting and pushing for more. She had clearly come here expecting another “hands-on” session, just like the kind Jungkook had given you and Soobin. But he was shutting it down. Firmly. You felt a strange, awkward twist in your stomach, heat creeping up your neck as you stood there witnessing the exchange.

The woman snatched her purse from the couch with a dramatic huff, shooting Jungkook one last wounded glare before stalking past you toward the door. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she yanked the door open and disappeared down the hallway without another word. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the soft click of the door closing behind her.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, then turned his full attention to you. His dark eyes softened just slightly, though that intense, knowing gaze remained. “Sit down,” he said gently, gesturing toward the couch across from him.

You obeyed without thinking, lowering yourself onto the plush cushions, your sundress riding up slightly against your thighs. Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you tried to gather your thoughts.

“Where’s Soobin?” Jungkook asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other again. The movement was casual, but the way his eyes traveled slowly over you— taking in your flushed cheeks, the way you sat, the subtle press of your thighs together, felt anything but.

“I… came on a whim,” you admitted quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “He’s at work. I didn’t plan this, I just… needed to talk to someone. To you.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. He studied you for a long moment, that small, knowing smirk gradually curving his full lips as he uncrossed and recrossed his legs, leaning forward just enough to close some of the distance between you. His gaze dragged up and down your body once more, a slow, deliberate look, before settling on your eyes.

“What can I help you with?” he asked, voice dropping into that low, velvet tone that sent a shiver racing straight down your spine.

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