botticelli’s painting

Michael Jackson was very, very stupid.

When you showed him your outfit for tonight, he nearly had a panic attack. You looked edible, and you were all his. He got so giddy at the thought of it.

You wore a long, mesh-like, black dress with gold accents and a plunging back, accompanied by red lace detail settled on your tailbone. It matched his extravagant jacket perfectly. Your smooth skin peeked out from the material in all the right places, and your legs looked magnificent. You wore a pair of gold red bottoms to accentuate the look, knowing Michael loved it when you wore high heels.

He had absolutely no complaints, other than one; he wanted to take the dress off of you as soon as you got it on.

“C’mon, we’re only 15 minutes from the venue. It won’t take us that long,” he complained.

“Michael, you cannot seriously be asking me for a quickie right now. You know how long it took me to get my hair and makeup done earlier. I don’t know what those ladies did to it, and I sure as hell don’t know how to recreate it either,” you said, giving your boyfriend an incredulous look.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. You do look perfect though,” he complimented you, lifting your hand and giving it a tender kiss. “So glad you’re all mine.”

“All yours, baby,” you responded, loving the way his eyelashes fluttered at the nickname.

So yes, he was stupid. For some idiotic reason, he thought that because you were all his, that meant that you could only be seen by him.

Boy, was he dead wrong. The whole night, everyone’s eyes were on you. Because he’s stupid, he thought it was because of him, and it partially was- nobody knew who you were or why you were walking with him hand in hand, yet- but no. They were all looking at you hungrily. Looking at you the way he did. It made him sick. And the worst part? You didn’t even notice.

You looked that good and you didn’t even notice that basically everyone in attendance, man and woman, your age and older, was lusting over you.

You weren’t allowed to sit next to Michael the whole night, to your disappointment. He was getting honored with the biggest award, so he had a special table setup with all the works. The seating arrangement did, however, bless you in a way you didn’t expect. Your favorite hip hop duo, The Nebulas, had assigned seats next to yours, and it took everything in you to not fangirl over them.

During the second commercial break, one of the members reached over for your hand and shook it firmly.

“Hey there, pretty girl. I’m Marz, and this,” he gestured to his music mate, “is Mercury.”

“I know!” you answered, a little too fast, embarrassing yourself in the process.

“I mean, I’m a huge fan of y’all’s music,” you corrected, hoping your excitement didn’t ruin the moment.

“Oh, really?” Mercury questioned you.

“Yeah! You guys had one of my favorite albums this year. I love the experimental sound you have,” you said earnestly.

“Why, thank you. What brings you here all by yourself tonight?” asked Marz, a polite way of asking ‘Who are you?’

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you say, dramatically sighing. The boys giggled.

“Nah for real, tell us.” Mercury leaned in in anticipation.

“Well, you know Michael Jackson is getting awarded ton-”

“Yo, Mike’s a legend! He deserves that award more than anyone!” Mercury interrupted, causing you to giggle.

“Yes, he is,” you said smiling to yourself.

“Our latest single actually samples Human Nature. He cleared the sample personally. Can you believe it?!” Marz asked, starting to sound like a fanboy. It was adorable.

“I know! I think it might actually be one of my favorites so far. It’s very beautiful,” you said, flashing a sincere smile at the both of them. An announcement over the speakers signaled that it was time for the venue to quiet down and hurry back to their seats.

“It was nice speaking to you,” you whispered to the duo.

“Likewise,” they said at the same time, Mercury blowing you a kiss, and Marz giving you a tap on the shoulder as the lights dimmed.

Michael was able to watch you from his seat. He felt terrible that for your first public event together, he couldn’t even hold you through the whole thing. Although he was grateful for the award, he would’ve given it up to Prince if it meant he could be with his baby the whole night. Especially after what he just saw.

Your favorite hip hop duo, The Nebulas, were flirting with you. He was so far that he couldn’t even hear what you were laughing at, let alone say anything to interrupt, and it made him seethe. Michael never got angry, never jealous, but tonight turned him into a whole different animal.

Every commercial break, they’d talk to you again, exchange knowing glances with each other when you weren’t looking, and it irritated him to no end. They even started getting comfortable touching you. Mercury pathetically reached over his friend’s lap to brush nothing off of your hair, just a desperate attempt to touch you. He was so frustrated, he could barely pay attention whenever someone would come up and congratulate him on the award he was winning tonight. An uncharacteristically green part of him wanted to march down from his table and pick you up from your seat, showing off just exactly who you belonged to.

He was getting more and more tempted to when one of the guys- Pluto, was it?- openly ogled your tits as you leaned down to fix one of the straps on your heels. He nudged his little friend and raised his eyebrows suggestively. When you fully sat up, the Pluto guy whispered something into your ear, and sneakily grabbed onto your waist when you started laughing hysterically. What the hell could be so funny that you didn’t even feel his heavy hand on your body?

It was time for Michael to be presented with Artist of the Decade, and you prepared your throat for the loudest scream you could muster. You tried searching for his face in the crowd, realizing he must’ve been dragged backstage during the last commercial break. Marz whispered, “Oh my God, it’s Michael Jackson time!” into your ears, to which you responded with an excited “I know!”

As soon as they announced his name, you stood up and hollered at the top of your lungs, the rest of the crowd following suit. He looked so unreal. The way the stage lights shone on his perfect features was enough to make your mouth water.

He began thanking his record company for having faith in his visions, his family for supporting him and he gave a beautiful speech dedicated to all the children in the world that inspired him. His humbleness made your heart melt. He ended off the monologue with a special shootout- to you. He called your name and pointed you out in the crowd, blowing you a bashful kiss.

“And to the beautiful lady in my life, to whom I owe everything. Thank you for being my muse and my girl. I can’t wait to celebrate with you tonight,” he added with an attempt at a wink. “I love you so much!”

You screamed out a muffled “I love you, baby!” and the crowd erupted in cheers.

The rest of the ceremony was spent in silence, to your surprise. You’d wondered if you did something to annoy your favorite artists, and got embarrassed by the idea.

Michael made his way to you before the lights even fully dimmed, looking restless. He gripped onto your waist needily.

“Come on, baby. Bill’s outside,” he said, before you could even properly greet or congratulate him.

“Oh, Michael! Congratulations!” you exclaim to him, planting a kiss on his cheek. Your mauve-colored lipstick leaving a stain.

“E-excuse me, sir?” Pluto Marz interrupted. “I’m Marz, and this is Mercury. We met over the phone once with our manager. You gave us permission to sample Human Nature in our most recent single! We just wanted to say thank you so much for that. The song is receiving insane reviews, and it’s all thanks to you!”

“Yeah, it’s a huge honor! You’re our biggest inspiration!” Neptune Mercury added, clumsily.

“I appreciate the compliments! If you don’t mind, me and my lady have an event to attend. Congratulations on the success with your new project!” Michael responded politely and smoothly. Too smoothly. Something was up. He gripped onto your waist even tighter when the boys came up to hug you goodbye. He loudly cleared his throat when one of them hugged you a bit too long for his liking, flashed him a glare, and then quickly composed himself with a sweet smile when he realized what he was doing.

You were driving him crazy. When you walked out of the venue, he stopped in front of your limo and kissed you hungrily, knowing the cameras would capture it all on film. You pulled back, flustered.

“Mikey, there’s so many people and cameras here,” you whispered into his ear with an exasperated giggle.

“Let ‘em watch,” he said lunging back for your lips.

“Come on, Mike! We gon’ be late if you keep that up!” Bill called from the driver’s seat.

The two of you flashed the paps brilliant smiles and ducked into the vehicle, your stomach twisting with the excitement of the evening. You couldn’t believe the beautiful words Michael dedicated to you in his speech, or the fact that you met your favorite artists.

You wouldn’t stop talking about them.

“Oh, and Michael! Marz said that he wanted me in their next video! Can you believe it? He said I reminded him of an old hollywood film actress and said I just had to get in contact with them! He gave me his number and everything!” you squeeled excitedly, flashing him the napkin he’d scribbled his contact info on.

“And you took it?” Michael asked flatly.

“Of course, silly,” you responded lightheartedly, not catching on to his attitude. “How else would I have been able to call them? It’s not like I’d just be able to find them in the phone book,” you say with a giggle at the idea.

“Coulda asked me,” he said with a shrug.

“Hmm, yeah. I guess I hadn’t thought of that,” you said with a nod. “Still, they were hilarious the whole night. Saved me from being bored all by myself.” You shuffled closer to his side, trying to build some tension. He looked scrumptious tonight, and you needed a taste.

“Yeah, seems like they entertained you more than I could’ve,” he added with a concealed roll of his eyes.

“Not even. I missed you so mu-”

“We’re pulling up to the party,” Michael interrupted, shrugging you off of his shoulder. You felt rejected, and you didn’t even know why. Did you smell? Did you embarrass him with all your screaming? You decided to shrug it off and pocket it for later, when you got home.

The entire party overstimulated you. You wanted to go home before you even stepped in, Michael’s dryness with you wavered your confidence. What the hell did you do wrong? It made you uneasy. You decided it was a good idea to down three flutes of champagne, ignoring the celebrities watching you. Seriously, did you have a ‘Kick Me!’ sign on your back?

As you and Michael made your way through the party- you awkwardly clinging onto him while he possessively hugged your hips- you were met with loads of familiar faces. All of them were A-listers you’ve seen on TV or plastered on the covers of magazines. You felt totally out of place.

The alcohol was making you hot, and you excused yourself to the restroom from Michael and the two pretty models he was talking to. He offered to go with you, but you made him stay, feeling like a burden already.

“I’ll be back in a sec, yeah? Just need to freshen up a bit,” you assured him with a wavering smile.

“Okay, we’ll be right here,” Michael responded evenly.

What the hell is on his mind? You wondered to yourself.

You were almost back to Michael, when you bumped into two familiar faces.

“Hey, you!” Mercury said excitedly, giving you a very friendly hug.

“How’s your night goin’?” Marz asked, giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Pretty crazy! I’ve never been to anything this…exciting before!” you respond with slightly forced enthusiasm. As much as you were excited to see some friendly faces, all you wanted to do was get home with your pretty boyfriend and give him a proper congratulations on his award.

“Yeah, these things can get pretty hectic, but I bet it helps to see some familiar faces,” Mercury quipped with a cheesy smile.

“Yeah! Plus, I bet it must be so hard having to fight everyone offa you. You look incredible, by the way,” Marz slurred into your ear over the music.

“Oh, stop it!” you responded bashfully, still shy. You gave him a playful push to his shoulder.

“I actually do all the fighting for her, but thanks for the compliment.”

You turned to your left and saw your boyfriend hovering next to you, not realizing he’d made his way over there through all the chaos.

“Let’s go,” Michael said into your ear, not caring if he came off as rude. He gave a quick wave to the boys and led you out of the party, rushing his way through goodbyes and congratulations.

“Mike, slow down,” you yelled at him, nearly tumbling over your own feet.

“We’re almost to the car,” he responded dryly. He was fuming. How could you just let those two idiots flirt so openly with you? Did they not think you were serious about your own boyfriend? Were you giving them hints?

He opened the limo door for you, and slid in quickly behind.

“Bill, take us home, please. ‘N turn on the radio and slide up partition, will you?” Michael asked.

“No problem. ETA is 11 minutes,” Bill responded.

“Perfect, thank you.” Michael sunk to his knees in the spacious limousine as soon as the partition started rolling up, not caring if Bill saw or heard anymore.

Without a word, he started kissing up your thigh, immediately following them with slight nips of his teeth.

“M-michael, we don’t have time…” you started, already losing yourself in the pleasure. You realized you missed him all night. You didn’t have any alone time together.

“You had time for them all night,” he snapped suddenly. The stern tone in his voice was so surprising, you almost thought he was joking.

“Excuse me?” you questioned him.

“You heard me. I mean, I barely even had ya to myself tonight. You even somehow found your way to them after your little trip to the bathroom. Am I that boring?” he said sharply. You could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Michael, you’re being ridicul-”

“Am I? I saw the way they were lookin’ at you. The way they grabbed at you.” He palmed at your tits. “The way they drooled at these.” He looked up at your face. “You’re mine. You could’ve expressed that a lil’ more tonight,” he said accusatorily.

Who the hell did he think he was talking to?

“Michael, are you jealous?” you asked him, his behavior finally dawning on you. Was he seriously that worried about those two guys? They’re younger than you, totally not your type, and most of all, they’re not Michael. You started giggling.

“This is funny to you?” Michael asked, offended. He leaned back onto the balls of his feet, almost falling backward when Bill made a sharp turn.

“Hilarious, actually.” You started full on laughing. “Mike! Why would you think I’d seriously be entertaining any advances when you’re my boyfriend? I might always find it unbelievable that I’m with you, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to take you for granted, ever. I love you and only you. Plus, they were just being nice!” you say, exhausted.

“Nice? Ha! They were practically ready to ask you for a threesome at the award venue before I came up,” he almost screeched. “But it’s okay. I’ll just show you who you belong to.”

He resumed his oral travel up your thighs, pausing right next to your core. He took his middle finger and started rubbing a harsh, slow circle on your clit through your lacy panties, staring up at you to gauge your reaction. You immediately let out a needy whine, to his satisfaction.

“Exactly,” he said, almost to himself.

His possessiveness was turning you on…a lot. You’d never seen him like this, and an evil part of yourself wanted to make him beg for you. You pushed his hand away and closed your thighs together.

“We’re almost home,” you said flatly. Now it was Michael’s turn to be uneasy. He pouted up at you just like you wanted him to.

As the car eased into the driveway, you felt Michael repeatedly try to touch you, to no avail. You weren’t letting him win tonight. The car drove to a stop, and Bill helped you out first. You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, making sure Michael saw the whole thing.

“Have nice night, Bill,” you said, privately handing him the napkin Marz gave you earlier, and discreetly asking him to get rid of it for you. You had a hurried tone laced into your voice. You could see Michael squirm.

“Y-yeah, you too. Y’all have a good night now.” He gave Michael a quick hug and dove into the driver’s seat, ready to get away from whatever the hell was going on in front of him. You grabbed Michael by the belt loop and rushed inside of the expansive front door.

“What was that?” Michael asked you, jealousy creeping back into his demeanor.

You ignored him and rushed the up the stairs, ignoring the ache in your feet. You grabbed onto his hand and dragged him with you.

Once you made it inside your shared room, you removed your heels with ease, grabbed the clothes you left on the bed this morning, and hurried into the restroom, ignoring Michael’s calls from behind you. You wasted no time in the shower, scrubbing every surface of your body like it was covered in acid. You were buzzing with excitement because no matter how pissed you were at him for being such a brat all night, you were excited to see this new side of Michael.

“Michael, come join me!” you called from inside, hoping he heard you.

He rushed in immediately, and you realized he must’ve been standing right outside the door. You smiled to yourself at the image.

He was already naked. Perfect.

He opened the glass door and stepped in behind you, and you moved towards the door, letting the warm water hit his lanky body.

“Don’t be too long,” you said to your boyfriend, giving him a sloppy kiss on his lips, and walked out.

He watched you dry up and put on his favorite lingerie set as he struggled to pay attention to his task at hand.

You walked out of the restroom hastily, and shut the door behind you.

After a few more minutes, he rinsed off, dried up, and stepped into the bedroom in nothing but his towel around his waist.

He could’ve cum at the sight of you. You were laid on your stomach on the bed, clad in your red, lacy lingerie that hugged every curve of your body just right. Your back was arched slightly, giving him a beautiful view of your heart-shaped ass, and you were sipping water out of a glass, letting it dribble down your neck and onto the swell of your tits. A total vision.

“Hi,” you said seductively, getting up on your knees and setting the glass down on your bedside table.

“H-hi,” Michael said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He could feel his dick throb more and more each second he looked at you.

“You gonna keep starin’ at me, or you gonna come touch me?” you ask him in that smooth tone he loves oh so much.

He walked over to you quickly, leaning over the edge of the bed to kiss you. You took his lips into your mouth and sucked harshly, sighing at the contact. He took that millisecond of your lips parting to stick his tongue inside them, the wet muscle glided against yours with ease. You lunged closer to his body, craving the contact more than your lungs were currently craving air. He slipped his large hands onto your waist, groping aggressively.

“Can I take this off?” he asks against your lips, referring to your bra that left nothing to the imagination.

“Go ‘head, baby. It’s all for you anyway,” you nearly moan into his mouth.

“T-thank you.” He reached behind your back and expertly undid the clasp with one hand. God, you need him.

He walked backwards, keeping his hands on your hips and your lips on his, guiding you to the edge of the bed. He spread your legs and stood between them, lowering his hand to give your ass a needy squeeze, before going to his knees. He looked into your eyes.

“M gonna do you so good that you forget any other artist exists but me.” He takes one of your tits into his mouth, maintaining eye contact, and slurps onto your nipple greedily.

“M-michael!” you exclaimed. He popped off of your breast.

“That’s right. Only me.” He reattached immediately.

Your back arched and your eyes rolled back at his words. This is the sexiest thing he’s ever done, you thought to yourself. He began scratching up your thighs, looking at the faint marks he left behind. You squeezed his body between them, your body overly sensitive to everything he was giving you. He moved to your other nipple, giving it the same amount of attention as your other. Your brain felt fuzzy, and your core dripped for him hungrily.

He detached from your tit again, and kissed down your torso, leaving drool all over. He stopped right at your hip bone and gave it a dark lovebite, leaving you a moaning mess at the painful pleasure.

“N I’m the only one who can mark you like this, right ma?” he asked, looking you deep in the eyes.

“Mhm, yes! Only you, Mikey,” you moaned out.

He gripped onto the hem of your panties, ready to pull them down, and then noticed how they stuck to your pussy.

“And you’re wet like this ‘cause of me?” he asked sincerely.

“All because of you, baby,” you moaned. The neediness in his actions was seeping out and you felt like you could orgasm right then and there.

He kissed you right on your sweet spot and looked back up at you.

“Can I please take these off as well?” he asked hungrily.

“Mhm, and hand ‘em to me when they’re off,” you instructed, looking down at the confused expression on his face. You had a sneaky little plan on the back of your mind.

He handed them to you and you balled them up and sat them next to you for later.

“Continue,” you ordered, growing impatient at the tension.

“M sorry. Yes, ma’am.” He immediately dove into your seeping core and his mouth watered at the taste of you.

“F-fuck, you’re doing so good M-Mike. Never been done like this before,” you praised him, a part of you feeling bad at the insecurity that took over him today. He groaned into your mouth, and teased your entrance with his long middle finger. You pushed your core around it impatiently and moaned heartily at the intrusion, your walls fluttering against it.

Michael removed his mouth from your clit.

“I’m the only one who listens to you like this, right?” he asked with anticipation, your juices dripping down his chin.

“Fuckkkkk yes, Mike. You’re such an angel f’me.”

“Your only angel?” he clarified.

“My o-only angel,” you reassured.

“Okay,” he said with a smile, and resumed devouring your pussy like eating you out was his lifeline.

“F-fuck Michael, faster! I’m gonna c-cum,” you warned.

He sped up immediately, selfishly wanting to get you to your climax so he could drink up every drop of your nectar.

With one particularly lewd curl of his fingers and thirsty slurp of his tongue on your clit, you fell back onto the bed and your body went rigid. You let out a scream you were sure the whole city could hear.

“Michael, F-FUCK! I’M CU-MMING!” you hollered, grinding out your orgasm onto his nose, and gripping onto his hair for support.

He didn’t let up one bit, drinking up every drop of your cum whilst whimpering into your mouth at the grip your fingers had in his hair.

“T-too much, get up,” you instructed him, feeling your clit burn with over sensitivity.

He sat up on his knees and licked his lips greedily, already missing your taste.

You sat up as well, still hungry for his touch.

“C’mere. Wanna kiss you.” You beckoned him toward your naked body. He followed your command like second nature, and your lips connected like magnets. You moaned at the hunger evident in his ministrations, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Was I good?” he asked between lip bites.

“You were perfect. You are perfect,” you amended.

“Thank you,” he replied gratefully.

“I still have yet to congratulate you properly on your award tonight, baby. It was a big deal,” you said, your plan at the forefront of your mind.

“S’ nothin’,” he responded humbly, entirely too focused on your plump lips in between his teeth.

“Michael, you won the biggest award of the decade! I’d say that deserves a proper celebration.” You backed away from his mouth, leaving him dumbfounded.

“Stand up,” you directed him. He did so immediately.

You undid the now loose towel around his waist, freeing his hungry dick from its cage.

He gulped loudly, his adam’s apple bobbing cartoonishly.

You stood up as well.

“Go lay on the pillows at the head of the bed.”

“Y-you don’t have t-”

“Do as I say,” you interrupted his protest.

He bowed his head quickly and did just as you said.

You sneakily grabbed your balled up panties and crawled up his frame on the bed, leaving a trail of your heat in your wake.

“Open your mouth,” you told him, thumb jutting his bottom lip down. He obeyed, intrigued.

You stuffed your panties in and he moaned immediately, his taste buds registering the flavor of your cum immediately.

“Taste that? Nod if you understand,” you demanded.

He nodded.

“I only get wet like that for you. Nobody else.”

You grab one of his big hands, using his fingertips to touch your erect nipples.

“And you feel those?” you asked.

He nodded eagerly.

“They only get that perky for you, Mikey.”

He started to drool, and his erection twitched right against your stomach.

You slid down his body once again, and propped yourself up on your knees. Then, you grabbed his throbbing dick with both your hands, and took the whole thing into your mouth, relaxing your throat so his tip could hit the back. You maintained eye contact with him, and you were glad you did. He groaned thickly against the fabric stuffed into his mouth, his eyes watered with pleasure, and his back launched off the bed.

You took one of your hands and messaged what couldn’t fit into your small mouth, moaning graphically against his length. He was fully sobbing above you. You bobbed your head up and down slowly a few more times, and came off of his dick with a theatrical pop. You wiped his precum off the side of your mouth with your thumb and sucked it clean greedily.

“And nobody,” you began, “absolutely no one else will ever get me on my knees like that. Understand?

He lifted his torso up and rested on his elbows weakly, nodding eagerly and moaning out through the lace in his mouth.

You straddled his waist again, prepared for your big finish.

You grabbed his dick and slid it up and down your slit, covering it up in your already returned arousal. You teased it against your entrance and reached up to Michael’s face, caressing his cheek and wiping away his tears with your thumb.

“I’m yours and you’re mine. All mine. Got it?”

He mumbled out a string of acknowledgments, and then you took him deep inside you, your body shaking at the strain.

His mouth went limp and the panties fell from his lips, slightly, unmuzzling his sounds.

“A-AHHH!” he hollered as you began bouncing, your tits dangling above his face.

His hand flew to your waist and he spat the rest of your underwear out of his mouth.

“C-can I, GOD. Can I please grope you?” he begged.

“Mmmfuck, Mikey. Of course you can,” you obliged. You leaned closer to him, your breasts grazing his chest with every bounce.

He lifted you up and down by your waist, helping the blissful rhythm of your bodies continue their dance of pleasure.

“C-can’t believe you’re mine. T-thank you,” he sniffled, the pleasure in his stomach building up fast.

“Thank you,” you replied. “M already so close Michael. You’re fucking me so good.” You reached down to your clit and rubbed desperately, wanting to come undone around his dick.

His dick jumped at the visual.

“Me too,” he said, embarrassed. His brain was going hazy and the sight before him was adding so much to the pressure held within his abdomen.

You removed your fingers from your clit and stuffed them into his mouth.

He sucked obediently and whimpered at the taste, coming to realize he’d rather taste this over any other flavor on planet earth.

You retracted your hand and leaned down to his ear.

“I’m gonna make a mess all over your lap baby. Y-you ready?”

“Yesss, please! Please c-cum on me!”

He gathered all the strength he had and slammed you onto his dick even harder, overly excited for your release.

Then, your eyes rolled back, and your walls constricted around him aggressively, triggering his own orgasm in time with yours. You both let out the most pornagraphic moans known to mankind, holding onto each other’s bodies for grounding.

“F-It’s…S-So….!” he screamed out incoherently, brain not capable of forming a proper thought.

All you could do was whine out his name over and over until your body went limp on top of him.

You laid connected for a bit, still clawing at each other and catching your breath, trying to let your brains readjust to reality.

You lifted your face off of the crook of his neck, wiping the drool leaking from the corner of your mouth.

“And nobody could ever fuck me like that,” you said to Michael with a tired smile, wiping his hair off of his sweaty forehead.

“N-not even those-” he began.

“ESPECIALLY not them,” you interrupted. “I’m completely and truly devoted to you and only you. You own me Michael. Mind, body, and soul. Congratulations, baby. My superstar.”

jimin used to think of you as background noise.

a small voice echoing through the house when he came over, trailing behind your older brother, jaehyun like a shadow that talked too much and asked too many questions. you were always there—sitting cross-legged on the floor while they played video games, peeking into the kitchen when they ordered food, lingering just close enough to be included without ever actually being invited.

“why do you always lose, chim?” you asked him once, somewhere around the age of ten, tilting your head with that blunt curiosity only kids could get away with and the nickname you had been calling him since before you could pronounce words correctly.

he flicked your forehead, not even looking up from the screen. “why do you always talk?”

you gasped like he wounded you, dramatically throwing yourself back onto the carpet. he and your brother laughed.

back then, you were just… there.

a kid with scraped knees and messy hair, who stole fries off his plate and never said thank you. who insisted on sitting too close, who followed them around even when they told you to go away, who somehow always ended up exactly where they were.

and for reasons he never questioned, he always let you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

by the time you were teenagers, things shifted—but not in the way people usually noticed.

you stopped following them as much.

you only went to high school at the same time for one year—he was a senior and you were a freshman. you had brief encounters in the hallways, brief hellos and shared snacks, but nothing more. you were just settling in while he was gathering his final credits for graduation and making his way into adulthood.

he noticed it in passing, the way you notice the seasons changing without really thinking about it.

in your later years of high school, you started staying in your room when he came over. you would come down to say hi briefly before returning upstairs; music playing faintly through the walls instead of your voice filling the space. when you did appear, it was quieter now—less interrupting, more observing. less chaos, more… awareness.

you grew up. that was all.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

except it wasn't all. he just didn't realize it yet.

the first time something felt off, it was stupid. small. the kind of moment that shouldn’t matter.

you had just turned nineteen; fresh out of high school and falling into your first semester of college.

there was a party—your brother insisted on throwing something at the house while your parents were out, because of course he did. people everywhere, music too loud, drinks passed around like it was nothing.

jimin almost didn't come. but he did, like he always did. because why would he miss his best friend's little sister's birthday party?

he hadn't seen you since your high school graduation a few months ago—summers packed with busy schedules that just happened to be the exact opposite.

and during that summer, you had grown into your features—skin glowing, boobs plump, and ass round. the summer consisted of mastering the perfect blowout and makeup routine, skin kissed by the sun and your wardrobe upgrading after picking up a job for the summer.

for a while, the party was normal. jimin stuck near jaehyun, talking to the same people, ignoring the same chaos. until—

"jimin!"

he turned at the sound of your voice, already halfway into a response before he stopped. really stopped.

it took a second for his brain to catch up to what he was looking at.

you were a few feet away before you engulfed him into a warm hug, his arms instinctively wrapping around you. the scent of your perfume and shampoo filled his head, but that wasn't all. once you pulled away, that's when he saw it all.

the soft glow of the party lights caught on you, tracing every line of the little short dress you wore like it had been made for you, hugging your figure and riding up your carved legs that were on display.

your hair bounced with every move, falling perfectly into place and around your boobs, cleavage being highlighted in the colorful lights of the party. your makeup was flawless without trying too hard—everything about you effortless and impossible to ignore in a room full of people.

but it was more than that. it was the way you looked at him. not like a kid trying to be included. not like his best friend’s little sister.

just… like a girl. no—like a woman. and somehow, that changed everything.

“you okay?” you asked, brows pulling together slightly when he didn’t respond.

he blinked, a little too slow. “yeah,” he said, voice rougher than he meant it to be. “yeah, i’m good..."

"oh- happy birthday!" he sputtered, hands scrambling to hand you his gift. a box wrapped delicately in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other.

you smiled widely before pulling him into another, tight hug, boobs pressing against his chest. "aw thank you, chimmy! you're too sweet." the same, big smile you always had.

but it didn’t feel the same. not even close. something settled in his chest then. quiet. heavy. unwelcome.

the kind of realization that doesn’t announce itself loudly—but once it’s there, it doesn’t leave.

before he could respond, someone had called your name.

"i’ll be back!" you giggled, giving his shoulder a squeeze before turning around.

that little dress of yours had squeezed around your newly grown ass like it was made around it. your hips swayed effortlessly as you skipped over to your friends. he looked away in embarrassment after staring too long to be deemed appropriate.

he’d like to say that was the moment he shut it down. that he drew a line, put distance between you, remembered exactly who you were and why none of this could ever happen.

he didn’t. instead, he stayed.

watched you laugh with someone else across the room. noticed the way people looked at you now. how guys looked at you. the way you moved through the space like you belonged there, like you weren't the kid trailing behind them anymore.

and for the first time—something sharp, unfamiliar, and dangerously close to jealousy twisted in jimin's chest.

he didn’t like it. didn’t understand it.

but he felt it. and worse... he didn’t want it to go away.

but later that night, with the music loud, the drinks hitting just right, and jaehyun off somewhere with a girl, you and jimin were on the dance floor, moving and laughing together like you forgot anyone else existed.

it wasn't long before you were pressed up against him, jimin’s gifted bottle of patrón taking over your mind as you shamelessly grinded against him.

the liquor was also taking over him as he let himself enjoy it, his hand steady at your hips, breath catching while your ass grazed his cock that was strained so tightly against his pants.

just as it started to blur into something more, he leaned in, murmured something low in your ear, and smoothly pulled you away, twirling you around guiding you back into something safer before either of you crossed a line you wouldn’t be able to back from.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

jimin learned how to live with it. at least, that’s what he told himself.

three years later, it didn’t feel like a problem anymore—it felt like something permanent. something carved into him so deeply he stopped trying to dig it out.

he adjusted, that’s all.

you were twenty-two now, and he couldn't ignore the way you'd fully grown into yourself—how your features had sharpened, softened in all the right places. how your body carried a confidence it never used to. even your laugh was louder, brighter, your personality more alive than ever, filling every room you stepped into.

he kept his distance where it mattered. never touched you longer than he should. never said anything that couldn’t be brushed off. never gave your brother a reason to look twice.

but that didn’t mean he wasn’t always there—watching you when you laughed loudly at someone else's joke, eyes lingering just a second too long when you weren't looking.

at parties, he’d find his way closer without thinking, standing just behind you, like gravity kept pulling him in. and when it got too crowded, too loud, he’d casually pat his thigh and offer you a seat like it meant nothing—like it was just easier that way. you always accepted.

on the outside, nothing changed. on the inside—everything did.

he knew things he shouldn’t. not because you told him, not always. but because he paid attention.

he knew you hated mornings but still set three alarms you never woke up to. knew you only drank coffee if it was drowned in cream and sugar. knew the exact tone your voice took when you were pretending to be okay—and the quieter one when you weren't.

he knew when you had a bad day before you even said a word. and he always noticed when someone else didn’t.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

the music was too loud in the club.

bass heavy, vibrating through the floor and up his spine, drowning out most conversation and turning everything into flashes—lights, bodies, movement. the kind of place where people lost track of time, of drinks, of each other.

but jimin didn’t. he knew exactly where you were.

across the dance floor, half-surrounded by your friends, laughing at something someone said. your head tipped back slightly, hair falling away from your shoulders, completely unaware of the way people looked at you.

or maybe you were aware. and maybe you just didn’t care.

a few minutes later, you drifted closer to the bar, separating from your friends just enough. that was all it took for him to move without thinking.

“water please,” he said to the bartender before you even noticed him, sliding the glass across to you as you turned.

you blinked in surprise. “oh-! thanks, chim.”

“you’ve been dancing for like an hour,” he said, like it was obvious. “drink it.”

there was something about the way he said it—not quite a command, not quite a suggestion—that made you smile. “yes, sir,” you teased, taking a sip.

his eyes flickered slightly at that. “don’t start,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

you laughed softly, leaning your elbow against the bar. “you’ve been watching me all night, haven’t you?”

the question was light, your tone playful, tipsy, and teasing. but it landed heavier than you meant it to.

he didn’t answer right away. just looked at you—really looked at you—in a way that made something shift in your expression.

“someone has to,” he said finally.

“i can take care of myself chim~”

“i know,” he said. but his tone didn’t change. "doesn’t mean i’m not going to make sure you’re okay.”

for a second, neither of you spoke, the noise of the club filled the space between you, but it felt distant. muted.

you held his gaze a little longer than usual, something unreadable flickering behind your eyes.

“come outside with me,” you said suddenly.

it wasn’t really a question. your fingers wrapped around his hand, tugging him through the crowd as he obliged, following like your own personal bodyguard.

the air outside was cooler. quieter. the music dulled to a low thrum behind the walls, replaced by the hum of distant traffic and muffled laughter from people filtering in and out.

you leaned back against the brick wall, exhaling. "needed this,” you murmured.

he stepped out a second later, the door swinging shut behind him as his eyes immediately found you. of course they did.

“you okay?” he asked, like it was automatic.

you glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “you ask me that a lot.”

“yeah,” he said simply. no apology. no hesitation. just the truth.

you studied him for a moment, like you were trying to figure something out through effect of your drinks. “you don’t ask anyone else that,” you said.

his hands slipped into his pockets, shoulders relaxing just slightly—but his gaze didn’t leave you. “you’re not anyone else.”

the words came out low, steady, and too honest. something shifted again—stronger this time.

you looked away first, shaking your head lightly like you were brushing it off. “you’re intense tonight.”

a quiet huff of amusement left him. “tonight?”

you smiled at that, but it faded quicker than it should’ve. there was a pause. it stretched long enough to feel different.

he took a step closer. not all the way, but just enough. close enough that if either of you moved a bit more, it would mean something.

“you should slow down on the drinks,” he said, voice softer now. “you don’t need it.”

your breath hitched—barely there, but he caught it. “maybe i just want to have fun,” you said.

“you are having fun,” he replied. “don’t need to overdo it to prove it.”

you looked up at him then, something almost challenging in your eyes. “and you get to decide that?”

his jaw flexed. there it was; that edge. “i get to look out for you,” he said. “yeah.”

the air between you tightened. it wasn't an argument, but it wasn't quite something else either. it was closer to both.

your gaze dropped briefly—to his mouth, then back up again so fast it almost didn’t happen. almost.

but he saw it, and for a split second—he forgot himself. his hand lifted, like he was going to reach for you. like he’d done a thousand times before without thinking.

but this time, it felt different. this time, it would mean something. he stopped. just short enough that the restraint was visible. tense and heavy.

your eyes flickered to his hand, then back to his face, something unspoken passing between you.

a question. a warning, but it was coated with possibility. the door behind you swung open suddenly, voices spilling out into the night—and just like that, it broke.

he dropped his hand, stepping back. the moment snapped like it had never been there at all.

“come on,” he said, voice back to normal, controlled again. “your friends are probably looking for you.”

you nodded, but you didn’t move right away. just looked at him for one second longer than necessary. like you felt it too. then you turned, heading back inside.

jimin stayed where he was for a moment, running a hand over the back of his neck, exhaling slowly as he stared at the ground.

because that—that wasn’t nothing. and he knew it.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

jimin sat in you and jaehyun’s shared living room as you both awaited his arrival for a night out with friends. it shouldn't have meant anything. it usually didn't.

“you want anything?” you called from the kitchen, voice carrying easily through the apartment.

he leaned back against the couch, one arm draped along the back, eyes flicking toward the sound of you moving around. “water’s fine.”

“wow,” you said, appearing a second later with a glass in hand. “you’re so high maintenance.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, taking it from you. “i try.”

you didn’t move away right after. just hovered there for a second, like you hadn’t decided what you were doing next. then you dropped down onto the couch beside him—close, but not unusual. never unusual.

that was the problem. everything with you felt normal; even when it wasn’t.

“you’ve been busy, huh?” he asked after a moment, tone casual, eyes fixed on the tv even though he wasn’t really watching it.

“mm,” you hummed, tucking one leg under yourself. “a little.”

he nodded slowly, taking a sip of his water. “haven’t seen you much.”

“yeah, sorry,” you said easily. “i’ve just been… doing stuff.”

something about the way you said it—vague, almost distracted—made his gaze shift to you. “doing... stuff?” he repeated.

you smiled a little at that, like you knew how it sounded. “okay, fine,” you said, exhaling softly. “i was going to tell you anyway.”

there was no buildup. no hesitation. you said it like it didn't matter. "i've been seeing someone."

it shouldn’t have hit like that. because it wasn’t even unexpected. it was always going to happen eventually.

but still—something in jimin's chest tightened, sharp and immediate, like his body reacted before his mind could catch up.

he didn’t move. didn’t let it show. just nodded once, slow, controlled. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you said, leaning back into the couch like it was nothing. “it’s not, like, serious or anything.”

not serious.

that made it worse. “no?” he asked, voice even.

“not really,” you shrugged. “i mean, i don’t know. he’s… nice, i guess.”

nice.

his jaw flexed slightly. "that sounds convincing.”

you laughed softly, nudging his arm with yours. “shut up. i’m just saying—i don’t know if he’s, like, the one or anything. i just…” you trailed off, thinking for a second. “i just want to see, you know?”

see.

like it was an experiment. like it didn’t matter. like you didn’t matter.

something dark flickered in his chest. he set the glass down a little harder than he meant to, the quiet clink against the table sharper than the conversation deserved. “and he’s good to you?” he asked.

there was a beat. a small one. you hesitated—just barely. “yeah,” you said. “i mean… he’s fine.”

he let out a slow breath through his nose, gaze dropping for a second before lifting back to you. “fine?” he repeated.

you shrugged again, a little sheepish this time. “i don’t know. he’s just not really… i don’t know.”

he waited. you glanced at him, like you were deciding how much to say. “he doesn’t really do much,” you admitted. “like, we hang out, but he’s not super… i don’t know, thoughtful? i guess.”

something in him snapped tighter. “you guess,” he echoed, quieter now.

you didn’t notice. or maybe you did, and chose not to look too closely. "i mean, it’s whatever,” you said quickly. “it’s not a big deal.”

his fingers curled slightly against his knee. “right,” he said.

because what else was he supposed to say?

don’t see him. you deserve better.

you deserve—me.

the word sat there, heavy and dangerous, pressing against the back of his teeth. he swallowed it down hard.

“you don’t seem very excited,” he said instead, tone carefully neutral.

you glanced at him, tilting your head. “should i be?”

“if you like him.”

you made a face—small, almost unintentional. “i do. i just… i don’t know. it’s not like that.”

not like that.

his gaze locked onto you. “and you’re okay with that?”

you frowned slightly. “what do you mean?”

“you’re just going to settle for ‘not like that’?” he asked, voice lower now, something sharper slipping through despite himself.

you blinked, caught off guard by the edge in his tone. “i’m not settling,” you said. “i’m just… seeing where it goes.”

he let out a quiet, humorless breath, leaning back into the couch. “yeah,” he muttered. “that sounds great.”

you nudged him again, lighter this time. “why are you being weird about it, chim~?”

weird.

he almost laughed. instead, he dragged a hand over his face, forcing himself to relax, to soften, to be normal. "i’m not,” he said. “i just—”care. too much.

he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “i just don’t want you wasting your time on someone who’s not worth it.”

your expression softened a little at that. “i’m not wasting my time,” you said gently.

his eyes flicked back to yours. “you don’t even sound like you like him that much.”

you hesitated again. and there it was; that tiny crack. “it’s not that i don’t like him,” you said. “it’s just… different.”

different.

he held your gaze for a long second. then, quieter—“yeah,” he said. “i bet it is.”

the room fell into a strange kind of silence after that. not uncomfortable, not quite. just… heavy. like something had shifted, even if you didn’t fully understand how or why.

you leaned your head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “you’re being intense again, chimmy,” you murmured.

he huffed softly like a humorless laugh, looking away. “only with you.”

the words slipped out before he could stop them. they were too honest. too close.

your head turned slightly, eyes finding his face. and for a second—it felt like you were seeing something you weren't supposed to. something he’d kept buried for years.

his jaw tightened, gaze dropping before you could look too closely. “don’t overthink it,” he added, quieter now. “just… be careful, okay?”

your expression softened again, something warm flickering there as an innocent smile creeped onto your face. “i always am.”

that wasn’t what he was worried about. not even close. but he nodded anyway. because at the end of the day—it wasn’t his place. no matter how much it felt like it should be.

and that was the problem.

because as you sat there beside him, talking about someone else like it didn’t matter—he could already feel it.

the slow, steady unraveling. the way this was going to get worse. the way he was going to hate every second of it. and still, he wasn’t going anywhere.

not when it came to you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

the restaurant was nice.

not too fancy, not too casual—somewhere in the middle, with dim lighting and quiet music playing in the background. the kind of place that was supposed to feel thoughtful.

but it didn’t.

“so yeah,” your boyfriend, seojun said, barely looking up from his phone, “i might go out with the guys later tonight.”

you blinked. “after this?”

“yeah, just for a bit.” he shrugged. “depends.”

depends.

you nodded slowly, fingers tracing the edge of your glass. “oh. okay.” but he didn’t notice the shift in your tone. didn’t notice much, really.

“have you decided what you’re getting?” you asked, trying again.

“not really.” another scroll. another tap. “you can pick for me if you want.”

you let out a small laugh, like it was funny. like it didn’t bother you. “okay,” you said. “i’ll just—yeah.”

your phone buzzed softly against the table, your eyes dropping to it without thinking. it was jimin. your chest eased instantly.

jimin: you alive?

you: barely this is soooo boringg

across from you, seojun finally looked up. “what?”

you shook your head quickly. “nothing.” your phone buzzed again.

jimin: bad date? want me to come get you

you: nooo it’s fine i said yes i have to commit

jimin: you don't have to do anything

your fingers hovered over the screen. that… felt different. your boyfriend reached for his drink, not even glancing at you.

you: it’s not that bad he’s just not you

you stared at the message the second it sent. your breath caught. shit. across the table, seojun laughed at something on his phone, completely unaware.

your screen lit up almost instantly, your stomach flipping.

jimin: what does that mean

you: omg ignore me i didn’t mean it like that

jimin: yeah i know you didn’t

but something about it felt… off. you frowned slightly, glancing up. your boyfriend was already halfway out of the conversation again.

and for the first time that night—you felt it.

“are you even listening?” you asked, slightly harsher now.

“mm?” he said, looking up again. “yeah, what?”

you hesitated. then shook your head. “nothing.” because suddenly, it didn't feel worth repeating.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

it started out normal. that was the problem.

everyone was there at the lounge—your friends, your brother, his friends—the usual mix of loud voices and overlapping conversations, drinks passed around, music playing just low enough that no one had to shout.

jimin stayed where he always did. close enough to you to keep track, far enough that no one questioned it.

you showed up twenty minutes late. with him. of course.

jimin's eyes caught it instantly—the way your boyfriend’s hand rested low on your back, casual, like it belonged there. the way you smiled as you walked in, greeting everyone like nothing had changed.

like everything was normal. his jaw tightened slightly.

“wow, she made it,” jaehyun said beside him, lifting his drink in acknowledgment.

“yeah,” he said. but his eyes didn’t leave you. not even for a second.

throughout the night, he watched. he didn’t mean to—but he always did.

the way you laughed at something your friend said, leaning into the table slightly. the way your boyfriend sat beside you, half-turned away, scrolling through his phone between conversations.

not engaged. not present at all. jimin’s fingers tightened around his glass.

at one point, you got up to grab another drink. he moved before he could think about it, timing it just right so it didn’t look intentional. it always came naturally with you.

“hey,” he said as he stepped up beside you at the bar.

you glanced over, your expression softening instantly. “hi chimmy.”

there it was. that look. the one that always hit a little too hard. the nickname that always pulled at his heart. “you having fun?” he asked.

you hesitated, just for a second. “yeah,” you said.

a lie. it was a quiet one, but he heard it anyway. his gaze flicked past you, landing briefly on your boyfriend across the room—laughing now, finally engaged, but not with you. of course not.

“doesn’t look like it,” he murmured.

your shoulders tensed slightly. “you always say that.”

“because it’s usually true.”

you huffed softly, looking away as you reached for a napkin. “you’re so annoying.”

"and you’re avoiding the question.”

you glanced back at him, something flickering in your eyes—defensive, but not quite. “i’m fine,” you said.

fine. again.

his jaw flexed. “yeah,” he said quietly. “i know.”

“babe, you coming?” the words cut through the space between you. sharp. immediate.

your entire body went still. seojun was looking at you now, finally. one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair. waiting. expecting. like you would just fall back into place.

you glanced between you and jimin. then back at your boyfriend. something unspoken passed through your expression—something almost apologetic. "i'll be back," you said quietly.

he didn't respond. didn't trust himself. just nodded once, stepping aside to let you pass.

but his eyes followed you the entire way back. watched as you sat down. watched as your boyfriend barely looked at you before going back to whatever he was saying.

watched as you smiled anyway. like it was enough.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

it wasn’t one big fight. that would’ve been easier. it was smaller than that. worse, somehow.

“you’re overreacting.”

“i’m not—”

“you always do this.”

the words blurred together after a while. same argument, different night. same tone, same outcome. seojun pulling away, you trying to explain something you couldn’t quite put into words anymore.

“i just wanted you to show up,” you said, quieter now. “that’s it.”

“i told you something came up," he snapped.

“you always have something come up.”

he sighed like you were exhausting him. “why are you making this such a big deal?”

that was the moment something in you went still. because it was a big deal. at least, it felt like one. but the way he said it made you question it. made her question yourself.

“i’m not,” you said finally. but your voice didn’t sound convincing. not even to you.

you left his place ten minutes later. no real resolution. no apology. no anything. just a quiet, “i’ll text you,” and the door closing behind you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

your phone buzzed halfway down the street.

jimin: you home?

your chest tightened. of course. of course it was him. you stared at the message for a second longer than you should’ve.

you: no can i come over?

his response was immediate.

jimin: yeah door’s open

no questions. no hesitation.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

jimin was sitting on the couch when you walked in. like he’d been waiting.

your eyes flicked to him, and for a second—just a second—you felt something shift in your chest. something familiar. something steady. something easy. “hey,” you said softly, closing the door behind you.

his gaze moved over yours quickly, taking everything in—the tension in your shoulders, the way your expression didn’t quite settle, the exhaustion you didn’t try to hide this time.

“what happened?” he asked. no small talk or pretending. just that, direct and straightforward.

your throat tightened slightly. “nothing,” you said automatically.

his jaw flexed. “don’t do that.” the words were quiet. but firm.

you exhaled, dropping your bag by the door before walking further into the apartment. “it’s just… the same stuff,” you admitted. “we argued. again.”

he leaned back slightly, eyes still on you. “about?”

you let out a small, humorless laugh. “everything. nothing. i don’t even know anymore.”

silence stretched for a second. “he didn’t show up again, did he?”

your gaze snapped to his. “how do you—”

“you always come here when he doesn’t,” he said simply.

that hit harder than it should’ve. because it was true.

you swallowed, looking away. “it’s not like that.”

“then what’s it like?”

your chest tightened. “i don’t know,” you said, quieter now. “i just… needed to get out.”

his eyes didn’t leave you. “yeah,” he murmured. “i know.”

you moved to sit on the couch beside him. closer than usual. closer than you should’ve. but neither of you said anything about it. you never did.

for a while, it was quiet. comfortable. nothing but the low hum of his tv in the background, the colorful glow hitting you in all the right places. the kind of silence that didn’t ask anything from you.

didn’t make you feel like you had to explain yourself. and that—that was the problem. because you didn’t have that anywhere else.

“he says i expect too much,” you said suddenly.

his head turned slightly. “you don’t.”

“you didn’t even let me finish.”

“don’t need to.”

your lips pressed together, something emotional flickering behind your eyes. “you’re biased, chim.”

“yeah,” he said without hesitation. "because i know you.”

your breath caught, the words settling somewhere deep. too deep.

“he’s not… bad,” you said, like you were trying to convince both of you. “he just—he doesn’t think about things the way i do.”

“he doesn’t think about you,” he corrected.

your chest tightened again. “that’s not fair.”

“no,” he said quietly. “what’s not fair is you acting like that’s enough.”

the air shifted. heavy. your gaze dropped to your hands. “i’m not saying it is.”

“then why are you still with him?”

the question hung there. simple, yet impossible. you didn't answer. because you didn't have one.

his hand moved before he could stop it, resting lightly against your wrist. not pulling or forcing. just… there. like it grounded both of you.

your breath caught softly at the contact. neither of you moved.

“you don’t have to stay somewhere you’re not getting what you need,” he said, voice lower now. “you know that, right?”

your eyes lifted slowly to his. and for the first time—you didn’t pull away. didn't brush it off or make you joke like you normally would.

“what if i don’t know what i need?” you whispered.

that almost broke him. because he did. he knew exactly what you needed. but he couldn’t say that.

his thumb shifted slightly against your wrist. barely there. but enough. “you do,” he said quietly. “you’re just ignoring it.”

your heart started beating a little faster. “am i?” you asked.

his gaze dropped—just for a second. to your lips. then back up. you noticed. “you come here every time something goes wrong,” he said, softer now. “you tell me everything. you let me—”

he stopped himself. but it was too late.

“let you what?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

his jaw tightened. because the answer wasn’t safe. wasn’t something he could take back once it was out.

but you were looking at him like that. too close. too open. too vulnerable.

“take care of you,” he said finally. the words landed heavy between you, making your breath hitch. “and you think he does that?” he added lowly.

you didn’t answer. because you didn’t need to. silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty. it was full of everything you both hadn’t said, everything you weren’t supposed to feel.

"i... i shouldn't be here," you whispered. it wasn't about his place. he knew that.

his gaze didn't waver. "then why are you?"

your lips parted. but once again, no answer left them.

his hand tightened slightly around your wrist—not enough to hurt, just but enough to stop you from pulling away if you tried. something sick and twisted knotted in your stomach, heat shamefully pooling in between your legs.

you didn't pull away.

"this isn't fair," you said softly.

"no," he agreed. "it's not." but he didn't let go of you, low eyes boring into yours.

“you deserve better,” he said finally. "you let him treat you like you're optional—and you're not. you never will be."

but this time—it didn’t sound like advice. it sounded like a promise. the way he said it, the way he looked at you made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with guilt.

your eyes were locked onto each others, everything else fading. the room, the noise, even the weight of what you were doing.

for a split second, you imagined it. what it would be like if this wasn’t wrong. if you didn’t have to pull away. if you could just stay here, with him, without guilt or hesitation. it was a glimpse of something softer, steadier… something that felt dangerously close to real.

suddenly, your phone began to vibrate against your pocket. you flinched this time, like it snapped you out of something you hadn’t meant to fall into.

he didn’t move. didn’t step back. but his hand stilled against your wrist as you glanced down at the screen, close to fully letting go.

your brother. of course.

you swallowed, pulling back just enough to answer it as the warmth of his hand quickly left you. "hey—"

"where are you?" jaehyun’s voice came through rough, impatient.

"i'm just—out," you said quickly, already knowing how weak it sounded.

"with seojun again?"

your eyes flicked to jimin. he was watching you. too closely. "yeah," you lied, swallowing too hard.

"don't stay there tonight," your brother said. "i can't feed your cat all the fuckin' time." the line ended.

“i should go,” you said, though you didn’t move right away.

he nodded once. but his eyes didn’t leave you. they didn’t soften or let you off easy. then finally, you got up, stepping back. slow and reluctant, like you were pulling yourself from something you hadn't quite processed yet.

"i'll see you..." you said.

his jaw tightened ever so slightly. "yeah," he said.

you turned toward the door, pausing for a second. like you everything in you wanted to look back him. but you didn't.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

you tried. that was the worst part. you actually tried.

“are you even listening to me?” seojun's voice pulled you back, sharp with irritation.

you blinked, realizing you'd been staring at nothing for the past few seconds. “yeah—sorry. what did you say?”

he exhaled, annoyed, leaning back in his chair. “i said i might not be free this weekend.” of course.

you nodded slowly. “okay.”

no argument this time or pushing. no asking him to try. that should’ve made things better, but it didn’t.

you were sitting too far apart. that was the first thing you noticed. not physically—you were on the same couch—but it felt like there was space between you. too much of it.

like something had already pulled away.

“you’ve been quiet,” he said after a moment, glancing at her.

“just tired,” you replied.

that part wasn’t a lie. just not the whole truth. because every time the room went quiet—your mind didn’t stay there.

it drifted. back to jimin.

the way he looked at you three nights ago. the way he said you let me take care of you. the way his hand felt against you. the way he almost—

your breath caught slightly, shifting where you sat.

“come here,” your boyfriend said suddenly, reaching for you.

you hesitated. just for a second. then you moved closer, letting him pull you in. it felt wrong. uncomfortable and just...empty. like you were there physically—but nothing else followed.

seojun's hand rested on your waist casually. you used to like it, but now, it didn't feel like anything. “you good?” he asked.

you nodded quickly. “yeah.” but your voice didn’t match.

because all you could think about was how different it felt. how when he touched you, even barely—it wasn’t like this.

your boyfriend said something else, but you didn’t hear it. didn’t even try to. "you're doing it again," he muttered.

“doing what?”

“checking out.”

your chest tightened slightly. “i’m not—”

“you are,” he cut in. “you’ve been weird all night.”

weird. you almost laughed. because for the first time—you felt like you were exactly where you weren't supposed to be.

"i think i'm just tired," you said, softer now.

he pulled away slightly, clearly annoyed now. “then why’d you even come over?” that question landed harder than it should’ve. because you didn’t have a good answer. not anymore.

you stood up before you could overthink it. “i should go.”

he frowned. “seriously?”

“yeah,” you said, grabbing your bag. “i just—yeah.”

he didn’t stop you. didn’t ask you to stay. he didn’t even try. and for some reason, that hurt less than it should’ve. because as you walked out—there was only one thing on your mind.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

you didn't text first. you just showed up, two knocks at jimin's door before it opened immediately. like he knew it was you. like he'd been waiting.

for a second, neither of you spoke. just stood there, looking at each other. with everything from the last time—the tension, the way it ended—came rushing back all at once.

“you went back to him.” it wasn’t a question.

your chest tightened slightly. “yeah.”

his jaw flexed. “and?"

you shook your head slowly. “it felt wrong.” the words came out quieter than you expected. but they landed exactly where they needed to.

something in his expression shifted. not surprise. something darker. something that had been waiting.

“yeah,” he said. like he already knew. silence stretched, but it wasn't empty. it was full to the brim with weight and tension.

“i couldn’t stop thinking about—” you started, then cut yourself off.

his eyes locked onto yours. “say it.”

your breath caught. “i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

there it was. the truth. out loud and no taking it back. he moved first, faster this time. like all the hesitation in him was hanging onto a thread.

there was barely any space left between you. his hand found your waist, pulling you closer like he'd been holding back from that from doing that exactly for too long.

your breath caught sharply, hands instinctively finding his shirt, gripping lightly. "jimin..." you protested ever so weakly.

“tell me to stop,” he said again—but this time it didn’t sound like he would. not really.

and you didn't. you didn't even try. and that was all jimin needed.

before you could think, he leaned in—closing all the space left and kissed you.

it wasn't soft or careful like most first kisses. it was everything he hadn’t let himself do for years—frustration, restraint, want—all crashing into one moment, capturing your lips roughly between his.

your breath hitched against him, but you didn’t pull away. you leaned into it more than you would admit. and you kissed him back, lips moving against his in unison like you'd been waiting too.

his grip tightened slightly, holding you there like he wasn’t about to let you disappear again, like he wasn’t about to let you walk out and go back to something that wasn’t him. his other hand found your jaw, tilting it upward to deepen the kiss like he'd done that a hundred times.

and for the first time—you didn’t feel unsure. didn’t feel distant or felt like something was missing.

because whatever this was, felt like everything. and neither of you stopped, lips molding together in sync.

after what felt like an eternity, the kiss finally broke, but the space between you didn't.

your breath was uneven, chest rising and falling like you'd forgotten how to steady it. his hand was still on your waist, fingers curled slightly like he hadn’t decided whether to let go of you yet.

he didn’t.

your lips parted slightly, like you were about to say something—but nothing came out. because what were you supposed to say?

this shouldn’t have happened? i didn’t mean to? this was a mistake? because none of that felt true.

his forehead hovered just barely near yours, close enough that you could still feel him—still feel the weight of what just happened lingering between you.

“you should go.” the words came out low. rough. but his hand didn’t move, not matching the words at all.

your chest tightened. "do you want me to?" but you didn't mean to ask that. it just slipped out.

his jaw flexed. because the answer wasn’t safe. it wasn’t something he should say. but he’d already crossed the line. you both had.

"no," he said quietly, and you didn't miss the way his hand twitched against you, like his restraint was faltering.

your breath caught again. and for a second, it looked like you might close the distance again.

like you might forget everything else and just—

but instead, you stepped back. barely. but enough that his warmth left you. enough to feel it and remind the both of you what was happening.

"this is wrong," you whispered. but there was no conviction behind it. no urgency. just… acknowledgment.

"yeah," he said. but he didn't look the least bit concerned.

silence stretched, longer this time. he finally let his hand drop from your waist. slow, reluctant, like it cost him something. and you felt it immediately. the absence. it shouldn't have, but it hit you like a truck.

“i shouldn’t have come here,” you murmured. but even even as you said it—you didn’t sound like you meant it.

“you were going to,” he said. not a question, just undeniable truth.

your eyes flicked back to his, because he was right. "you didn't stop me," you said.

his gaze didn’t waver. “you didn’t want me to.”

your breath caught, because that was true too. "this is going to get messy." you meant it as a warning, but realization was just catching up to you.

'it already is."

you let out a quiet breath, shaking your head slightly like you were trying to clear it—but it didn’t work. nothing about this felt clear.

it felt heavy. complicated. wrong. but still— completely, disgustingly right. because when you looked at him, there was nothing distant about it. nothing empty or uncertain like you were used to.

“i’m not going to pretend it didn’t mean anything," he said. his voice was low and controlled, but there was something else in it now. something more raw.

your chest tightened. because neither were you. "it shouldn't have meant anything," you said. but even you didn't believe your own words.

his eyes dropped to your lips again, slower this time. more deliberate. "but it did."

your heart was racing even faster now as thick silence filled the room. because this wasn't tension anymore. it wasn't another almost moment with him like you always had. this was something real. something you both couldn't undo.

"i need to go," you said finally. and this time, you meant it.

jimin nodded once. he didn't stop you or try to pull you back in. but his eyes stayed on you the entire time, watching. holding. not letting you off easy. and just as you reached the door—

“don’t go back to him like this didn’t happen.”

the words stopped you cold. your hand froze on the handle, chest tightening. because you knew exactly what he meant.

slowly, you turned around, meeting his intense gaze. "i don't think i can," you squeaked, quietly honest. but too, terrifyingly real.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

you didn’t sleep. every time you closed your eyes—you felt it again.

his hand on your waist. his voice, low, tell me to stop. the way he didn’t. the way you didn’t. his plush lips moving against yours like he starved for that moment.

your phone buzzed. you reached for it immediately.

jimin: you awake

your heart skipped. it was 3 am, hours after you left his place.

you: yeah

a second or two passed.

jimin: you left too fast

you: i had to

jimin: didn't feel like you wanted to

your chest tightened, heart beat quickening too fast for the early morning. because he was absolutely right.

you: i didn't

another pause as you stared intensely at your glowing screen in the darkness of your room.

jimin: don't go back to him

your stomach flipped.

you: i have to talk to him

jimin: that’s not what i said

your breath caught. his tone, even through a screen—felt the same. certain and possessive in a way that made your pulse pick up.

jimin: you're not his anymore

your heart practically jumped out of your chest.

you: you can’t say that

jimin: i just did. come over after

you: i don’t know if i should

the response came instantly this time.

jimin: you will

your breath caught once more, chills tingling your body. because you already knew he was right.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

seojun knew something was off the moment you walked into his place. "you okay?" he asked, glancing up from his phone.

you nodded too fast. "yeah," you lied. but this time you hardly tried to make it sound convincing.

you stayed standing, hovering instead of sitting and getting comfortable. you didn't pretend like you normally would. "i think we should talk.”

that got his attention. he frowned slightly, setting his phone down. “about what?”

your chest tightened. but you didn’t hesitate this time. because you couldn’t. not anymore. "this isn't working."

the word landed between you two, flat and final.

he blinked. "what?"

you swallowed. “us. this—whatever this is. it’s not working.”

a pause. then a scoff. “are you serious right now?”

“yes.”

he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “this is because of last night, isn’t it? you’re still mad?”

“no,” your voice was quieter now, but stronger. “it’s not just last night.”

“then what?” he pressed. "because this feels like it came out of nowhere.” and god, that infuriated you. because it didn’t. not at all.

"you don't show up for me," you started, every last bit of hesitation in you crumbling.

“you cancel. you don’t listen. you barely even—” you stopped, shaking your head. “i feel like i’m not even there half the time.”

his eyebrows pulled together. "that's not true."

"it is."

"you're exaggerating." there it was again. that same tone, the same dismissal as always.

and finally, you felt it clearly. the difference. "no, i'm not."

he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “so what, you’re just going to end it? just like that?”

suddenly, your phone buzzed in your hand. you didn’t mean to look, but you did anyways.

jimin: you there yet

your breath caught without you even realizing.

"you're not even listening to me," seojun snapped.

your gaze lifted slowly. "i am." but your voice didn't match—weak like he had just pulled you out of some magical trance.

"then why does it feel like you're already checked out?" he asked.

"because i think i am," you admitted quietly. the words hurt him in a way that you noticed.

"wow," he muttered, leaning back. "so that's it? you're just done?"

another buzz from your phone, your fingers tightening around it as you read the message.

jimin: don't let him talk you out of it

your heart started racing as you looked back at your boyfriend. really looked. and it finally felt clear. it finally wasn't confusing or complicated, it was just completely over.

"i'm so done," you said. it was soft, but final.

seojun let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “you’re seriously throwing this away?”

throwing it away. like it was something worth keeping.

you shook your head. "no," you said. "i've been holding onto something that wasn't really there."

he stared at you for a second longer, like he was trying to figure out when he lost you. he didn’t realize he already had.

“fine,” he said finally. “if that’s what you want.” it wasn’t anger. not fully, at least. just a bruised ego.

and just like that, it was over. you turned toward the door, and this time, he didn't stop you. your phone buzzed again as soon as you stepped outside. you didn't even have to look, you already knew.

jimin: it's done isn't it

you: yeah

your breath hitched as soon as the typing bubble appeared.

jimin: come here

and without hesitation or second guessing, you were already on your way.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

the door barely closed behind you before jimin was already there. too close, the heat of his body warming you up from the cold night air. like he’d been waiting for this exact moment for an anticipated amount of time.

"you came," he said. it wasn't a question.

your breath was still uneven from the walk and from everything that had just happened, to him.

“yeah,” you said softly.

“i told you that you would."

your heart was still racing as you set your bag down, but you didn’t move any further into the apartment. didn't create space between you and him.

"it's done," you said, like you needed to say it out loud. like it would make all of this real.

his gaze didn't leave yours. "i know," he said. a small pause. "because you're here."

your breath caught as silence settled between you. but it wasn't at all quiet. instead it was incredibly thick, charged with something that was already building—faster this time. stronger.

"this is… a lot,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “everything just—happened.”

“and you still came here."

that made your gaze avert over to him immediately, taking in his features and the way he looked at you. something in your chest tightened. because you knew what that meant.

"i don't think i was going anywhere else," you said.

that did something to him. you saw it in the way his jaw tightened, the way his shoulders squared slightly like something in him had locked into place. "good," he said quietly.

you let out a small breath in an attempt to steady yourself. "we should probably... slow down."

the words sounded right, responsible, and safe. but jimin didn't agree. didn't argue either. instead, he just watched you for a few seconds too long.

"you don't actually want that," he said.

your brows pulled together slightly. "you don't know that."

"i do," he replied casually. “you don’t actually want that.”

“you say that,” you started, “but this is all really fast and i just—”

your words cut off sharply, because suddenly he moved, closing the space between you in one step. his hand found your wrist once again—it wasn't rough or forceful, but it was enough to stop your pacing and put an end to your thinking.

“stop talking yourself out of it,” he said, voice lower now.

your breath caught, heart pounding so hard it echoed in your head. “i’m not—”

“you are," he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your wrist. grounding, yet claiming.

“you felt it,” he continued. “you know what this is.”

your chest rose and fell faster now. "i don’t know what it is,” you whispered.

“that’s not true," he said lowly in your ear.

he guided you back a step. then another. and another, until the back of your knees hit the couch and you sat without even realizing it.

and he followed, sitting closely next to you. too close. your heart was racing now. it wasn't from fear. it was entirely him. and the threateningly perfect idea of being his that made your heart ache.

"this isn't wrong," he said, quieter now.

you shook your head slightly. “it feels like it should be.”

“it doesn’t.”

“it does.”

“but you’re still here.”

that again. that truth you couldn’t argue with. before you could respond, both his hands snaked their way around your waist, firm and certain. and then suddenly, you were being pulled into his lap.

your breath caught sharply, hands instinctively landing on his broad shoulders to steady yourself. “jimin—”

his name came out softer than you meant it to. less like a warning and much more like something else.

“you keep acting like you don’t want this,” he murmured, his voice right there, close enough to feel. “but you do.”

your pulse was racing. “i didn’t say i don’t—”

“exactly.”

your fingers tightened slightly against his shirt. because being this close—his cologne and warmth making your head spin—feeling him like this, hearing the words he uttered with such confidence and possession,

made it impossible for you to think straight.

“this is going to get complicated,” you muttered, but it sounded weaker now. less certain.

"it already is," he said. he didn't care.

“i really don’t want to mess this up, chim” you admitted, a sad pout forming at your lips, eyes suddenly glossy. but it was something honest. something incredibly real and directly from your heart.

and god, did that make jimin's stomach flip. he couldn't stand to see anything that wasn't a smile on your face. he absolutely hated it. and tears? he couldn't bare to let it happen.

his gaze softened. “you won’t," he said firmly.

“how do you know?” you sniffed.

“because i’m not letting you.” the words landed heavy.

your breath caught again. “but, you can’t just decide that—"

“i already did.”

his hand shifted slightly at your waist, grounding you there, keeping you close to him and nothing but him.

“i’ve wanted you for too long to pretend this isn’t happening,” he said, quieter now. “i’m not going to step back and watch you go to someone else again.”

your heart skipped, your brain going quiet for a second. "jimin..."

"tell me you don't want this," he said. he gave you the chance again. he gave you the chance to run away back to your apartment with your brother, to his best friend, and forget this ever happened.

but you didn't take it.

and for him, that was it. his burning gaze dropped to your lips, slow and intentional. like he needed to take his time, soaking up your presence and every last one of your features in front of him.

your breath hitched as your grip tightened on him slightly. "we said we would slow down," you whispered. but you didn't move.

and then, his lips met yours once again. but this time, you didn't pause. this time, the shock and hesitation didn't exist. just the same intensity, but stronger now, deeper, like everything you two held back before was completely gone for good.

your hands didn't hesitate either. they clung onto him like you had already chosen your present and future with him, snaking up his chest and around his neck, fingers curled lightly into his hair.

he kissed you like no one else had ever kissed you before, with the utmost passion and devotion—like he had spent years dreaming about doing it every day. because he had.

you responded, lips moving against his with desire. no pause to think, no space to breathe—just the same pull as before, stronger now, like something that had been building for years finally had somewhere to go.

his hands stayed firm at your waist, keeping you close against him, like he didn’t trust you to stay if he let go. like he didn’t trust himself enough to just let you.

“you feel that?” he murmured against you, voice low, rough in a way you haven't heard before. “that's not nothing.”

your fingers tightened in his shirt, making him weak in the head. “i know,” you whispered. because you felt it all.

“i tried to stay away from you,” he admitted, quieter now, his forehead pressing lightly against yours for half a second before he pulled you back in. “you make that impossible.”

your heart was racing too fast now. so loudly that it felt as if it was echoing throughout your entire body.

“you keep coming back to me,” he said. “don’t act like you don’t know why.”

you swore you could feel your throat swell up at that. but you didn't answer.

one hand slid slightly down your side, grounding and steady; like he needed to make sure that you were really there. the other found it's way along your jaw, tilting it upwards to match his eye level.

"you're not his anymore."

the words sent something sharp through your chest. and this time it wasn't guilt.

your hands found his face for a second, pulling him back toward you, like you didn’t want the space, didn’t want the thinking, didn’t want anything to interrupt this again.

“i’ve wanted this for too long,” he said against you quietly. but his tone was coated with nothing but pain and desire.

and that did it. whatever restraint left was entirely gone as you kissed him this time. he all but melted against you, his grip tightening on you as he captured your lips hungrily in between his.

you barely pulled apart, the room filled with nothing but light breaths, small, muffled moans, and the sound of your lips moving together.

when you finally separated for the quickest breath, jimin's eyes swirled with pure darkness. "you have no idea what you do to me," he muttered against your lips before engulfing them into his once more.

it wasn't long before he swiped his tongue greedily against your lips, cheekily asking for entrance. you obliged, humming into him as he shamelessly explored your mouth with a smile.

his hands traveled father down your body, past your hips and slowly up and down your your ass, grasping it like he already owned it. you moaned desperately, tilting your head back with a string of saliva pulling from both of your lips, an unbearable heat pooling between your legs.

he saw it as an opportunity to litter your neck with kisses; starting gently at your jaw before going further down your neck—becoming more sloppy, open-mouthed, and claiming. his hands made it further past your ass, fingers tracing needily against your thighs.

“do you know how hard it’s been to stay away from you?” he murmured against your collarbone, now sucking and biting at the skin as you melted beneath him.

you could only moan in response, but that didn't stop him. "he never deserved you," he grumbled, voice low and rough with something close to anger. "i knew that the moment i met him."

before you could respond, his captured you into another kiss, growling against your lips as your fingernails dug into his neck. soon, his slender fingers slid underneath your ass before he stood up, gripping you tightly as you quickly wrapped your legs around him.

your tongues moved together while your hands tangled themselves into his hair. his grip on you was tight, firm, like holding you was his entire life's purpose.

the kiss broke apart as he placed you down on his bed gently, your body quickly being cushioned by plush comforters and pillows. before he joined you on the bed, his eyes burned into your figure—like he had to make sure that this moment was real. that the girl that never left his mind once for years, was really on his bed, in front of him.

he blinked in disbelief before desire rapidly took over his eyes, climbing on top of you and capturing your lips between his hungrily. "are you sure you want this?" jimin asked gently, voice low and quiet against your lips.

"yes," you nodded breathlessly. "i want this, chim."

his heart clenched at the nickname, almost making his head dizzy and his restraint falter. god, he just wanted to ruin you. he wanted to show you how you really deserve to be treated. he wanted to show you that he was the only right man for you. the only man that could spoil you rotten with gifts and attention—the only man that could ever treat you right and fuck you right.

he sucked in a sharp breath, his rough hands finding your chin and tilting it up to meet his consuming gaze. "you have no idea what it did to me... watching you be with someone else." he seethed, making his way to your neck and sucking the skin gently between his lips.

you shivered under his touch but you didn't ignore the way the words made your heart ache. "chim..." you whispered.

"you're mine now," he growled against your skin, littering it with wet, open-mouthed kisses. "no turning back from this. no running back to that fucker who didn't know your worth."

"no," you shook your head, unable to ignore the unbearable heat pooling between your legs. "i only want you, jimin.”

his breath became shaky against you, like the words that had just left your mouth struck something deep in him. he captured your lips between his, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

you tugged at his shirt with greed and he complied immediately, tugging it off with rough hands and throwing it somewhere to be forgotten.

you quickly traced your manicured nails along his curated abs like you'd done it plenty of times before, and jimin shivered under your touch like you had grazed his soul.

it didn't take long before his hands snaked their way around your top, slender fingers dipping into the hem. your hand met his, guiding it upwards until he eventually ripped your top off.

jimin shuddered at the sight of you half-naked beneath him, your doe-eyes peering up at him with desire, waiting for him, yearning for his next move. it almost made him dizzy. “so perfect, baby.”

he littered your cleavage with kisses before circling a tongue around one nipple as you cried out in pleasure. his free hand trailed down your body, finding its way between your thighs and lightly trailing against your clothed clit.

he sucked your nipple between his lips slowly before gently biting at the skin on your boob, leaving small kisses and licks after you whimpered against him.

his lips quickly found their way to your other tit, engulfing it softly into his mouth before you realized his hand was slowly pulling down your shorts and making his way through your panties.

you reacted quickly, his mouth still attached to your breasts as you shoved your shorts further down your legs. jimin pulled back, a pop! sound filling the air as your nipple hardened from the immediate cold.

he assisted you in fully taking your shorts off, discarding them somewhere in the room before fully taking in your figure.

his thick cock only strained harder against his jeans as he took in the sight of you. the sight of you that he had been dreaming of for years, fisting his dick every night to the thought of you and only you. when he hooked up with girls, which was rare—he would only do it to imagine it was you. and now, the moment was finally hitting him.

"fuck," he grunted before enveloping his plush lips with yours slowly, taking them in and swiping his tongue inside your mouth.

his fingers traced your core, still barely protected by your lace thong that you carefully chose before going out tonight. "wore these for me baby?" he murmured against your lips.

you nodded eagerly and he smirked against your lips before hooking your panties to the side and teasingly tracing his fingers down your wet folds. "they're pretty baby," he said. "almost as pretty as you."

you practically keened beneath him, legs quivering with need. he teased you a for half a second longer before inserting one, long finger inside of you. you felt your wetness gush out of you and around his finger as you moaned in pure bliss.

he plunged inside of you, his thumb slowly rubbing your clit as he added another finger.

"taking me so good baby," he murmured against your ear before placing a light kiss at your neck. "need to get you ready for my cock, hm?"

suddenly, the warmth of his body left you as he lowered himself down your thighs, adjusting your leg to sit on top of his shoulder with one hand, the other one still thrusting into you. you quickly responded, lifting your other leg on his shoulder as you whimpered in a mix of need and pleasure.

it wasn't long before his head was dipped between your legs, his lips kissing your folds while his fingers worked inside of you slow, but deep. your thighs were practically twitching against him, core dripping against his lips with anticipation.

you could feel him smile against your pussy in satisfaction as he begins to finally intrude his tongue between your folds. he licked a rudely long stripe up your pussy before he started to fully lap against you, taking in every last bit of your arousal.

"jimin-!" you moaned out, your fingers intertwining with his hair needily.

his lips wrapped around your folds as he plunged his tongue into your hole, exploring your velvety insides greedily as he growled against you. your back arched off of his bed in absolute pleasure, bliss filling your entire body—heat coiling in your stomach as he worked at you like a man starved.

soon enough, your orgasm tore through you, covering jimin in your slick. he lapped at it hungrily, his fingers slowing inside of you and guiding you to release. once you finished, he pulled away, licking your slick off of his fingers.

"such a good girl for me," he grunted before engulfing you into a kiss filled with desire, tasting yourself on his lips. you pulled back, a string of saliva caught between your lips as you looked down at his strained member.

his eyes followed your vision but before he could process it, your hands were fumbling with his belt. when he realized it, it only made him harder. a smile tugged at his lips he helped you take it off, his fingers pulling apart the button and swiftly coming off of the bed.

his member was clung tight against his boxers as his jeans pooled around his ankles, fully revealing his sculpted body to you.

you eyes trailed down him, making your way to the end of the bed on your knees. he stopped completely—his dark, low eyes following your every move as you approached him.

you pushed yourself up on your knees to meet his height, hands sneaking behind his neck, nails lightly digging in his skin as they made their way slightly down his back.

he nearly shivered as you trailed your hands down his built shoulders, shifting down his abs until your fingers found their way around the hem of his boxers. you peered up at him, his burning gaze immediately making you shudder.

you pulled down his boxers and his cock immediately sprung out in front of you—long, thick, and leaking with precum. your mouth nearly watered at the sight, but your mouth became agape.

because seojun was nowhere near as big as this.

"yeah, like what you see, baby?" he said with a smirk, lightly stroking his cock in front of your face. "it's all yours, pretty girl."

"wanna feel it all," you whispered weakly, eyes not leaving his.

"fuck," he groaned, his voice low. "yeah, wanna take me raw baby? wanna feel all of me, hm?"

you nodded desperately and jimin's hands found your shoulders and gently pushed you back onto his bed. you landed between his plush pillows before his figure blocked your view, his eyes scanning you with hunger.

he lowered himself above you, one hand planted beside your head while the other guided his cock to your sopping wet entrance, sliding it up and down your folds teasingly.

"chim-!" you whined out, pout tugging at your lips.

he kissed that pout away all before entering you slowly, your folds engulfing his hot, angry, cock and painfully adjusting around his length. you cried out in a mix of pleasure and ache. it was a kind of stretch you had never experienced before.

"shh, baby," he cooed gently. "it's okay. you're taking me so good."

after a few minutes of stillness, he pushed further inside of you slowly. your walls expanded around him as his tip soon hit the back, bulge deep in your stomach. he began to pick up his pace, almost fully pulling out before plunging back inside of you, thrusting at a steady pace.

you moaned out in pleasure, nothing but you and him and the sound of your pussy squelching from his cock existing in your brain.

"fuck," he moaned loudly. "this pussy was fuckin' made for me."

you moaned in response, clenching tighter around him as his tip started to hit your g-spot relentlessly, his thumb circling your clit. your eyes rolled to the back of you head as you took his every thrust, brain feeling absolutely fucked numb.

jimin felt like his entire body was lit on fire from being inside of you, legs wrapped around his shoulders and in the air as he explored every inch of your insides greedily with his thick, curved member. his pace was nearly impossible, hitting your pussy at an obliterating angle you didn't even know existed.

"chimmy..." you whined. "it's too much."

"no baby," he protested breathlessly against you. "look at you, taking me so fuckin' good 'cause you were made for me. weren't you baby? gonna take my cum tonight."

you simply nodded, whining in response but he wasn't having it. he needed to hear you. his free hand found your ass cheek, gently caressing it before placing a light smack!

"use your words, baby," he growled.

"yes-!" you moaned almost miserably as hot pleasure coiled tightly in your core. "i was made for you, chim- all yours-!"

"fuck," he growled darkly, his thrusts becoming sloppier but harder, fingers focused on your clit. "yeah, you're mine baby. been watching you walking away from me for years. 'm not letting that happen again."

you felt your back arching off the mattress once again, moaning loudly at his words and the way he bruised your walls.

"my pretty girl," he cooed as he felt your insides clench tighter around him. "i don't share you. you understand me?"

"yes- god, jimin- i'm all yours-!" you cried out, fingers digging into his shoulders as his pace quickened, taking you both to your orgasms.

suddenly, the heat that built up in your stomach tore right through you like a riptide, jimin fucking you through both of your releases while spilling his hot seed inside of you, plastering your walls with white. you shivered beneath him as he rode through the high, his thrusts becoming slower.

your pussy throbbed shamelessly around his thick cock as he came to a stop, burying it deeper so he could milk every last drop of his cum inside of you before pulling out.

you were simply too stunned to speak, still struggling to catch your breath as jimin placed soft kisses along your face. "you okay, baby?" he whispered gently before placing a peck in your hair.

"yes," you replied, eyes big and wide as you took in every last inch of him in front of you. "more than okay, chim."

his gaze softened immediately, moving beside you and immediately wrapping his arms around you—closing the distance between you as you melted against his chest. he breathed in your scent, the shampoo and perfume filling his nostrils and your warmth against him making his heart pump faster than he could ever admit.

and despite the butterflies that sent flying through your body, it felt completely natural in a way you both couldn't ignore. like you both had done this, cuddled up in bed together a million times.

jimin was completely enamored by you, and you could finally see it in the way he looked at you. the dark that had clouded his eyes moments ago while he was inside of you had disappeared entirely—and was replaced by something curated purely from love and devotion.

but he couldn't ignore the way dark circles tugged at the bottom of your eyes as you looked at him so deeply, his heart pulling at the thought of your day today. he pulled you in closer, one hand resting behind your head while the other slowly caressed your cheek.

"you don't have to think right now," he said softly. "just stay with me."

you nodded, a familiar warmth spreading throughout your body and finally to your heart. "i want to stay with you, chim."

he captured your lips in between his slowly, like he had to etch this moment into his brain. when you finally pulled apart, the eye contact was nearly unbreakable. and with a few more kisses and sweet nothings from him, your eyelids became more heavy.

"i've got you baby," he cooed quietly. "i'm not going anywhere. ever."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

you woke up slowly. your eyes opened to soft morning light spilling through the curtains, the room quiet except for the steady rhythm of jimin's breathing behind you.

jimin's. not seojun. not some shitty bum who didn't care about you. it was jimin. his arms were still wrapped around you, firm enough to keep you in place against him all night.

you didn't get up or pull away. instead, you let yourself feel it. everything from last night—clear, vivid, impossible to ignore. the way you chose him. the way it only felt right to keep choosing him.

your chest rose slowly with a breath you didn't realize you were holding. this was real. and it wasn't a mistake. it wasn't something you could pretend didn't happen.

you shifted slightly, just enough to turn in his arms. his grip tightened instantly.

“don’t go,” he murmured, voice rough, barely awake.

your heart softened immediately. “i’m not,” you whispered.

his eyes opened slowly after that, adjusting to the light, but they found you immediately, like they always did.for a second, neither of you spoke. you just looked at each other, eye contact burning while taking the moment all in.

“you’re still here,” he said quietly, like he couldn't believe it.

you almost smiled. “yeah.” like there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

his gaze searched yours for a moment longer, like he was looking for something underneath the surface. something you hadn’t said yet. “do you regret it?” he asked carefully.

you didn’t answer right away. not because you didn’t know—but because you wanted to be honest. your fingers traced lightly along his arm where it rested around you, grounding yourself in the feeling of him. in the reality of this.

“no,” you said finally. but there wasn't any hesitation or fear.

his expression shifted, relief settling over his expression. “not even a little?” he asked, quieter now.

you shook your head gently. “no,” you repeated. "i don’t.”

his hand slid slightly along your side, slower now, less urgent than before but still intentional—like he just needed to feel you there. still his. and still against him.

“i was scared i would,” you admitted softly.

his brows pulled together slightly. “and?”

you met his gaze. "i don't.”

silence settled again, but it wasn’t heavy. instead it was full of uncovered truths and the familiarity of each other.

“i think i'm just... trying to catch up,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “everything feels different.”

“it is,” he said.

your breath caught slightly. “does that scare you?”

"no," he shook his head without hesitation. “only thing that would've scared me is you walking away.”

your chest tightened, because you knew he meant that with everything in him. “i’m not going anywhere,” you said.

and when you said it—it didn’t feel like a maybe or a possibility. and he felt it. his hand stilled for a second at your waist, like he was registering the words and holding onto them.

"good," he murmured softly against you.

you shifted closer without thinking, your hand resting lightly against his chest now, feeling his heartbeat. it felt steady, steadying you into a wave of calmness you haven't experienced in a while.

“this is a lot,” you said again, but softer this time. less overwhelmed, but aware of the future situation awaiting.

“i know,” he said quietly. “but you don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

your eyes lifted back to his. “yeah?”

his thumb brushed lightly along your arm. “just stay."

you nodded. “okay.”

and for awhile, neither of you moved. you didn't rush or overthink anything—you just stayed there. wrapped up in each other, tangled in something that had been building for years, finally existing.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

it should’ve been easy. you'd done this a hundred times before—group settings, loud rooms, easy laughter, nothing to hide.

but now—everything felt different.

you walked in the bar first. jimin came ten minutes later, all on purpose.

jaehyun barely looked up from his phone. “you made it.”

“yeah,” you said, forcing a small smile as you slipped into your seat.

and then—jimin walked in, your breath catching before you could stop it. it was small, quick enough for nobody to notice. but jimin did, like always. your eyes met for half a second. that was it. but it was enough to thicken the tension between you.

he didn’t smile or acknowledge it. just walked past like nothing had changed—like last night simply didn’t exist.

but when he sat down across from you, too close—you felt it immediately. the shift in the energy between you, the awareness in the energy that sparked.

the way you couldn’t look at him for too long without remembering exactly how it felt to be right with him, not even a few hours ago. the way your brother was sitting right next to with the chance of smelling jimin's cologne on you.

“so what’s everyone doing this weekend?” someone asked.

quickly enough, voices overlapped, plans were thrown around. and you tried to focus. tried your best to stay present. but you failed.

because every time you laughed or moved—you could feel his eyes on you. not obvious or constant. but there. always there.

jaehyun nudged you. "you good?" you blinked. "yeah- yeah, i'm fine."

"then why are you zoning out?" he whispered a little too loudly, loud enough for jimin to hear—or maybe he was just eavesdropping too hard.

your stomach dropped. "i'm not."

across the table, jimin leaned back slightly, watching.

at some point, his fingers brushed against your knee under the table. it was accidental and barely there, but your breath caught sharply.

you pulled back immediately, but he didn't. his fingers lingered for a second longer before pulling away, like a reminder. like a warning.

your pulse spiked and you suddenly couldn't bare to look at him, even if you tried with everything in you.

"you okay?" jaehyun asked again. now you couldn’t seem look at your brother either.

"yeah," you said, a little too fast. "just need some air." and you stood before anyone could question you any further, walking out before you could even think.

and not even thirty seconds later, you heard the door open behind you. of course.

"running away again?"

your breath was slightly uneven as you turned to face jimin. "i just- i needed a second."

"you always do that," he said gently.

"you always follow."

he didn't deny it. silence settled for a second, but it didn't stay quiet for long.

"this isn't going to work, chim," you said without thinking, breath uneven and a sad pout forming at your lips. "not like this. not around them."

"then don't act like nothing happened," he said, voice lower now and suddenly much closer.

"i'm just trying to keep this from blowing up," you said.

"and i'm not?" he shot back.

you shook your head slightly. "you're making it harder, chim."

"good."

your brows pulled together. "why would you-"

"because i don't want you pretending we didn't just spend the night together. don't want you pretending like you didn't say you were mine."

and there the words were, out loud, too real, and sitting heavy in the air between you. your breath caught. "you can't just say that out loud."

"i just did," he replied simply, stepping closer to you. it wasn't close enough to draw attention if any of your friends—or your brother—peaked their head out the door to check on you two. but it was enough to for the smell of his cologne and the warmth of his body to wrap around you.

“you think i’m going to go back to acting like you’re just—what?” he continued, quieter now. “my best friend’s little sister?”

your heart skipped. because just minutes ago, that had been exactly what you had tried so desperately to do. sitting there, next to your brother and across from jimin, it all hit you like a truck.

"you're not" he said firmly.

you couldn't ignore the way your chest tightened and your throat swelled at his words. "this is complicated."

"i don't care," he said simply. and he meant it.

his hand found your wrist lightly, but it was enough to ground you. it was enough to look up at him, to hold his intense gaze that almost made your knees buckle.

“i meant what i said,” he added, voice lower now. “i’m not letting you go back to something that wasn’t even right for you.”

your pulse picked up again, looking away from him in pain. “but this isn’t that simple.”

“it is to me.”

and you when looked back up at him, something in your chest ached again. because for not once second did he hesitate. not even a little. he never did when it came to you.

"i only want you," he said quietly, but it was firm and final.

your breath caught, throat swelling as your heart thumped against your chest. because there was no doubt in the way he said it. he said it and left no space for uncertainty in your mind.

"i want you too, jimin," you admitted quietly, tears threatening to form at your water line.

if he hadn't noticed the water pooling at your bottom eyelashes, those words would've knocked him off his balance. he swallowed thickly, like he needed to fully process what you had just admitted.

"hey," he said, his gaze softening quickly. his grip on your arm loosened as he rubbed his thumb against your arm to comfort you. "we're going to figure this out, okay?"

"okay," you sniffled, holding his gaze.

"i can't loose you, y/n," he said, a hint of pain leaking through his tone.

"you won't," you replied almost firmly, tears quickly evaporating.

his hands found yours, intertwining them with his. "good," he muttered quietly, eyes mixed with hope and pain.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

your brother wasn't stupid.

he didn't say anything at first. instead, he just watched.

he watched the way you left the table quickly. and the way his best friend didn't hesitate to follow right after. the way neither of you came back for more than a few minutes.

and when you both finally came back inside, you didn't sit near each other. for the rest of the night, you didn't talk or even look at each other.

it was too careful. you and jimin had never spent the night, out with all of your friends, and not talk to each other once.

later that night, when everyone started heading out—when you had just slipped out the door with one of your girlfriends—your brother caught jimin by the shoulder. “yo.”

he turned, expression neutral. “what's up, man?”

jaehyun paused before asking, “you good, bro?”

it was a normal question. the way he said it was casual. but jimin knew by the randomness of the question, it wasn't at all that.

"yeah," jimin replied, but it came out of his mouth too quick.

jaehyun watched him for a second longer, his brows pulling together slightly. "you and...y/n okay?"

those words landed heavier, the sound of your name thickening the air in a way neither of them had felt before.

but jimin didn't react. "what do you mean?"

"i mean-" jaehyun shrugged slightly "you've been acting weird all night." a beat of silence waved through them. "and so has she."

the air and everything else around them seemed to still for a moment.

"we're good," he said simply, but with a bit too much control.

jaehyun almost didn't look convinced in the slightest bit. but he nodded anyway. "alright," he said, his hand leaving jimin's shoulder.

"just don't make things complicated," jaehyun continued, voice quieter now.

and that almost made jimin laugh,

because it was way too late for that.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

you started texting jimin first. it wouldn't be about anything important.

you: hiii what are you doinggg i miss you

those texts pulled at his heartstrings, making him dizzy in the head and pulling his phone out at work just to text you back. he didn't even look at the time.

jimin: i miss you too pretty girl i'm at work wish i was with you

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

you showed up to his apartment a few days later without hesitation. and he noticed. of course he did.

“you didn’t even think about it this time,” jimin said, watching you step inside while holding the door open for you.

you shrugged slightly, slipping off your shoes. “i knew where i wanted to be.”

and the moment those words left your mouth, it did something to him. and even you could see it. it was in the way his posture shifted, in the way his eyes stayed on you a second longer.

like he was still getting used to the fact that you weren't fighting it anymore. “say that again,” he murmured, stepping closer to you.

your breath caught slightly. “i said i knew where i wanted to be.”

“no,” he said, stepping closer. “the part you didn’t say out loud.”

your heart started racing, because you knew exactly what he meant. you hesitated, but only for a small second. "i wanted you."

silence filled the air, heavy—but charged with some kind of electricity that was enough to make your knees weaken underneath his gaze.

jimin closed the distance instantly, his hand finding your waist, pulling you into him like it was second nature now.

“yeah,” he said quietly, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at those words. “i know.” but his voice wasn't causal or light. it was full of something entirely deeper, something so deep you couldn't ignore it. something that had been waiting.

“you keep choosing me,” he added, his forehead brushing lightly against yours.

your breath caught. "i am."

his grip tightened slightly on you, his other hand finding its way up your neck and against your jaw. "good," he muttered before pulling your lips in with his.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

for two weeks, you and jimin barely went out together.

you'd spent time together his place, seeming to never getting bored of each other's presence. you'd spend those days playing games together, cooking, watching shows—and of course, getting tangled up in his sheets together.

you didn't sit next to each other in front of everyone when going out with friends. didn't make it obvious. but it was definitely there.

it was there in the way his hand would brush yours under the table and linger just a second too long. the way you'd glance across the room and he would already be looking.

the way you'd get a text from him while you were standing ten feet away from him in the club.

jimin: come outside

your heart jumped. and you'd go, every single time.

“anyone could see us,” you whispered, stepping out into the cool night air.

“then stop coming when i ask," he shrugged. because he knew you wouldn’t.

“i hate you, chimmy,” you murmured, but there was no weight behind it.

“no, you don’t," he said, stepping closer. too close, like always. “i can’t get enough of you like this,” he admitted lowly, eyes scanning you and licking his lips so briefly you almost didn't notice it.

it hit you harder than it should’ve. “how?” you asked softly. “we’re barely even—”

“exactly.” his hand found your wrist, pulling you just slightly closer. “but you’re still choosing me.”

your breath caught, heart practically hammering against your chest.

“you don’t even realize what that does to me,” he added, voice so low like it was to himself.

you looked up at him, ignoring the heat pooling between your thighs. “then tell me.”

his eyes dropped to your lips. then, slowly, back up. "it makes me want more," he grunted.

“and what happens when someone finds out?” you whispered.

but he didn’t hesitate. "then they find out.”

“you don’t care?”

his gaze locked onto yours. not even a second of doubt across his face. “not when it comes to you.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

you were in jimin's kitchen, leaning against the counter like you'd been there a hundred times before. because at this point, you basically had.

you were wearing one of his hoodies—like you always did now, when you felt his eyes on you.

“you’re here a lot,” he said, watching you.

you glanced up, smiling. “you complaining?”

“no," he replied quickly.

your smile softened. “then what?”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked at you. taking in every inch of you—wearing his hoodie, in his apartment.

he looked at you like he was trying to figure out how to say something he’d been holding in for too long.

he stepped closer. "i've been wanting this for so long," he admitted quietly, gesturing between you and him. your breath caught.

"you keep choosing me," he continued, his voice lower now. "so i'm asking you-" he paused every so slightly.

"will you be mine?"

your chest tightened, heart beating too quickly for you to fully process his words. it wasn’t dramatic or overly romantic, it was jimin. direct, certain, and too real.

you stepped closer, close enough to be engulfed by his warmth, trying to ignore the way the words made your brain feel like mush. "i am yours," you said quietly, but it was certain.

his hand found your waist instantly, pulling you in like he didn’t need to hold back anymore. “yeah,” he murmured. “you are.”

and this time—it didn’t feel dangerous. it felt so right.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

you kept your things at your apartment, but you stayed at jimin's. more nights than not.

but you started to leave your clothes behind without realizing, and a pink toothbrush eventually showed up. and sometimes—when jaehyun wasn't home for the night, you'd even bring your cat over.

“you’re basically living here,” he muttered one night with a smile, watching you curl up into his couch like it was yours.

you pouted. “you don’t like it?”

he walked over, pulling you up into him without hesitation and placing a kiss on your forehead. “i didn’t say that, baby.”

because he liked it too much. he got so used to you being there. to your voice in his space. to the way you'd fall asleep next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

jimin didn't want it to go back to how it was before. not even a little.“you’re not going anywhere, right?” he asked once, quieter than usual.

you looked up at him, surprised. “where would i go?”

he didn’t answer. because didn’t need to. your hand found his. “i’m not going anywhere, chim.”

and that was all he needed.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

one week into you and jimin being official, the apartment door opened too early. too suddenly.

"yo, man-"

it was your brother. and he stopped mid-sentence at the sight of you. you, his sister, on his best friend's couch—no, better yet—on his lap. with his best friend's arms wrapped around your waist so comfortably.

there was no space between you two, and certainly no excuse that either of you could possibly dare to utter. silence filled the room instantly, heavy and sharp.

"what the fuck is this?" jaehyun exclaimed, brows pulling together sharply. but his voice wasn't loud, it didn't need to be.

you froze, heart dropping in your stomach as you got off jimin's lap. "wait-"

"no," he cut you off, stepping further inside as the door shut a little too hard behind him. "no, i want to hear him explain this."

but jimin didn't move. he didn't step away or take his hands off you. "we're together," he said simply.

your brother laughed humorlessly, a hand dragging across his face. "you're joking."

"no."

“that’s my sister.”

“i know.”

“you've known her since she was a kid.”

“i know," jimin replied again, each answer calmer than the last. which only made it worse for jaeyhun.

“and you thought this was okay?” jaehyun snapped.

“i didn’t think it was anything,” he said. “i know what it is.”

“yeah?” jaehyun shot back. “then say it.”

“i care about her," he said. it didn't come out defensive or rushed. he had said it with his whole chest.

jaehyun looked at you. "is this serious to you?"

your chest tightened. because it absolutely was. "yes," you said, no hesitation found in your tone.

the anger didn't disappear from jaehyun's face, but it shifted—like he was processing instead of exploding. “this is messed up,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “you went behind my back.”

“it wasn’t like that," you protested.

“it's exactly like that.”

silence stretched across the room again, longer this time.

"is he good to you?" jaehyun asked suddenly.

the question caught you off guard, but your heart ached at it. "yes," you replied softly. but it was certain in a way your brother had never heard you say about anybody before.

so, jaehyun looked between you two—really looked. at the way you stood next to each other, the way neither of you pulled away. the way it didn't feel awkward or forced like the way it felt with seojun.

it just felt completely natural.

"i don't like it," your brother said finally. neither of you had expected him to. "but if you hurt her-" jaehyun started, looking directly at jimin now.

"I won't," he interrupted immediately, lacking any hesitation.

another pause between the three of you before your brother sighed, frustrated and still processing. "this is weird," he muttered.

you let out a small breath. "i know."

"but... if you're serious-" jaehyun shook his head. "i'll deal with it."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

the first time you showed up together, it was quiet. at least, both of you had tried to be.

you walked in the club together. not ahead of each other or separate—next to each other. and that was already enough to turn the heads of all of your friends.

"wait-" one your girlfriends, chaewon blinked, looking between you two. "are you guys-?"

jimin didn't even hesitate. "yeah," he said simply. like it wasn't a big deal. like he hadn't been wanting this for years. like it hadn't been something you both were hiding a week ago.

jaehyun was watching from across the room, still adjusting. still not fully used to it.

the only difference in the night was that jimin didn't try to hide anything. at one point, his hand found yours naturally, fingers lacing together like it was all he knew.

like he had been waiting to do it in front of everyone.

you glanced up at him, a little surprised. “you’re bold today, chimmy.”

he barely looked down at you. “i’ve been holding back for years.” and your heart absolutely melted at that.

"okay..." chaewon said at one point, still processing as you met her again on the dance floor, after jimin had let go of your hand and returned to your brother and their friends. "this is—wow."

"unexpected?" you offered.

"very," she said. "but... it really makes sense!"

and for the rest of the night, no one said anything else. because the way he looked at you and the way you leaned into him—it didn't feel casual or temporary. it felt undeniably real.

later, someone made a joke across the table. you laughed, leaning forward slightly—jimin's hand sliding instinctively to your lower back.

it sent butterflies through your stomach in the way that felt grounding. like he always needed to be touching you somehow.

the night started winding down, your friends grabbing their belongings and closing off their bar tabs, but conversation and laughter still lingering.

"come on," jimin said, standing up and reaching for you.

"where are we going, chim?” you hummed, still ever so slightly tipsy.

“out," he shrugged.

“that’s not an answer.”

“it is tonight.”

jaehyun rolled his eyes. “you’re not bringing her back late.”

he didn’t even look back, his hand finding the small of your back again. “i will.”

you laughed as he pulled you along. “you’re unbelievable.”

“yeah,” he murmured, glancing down at you. “but you’re still coming with me.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

you were curled up beside jimin on his couch after he had just took you out to a nice dinner, stomach full from the food and sore from the laughter he got out of you and feet aching from the heels you wore.

your legs tucked were under his and your head rested against his shoulder while something played softly on the TV.

jimin's arm was around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing slow patterns along your arm. it was something he did without thinking now. something you leaned into without question.

“you’re quiet,” you murmured.

“mm.”

it wasn't really an answer. so you tilted your head slightly, looking up at him. "what?"

he didn't respond right away. instead, he just looked at you—longer than usual. your brows pulled together slightly. "what is it, chim?"

still nothing but his same, intense gaze. you felt your heart rate suddenly pick up.

“i’ve been trying not to say something,” he admitted finally, voice low.

your chest tightened. “...why?”

“because i didn’t want to rush you.”

that caught you off guard. “rush me into what?” you asked softly.

and for the first time in a long time—jimin hesitated. and that''s how you knew that whatever it was, it definitely mattered.

his hand stilled against your arm, but his gaze never left yours. "i've loved you for a very long time, y/n," he said gently.

but the words echoed in your head, landing deep in your brain. your breath was completely taken out of you.

"i always have," he added, quieter now. "i just didn't let myself call it that."

your eyes began to fill with water almost instantly. and it wasn't because you were surprised. because somewhere, deep, deep down—you had always known.

“and i didn’t say it before,” he continued, voice steady but softer than you ever heard it, “because i didn’t want you to feel like you had to say it back. or like this—” his hand shifted slightly against you, grounding you there. “—was something you needed to catch up to.”

your chest tightened in a way you had never felt before. "jimin..."

“but i can’t keep pretending it’s not there,” he said. “not when it’s been there longer than anything else.”

a brief silence settled between you, but it wasn't heavy. it was full of everything—your childhood memories, everything you hadn't said to each other, the past month you spent with him.

your vision blurred slightly as the tears finally slipped over. you felt his warm hand gently embrace your face, softly wiping them away.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he added softly. “i just needed you to know.”

you shook your head immediately. "no," you said your voice breaking slightly. "no, i do."

his expression shifted slightly, but it was enough for your blurry vision to pick up. he was watching you, holding you, waiting ever so patiently.

you took a small breath, steadying yourself, your hands finding his shirt, holding onto him like you always did now. “i love you too.”

the words came out through tears, but they were clear. "i think i have for a while too," you admitted. "i just didn't realize it until it was already... you."

jimin's chest tightened in a way that pulled at his heartstrings. because that meant everything to him. the words that he dreamed of you saying to him had left your mouth at once.

both of his hands moved to your face, brushing gently along your cheek, catching the tears there like they mattered.

like you mattered.

“you don’t have to cry,” he murmured softly.

you let out a small, shaky laugh. “i’m not sad.”

“i know, baby.”

he leaned in slowly this time. and it wasn't rushed or desperate, it was certain. and when he kissed you, it wasn't like before.

not like the first time, full of tension and restraint breaking. or like the nights that followed, intense and consuming. this was different—softer, deeper, like everything you hadn't said to each other had finally fallen into place.

when you pulled back, you both didn't move far, foreheads pressed against each others. "i mean it," he murmured.

"i know, chimmy," you sniffled with a smile.

his hand slid back to your waist, pulling you closer again without even thinking. “say it again,” he said quietly.

you smiled through the last bit of your tears. "i love you."

and with that, his finally chest eased in a way he hadn't felt in years. "yeah," he murmured, a big smile forming at his lips as he took in the sight of you. "i love you too."

and for a while, you didn't say anything else. because everything that mattered had already been said.

for the first time, there was nothing left between you and him that wasn't real. no secrets or hesitation. just pure love and devotion. the kind that had always been there, but you both had just finally caught up to it.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

guys i literally love themmm sm😭!! i hope u guys like my first jimin fic!! im personally OBSESSED with his obsession... like god what i would GIVE for him to feel that way about me.. ahem- anyway.. was not planning on making it so long but i just had to give ending full of fluff! love u guys sm!! let me know what y'all think <3

Peaceful on the outside: you would wake up around the same time and he would escape into the bathroom while you went downstairs and got started on breakfast. But on the inside, in the lovesick bubble you were sharing, it was so much more animated.

Animated by the kisses he littered across your shoulders, by his hands rubbing on your waist while you flipped the pancakes, by his body pressed against yours and his murmured “good morning” in your hair.

And today was the same as all the times you spent the night at his place, except for one tiny detail.

He seemed needier.

Needier in a way that wasn’t out of character, but it reminded you of how much clingier he could get after you both spent the night making sweet love. 

His head rubbed against the crook of your neck and you shuddered a bit at the friction.

“Well, someone’s touchy this morning.”

He hummed, his eyes closed and his hands caging you in a way that limited your movements and you feared you’d burn the eggs any time soon.

“Michael please…”

“What? I can’t hug my girl anymore?”

“You can Needy, but please let me finish this first, eggs are expensive.”

Michael disregarded your latest comment (buying eggs truly wasn’t an issue for him, he’ll buy a thousands of them out of his own pocket money if you wished) but frowned at the nickname.

“I ain’t needy.”

You turned your head towards him with a sly smirk.

“Oh, I know you’re not tryna deny it now.”

“What are you talkin’ about? I was never needy. Affectionate, sure, but not needy.”

“”It’s okay lover boy, no need to get all defensive now”

You started laughing, but stopped when you couldn’t feel Michael’s hands on you anymore. He took a step back and now leaned against the counter, his arms crossed and his angelic face tipped down to hide his blush.

“That’s ridiculous, you’re defaming my character”

You plated the eggs and turned around, your attention entirely on him now.

“Prove it, then.”

His face snapped in your direction, his gaze confused.

“Prove it?”

Faux innocence painted your face as you inched closer to him, never touching him.

“I bet you can’t go a day without touching me.”

Defiance lit up his gaze, his irritation replaced with newfound playfulness.

“If I win, which I will, you’ll go on the Rock n’ Roller with me at Disney Land.”

You raised your eyebrow, he knew how frightening this ride was to you. Still, you agreed.

“And if I win, you take me to Prince’s concert!”

He was about to protest, but you mouthed the words “needy” at him before returning to your task. He nodded, all smiles again.

“Bet.”

—-----------------------------------------------

Two hours in, and you expected him to crack already.

But he was weirdly persistent, unbelievably confident at that. 

A few times you see him strut around the house, sending you a charming and slightly cocky smile every time your eyes meet, walking away muttering “That too easy”.

You almost laugh at him, because besides the olympian drive that animated him, you could see he wasn’t able to sit still. You saw him try to watch the TV, but he moved on after a few minutes and picked up his notebook to try and write down some lyrics. He abandoned this activity too, after a while.

You sat on the love chair, observing him from time to time, ultimately occupying yourself by reading your own magazine.

He’ll give up eventually, right?

—----------------------------------------------

By the third hour, Michael’s frustrated.

He never really realized how much he touches you throughout the day: one hand on your thigh when you watch TV, grazing your hips when he slides beside you, pecking your lips whenever he sees you in one of the rooms as a sign of greeting, and the list goes on. 

This was a habit for him, a force of nature. 

And so when lunch rolls around and you sit at the opposite end of the table from him, he frowns.

“Y’know, the bet is that I can’t touch you. Not that we have to ignore each other” he pouts.

You smile at him cheekily and take your plate, intending to move closer.

“Oh, my fault. I thought I would make things easier for you, since you’re clearly losing.”

He scoffs at you and blocks the chair next to him before you can pull it out completely and sit on it. 

“Losing? I haven’t touched you in three hours, now have I?”

“Yeah, you’ve only been reaching for my hand and retracting, leaning for kisses and dodging, and hovering your hands above my waist for the past three hours”

Michale observes you for a second, stunned, then frowns and directs his gaze towards the ceiling, pondering.

Am I really that needy?

“Alright. Stay where you are.”

—----------------------------------------------

Six hours have passed now, and Michael has disappeared entirely from your vision field.

He tried locking himself up in the studio and working on some recordings, but every time he tries to sing his thoughts wander back to you and his skin itches.

He believed it was a part of your plan to make him give up, but along with the disappearance of your touch, you stopped being good to him.

You weren’t mean in the literal sense of the word. But all throughout the day, or at least after the bet was placed, you stopped calling him sweet names and having mundane conversations where you would praise him just a tiny bit. No baby, no angel face, no good boy.

And God, did he miss you.

He tried to tell himself he just needed to wait until midnight. Then, everything would be back in place, you’ll finally touch him again, press your body against his and thread your hands through his hair and stroke his cock ever so gently–

He shook his hand to try and shake the thought away. They’re not of any help.

His fingers dance and tap against the padded walls of his studio, but he grows restless with the deafening silence of the place and decides to take a walk in the garden. Surely seeing the animals would help.

—---------------------------------------------

By the ninth hour, you decided you were going to play dirty. After all, no one said you weren’t allowed to tease him.

And so you changed from your hoodie and sweatpants combo to one of Michael’s larger t-shirts and…well, your panties.

You start wandering around the house, looking for him. You pass the living room, the mini cinema, and Janet's playroom before finding him in his own room looking through records. 

Upon your arrival he looks in your direction, and conflict crosses his eyes. His gaze lingers on your legs, and you swear you could see him salivate at the sight.

He murmurs something that you cannot quite decipher, sounding weirdly like whining.

“What?”

“It’s not fair.” he sighs through his nose and covers his face with his big hands, yet peeks through them at you.

You almost feel bad.

“...does that count if you hug me first?”

Your chest blooms at his cuteness, but you’re determined to win this bet and the prize that comes with it.

“Yes, it does.”

“But it won’t be me touching you.”

“But you’ll still be touching me, so it does.”

Michael looks like he’s on the verge of throwing a tantrum, his hands itching by his sides, wishing so badly to settle on your plush thighs and…and maybe, if you let him, spread them open.

He whines again at the thought.

“Common, you know you want it too”

You raise your brow at that, smirking at him before turning towards the door and swaying your hips on your way out.

“Do I?”

Michael almost follows you out.

—----------------------------------------------

You look at the big clock at the center of his mansion. 10 pm. Maybe Michael won, after all.

You’re impressed with Michael’s strength of will, but most of all,  you wonder if you’ve gone too far with the bed. I mean, truly, you missed him too, and the day was miserable. You don’t even know where he is now, but guess you should probably head home.

As you walk into his room, you find him asleep on his big bed. He looks agitated even in his sleep, and you decide to wake him up. You voice his name out loud.

Before you can touch him, his eyes flutter open and he looks at you like you’re the anchor to his reality. He sits up slowly, sleepily rubs his eyes and looks around at the dark window before asking. He looks exhausted, worn out in a way that goes beyond sleep.

“What time is it?”

“A little past ten, Mikey. I think I’ll head home.”

The sleepy bubble he was in pops at your words and he sits straighter, his body now turned towards you. His curls were flattened from sleep, his sweatshirt sleeves pulled over his hands. He looked smaller somehow.

“What? Why?”

You let out a saddened laugh and sit on the edge of his bed, keeping distance from him. He wants to ask why, but the memories from the day come surging back in and he sighs. The bet.

“Well, I’m getting sleepy and there’s nothing much I can do here since we’re not really spending time together.”

He frowns again, all the pent up frustration from the day surging through his body and he feels like he might start crying any time soon. What was he even thinking? He’s miserable, and his stubbornness has done nothing but make the entire day uncomfortable for the both of you.

“You don’t have to go.”

“Michael, it’s late.”

“You could stay.”

“For what?”

He missed your touch, missed your presence, missed your smile. Missed littering kisses along your skin and watching you squirm, missed having you kiss him senseless and then cup his heated cheeks.

You were here with him all day, home with him, but it was as if you weren’t. All because of this stupid bet.

His hand reaches out to yours over the comforter, settling it between the two of you, untouched, waiting for you.

You glance at his hand, at him, before turning your gaze in the opposite direction, your hand retracting with you.

That’s what makes him snap.

“I’m sorry.”

You abruptly turn your head towards him, surprised at his words and the heaviness he carried with them.

“Michael?”

He sniffles and quickly rubs his nose, and that’s when you notice the tears running down his face. Oh no no no.

“This bet’s so stupid…”

“Oh, Michael, baby…”

Without thinking about it, you cross the distance between you two and slot your body against his as you take him into your embrace.

He tries to stop the tears from escaping his bloodshot eyes, but the moment his skin meets yours a muffled whimper escapes him. His head settles against the crook of your neck, his arms circling your waist and slightly lifting you up, urging you to straddle his thighs.

“I don’t care about the bet anymore” his voice is weak, muffled against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I thought it would be easy” he chokes up on his words, his voice cracking as he finishes his sentence. “I don’t like going a day without you.”

One of your hands slips into his curls as the other rubs slow circles into his back. Michael practically melts against you, burying his face deeper into your neck as though he’s trying to make up for every second spent apart from you.

“It’s okay angel face” you whisper.

He sniffles again, and his grip tightens against you.

"No, it's not."

A watery laugh escapes you. Your poor baby, you thought.

"No?"

He shakes his head. "I hated it," he gets his head out of your neck for the first time since he cozied up against you, his doe eyes shining with such reverence your stomach curled. "I hated all of it."

You press a kiss to his wet cheek.

“I know” then another, right below his left eye “baby had a rough day huh?”

He nods, unable to speak again, not when the moment seemed so fragile. The sight is so endearing you almost laugh.

Instead, your hands come to cup his face, wiping away at his tears before your lips settle ever so gently on his. His eyes flutter shut, a pathetic whimper escaping him and landing on your lips: you could almost taste it. 

The kiss is tooth-rootingly sweet for a few seconds, chaste at first, his lips sliding against your own in the midst of popcorn like pecks. But Michael surprises you when he probes his tongue tentatively in between your lips, and you gasp. He takes the occasion, fully emerging his tongue in your mouth while letting out a content sigh.

He kisses you wet and slightly messy, his movements growing erratic, his hips accidentally bucking up against yours. At that, you break the kiss, and his lips follow in an attempt to regain contact with your own.

"You know," you murmurs, thumb stroking his cheek, "I think it's safe to say you lost."

Michael huffs a laugh, his cheeks red.

"I know. That’s horrible."

"No, it’s good."

His brows lift, confusion painting his face.

"Good?"

You smile again, more mischievous this time. One of your hands settles on his shoulder, and the other one tug lightly at the base of his hair.

"Because winners don't get consolation prizes."

The realization dawns on him immediately, and an impromptu moan, louder than he anticipated, crosses the barrier of his lips. 

"Consolation prize?"

You hum again, taking notice of his hands sliding under your top. You grab one of them, stopping him in his tracks.

“Only if you’re good for mommy”

His eyes widened at the term, his cock throbbing against his briefs. He sits there, stunned and wholeheartedly enamored, silent.

Your head tilts right as you look at him with expectation. “We clear baby?”

“Yes” he nods again, eager.

You tut, shaking your head in faux disappointment.

“Yes who?”

The words are tentative when he speaks them “...yes mommy.”

Excitement fills your eyes at that, and you detach from him.“Good boy.” Your hand settles on his chest, pushing delicately “Now lay down for me, okay?”

His eyes never leaving yours, he agrees “yes mommy.”

Your mind runs through all the things you could do to him in that very moment, but you settle on what seems the most logical right then and there. Your hands find the buckle of his jeans, and you undo it with practiced ease.

Michael watches you as best he can, unable to keep his eyes off you. Your touch on his fervent skin feels unreal after the hours he spent without it, and he obliges when you hurriedly commands he takes his shirt off.

He observes as you take his pants all the way down, his boxers following. He’s tempted to rest on his elbow for a better show, but is he even allowed to? The last thing he wants is to upset his mommy–

A loud moan breaks through his contemplation.

“M-mommy…oh” his eyes dance between your naked breasts and your hand slowly stroking his shaft.

You hum in answer, though you don’t really expect one from him at this moment. You watch as he fights the instinct to roll his eyes to the back of his head, wanting to watch every second, every single one of your movements.

You accelerate the movement of your hand, slowing down every time Michael’s moans increase in pitch and you feel like he might cum. You wanted this to last.

"Mommy, mommy please…let me—" his hips buck up, his thighs clenching.

"No. Not yet."

"But—"

"No buts."

He feels his body heating up all over, his hands reaching for the sheets and holding onto them for dear life when you wrap your lips around his tip.

You watch as he struggles to stay still, his chest heaving rapidly as you take him deeper into your mouth. When you hollow your cheeks for greater suction, he almost screams in warning.

"No! I-if you do that, I’m," his words get interrupted by another unstoppable manifestation of his desire "I’ll cum, don’t wanna cum like that, mommy please" he takes a deep breath, forcing the last words out of his mouth "wanna cum inside ya’."

You sit straighter, your lips leaving his shaft with a pop, before admiring him tenderly, your hand still stroking him.

"Wanna cum inside baby?"

He gives you three curt nods, vision blurry and chest flushed.

You shrug and fain indifference before muttering a small okay. You work your way around his body, taking the rest of your clothes off in the midst of your actions, putting one foot on each side of his hips before crouching down centimeters away from his leaky cock.

His member twitches as you grab it again, teasing it against your entrance, sliding it between your slick folds. Michael’s eyes follow his mauve tip as it nudges your clit and you let out a tiny whimper. He loves it, but he would love it more if you just sank onto him. But given how bad he had been today, he would be grateful if you made yourself come from the movement of your heat against his dick alone.

It’s hard for you to keep your composure when his hand reaches for your hips, and despite his pent up need, he settles them gently on you, his grip never hard, never hurting.

His lashes seem to have grown in size, emphasized by the tears that were coasting his waterline moments ago, and when you swipe his cock close to your entrance for the third time, he thrusts. The tip of his member enters you, but you take it out almost instantly.

The moan that ensues sounds weird to his ears: full of pleasure and mixed with feigned incredulity as he looks into your eyes, seemingly communicating the words I didn’t do it on purpose mommy. He absolutely did.

“Look at how needy you are” you punctuate your words by once again letting just the tip of his cock inside before retracting, and this time he doesn’t object.

“Yes, yes mommy, so needy fr’you. Please, please just put it in.”

“But I did baby” you repeat the motion “just the tip no?”

He whines again, crystal tears shining in his wide eyes.

“No, no the tip’s not enough. Mommy please, I'll be good, so so good just–” he chokes up on his words when you sink a little deeper on his shaft, retracting again, and he almost shakes with need. He feels like he might cum just from this, but what a waste would it be.

“Yeah? Will you be good from now on? Stop being so stubborn?”

He nods frantically, his cheeks warm and wet, his curls sticking to his forehead. “Yes, I'll always listen to you. Please just please”

You finally decide to alleviate his pain, sinking fully onto him, inch by inch, his engorged cock squeezing into your tight cunt. His head rolls back, unable to look at you in fear he might go feral.

Once settled, you start moving immediately in an up and down motion despite the discomfort. You bounce on his cock with a maintained rhythm, chasing your high sure, but his first and foremost.

He feels it, knows that he won’t last long enough for you to squeeze his cock in your release, and an apology is already forming on the tip of his tongue as he thrusts with newfound speed into your warm pussy. He feels his undoing creep up his spine when your tongue curls against his ear, your warm breath thrilling him to his core.

Then he cums. His entire body spams with the pleasure overtaking it, chants of your name filling the room alongside his moans. He has no time for regret as your rhythm changes, your hips now grinding against his own as he pumps his seed deep into you.

He comes down from his high and you’re still going, the friction of his pubic bone against your clit and the compelling fullness of his member inside you pushing you closer and closer to your climax. Michael twitches and moans in overstimulation, but ultimately doesn’t stop anything. He could if he wanted to, he knows the safe word, but he finds a twisted pleasure in seeing you use him for your own release.

When you finally cum, it’s in all your glory, and Michael is mesmerized as he watches your head tilt back and your back arch. He waits until you come down and slouch yourself against his chest, his hands coming up to your back and rubbing slow circles to help you ride the wave. He’s still inside you, his member still hard or made hard anew at the sight of you, he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to admit to any of the options.

But in your blissed out state you still take notice, and look into his eyes, your nose and his touching. You giggle a bit and ask in a soft, admiring tone.

"Baby’s still needy?"

He smiles at you, and can’t remember why he was so against you calling him needy in the first place when he is, and will keep on being needy if it means you’ll keep doting on him just like this.

Peaceful on the outside: you would wake up around the same time and he would escape into the bathroom while you went downstairs and got started on breakfast. But on the inside, in the lovesick bubble you were sharing, it was so much more animated.

Animated by the kisses he littered across your shoulders, by his hands rubbing on your waist while you flipped the pancakes, by his body pressed against yours and his murmured “good morning” in your hair.

And today was the same as all the times you spent the night at his place, except for one tiny detail.

He seemed needier.

Needier in a way that wasn’t out of character, but it reminded you of how much clingier he could get after you both spent the night making sweet love. 

His head rubbed against the crook of your neck and you shuddered a bit at the friction.

“Well, someone’s touchy this morning.”

He hummed, his eyes closed and his hands caging you in a way that limited your movements and you feared you’d burn the eggs any time soon.

“Michael please…”

“What? I can’t hug my girl anymore?”

“You can Needy, but please let me finish this first, eggs are expensive.”

Michael disregarded your latest comment (buying eggs truly wasn’t an issue for him, he’ll buy a thousands of them out of his own pocket money if you wished) but frowned at the nickname.

“I ain’t needy.”

You turned your head towards him with a sly smirk.

“Oh, I know you’re not tryna deny it now.”

“What are you talkin’ about? I was never needy. Affectionate, sure, but not needy.”

“”It’s okay lover boy, no need to get all defensive now”

You started laughing, but stopped when you couldn’t feel Michael’s hands on you anymore. He took a step back and now leaned against the counter, his arms crossed and his angelic face tipped down to hide his blush.

“That’s ridiculous, you’re defaming my character”

You plated the eggs and turned around, your attention entirely on him now.

“Prove it, then.”

His face snapped in your direction, his gaze confused.

“Prove it?”

Faux innocence painted your face as you inched closer to him, never touching him.

“I bet you can’t go a day without touching me.”

Defiance lit up his gaze, his irritation replaced with newfound playfulness.

“If I win, which I will, you’ll go on the Rock n’ Roller with me at Disney Land.”

You raised your eyebrow, he knew how frightening this ride was to you. Still, you agreed.

“And if I win, you take me to Prince’s concert!”

He was about to protest, but you mouthed the words “needy” at him before returning to your task. He nodded, all smiles again.

“Bet.”

—-----------------------------------------------

Two hours in, and you expected him to crack already.

But he was weirdly persistent, unbelievably confident at that. 

A few times you see him strut around the house, sending you a charming and slightly cocky smile every time your eyes meet, walking away muttering “That too easy”.

You almost laugh at him, because besides the olympian drive that animated him, you could see he wasn’t able to sit still. You saw him try to watch the TV, but he moved on after a few minutes and picked up his notebook to try and write down some lyrics. He abandoned this activity too, after a while.

You sat on the love chair, observing him from time to time, ultimately occupying yourself by reading your own magazine.

He’ll give up eventually, right?

—----------------------------------------------

By the third hour, Michael’s frustrated.

He never really realized how much he touches you throughout the day: one hand on your thigh when you watch TV, grazing your hips when he slides beside you, pecking your lips whenever he sees you in one of the rooms as a sign of greeting, and the list goes on. 

This was a habit for him, a force of nature. 

And so when lunch rolls around and you sit at the opposite end of the table from him, he frowns.

“Y’know, the bet is that I can’t touch you. Not that we have to ignore each other” he pouts.

You smile at him cheekily and take your plate, intending to move closer.

“Oh, my fault. I thought I would make things easier for you, since you’re clearly losing.”

He scoffs at you and blocks the chair next to him before you can pull it out completely and sit on it. 

“Losing? I haven’t touched you in three hours, now have I?”

“Yeah, you’ve only been reaching for my hand and retracting, leaning for kisses and dodging, and hovering your hands above my waist for the past three hours”

Michale observes you for a second, stunned, then frowns and directs his gaze towards the ceiling, pondering.

Am I really that needy?

“Alright. Stay where you are.”

—----------------------------------------------

Six hours have passed now, and Michael has disappeared entirely from your vision field.

He tried locking himself up in the studio and working on some recordings, but every time he tries to sing his thoughts wander back to you and his skin itches.

He believed it was a part of your plan to make him give up, but along with the disappearance of your touch, you stopped being good to him.

You weren’t mean in the literal sense of the word. But all throughout the day, or at least after the bet was placed, you stopped calling him sweet names and having mundane conversations where you would praise him just a tiny bit. No baby, no angel face, no good boy.

And God, did he miss you.

He tried to tell himself he just needed to wait until midnight. Then, everything would be back in place, you’ll finally touch him again, press your body against his and thread your hands through his hair and stroke his cock ever so gently–

He shook his hand to try and shake the thought away. They’re not of any help.

His fingers dance and tap against the padded walls of his studio, but he grows restless with the deafening silence of the place and decides to take a walk in the garden. Surely seeing the animals would help.

—---------------------------------------------

By the ninth hour, you decided you were going to play dirty. After all, no one said you weren’t allowed to tease him.

And so you changed from your hoodie and sweatpants combo to one of Michael’s larger t-shirts and…well, your panties.

You start wandering around the house, looking for him. You pass the living room, the mini cinema, and Janet's playroom before finding him in his own room looking through records. 

Upon your arrival he looks in your direction, and conflict crosses his eyes. His gaze lingers on your legs, and you swear you could see him salivate at the sight.

He murmurs something that you cannot quite decipher, sounding weirdly like whining.

“What?”

“It’s not fair.” he sighs through his nose and covers his face with his big hands, yet peeks through them at you.

You almost feel bad.

“...does that count if you hug me first?”

Your chest blooms at his cuteness, but you’re determined to win this bet and the prize that comes with it.

“Yes, it does.”

“But it won’t be me touching you.”

“But you’ll still be touching me, so it does.”

Michael looks like he’s on the verge of throwing a tantrum, his hands itching by his sides, wishing so badly to settle on your plush thighs and…and maybe, if you let him, spread them open.

He whines again at the thought.

“Common, you know you want it too”

You raise your brow at that, smirking at him before turning towards the door and swaying your hips on your way out.

“Do I?”

Michael almost follows you out.

—----------------------------------------------

You look at the big clock at the center of his mansion. 10 pm. Maybe Michael won, after all.

You’re impressed with Michael’s strength of will, but most of all,  you wonder if you’ve gone too far with the bed. I mean, truly, you missed him too, and the day was miserable. You don’t even know where he is now, but guess you should probably head home.

As you walk into his room, you find him asleep on his big bed. He looks agitated even in his sleep, and you decide to wake him up. You voice his name out loud.

Before you can touch him, his eyes flutter open and he looks at you like you’re the anchor to his reality. He sits up slowly, sleepily rubs his eyes and looks around at the dark window before asking. He looks exhausted, worn out in a way that goes beyond sleep.

“What time is it?”

“A little past ten, Mikey. I think I’ll head home.”

The sleepy bubble he was in pops at your words and he sits straighter, his body now turned towards you. His curls were flattened from sleep, his sweatshirt sleeves pulled over his hands. He looked smaller somehow.

“What? Why?”

You let out a saddened laugh and sit on the edge of his bed, keeping distance from him. He wants to ask why, but the memories from the day come surging back in and he sighs. The bet.

“Well, I’m getting sleepy and there’s nothing much I can do here since we’re not really spending time together.”

He frowns again, all the pent up frustration from the day surging through his body and he feels like he might start crying any time soon. What was he even thinking? He’s miserable, and his stubbornness has done nothing but make the entire day uncomfortable for the both of you.

“You don’t have to go.”

“Michael, it’s late.”

“You could stay.”

“For what?”

He missed your touch, missed your presence, missed your smile. Missed littering kisses along your skin and watching you squirm, missed having you kiss him senseless and then cup his heated cheeks.

You were here with him all day, home with him, but it was as if you weren’t. All because of this stupid bet.

His hand reaches out to yours over the comforter, settling it between the two of you, untouched, waiting for you.

You glance at his hand, at him, before turning your gaze in the opposite direction, your hand retracting with you.

That’s what makes him snap.

“I’m sorry.”

You abruptly turn your head towards him, surprised at his words and the heaviness he carried with them.

“Michael?”

He sniffles and quickly rubs his nose, and that’s when you notice the tears running down his face. Oh no no no.

“This bet’s so stupid…”

“Oh, Michael, baby…”

Without thinking about it, you cross the distance between you two and slot your body against his as you take him into your embrace.

He tries to stop the tears from escaping his bloodshot eyes, but the moment his skin meets yours a muffled whimper escapes him. His head settles against the crook of your neck, his arms circling your waist and slightly lifting you up, urging you to straddle his thighs.

“I don’t care about the bet anymore” his voice is weak, muffled against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I thought it would be easy” he chokes up on his words, his voice cracking as he finishes his sentence. “I don’t like going a day without you.”

One of your hands slips into his curls as the other rubs slow circles into his back. Michael practically melts against you, burying his face deeper into your neck as though he’s trying to make up for every second spent apart from you.

“It’s okay angel face” you whisper.

He sniffles again, and his grip tightens against you.

"No, it's not."

A watery laugh escapes you. Your poor baby, you thought.

"No?"

He shakes his head. "I hated it," he gets his head out of your neck for the first time since he cozied up against you, his doe eyes shining with such reverence your stomach curled. "I hated all of it."

You press a kiss to his wet cheek.

“I know” then another, right below his left eye “baby had a rough day huh?”

He nods, unable to speak again, not when the moment seemed so fragile. The sight is so endearing you almost laugh.

Instead, your hands come to cup his face, wiping away at his tears before your lips settle ever so gently on his. His eyes flutter shut, a pathetic whimper escaping him and landing on your lips: you could almost taste it. 

The kiss is tooth-rootingly sweet for a few seconds, chaste at first, his lips sliding against your own in the midst of popcorn like pecks. But Michael surprises you when he probes his tongue tentatively in between your lips, and you gasp. He takes the occasion, fully emerging his tongue in your mouth while letting out a content sigh.

He kisses you wet and slightly messy, his movements growing erratic, his hips accidentally bucking up against yours. At that, you break the kiss, and his lips follow in an attempt to regain contact with your own.

"You know," you murmurs, thumb stroking his cheek, "I think it's safe to say you lost."

Michael huffs a laugh, his cheeks red.

"I know. That’s horrible."

"No, it’s good."

His brows lift, confusion painting his face.

"Good?"

You smile again, more mischievous this time. One of your hands settles on his shoulder, and the other one tug lightly at the base of his hair.

"Because winners don't get consolation prizes."

The realization dawns on him immediately, and an impromptu moan, louder than he anticipated, crosses the barrier of his lips. 

"Consolation prize?"

You hum again, taking notice of his hands sliding under your top. You grab one of them, stopping him in his tracks.

“Only if you’re good for mommy”

His eyes widened at the term, his cock throbbing against his briefs. He sits there, stunned and wholeheartedly enamored, silent.

Your head tilts right as you look at him with expectation. “We clear baby?”

“Yes” he nods again, eager.

You tut, shaking your head in faux disappointment.

“Yes who?”

The words are tentative when he speaks them “...yes mommy.”

Excitement fills your eyes at that, and you detach from him.“Good boy.” Your hand settles on his chest, pushing delicately “Now lay down for me, okay?”

His eyes never leaving yours, he agrees “yes mommy.”

Your mind runs through all the things you could do to him in that very moment, but you settle on what seems the most logical right then and there. Your hands find the buckle of his jeans, and you undo it with practiced ease.

Michael watches you as best he can, unable to keep his eyes off you. Your touch on his fervent skin feels unreal after the hours he spent without it, and he obliges and when hurriedly commanded he takes his shirt off.

He observes as you take his pants all the way down, his boxers following. He’s tempted to rest on his elbow for a better show, but is he even allowed to? The last thing he wants is to upset his mommy–

A loud moan breaks through his contemplation.

“M-mommy…oh” his eyes dance between your naked breasts and your hand slowly stroking his shaft.

You hum in answer, though you don’t really expect one from him at this moment. You watch as he fights the instinct to roll his eyes to the back of his head, wanting to watch every second, every single one of your movements.

You accelerate the movement of your hand, slowing down every time Michael’s moans increase in pitch and you feel like he might cum. You wanted this to last.

« Mommy, mommy please…let me— » his hips buck up, his thighs clenching

« No. Not yet. »

« But—»

« No buts. »

He feels his body heating up all over, his hands reaching for the sheets and holding onto them for dear life when you wrap your lips around his tip.

You watch as he struggles to stay still, his chest heaving rapidly as you take him deeper into your mouth. When you hollow your cheeks to great suction, he almost screams in warning.

« No! I-if you do that, I’m » his words get interrupted any another unstoppable manifestation of his desire « I’ll cum, don’t wanna cum like that, mommy please » he takes a deep breath, forcing the last words out of his mouth « wanna cum inside ya’ »

You sit straighter, your lips leaving his shaft with a pop, before admiring him tenderly, your hand still stroking him.

« Wanna cum inside baby? »

He gives you three curt nods, vision blurry and chest flushed.

You shrug, gaining indifference before muttering a small okay. You work your way around his body, taking your clothes off in the midst of your actions, putting one foot on each side of his hips before crouching down centimeters away from his leaky cock.

His cock twitches as you grab it again, teasing it against your entrance, sliding the member between your slick folds. Michael’s eyes follow his mauve tip as it nudges your clit and you let out a tiny whimper. He loves it, but he would love it more if you just sank onto him. But given how bad he had been today, he would be grateful if you made yourself come from the movement of your heat against his dick alone.

It’s hard for you to keep your composure when his hand reaches for your hips, and despite his pent up need settle gently on them, his grip never hard, never hurting.

His lashes seem to have grown in size, emphasized by the tears that were coasting his waterline moments ago, and when you swipe his member close to your entrance for the third time, he thrusts. The tip of his member enters you, but you take it out almost instantly.

The moan that ensues sounds weird to his ears: full of pleasure and mixed with feigned incredulity as he looks into your eyes, seemingly communicating the words I didn’t do it on purpose mommy. He absolutely did.

“Look at how needy you are” you punctuate your words by once again letting just the tip of his cock inside before retracting, and this time he doesn’t object.

“Yes, yes mommy, so needy fr’you. Please, please just put it in.”

“But I did baby” you repeat the motion “just the tip we said”.

He whines again, crystal tears shining in his wide eyes.

“No, no the tip’s not enough. Mommy please, I'll be good, so so good just–” he chokes up on his words when sink a little deeper on his shaft, retracting again, and he almost shakes with need. He feels like he might cum just from this, but what a waste would it be.

“Yeah? Will you be good from now on? Stop being so stubborn?”

He nods frantically, his cheeks warm and wet, his curls sticking to his forehead. “Yes, I'll always listen to you. Please just  please”

You finally decide to alleviate his pain, sinking fully onto him, inch by inch, his engorged cock squeezing into your tight cunt. His head rolls back, unable to look at you in fear he might go feral.

Once settled, you start moving immediately in an up and down motion despite the discomfort. You bounce on his cock with a maintained rhythm, chasing your high sure, but his first and foremost.

He feels it, knows that he won’t last long enough for you to squeeze his cock in your release, and an apology is already forming on the tip of his tongue as he thrusts with newfound speed into your warm pussy. He feels his undoing creep up his spine when your tongue curls against his ear, your warm breath thrilling him to his core.

Then he cums. His entire body spams with the pleasure overtaking it, chants of your name filling the room alongside his moans. He has no time for regret as your rhythm changes, your hips now grinding against his own as he pumps his seed deep into you.

He comes down from his high, and you’re still going, the friction of his pubic bone against your clit and the compelling fullness of his member inside you pushing you closer and closer to your climax. Michael twitches and moans in overstimulation, but ultimately doesn’t stop anything. He could if he wanted to, he knows the safe word, but he finds a twisted pleasure in seeing you use him for your own release.

When you finally cum, it’s in all your glory, and Michael is mesmerized as he watches your head tilt back and your back arch. He waits until you come down and slouch yourself against his chest, his hands coming up to your back and rubbing slow circles to help you ride the wave. He’s still inside you, his member still hard or made hard anew at the sight of you, he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to admit to any of the options.

But in your blissed out state you still take notice, and look into his eyes, your nose and his touching. You giggle a bit and ask in a soft, admiring tone.

« Baby’s still needy? »

He smiles at you, and can’t remember why he was so against you calling him needy in the first place when he is, and will keep on being needy if it means you’ll keep doting on him just like this.

Peaceful on the outside: you would wake up around the same time and he would escape into the bathroom while you went downstairs and got started on breakfast. But on the inside, in the lovesick bubble you were sharing, it was so much more animated.

Animated by the kisses he littered across your shoulders, by his hands rubbing on your waist while you flipped the pancakes, by his body pressed against yours and his murmured “good morning” in your hair.

And today was the same as all the times you spent the night at his place, except for one tiny detail.

He seemed needier.

Needier in a way that wasn’t out of character, but it reminded you of how much clingier he could get after you both spent the night making sweet love. 

His head rubbed against the crook of your neck and you shuddered a bit at the friction.

“Well, someone’s touchy this morning.”

He hummed, his eyes closed and his hands caging you in a way that limited your movements and you feared you’d burn the eggs any time soon.

“Michael please…”

“What? I can’t hug my girl anymore?”

“You can Needy, but please let me finish this first, eggs are expensive.”

Michael disregarded your latest comment (buying eggs truly wasn’t an issue for him, he’ll buy a thousands of them out of his own pocket money if you wished) but frowned at the nickname.

“I ain’t needy.”

You turned your head towards him with a sly smirk.

“Oh, I know you’re not tryna deny it now.”

“What are you talkin’ about? I was never needy. Affectionate, sure, but not needy.”

“”It’s okay lover boy, no need to get all defensive now”

You started laughing, but stopped when you couldn’t feel Michael’s hands on you anymore. He took a step back and now leaned against the counter, his arms crossed and his angelic face tipped down to hide his blush.

“That’s ridiculous, you’re defaming my character”

You plated the eggs and turned around, your attention entirely on him now.

“Prove it, then.”

His face snapped in your direction, his gaze confused.

“Prove it?”

Faux innocence painted your face as you inched closer to him, never touching him.

“I bet you can’t go a day without touching me.”

Defiance lit up his gaze, his irritation replaced with newfound playfulness.

“If I win, which I will, you’ll go on the Rock n’ Roller with me at Disney Land.”

You raised your eyebrow, he knew how frightening this ride was to you. Still, you agreed.

“And if I win, you take me to Prince’s concert!”

He was about to protest, but you mouthed the words “needy” at him before returning to your task. He nodded, all smiles again.

“Bet.”

—-----------------------------------------------

Two hours in, and you expected him to crack already.

But he was weirdly persistent, unbelievably confident at that. 

A few times you see him strut around the house, sending you a charming and slightly cocky smile every time your eyes meet, walking away muttering “That too easy”.

You almost laugh at him, because besides the olympian drive that animated him, you could see he wasn’t able to sit still. You saw him try to watch the TV, but he moved on after a few minutes and picked up his notebook to try and write down some lyrics. He abandoned this activity too, after a while.

You sat on the love chair, observing him from time to time, ultimately occupying yourself by reading your own magazine.

He’ll give up eventually, right?

—----------------------------------------------

By the third hour, Michael’s frustrated.

He never really realized how much he touches you throughout the day: one hand on your thigh when you watch TV, grazing your hips when he slides beside you, pecking your lips whenever he sees you in one of the rooms as a sign of greeting, and the list goes on. 

This was a habit for him, a force of nature. 

And so when lunch rolls around and you sit at the opposite end of the table from him, he frowns.

“Y’know, the bet is that I can’t touch you. Not that we have to ignore each other” he pouts.

You smile at him cheekily and take your plate, intending to move closer.

“Oh, my fault. I thought I would make things easier for you, since you’re clearly losing.”

He scoffs at you and blocks the chair next to him before you can pull it out completely and sit on it. 

“Losing? I haven’t touched you in three hours, now have I?”

“Yeah, you’ve only been reaching for my hand and retracting, leaning for kisses and dodging, and hovering your hands above my waist for the past three hours”

Michale observes you for a second, stunned, then frowns and directs his gaze towards the ceiling, pondering.

Am I really that needy?

“Alright. Stay where you are.”

—----------------------------------------------

Six hours have passed now, and Michael has disappeared entirely from your vision field.

He tried locking himself up in the studio and working on some recordings, but every time he tries to sing his thoughts wander back to you and his skin itches.

He believed it was a part of your plan to make him give up, but along with the disappearance of your touch, you stopped being good to him.

You weren’t mean in the literal sense of the word. But all throughout the day, or at least after the bet was placed, you stopped calling him sweet names and having mundane conversations where you would praise him just a tiny bit. No baby, no angel face, no good boy.

And God, did he miss you.

He tried to tell himself he just needed to wait until midnight. Then, everything would be back in place, you’ll finally touch him again, press your body against his and thread your hands through his hair and stroke his cock ever so gently–

He shook his hand to try and shake the thought away. They’re not of any help.

His fingers dance and tap against the padded walls of his studio, but he grows restless with the deafening silence of the place and decides to take a walk in the garden. Surely seeing the animals would help.

—---------------------------------------------

By the ninth hour, you decided you were going to play dirty. After all, no one said you weren’t allowed to tease him.

And so you changed from your hoodie and sweatpants combo to one of Michael’s larger t-shirts and…well, your panties.

You start wandering around the house, looking for him. You pass the living room, the mini cinema, and Janet's playroom before finding him in his own room looking through records. 

Upon your arrival he looks in your direction, and conflict crosses his eyes. His gaze lingers on your legs, and you swear you could see him salivate at the sight.

He murmurs something that you cannot quite decipher, sounding weirdly like whining.

“What?”

“It’s not fair.” he sighs through his nose and covers his face with his big hands, yet peeks through them at you.

You almost feel bad.

“...does that count if you hug me first?”

Your chest blooms at his cuteness, but you’re determined to win this bet and the prize that comes with it.

“Yes, it does.”

“But it won’t be me touching you.”

“But you’ll still be touching me, so it does.”

Michael looks like he’s on the verge of throwing a tantrum, his hands itching by his sides, wishing so badly to settle on your plush thighs and…and maybe, if you let him, spread them open.

He whines again at the thought.

“Common, you know you want it too”

You raise your brow at that, smirking at him before turning towards the door and swaying your hips on your way out.

“Do I?”

Michael almost follows you out.

—----------------------------------------------

You look at the big clock at the center of his mansion. 10 pm. Maybe Michael won, after all.

You’re impressed with Michael’s strength of will, but most of all,  you wonder if you’ve gone too far with the bed. I mean, truly, you missed him too, and the day was miserable. You don’t even know where he is now, but guess you should probably head home.

As you walk into his room, you find him asleep on his big bed. He looks agitated even in his sleep, and you decide to wake him up. You voice his name out loud.

Before you can touch him, his eyes flutter open and he looks at you like you’re the anchor to his reality. He sits up slowly, sleepily rubs his eyes and looks around at the dark window before asking. He looks exhausted, worn out in a way that goes beyond sleep.

“What time is it?”

“A little past ten, Mikey. I think I’ll head home.”

The sleepy bubble he was in pops at your words and he sits straighter, his body now turned towards you. His curls were flattened from sleep, his sweatshirt sleeves pulled over his hands. He looked smaller somehow.

“What? Why?”

You let out a saddened laugh and sit on the edge of his bed, keeping distance from him. He wants to ask why, but the memories from the day come surging back in and he sighs. The bet.

“Well, I’m getting sleepy and there’s nothing much I can do here since we’re not really spending time together.”

He frowns again, all the pent up frustration from the day surging through his body and he feels like he might start crying any time soon. What was he even thinking? He’s miserable, and his stubbornness has done nothing but make the entire day uncomfortable for the both of you.

“You don’t have to go.”

“Michael, it’s late.”

“You could stay.”

“For what?”

He missed your touch, missed your presence, missed your smile. Missed littering kisses along your skin and watching you squirm, missed having you kiss him senseless and then cup his heated cheeks.

You were here with him all day, home with him, but it was as if you weren’t. All because of this stupid bet.

His hand reaches out to yours over the comforter, settling it between the two of you, untouched, waiting for you.

You glance at his hand, at him, before turning your gaze in the opposite direction, your hand retracting with you.

That’s what makes him snap.

“I’m sorry.”

You abruptly turn your head towards him, surprised at his words and the heaviness he carried with them.

“Michael?”

He sniffles and quickly rubs his nose, and that’s when you notice the tears running down his face. Oh no no no.

“This bet’s so stupid…”

“Oh, Michael, baby…”

Without thinking about it, you cross the distance between you two and slot your body against his as you take him into your embrace.

He tries to stop the tears from escaping his bloodshot eyes, but the moment his skin meets yours a muffled whimper escapes him. His head settles against the crook of your neck, his arms circling your waist and slightly lifting you up, urging you to straddle his thighs.

“I don’t care about the bet anymore” his voice is weak, muffled against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I thought it would be easy” he chokes up on his words, his voice cracking as he finishes his sentence. “I don’t like going a day without you.”

One of your hands slips into his curls as the other rubs slow circles into his back. Michael practically melts against you, burying his face deeper into your neck as though he’s trying to make up for every second spent apart from you.

“It’s okay angel face” you whisper.

He sniffles again, and his grip tightens against you.

"No, it's not."

A watery laugh escapes you. Your poor baby, you thought.

"No?"

He shakes his head. "I hated it," he gets his head out of your neck for the first time since he cozied up against you, his doe eyes shining with such reverence your stomach curled. "I hated all of it."

You press a kiss to his wet cheek.

“I know” then another, right below his left eye “baby had a rough day huh?”

He nods, unable to speak again, not when the moment seemed so fragile. The sight is so endearing you almost laugh.

Instead, your hands come to cup his face, wiping away at his tears before your lips settle ever so gently on his. His eyes flutter shut, a pathetic whimper escaping him and landing on your lips: you could almost taste it. 

The kiss is tooth-rootingly sweet for a few seconds, chaste at first, his lips sliding against your own in the midst of popcorn like pecks. But Michael surprises you when he probes his tongue tentatively in between your lips, and you gasp. He takes the occasion, fully emerging his tongue in your mouth while letting out a content sigh.

He kisses you wet and slightly messy, his movements growing erratic, his hips accidentally bucking up against yours. At that, you break the kiss, and his lips follow in an attempt to regain contact with your own.

"You know," you murmurs, thumb stroking his cheek, "I think it's safe to say you lost."

Michael huffs a laugh, his cheeks red.

"I know. That’s horrible."

"No, it’s good."

His brows lift, confusion painting his face.

"Good?"

You smile again, more mischievous this time. One of your hands settles on his shoulder, and the other one tug lightly at the base of his hair.

"Because winners don't get consolation prizes."

The realization dawns on him immediately, and an impromptu moan, louder than he anticipated, crosses the barrier of his lips. 

"Consolation prize?"

You hum again, taking notice of his hands sliding under your top. You grab one of them, stopping him in his tracks.

“Only if you’re good for mommy”

His eyes widened at the term, his cock throbbing against his briefs. He sits there, stunned and wholeheartedly enamored, silent.

Your head tilts right as you look at him with expectation. “We clear baby?”

“Yes” he nods again, eager.

You tut, shaking your head in faux disappointment.

“Yes who?”

The words are tentative when he speaks them “...yes mommy.”

Excitement fills your eyes at that, and you detach from him.“Good boy.” Your hand settles on his chest, pushing delicately “Now lay down for me, okay?”

His eyes never leaving yours, he agrees “yes mommy.”

Your mind runs through all the things you could do to him in that very moment, but you settle on what seems the most logical right then and there. Your hands find the buckle of his jeans, and you undo it with practiced ease.

Michael watches you as best he can, unable to keep his eyes off you. Your touch on his fervent skin feels unreal after the hours he spent without it, and he obliges and when hurriedly commanded he takes his shirt off.

He observes as you take his pants all the way down, his boxers following. He’s tempted to rest on his elbow for a better show, but is he even allowed to? The last thing he wants is to upset his mommy–

A loud moan breaks through his contemplation.

“M-mommy…oh” his eyes dance between your naked breasts and your hand slowly stroking his shaft.

You hum in answer, though you don’t really expect one from him at this moment. You watch as he fights the instinct to roll his eyes to the back of his head, wanting to watch every second, every single one of your movements.

You accelerate the movement of your hand, slowing down every time Michael’s moans increase in pitch and you feel like he might cum. You wanted this to last.

« Mommy, mommy please…let me— » his hips buck up, his thighs clenching

« No. Not yet. »

« But—»

« No buts. »

He feels his body heating up all over, his hands reaching for the sheets and holding onto them for dear life when you wrap your lips around his tip.

You watch as he struggles to stay still, his chest heaving rapidly as you take him deeper into your mouth. When you hollow your cheeks to great suction, he almost screams in warning.

« No! I-if you do that, I’m » his words get interrupted any another unstoppable manifestation of his desire « I’ll cum, don’t wanna cum like that, mommy please » he takes a deep breath, forcing the last words out of his mouth « wanna cum inside ya’ »

You sit straighter, your lips leaving his shaft with a pop, before admiring him tenderly, your hand still stroking him.

« Wanna cum inside baby? »

He gives you three curt nods, vision blurry and chest flushed.

You shrug, gaining indifference before muttering a small okay. You work your way around his body, taking your clothes off in the midst of your actions, putting one foot on each side of his hips before crouching down centimeters away from his leaky cock.

His cock twitches as you grab it again, teasing it against your entrance, sliding the member between your slick folds. Michael’s eyes follow his mauve tip as it nudges your clit and you let out a tiny whimper. He loves it, but he would love it more if you just sank onto him. But given how bad he had been today, he would be grateful if you made yourself come from the movement of your heat against his dick alone.

It’s hard for you to keep your composure when his hand reaches for your hips, and despite his pent up need settle gently on them, his grip never hard, never hurting.

His lashes seem to have grown in size, emphasized by the tears that were coasting his waterline moments ago, and when you swipe his member close to your entrance for the third time, he thrusts. The tip of his member enters you, but you take it out almost instantly.

The moan that ensues sounds weird to his ears: full of pleasure and mixed with feigned incredulity as he looks into your eyes, seemingly communicating the words I didn’t do it on purpose mommy. He absolutely did.

“Look at how needy you are” you punctuate your words by once again letting just the tip of his cock inside before retracting, and this time he doesn’t object.

“Yes, yes mommy, so needy fr’you. Please, please just put it in.”

“But I did baby” you repeat the motion “just the tip we said”.

He whines again, crystal tears shining in his wide eyes.

“No, no the tip’s not enough. Mommy please, I'll be good, so so good just–” he chokes up on his words when sink a little deeper on his shaft, retracting again, and he almost shakes with need. He feels like he might cum just from this, but what a waste would it be.

“Yeah? Will you be good from now on? Stop being so stubborn?”

He nods frantically, his cheeks warm and wet, his curls sticking to his forehead. “Yes, I'll always listen to you. Please just  please”

You finally decide to alleviate his pain, sinking fully onto him, inch by inch, his engorged cock squeezing into your tight cunt. His head rolls back, unable to look at you in fear he might go feral.

Once settled, you start moving immediately in an up and down motion despite the discomfort. You bounce on his cock with a maintained rhythm, chasing your high sure, but his first and foremost.

He feels it, knows that he won’t last long enough for you to squeeze his cock in your release, and an apology is already forming on the tip of his tongue as he thrusts with newfound speed into your warm pussy. He feels his undoing creep up his spine when your tongue curls against his ear, your warm breath thrilling him to his core.

Then he cums. His entire body spams with the pleasure overtaking it, chants of your name filling the room alongside his moans. He has no time for regret as your rhythm changes, your hips now grinding against his own as he pumps his seed deep into you.

He comes down from his high, and you’re still going, the friction of his pubic bone against your clit and the compelling fullness of his member inside you pushing you closer and closer to your climax. Michael twitches and moans in overstimulation, but ultimately doesn’t stop anything. He could if he wanted to, he knows the safe word, but he finds a twisted pleasure in seeing you use him for your own release.

When you finally cum, it’s in all your glory, and Michael is mesmerized as he watches your head tilt back and your back arch. He waits until you come down and slouch yourself against his chest, his hands coming up to your back and rubbing slow circles to help you ride the wave. He’s still inside you, his member still hard or made hard anew at the sight of you, he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to admit to any of the options.

But in your blissed out state you still take notice, and look into his eyes, your nose and his touching. You giggle a bit and ask in a soft, admiring tone.

« Baby’s still needy? »

He smiles at you, and can’t remember why he was so against you calling him needy in the first place when he is, and will keep on being needy if it means you’ll keep doting on him just like this.

It wasn’t even noticeable at first. Well, not really, until you connected every small instance like one huge puzzle. A particularly suggestive flutter of his eyelashes, a nearly crimson blush on his cheeks whenever you praised him for anything. Then, there was that one time when you called yourself ‘mommy’ as a joke.

You’d just arrived home from your 4-month anniversary dinner date. Your feet were aching; clad in a pair of deep red 8-inch pumps that Michael practically begged you to wear. “I think it’s sexy that you’re taller than me in those heels. Your legs look extra long and beautiful. Please m-, baby? Please, wear them.” That just about undid you.

You’d started regretting letting him sway you like that, though, because you swore that with every step, you could feel a new callous forming on your pinky toe.

“Come help mommy take these things off, baby.” It was said so casually, because it was. Yet, his reaction had you thinking you’d said something offensive. He’d just finished taking off his own loafers, one knee on the floor. He nearly toppled all the way over, and he looked up at you with this almost pained expression. You could’ve sworn you saw tears welling up in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so direct. It’s probably the wine…I’ll take them off mys–” He’d waved off your thought with his left hand, cleared his throat, and mumbled something along the lines of “…seriously driving me insane” under his breath, but it sounded lighthearted enough for you not to question him further. The two of you had your best sex yet that night.

Last week, though? It got to a point where Michael damn near made you lose your mind. You put on a pair of jeans that were slightly too long, and you didn’t have time to get them hemmed, so you asked your boyfriend to cuff the bottoms for you, playfully pretending to press your stiletto onto his chest while he knelt down.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded earnestly. He looked up at you while he said it, eyes glazed over with sparkles and something else you couldn’t quite place. There was a faint, crooked smile playing on his lips. One that read: I’m right where I want to be. He clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head like he was in the presence of royalty, then continued on with the task.

Really, it was a very quick exchange. Almost even casual; you just so happened to remember every aspect of it because it ruined you and your panties for the next two days.

That’s what’d been on your mind all afternoon. The two of you decided to spend your 6-month anniversary at a beachfront resort. Michael rented the whole thing out nearly two months in advance, your display of subtle dominance on your 4-month anniversary influencing the idea. He had a plan, and all he needed to do was gather up the confidence to act upon it.

You two took a series of photos on the digital camera he gifted you, involving various activities; a photo of you eating the breakfast he cooked the two of you in your suite’s kitchen, one of him almost missing his step on the jetski he was gonna race you on…One of you towering above him as he adjusted the delicate golden anklet he gave you the day prior, the cursive M glinting in the sunlight. He coughed hysterically to cover up the sound of its shudder, internally chastising himself for forgetting to turn off the sound in its settings.

When you two got home, he seemed overly eager about the evening, his attitude rubbing off on you. The both of you were a giggling mess, and you were completely sober. Just high off of the presence of the other.

The two of you had dinner reservations at 6:30pm, so you decided to shower together to ‘save water’ and time. Michael basically did the showering for the both of you though, making sure to do every step like you would. You’ve showered together enough for him to know your whole routine, and it made your heart swell with warmth, and your thighs unnoticeably squeeze together with want. He even rinsed and dried the both of you, making sure you didn’t lift your pretty fingers to do anything but grip onto his shoulders for balance.

It made you insatiable.

While you put on the finishing touches of your makeup, Michael approached you with a pleading look settled onto his face.

“Does this shirt look weird untucked? Should I button it up some more?”

You turned around, your unset makeup almost plastering onto his black button up. He looked delicious. Your mouth actually got watery at the sight right in front of you. You gulped down your lust, and met his eyes.

“Michael, you look beautiful. Leave it untucked and unbuttoned just like that. Wow.”

He ducked his head slightly, a faint blush crawling up his neck, as he let out a nervous chuckle. For a man so gorgeous, you’d think he’d be used to compliments from his own girlfriend by now.

“Y-you sure? Tonight’s important. I wanna look like we belong together. Like I belong with you.”

It took everything in you not to ruin your dinner plans and prove it to him right there, your hands fighting the urge to push him onto the bed and show him just how pretty you thought he was.

You cleared your throat and answered with a joking, “Michael, I’d swear you have a praise kink or something, because there’s no way you don’t see just how tasty you look right now.”

You turned back to the mirror, powdering up your face and putting on the remainder of your lip combo.

You didn’t notice just how badly Michael was holding it together from that point forward.

The two of you played the rest of the night cool, though. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for Michael fighting off his neediness when you ordered for him because you noticed him get shy, and when you wiped enchilada sauce off of his face, calling him your ‘clumsy baby.’ Or, the instance where you almost dragged him to the bathroom when you asked if he wanted dessert, and looked at you all lovesick with a, “Yes, please.”

He aggressively adjusted his black jeans, not so subtly, after you told him to pick up the napkin he (purposely) dropped. He felt like he was drunk. His nerves and his body were on fire. He started to down the bottle of wine he purchased for the two of you, for liquid courage. You quickly followed suit. It did nothing to help either of your states.

On the walk back to your suite, Michael’s demeanor nearly killed your buzz. He looked terrified.

“Mikey, baby. What’s wrong?” you asked, stepping in front of him and tilting his head up by his chin so he’d look you in your eyes. The heels you wore had you standing taller than him, and, unbeknownst to you, that only made it worse.

“It’s nothin, baby.” he responded, but his voice wasn’t matching his actions.

“Michael, come on, it’s me. What’s going o-”

“I said it’s nothin’,” he cut you off sharply. His voice was loud- too loud- and he wouldn’t look you in the eyes. He grabbed ahold of the hand that you had underneath his chin, and rushed the two of you the rest of the way to the hotel.

You were furious. Concerned by his terror-stricken face, mostly. But, his sharpness with you stirred something inside that you thought you’d buried, only fueled by the ache in your feet from nearly running in stilettos.

As you made it to your room, you pushed past his usually taller frame, and sat down onto the nearest plush chair, bending over to undo the straps of your pumps. You heard the door close with a click and looked up to see Michael rushing his way towards you, trying to stop you from removing them yourself. The two of you had your hands tangled in a mess; his fingers trying to gently push yours off, and yours almost aggressively shoving his.

“Enough, Michael.”

He gulped loudly, seeming almost embarrassed to look at you.

That was almost enough to ease the fire on your lips. Almost.

“Look at me while I’m speaking to you. What happened, and why are you acting so weird towards me?” Your voice quivered on the latter half of your question, insecurity starting to creep its way through your tone. Your cleared your throat and waited for him to speak.

He sighed visibly at the beginning of your monologue. The words affecting him in a way you couldn’t understand.

He continued removing your shoes as he answered, needing something to keep his eyes away from yours, due to the vulnerable truth behind his actions.

“I…” he cleared his throat. “I want you to control me.”

That was not what you were expecting. You waited, scared that you’d misinterpreted the intentions behind his words, hoping he’d expand on it further. By this point, both of your shoes were off, and he was still kneeling in front of your legs, both of his hands opting to massage on one of your aching feet. He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Mike…?” you asked. Your voice slightly deepened with a lust you were fighting so hard to control. You ran your fingers through his hair softly, eliciting a soft whine from his throat. You used the hand in his hair to gently guide his face up to yours. He obeyed your silent command as soon as you slightly tugged, actions already proving that he meant what you thought he did. Your stomach did a flip. The alcohol in your system was making you extremely sensitive to your emotions, everything heightened. Apparently, Michael was going through the same.

“I-I mean. Well look at you…Your legs are so long, ‘n you take care of me so good. You’re so good at telling people what to do and I always wish it was me on the other end of that. I- I think about you doing things to me. Things that I can’t control. I sometimes try ‘n push your buttons just so you can finally snap at me, but you’re so patient, even though your energy is kinda scary, and that somehow drives me even crazier.” The alcohol had him saying quite literally every word that came into his brain. He’d managed to fully massage all the tension from your feet during the rambling. He gave them each a quick peck and set them down gently onto the plush carpet beneath you. Then he sat up on his knees, properly. Both of his hands were placed on his lap like he was preparing for prayer.

“Please, baby. I can’t take it anymore. I want you to use me and control me and take everything I have. I want you to be mean to me and I want you to punish me for being rude earlier. Put me in my place, please. Please, pleasepleaseplease. It’s embarrassing, but I really do want this.” He added the last part after he noticed you weren’t responding, embarrassment and alcohol settling into his bones. He started sniffling, his eyes rimming with tears.

You didn’t say a word. Silently, you stood up, gripping Michael by the collar, dragging his frame up with yours, and then crashed your lips into his. He whimpered loudly. The sound shred the last bit of sanity you had left. The two of you tumbled through the doors that led to your room, his socks being kicked off and your shawl strewn onto the floor on the way there.

You turned him around and shoved him onto the bed forcefully. Michael looked up at you like you held the universe up just for him. Your hands made their way to his shirt first. The opened buttons were driving you crazy all day. You started unbuttoning, but grew impatient, opting to just aggressively pull them apart instead, buttons popping off and flying onto the floor in the act.

Michael was a whimpering mess beneath you, and you hadn’t even touched him properly. His hands were at his sides and his body was rigid. He hadn’t even tried touching you.

“Mikey, baby. You know you can touch me, right?”

“I just wanted your permission first ma- ahem. Baby.”

“What was that?” you questioned, catching his slip-up.

“Nothin’,” Mike said, clearly embarrassed. He tried kissing you after to cover it up, but the alcohol in your system made you not care. You pushed his torso back down onto the bed.

“Don’t lie to me, Michael. I can stop all this right now,” you said sternly.

“I..Uhm. It’s just.. sometimes I kinda wanna call you..mommy…?” He phrased it like a question.

That’s how you ended up the position the two of you were in right now. Him with his head propped up on the spare pillows he requested earlier, and your body propped up on his face, straddling it. Michael was going dumb beneath you, fully letting your core and the alcohol in his veins consume him.

“Mmm, Mikey. I didn’t know you had this in you,” you say with surprise laced into your voice. And it’s true. The two of you had sex a few times, but he usually seemed okay with taking over for you. Only now did you realize that it was more of him servicing you than taking control.

“I’ve always had it in me, m- ah baby,” he says, slightly pushing his head further into the pillow so he can speak.

You grab one of his nipples and pinch it harshly.

“Did I say you could stop? Don’t think I forgot about your little attitude earlier.”

That only turns him on further though, his hips jutting into the air immediately at the rough contact.

“N-no. I’m sor- ah- sorry baby. You’re right. I’ve been s-so bad,” his voice melting into a needy whine on the last word.

“Yeah, so bad. I- mmm- s-should teach you a lesson, shouldn’t I?”

“P-please. Please do whatever you want to me. I’ll make it up to y…ou, mmm.”

In one swift movement, you climb off of his face, and settle your soaking core onto his bare chest. You take your right hand and place it into his neck with no pressure- yet.

“How sorry are you?” you question, his fucked out face only fueling your actions.

“Really sorry. Sorrier than I can even put into words,” he jumbled out. Not good enough. You give him a slight slap on the face, and then grip into his neck with more fervor. He moans like it’s his first time being touched sexually.

“That’s it? You’re sooo sorry you can’t even say it?” you scoff at him, playing up your anger just to see him fold beneath your grasp. You begin grinding down hard onto his chest, reveling in this.

“N-no! I mean, yes, b-but, fuck keep using me like that please. I just, I have to show you. Let me show you?” he says, still trying to work your pussy between each word.

“Hmm, go ahead then,” you respond almost immediately, intrigued by his request.

He tenderly grabs onto your thighs and lifts your body up off of his chest, and places you next to him, sliding from the bed in the same movement. Then, he eagerly walks to the foot of the bed and sinks onto his knees, beckoning you toward him with two of his fingers, his twinkling eyes never leaving yours.

“Join me, please?” he asks, voice laced with desire.

You seductively crawl toward him, his body looking meek in this position. You can feel your core drip more at the sight of him. He uncrosses your legs for you, making sure to do all of the work. He’s gonna prove to you just how sorry he is for not being a good boy.

He takes one of your legs and starts to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to every inch of it; from the tips of your toes, to the backs of your knees. His eyes never leave yours. He’s waiting for some sign of approval, a praise, anything that told him he was making up for it, but you sat there in shock, staring at the submissive man beneath you. You were almost too scared to move, afraid that any action or sound would break the spell.

Then he starts to speak. “You’re so beautiful. Your body’s like a painting that only Michelangelo himself could’ve imagined. How could I have been so stupid? You deserve everything. I’m gonna give you everything,” he says between kisses.

“This?” he says, kissing your inner thigh, “I don’t even deserve it. I’m lucky to be able to touch you like this. Lucky ta even see you like this.”

He grabs onto your hips, and looks up at you, pleading.

“M gonna make you feel so good. I promise.”

Michael kisses up the soft skin of your stomach, making sure to save what’s beneath it for last. Then, he makes it to your breasts, and drool dribbles out of his mouth as he speaks.

“I don’t even deserve these,” he says, almost to himself with a sigh. He peppers kisses to the undersides of them, teasing his way up to your erect nipples. Then, he takes one into his mouth, suckling like a man starved. You nearly scream from pleasure at the contact, causing Michael to look up with worry, only for him to see your blissed expression. He grabs your other nipple and rolls it between his fingers, still holding eye contact with you.

“F-fuck Michael, that’s it baby. Just like that.”

He switches his ministrations to your next nipple, replacing his mouth with his hand, and his hand with his mouth. He starts whimpering louder and louder with each gasp you take, your arousal fueling his tenfold. You feel high. You try clamping your legs together, but his lanky body is blocking you from doing so, eliciting a whine from your lips. He notices this. He notices everything. He removes the hand from your nipple and immediately starts rubbing languid, deep circles on it. You let out a loud moan straight from your diaphragm, internally thanking Michael for renting the whole resort out for the two of you.

Michael’s lips detach from your tit with a pop. “You like this?” he questions genuinely, wanting to be good for you.

“Mike- fuck- yes! L-love it! So good!” You can barely even think properly, your mind only focused on how his long fingers work your clit with ease.

“Mmm,” he responds, not fully satisfied with himself. He doesn’t want you to love it. He wants you to crave it.

He gets up and straddles your waist, fingers still slowly rubbing your clit, searching your neck for its sweet spot with his lips. When you buck your core into his hand at a particular area, he starts licking and biting on it inhaling the perfume on your neck in the process.

“You-ngh. You smell so sweet. Did you wear my favorite perfume for me?” he asks, a wave of gratitude crashing onto him.

“Y-yes mike. Come on- more. I need more. Give me more.” You’re desperate now. You have half a mind not to start fucking yourself on his fingers right there, but he’s one step ahead.

His fingers slide straight into your pussy, and your walls clenched around them immediately, not expecting the intrusion so suddenly. Your back arched up off the bed, lifting both of you in the process.

“M sorry. I’m gonna get you there baby. I promise.” Without another word, he carefully slides back down your frame, and starts suckling at your clit like he’s tasting ice cream for the first time ever, his fingers still curling and pumping in and out of you. Your eyes start to water.

“Ohhhh my- fuuuuuck. Mikeyyy, baby mmm. S-shit. I feel sososo good. So good. You’re so good to me baby. My perfect- ah. My perfect angel. S-so pretty on your knees for me.” You smile at him weakly and squeeze his head in between your thighs forcefully, grinding yourself into his mouth and nose. The dichotomy is giving him whiplash.

The praise that you give Michael is driving him halfway insane. He moans erotically into your squelching pussy, pumping his fingers into you faster and harsher, squeezing his thighs together for his own relief. The sight of you using him like this is making his brain go numb, the only thing on his mind is making up for his behavior earlier. Making sure you’re feeling good.

Your legs start to shake uncontrollably now, a telltale sign of your orgasm approaching.

This fuels Michael further.

“Please cum on my face. I wanna taste it, ma.”

You almost do it on the spot, but you have other plans. You lightly kick his face from between your legs and his mouth detaches from your pussy loudly. He looks at you confused, his face glistening with your arousal.

“I’m sorry. Did I do something wro-” You interrupt him by slamming your lips onto his, the force of it pushing his torso onto the floor. You moan at the taste of yourself on his mouth, your tongue searching for his in the process. You break the kiss and lean into his ear with a seductive whisper. “I want to fuck you, Michael.”

His entire body goes rigid and he gasps loudly. You palm him through his jeans, feeling his dick straining against the black fabric. He sucks in a sharp breath, wanting so desperately for more friction, while simultaneously wanting to show you he can be good.

“Ohhh, were you this hard all this time, baby?” you coo at him, loving how the condescending tone in your words feels.

“A-ah yes. I just wanted you to feel good,” he replies between choked breaths, seemingly trying not to pass out. He loves how dumb you’re making him feel.

“Aww my good boy, you did so well for me. I think it’s time for us to both feel good together, hmm?” you ask him, eager for his response. He looks so pretty like this, and his whimpers sound even prettier.

“O-only if that’s what you want. Ngh- everything’s your choice. Everything, everything,” he slurs out, already losing his grasp on reality due to the way you’re speaking to him and the way you rub hungrily against his clothed erection.

You unzip his jeans faster than he can even process and pulled them down off his legs along with his boxers, his leaking erection slapping against his abdomen harshly.

“Look at me,” you command him. He obeys without a second thought.

You take your pretty manicured hands and begin to jerk him off slowly, enjoying the way he tries not to grind up into your hands because he’s your good boy.

You speed up your actions faster, faster, faster, until you see Michael nearing his climax. He’s warning you over and over that he’s gonna cum, not wanting to before you do. Not after his behavior today. He didn’t deserve it, and you agree.

“Baby, pleeeeease, ‘m so close. Can’t do it. You have ta first. Iss too good ‘n i can’t hold it,” he whines, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. You kiss them away and go faster, ignoring his cries. The tears only turned you on further.

“F-FUCK! BABY I’M GONN-” You stop moving your hand entirely, and squeeze down on his dick hard.

“Wh-wha..” Michael trails off, not knowing how to speak anymore.

“Thank you,” he says, looking up at you with tear-filled eyes, chest heaving. He knew better than to complain- you touching him at all was enough.

You lean up to give him a quick kiss, before lining his dick up with your entrance and sinking down onto it. The stretch was enough to make your legs shake and almost make you fall over. You can’t take it all at once, opting to go slowly, grinding yourself against it in the meantime.

“Oh my GOD,” Michael cries out, propping himself up on his elbows so he can look at you. You look like an answered prayer.

“Mikey, you’re too big,” you whine out, drawling the last word out on purpose.

“I’m sor-ry,” he sincerely apologizes. It would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so turned on by his facial expression. You sink the rest of the way down, to impatient to care about the burn. You grip onto his neck for support and start riding him slowly, your thighs burning with pain and pleasure. Michael moans at the feeling of your delicate fingers around his neck again and he loses his filter completely.

“Please choke me again. Hard. Control when I can breathe,” he begs you. You do just that and start bouncing against his length, the begging and whimpering from your boyfriend turning you on more than you’ve ever been.

His eyes start to roll back, and you loosen your grip so that he can gasp for air, his lungs hungrily swallowing the oxygen creeping in. He starts rolling his hips up into yours, knowing riding isn’t easy for women. Always the gentleman, even when you’re fucking his brains out. He looks into your eyes, grabs your free hand and starts sucking on your fingers, muffling his moans with them from embarrassment. You don’t know whether to be angry that he won’t let you hear them, or turned on from the sight, so you grind and choke him harder.

His eyes fog over and he drools onto his chest, arcing his back up to meet all of your grinds. You loosen your grip once again.

“Let me hear your pretty voice, baby,” you drawl at him, removing your fingers from his mouth and using them to playwith your nipple. That basically does it for him.

“Baaaaaaby. Oh my god I-I can’t even think. You’re s-so good to me and- YEAH keep touching yourself like that please. You’re so beauti-f-ful. I’m never letting you go. You’re t-too perfect iss driving me crazy. Plea-”you choke him again- “Mmmfuck. Please cum on me. Please use my body to cum.”

“Then fuck me like you want it, Mike,” you order, dragging your fingers down from his neck, using your nails to scratch all the way down to his chest.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He flips you over and pins you beneath him, and begins thrusting into you the exact way he knows you like it, totally focusing on your pleasure.

“Michael! Baby fuckkkkkk you…feel sooo good. Don’t stop!”

“I won’t, baby.” He presses a hand onto your stomach for comfort, but what he felt flipped a switch in him. He looked down and saw himself moving inside of your belly.

“Oh my god…” he gasped out, making you look at him with concern. “B-baby. I can see myself inside of you,” he says, genuinely surprised.

“It’s ‘cause you’re so big,” you say, pouting at him. “G-go ahead, baby. Fuck me until m’ cervix is shaped like your dick.” He groaned at the filth in your words, doing just as you said. His body began to shake with pleasure. He feels so good, too good. Like something only his imagination could come up with. He starts drooling again.

The sight above you is getting you so close to your release. You reach your hand down to your clit and started playing with it, making sure to tilt Michael’s face down to watch before you do so. You want to put on a show for him. It is your anniversary, after all.

“M gonna cum for you Mikey. ‘M gonna make a mess of that pretty dick of yours,” you say nastily. You can feel the knot in your stomach start to tighten more and more.

“Y-Yes! Please cum all over me. Please turn me into a mess,” he begs, and that did it. Your entire body locks up and your vision turns blurry.

“Michael FUCK!” you scream- genuinely scream- out in pleasure. You grip onto his shoulders with all the force you could muster, mumbling out praises of “You’re so pretty” and “Did so good” until your lips fall numb. He rides you through the whole thing, legs shaking and forehead dripping with sweat.

“C-can I please cum? It hurts…” You look at him with surprise, not realizing he was still going for you, and it almost does enough for you to want a round two.

“Oh, Michael. You’re so obedient. I didn’t realize you were still going, love. Cum inside me, baby. Fill me up.”

He whimpers and cums on command, his body stilling and his toes curling up in pleasure. His eyes roll so far back into his head that you can’t even see his irises anymore.

“Thank you, thank you, thank y- ahh, thank you. ‘M so so-ahhhgghh, so sorry. I’ll be good forever ‘m sorry my pretty girl.”

His sweaty body collapses onto yours, and you two lay there for a while, his dick still inside of you, fully softened up.

After at least ten minutes of this, Michael speaks.

“So…Can we do this again?” he asks hesitantly.

“Michael,” you start, “I don’t think I can ever go back. Do you know how sexy you are when you’re submissive?” Your thighs start to clench again at the thought of what you two got up to tonight.

“O-oh. Really? It wasn’t too much?” he asks shyly as he rolls off of your body.

“Really. You should’ve said something sooner, angel face. I prefer being dominant,” you reveal, although you’re sure it was obvious.

“I was just shy, is all. But you? I don’t think- no, I know I’ve never seen anything or anyone as sexy as you were tonight. I feel like I died from bliss and met God. Truly, you were heavenly. I didn’t want any of it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to…We still have a whole weekend to spend here,” you offer, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

“I’m gonna go get our stuff ready for a bath,” you say. “Tidy up the room for when we’re back, yeah?”

“I’ll do anything for you,” Michael says, clearly still pussy drunk. He grabs your hand before you head to the bathroom.

“I love you. I’m not just saying that because of what we did tonight, you know that. But I love you. Thank you for being the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ll cherish you for all of my days, and even afterwards, if I can.“ He gives you a brief, yet passionate kiss on the lips. “I’ll be as quick as possible. Happy anniversary, pretty girl.”

It starts the way it always does with him on his knees.

He's already hard before he even touches you, his cock straining against his jeans as he presses his face into the inside of your thigh. He breathes you in, deep and slow, like a man taking his first lungful of air. His doe eyes are half lidded, dark and glassy, his lips parted. He's not begging yet. Not out loud. But the way his fingers tremble against your skin says everything.

"Please," he finally breathes, voice hoarse. "Please, baby. Let me taste you. Just a little. Just—" He kisses the crease where your thigh meets your hip, tongue darting out to taste salt and warmth. "I need it. I need it."

You barely nod before he's burying his face between your legs.

Michael doesn't start slow. There's no teasing, no gentle buildup. He goes straight for your clit with the flat of his tongue, laving it in long, broad strokes that make your hips jerk. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open for him like you're a meal he's been starved for. And he has been. Every hour away from you is an hour of withdrawal, of craving, of counting down until he can have this again.

He moans against you, the vibration sending a jolt straight to your core. His tongue flicks faster, circles, presses flat, then flicks again. He's sloppy. Desperate. There's no technique to it just pure, unadulterated hunger. Saliva and your wetness mix together, dripping down his chin, and he doesn't wipe it away. He wears it like a badge of honor.

"Fuck," he mutters against your cunt, the word muffled by your flesh. "Fuck, you taste so fucking good. Sweet. So sweet. I could—" He stops talking because his mouth is too busy, too full of you.

He loses track of time down there. Minutes blur into hours. His jaw aches, his tongue cramps, but he doesn't stop. Can't stop. Every time you try to shift away, oversensitive and trembling, he tightens his grip on your hips and pulls you back. His nose presses into your pubic bone, his lips sealed around your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, then letting go only to dive back in.

When you're in bed, he crawls under the covers without a word. You feel his hot breath against your inner thigh before his mouth finds you, half-asleep and warm. He nuzzles into your cunt like a man seeking comfort, lapping lazily at your folds until you're wet and sighing in your sleep. He falls asleep that way sometimes his cheek pressed against your thigh, lips brushing your clit, breathing you in. He wakes up hard, aching, and immediately starts all over again, licking you awake.

During the day, it's worse.

He'll pull you into the studio under the pretense of needing your opinion on a new track. The door clicks shut, the blinds close, and suddenly he's on his knees again. He shoves a pillow under him not for his comfort, but to get the angle right. His chin tilts up, his tongue out, waiting. Begging with his eyes.

"Just a taste," he whispers. "I'm stuck. I can't write. I can't think. I need—" He presses his forehead to your thigh, breathing hard. "I need your pussy, baby. She's my muse. She's the only thing that makes the words come."

And you let him. Because it's true. The moment his mouth finds you, the tension in his shoulders melts. His hands roam your ass, squeeze, spread, pull you closer. His tongue works you until you're gasping, your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips grinding against his face. He moans with every flick, every suck, every time your cunt clenches around nothing because his tongue is right there, pressing into your entrance, tasting your cream.

He comes in his pants without realizing it.

The first time it happens, he's so focused on your pleasure that he doesn't notice his own cock throbbing, pulsing, spilling into his jeans. The wet patch spreads warm against his thigh, and he only becomes aware of it when you're done, panting and limp, and he pulls back with a glistening chin. He looks down at himself, blinks, and then grins, sheepish, embarrassed, but also proud.

"Sorry," he mutters, but he's not sorry at all.

It becomes a pattern. Two pairs of jeans a week. Sometimes three. He starts buying cheap brands because he knows they'll be ruined. The laundry basket fills with stiff, stained denim, and he never complains. He just shuffles to the drawer, pulls out another pair, and gets back on his knees.

You have to push him away.

It's the only way it stops. When your clit is raw and swollen and every flick of his tongue makes you flinch, you press your palm against his forehead and shove. He resists at first, whining against your skin, trying to chase your taste as you pull back. "No," you say, breathless. "Michael. Stop."

And he does. But only because you said so. Only because your voice has that edge of finality that he can't ignore.

He sits back on his heels, chin wet, lips red and puffy, eyes glazed. His breathing is ragged, and there's a smear of your arousal across his cheek. He licks his lips slowly, savoring the last traces.

"Sorry," he says again, but his voice is thick. He's not sorry. He's already thinking about the next time, counting the hours until he can taste you again.

He crawls up the bed and curls against you, pressing his face into your neck. His hand is still wet, still slick with your juices, and he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean one by one. His eyes close. He's content. Sated. But only for now.

Because tomorrow morning, before the sun rises, he'll be between your thighs again. His tongue will find your clit before you're fully awake. His mouth will seal over you, and he'll hum in satisfaction, drinking you down like a man dying of thirst.

And he'll whisper, half to himself, half to you: "Not my fault you taste so sweet."

He says it like a prayer. Like a confession. Like the truest thing he's ever known.

it started with the late night snacks, you waking up to him sitting cross legged by the coffee table, halfway through a bowl of shin ramyun, a bluetooth mic warm in his palm with his voice dramatically belting out another pop song crackling through the speakers.

you would ask if he’s live, and he would shake his head, already offering you a spare bowl he made while you slept. you two would eat together, and he would force you to sing sometimes. your parts got edited out, of course, but he would keep those clips just for himself.

then it was the bikes. you already knew your boyfriend would be a problem after the first bike he got, but now he has four, maybe five; and it’s given you more mini heart attacks than you can count.

by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, you would sit and sip some warm cocoa, look out at the nice view like an old lady, try to finally find some reprieve from the constant headaches you get from this man.

he’s gone god knows where, said he was going to film again. you expected him to head to the store, maybe vlog a grocery run, or invade namjoon’s privacy again. what you did not expect was your boyfriend all but skidding down the street right below you, one hand on the handle, and the other steadying a camera in front of him, trying to get a good angle.

you weren’t sure whether to call the cops, your therapist, or his mother. eventually, you shut him down by ringing his phone, and he shut you up by making you squirt twice.

eventually, it trickled into the showers. him wet, hair messy and soaking, making weird faces, furrowing his brows, toothbrush wedged between lips as he stands there in all his half-naked glory. shorts on, of course, because he said his ass is too fat to be given out for free.

those specific scenes you would be bothered by, if he didn’t give you the vip exclusive cuts of him stroking his pretty wet cock after, creaming with your name bouncing off the bathroom walls.

“two more minutes,” you mumble over another layer of brown lip gloss, smacking your lips for the nth time, and you squint at your reflection. then reaching for your eyeliner pen again—“pretty girl, you said that seven minutes ago.” his voice rumbles from behind.

the whine that leaves you makes him whine an even higher, even whinier whine.

your boyfriend sits on his bed bare-chested, grey sweatpants, tattoos out and glowing in the warm light, hair perfectly tousled — the whole effortless pussy-popper-9000 look — phone already propped up with one of his ridiculously expensive black tripods.

there isn’t an ounce of annoyance in his eyes though; just warm, gooey pools of affection for you. you. you.

“c’mere. beautiful baby,” he resorts to making grabby hands at you, which you catch in the mirror of the vanity he put in his room just for you. he’s making gross kissy sounds, beckoning you over like he would his dog bam.

you roll your eyes, and yet, you’re already setting down the pen and making your way to him.

“look who it is!” he’s clapping now, of fucking course he is, beaming at you as you approach. his hands then start drumming over his thighs, like some entrance fanfare for a princess — which you absolutely are in his eyes.

his lip tucks under his teeth immediately, as soon as you make contact, your hand holding onto his shoulder for a brief second just to steady yourself, before settling down on his lap like he’d instructed. and he’s already excited.

jeongguk is warm, and his scent engulfs you like a hug, and it soothes your nerves, even for a moment. you’re soft in his hands, always so soft; and his arms find your middle — you both melt into each other instinctively.

you’re met with a 4k 60fps view of yourself and him, shot wide to capture the way your thighs spread over his, and the way his silhouette swallows yours.

his shoulders go on for days, and his milky skin contrasts beautifully with the black tank top you (barely) have on. he squeezes around your tummy, making both of you laugh like idiots.

you look good together, real good. you lean in slightly, turning your head and pursing your lips to examine your makeup, when your vision is soon obstructed by one large, tattooed hand reaching up and cupping both your cheeks.

he grabs your face, touch gentle but firm as he squeezes lightly, and from what you can see on the screen — god, he’s fucking delighted. “so so prettyyy. what a pretty girl, no?” he coos, eyes crinkling at the corners as he gives one of his eyebrow-smiles.

you’re seething, and also soaking, kinda. he doesn’t need to know that.

“you’re actually the worst ever,” you grunt, trying to sound mean but it’s muffled by the pout he’s forced you into. both your hands have to wrap around his wrist just to wrestle his stupidly strong, stupidly veiny hand off your face, which you manage to do, but it’s no use.

“yeah? you promise?” he’s fucking giggling, proud of it, proud of your little attempts to resist him because you both know you can’t.

his other hand reaches over to gently pat your cheek, before pinching it lovingly; which earns him another whine. and he just loves it. he adores it so much you can feel it right under your thigh. his cock is thrumming in his boxers, heart so full as he leans over to press a big, wet, smooch to your other cheek.

ugh. “just start the damn video.”

after a few more pokes to your face with some odd, boyish explosion sound effects, he finally concedes, hips shifting under you.

one arm — very obvious and very unnecessary — hooks around your chest, effectively grabbing and squeezing your tit as he moves you like he’s done it a hundred times before.

he has. and like a hundred times before, you cuss him out for it.

until his free hand moves, his finger pressing to his lips, which, unfortunately, shuts you up pretty quick.

his thumb hits the record button, and he’s shifting you back, though his grip doesn’t loosen, just slips down to your waist, where he pulls you even closer.

“today, i am joined by the scariest, sexiest, most murderous force of nature i know—” “aaand you are going to end up six feet under,” you’re already crossing your arms, eyes narrowing at him through the screen. his brows pinch, looking to the camera and his imaginary viewers, shrugging in a told you so kinda manner, even as his hands start massaging over your shoulders slowly.

“see, this recording is actually for my safety rather than my enjoyment.”

he props his chin over your shoulder, and his little quip is pathetic. he’s pathetic. but knowing jeongguk, he would own that title like a fuckin’ badge of honor, too. you let out a huff, relaxing into his touch as your eyes flutter shut.

but jeongguk doesn’t like that. he clicks his tongue, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, lips brushing your hair as he nudges you with his nose to look back at the camera. “c’mon. introduce yourself, mama?”

your head falls forward, a smile tugging on your lips as you avoid the camera. “hello, i’m y/n, this is my clingy pet dog. bye.”

your lack of enthusiasm makes him chuckle, breath hot against your skin. you are sooo stubborn and he just loves you like this. “damn right.” he growls right behind your ear, which is insane considering his eyes peek out from behind you, all wide and innocent.

even as he’s clearly ogling at your cleavage and your pretty face on the screen.

his hands move from your waist, sliding up higher, and you, begrudgingly, uncross your arms, earning you another gravelly ‘good girl’ and a wet kiss to your temple. he’s already cupping your breasts, squeezing and bouncing them for the camera, the creamy flesh ripples under his handling.

it’s embarrassing, your face flushing pink as he toys with your tits, and you’re just letting him, biting back whimpers and whines with every punishing squeeze. “mn, koo—”

one hand slides upward from your breast, lightly smacking your cheek again before settling around your throat. the suddenness making your breath hitch, eyes rolling back for a moment as you tried to steady yourself. a breathless huff of laughter leaves you, in another futile attempt to sound mean.

“freak..” you hiss.

he only grinned, a wicked, lopsided thing. "mhm? and what else?" he murmured, his voice a deep rasp.

without so much as a beat to let you respond, he catches your lower lip between his fingers and pushed his thumb past your teeth, filling your mouth and muffling your indignant protests into soft, wet sounds of submission.

rude.

jeongguk is having the time of his life, his hand a heavy weight on your neck, not to choke you, no; but anchor you to him.

he can do the choking later.

his gaze is doe-like and adoring, shimmering with pure, unadulterated joy; glowing with a soft, manic sort of adoration that makes your heart ache even as he's being a total menace.

using his firm grip, he moves your head to get a better look at you and fuck. “fuck, look at you. look at my girl.” a heavy throb pulses straight through his cock, it almost hurts. “you are so pretty.”

his tone is dripping with honey through gritted teeth, disgustingly, aggressively sweet even as his thumb is pressed deep into your mouth.

the thick, delicious intrusion forces you to suckle on it, glaring at him through lashes that were already growing damp. you’re trying to maintain some semblance of that pride, but to him you’re just cute. so fucking cute.

“today,” he starts and reaches down, his fingers hooking under the hem of your black tank top. he doesn't ask; he just peels the fabric upward, dragging the soft cotton over the curve of your stomach and up, up, until your breasts are bared to the cool air and his gaze.

and he gives you that look. that deeply terrifying look that always ends with you in a messy, sticky heap. it’s manic, it’s a hunger that borderlines on holy despite the mischief dancing in his eyes.

he is so, so incredibly gone for you.

he lets out another breathy, jagged laugh.

“we’re gonna see how long it takes to completely break you, aren't we?" he whispers, the challenge hanging in the air like a dare. "how long can i ruin my girl before i finally lose it?" his nose nuzzled back into your hair.

you can’t even process the sheer audacity of his words, you’re struggling to breathe around the pad of his digit when—

smack!

the sound of his palm hitting the underside of your breast is sharp and loud in the quiet room, the sting sending a delicious, jolting shock straight to your clit.

the sting is sharp, a sudden burst of heat that makes your toes curl and your eyes water, but he doesn't give you a second to recover. his expression tells you he’s enjoying your discomfort far too much. then another, smack, right to the other breast.

you protest around his finger, but his grip is so strong and his hand is so heavy.

he gives in another light smack, before grabbing it roughly and squeezing, sending you choking around a sob. “b-baby mmff, please— mmnnn!”

he watches the way your skin flushes, the way your nipple hardens into a tight, dark peak from the sudden sting, and he lets out a soft, triumphant giggle that is entirely too affectionate for the way he’s looking at you.

"hold the camera, baby," he commands, his voice a low, honeyed growl that leaves no room for argument.

he nods his head to the device, forcing you to reach out with a trembling hand to angle it the way he wants.

“that’s it, you listen so well f’me sweet girl,” he peppers kisses over your shoulder, “right on your pussy. show ‘em those cute little panties.”

you would roll your eyes, but you just obey, the hand in your throat and thumb in your mouth a constant reminder of who’s in charge right now. it’s shaky, but it gets the job done, the phone held down low to show off the pretty, expensive black lace that did very little to hide the wetness pooling on your lips.

“fuuuuck, look at that,” he breathes out, mouthing at the juncture of your neck as he stares down at the screen. “god, why are you so fuckin’ sexy, huh? so fuckin’ lucky.” as you struggle to maintain your hold on the camera, your knuckles turning white, you feel his hand leave your breast.

down your waist, down your navel, down the soft curve which he squeezes lovingly. down, down, down.

his fingers come into view on the camera, pressing two into the lace, watching, his jaw falling slack as your lips make a soft, filthy squelch. the dampness only spreads.

“ohhh fuck, sweet girl,” you both whine, like the sight itself is breaking you both.

his thumb presses harder into your mouth, a silent command to keep sucking, to keep staying quiet and good while he works. his hand is a hot, heavy intrusion between your thighs, his fingers sliding past the damp, silken folds of your heat to find the center of your ache.

the moment he touches you, the moment his fingertip brushes against your swollen clit you feel your entire body lurch. you’re trying so hard to keep the camera steady, to keep the frame focused, but as he begins to rub you with a slow, punishingly deliberate pressure, your hand begins to slip.

he sees it, of course; he sees everything.

“don’t let go, baby, come on. you can do it,” his fingers slow, circling aching little figures around your swollen clit, and you buck your hips in an attempt to meet his hand. “k-kooooo—mmmff,” his thumb is now pressing inside your cheek, stretching your lips open for the camera as your noises spill out. “come on, fix the camera. show ‘em how good my girl is, yeah?”

blinking back tears, your grip tightens around the tripod again, the material biting into your palm — and you almost fucking let go because he speeds up all of a sudden. “mnnn ohh— oh my god!”

having your lips pulled open, your spit dribbles down your chin and around his hand, and the disgusting, wet feeling only spurs him on, practically ripping the lace out the way as two thick fingers plunge into your pretty pussy, his thumb relentless against your clit.

“thaaat’s right, that’s my good girl,” he hisses, eyes narrowed and zoned right in on the way your velvety walls suck him in. so fucking needy.

you can only respond with throaty little mewls, trying to hide your face in his neck as he works you open up close and personal, all in high definition.

you feel so fucking exposed, so vulnerable, so disgusting — his hand around your throat tightens, making you gasp and choke for air. his other hand pulls out, and you find tears welling up in your eyes again, head jerking in betrayal, “y-you fucking—”

the slap is sharp, a stinging crack that echoes in the quiet room, and the heat of it goes straight to your tummy as you yelp.

your inner thigh is already flushed, the skin sensitive and tender, but the impact of his hand slick, hot, and heavy with your own sticky juices is enough to make your vision blur. the sensation of his wet palm meeting your skin is so visceral, so unapologetically messy, that a fresh sob hitches in your throat.

he slaps you again. and again, for good measure.

"look at the camera, sweet girl. please?" he coos, his voice a devastating contrast to the sting he just delivered. it’s so sweet, so honeyed and adoring, as if he hadn't just punished you for your momentary lapse in composure.

“don’t hide. show them how much you're enjoying this for me. look at the screen, princess."

you’re fucking shivering.

your face hot and tear streaked, you force your heavy eyelids open. you feel so fucking gross, your lips are swollen and glistening with saliva, your hair is a mess, and you can feel the dampness of your own slick coating his hand.

but as you look back down to where the phone is angled, jeongguk is right there, his face hovering just inches from yours. his dark eyes are round and sparkly, filled with that worshipful light.

"there she fuckin’ is," he breathes, a low, ragged sound that vibrates in the air between you. he presses a messy kiss to your cheek. "my pretty girl. so fucking pretty. look at those eyes.. so wide and beautiful for me."

"j-jeongguk, please," you babble, the corner of your mouth is sore from his digit still pressing you open; the words coming out in broken, frantic whimpers.

your free hand clutches at the bedsheets, his hair, his bicep — anything — as the tension in your lower belly reaches a breaking point. “k-koo! hhnnn baby fuckfuckfuck,” “yes? yes my pretty girl?”

too much; the friction, the pressure, the sheer intensity of being watched and handled like this in front of a camera. "gonna— oh god, koo, g-gonna cum! i’m gonna cum, please!"

"yeah? gonna cum for koo?" his hand finally, finally leaves your face, letting you suck in a deep breath, still covered in sticky sweat and your saliva fucking everywhere.

you’re not sure what’s worse, the smears of your expensive brown lip gloss on his hand, or the way he sucks on his own thumb, making a show of swirling his tongue around it, tasting your spit before reaching down to help you film. like it was the most normal thing ever.

it makes your pussy clench, and you both wince.

“give it to me, mama. please?” he leans in, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to the curve of your shoulder, his lips soft against your heated skin even as his fingers suddenly become a blur of motion between your thighs, making you fucking scream as you squirm. it’s too much. too much. too much.

he’s working you with a ruthless, rhythmic precision, his thumb grinding against your clit in a way that feels like it’s trying to pull the very soul out of you — and the dirtiest thing somehow is the happiness on his face as he’s doing it.

through your tears you can make out his smile, his tongue poking out like he’s concentrated on a sketch rather than making his pretty girlfriend fall apart in a wet, hot mess.

the cherry on top? as he fucks into your sopping cunt, the filthiest noises filling the warm air around you, he’s peering down into the camera from over your shoulder.

and he, with all the audacity in the fucking world, winks.

the climax hits you like a physical blow, a violent, tectonic shift that shatters your remaining strength. you let out a high, keening wail, your back arching so sharply it feels like you might snap.

your vision explodes into white light as the first massive wave of release erupts from you. you feel the hot, forceful spray of your juices drenching his hand and splashing against the sheets, and the floor. a torrential outpouring of pure, unbridled ecstasy.

you’re shaking, sobbing, your entire body convulsing in the throes of a squirt so intense it feels like you’re being emptied out entirely.

and through the haze of your undoing, through the tears and the gasps and the sheer, overwhelming sensation of being broken open, you see him. he’s watching you instead of the camera, his eyes locked on you. his girl. as he captures every messy, beautiful second of your surrender.

a wide, enamored, and utterly obsessed grin is plastered on his face. he’s watching his masterpiece unfold in real time, and he looks like he’s never been more proud in his entire life.

“oh my god, you’re the cutest thing ever,” he’s giggling. he made you squirt all over and he’s fucking giggling.

after the first initial spray, he pulls his fingers out, only to plunge them back in, easily now, from all the wetness and slick, pushing, flicking against that spot with just the right pressure, to pull another spray from you. his eyes glued to your teary face, brows furrowed and lips still pulled in that stupid smile as he tries to soak in every single reaction.

“koo, baby, nghhhh, you’re so—“ you grit out through your teeth, thighs trembling violently, as the pleasure and stinging pain blend together so bad, your eyeliner is washed clean off by now.

he pulls out, goes back in for another, pulling a tinier fountain out of you,

and then another — but you’re pushing, pounding weakly against his forearm, and he finally stops. his hand resting, cupping over your creamy, puffy pussy.

there’s nothing but your breathing for a moment, and the thrum of your heartbeats racing in the aftermath.

he sets the camera back on the table in front of you, angling it low so it still catches every last drop of your release dripping down your thighs. his hand, the one drenched in your squirt, reaches up again, finding its place back on your neck the to tilt your head the way he wants and kiss you.

it’s wet, it’s messy, and so so soft, so so loving. his piercing cools the heat of your swollen lips as he sucks on your tongue playfully, before it’s your turn to smack him away.

“mm, you did so good. you’re so fucking pretty. so fucking sweet.” he praises, genuinely lovesick. “my little porn star.”

your breathing fans his face, and he kisses you again. can’t get enough of you.

“are we gonna count that as one? or three?” you question, the teasing lilt returning to your voice as you glance at the still-recording phone, a few specks of your release glistening on the screen.

he hums for a moment, looking at the device before turning back, that grin of his turning cocky, proud.

“one, definitely one. ‘m far from done with you, mama.”

“i fucking hate you.”

you both let out a deep sigh, and share another deep, lingering kiss, before he’s freeing his huge, heavy, aching cock, and tightening his hand back around your throat with a smooch to your temple.

lord pray for this man’s storage.

© maison raceme2hell.

note. whipped this up in like 4 hours. i’m not a smut writer at all. was very horny. won’t happen again. bye

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Rain settles over London as if it’s seeking ownership.

Because in theory, rain does own the city of London, in its own, inscrutable way. It clings onto everything. From the glass windows of the club that are covered in a way that screams guilty, the stone railing that’s a little too romantic for a place like this, to your collarbones that stay exposed through the thick fabric of your coat— everything is decorated with small droplets of rain, creating a measured disorder that’s still stubborn enough not to leave no matter how hard you try to shake it off.

By the time the car pulls to a stop, it paints a black, sleek shadow beneath the streetlights. The street already looks polished; like it’s somewhere you don’t find yourself in unless it’s absolutely intentional, unless you’re assigned to be here, unless you have a purpose.

You watch it through the window for a little more than necessary, because every detail matters. You take notes of the grand spacing between the arrivals, the lack of hesitation at the entrance, the high chins and dark eyes of the men and women that are too powerful to face any consequences; every single one of these people belong here.

The driver opens the door of the backseat before you have time to even reach for the handle, blinking twice before stepping out to force confidence into your body. You move with ease, like you’ve practiced this a hundred times before, because you have. Because every ounce of authority in you is backed with years of practice.

Jungkook follows you a breath later, taking two large steps to claim his place right next to you, offering out an arm for you to hold onto. As he adjusts the black coat on his body, you slip your hand into the crook of his arm, fingers wrapping around his bicep.

The rain immediately catches in your hair, then the fabric on your shoulders, and then the exposed line of your collarbones. Jungkook opens the umbrella in his free hand before your blowout has time to budge out of place, holding it over your head without asking.

“Don’t scan too hard.” Jungkook says slowly, voice low enough to disappear beneath the crowd.

“Don’t teach me my job.” You mutter under your breath, eyes focused on the street instead of him.

Jungkook huffs out something between a breath and a laugh. “I’m not.” He says, adjusting the umbrella slightly, angling it so that it shields you more than himself. “I’m reminding you of it.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t forget what role you’re playing.”

He scoffs, but the corners of his mouth tilt despite himself. His posture shifts subtly, just enough to close the little space left between your bodies, like he’d been waiting for the cue.

“Please.” He huffs out, arm slipping out of yours to find your waist. His hand settles exactly where your waist curves inwards, wrapping around like it’s muscle memory. You straighten your posture at his touch, your shoulder brushing against his chest with each step you take.

Right ahead of you, the gravity around the entrance is so heavy it’s already pulling you in, before you can even acknowledge the warm coloured light painting the corners of the front door.

Jungkook leans into you, mouth grazing over your ear lightly, yet enough to let chills trail down your spine. “Camera over the left column.” He murmurs without looking, eyes flicking above the door so quickly even you almost don’t catch it. “Wide angle.” He continues.

“Mhm.’ You hum in response, a sweet yet calculated smile playing on your lips despite yourself. You place your right hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers where they sit on your waist. You pull him just a little closer to adjust your pace, slowing him down enough to fall in line with the queue of people ahead.

Up close, everything feels even more premeditated. The lighting frames the edges around the doorway instead of spilling naturally, catching in the marble in a golden hue. Two men are standing at the entrance, eyes scanning through until there isn’t an inch that’s not tainted by their gaze. They’re both in sleek black suits, dressed exactly the same as the white button-up underneath their jackets pick up the light in a way that’s too bright for a night like this.

“Good evening.” One of the men says when the two of you approach further. You don’t slow down, reaching the threshold arm in arm.

“Names?” He asks, eyes flicking between you and the list in his hand.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate before speaking, filling in the silence half a second later. “Charles and Clara Beaumont.”

The man’s eyes linger on you for a second longer this time, scanning through the list as he matches and confirms whatever he has to.

“Of course.” He says after a beat, moving to the side just enough to offer you space to step inside. Jungkook’s hand finds the small of your back, settling in a way that grounds you, sending warmth through your body, even over the fabric of your coat.

You don’t react outwardly, not in a way that lets him know, but you do feel his touch. The inch of contact, every degree of pressure, the way it anchors you just enough to look real— feel real.

“Stay close.” He murmurs, and the door opens.

You think you’ve never entered a place more unwelcoming than whatever this is.

“Let’s not waste time.” Director Kang had said, leaning onto the table that’s placed in the middle of the meeting room as he pressed a few buttons on the control in his hand until the screen flickered to life.

A face appeared; a man with a controlled smile, a sharp navy suit, and the kind of confidence that’s effortless without needing any practice, because it had been perfected years ago.

Hugo Vane.

You already knew the name, Jungkook already knew the name, but knowing from afar and seeing are different things.

“Publicly,” Kang started, the pacing of his words measured yet nowhere near slow. “One of the most successful private investors across Europe. Real estate, insurance, hospitality. He’s in it all, has been called ‘transformational’ way too many times.”

Jungkook let out a quiet breath through his nose, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Of course.”

“Over the last ten years, he’s built a network of high end venues across Europe– almost half in England– that function as fronts for illegal gambling, money laundering, controlled blackmail; all of it tied to names you would never expect” He breathed.

“What’s crucial is, everything is recorded. Debts, favors, leverage; we can get our hands on everything. This opening in London isn’t a random celebration, it’s a consolidation point. Real transactions will happen in the private rooms, so the main floor is useless. Your objective is simple, get inside one of those rooms, doesn’t matter which for now. We need confirmation of what happens in there. But most importantly, we need access, we need to track every breath they take.” Kang paused, exhaling through his nose.

“This man might have blood on his hands.”

After letting the words settle in the room, Jungkook tilted his head, swinging left and right in his chair. “And we’re just walking into that?” He asked.

Kang inhaled. “You’re not just walking into it.” He said, eyes flicking between the two of you before switching onto the next slide.

Two photos of a couple flashed across the screen, attractive and well dressed in the same old way people with generational wealth are.

“Charles and Clara Beaumont,” Kang explained. “Married for six years, currently in Nice, unlikely to make it.”

Jungkook’s mouth curved into a lazy grin. “So we’re them.”

“You are.”

“Six years?” You added a beat later, head tilting slightly.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, arm resting along the backrest. “Won’t take much time to look convincing.” He said, a small smirk on his face as his gaze flicked over to you.

“Gotta play your part well, Jeon.” You said, tone disinterested as your eyes still focused on the picture on the screen like it would tell you something if you stared hard enough.

A small smirk played out on his lips, cocky in a way that grew you eager to slap it off his face. “Oh, I won't be playing.’

You rolled your eyes, huffing out a short scoff. You didn’t respond to him further as your grip tightened around your pen, squinting your eyes at the man on the screen. “Backgrounds? Anything we shouldn’t look past?” You asked.

Kang nodded slowly. “Everything will be provided by tomorrow morning, study them before you fly out.”

He stepped away from the table, standing right in the middle of the two of you, hands on both your shoulders like he’s warning you. “You will not draw attention, and you will not break cover. Find the confirmation we need and leave before anyone suspects anything. Play safe this time, we’ll see what comes next when you fly back.”

“What if we get access to the recordings?” Jungkook asked.

“Great, but don’t compromise the mission for it. Like I said, play safe for now.” Kang said, Jungkook nodded once in response.

You crossed your arms over your chest, biting the corner of your lips. “What about surveillance?”

“Everywhere. Which means whatever you do,” Kang answered until Jungkook cut him off, leaning forward, settling his elbows on the table. “We have to sell it.”

Kang lookwd at him. “Yes.”

“--Champagne?” The server asks, cutting through the memory with a sharp edge. You blink once, letting the room fold back into place with no more than a subtle shiver. So subtle that even Jungkook almost misses it despite being so close to you, to the point where you can feel each other’s pulses thudding under your skin. 

Your body retakes everything all at once; the gold light, murmur of voices that let out no more than a few low chuckles, the weight of Jungkook’s hand still resting around your waist like it never left.

Something almost flutters in your chest. 

You reach for the tray, taking a glass without any hesitation. “Thank you.” 

Jungkook takes one a second later, body moving slower than yours. Because his attention is already completely elsewhere, eyes scanning through the crowd until they settle, digging silent holes into the nape of a certain someone’s neck. 

“Right side.” Jungkook murmurs when the server disappears, eyes still stuck on the said man. 

But you don’t turn around, now having years of experience in the job. Your hands reach for your purse, grabbing a hold of lipstick and a mirror. You drop the cap of the lipstick into your purse before opening the mirror with one hand, reapplying your lipstick as your eyes scan around the whole venue through the small mirror. 

You take half a step to your left before he comes into your sight. Dark eyes, sharp jawline, navy suit tailored to fit his body without a single crease, exactly like Hugo Vane.

But younger. 

“Hugo’s son.” You answer quietly, eyes on the mirror as you pat the lipstick lightly onto your lips. Jungkook’s eyes flick towards you for a beat, towards your lips. It lasts shorter than a second, maybe less than half a second, but it does happen. And you notice. 

Jungkook hums, grip tightening on your waist. “Thought so.” 

The man moves through the room without stopping, like he doesn’t need to, because it’s being cleared for him before he can have the time to complain. It’s not obvious, there is no dramatic space as he steps through, but there is a quiet shift in people’s demeanour. The way conversations pause just enough, the way bodies angle themselves just slightly, the way the room bends and molds around him and not the way around. 

You try not to drown in the space he leaves behind, because it doesn’t settle, it knocks your breath out in a way you don’t know how to explain. You don’t get anxious often– no, you never get anxious. But something about the way he silently grabbed the room and bent it without anyone noticing causes something unsettling to form somewhere in your stomach. 

How he moves is enough to tell you he’s not just wandering, he’s leading something. You don’t follow him immediately, letting the time stretch and the distance breathe. But Jungkook does still for a second, hand dropping from your waist until it wraps somewhere between your wrist and hand. 

Your eyes briefly flick over to the hall he disappears behind, watching the way the door swings back and forth ever so subtly. Of course, Jungkook notices your stare, eyes following the direction of your gaze. 

“That’s our way in.” He says, his hand holding yours properly now. 

“That’s not a way in.” You mutter through your teeth. “That’s access we don’t have.” 

He shifts his body slightly, adjusting you along with him so that you’re angled the opposite way. “That’s access we will have.” 

He pulls you fully now, your face almost crashing into his back as he moves without a warning. Jungkook walks fast as you trail behind, taking steps that are short, yet as swift as the height of your heels allow.

When you’re halfway through the corridor, Jungkook pulls you closer into him. But it’s different to the closeness you’ve been maintaining so far. This time, you feel his cologne filling up your nostrils every time he shifts, the way his chest rises and falls whenever he breathes. This time, he pulls you so close that turning your head means something you don’t want to say out loud. 

So you don’t. 

“Someone’s watching.” He says into your ear, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” You reply, back pressed into his. Of course you know, because someone has been watching. Someone has been watching you for so long that the feeling of it transitions into a pattern, the kind you notice even when you try not to. Here, people don’t scan, neither do they hold your gaze; but they do reappear. You swear you see the same people all at the same places at the same times; like they’re circling around certain spots ith purpose rather than simply attending an opening.

“Good.” Jungkook says before turning you around, thumb pressing lightly against your wrist. Maybe it’s a cue, maybe it’s a warning, you have no idea which. Because there’s no time for you to figure it out, because Jungkook leans in when you expect it the least.

He’s so much closer than necessary, closer than professional, and the way your body reacts is just as– maybe even more– unprofessional. 

His voice drops by an octave, words escaping his lips before they disappears somewhere on your skin. “Then let’s give them something to look at.” 

He pulls your body closer into his by your hands, hooking them around his neck before he lets his hands drop down to your waist. You take notice of how slow they move, because they don’t really drop down, they slide.

It feels intentional, like he’s actually caressing your body with care instead of putting on a show. Your breath catches before you can stop yourself. And even though

you get it together quickly, Jungkook notices. 

“Relax.” He says, forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot against your skin. 

“I am relaxed, but you’re overdoing it.” You say, hands settling where he put them. 

“No, you’re underdoing it.” Your jaw tightens at the words, and you almost roll your eyes. Almost, because right now, you definitely have way too much attention on you to slip even a little. 

So despite your words, your hands move. They scratch the nape of his neck before disappearing in his hair, fingers curling lightly until they’re tangled inside. 

“Your left,” You whisper against his mouth. “Same man, still watching.” 

“Mhm.” He hums. “Let him.” But his eyes are already closed, body leaning even more into yours as if there is any space left. Your hands drop from his hair to his shoulders, and before you know it, Jungkook’s lips are on yours. 

It takes you a second to shake yourself out of the shock, letting yourself melt into the kiss as his soft lips move on yours with ease, like they belong there, like this is normal for you to do. Your eyes flutter shut, hands roaming all around his shoulders. You flinch when he gives your ass a squeeze, sending a tingle through your legs. 

One of his hands raises up until it reaches your face, cupping your cheek as his thumb trails softly along your jaw. He forces your mouth open with his thumb, pulling down your bottom lip slowly, and you grant him access without thinking. 

A small moan escapes your lips when his tongue slides into your mouth, and Jungkook swears his pants are going to rip right on spot if you keep sounding like that. He feels something fluttering in his chest, something he knows he has been suppressing for a long time now. So he just pulls you closer, and lets his mind drift away from anything and everything for just second, focusing on you only. 

Until someone clears their throat. 

“Mr. and Mrs–” 

Your whole body stills, unable to move even an inch. But that’s fine, because couples like this don’t break apart for interruptions. Jungkook lets his teeth pull onto your bottom lip for one last time before breaking apart, slow enough so that you can gather yourself. 

He does pull away, but his hand doesn’t leave your waist. And for a split second, he doesn’t even turn his head. 

“--Beaumont.” The staff continues. 

Both of you shift your gazes towards him, acting completely calm and unbothered. “Yes?” Jungkook asks politely, brows raised only slightly. 

The man gives you a measured smile. “Mr. Vane is a man of discretion.” 

Touché

“If you would like somewhere more private,” He continues, gesturing subtly towards a door somewhere along the corridor. “We can accommodate you.” 

There it is. 

Though, you don’t answer immediately, letting the question rest for a second or two in order to make it feel real. Not eager, not hesitant, but rather like it’s something you’re used to. 

Jungkook glances down at you, offering a look that’s not really asking, because he already knows the answer. Just something that’s checking, something that lets him know everything is fine. You tilt your head slightly, the corner of your mouth lifting just enough so that Jungkook notices, yet the man doesn’t. 

He turns his head towards the man. “Of course.” 

The man steps aside, letting the corridor fall open and twist into something darker. Jungkook’s hand shifts at your waist, guiding you through the hall. And this time, you just let yourself melt into the comfort of his presence. Because resistance doesn’t really mean anything anymore. Because you know that somewhere along your performance, something slipped. The control, the acting– whatever you call it. What’s important is that neither of you really acknowledged it. 

The door closes behind you softly, a sound that’s too little for a door this heavy. It doesn’t really echo, doesn’t physically linger either. But still, for a second, you can’t find it in yourself to move. You don’t have to look at Jungkook to know he hasn’t either, you can feel it in the way the air shifts around him. His legs don’t carry him anywhere when the door clicks shut, eyes roaming around the room as the rest of his body stays still.

The room is quieter than you expect it to be. It’s not empty, not silent; there’s music humming faintly from somewhere behind, walls filtering out the bass until it nearly doesn’t even reach your ears. But somehow, you still feel it thudding under your ribs, hard and heavy until it stings somewhere you can’t quite reach. 

But everything feels more uncomfortable than you imagined, because even in a room as private as this one, there is intention behind every little detail. The deep brown of the leather couch, the two untouched glasses on the table already filled with whiskey too bitter for your taste, the light that’s even dimmer, even warmer compared to the outside– everything is arranged like they expect you to sit, to drink, to stay.

To forget. 

When you take a step forward, heels sinking into the carpet, Jungkook’s hand doesn’t leave your waist. 

If anything, it settles deeper. 

Jungkook shifts his weight from one leg to the other, his chest pressing closer into your back as he leans in slightly, just enough for his mouth to brush your ear. “Two cameras.” He whispers. “One above the mirror, one across the wall.” 

You don’t look, because you never do, because you never have to when it’s Jungkook who warns you. Instead, your hand moves to your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear as your gaze drifts lazily across the room, a little relieved that you’re finally where you’re supposed to be, doing what you’re supposed to do. 

Your fingers graze the edges of the mirror on the wall, mentally taking a note on how something is off about it, in a way you can’t exactly point a finger on. The frame feels too smooth on your skin, too flat for something that’s embroidered romantically. 

Your reflection stares back at you the same way it always does. Hair perfect, posture straight, lipstick faintly smudged because of the kiss you just shared; it’s completely untouched. 

But something is still off. The angle is wrong, your frame is slightly delayed, the glass is too clean that it’s suspicious. And finally, as your fingers keep grazing around the edges in hopes of finding something worth pocketing, something red winks at you. 

“They’re recording.” You say, voice breathy, almost distracted. 

Jungkook hums lowly behind you, eyes focused elsewhere. “Of course they are.” 

His hand leaves your waist for the first time since you walked in, stepping aside to take everything in properly. His absence hits you immediately, skin turning cold beneath the fabric on your body without the warmth of his touch. You try to ignore the feeling, you really do, but it lingers somewhere between the light chill of the room, and your pulse that’s now a little loud. Too loud that you feel it thud in your ears. 

But suddenly, something louder than the hard pulsing of rhythms fly in from behind. It doesn’t come from the hallway– no, it’s deeper than that. The voices are muffled, the words are whispered discreetly and are chosen with care; private enough to pull a tight knot in your stomach. 

You still without realizing, eyes widening only slightly as your hands rub themselves onto the sides of your coat. Jungkook notices it immediately, eyes shifting onto you before he lets his hand find yours. His fingers slip between yours, gliding with ease as if this is the most natural thing for you to do. His hold grounds you. You have no idea how or why, but it does, and your grip tightens around his beneath awareness. 

Jungkook had never been easy to read. 

You’ve shared way too many long flights, way too many late night debriefs. Yes, he was a little too flirty sometimes. And yes, you were aware of his attraction towards you. But you never thought it was anything near serious. At the end of the day, you were just coworkers who, in reality, couldn’t even properly get along.

Despite his cocky and flirty persona, Jungkook isn't a careless man. He never lets something slip before weighing it over and over again, never lets something mean too much.

You always thought it meant nothing to him, that he was just acting a certain way to get on your nerves, that this was just the kind of person he is.

Oh boy were you wrong. 

“Wall behind the couch.” You say, gesturing towards where the voices are coming from. Jungkook turns slightly, angling his body just enough to follow the line of your sight without making it obvious. 

There’s a panel there, a seamless way that leans into another room, almost invisible even to you despite how carefully you’re looking for it. Somewhere between a breath and a flick of your eyes, Jungkook moves. His body works around yours swiftly, turning you before you can process it, pressing your back into the wall you had just been gesturing at. 

Your breath catches, more from the sudden closure than anything else, your hands instinctively finding his chest as he closes the distance between you. The room, the air, even voices; everything feels smaller like this. Like it’s just the two of you and no one else who are existing in this space. 

“What are you doing?” You ask under your breath, but it doesn’t land the way it usually does. Because he’s already closer than what’s professional, closer than what’s safe. 

Jungkook lifts his index finger, placing it on top for your lips. “Shh.” He shushes you, brows raised slightly. 

A voice filters in, dark and hoarse. “...this wasn’t part of what we shook hands on.” 

Something shifts on the other side of the wall, distorted in a way that doesn’t allow you to hear everything properly. “We can make a few adjustments.” Another man answers, his tone noticeably calmer. 

“Hugo’s son.” Jungkook whispers, his eyes staring right into yours. 

You grab his hand, pushing it off your face with a huff. “What even is his name?” You ask, face scrunched in confusion at the sudden realization. 

Jungkook shrugs, letting the voices of the two men fill in the room. “That’s not how your father cooperates.”

“My father isn’t here tonight.” 

Your breath stills, wide eyes lifting up to catch Jungkook’s, filled with unease. 

How the fuck is Hugo not here? 

That throws everything off. Because Hugo Vane not being here doesn’t feel like an absence, it makes you feel his presence even more, settling under your bones with an ache you don’t like. Because if Hugo isn’t here, because if he didn’t even bother getting out of his way to come here, this isn’t just an opening that covers a few illegal exchanges. It’s something else entirely, something that has been in motion for a lot longer than you knew of. 

And whatever you walked into tonight is bigger than the room you’re standing in. 

The other man starts. “If anything goes wrong–” 

“It won’t.” Hugo’s son cuts him off, voice steady like it’s forcing everything into exactly where he wants.. There’s a pause, a beat filled with silence before he continues. “Everything is already in place.”

The words sound like a trap. 

When your eyes flick back to Jungkook, you realize he’s already looking at you, eyes a little too empty to your liking. He looks like he’s thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. So you lift your hand, shoving his chest lightly to recollect his attention. 

“Jungkook, focus.” You murmur through your teeth. 

But he doesn’t react immediately, not properly at least, because his hand is still holding yours, his arm is still around your waist. And instead of loosening his hold or giving you space to breathe, his grip tightens, fingers curling around you like he’s trying to ground the two of you at the same time.

Then, his hand moves. Not away, of course not. It shifts from your waist, sliding down to your hips. Though the movement is slow, like he’s giving himself time to stop, to pull back into whatever control he has been holding onto all night. 

And you can’t find it in you to move. 

“They’re watching.” He says quietly, thumb grazing circles on your hip. 

There’s no fucking way he’s doing that as performance. 

“I know.” You respond, eyes stuck on his like they’ll bleed into blindness if you tear them away. Your voice is softer now, breathy in a way that makes Jungkook lose his mind, not that he’d ever tell you. 

But right now, you too know that something shifted, that this doesn’t feel like just a show anymore. 

Jungkook exhales through his nose, slow and rough, closing his eyes along with the breath he lets out. “I’ve been trying not to do this.” He starts, taking a step closer as if it’s possible. “But you’re making it so fucking hard.” 

For a second, you consider pretending to not understand what he means, almost tilting your head with oblivious eyes. But halfway, you decide against it, sharply inhaling the breath he just exhaled. 

But the space between you is too little– no, it doesn’t even exist anymore. The room feels smaller, the air feels thicker, and the muffled voices of the two men disappear completely behind the wall when he lets his body lean a little more into yours. 

At your lack of response, Jungkook lifts the hem of your coat, giving your ass a squeeze above the thin fabric of your dress. You moan involuntarily, head falling back until it hits the hard wall behind you, a little harsher than you would’ve guessed. 

“Tell me to stop now.” He says, voice low in a way that’s barely above a whisper. “Because I won’t.” 

You crash your lips into his. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the walls, or maybe the fact that you’re being watched and still choosing this anyway. 

Or maybe, it’s just him. 

You don’t know, you can’t even think straight right now. Because the second your lips meet his, everything else collapses into a haze, way too easily. You lose your last remaining hold on everything you’ve been trying to build since even before you stepped out of the car tonight. The mission, Hugo, his son, anything and everything that’s currently going on behind the wall, even the cameras you’re fully aware of– they all blur into something distant. 

You’ll deal with those later. 

A swift feeling of surprise takes over Jungkook when it’s you who breaks the tension first, but he melts into the kiss without giving you time to recalibrate your actions. Your hands settle on his shoulders, fiddling with the thick fabric of his coat before slipping it down his shoulders, letting it fall onto the floor. Once it’s off, your hands move quickly on his dress shirt, unbuttoning it eagerly. 

Jungkook lets out a groan at your touch, because he feels what’s underneath it immediately. The way you stop hesitating and start pulling him instead, the way your hands grip his shirt like you mean it, like you’re not just letting this happen.

You’re choosing this.

That’s what knocks the air out of his lungs more than anything else tonight. Because just hours ago, he was ready for resistance, he was ready for control, he has been doing it for years. Acting like you’re nothing more than occasional partners who don’t even get along for

the most part. He was ready for you to push him away if he went too far with the role, if he played it a little too well. He was ready to stop if you wanted to. 

But he wasn’t ready for this. 

He wasn’t ready for you, for your lips to meet, rid of any ounce of hesitation, like you’ve been wanting this too. 

He squeezes your ass again, with both hands this time, needing to feel every inch of your body. His eyes flutter uncontrollably when you let out another dreamy moan, something that sounds like an angelic melody to his ears. He pulls you closer by the hips, then thrusts his own to meet you halfway, biting his lip harshly at the contact. 

“Please, Jungkook.” You cry out, thrusting your hips into his once again, by yourself this time, desperate for a touch, an ounce of friction– anything.

“Please what, baby?” Jungkook responds with a question, his hot breath hitting the exposed skin of your neck, trailing all the way down to your collarbones. “Use your words, I know you can.” 

Your hands continue moving on his shoulder, sliding off his shirt once you’re done with the buttons. You find yourself needing to take a moment at the sight of his bare chest, because it’s better than any you’ve seen before. Soft, toned– maybe even a little too toned– so bare and so pretty, all for you to touch. 

Your hands roam around his chest, tracing lines along his abs. Jungkook has to bite his cheek to suppress any unplanned sounds that he realizes are way more likely to slip than he thought now that he actually feels your touch on his body.  

“Not gonna fucking beg for this.” You squeeze his shoulders, nails digging deeply into his bare skin, letting your back lean even more into the wall. 

Fuck.

Jungkook has thought about this.

In quieter moments, in between meetings and conversations when you were standing a little too close, in places where he shouldn’t have; he’s thought about it all. The way your voice would drop by and octave when you were focused, the way your skirt would ride up your thigh when you leaned in just a little lower, the way your hand would brush his like it meant nothing.

It never meant nothing to him.

He’d always pushed it down. Because this was work, because you were his partner, because he knew you better than to ruin something that functioned this well.

But now, your hands are all over his body, moving and pulling him in instead of stopping. Your lips are so fucking soft against his, making his chest tighter and head emptier until there isn’t a single coherent thought left inside. 

“Fucking tease.” Jungkook says before lifting your dress up, letting it pool around your waist. Your lips curl up in victory when he pulls your panties to the side, flicking the lips of your pussy with two fingers, feeling your slick coat his fingers. 

He plays with your clit, rubbing circles with his thumb as his two other fingers slide in and out of your wet, aching hole. Your eyes immediately fall shut at the contact, inhaling sharply when he curls his fingers at an angle he knows will make you see stars. 

Then he falls to his knees. 

Your eyes flutter open the moment you hear the way his knees hit the hard floor, lips parting as you’re taken aback by whatever he’s doing. You look down to him, brows furrowed in

confusion in a way that asks. But Jungkook doesn’t respond, he only gives you a smirk after looking up, then flicks his gaze back down again. 

His fingers wrap around the lace fabric of your black panties, pulling them down in a way that’s painfully slow considering the waterfall between your thighs right now. When the thin piece of fabric pools down on the floor, you lift your foot, kicking it to the side with your heels. 

“Jungkook,” You gasp loudly when he lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder. He starts by trailing kisses up your thighs, one hand wrapped around the soft flesh in order to steady your body. Your hands fly onto his hair before you can think, fisting and pulling at it as he gets closer and closer to your core. 

“Oh my god,” You moan, looking down at him as his tongue laps against your swollen pussy. His fingers flick your lips open, easing it up for him to work his tongue. Jungkook groans as you tug onto his hair harder, licking your pussy as if he’s savoring the taste of every flavour on his tongue. 

Your thighs clam around his head, closing with a shake you have no idea how to control. Your nails dig into your own palms by how hard you’re holding onto him, stinging in a way that’s almost painful. 

“Shit, ‘m so close.” You whimper as heat pools low in your stomach, twisting and curling so hard that you feel your legs giving out. 

“Sweetest pussy ever.” Jungkook pulls away for a split second before connecting his mouth back onto your throbbing pussy, his tongue flattening right at the part where it pulses the heaviest. 

“Jungkook, fuck.” You cum hard with a scream of his name, your head falling back onto the wall so fast it almost hurts. Jungkook licks you through your orgasm, his fingers that were once separating your lips now rubbing circles on your clit until you’re fully out of your high. 

Your breath doesn’t settle when he stands again, coming back up to his feet so fast, as if being away from you for even a second feels unbearable. You hold onto his arms to regain

your balance, and no more than a second passes before Jungkook’s lips find yours again. 

“Gonna bend you over and take you right fucking here.” Jungkook says, grunting as he pulls back. He turns you around, then pushes you over the backrest of the leather couch until your ass is perfectly aligned and in sight. Jungkook palms the soft flesh of your skin, gripping and squeezing as he tries unzipping his pants with his free hand. 

His dick springs out once his boxer is down his thighs, slapping against his abs immediately. He gives his already hardened length a few strokes before lining it up your entrance, flicking your folds with his tip, all red and angry, eager to fuck you into oblivion until your eyes roll back so hard it hurts to not see his face through the darkness. 

You whimper loudly when Jungkook enters you with a hard slam, back arching into the air instinctively. His hand settles on your waist, gripping firmly as the other doesn’t leave your waist. Your pussy feels so tight and warm around his cock, and Jungkook thinks he’s going to burst out. 

“Can’t believe you’ve been hiding yourself from me for years.” Jungkook says, words coming out shaky due to how hard he’s pounding into you. “Played so hard to get when you’re really just a slut.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” You spit back through grithed teeth, trying to suppress your moans by burying your head into the couch. Jungkook lets out a cocky chuckle that twists your nerves even more, but the annoyance is quickly swollen up by how good he’s pounding into you. 

He reaches for your dress, pulling down the fabric on your chest until the swell of your boobs spill out through your bra. Jungkook pulls down your bra next, your tits coming full on display

with a bounce. He moans when his palms settle on your soft boobs, fingers flicking and pinching your nipples until your pussy aches even harder with the sensation. 

“Right there, oh my god, right fucking there.” You choke out with the little energy you have left, feeling your orgasm closer than ever. Jungkook fists your hair when you least expect it, yanking you up so that your back arches further and his bare chest grazes over your body. 

You moan out shaky curses, not even aware of what you’re saying anymore as he keeps pounding into you from behind. Tears prickle up at the corners of your eyes, Jungkook’s grip getting tighter and tighter in your hair as he nears his high. 

“Shit,” Jungkook whimpers, dick twitching inside your walls. “Where do you want me?” He asks, voice so low and breathy that it sends you over the edge. 

“Fuck, want it inside. Don’t you dare pull out.” You say, feeling your orgasm build as his thrusts transition into something messy and sloppy.

“Oh yeah?” He breathes, pushing your body back onto the couch, his grip on your waist tightening. 

Jungkook cums hard with a loud groan, emptying all of himself into you. You push yourself back on his dick a few times before your orgasm also rips through, crying out at both how hard you’re cumming, and how good he’s filling you up. 

There’s a beat where he doesn’t pull out, cock softening inside you as his forehead presses between your shoulderblades, his unsteady breath feeling hot on your skin. Your breath also doesn’t settle instantly, chest rising unevenly as the weight of him suddenly feels too heavy on your skin. Everything falls back into place one by one, your vision drifting back as you come down from your high. The warmth of the dim lights, the closed door that’s hiding way too much behind, the quiet hum of voices that are muffled together behind the walls– it all returns all at once, like you’re being forced back into reality after being somewhere else entirely. 

Jungkook’s hand is still on your waist, grip still firm as if he hasn’t realized he has to let you go– or maybe he just doesn’t want to let you go. 

When Jungkook slides out of you, you push yourself up slightly, your body still slower than your head. “Jungkook,” You start, voice rough.

You feel his body still above you, a shift that’s so subtle yet still enough for you to feel. The realization hits him the same moment it hits you, his hand loosening on your waist.

“Cameras.” You finish, voice soft and quiet despite the weight of your words. 

That’s all it takes for Jungkook to blink back into reality, pulling back fast as if distance has the power to fix everything just like that. But surprise surprise, it won’t. 

That’s when a sound cuts through the walls, something so faint that for a second, you think that even you might have missed it. But you don’t, because you never do. You flinch regardless, fingers tightening slightly where they rest against him. 

Jungkook feels it instantly, head snapping towards the door before he flicks his gaze back to you, leaning down just a little. “What?” He murmurs in your ear, voice low in a way that’s barely above a whisper.

You don’t answer, you can’t bring yourself to answer, because nothing that’s going through your head sounds coherent as words. Your head turns slightly when another muffled voice comes through somewhere behind the right wall, tilting enough to catch the direction without making it obvious. Jungkook follows without looking, shifting and leaning closer by just half an inch, instinctively hovering his body above yours. 

His chest rises and falls harder than his usual breathing, eyes flicking around the room, reevaluating everything you’ve terribly miscalculated. “Fuck.” He mutters under his breath.

“You’re overreacting.” Someone says, voice calm and controlled, so much that it makes your stomach twist. 

“I’m not overreacting, they went into one of the rooms.” Another voice replies, but it’s sharper this time. Dressed in a worry that doesn’t even try to rival how composed the previous man was. 

Jungkook’s hand tightens around the backrest of the couch, leaning his body weight onto his hands above you. Your breath gets caught in your throat, stomach dropping in a way that’s almost unprofessional. 

“Which room?” The calmer man asks. 

There’s a pause after that, maybe a flick over the keyboard, maybe a shift of screening, you don’t know which. But the soft clicking that’s somehow heard even from where you are is enough for you to freeze beneath the warmth of Jungkook’s body. 

“Doesn’t matter, we’re flagging everything.” 

Fuck.

Jungkook’s grip stills on you completely, his wide eyes staring wordlessly into the wall as yours are stuck on his chest. Unable to move, unable to speak. 

“Do we know who they are?”

“Not yet.” 

With that, you exhale slowly, letting out the breath that has been stuck in you ever since the first subtle shift behind the walls. You know this doesn’t give you much time, hell, it would probably be criminal to call whatever this is some time. But right now, you’ll take anything you can. Because everything feels so fucking unavoidable. 

“Run it through the system.” The second voice requests. “Faces, behavior, track everything.” 

“They won’t make it out without us knowing,” The first voice finishes. You hear the faint scraping of the chairs, footsteps that are closer and closer as time passes by, movement that’s too animatic to be real, it all hits your ear in a hue. Suddenly, the door clicks, and they’re gone just like that. 

For a second, it feels like they’re still right behind the wall, their presence burning holes through your body without even catching sight of your eyes. Like they’re still listening, still watching, waiting.

But then, somewhere between the third and fourth breath you exhale, the sound starts fading and fading until they’re finally out of your reach. 

But you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, because it’s still not quiet enough. The constellation of Jungkook’s uneven breaths mixed with yours rip through the air until it feels unbearable to exist in the same space anymore. 

Because now, your fingers curl tighter against Jungkook’s shirt for a different reason entirely. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes filled with something that indicates he understood everything at exactly the same time as you. And it’s nowhere near controlled. 

“They flagged the room.” You whisper, wide eyes looking up at him in a way that causes Jungkook to curse at himself for thinking with his dick in a situation like this. 

His jaw tightens. “Yeah.” 

Your mind races, trying to recollect everything until they stick together again. “And the system-” 

He cuts you off. “It’s already running.” 

Your voice drops as you start blinking so fast it hurts. “Shit, Jungkook, what do we do? They fucking saw us.”

You hate how he doesn’t deny it, how he doesn’t even try to soften it. Because it’s there, everything already happened in a way that’s way too ugly to be repairable, way too real to be covered with a lie. 

Jungkook calls your name, slow and calculated. “They’re looking for us.” 

The way those words land is so much worse than whatever you had registered previously, leading your chest to tighten until it leaves no space for your breath to exist in your lungs. Everything you just did, everything you just heard– You’re not ahead anymore, you’re inside it, you’re caught right in the middle of everything you were told to stay away from. 

You make a mental note of torturing yourself for the way your chest flutters when Jungkook’s hand finds yours, grip firm like he’s scared to let you go, like he’s scared something might happen to you. 

“We need to move.” He says, eyes scanning around the room for anything that’s even the smallest thread. But when it comes to actually moving, neither of you really act on it. 

Because you both know the mission isn’t the only thing at risk anymore.

The year prior the questions from reporters were varied — When was your next album? Would there be a single released soon? What new music was being produced as of recent weeks? And maybe, if they were feeling nosey, they’d ask about your lover.

The lover they only care to hear about now that he’s an ex.

It was no secret that every news channel, magazine and radio station was milking your separation for everything it was worth — earning every dime off of your heartache. You’d been cornered and screamed at by reporters over the past few months over your break-up from the worldwide superstar Michael Jackson more times than for any music you’d put out.

So, you knew tonight would be no different.

Your manager had already warned you about keeping any responses to questions about Michael to a polite minimum to prevent bad press — but when every single reporter was asking the same thing, your irritation began to rise to the surface.

"Michael Jackson, your recent ex-husband, has just arrived here at the Grammy’s, he’s nominated for 12 awards — is there any resentment towards him now you’ve spilt as you’re only nominated for 2?"

Bitch.

You bit your inner cheek so hard you almost cried out as you forced down a nasty insult, but faked a smile and grit your teeth, "Not at all. He’s a talented man who worked hard for each nomination." You started, "But, I have also worked hard myself for my nominations which I am proud of if I win or not."

"And when will the divorce be final?"

Swallowing thickly, your breath shook as you exhaled gaining composure, "As of right now, there has been no divorce settlement papers drafted. We are just split up."

"So, technically, you’re still together?"

"No." You snapped, a forced smile still on your face, "We are split up." You repeated, trying not to sound too agitated.

"So,—"

"Thank you for your time." You cut off, picking up your dress and walking away.

You knew there’d be a story about that in the morning, but you didn’t care. It was either that or you screamed at her — and that certainly wouldn’t get you a Grammy.

You rushed through each interview, declining questions about Michael which only spurred the reporters on to press you about why you were saying no to questions about him. The inside of your mouth was practically red raw from how often you were biting down to force the agitation back down your throat.

Luckily, the ceremony was a blissful, magical experience — all memories of your ex-lover had been washed away, for the time being, as you watched each of your fellow singers and stars win their awards. A good friend of yours, country singer, Debbie Allen, had just won her award for Best Female Country Vocal Performance for her single ‘Baby I Lied’, who thanked her loved ones & producers, and rushed back down to the table you shared for the night.

"Well done, honey!" You beamed, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek as you embraced in a hug, "So proud of you."

"Thank you, baby." She whispered, "How you been tonight? I hope those reporters haven’t been giving you too much trouble."

You scoffed, taking a sip of your Martini, "They couldn’t have given me more trouble, Deb."’

"Oh, Lord." She sighed, "I’m so sorry, honey, I know this must be real hard for you."

You huffed in defeat, shrugging, signifying you knew there wasn’t anything you could do about the situation. You and Michael hadn’t spoken since you moved out of your shared house, Hayvenhurst in Encino, and back to your own personal home. Since then, the media have spun lies and rumours, only forcing you further apart and building the awkward tension.

You quietened down as the presenters at the stage began talking, "This award is for Record of the Year, where many talented musicians have displayed some of their best work yet." One started, "The nominees are ‘Every Breath you Take’ by The Police," They read names and applause sounded throughout the room as each one was read, "'Flashdance… What a Feeling’ by Irene Cara, and ‘Beat it’ by Michael Jackson."

Your breath caught in your throat at the mention of his name and his smiling face on the screen in front of you. You refrained a gasp from slipping past your lips at his attire — Goodness, he looked good. His bedazzled suit, glove and signature sunglasses made him look like a true king. You were barely paying any attention as your heart hammered in your chest at the mere mention of his name. You hated how he still had an effect on you after all this time.

"And the Record of the Year goes to.." The silence was deafening as you held your breath,

“Michael Jackson ‘Beat it’!"

The room erupted into screams of adoration and loud applause as they all stood to congratulate him. Your heart thumped in your throat — part of you wanted to stand with a proud smile for the familiar lover, but the other half didn’t know whether it was worth the tabloids rumours.

In the heat of the moment, just as you were about to stand, a soft smile creeping on your face, you halted in your tracks.

Michael, your ex-husband of a mere few weeks, turned to his fellow nominee, Irene Cara, who was smiling sweetly at him, and kissed her.

Not once — but twice.

Air was knocked out of you as your mouth fell ajar as you watched him approach the stand to accept the award. Your mouth went swiftly dry and your eyes threatened to well up with tears, but you could feel the eyes on you, and soon the cameras too. So, a fake smile was forced onto your face as you stood to clap — ignoring the people around you glancing at you dramatically, as if waiting for your reaction.

Michael took the stage with his Producer Quincy Jones, who hugged him tightly, then jumped for joy at Michael’s second win of the night. Your chest rose and fell quickly as you watched the stage, your heart shattering as he stood at the stand — a smug smirk on his face while he held his two awards.

"I love all the girls in the balcony." Michael spoke, lifting his bedazzled hands in the air to point at the screaming fans beyond the stage.

Double homicide.

A sick, disgusted feeling crawled into your stomach as you listened to him talk. You honestly couldn’t believe what you were hearing — the man who devoted his life to you a few months ago, promised you children and a future, stability and love till the end of time, was now kissing women backstage at the Grammy’s and thanking his aroused, infatuated female fans. You were mortified.

You zoned out as he thanked his family, and Quincy took the stand to thank Michael and the editors to the album again. Your mind was in shambles as Debbie reached over to place a comforting hand on your arm, offering a sympathetic smile. You pursed your lips at her — trying to ignore Michael’s voice thanking the girls in the balcony once more before he exited the stage.

You swallowed thickly — you were in shock and disgust at the man you thought you knew. He clearly got a taste for being single and had his ego stroked too many times tonight, and decided to act a fool in front of everyone.

Embarrassment was an understatement.

"Men are pigs, sweetie. Don’t let him get to you. You’ve got a Grammy to win." Debbie whispered, squeezing your hand encouragingly.

You breathed out a laugh, smiling weakly at her as thoughts raced through your brain. Despite all the anger, sadness and disgust you felt right now, the most prominent emotion that was infesting your body right now was jealousy. You were sick with envy at Irene Cara — being able to stand up there and kiss your ex-man twice on stage. It made you violently jealous.

"The next award is for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance." The next presenters spoke, their voices pulling you out of your train of thought.

This was your nomination.

Your heart drummed with anxiety once more — the cocktail of emotions in your body knocking you sick as you waited.

"And the nominees are, ‘Flashdance…What a Feeling.’ by Irene Cara,"

Oh, now the competition was really on.

You hated that you secretly felt as though you were competing for Michael, but you couldn’t help but want nothing more than to win against her.

Your name was read last — the camera turning to you as a smirk crept onto your face, waving sweetly into the camera lense, attempting to look as unbothered as possible.

"And the winner is.."

Cheers erupted into the room as your name echoed in your ears, Debbie practically screaming beside you as she clapped feverishly.

You had won.

A wicked thought crept into your brain as you stood up, walking towards the stage with a dangerous grin on your face. This was going to get him back in every possible way. And her.

The applause died down as you were handed the award, which weighed your arms down, as you kissed the female presenter on the cheek. You leant the award on the stand as you approached the microphone.

"Firstly, I’d like to thank my Producer, who sadly couldn’t be here tonight, but gives his own personal thanks to all the editors and executive producers who helped us with this song that I’m beyond proud of." You started, smiling sweetly, catching the eyes of familiar faces in the crowd as you spoke.

"I also wanted to say that I am particularly proud of myself for this song as, I’m sure all of you are aware, these past few weeks have been difficult for me." You stated, whispers and shocked glances were shared across the room, "But, regardless, I’m here tonight, winning an award, feeling beautiful and happy to be alive." A round of applause was instigated as you laughed, "You will also know that despite common belief, when a separation occurs between man and wife — they are still, by law and under the word of God, still married. Which means no matter how many people you kiss on stage, I’ll still be your wife, Michael. And, I will always be, if you know you know, the Lady in his Life."

Flashing your wedding ring to the crowd that you still wore, you laughed loudly as the crowd went berserk, before exiting the stage. Screams of joy and shock erupted in the room as people sat near to Michael whispered to him, whose face himself was sporting a playful, shy smile, ignoring Quincy Jones laughing loudly next to him.

The rest of the night, where Michael went on to win 6 more awards, failing to address your call out of his stunt on stage, you were praised by many familiar stars — who claimed your speech was the best they’d heard in years. Unfortunately, you only won the one award, but you didn’t care — as the way you had outed Michael elicited a better feeling than any award could.

The end of the ceremony soon came around, and the after parties were beginning to start. Debbie had dragged you to one before you even got chance to decline, but you wanted to bask in your glory for a little longer before heading home.

Debbie had wondered off somewhere, claiming she needed to talk to Lionel Richie, and scurried off into the crowd — leaving you alone with your 4th Martini of the night.

"Nice little speech you gave earlier."

The familiar soft voice that sounded behind you sent shivers up your spine as you turned around to face the one man you’d wanted to ignore and be close to at the same time all night.

"Thank you." You smiled, "I thought it was fitting."

Michael hummed, nodding as the corner of his mouth threatened to curve into a smile, "I always admired your honesty." He spoke, "Congratulations by the way."

You chuckled softly, "Flattery won’t save you now, Michael."

"What? I can’t compliment my beautiful wife, as you say you are yourself."

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, "I am when you’re kissing other women in public in front of me, I’m not when you want something from me now you realised you’ve fucked up."

Michael chuckled, taking a step closer to you, the waft of his cologne filling your nostrils — a sickly sweet reminder of his stunning scent that you once had smothered on your bedsheets and in your hair after a night of ecstasy. The thought of your late night love during your marriage sent a wave of uncontrollable arousal throughout your body as you looked up at him.

"I don’t think God would approve of you denying yourself as my wife whenever you please."

"That’s rich coming from you." You scoffed, furrowing your eyebrows, "You were borderline adulterous tonight."

"I would only be adulterous if you were still officially my girl. Yes, you’re legally my wife. But, the last I knew, we were ‘separated’" He teased, taking another step closer, your chests nearly touching as your breathing quickened, "So, unless you’re saying you want me back?"

You scoffed, avoiding the question as you looked away from, not wanting to be the one to admit you missed him, "In your dreams, Michael."

"Sure is."

Your mouth fell agape at his words, trying not to interpret it as sexual — but your already aroused brain instantly went there, eliciting a flush of heat through you.

"You can’t pick and choose when you want me, Michael." You stood strong, ignoring the small waver in your voice, "I’m either your wife or I’ll have the divorce papers drafted for Monday morning."

Michael didn’t speak — just stared at you through his sunglasses, his lips pressed together calmly as he eyed you. Your chest rose and fell quicker as you grew more and more impatient for his response, your lips forming an irritated pout, which you subconsciously forgot he loved as a smirk grew on his face.

"What’s so funny? I’m being seri—“

"Come with me."

Without having a second to comprehend what was happening, Michael grasped your hand tightly and began exiting the party. Your mouth fell open in confusion as his fingers laced through yours while leading you through the crowd, earning a few confused glances from other stars as you rushed past.

The cold February air hit you sharply as Michael guided you outside, the instant intense flash of cameras blazing your eyesight as he smiled at the cameras, squeezing your hand as a push to do the same. You forced a smile as he ushered you into the back of a car, jumping in with you and shutting the door.

"Where to, Sir?" The driver questioned.

"To our home — Hayvenhurst, please." Michael spoke softly, as he always did, your ears perking at the use of the word ‘our’, "And take the long route."

You turned to face the superstar as the partition closed, silence filling the car. Michael was already looking at you, his glasses had been taken off, and sporting a small smile.

"Don’t give me that look. I meant what I said, Michael." You sassed, crossing your arms.

"I know you did." He agreed, "I’m sorry for how I behaved tonight. A man without the support of his beautiful wife is a lost man who makes stupid choices."

You eyed him as he spoke, attempting to not fall for the flattery, which proved to be difficult as he met you with his classic puppy dog eyes.

"Like you said, I wrote that song just for you. That one among many. You are the only lady in my life — you inspire all of my love songs. You are the reason my heart swells with such passion to sing about love."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words — pink flushing your cheeks at the sweet confession as he smiled softly at you. He knew exactly how to play you to get what he wanted.

"Come on, baby, didn’t I make you happy?"

"Michael." You warned, eyeing his smirk as he shuffled closer to you.

"I know I did." He whispered, suddenly as close as he was at the after party, forcing your breath to catch in your throat, "I made you smile, and laugh, and feel content with your life and our future." His hand crept up to your knee, your breathing increasing ever so slightly at the sudden touch, "But, more importantly, I made you feel good, didn’t I?" He mewled, his hand sliding up your dress to caress your thigh.

"Michael." You sighed, arousal building between your legs at his tender touch.

"Admit it. I made you feel so good when I made sweet love to you every night." Michael teased, his hand now snaking around your waist and pulling you flush against his warm body, a gasp ripping from your throat in surprise, "I knew exactly how to pleasure my sweet, beautiful lady."

"Yes — God, yes, you did." You breathed, your chest heaving in pure arousal as your hands clung to his chest and around his neck, finally giving in to him, "Please."

Michael didn’t need to tease and wind you up tonight — he knew you needed each other so badly it would’ve physically hurt to deny each other one another for any longer. His hands around your waist pulled you as close to him as humanly possible, another residing on your red hot cheek as he pressed his eager lips to yours in a feverish kiss.

You instantly hummed in pleasure at the feeling of his warm, soft mouth against yours — your hands flying to tangle in his curls as you moved over to straddle his hips. Michael groaned into your mouth as his hands slid down your exposed back, pressing your body into his as he slipped his eager tongue into your mouth — desperate to taste you everywhere.

His excitable kisses edged down from your jawline to your neck, to your chest, your heartbeat hammering against his lips — love bites being littered across your skin.

"Baby, please."

Michael groaned at the sound of your desperate, aroused plea — his achingly hard cock twitching beneath his slacks.

"Let me make it up to you, darling." Michael started, moving to lay you down on the back seat, and kissing slowly down your body as you whined beneath him impatiently, "Let me taste your perfect pussy — make you feel good."

"Yes — God, yes, please."

Michael didn’t waste a second as the whiny, breathy words of desperation left your lips — bunching your dress around your hips. Michael let out a shaky breath at the sight of your drenched panties — your puffy pussy drooling for him even after the whole ordeal.

He hooked two fingers into your waistband and shimmied the soaked pink cloth off your cunt, the bare sight of your pretty pussy on show for him. He let out a sigh of pure adoration as he admired you, pushing your legs apart.

"Gosh, this pussy is beautiful — so wet for me."

You whined beneath him, bucking your hips in despair as your hole clenched around nothing, begging to be touched. Michael took this as a sign to slide his two fingers between your slit, a loud gasp ripping from your throat as he nudged your sensitive clit, collecting your essence on his digits. Pushing your legs back further, Michael slid his lubricated fingers towards your quivering hole, teasing the outside, earning a loud cry of irritation as you silently begged for him to fill you.

"Be a good girl now — let me make you feel better." He ordered, pressing a soft kiss to your elevated ankle as he slid two fingers inside you, an erotic moan leaving your lips, "Mm, that’s it, baby, let me hear you."

He knew exactly how to take you, how you liked to be pleased and what made you cum instantly. You felt as though even though he was making it up to you, he was also getting off on this. He pumped his fingers in and out of your tight cunt — the squelching of your juices and the sound of your delicious moans filled the car, Michael’s cock throbbing beneath his clothes at the pornographic noises entering his ears.

"Such a sweet, good girl for me. And I’m such a bad husband, aren’t I? But, I’m gonna make it all better, hm?"

"N-No, you’re p-perfect, Mike." You forced out, your voice wavering as he pleasured you.

But, Michael knew exactly what was going to make you forgive him. Leaning down in between your legs, he littered your thighs in kisses before attaching his lips around your throbbing clit. His fingers still curling to hit that spongy spot inside you had your back arching off the seat, your cries reaching their loudest as your built up sexual frustration for your husband came to its peak.

"O-oh— Michael, God, I-I’m gon—gonn—“

"Cum for me, baby, give it to me." He egged on, his lips never leaving your clit, as his fingers sped up inside you to help push you over the edge.

You came with a scream, your hand flying to his curls to tug on while your legs clamped around his head — his name flooding from your mouth as you shook around his head, his tongue lapping up your juices as they leaked from your abused hole.

Michael didn’t waste any time after you came down from your high, perching up on his knees to free himself from his slacks and boxers, shoving them down his thighs to let his painfully hard cock spring free. You hummed in arousing anticipation as he spat a dollop of his saliva onto his hand and slicking his cock in the natural lubricant — pumping himself a few times with a hiss before positioning himself by your shaking cunt. He slid his cock between your slick folds — nudging your swollen, sensitive clit, earning a pathetic cry as you grasped his bicep.

"Ready to feel how sorry I am, sweet thing?"

You nodded with a whine as he pushed your knees closer to your chest in a brutal mating press — before pushing his tip into your tight walls. Both of you let out intense cries of pleasure at the feeling of one another’s genitalia after so long — the sexual frustration melting away as he slid in further and further. You always struggled to take his thick, heavy dick — but tonight you didn’t care. You were so caught up in your emotions that the burn and stretch of his fat cock didn’t phase you tonight. You just needed him to take you over and over again to prove his apology and how much he loved you.

Michael bottomed out with a groan, "Oh." He shivered, "I’ve missed this perfect pussy, Jesus." He leant down to capture your lips in a messy, passionate kiss, tongues and teeth banging together as he pulled out all the way, to slam back into you. Both of your explicit noises filled the car mixed with the stench of pure sex as he fucked you into the seat.

"M-Michael!" You whined, your hand reaching up to touch his face as his pelvis rubbed against your pathetically sensitive clit — that and the feeling of the tip of his cock abusing your G-Spot had you seeing stars and threatening to cum again already.

Michael, lost in the pure ecstasy of your weeping cunt, had words failing him as he slammed into you repeatedly — pure excitement flooding his veins at the feeling of you squeezing him in as you reached your climax once again.

"M-Michael, Michael, I’m there — I’m cumming!"

Michael cursed under his breath as his flopped forward, his face nuzzling into your neck as you arched your back into his chest, your fingers curled in his hair as you tightened around his aching cock — cumming with a loud cry against him.

Michael wasn’t far behind at the feeling of your pussy clenching him so hard as you finished — milking him for all he’s worth. He came with a growl into your neck, your name and little moans of pure pleasure whined from his lips as he stuffed you full of his load.

Michael flopped against you as his orgasm feathered away, being careful not to crush you under his weight. His legs shook as he slipped out of you with a hiss and a curse under his breath — the feeling of his warm cum trickling out of you had you whining quietly.

Michael leaned down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss — this one now delicate and tender, compared to the intense one prior. He took time with your lips, a soft hand on your neck as he lovingly pecked your lips.

"I love you so much, baby. I don’t wanna be without my wife any longer. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done — please don’t leave me again." He admitted, pressing his sticky forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut.

Your heart swelled at his gentle, kind words, suddenly feeling so full of love and purpose once more.

"I love you too, Michael.” You breathed, a shaky hand coming up to stroke his cheek, "And I’m sorry for embarrassing you tonight. I won’t ever leave your side again."’

Michael smiled against you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, before sitting up to tuck his softened cock back into his boxers. He then assisted you back into your underwear, fixed your dress and smoothed your hair for you, before calling out to the driver to tell him to head towards home.

"Does this mean you’re my official girl, wife, everything again?" Michael whispered, wrapping an arm around your sleepy frame as you slumped against him.

You nodded weakly, "Yes, Mike, I’m your everything again."

"You always were, my darling."