meeting your ex-boyfriend six year's later after leaving him for another man wasn’t something you were expecting!
pairing : biker jungkook x reader
genre : angst, smut, fluff ( mention of cheating )
The wind suddenly started blowing and the rain started hitting your skin hard. You could feel your hairs sticking to your forehead. You felt cold, wet and uncomfortable.....
You feel cold as you were trying to fix your car in the heavy rain. Not until you see a bike coming over and stopping just in front of you. The men come closer. It was hard to see his face due to heavy rain and darkness. And when you finally take a good look at the person, you go numb.
"Jungkook?"You spoke his name in utter disbelief. You couldn't believe the person in front of you was your ex-boyfriend, the one you had left for another man.
The rain was pouring mercilessly now, the droplets of water adding a poignant atmosphere to the unexpected encounter. Jungkook's eyes met yours, there was a mix of surprise and hesitation etched on his face.
He slowly dismounted from his bike, the rain now making his clothes cling to him, outlining his muscular physique that you remember vividly from the past. The sound of the raindrops hitting the pavement seemed to mute everything around you except for the thudding of your heart against your ribcage.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice low and laced with a hint of accusation. His eyes roamed over your form, taking in your soaked appearance.
You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to explain yourself. The memories of your past with him flooded your mind, the laughter, the arguments, and the love that had once bound you together. "My car broke down," you managed to say, pointing weakly to the abandoned vehicle down the road. The wind picked up, a gust making you shiver from the cold.
Jungkook's eyes flicked from you to your car then back to you. There was a momentary battle of emotions on his face, something between irritation and concern. He ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing the strands back off his forehead. "Get on," he said bluntly, gesturing to the seat behind him.
You blinked, unsure if you'd heard him correctly. Get on? You glanced at the bike, the small space behind him offering little protection from the rain, but it was still a better option than waiting alone in the cold. Without a word, you stepped forward and sat on the back of the bike. Jungkook climbed in front of you, setting his feet on the pedals before glancing back at you.
You wrapped your arms around his middle, your body pressed closely against his back. The familiar scent of him, mixed with the freshness of the rain, assaulted your senses, bringing back a rush of memories. As he began to pedal, the rain continued to lash down, the wind biting at your exposed skin. For a few moments, you both rode in silence, the only sound being the rhythmic beat of the bike wheels against the wet road.
The bike swayed slightly with every turn, and you found yourself clinging tighter to Jungkook, your cheek brushing against the wet fabric of his jacket. You could feel the warmth of his body against your cold skin, and it stirred something within you, something you thought you'd buried long ago.
He navigated the rain-soaked streets with expertise, his focus solely on the road ahead. You tried to keep your thoughts in check, but your mind kept drifting back to the past, recalling the moments you'd shared with him - the good and the bad.
The bike came to a sudden halt, and Jungkook motioned for you to get off. You looked up to see that you were standing outside a small, unassuming apartment building.
The rain continued to fall as he led you towards the building, his hand lightly on your elbow to steady you. Once you were both under the cover of the doorway, he quickly unlocked the door and gestured for you to enter.
Inside, the apartment was warm and surprisingly cozy. The living room was simply furnished but distinctly male, adorned with a couple of gaming consoles and some gym equipment.
“ What is this place “? You ask nervously.
Jungkook shut the door behind you, the sound of rain now muffled by the walls of the apartment. He moved past you, his footsteps soft on the hardwood floor.
"It's my place," he replied simply, his voice betraying no real emotion. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing a tight t-shirt underneath, clinging to his toned body.
His words echoed in your mind. His place. You watched as he hung his jacket on a hook near the door, his movements casual, as if hosting his ex-girlfriend in his home at 3 AM in the rain was a normal part of his routine.
"You're soaked," he commented, turning to look at you. His eyes raked over your form, your clothes drenched and sticking to your body, making you feel vulnerable under his gaze.
You were suddenly aware of how you must look, your mascara probably smudged, your hair dripping down your face. Despite your best efforts, a shiver ran through you from the cold, and you wrapped your arms around yourself.
"Wait here," Jungkook said, disappearing down a narrow hallway. You stood there, the quiet of the apartment suddenly feeling oppressive. You took the opportunity to study your surroundings. The space was tidy, a reflection of Jungkook's disciplined nature.
A few moments later, he reappeared holding a dry towel and a pile of clothes. He offered them to you wordlessly - a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie.
You took them, the warm fabric a stark contrast to the cold that had seeped into your bones. "Thanks," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Before you could protest, Jungkook nodded towards a door down the hall.
"Bathroom's there if you want to change," he said, his eyes flickering over you again. "I'll find you some blankets." With that, he turned and walked back down the hall, leaving you standing there, feeling more exposed than ever before.
You made your way to the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The small space was clean, the countertops bare except for a few toiletries. You quickly removed your wet clothes, your skin goose-bumping visibly in the cool air.
You dried yourself with the towel, the feeling of it against your skin offering a strange sense of comfort. You slipped on the clothes Jungkook had given you, the material soft and warm against your body. The hoodie was huge, the sleeves falling over your hands, adding an extra layer of coziness.
You took a few moments for yourself, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your makeup was smudged, your eyes looked tired, and your hair was a tangled mess. But there was something else too. A hint of vulnerability you weren't used to seeing in yourself.
Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself to face Jungkook again. You opened the door and stepped out into the hall. The sound of rain continued its steady rhythm outside, a constant background noise that seemed to emphasize the intimacy of the situation.
Making your way back to the living room, you found Jungkook sitting on a couch, sorting out some blankets. He looked up as you entered, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. He didn't say anything, just gestured for you to sit on the other end of the couch.
You obeyed, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the couch, your hands gripping the soft fabric of the hoodie. The silence between you was deafening, filled with unspoken words and unsaid apologies. But there was something else too - a tension, a thread of electricity that seemed to crackle between you.
Jungkook finished arranging the blankets and looked at you, his expression inscrutable. "You can sleep here," he said, gesturing towards the couch. "I'll take the spare room." Part of you wanted to object, but the exhaustion of the night was catching up with you. Without another word, he got up and started towards a door down the opposite end of the hall.
You watched him disappear into the shadows, your heart beating a little faster. You settled into the couch, drawing a blanket over yourself. The events of the night ran through your mind in a loop. The broken down car, the rain, Jungkook's unexpected appearance, and now the strange situation you were in.
Despite the awkwardness, however, part of you couldn't help but feel a familiar sense of comfort. Lying there, wrapped in blankets that smelled faintly of Jungkook, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, the sound of the rain lulling you into a dreamlike state.
As you slept, your dreams were a jumble of memories - moments with Jungkook playing out like a movie. The sound of his laughter, the feel of his hands in yours, the warmth of his embrace. It was as if the years that had passed had faded away, leaving only the raw, intense emotions you had once felt for him.
You stirred in your sleep, a soft moan escaping your lips. In your dreams, you were reliving a moment from the past, a time when everything between you and Jungkook was simple, or as simple as two young people in love could be.
The images were vivid, almost tangible. You could almost feel his touch, the way his fingers would trail over your skin, igniting a fire within you. The memory was so real that when a noise snapped you out of your dream, you bolted upright, disoriented and confused.
The room was still dark, the rain had let up, leaving behind an eerie quiet. You blinked, your mind clearing slowly, and as you looked around, you realized that the noise hadn't been from your dream. It was the sound of footsteps, approaching softly from the hall.
Sure enough, Jungkook appeared from the darkness, a silent shadow in the dark room. He was shirtless, his sculpted chest and abs on display under the dim lighting. Your throat dried as you took in his appearance. He was more muscular than you remembered, the years having chiseled away any residual boyishness.
He halted at the end of the couch, his eyes fixed on you. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the wariness in his gaze. Neither of you said anything for a moment, the silence charged with unspoken words.
He broke the silence first, his voice low and gravelly. "Did I wake you?" He moved closer, his eyes never leaving your face. You could see the hint of stubble on his chin, giving him a rougher edge than the boy you once knew.
"Yeah," you managed to say, your voice thick with sleep. You sat up straighter on the couch, pulling the blanket closer to cover yourself. His proximity was overwhelming, his scent filling your nostrils and clouding your thoughts.
He perched on the edge of the coffee table, his eyes roaming over you. The silence stretched on, punctuated only by your shallow breaths and the sound of the ticking clock. He was close enough that you could see the golden flecks in his brown eyes, the tiny bead of sweat on his temple.
"Why did you come here?" He suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the silence. The directness of his question caught you off guard, the vulnerability you'd felt in your sleepy state instantly replaced by defensiveness.
"My car broke down," you answered automatically, your voice more defensive than you intended. He huffed out a cynical laugh, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.
"And where were you going at three in the morning?" He pressed on, his gaze unwavering. You fidgeted under his scrutiny, the weight of his question making you feel like a child caught in a lie.
"Home," you answered honestly. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, a crack in the impassive facade he'd been keeping up. He sat back, his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles in his bicep flexing as he adjusted his position
"Home," he repeated, his tone flat. There was a bitterness in the word, a hint of something left unsaid. He studied you intently, his gaze roaming over your face, down the length of the hoodie you were wearing.
There was something about his look, something that made your skin flushed. The air between you was thick with tension, and you fought the urge to fidget under his gaze. He shifted on the coffee table, the movement drawing your eye to the definition in his abs, the way the muscles tightened as he moved.
"You don't wear stuff like that at home," he said suddenly indicating the dress you wore earlier , his eyes dropping to the hoodie you wore. You felt exposed under his gaze, the way he seemed to see right through you, to the layers upon layers of emotions you'd tried to bury over the years.
“ I have changed “, you said, looking away from him.
He huffed out a non-committal sound, not completely convinced. The air was still charged with tension, each passing moment stretching it tauter. He leaned forward a bit, his forearms resting on his knees, the movement only drawing your attention further to his physique.
"Why did you marry him?" The question took you by surprise, the bluntness of it stealing your breath. You had expected anger, maybe resentment, but the question was laced with a quiet sadness, a vulnerability he was trying to hide.
“ What? “ you asked softly.
"You heard me," he said, his voice firm but lacking the edge it had earlier. "Why did you choose him over me?" The question hung in the air between you, the weight of it palpable.
“ Jungkook, “ you breathed.
"It's a simple question," he retorted, his eyes still fixed on you. "Why did you choose another man over me?" The pain in his voice was thinly veiled, a ripple beneath a veneer of indifference
“ I'm sorry “, you muttered and looked away not being able to look into his eyes which were radiating nothing but pain.
He let out a humorless laugh. "Sorry? You're sorry?" His voice was strained, a hint of anger and hurt seeping through. He ran a hand through his hair, the movement a restless release of tension.
"It's been six years, Y/N," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. The use of your name felt like a punch in the gut. "And all you have to say is that you're sorry?" The hurt in his voice was impossible to miss, his usual reserve starting to crack.
You bit your lip, feeling the lump in your throat that threatened to spill out as tears. You hadn't expected this conversation, hadn't prepared for the raw, uncensored emotions that were now on display.
"What do you want me to say then?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The tiredness of the night, the emotional rollercoaster of seeing him again, all of it was taking its toll on your defenses.
He pushed off the coffee table, the sudden movement making you flinch. He started pacing, his steps restless and agitated. "I want you to tell me why!" He suddenly shouted, the sound of his voice bouncing off the walls in the silent apartment.
The outburst took you aback, your heart jumping in your chest. Seeing him like this, so unrestrained with his emotions, was a stark contrast to the stoic, controlled man you had once known.
"Six years!" He continued, his steps getting faster, his anger fueled by something deeper, something you hadn't quite tapped into yet. "Six years spent trying to get over you, to move on with my life. And there you are, married, happy, while I'm-" he cut himself off, his hands balling into fists.
He finally stopped pacing, standing in front of you, his chest heaving with every breath. The air between you was still charged, but the tension had shifted. It was now tinged with longing, with a desperate need that neither of you wanted to acknowledge.
He closed his eyes for a moment, his expression pained, as if trying to gather himself. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, the anger replaced by a raw honesty. "I spent years believing that you still loved me," he said, his eyes fixed on you. "I thought you'd change your mind, remember how good we were together and come back to me."
He let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the silence. "But you didn't. You went on with your life, found someone else, while I was here, stuck in the past, waiting for you.
"And now you're here," he continued, his voice hoarse with all the unsaid words. "Sitting on my couch, wearing my hoodie, as if no time at all has passed."
The irony wasn't lost on you. Here you were, wearing his hoodie, feeling more at home in his apartment than you ever had on your own. The years had melted away, replaced by a feeling of familiarity and longing.
He dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. The sudden proximity, the heat of his palms burning through the fabric of the hoodie, sent a jolt through you.
"Why?" He asked again, but this time the question was different. It was laced with a plea, a desperate need for understanding. His eyes were fixed on you, filled with a myriad of emotions, anger, pain, desire.
You looked down at him, at the man you had loved and left behind. His eyes were searching, his touch tentative yet firm on your thighs. In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet of the early morning.
You reached out, your hand cupping his cheek. His skin was rough under your palm, stubble scratching at your fingertips. His eyes fluttered shut at your touch, a small sign of surrender.
You broke down, not being able see is pain. Feeling immense pain in your heart. “ I'm so sorry “, you muttered.
He placed his hand over yours, holding it tighter against his face, as if afraid you would pull away. His eyes flickered open, a myriad of emotions swimming through them, pain, anger, and an underlying current of longing.
"Why did you choose him?" He asked again, the question repeated like a mantra. But this time, it was softer, less laced with anger and more with a deep, unquenchable need to understand.
You swallowed, the lump in your throat growing bigger with each passing moment. How could you explain, without hurting him even more? How could you put into words the decisions and events that had led you down a different path
“ My–my parents forced me “, that's it, you said the truth you have been hiding so well. The reason feels pathetic, cliche but this is what it is. The actual truth.
The statement seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks. His grip on your hand tightened, and his expression hardened. "Your parents?" He repeated, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
You nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. It was something you had never discussed before, a part of your past you had tried to bury, but here you were, forced to bring it out into the open.
"What do you mean, your parents forced you?" he asked, his voice softer now, filled with a hint of disbelief. "You're a grown woman. They can't force you to marry someone."
'' It wasn’t that simple ", you said.
He huffed out a cynical laugh, the irony not lost on him. "So you just caved in? Let them dictate your life?" His words stung, and you felt a pang of defensiveness rise in your chest. You couldn’t speak at this point. You felt a lump on your throat. You shook your head. .
"Then what?" he pressed on, his eyes searching yours for answers. "What could they have possibly said or done to make you marry someone you didn't love?"
" I didn’t know my marriage was fixed. I got to know the wedding day. They told me it was someone else's wedding but turned out it was mine ", you out.
His eyes widened at your confession, shock and confusion etched on his face. "What do you mean you didn't know?" He asked, bewilderment coloring his voice. "You didn't know you were getting married until the day of?"
" Yes...they took me there and blackmailed me. There were so many people. I wanted to run away but... ", you take a deep breath.
"But..?" he prompted, his grip on your hand painful now. The hurt in his eyes was evident, the realization of what you had gone through hitting him like a wave “
" But I didn't want to embarrass my parents. There were so many people dad said he will kill Himself if i say no "
His expression was a mix of disbelief and anger, his jaw clenching as he tried to process your words. The idea that you had been forced into marriage, that you had sacrificed your own happiness for the sake of your parents' reputation, seemed almost inconceivable to him.
"So let me get this straight," he said, his voice strained. "You married a man you didn't even know because you didn't want to embarrass your parents?"
You could only nod under his hurtful gaze.
He let out a humorless laugh, a bitter sound that echoed the pain he was feeling. "You gave up your life, your future, because of what? Fear of public humiliation? To please your parents?"
The hurt in his eyes was palpable, the knowledge that you had chosen a loveless marriage over a life with him seemed to rip open old wounds.
"You chose them over me," he said, his voice low but filled with an undercurrent of anger. "You chose to please them, even if it meant destroying both our lives."
You flinched at his words, the truth of them hitting you like a physical blow. You had never seen him this way, so filled with anger and pain. But you couldn't deny the truth in his words. You had made a choice, and it had cost you the man you loved.
His hand moved on your thigh, his touch changing from pleading to possessive. He was clinging onto you like a lifeline, his grip on your hand unyielding. "Were you happy with him?" He suddenly asked, his voice rough with suppressed emotions.
You swallowed, the question hitting you like a punch to the gut. The truth was, you weren't happy. You had tried, gods knew you had, but it had never felt right. You had never been able to shake the feeling that something was missing, that you were living a lie.
"Answer me," he said, his eyes burning into yours. He needed to hear it, needed the confirmation of what he suspected to be true.
"No," you whispered, the word barely audible in the still room. "I was never happy with him." The admission was like a weight lifted off your chest, a truth you hadn't allowed yourself to acknowledge until now.
He closed his eyes at your confession, the pain evident on his face. His fingers gripped your thigh tighter, as if he was afraid you would disappear if he let go. "Why?" he asked, his voice rough. "Why didn't you come back to me?"
“ I tried but i Couldn't " ,you cried out.
His eyes snapped open at your confession, a flicker of hope igniting in them. "You tried?" he asked incredulously, his grip on your thigh loosening a fraction
“ You nodded again, “ But the day I tried to run away He found out about you. He was abusive, he is a cheater. Every night he used to bring different girls to our house. I didn't really care, I didn't love him. Hee used to beat me”,you said... Looking straight into his eyes. Trying to show your genuineness. .
His face hardened at your words, the anger in his expression replaced by a cold fury. "He...he used to beat you.." he repeated, his voice thick with suppressed rage
The idea that someone would lay their hands on you, the woman he loved and had lost, was unacceptable to him. He had always seen you as strong and independent, and the idea that someone had violated that had his blood boiling.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice strained. "Why didn't you call me, or reach out? I would've come for you, I would've gotten you away from him."
"I didn't want to burden you," you muttered, the admission coming out before you could stop it. The need to protect him, even after all these years, was still ingrained in you.
He let out a bitter laugh at your words, his eyes narrowing. "Burden me?" he echoed. "You think I would've cared about that? I would've dropped everything and come for you, and you know it."
The rawness in his voice was undeniable. He meant every word, and the knowledge that you had chosen to suffer in silence rather than reach out to him cut him deeper than he'd ever let on.
"Do you have any idea," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, "how many nights I spent staring at my phone, hoping you'd call or text? How many times have I considered reaching out to you, just to see if you were okay?"
You were silent, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You had thought cutting him out of your life would spare him the pain of seeing you with another man, but in doing so, you had caused him even more suffering.
"And now," he continued, his voice gaining strength, "you show up at my doorstep, wearing my hoodie, smelling like you, looking like you...and tell me you stayed in a loveless, abusive marriage because you didn't want to embarrass your parents?"
The anger in his voice was laced with something else now, a raw, visceral hurt that had been bubbling beneath the surface. He seemed to be at a loss, his grip on your thigh loosening as he grappled with the storm of emotions raging inside of him.
"You've always been too damn stubborn, you know that?" he suddenly blurted out, his words tinged with anger and anguish. "Always trying to shoulder everything alone, never letting anyone in, even the person who loves you the most."
The mention of love hit you like a physical blow. He was talking about himself, you realized. The person who loved you the most, the one person you had pushed away, leaving him to suffer in your absence.
"I would've helped you," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "I would've protected you. Hell, I would've killed him for putting his hands on you. But you didn't give me a chance, did you? You just shut me out and married a man you didn't love."
His words were like a slap in the face, a brutal honesty you had tried so hard to avoid confronting. He was right, you had shut him out, choosing the easy way out over a life with the man you loved.
"God, the thought of you with him..." he continued, his jaw clenched as if physically repressing the thought. "Of him touching you, kissing you...it makes me sick."
The jealousy in his voice was undisguised, the thought of another man having you, touching you, when he had been deprived of that privilege for years, was intolerable to him.
He suddenly pushed himself off the floor, standing up, his movements filled with pent-up frustration. He raked a hand through his messy hair, tousling it further, his eyes never leaving yours.
"I should've fought for you," he said, his voice tight. "I should've forced you to talk to me, to listen to me. But I didn't. I let you walk away, and now....now, it's too late."
The weight of those words hung heavy in the air, the finality of them echoing through the silence. Too late. The idea that the window to repair what had been lost, to regain the love and happiness you had once shared, was closing, was a harsh truth to swallow.
A long, heavy silence fell between you, the only sound the ticking of the clock and your ragged breathing. He continued to pace back and forth, a restless tiger caged in a too-small enclosure. His face was a mask of conflicting emotions, anger, hurt, yearning, warring for dominance.
You felt a tear escape, trailing down your cheek. He had always been so passionate, so intense with his feelings, and seeing him like this, vulnerable yet unyielding, was a painful reminder of what you had given up.
He stopped his pacing, his gaze flickering to the tear on your cheek. His eyes darkened, the sight of your crying fueling his anger and his anguish. He moved closer to you again, his steps measured, as if drawn to you against his own will.
He reached out, wiping the tear off your cheek with his thumb. His touch was electric, sending a jolt through you. The gesture was tender, at odds with the raw anger that still simmered beneath the surface.
"Don't cry," he whispered, his voice strained. "Don't you dare cry. Not after everything you've put me through." His thumb lingered on your cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive.
His proximity was overwhelming, the scent of his skin, the familiar warmth of his body sending your senses into overdrive. You were suddenly hyper aware of his presence, the way his body leaned into yours, the slight hitch in his breathing.
He suddenly leaned closer, his words a whispered demand in your ear. "Who is he?" he asked, his voice low and filled with a mixture of anger and possessiveness.
You felt a shiver run down your spine at his proximity. His breath was warm against your skin, his body, which was almost touching yours, a source of heat and comfort that you had longed for for years.
You knew he was talking about your husband. The man you had married, the one who had hurt you, the one who had taken your place. You swallowed, the name on your lips feeling like a betrayal.
"His name is..." you began, the words sticking in your throat. Saying his name in front of Jungkook felt like a sacrilege, as if you were giving him a place in your life that Jungkook had once occupied.
"Say it." He prompted, his voice stern. He was determined to get an answer, to acknowledge the reality of your marriage, however much it pained him.
His reaction was immediate. The name, uttered in your soft voice, seemed to hit him like a physical blow. His body went taut, his fingers that were gently caressing your cheek suddenly gripping your jaw, almost painfully.
"Minho," he repeated, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. He was looking at you intently, his gaze fixated on you as if trying to burn the name into his memory, as if by doing so he could somehow make it less real.
His grip on your jaw didn't loosen, he held you fiercely, possessively, as if trying to anchor you to him physically as well as emotionally. The pain and anger were still there, but slowly morphing into a desperate need, a raw need to possess you, make you his again.
You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in his muscles as he held you in place. His eyes were darkened, the usually sparkling irises almost black with a mixture of fury and desire.
"Did he touch you like this?"
His voice barely above a murmur. His fingers, still on your jaw, moved lower, tracing the line of your neck, lingering on the pulse point at your throat.
You shivered at his touch, your body responding to him involuntarily. No, you wanted to say. No, he never touched me like this. But the words stuck in your throat, replaced by a whimper that escaped your lips against your will.
His eyes flickered at the sound, a low growl escaping his lips. He understood, without you having to utter a word, that Minho had never touched you like he was touching you now. The knowledge seemed to fuel his need, his fingers trailing lower, tracing patterns on your collarbone.
"Did he kiss you here?" he suddenly asked, his fingers lingering on the sensitive skin of your collarbone. His hot breath ghosted over your skin, his lips almost touching, yet hovering a mere centimeter away.
You couldn't form words anymore, your mind foggy with a wave of sensations that were overwhelming in their intensity. The proximity of his lips, the heat of his body, the possessive touch of his fingers - it was all too much. You let out another small, needy whimper, your eyes fluttering shut. No.
He chuckled, the sound a low, rough rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He was well aware of the effect he was having on you, the way your body had responded to his touch, the way your breath hitched and your pulse sped up.
He tilted your chin up, bringing your face closer to his. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and you could see the struggle in them. He was fighting a battle within himself, torn between anger, hurt, and the deep, raw need to claim you as his again.
"Look at me," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. When you met his gaze, he leaned even closer, his lips hovering above yours, a breath apart.
His breath was hot against your skin, the faint scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. The proximity was electrifying, the anticipation of his kiss almost too much to bear. But he didn't close the gap, he was drawing it out, making you desperate for his touch, his lips.
His breathing was ragged now, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. He was barely holding onto his restraint, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he was forcibly restraining himself from capturing your lips in a wild, almost feral kiss.
"Tell me," he murmured, his lips just barely skimming yours, "did he kiss you like this?" His fingers moved lower, tracing the soft skin of your décolletage, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
You were completely flustered, your mind refusing to form coherent thoughts. He was so close, his body pressed against yours, his touch igniting a fire within you that had been dormant for years. But that question, that simple question sent a wave of shame through you. You knew the answer, and it pained you to admit it.
You shook your head, the gesture small but significant. No, he never kissed me like this. As soon as the word left your lips, he captured them in a bruising kiss, claiming your mouth with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperation.
The kiss was fierce, primal. He claimed your mouth like a man starved, every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, filled with a passion that was bordering on feral. Your body reacted instinctively, arching into him, your hands coming up to bury themselves in his hair.
He groaned into your mouth, the sound rough and guttural. His hands, still on your body, roamed over your curves, caressing, possessing, as if he was trying to reacquaint himself with every inch of you.
The kiss was relentless, as if he was trying to erase any trace of another man's touch from your skin. He was devouring you, taking what he perceived to be his, unapologetically, passionately.
Your mind was swimming, your thoughts consumed by the pleasure of his kiss, the taste of him in your mouth, the feel of his hands on your body. It was all too much, the years of separation, the pent up emotions, the need, the desire, all coming to a head in that moment.
He finally pulled back, panting heavily, his eyes wild, his lips wet and puffy from the intensity of the kiss. He didn't let you go, keeping you close, his body still pressed against yours, as if he was afraid you would slip away again.
His chest was heaving, his heart pounding against your own. You felt his hardness, evidence of his desire for you, pressed against your hip, and it sent a thrill through you, a wave of need and want that was almost primal.
He watched you for a moment, his gaze flickering across your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your half-lidded eyes, your swollen lips. The sight seemed to excite him even more, and he pulled you even closer, his hands gripping your hips tightly.
"You're mine," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "You've always been mine. I don't care if you married him, if he touched you, I don't care. You're mine." He repeated the words as if he was trying to convince himself, his possessiveness bordering on possessive.
Your heart ached at the possessiveness in his words, but deep down, you found it comforting. You had missed the way he claimed you, the certainty in his voice, the way he made you feel desired and wanted, even after all these years.
He suddenly dipped his head, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, just below your ear. He sucked gently on your flesh, his teeth grazing the area, leaving bruises in his wake.
He continued to lavish attention on your neck, his lips, teeth, and tongue working together to drive you crazy. "You have no idea," he mumbled, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. ""No idea how many nights I've dreamt of this, of having you in my arms again."
His words were making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. His lips were hot, his tongue was torturous, the scrape of his teeth on your skin a delicious blend of pleasure and pain. You were trapped in a haze of sensation, unable to do anything but feel, but experience the onslaught of his affections.
He suddenly moved lower, his lips trailing over your collarbone, then the valley between your breasts, still covered by your shirt. You arched your back involuntarily, a gasp escaping your lips as he found a particularly sensitive spot. He chuckled, the sound low and filled with satisfaction.
This is wrong, Jungkook,“, you say but the truth is you don’t care anymore. HHis fingers found the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath and tracing patterns on your stomach. He didn't reply, his focus entirely on your body, on each gasp and shiver he caused.
You were rapidly losing control, your body responding to his touch with a mind of its own. His fingers were slowly, torturously, inching higher, trailing up your ribcage, sending sparks of pleasure through you. But his words echoed in your mind, this is wrong.
You knew it was wrong, but your body didn't care. It had been starving for his touch, his attention, for what felt like an eternity. You wanted him, you needed him, and all thoughts of right and wrong had flown out of the window.
He suddenly pushed your hoodie up, exposing your bare stomach to his gaze. His hands gliding over your skin as if memorizing every contour, every dip and curve.
You gasped as his hands found the edge of your inner, his fingers lingering there for a moment, as if asking for permission. You were so far gone that you didn't think, you just acted, arching your back in a silent invitation.
He quickly removed the rest of your hoodie, discarding it on the floor. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in the sight of you in just your inner and pants. He let out a low, guttural sound, his fingers tracing a path from your stomach upwards, over the fabric of your bra.
"So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "God, you have no idea how long I've waited to see you like this again." His hands moved down to your hips, his grip firm as he pulled you flush against his body.
You could feel every hard plane of his body against you, the heat of his skin, the evidence of his arousal pressing against your hip, igniting a fire within you. You were both breathing raggedly now, the air around you thick with tension and need.
He suddenly lifted you up, as if you weighed nothing, setting you on the edge of the desk. You gasped at the sudden movement, your hands automatically gripping the edge to keep your balance. He stepped between your legs, his body pressing against yours, trapping you against the desk.
His lips found your skin again, his teeth grazed your shoulder, his tongue traced the valley of your throat. His hands were everywhere, roaming over your body, caressing, claiming. You were lost in a sea of sensation, your mind overloaded with the sheer intensity of his touch.
"I swear to God," he muttered into your skin, "if you had let him touch you like this, I would've lost my mind." His hands were on your thighs now, moving higher, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
You could only respond with a small, needy whine, unable to form coherent words. His touch was driving you wild, each graze of his fingers sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You were completely at his mercy, your body arching into his, desperate for more.
He pushed your legs open wider, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips finding your earlobe. "Tell me," he whispered, his voice a rough murmur, "tell me he never made you feel like this. Tell me he never made you shiver and moan and beg like this."
You couldn't deny it, even if you wanted to. No, Minho never did this to you. He was too formal, too cold, he never made you feel the way Jungkook did. You shook your head, the movement making your hair brush against his cheek.
"That's right," he murmured, his lips moving down your jaw. "That's my girl." His hands pushed up your skirt, his fingers trailing over your inner thighs, getting close to the place you needed him the most.
You were a bundle of nerves, each touch sending waves of pleasure through you. You were so close to begging, so close to pleading for more, but you knew he wanted to hear it. He wanted you to admit that you wanted him, that you had missed him just as much as he had missed you.
You tried to speak, but all that escaped your lips was a strangled moan. His fingers were so close, but not quite there, teasing you, driving you insane. "Jungkook, please," you finally managed to gasp out, your voice shaky, breathless.
His reaction was immediate. At the sound of his name, pleading and desperate from your lips, something snapped inside him. His fingers moved, finding the edge of your underwear, slipping beneath the fabric. You couldn't help but arch your back at the feeling, a gasp escaping your lips.
"God, you're so wet," he groaned into your ear, his fingers finding the most sensitive spot, rubbing gently, coaxing a gasp out of you
You were coming undone, your body responding to him in ways you didn't remember it could. You felt like you were on fire, your skin burning under his touch, your mind hazy with pleasure.
His lips found your neck again, and you could feel his breath in your ear, ragged and hot, his voice a low growl. "You're mine. You always will be. I don't care who you marry, who you lie with, who you kiss. You're mine, and I am never letting you go again."
His words were possessive, almost feral, and they only heightened your pleasure. You were lost in a whirlwind of sensations, the feeling of his body against yours, his touch on your skin, his words in your ear. You were his, completely and utterly
His fingers moved, his touch rougher now, more desperate, as if he was trying to claim every piece of you, every thought, every feeling. "Tell me," he demanded, his voice low and urgent, "say my name. Say I'm the only one who makes you feel like this."
"Jungkook," you gasped, your voice a shaky whisper. "You're the only one. No one else. Only you." The words were torn from you, a confession that you had been holding back for so long.
He let out a guttural sound, the sound filled with a mixture of triumph and satisfaction. "That's right," he murmurs, his lips moving back to your neck. "You're mine. Always have been, always will be."
His mouth found yours again, the kiss demanding, possessive. His tongue tangled with yours, his hands roaming over your body. You were completely overwhelmed, the room filled with the sound of ragged breathing, the rustle of fabric
You felt him suddenly pull your legs further apart, positioning himself between them.
His body was pressed against yours, his hardness a stark reminder of his desire for you. His hands were on your hips now, holding you in place as he rocked against you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.
"I'm going to take you," he mutters, his voice a low, urgent whisper. "I'm going to make you scream my name until you forget who you are." His hands moved to your buttons, roughly undoing them, his movements impatient, urgent.
You let him, too gone to resist, too lost in the feeling of his body against yours. The room was filled with the sound of buttons popping, fabric tearing, and your own gasps and moans.
He was stripping you bare now, his eyes darkened with desire, his touch relentless. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice thick with need. "And I'm going to show you that every night, until you never even think about pretending to be another man's wife.
You barely registered his words, your mind overcome with sensation. You were burning up, your body a pool of molten pleasure. You wrapped your legs around him, a silent plea, a silent invitation.
He reacted to your movement instantly, his hands gripping your thighs, his body pressing against you. "You want me," he growled in your ear, "you need me. Say it." His voice was rough, filled with domination, a stark contrast to the gentle, kind boy he had been years ago.
You didn't hesitate, the words slipping out of you in a gasp, "I need you. I want you. I've always wanted you." And it was the truth, the raw, primal truth that you had kept buried for so long.
He didn't waste a moment. His lips captured yours again, his tongue claiming your mouth. His body moved against yours, his hardness rubbing against you in just the right way. You were on the brink of losing control, and he knew.
He suddenly pushed you down onto the desk, your back hitting the wood with a thud. His body followed, covering yours, trapping you beneath him. His lips found your neck again, his teeth scraping across your skin. "I'm going to give you everything," he growled, his voice low and rough, "everything that other men couldn't give you, everything you've been craving."
You could only respond with a moan, trapped under his body, overwhelmed by his presence, his touch, his scent. He was wild, untamed, animalistic in his need for you, and you were helpless to do anything but surrender.
His hands were everywhere, roaming over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. They found your undergarments, a thin, lace fabric that was all that separated you from him. He paused, looking down at you, his eyes smoldering. "These," he muttered, "these need to go."
You could only nod, your mind too hazy with pleasure to form words. He didn't wait, his hands impatient, rough as they tore at the fabric, ripping it away from your body, discarding it on the floor. His hands were immediately back on your skin, roaming over your exposed skin, as if trying to claim every inch of you.
"God, you're so beautiful," he whispered, his hands gliding up your thighs, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his voice. "I've dreamed about this, about having you like this, for so long."
His lips found your stomach, trailing kisses down your skin, his tongue darting out to taste you. You arched your back involuntarily, a gasp escaping your lips, your hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders.
His hands were on your hips now, holding you in place, as he worshipped your body with his mouth. He was gentle, yet possessive, his touch rough but reverent, as if he was trying to convey all the months, all the years of waiting and longing in his kisses.
"Please," you finally gasped out, your voice a strangled plea, "please, I need you." You were burning up, desperate for more, your body begging for release.
He didn't respond with words. Instead, he shifted his body, positioning himself between your legs. You could feel him there, hard and ready, the tip of him just brushing against your entrance. He paused, his eyes meeting yours, his gaze filled with a mix of need and something else, something more primal, more intense. "You're mine," he muttered again, his voice rough,
His words sent a shiver down your spine, his possessive tone only adding to the intensity of the moment. You were both too far gone, too deep in your need and desire to resist any longer.
He gripped your hips tightly, his eyes locked on yours, as if asking for permission one last time. His restraint was hanging by a thread, his body taut with tension, ready to snap at any moment.
You met his gaze, your eyes dark with desire, your body burning with need. "Yes," you whispered, your voice a needy gasp. "Please, Jungkook, take me."
His name on your lips was his undoing. He let out a guttural growl, his control snapping. In one swift movement, he pushed into you, filling you
You gasped out loud as he filled you, the feeling so overwhelming, so intense.
Your body arched against his, your hands gripping his shoulders, anchoring you to reality. This was more than you'd ever felt, more than you'd ever imagined. It was everything and nothing at the same time, a raw, intense need that consumed you both.
He started to move, his pace wild, his movements desperate, as if he was trying to claim every part of you, to erase any hint of the other man in your life. His lips found your neck again, his teeth grazing your neck.
His movements were relentless, possessive, as if he was trying to make up for lost time, for the years you'd spent apart. Your hands were on his back, your nails digging into his skin, leaving trails of red, marks of your own to claim him as yours.
The room was filled with a chorus of ragged breaths, moans and muttered curses. The desk creaked beneath you, the force of his movements enough to rock it against the wall. He was wild, untamed, a stark contrast to the boy you had grown up with.
And yet, beneath the wildness and possession, there was something else, something tender and gentle. You could see it in his eyes, in the way he murmured your name against your skin, his voice thick with emotion, as if he couldn't believe you were finally back in his arms.
"You're mine," he muttered again and again, his breath hot against your ear, as if he couldn't say it enough, as if he needed to remind you, and himself, that you belonged to each other.
"Yours," you echoed, your voice a shaking gasp, your body arching in response to his touch. "I'm yours, Jungkook. Only yours."
He groaned at your words, the sound deep and guttural, as if they had unleashed something feral in him. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough, his movements getting wilder, more desperate.
"I'm yours," you repeated, your voice a breathy moan, your thoughts swirling in a haze of pleasure. "Only yours, always yours."
He didn't reply, his mouth finding yours again, his kiss deep, possessive, as if he was trying to claim you, body and soul. His movements started to lose their rhythm, becoming wild, frantic, as if he was reaching the edge of his control.
"Don't stop," you gasped against his lips, your hands clinging to his shoulders, your body burning with need. "Please, don't stop."
His pace quickened, his movements wild and desperate, as if he was chasing something, pushing you both towards the edge. "I'm going to make you forget," he growled in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, "make you forget everything except me. Only me."
You were on the verge of losing control, your body a maelstrom of sensations, your mind a blur of pleasure and need. You were teetering on the edge, about to free-fall, and you knew he was right there with you.
"Jungkook," you moaned, his name a desperate plea, a prayer on your lips. "Please, I can't...I need..." You didn't even know what you were asking for, what you were pleading for. All you knew was that you needed him, needed more, needed all of him.
He understood, his own control hanging by a thread. "Let go," he whispered, his voice a rough, urgent plea. "Let go, baby. Let go for me."
You didn't know how to respond, your body already on the edge, ready to snap. His words, the raw, possessive need in his voice, were the final push you needed. Your body convulsed, your back arching off the desk, your hands clutching onto him, as if he was your lifeline, the only thing keeping you grounded in the storm of sensations. He followed you over the edge moments later, your name torn from his lips in a guttural
You were lost in the onslaught of sensations, your body trembling, your mind blank. Slowly, the room came back into focus, the sound of your ragged breaths filling the room, intermingled with the sound of his own breaths, just as ragged, just as spent.
He was still holding you, his body pressed against yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You could feel his heart rate slowly returning to normal, the rapid beat slowing down, the rhythm evening out.
You felt wrung out, spent, as if you had run a race you didn't realize you were in. You were wrapped up in each other's arms, your bodies intertwined, your hair and clothes messy, as if you had been caught in a whirlwind..
He didn't pull away, his embrace still protective, still possessive. His fingers traced slow, gentle circles on your skin, as if he was mapping out every inch of you, as if he couldn't bear to let you go.
"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a low murmur against your skin. "You've always been mine. And tonight, I won't let you forget it."
You didn't respond, your mind still murky from the intensity of what had just happened. You were too spent to argue, too sated to do anything but lean into his embrace, letting him hold you.
He seemed to sense your fatigue, your body's need for rest. He shifted his weight, lifting you gently into his arms, as if you weighed nothing at all. He carried you over to the couch in the corner of the room, settling down with you cradled in his lap.
You let him tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his arms around you, his presence soothing, comforting. You were too exhausted to speak, your body and mind in a state of blissful exhaustion. All you could do was nuzzle into him, seeking the comfort of his warmth, his touch.
He didn't speak either, content to just hold you, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. You could feel his breath against your hair, a steady, soothing beat. The room was quiet, the only sound was the soft rustle of fabric and your combined breaths, evening out in synchronization.
Eventually, your eyes started to flutter closed, the exhaustion taking over. His arms tightened around you, as if sensing that you were drifting off, as if he was desperate to keep you close, even in sleep.
"Sleep," he whispered, his voice a gentle command, a tender plea. You felt his lips brush against your forehead, a soft, affectionate gesture. "I'll watch over you. Rest."
You were too tired to protest, your body succumbing to the call of sleep. Your eyes closed, your breaths deepened, and you felt yourself falling into the welcoming arms of oblivion. The last thing you heard was his voice, a comforting murmur.
He held you close, his arms never letting go, his body a solid, protective presence. He didn't move, didn't shift, just stayed there, holding you as you slept, watching over you like a silent guardian.
The night slowly gave way to dawn, the faint light of the morning sun seeping through the window, casting a soft glow on the room. Yet, he stayed, his embrace unwavering, his watch over you unbroken. You slept deeply, undisturbed by the changing light, safe in his arms.
As the room gradually grew brighter, the sunlight slowly chasing away the shadows, you began to stir, awakening slowly, reluctantly leaving the peaceful realm of sleep. You felt the slight soreness in your body, the after-effects of the intensity of the previous night, but there was also a warm, soft comfort, a sense of being encircled, protected.
You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting to the faint morning light. You were still in his lap, his arms securely around you, his chin resting on your head. He was wide awake, his gaze fixed on you, as if he had been silently watching over you the whole night.
His eyes met yours, a soft, warm smile curving up the corners of his mouth. "Morning, sleepyhead," he said, his voice a soft rumble. His fingers traced a gentle line down your cheek, a tender gesture.
You smiled back, still drowsy, still not fully awake. But you felt a sense of peace, of contentment, as you sat there in his lap, his arms around you, his gaze on you. It was as if you had come home, after a long, tiring journey, and finally, you were where you b
He gently pushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek, as if he couldn't bear to let go. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice a low, gentle murmur.
You thought about the question, taking stock of your body, your mind. You were sore, but it was pleasantly sore, a reminder of what had happened the previous night. "I'm okay," you replied, your voice still sleepy, "just a bit sore."
He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and possessiveness. "You'll be feeling sore for a while," he teased, his grip on you tightening slightly, as if he was trying to emphasize his point.
You laughed softly, not denying that he was right. You leaned into him, savoring his warmth, the solidity of his body. "Worth it," you muttered, your cheek resting against his chest.
"Damn right it was," he murmured, his voice low and gruff. His hand moved up to your hair, his fingers tangling in the unruly strands, as if he simply couldn't keep his hands off you.
You closed your eyes again, enjoying the feeling of his fingers in your hair, the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. You could stay here forever, you thought, in this moment of peace, this brief bubble of time where it was just the two of you, the world outside forgotten.
He was silent for a few moments, his hand still in your hair, his other arm wrapped snugly around you, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. You could almost feel the thoughts running through his mind, the things he wanted to say but hadn't yet.
Finally, he broke the silence. "Last night..." he started, his voice a low murmur. "Last night was...it was everything, baby. You have no idea what you-" His voice trailed off, as if he couldn't quite find the words for what he was trying to say.
You opened your eyes again, tilting your head back slightly to look up at him. His face was a mix of emotions - possessive, tender, loving. He was struggling, trying to convey something that he couldn't seem to verbalize.
"Last night," he tried again, his voice still thick with emotion, "last night just...just made me realize how empty the years without you have been. I forgot what it felt like to hold you, to touch you, to feel you respond under my hands. I forgot...I forgot what it was like to feel alive."
His words were spoken so quietly, as if he was confessing something he'd been keeping hidden for years.
"Jungkook," you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. His words, his raw, unfiltered feelings, were overwhelming. This wasn't the confident, cocky man you had grown up with. This was a man stripped bare, a man who was finally pouring out all the pent-up emotions, all the years of longing and need
"Don't leave again," he said suddenly, his voice a low, urgent plea. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as if he was trying to meld your body against his, as if he was scared to let you go. "Don't ever leave again. I wouldn't survive it."
Your heart ached at his words, the raw, desperate plea. You knew he was putting himself out there, exposing his vulnerabilities to you. You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I'm not going anywhere," you assured him, your voice soft but sure. "I'm here, Jungkook. I'm staying."
His eyes met yours, his gaze intense, searching. It was as if he was trying to assure himself that you were real, that this wasn't some dream he was about to wake up from. "Promise me," he whispered, the simple command infused with an undercurrent of fear, of insecurity.
You held his gaze, your thumb still stroking his cheek, your mind filled with determination. "I promise," you said, your voice firm, steady. "I won't run. I won't leave. I'm here, and I'm st
A sense of relief washed over him, the tension in his body easing slightly. He let out a shaky breath, as if he had been holding it in, as if he had been waiting for your promise. His hand that was tangled in your hair tightened, his grip possessive, as if he was trying to anchor himself to you, to reality. "Good," he murmured, his voice regaining some of its familiar, confident tone. "Because once I have you, I'm not letting go. I'll never let you run again, baby."
You smiled at his words, your heart swelling with affection for him. You knew it was a veiled threat, a subtle warning, but you didn't feel threatened. Instead, you felt a sense of comfort in his possessiveness, in his desire to keep you close. "I'm not going anywhere," you repeated, your voice firm, your eyes never leaving him. "I'm staying, Jungkook. I'm staying with you."
He gave a satisfied nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He seemed to have calmed a bit, the earlier tension and insecurity replaced by a more familiar, cocky attitude. "Damn right you are," he said, his voice a low, almost teasing rumble. "You're mine now, baby. And I don't share what's mine."
" But minho ",you muttered.
At the mention of the other man, Jungkook's demeanor changed in an instant. His hold on you tightened, his body tensing under you. His eyes darkened, his jaw clenching, and a low growl escaped his throat.
"I don't want to hear about him," he growled, his voice a low, threatening rumble. "I don't want to hear his name coming from your lips. You're not his. You're mine."
You could feel his possessive grip on you, the way he was holding you as if he was claiming you, marking you as his. You knew his words weren't a request, but a command. And despite the possessiveness, you couldn't help the way your heart skipped a beat, your stomach fluttering with a strange mix of fear and pleasure at his assertion of o
“ But he is still my husband legally “, you said. As much as you hate to admit it this is the truth.
Jungkook's eyes narrowed at your words, his jaw clenching even tighter. He seemed to bristle at the reminder, his possessive instincts rising to the surface, making his grip on you almost painful. "Not for long," he growled, his voice harsh, almost menacing. "You're mine, and I'll be damned if I let him stand in the way of that again."
You felt your heart skip a beat, his words sending a strange mix of emotions through you. There was fear, yes, but there was also a thrill, a sort of perverse pleasure at the depth of his possessiveness, his determination to have you, no matter the cost.
"Jungkook..." you began, but he cut you off, his voice a low, harsh whisper. "No. Don't even try." His arms were still wrapped around you tightly, his body coiled tight, as if he was ready to pounce at any moment. "You're mine. You've always been mine. I'm not letting you go this time. I can't. I won't."
There was something wild, almost feral in his eyes, a raw possessiveness that was both terrifying and thrilling. He pulled you closer to him, his body flush against yours, as if he was trying to eliminate any space between you. "You understand, don't you, baby?" he murmured, his voice low and rough. "You understand that you belong to me. No one else, just me."
You felt a rush of heat flood your body at his words, his possessive tone seeping into your skin, making your heart race, your breath catch. You were trapped in his arms, his body surrounding yours in a tight, overwhelming embrace. And even though there was a part of you that was scared, there was another part that was undeniably stirred, aroused by his intensity, his determination.
" Let's run away ", he said.
You paused at his words, your mind swirling with conflicting emotions. He was asking you to run away, to leave everything behind and start anew with him. It was a proposition that both excited, and terrified, you. There was a thrill in the idea of being with him, of building a life together. But there was also a nagging fear, a sense of duty and obligation that was holding you back.
"Jungkook..." you began, your voice hesitant, uncertain. "I...I don't know...I can't just-"
He cut you off, his eyes darkening with impatience. "Don't think about it, baby. Don't overthink it. Just say yes. Say yes and let's run away together. Just you and me, starting over."
His voice was urgent, desperate. There was a pleading edge to it, a hint of vulnerability that you'd never seen before. He was pleading with you, his eyes boring into yours, searching your face for a sign, any sign, that you'd say yes.
"We could have everything, baby," he persisted, his arms tightening around you again. "We could have a fresh start, a new life together. No minho, no drama, just us."
You could feel the heat of his body against yours, his words echoing in your ears, his presence drowning out all rational thought.
"Just say yes, baby," he murmured again, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Say yes, and I'll give you everything you've ever wanted. I'll give you the world, baby. Just say yes. Say yes and let's go, right now, just you and me."
You could feel your defenses crumbling, your rationality slipping away under the onslaught of his words, his touch, his presence. He was overwhelming you, his intensity drowning out your doubts, his possessiveness stoking the fire within you.
"But...what about...everything else?" you managed to whisper.
"Everything else can burn," he said, his voice rough and determined. "Everything else can goddamn burn, baby. All that matters is us, the two of us together. You and me, baby. We'll build a new life together, a better life. Just say yes."
The room seemed to spin around you, his words echoing in your ears like a siren's song. He was offering you a chance to start over, to be with him, to build a life together. The fear, the obligation, all of it seemed so trivial compared to the intensity of his plea, the raw, burning need in his eyes.
"Jungkook..." you whispered, your heart hammering in your chest. "I..."
"Say yes, baby," he pleaded, his voice urgent, his arms pulling you closer still. "Say yes and let's go, now, just you and me."
He was so close now, his body pressed against yours, his face mere inches away from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, could almost taste the desperation in his breath.
Your heart was racing, your mind a chaotic mix of emotions. But through it all, one clear, burning need was rising to the surface, fueled by his intensity, his single-minded determination.
"Y-yes," you heard yourself saying, the words almost a gasp. "Yes, Jungkook, I'll go with you. I'll run away with you."
His eyes lit up, a feral, possessive gleam in them. A savage, almost feral breath escaped his lips as he claimed your mouth in a hard, possessive kiss. It was a kiss that was more a mark than a kiss, a claiming gesture that sent a shiver down your spine.
"Thats it ," he whispered against your lips, his voice raw, his breath ragged. "You're mine, baby. You're all mine now. We will send divorce papers to that bastard soon."
He pulled you even closer, his body pressing you into him, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands beginning to explore your body with a fervor. Everywhere he touched, everywhere he kissed, was claimed, marked as his.
From that moment on, everything changed. With your decision to run away with Jungkook, you had stepped into uncharted territory, leaving behind your old life, your old obligations, your old identity. You were no longer a wife, a person with ties and responsibilities.
You were now a fugitive, a partner in crime, a woman who belonged wholly to Jungkook as he is still yours you have nothing to fear about.
