Bang Chan: It really has that feeling of a photo youâd see in your parentsâ old album [dad mode activated]
BANG CHAN, LEE KNOW & JEONGIN [RACHA LOG] Ep. 21
life was supposed to go forward the way you had always been told.
find someone, fall in love, get married, have kids.
that was the formula - the routine of every day life that you, yourself, had agreed to. it was supposed to be easy and carefree, the type of love that felt natural and yet definite. it was supposed to be certain.
jeon jungkook.
the love of your life. no one, nothing, could compare to him; the one constant in your life since you were no older than five. two years older than you, he had been the object of your infatuations even then, and though you both harboured a crush on one another as you grew up, it was only when you were 14 that you both actually pursued something.
you both came from broken homes, with your parents entangled in the world of drugs and abuse, his absent more times than present. you had each other though, and that was all either of you had ever really needed - that much had been true for years. it didnât take long to fall in love with him, not when he treated you like blooming flowers in the first touch of spring; you were more than just his girl. you were his y/n.
no one blinked when he proposed, everyone half expecting it, and neither of you had wanted to wait to plan a lavish wedding when you were both the only constants in each otherâs lives. and so, with cheap rings, a random dress you had found at the bottom of your wardrobe and his scuffed shoes - you had become husband and wife.
jungkook was the best partner you could have ever asked for. money was tight in the beginning as he threw himself into his job, making sure he had enough to spoil you rotten even if that meant coming home exhausted. it killed you to see him working so hard, but he never complained, not even once. it was done in the pursuit of his sweet wife, and therefore just.
he quickly began climbing the ranks, his intelligence unmatched, his speed and efficiency making him a force to be reckoned with. in a mere seven years, he had managed to go from the lowest ranking worker in the company right to head office, before formally being announced as ceo.
it was unheard of. people like him, people like you, they didnât live like this. it felt like over night your entire life had changed, as the tiny, one bed apartment transformed into a penthouse suite in your cityâs most reputable area, your beaten down car now more lavish than you could ever dream of. your clothes - silks, linens and luxurious patterns. you were a changed woman, all at the hands of your husband.
that was when the cracks had began to form.
the late nights began, jungkook holed up in his office for far longer than anyone else at the company, stacks of paper all around as he tried to crack numbers before the next day could bring its own workload. you didnât mind at first, more so worried over anything else.
you packed late dinners, going up to his office and eating them with him just to keep him company, to ground him which he needed more than you could ever realise. he would sit you on his lap as he worked, all whilst you napped peacefully on his shoulder as though this was perfectly normal.
the first few months, it worked. after that, it could no longer hide the gaping hole that had begun to appear.
missed dinners. missed dates. jungkook showing up at two in the morning despite everyone else going home at five in the afternoon - this wasnât normal. wasnât healthy. the amount of arguments that were being caused due to his workaholic nature was alarming, especially considering neither of you had ever even raised your voices to one another prior to this.
your heart was getting heavier and heavier.
not because you doubted his love for you - that wasnât even a question in your mind, that much was certain. if anything, jungkook loved you too much, entirely and wholly, with every single decision made in his life somehow tracing back to you in one way or another. whether it was purchasing things, buying them with the intent of impressing you, making you happy or smile. every opportunity, every signed contract, every bastard fucking meeting that he could feel so deeply in his bones was done with the intention of giving you a life so soft you would never experience hardship again.
that was where the problem lay.
jungkook didnât know how to love in a way that could nurture your relationship through this, and so, he did the only thing he could. he sacrificed.
slowly, painfully, the realisation that somewhere between the neglect, the late nights and unanswered phone calls, your husband had stopped being your husband at all. he had become a mere ghost in your shared home.
the night you had made your decision was one that felt imprinted in your memory.
it was past midnight, the harsh light of your phone reminding you with each passing moment. the rain was harsh too, with it being the middle of autumn, causing you to curl deeper into the covers on your bed but it did nothing to chase the cold away. dinner had long gone cold downstairs, with your housekeeper giving you a long, sad look before leaving to her own home, patting you on the shoulder in comfort.
your heart hurt so fucking much.
your phone was untouched, with messages sent hours prior despite the lack of response.
âwhere are you?â
âare you coming home tonight?â
âjungkook, you promised.â
âi miss you.â
you felt pathetic. humiliation ran up and down your veins at the thought of having to beg for a morsel of attention from your husband, but what else were you supposed to do? what else could you do? loneliness had a tendency to do that to people.
the sound of the front door finally opening had your eyes looking up, no longer staring into space, thinking. overthinking.
jungkook finally stumbled in, hours and hours late, shoulders tense and black coat half wet due to the rain outside. his phone had died hours ago, and his brain was a jumble of numbers and stakeholders, still muttering under his breath over something one of his colleagues had said. he was exhaustion personified.
âbaby.â he exhaled deeply upon the sight of you still up.
1:47am.
you stared at him, unable to focus on anything in particular as your reddened eyes somehow glinted in the moonlit essence of the room. his heart ached.
âyou missed it again.â you whispered, barely audible.
another dinner sat cold. jungkook had noticed it on his way up, muttering a small fuck under his breath, but seeing you now? something had changed, something was different and the sight scared him to death.
âi know, i..â
âyou said youâd be home for six.â
âi know baby, iâm so sorry, we had an emergency shareholders meeting and it was just..fuck.â
âitâs always an emergency.â you muttered bitterly.
the silence that followed felt suffocating to you both.
he carefully placed his things at the door before approaching you slowly, as though you were a wounded fawn struck by an arrow from his own back - it was his fault. he knew that, he could see it.
âiâm trying.â he whispered softly, as he crouched to meet your eyes.
that was the worst thing of all - of course he was trying. you knew he was, you could see it in every single thing he did but that was the part that made it so much more painful. it was unbearable.
tears burned harshly behind your eyes, lip openly trembling as you stared at the only man to have ever felt your affection, the love of your life. the same man that would set himself on fire just to keep you warm, who had done this all for you - even you knew that but, the pain. you werenât sure when loving him had started to hurt this badly.
âi donât need..i donât want any of this, jungkook.â you corrected as your voice cracked, hands gesturing to the too large room. âdonât care about penthouses or cars, or money..â
âitâs not about that.â
âthen what is it about?â you cried, months and months of neglect finally collapsing all at once. âbecause iâm losing you anyway.â
the devastation that appeared on his face would have floored you on any other occasion, but the horrible feeling that had taken over was consuming you from the inside out. you couldnât rid yourself of your thoughts, the looming decision that had grown and grown and grown, so much so that it felt bigger than you in both mind and body. you couldnât stop the tears even if you wanted to.
âi feel so lonely.â you admitted honestly, a broken sob leaving your lips. âyouâre all i have..all iâve ever had and i feel lonely.â
the words physically wounded him as he felt his own tears begin to form, a horrible realisation fluttering through his body - this wasnât fixable. he could see it now, the utter pain in your eyes, the way your body shook as you cried, and though he was crouched in front of you, arms wrapping around you; it wasnât enough.
âiâll fix this. iâll fix this, fuck. y/n..â he shook, holding you so tightly, his heart beating out of his chest. âgive me time. give me a chance. give me something, give me anything.â
you only cried harder at his words, collapsing entirely as the sobs racked through your body violently. you knew he meant it, knew he meant every single word, and you genuinely believed it too but you were tired.
so, so tired.
you knew that the love between you, no matter how deep, could not survive on patched up apologies and promises no longer.
the separation happened three weeks later.
perhaps that was too cruel of you - you should have given him more time, more chances, another opportunity to prove himself to you so he could actually begin repairing something that had already long collapsed before he had ever realised the damage. staying felt too painful, as though you were prodding delicate skin with a million sharpened blades. for once in your entire existence, you chose yourself.
you hated yourself for it.
you could no longer survive off of the memories of who your husband had once been, the once sweet teenage boy who slept on the streets with you just so youâd feel safe from the grasps of your parents. the man who had ran home to tell you about his promotion, who then sobbed in your arms at the mere prospect of getting to give you the life you deserved. oh, how each and every fibre of your being yearned for him, how it knew him by breath alone and yet it wasnât enough. nothing could possibly hurt more.
packing your things nearly killed him. you remembered it vividly.
jungkook stood silently in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching numbly, as though his soul had left his entire body as you packed up remnants of a life once shared with him. cardboard boxes were filled with your books, your makeup, your silly trinkets you had acquired together - the sight of you crying as you packed your wedding album so delicately was enough to have him bite back his own sob, shaking his head at the reality of the situation.
he hadnât stopped you. it was the worst part.
jungkook was intimidating to most; hardened by his life experiences and the struggle he had been raised in, his only priority for the past decade being you. you didnât like to go into his work, knowing he was quite literally a different person there - efficient, yes, but also ruthless. and yet, he stood, watching you as though his eyes couldnât comprehend the scene in front of him, tears wiped harshly from his face in fear that it would only upset you more.
even in moments like this, he put you first.
his hands sat caged on either side of him, as you sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. he wanted nothing more than to pick you up, cradle you, cherish you the way he so desperately wanted but in his love for you came your happiness. he was a man devoted to you, and he couldnât cage you somewhere you no longer felt happy staying - he loved you too much to ever do that.
the divorce proceedings were somehow so much worse.
the media frenzy surrounding jeon jungkook, the elusive ceo who was known for his mysterious persona and dark eyes, was quite literally unbearable. the sudden separation exploded all over the tabloids and the internet, with headlines appearing faster than either of you could keep up with. the hate was too much, to which jungkook stepped in to silence everyone behind the scenes, throwing an insane amount of money at journalists to keep your name out of their filthy mouths. wife or not, you were one half of him and heâd be damned if you were spoken of in anyway that wasnât praiseworthy.
you couldnât even look at him during the hearings.
god, you tried. you wanted to, managing to sneak little glances where you caught him already staring at you, despair all over his face, but you couldnât handle it, tears streaming out of your eyes almost immediately. he knew you loved him. he could see it, clear as day.
he looked sick, as though he hadnât eaten for weeks, the mere sight of you enough to sustain him until the next meeting, where your feet lightly brushed against one another underneath the table in a subconscious way.
he barely spoke, only choosing to actually speak when he was asked a question, but other than that, he spent his time in the meetings staring at you longingly. heâd whisper a soft âdonât cryâ whenever heâd see you tear up, your lip quivering each time you snuck a glance over, despite knowing it was breaking you.
he signed everything over to you immediately. his lawyers had practically choked, eyes wide as he silenced them almost harshly for even suggesting anything otherwise, your own eyebrows pulling together as you tried to reject. you didnât want his money, you didnât want what he had worked so hard for.
the penthouse, the cars, the accounts. every. fucking. thing.
âjungkook..â you had whispered through tears at the table, addressing him for the first time in so long. âi donât want any of this, itâs yours. youâve worked so hard.â
hearing you was enough to provide the energy he had been lacking, the very blood in his bloodstream pumping harder as he shook his head at you, offended.
âi got those things for you. it never belonged to me..was always yours.â he whispered back, causing you to look down with another choked sob.
it was the final hearing that truly cemented the empty hole inside of you.
your hands shook violently, so much so that you were unable to pick up your pen and sign away your marriage, the one thing you needed to do to finally let him go. everyone in the room frowned as they watched you, face flooded with tears as your digits simply refused, as though your body rejected the notion as being entirely unnatural. they all felt pity for you, for both of you - you both were clearly in love, and they couldnât understand the gravity of the situation between you.
jungkook had stood from his side of the table, walking over to you until his hand had softly encapsulated your own, your quiet sobs only growing harsher at the feel of the one person you had been craving for so long. he held it, guiding you to your own, helping you write your name on the dotted line despite every part of his body aching.
ex-husband.
the thought should have killed you.
once it was signed, he held onto your hand, too scared to let go as the documents were taken, your lawyers and his slowly leaving the room, leaving you be. you should have let go, should have pushed him away as he no longer had any tie to you - you werenât married, you werenât together. alas, the thought felt sacrilegious.
instead, he knelt, knees hitting the hardened floor below you as your red eyes met his properly. entirely.
âiâll fix this.â he promised you, voice no longer shaking, as you could hear the depth of his promise to you. âi donât care how long it takes, baby, but youâll come back to me. iâll come back to you better, iâll be worthy. i promise you, y/n.â he whispered.
another sob climbed up your throat, mean and harsh, as your body collapsed against the chair you were sat in, your emotion taking a complete hold over you.
because even then, after everything, you knew his words to be true. you knew home would be waiting.
â
eight months had passed now, and soon came the first touch of summer. the bleak sky had become brighter, clouds hibernating and birds chirping as the world became warmer, accommodating for the transition into what most would describe as a joyous time. unfortunately for you, your body was still recovering from what could only be described as the most traumatic stage of your life thus far.
everything felt unnatural and wrong - you were trying to keep up despite it moving a million miles around you.
even after all this time, your stomach still dropped whenever youâd see anything that referred to him as your ex husband, as though your mind and heart needed a moment to catch up. how could jungkook ever simply become an ex anything to you?
he had existed in your life for so long that removing him felt akin to ripping a vital organ out of your body, all whilst expected to function entirely normally. how could you? you suppose you were failing, really, with the way you moved through life out of necessity instead of want.
the tabloids loved him now more than ever. it was the paradox of tragedy, you assumed, as you knew how badly the world yearned for a broken hearted lover.
the youngest ceo in the countryâs history, a billionaire bachelor - the elusive businessman was on the top of every social hierarchy, whilst people spoke about you in hushed whispers. the only woman to have ever gotten away. who were you? why did you leave? why did he leave you with so much?
he had become so much colder after the divorce, and people picked up on it like rats with forgotten food.
the media had always labelled him as an intimidating man, but now, there was no way of denying it. there was something unsettling about the pictures that were being papped of him, your hungry eyes taking him in top to bottom, nibbling your lip - he looked so different. broad shoulders remained the same, but he seemed bigger, no doubt taking out his pain in the gym. it was the look in his eyes, however, that had your stomach in knots.
he looked dead whilst alive.
jeon jungkook was heartbroken, and the world knew it clear as day.
he had dealt with it the only way he knew how - by burying himself six feet deep into his work, knowing he had nothing to come home to, often times sleeping in his office just so he could ignore the silence of his house.
meanwhile, you had spent the last eight months trying to learn how to exist without him.
the humiliation at first was all you were reminded of, as you realised how deeply you had intertwined into him and vice versa. the silence in your once shared penthouse was so unbearable that you had moved into a tiny two bedroom apartment, using the spare as a storage unit for all of your books. on your nightstand still sat a picture of you both, as you secretly cried over it most nights. you couldnât even sleep unless you wore one of his hoodies, despite his scent having washed off months ago - it was the comfort of knowing you still had a part of your marriage with you.
you missed him in every small, stupid, awful way imaginable.
the feeling of his hand, heavy and strong, on your thigh as he drove you around. the way he would cage you into any surface he could find just to smother you in kisses, or even the way he would whisper into your ear stupid jokes that had you giggling too loudly for the world to hear.
you missed your husband. you missed jungkook.
everyday you battled with the regret of your choice, especially once youâd see the way his under-eyes had sunken with the lack of sleep and yet you couldnât bring yourself to admit it out loud. you couldnât live that way again, not with the neglect - not with your past trauma from your parents.
jungkook knew the gravity of his actions, knew you needed to heal and reason with them before he could come back to you but fuck, it hurt so bad to wait.
sometimes, during your weaker moments, you found yourself searching him into your phone in the dead of night, breathing out an audible sigh of relief at the confirmation he was still openly single. it was pathetic, that much you knew, but it was selfish beyond anything else. so cruel to want the man you left to be alone, simply because he still belonged to you.
you had attempted to rebuild your life slowly, carefully piecing together fragments of yourself that existed before all of this had happened. your days were quieter now, so much lonelier but it was enough to keep your mind from spiralling every second of every waking day.
some habits, however, refused to die.
his contact remained as the only favourited number in your phone, as you spent all of your time rereading old messages, despite it ending in tears. if only you knew he too did the same, with his photo album on his phone his most used app as he stared at you nightly, often falling asleep with your picture shining brightly on his screen.
you still loved him. he loved you even more.
that could never change.
-
the first flowers came on a random tuesday.
you had just experienced one of the worst days youâd had in a while, with a final meeting with one of your clients going to shit after you realised hours of work and designs had somehow corrupted, and then deleted. by the time you had returned home, you were sure the world had seen your teary state, your body heavier than usual.
as you searched your bag for your keys, your eyes peered up, noticing them.
your breath caught.
sitting neatly outside your apartment door. a bouquet, large but elegant - white gardenias. the flowers you had held at not only your wedding, but the ones jungkook would buy you for your anniversary each year.
your flowers.
your chest ached so violently you found yourself gasping for air as your legs gave out below you. you slid down the wall, fingers brushing against the delicate petals as you looked for a note, only to realise there wasnât one. you didnât need to see who they were from, only one person knew you well enough and your heart felt like it had been split into two as you took them in.
it wasnât your anniversary, wasnât any special kind of occasion, and yet here they were. bright, promising, sweet.
your vision blurred with heavy tears as the painful feeling in your body grew, throat tightening with emotion before reaching out and taking a hold of them, breathing the flowers in openly.
the scent alone was enough to destroy you.
he was everywhere, all of the time - even now. especially now.
the flowers had become a norm, a pattern that was only recognisable to you, and completely deniable to any other person looking in. you were smarter than you looked and you knew what was happening, and yet you couldnât bring yourself to call it out.
your favourite restaurant somehow managing to accommodate you always despite the line or packed out reservations list, or the paparazzi that often bullied you for your attention outside of your home mysteriously disappearing. even your car, that you had dented slightly, appeared in perfect condition as you walked down to go to work one morning, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
your chest bloomed with realisation.
jungkook.
he never appeared himself, no. never. it was unsettling really, the reminder that he was powerful and could have things done with a flick of his wrist - he was sure to never make you privy to it, so youâd always feel like he was the same boy you had met all those years ago. now? he had every intention of showing you the empire he had built for you and you alone. he lingered around you and your life like a floating ghost, invisible but permanent. you truly couldnât get rid of him even if you tried.
three weeks later is when you felt yourself reaching breaking point.
for the first time in months, you were finally leaving the house to actually do something for fun. your best friend, yejin, whoâs husband yoongi was ironically jungkookâs best friend, had forced you to come out for a drink. nothing intense, merely a nice bar where the drinks were smooth and the company was good, with slow jazz playing in the back.
exhaustion was heavy in your bones but you listened, doing your best to make yourself look nice despite how dead you felt inside. a little skirt that felt too short and a top that perhaps plunged too low - yejin had deemed you utterly perfect.
sat at the bar, you sipped your drink, wincing lightly as she yapped away about something her coworker had said. you appreciated how she refused to bring jungkook up, knowing that she couldnât breach the topic unless you were the one to bring it up yourself. you hated how badly you wanted to, how desperate you were to find out how he was doing.
she filled the air constantly, like she was terrified of what would happen if your mind caught up to the reality of the situation, instead filling it with nonsense to occupy your demanding thoughts.
you let her.
you even found yourself laughing, the feeling and sound so startling that it reduced you to silence for a full minute afterwards as you welcomed the feeling of actual joy for the first time in so long.
you almost didnât notice the shift in your phone, the slight light radiating from beneath as you had turned it onto its screen earlier in the evening. she, however, paused mid sentence, eyes dropping down to let you know someone was ringing.
nothing could have prepared you for the sight of his name on the screen.
the name, âkookieâ with a large, red heart adorned your phone as humiliation rummaged through you at the realisation you had never even bothered to change his name, the concept too painful to come to terms with. however, yejin all but gasped as she turned to you, eyes widened with an almost excitement.
âanswer it.â she encouraged, hand on your back. âiâll watch your drink.â
you werenât sure what to say, as you nodded, staring down at the screen before shakily sliding off of your seat and heading towards the back entrance, where a smokers area sat empty. your hands shook as you cupped the phone to your chest, taking a seat before looking down at it once more.
he was calling you.
jungkook was fucking calling you.
before you could overthink, you swiped, answering it.
the phone felt hot against your ear, a reminder of what was currently happening as your heart began beating harder than it had in months, your hands shaking. for a second, neither of you spoke.
you could hear faint movement on his end, a shuffling of some sorts before he completely stilled, as though he had pushed everything he was doing to a side at the realisation you had actually answered.
âhi.â
god. your eyes squeezed shut tight almost immediately.
there he was - your jungkook. not the ceo extraordinaire that was plastered on every publication you could find, with dead eyes and a sharp expression. no, this was him. jungkook. your jungkook.
the sound alone nearly brought you to tears. you felt so pathetic.
âhi.â you whispered back, voice cracking.
silence settled again, but not awkwardly. you didnât think an awkward silence was capable of existing between you, not when your bodies were so intertwined and so aware of one another. the distance between you was unnatural, neither of your minds able to comprehend an eight month hiatus enough to understand that this phone call alone shouldnât have been happening.
he exhaled slowly, and your shoulders gently relaxed, your eyes closing momentarily as you imagined him. no doubt still at work, in a suit unbuttoned at the shirt, his tie long forgotten. his tattooed hand running through his hair, ruffling it the way you always would.
âyou answered.â he broke you out of your thoughts.
your chest tightened painfully at the sheer disbelief in his tone.
âyou called.â
a faint huff of amusement left him then, causing you to blink back any emotion that was building in your eyes. it eased you.
âyeah.â he breathed out.
another pause.
you felt so suddenly aware of yourself - your hand reached out to smooth down your hair, adjust your top and skirt, despite knowing he couldnât see you. it was subconscious, as though the thought of him alone was enough to undo you, but his voice? hearing it after so long, directed at you, for you. yours. it was enough to have you soothed for months.
before you could spiral in your thoughts, he spoke again.
âwhere are you?â
âout with yejin.â
âmm.â you shivered at his hum. you had no idea he was so undone at the sound of you too. âa bar?â
âyeah.â
âyou drinking?â
you rolled your eyes, tongue poking your cheek at his curiosity. some things truly had never changed.
âwhy?â you asked, and you could almost hear his grin on the other end. âcanât i ask?â
his tone, smooth. familiar. fuck, it did things to you, and you could feel your thighs pressing together just listening to him. secretly, your favourite part of jungkook was how possessive he had always been, and even in moments like this where he hid it under a layer of calmness, you could recognise it instantly.
it reminded you of when heâd ask you whether you had eaten, just before pulling you into his lap, lips attacking the side of your neck hungrily or when heâd tell you to take your medicine, with a slow âbabyâ and kisses planted to your forehead and cheeks.
âone drink.â you revealed, with a nibble to your lip.
you had no idea that he too was a fucking mess.
jungkook was indeed in his office, with his legs spread, suit jacket and tie somewhere, his shirt unbuttoned a little as he too drank. a cup of whiskey in his hand, his hair a mess as he scoured over your instagram for the millionth time just that day. neither of you were ones to post much, especially considering your accounts were private with only a few people, but he stalked you daily in hopes of a glimpse of you. could you blame him? he was utterly, devotedly in love with you.
a measly divorce couldnât stop that.
seeing yejinâs story, with your low cut top, and your big eyes showing a sign of life for the first time in months made his heart bloom. it had his cock straining, again, just looking at you, eyes hungrily looking over every inch of you and your soft smile. god, how he had missed it.
he had given you your time. respected your wishes, allowed you eight months of this but enough was enough. the flowers were just the beginning, marking his space back in your life through a promise he had every intention of upholding. he had told you directly he was going to fix this, and you, his sweet, sweet girl had believed him.
he would never let you down again.
âyou having fun?â
âwhy do you wanna know every single detail?â you asked, tone a little harsher than intended but you couldnât help yourself. this was an ambush on your senses.
he huffed once more, the amusement enough to disarm you.
âbecause i miss you.â
the words left him so easily that the breath in your lungs completely dissipated, leaving you a statued mess. no hesitation, no shame - pure, devastating honesty.
âyou canât say that, jungkook.â you weakly combatted, the intake of breath on his side of the phone at the sound of his name leaving your mouth enough of an answer for you.
âwhy not? i canât miss my wife?â he scoffed lightly at you.
you blubbered for a moment. âi-i am not..iâm not your wife!â
âokay.â he hummed once more.
there was a quiet clink on his end, no doubt picking his drink up and taking a big gulp after abandoning it the second you answered. neither of you spoke for a few more moments, silence now becoming a running theme between you on the call, and yet it was still void of the awkwardness youâd find anywhere else. it was awful how familiar it felt. how comfortable and safe.
your fingers played with the hem of your skirt nervously, unsure if you had been too brash - he was hurting too after all.
âis that top new?â
your breath caught.
â..what?â
jungkook stayed quiet for an extra beat. âyour top. havenât seen that one before.â
heat flooded your cheeks, chest and neck before you could even respond, your lips bitten down as you inhaled shakily.
âhow do you know that?â you were ignoring the way your pulse was hammering against your body, trying to feign an air of nonchalance.
at that, he couldnât help the small grin. âsaw you on yejinâs story.â he murmured, quieter now. âlook so good. love when you wear pink, baby.â
it wasnât even the words he had chosen, but more so the way he was saying them. so calm, so certain, so casual as if he wasnât calling his ex wife baby over a bit of cleavage that was never really meant for his eyes - your blush spreading all over you now.
âjungkook..â you breathed out, shakily.
âwhat?â he asked innocently, and you could really hear the smile in his voice now. âam i wrong?â
you looked down at your top, nibbling away at your lip to hide the small smile that was beginning to form on your own face, something that you hadnât felt in a long, long time. your fingers brushed against your stomach, feeling the fabric before tucking a strand behind your hair.
âitâs new.â you admitted softly, heels shuffling slightly on the ground.
the sound he made in response was enough to ruin you. not a laugh, not quite a sigh - something pleased.
he hummed. âso pretty.â
your eyes squeezed shut, and jungkook could feel it. could see it as though you were right in front of him. you were never one to handle a compliment, always going pink and shyly looking away and god, he loved it so much. loved complimenting you in hopes that you would react just like that, just to see you get all flustered.
the feeling in your stomach..it felt so strange. the same one that had haunted you for the past eight months, an unbearable warmth that filled you from your toes to your head, something you craved so desperately from him and him alone. to be noticed, looked at, admired by jungkook was one thing but to be loved by him? it was joy in itself.
you could feel it.
no one had ever loved you quite like he had done, as though every single thing you were capable of was worthy of applause. it terrified you.
âyou canât do this.â your voice came out so much smaller than either of you had expected, changing the entire feel of the call instantly.
as a result, his own tone softened, as though he was dealing with something porcelain.
âdo what, baby?â
your heart physically ached.
âtalk to me..like nothing happened.â
you felt sick to your stomach, hands gripping your phone and stomach as your eyes shut tight. you wished you hadnât of said anything, not with the way the silence kissed the air in a way that felt anything but familiar - it hurt. painful in every single way.
for the first time since answering the phone, you could see jungkook properly. could hear him breathing sharply as though your words were both a reminder and an understanding that no matter what, things could never go back to what they once were.
the slight twitch in his cheek, the way his fingers would naturally tighten whenever he was overwhelmed with emotion like he didnât know where to put it, where to place it in his overworking mind. he had always loved so deeply, your jungkook; just didnât know where to put it, or how to show it.
when he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. stripped bare for you, so you could feel him.
âi know what i did.â he admitted softly. âi know i fucked up, and that i failed you as a husband.â
your throat tightened.
outside, rainwater still lingered from earlier, a sickly humidity wrapped into every air particle around you. the scent of lingering cigarette smoke was heavy enough to ground you in that moment as you listened to jungkook speak words neither of you could truly handle hearing, despite how necessary they were. it just hurt so, so badly.
inside the bar, you could hear muffled laughter, people egging one another on for drinks as jazz boomed, your heart easing as you could hear yejinâs voice amongst the crowd, no doubt the life of the party there too.
âthen why are you acting like this?â you pathetically asked, lip jutting out in a teary pout. he could almost hear it on you. âyouâre talking to me like weâre still together.â
âyouâre still mine, y/n.â
your breath hitched violently.
âjungkook-â
âno,â he remained calm, a stark difference between you and him. âyou asked me a question, baby, so let me answer it properly.â
the nickname rolled off of his lips so naturally, instinctively, and you hated how easily your body curled closer, almost desperate to hear it whilst he stood in front of you. you had always been putty in his hands, so easily undone with a few pretty words but youâd held back for the past few months for the sake of your boundaries. hearing him so open, so honest - it was fucking you up all over again.
âi know weâre divorced,â he continued before you could interrupt him again. âi know..youâre not my wife anymore, and i know this is my fault. you left because of me and iâll live with that for the rest of my life.â
his voice cracked by the end of his statement.
âbut i wonât sit here and pretend like the last eight months have suddenly erased the past fifteen years of loving you.â
the words shattered you. your delicate, pathetic heart broke once more at his words at the confirmation of what you needed to hear so, so badly.
years of abandonment issues stemming from your parents and friends who had only ever toyed with you meant you had put your all into jungkook, who had only ever put every inch of himself back in - you were a partnership, a welcome duo that made sense to the both of you. watching him pull back, forget you, neglect and abandon your relationship no matter the reason was enough to trigger you in ways that no one could reason with.
it was an intimate form of violence that though was never intended, hurt more than anything he could have ever done to you.
he knew that. he was openly telling you he recognised his faults, his wrong doings - you knew that too. god, you knew him better than anyone alive, and you knew that by leaving him it was the only way for him to understand and see.
âyouâre making this so much harder, jungkook.â you whispered out through a flood of tears, your mascara and eyeliner smudging immediately under the slaughter of liquid.
âiâm sorry. iâm so, so sorry baby but i need you to hear me, okay? just..i need you to know iâm going to fix this. properly.â he breathed out, desperate now. âiâve been doing things right this time..gave you space, let you breathe, been working on myself and going to therapy. donât sleep at the office anymore, did at the start cause i didnât like coming home but iâm better now.â
therapy?
you knew he held so much trauma with his own parents, his own upbringing, too scared to ever even speak about it if it wasnât with you but to hear he had actually taken the steps to go forwards with something that put him directly out of his comfort zone was insanity to you. especially when his one and only concern had only ever been your own comfort, even at his expense.
his honesty made you burst out into quiet sobs - a noise he swore was harsh enough to kill him. he breathed out, cooing at you lightly as he shook his head despite you unable to see him, so pained.
jungkook recognised your pain immediately.
âyeah,â he muttered. âturns out working yourself to death because youâre afraid of losing everything after youâve had a shitty upbringing actually isnât normal behaviour. who knew?â
despite your heartbroken state, you let out a sincere watery laugh.
the sound hit him like a drug.
he went completely silent after hearing it, replaying it in the forefront of his mind. a greedy, gluttonous side of him climbing out of his very throat as he held it close to his soul, cherishing it - he was a starved man finally being fed.
âthere she is.â he breathed. âfuck..missed hearing your laugh.â
you hated how easily you were able to slip back into him.
âjungkook..â
âi mean it,â his tone deepened slightly - more certain, more intentional. âiâm not calling you tonight to confuse you, y/n. iâm not calling because iâm lonely..â
your fingers tightened around the phone once more. âthen, why?â
âbecause iâm getting you back.â
there was no hesitation in his voice, no wariness nor anything other than sheer determination. he sounded firm and a part of that thrilled you, whilst the other half sat scared of what this meant - you couldnât survive this again, losing him. what if you had changed? what if you werenât who he thought you were anymore?
âhey, stop it.â he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. âitâs just me, y/n. itâs just me and you, okay?â
âbut what if we canât do it?â you asked through a teary sob, scuffing your heels on the hard ground. âwhat if iâm different and what if itâs too hard? i canât..i wonât survive it..â
silence once more.
âthen, we do it slowly.â he whispered, assured, soothing you. no hesitation whatsoever. âiâm not asking you to trust me overnight, baby. i know i fucked that up already.â
your lip trembled, tears streaming so fast you could hardly keep up.
âbut iâm here now.â
the words settled so deeply inside of you that it almost hurt. that was all you had wanted all along, was it not? a present husband, the same man that loved you without the frills of money and presents - you wanted jungkook. your jungkook.
you swallowed thickly, knowing it had taken so much of him to even say this to you, so confident as he knew you needed a rock at this moment despite also being emotionally devastated.
two whole minutes of silence stretched between you as you caught your breath, your tears still streaming but your sobs subsiding, allowing for sweet hiccups that he thought were the cutest thing he had ever heard. his mind swam, aching, knowing how needy you were after a cry. he wanted to bundle you up and hold you, kiss you until there were no more thoughts left in that pretty little head of yours, right until you were finally asleep and safe in his arms.
âare you still at work?â you asked softly, breaking the silence and pulling him out of his thoughts.
a small pause.
then, almost amused - âtechnically..â
âjungkook! itâs late..â
he laughed quietly under his breath, the sound warm enough to blanket you in it.
âfinished hours ago, iâve just been sat here.â
âdoing what?â
another pause. slightly charged.
âlooking at you.â he murmured.
heat rushed to your face immediately, wiping your under eyes. âwhat?â
âbeen stalking your instagram. yejin posted you like half an hour ago too, so..â his voice dropped lower, smoother. more intimate. âhavenât really thought about doing anything since.â
your thighs pushed together involuntarily at the confession, cheeks hinted even darker.
god.
âjungkook.â you chastised with a little sniffle.
âpink was a bad choice, baby.â he grunted slightly. âyou know that colour drives me fucking insane on you.â
your eyes squeezed shut. there he was.
not the cold, mysterious ceo that had the world intrigued, nor the tall, hefty man that had most people cowering away as he walked past. no, this was your husband - flirty, affectionate and completely and utterly obsessed with you.
âyouâre so ridiculous.â you shook your head through a hiccup, biting back the pathetic small smile that was about to form.
âyeah?â he hummed through a small laugh. âstill answered the phone.â
the smile in his voice only had yours growing larger, a small laugh muffled by the back of your hand.
you could hear him moving around now, keys jingling lightly before the sound of a car door opening had your ears peaking up.
âwait,â your eyebrows raised. âare you leaving?â
âmhm.â
âwhere are you going?â
jungkook grinned. it was your turn to be curious.
âhome.â
your smile dropped slightly. home.. that used to be a word that was synonymous with you. your chest ached all over again.
âcouldnât go back there without hearing your voice first.â he admitted quietly.
silence swallowed you whole. the vulnerability in his voice felt far more dangerous than any of the tears you had shed tonight, your fingers continuing to shake around the phone at the mere sound of it. before you could think of a response, he spoke again.
âthereâs a gala next friday.â
your stomach tightened as you leaned your head against the wall, already understanding the direction of the conversation.
âjungkook..â
âcome with me.â
no hesitation. no uncertainty.
firm, assured, confident. like there had never even been another concept, or thought in his brain - you were the first and only option.
âi donât think thatâs a good idea..â
âprobably not.â
the honesty startled a laugh out of you - a real one. on the other side of the phone, jungkook sat in his car, eyes closed, breathing deeply at the sweet sound like he was memorising it. treasuring it so he could replay it over and over and over later when he laid in your once shared bed alone.
âfuck,â he breathed. âyou have no idea how much iâve missed that.â
your eyes burned once more.
âbaby,â his tone gentled again, using the pet name you loved so much. âjust one night. me and you.â
you wanted to scream, wanted to pull at your hair and jump all at the same time. of course you wanted to say yes, what more could you need? your ex husband so openly telling you he wanted to pursue you with every inch of his body, until he was nothing but yours to mould and shape.
âiâll think about it.â you replied instead, nibbling away at your lip.
the grin in his voice was immediate.
âthatâs my girl.â
â
you couldnât breathe.
both physically and emotionally, you found difficulty in inhaling air as you looked at yourself in the mirror, yejin somewhere in the room finding accessories for you to wear all whilst you blinked rapidly.
the dress, although beautiful, felt too tight.
your hands shook on either side of you as she approached you, holding up a delicate diamond necklace you recognised as an anniversary gift jungkook had gotten you but never quite found the chance to wear. your eyes were unfocused as she clasped it onto your neck, watching the way it fell so softly against soft skin, as though it had been curated for you and you alone.
âyou need to breathe, y/n.â she suddenly murmured behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder as you both stared at you in the mirror.
pale pink satin - not bright in anyway, but a sweet kiss of your favourite colour adorned your body in floor length, tight fitting dress. you were the embodiment of elegance as the fabric draped over your curves, all whilst cinching perfectly at your waist, allowing for a pretty silhouette. not only did you look the part for a charity gala, you had exceeded any expectation anyone would ever have for you thanks to your best friendâs styling.
âdress is tight.â you simply whispered back, hardly recognising yourself.
your makeup matched your dress. glowy and pink with soft blush dusted onto your cheeks, glossy lips puckered and sweet. your hair fell in waves and for the first time in a very long time, you felt utterly beautiful.
the problem, however, was in the circumstance itself.
you were about to see jungkook for the first time since you had officially walked away from your marriage and the thought had kept you up all week. you werenât sure what you were thinking actually saying yes to his invitation, calling him to tell you would come only for him to audibly huff out of joy. he was like a child in a candy shop but you couldnât help but wonder if he harboured the same anxiety.
it was heavy in your stomach as you stared at yourself. pink was your favourite colour, and he loved it on you. did you look pretty enough? all eyes would be on you both tonight, given the nature of your relationship and the almost celebrity like status that had been awarded to the two of you.
all in all, it was his face that had you nibbling your bottom lip in thought. there wasnât a night where you left his name unsearched in your internet browser, desperate to see what he looked like in that current moment but seeing him in purpose was a whole different playing field.
you loved him in suits - a fitting joy that was awarded to you constantly given his occupation. the way his shoulders would fill out the material so nicely, the way his shirt would stretch over his chest and the way darker colours only brought out the darkness in his eyes - it was your personal kryptonite. you werenât sure how you were supposed to think, behave even, once you caught got sight of him.
âhey, y/n, look at me.â yejin pulled you out of your thoughts, soft hands pulling at your jaw. âitâs just jungkook. you know him better than anyone, okay? youâre all good.â
you nodded, though you continued to blink at her rapidly. âsâjust been so long and..i donât know..iâm scared. is that weird?â
she offered a sad smile. âitâs been eight months of healing, babe. that love doesnât just go away and from what you told me, this is a step in the right direction. just gotta let him in.â
before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell blared through the apartment, making you look up to where the door sat on the other side. if you thought your heart had been beating fast before, you were sure you were on the edge of passing out now as yejin mumbled a quick âthatâll be himâ beside you.
oh god. oh god. oh god.
the dress felt too tight around your ribs.
your hands smoothed down the satin again despite having done it what felt like a million times already, fingers tips trembling over expensive fabric as your breathing came out shallow. you hated this - hated the fear of it all when it was jungkook on the other side of the door. your jungkook.
eight months. eight whole months and your body still knew him better than your mind was ready to let on.
ây/n.â yejin practically cooed at you, assuring you with a hand on your back. âbreathe.â
you nodded quickly, though it went in one ear and out the other.
the intercom buzzed again, impatient time.
ironically, it was this that had your shoulders slumping softly, your shortness of breath slowly soothing as you realised the familiarity of the situation. of course jungkook would buzz twice - it was a telltale sign of his own anxiety, something you could recognise from a mile away. knocking twice, calling your name twice, checking the front door before bed twice.
it was just jungkook.
âokay.â you whispered to yourself.
you turned, more determined now you knew he was in the same state as you, as your heels clicked on the floor of your much smaller apartment, the noise loud enough for him to hear from the outside. each step felt heavier the closer you got, but there sat an anticipation in you that had you almost desperate to see him.
your hand finally wrapped around the handle before you opened the door.
and there he was.
god.
for a moment, your brain completely malfunctioned.
jungkook stood in your hallway beneath the almost dingy apartment lighting, one hand wrapped around a large bouquet of flowers you recognised to be the ones he had been gifting you with continuously for the past few weeks, and every anniversary. white gardenias.
your eyes fell onto them immediately with a strangled gasp, all whilst taking him in, your heart beating out of your chest as you felt almost faint at the sight of him.
a black suit.
the material stretched perfectly across his too broad shoulders and narrow waist, expensive to the eye as you could tell it had been tailored to fit him exactly. the contrast between the white shirt underneath was utterly delicious, and memories of pulling open buttons under heated exchanges flooded your eyes.
his hair was styled almost messily which you immediately recognised as his hands having ran through them, no doubt due to his anxiety - you wanted to pull at his locks, wanted to feel them against your fingers.
it was his face, however, that hurt to look at.
he looked healthier than most of the pictures you had seen over the span of the past few months, with warm in his cheeks, a slight dazed look in his eyes. still tired, with purple underneath his eyes indicating his lack of sleep, still carrying traces of heartbreak you knew you had placed there.
god.
jungkook looked every bit of the man you were in love with.
and here he stood, staring at you like he had just seen heaven open up right in front of him.
neither of you could look away from one another, as his eyes dragged over you slowly, inch by inch. your hair, your neckline that dipped lower than he was used to seeing, your manicure, your beautiful face. jungkook couldnât fathom that you had once belonged to him, the pain of the past eight months surfacing as it gripped him by the throat like a vice - he had lost you?
you watched his throat bob.
his eyes met yours, the first time in what felt like a lifetime, and neither of you really knew what to do. how was it that the man you had known most of your life, the one constant, felt like a stranger in that moment? it was like you were discovering him again, an opportunity to relearn him presented to you and you took it with both hands.
he let out a shaking breath, one that had your cheeks flushing as he extended his arm, presenting the large bouquet for you.
âyou look beautiful.â he whispered, voice struggling almost as you continued to watch his adamâs apple almost entranced.
with a shy thank you, you held them close to your chest, breathing in the familiar scent that brought you so much comfort.
your chest had eased now you were finally looking at him, now that he was actually in your space - the worst was over. you almost felt ridiculous for being worried about seeing him when it was just jungkook. eight months couldnât erase that familiarity.
the hallway suddenly felt too small. too warm, too intimate; you felt like you were being caved in by his mere presence and for a moment you wondered if you needed breath at all.
you simply stood there, clutching the flowers delicately to your chest as though they meant something so much more than what anyone else could assume all whilst jungkook looked at you like you were the first beautiful thing he had seen in months.
his eyes couldnât leave your face.
it should have made you uncomfortable, the intensity of his stare, but your body reacted the way it had always done when you were near him. you were inching closer without even realising it, him doing the same until you were looking up, head angled and his downwards, head bent to admire you properly.
âhi.â you whispered again.
the size difference between you had never been more apparent until then, what with all of his strenuous visits to the gym these past few months. he had always towered over you, but it was different now - his already wide chest and broad shoulders engulfed you, his biceps on either side of him enough to have you wanting him in a way that certainly was not becoming of an ex wife.
itâs like he could read your thoughts, with the way he inched closer to you, until your bodies were openly brushing against each other faintly. material on material, fabric kissing fabric. you wished you could feel him on your skin.
the sound of your voice had lulled him gently as he dipped his head down lower so you could properly see him, despite your head back to look at him.
âhi, baby.â
your stomach flipped violently.
there it was again. baby. fuck.
as though the divorce papers were fickle, representing a momentary lapse of judgement instead of a ruling decision. like he still woke up beside you every morning and ruined your cheeks with kisses before falling in between your thighs.
the dazed look on your face didnât go unnoticed.
before you could even respond, yejin appeared behind you with the biggest smile she could possibly muster.
âoh my god,â she squeaked dramatically. âyou both look insane!â
jungkook blinked, momentarily pulled from the emotional spiral you were both taking part in as he straightened slightly, despite still being awfully close to you. your cheeks heated at the sound of her voice, jumping a little in shock, causing you to brush against him faintly.
âhi, yejin.â
âdonât hi yejin me.â she narrowed her eyes dangerously. âif she cries tonight, iâll kill you.â
âyejin!â you flushed red.
jungkook, however, allowed for a soft smile, nodding once. âfair.â
the sheer sincerity of it made the room go quiet, your eyes meeting his once more. you knew though it was a passing comment, he truly meant it - heâd let her kill him if it meant youâd hurt less.
your chest tightened all over again.
yejin seemed to realise it too, her teasing expression softening at the both of you. idiots in love, both too cautious to know what the correct next step was - thank god she loved to meddle.
âokay! youâre both gonna be late so hurry up.â she hummed, turning you and looking over you for any last minute touch ups. âiâll take these. iâll show myself out.â
with a cheeky wink, she all but pushed you backwards towards jungkook where your back gently brushed against his front. she had taken the flowers, shoved your clutch in your hand and shut the door in your face, all after giving you a big grin.
he didnât move from behind you, despite you turning to properly face him. the two of you stared at one another openly, eyebrows pulling together - you could see it happening in real time, the way his body curled at the mere feel of you. to be so close to you, touching you; it was out of a far away dream.
you felt it too - god, you could feel it in your veins. the horrifying wave of unashamed want that filtered through you so naturally, your body knew him. your body recognised your husband.
your man.
his restraint was palpable. you could see it in the way his fingers flexed on either side of him, almost twitching as muscle memory surfaced from deep inside of him. for years touching you had been second nature, with a hand on your waist, fingers lifting your chin, arms around your figure to hold you up for a kiss.
now he looked almost tortured as he realised he no longer knew what he was allowed to do.
the realisation alone softened you.
âwe should go.â you whispered up at him gently, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
jungkook stared at you, offering a small nod almost obediently despite the stark hunger in his eyes.
âyeah.â he cleared his throat. âyeah, okay.â
he stepped back and first; the distance was felt immediately.
you suddenly missed the warmth that radiated off of him, fingers faintly tugging on his suit jacket so gently you werenât even aware you were doing it. what the fuck was wrong with you? one touch and you were already spiralling into him again like the last eight months had never happened.
jungkook noticed. of course he did.
his chest visibly expanded from beneath the expensive material, eyes darkening so suddenly you felt heat up and down your spine. the way he looked at you had emotion swirling in your stomach, so hungry. so devoted.
you slowly released him, blinking rapidly as though youâd only just realised what youâd done.
âsorry.â you whispered instinctively.
jungkookâs eyebrows furrowed together in offence.
âdonât apologise for touching me.â his voice came out firmer than expected, low. far too intimate given the apartment hallway you were in.
the silence that followed felt thick enough to choke on, neither of you making an effort to move despite knowing you were bordering on being late. the tension was so unbearable now that you were both alone, freely staring at one another after so much time apart - no yejin to soften the edges. just fifteen years worth of tension, want and need all accumulated between you.
his eyes flickered downwards as he watched you sway slightly.
âyour heels are insane.â he muttered softly.
you blinked. âhm?â
âyouâre already wobbling.â
offended, your mouth gaped. âi am not wobbling!â
jungkook let out a small huff of amusement, loving how easy it was to rile you up. the sound completely disarmed you, seeing a glimpse of the same jungkook you had been with all of your life.
âyou almost fell walking out of the door.â he teased, with a tilt to his head downwards at you.
âi did not!â you shook your head with a small swat to his chest. he only let out another laugh. âyou literally grabbed onto me.â
âthat..doesnât count, okay?â
âmm.â amusement stretched over his face, as he led you to the staircase, cautious to be slow as he watched you continue to slightly wobble due to the uneven surface of the hallway. âsure.â
before you could even think of a rebuttal, you watched jungkook look down the multiple staircases with a slight frown before turning to you. he suddenly bent at the knees, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for no longer than two seconds before one arm slid below your knees and the other around your back.
your gasp echoed.
âjungkook!â
he lifted you bridal style effortlessly, as though you weighed truly nothing to him.
your hands immediately flung to the back of his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders in shock as your body felt more of him than it had done in what felt like eons. jungkookâs hands were so much bigger than yours, and you could feel him everywhere all at once, enough to have you dizzy with a sense of want.
âwhat are you doing?!â you whispered harshly, eyes blown wide as he sorted you on one single arm, checking his phone for the time with the other. it was beyond easy.
jungkook merely looked down at you calmly, entirely unbothered despite the way you could feel his pulse hammering below your fingertips.
âpreventative measures. canât have you slipping down the stairs.â
you stared at him in disbelief. âyou canât just pick me up!â
he scoffed a little, as though your words were going in one ear and out the other. your comfort came first, that much was ingrained in him and even you couldnât stop him when it came to that.
he walked down the stairs as though it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand spread wide against your back, claiming whilst the other was hooked under your thighs, making sure you were as comfortable as possible against him. your dress was draped so beautifully over his arm that anyone who would have caught you in that moment would have remarked, ironically, how bridal you looked.
you couldnât believe how safe he felt.
jungkook noticed the second you relaxed into him. properly.
âmissed carrying you.â he admitted quietly as he descended another step.
your entire body burned. âjungkook.â you breathed weakly, though there was no real warning behind your tone.
âwhat?â he hummed innocently. âsâtrue.â
you remembered almost fondly - it was the one thing you probably missed more than anything else. he would carry you everywhere - from the bed to your bath, to the couch after youâd woken up, through grocery stores just to hear you squeak in embarrassment. one time he had held you for an hour straight, walking you home after a date just because your feet hurt.
and now, here you were again, tucked into his chest as though it was home. you supposed it was.
your heart ached so violently at the memory that looking up at him through your lashes had your brain whizzing too fast for you to keep up with.
âyouâve gotten so much bigger.â you whispered almost shyly before you could stop yourself, already tucked into him too comfortably.
big mistake.
his heart truly nearly fucking stopped. his head snapped down at you almost instantly, eyes darkening so visibly it had you avoiding any contact, instead focusing your gaze on his clothed pecs.
âyeah?â he asked slowly.
your cheeks were flushed dark, realising how that may have sounded.
âjust..got broader.â you clarified through another whisper, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in his neck out of embarrassment.
âbeen working out a lot more.â he murmured down at you, ducking his head a little so that he could meet your eyes, a small smile forming.
you nibbled your lip with a little nod, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair.
jungkook knew you loved the size difference between you, but it truly didnât compare to how fucked it made his mind go. it was the first thing he had noticed when you opened the door again - how despite your heels, you were still so much shorter. it drove him insane, especially now that he was bigger. feeling you curled into his chest like this, all safe and protected, it made him feel wanted. to have you notice it, address it even so shyly; fuck. it ruined him.
by the time he had reached the bottom floor, your cheeks were still heated, dreading the fact he would have to let you go when all you wanted was to curl into him even deeper. to think ten minutes ago you had so much anxiety when now, he was actively conversing with you all whilst carrying you, it felt euphoric.
the driver stood outside of the car, the same man who drove you both to events when you were still together. your eyes widened a little as you watched him open the back door for you both, all whilst you were still leisurely held in his arms.
your embarrassment returned instantly.
âput me down!â you hissed quietly.
jungkook looked at you, unaffected. âwhy?â
âbecause your driver is literally staring at us, jungkook!â
the poor man looked away with a growing smile. he had missed seeing his boss so carefree, knowing that he was only like this when the situation pertained to you.
he smirked faintly. âheâs driven us around for years, baby. pretty sure heâs seen us do a lot worse.â
your mouth fell open, swatting his chest. âjungkook!â
that finally earned you a proper smile, brief but enough to knock the very air out of your lungs, your too large eyes drinking it in almost desperately. he was so handsome it hurt, and it wasnât until now you realised how much you had missed his smile.
carefully, he gently lowered you to the ground, making sure you were comfortable on your feet.
his hands lingered. neither of you moved.
your faces were suddenly so close once more as your hands had slid down from his neck, but remained in contact, fingers digging into his chest faintly to feel him. the city noise faded around you and into the background as he looked down at you with an emotion that could only be classed as longing.
âyou good?â he asked softly.
you nodded too quickly. âmhm.â
liar.
his eyes dropped to your lips once more, eyeing the gloss almost hungrily - would it taste like the strawberry you always applied? sometimes, when he closed his eyes, heâd remember the flavour.
then, like he had to physically pull himself back, he stepped closer to the car and gestured to it slowly.
âafter you.â
you slid into the backseat first, smoothening your dress as it rode up your body, all whilst your pulse hammered harshly.
the interior of the car was sleek, donned in a luxurious black leather whilst it remained dimly lit in the back, with enough enough space to stretch out your legs. the scent of jungkookâs cologne was addicting, and you immediately recognised it to be the one you had bought him on your last anniversary together, your heart fluttering at the thought.
once he climbed in beside you, you realised how intimate the space actually was.
jungkook sat close enough for his thigh to brush against yours, broad shoulders taking up far too much room whilst the driver shut the door quietly behind him.
neither of you acknowledged the contact. it somehow made it worse.
it wasnât until the divider between the front and the back began slowly sliding upwards, offering a layer of privacy that your breath caught audibly.
jungkook noticed - of course he fucking noticed. he couldnât stop staring at you, especially now that he had you trapped here, pushed against him like you belonged with a drive ahead of you. god, the things he wanted to do to you in this dress were sinful at best, but he had to practise restraint, no matter how much it took out of him.
he leaned back, one arm sliding over to the top of your seat, where although he wasnât touching you, you slyly leaned in just to have more of his warmth. it felt so familiar, so nauseatingly natural that anything other would have felt wrong.
he watched as your thighs pressed together.
fuck.
âyou nervous?â he asked in his low voice, jaw ticking.
your eyes slowly shifted, finally meeting his gaze. through a shaky laugh, one without humour, you nodded. âobviously.â
he softened at that, sharpness melting away to reveal the tenderness below.
âitâs just me, y/n.â
you felt so hyperaware of everything. the rain that tapped softly against the tinted windows, and the gentle purr of the car engine beneath you. the feel of jungkookâs thigh soothed you, whilst his heavy gaze unnerved you - a cocktail mix that felt so entirely him.
you could feel his eyes on you before you even looked up. once you did, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare - not polite. certainly not subtle. his gaze moved over you, up and down, like he couldnât help himself, like he heâd been trying to hold back the second you opened up the door to your apartment.
âfuck.â he muttered under his breath.
your cheeks flushed pink, whispering his name.
you watched his eyes flush down your body, eyes stuck on your cleavage and the way the material clung to your hips. âlook at you.â
you instinctively looked down, shy at the attention but you couldnât help but crave it. you knew exactly how obsessive jungkook was when it came to you, knew how deeply infatuated he was with every inch of you but seeing it so closely after so long almost felt soothing. it was a reminder that though everything had changed, somethings stayed the same.
his hand moved before you could think too hard about it, cupping under your chin and tilting your face upwards.
âdonât hide from me.â
your stomach tightened, eyelids hooded.
this thumb brushed against your jaw once, so soft, so unbelieving that you were in his arms despite the fact you technically werenât his anymore. not that he believed that.
âi canât stop looking at you.â he admitted, tone rougher now. âbeen trying since you opened the door, but itâs impossible.â
your thighs pressed together immediately, his gaze dropping to the small action. the reaction was subtle, but there - he noticed everything when it came to you.
you suddenly felt so warm.
âyouâre staring so hard.â you murmured nervously, fingers twisting together in your lap.
âbecause youâre driving me fucking crazy.â
the words came out so plainly your eyes widened.
jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose, head tipping backwards against his seat all whilst you watched with heavy breath. the far gone part of your mind wanted to track his neck, trace his adamâs apple with your fingers all so he could continue looking at you the way he had been.
he looked devastating like this - broad thighs spread in the backseat with your body pressed against him, his arm slung heavy on the head of your seat. the both of you were a mess for one another, sick in the head with infatuation.
you werenât stupid. you knew your effect on him, perhaps not to the full extent, but enough to know that nearly a yearâs distance between you was enough to drive a man like him insane. his hand dragged over his face with a quiet groan before adjusting himself slightly over his suit trousers.
your eyes flickered downwards before you could stop yourself.
jungkook smiled at the sound of your quiet giggle as you put a hand over your mouth to muffle it, looking up to meet his gaze after noticing he was half hard. all you had done was exist.
âyeah,â he murmured, the sound of your laugh blooming in his chest. âthatâs your fault.â
you slapped his thigh gently, although you couldnât hold back on the continuous giggles that were now leaving you as you felt lighter than you had in what felt like years. he too matched you, the intensity lightening up massively as he let out a quiet laugh despite himself.
âwhatâd you expect, hm?â he asked, voice soft. âi havenât seen you in eight months, and now youâre sat next to me looking like this. wearing pink.â
his hand slowly slid over, brushing against your own, fingertips grazing your skin before he intertwined them, gently.
you let him.
the second you curled your hand into his yourself, his expression changed. up until now, it was him losing control, reigning himself in, biting himself down to make sure you were as comfortable as possible but fuck. you were the one touching him now, making sure he could see you intertwine your hands properly, squeezing his hand.
it felt like a confirmation that this was the beginning of a new chapter.
he wanted to scream, to yell on the top of his lungs at the thought of you openly showing him your willingness. his sweet, angel girl; he loved you more than words could describe and he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing you.
âmissed this,â he admitted quietly, eyes on your much smaller hand holding his so intimately. âmissed you touching me.â
your eyes burned suddenly.
jungkook noticed immediately with a frown, expression softening at the edges.
âhey, baby.â his thumb brushed yours. âdonât cry.â
âmânot crying.â you whispered, though your voice wobbled embarrassingly.
he held you close to him as you both remained quiet for the rest of the journey, though the silence felt welcomed after such a rush and mix of emotions. you had gone from anxiety, to confusion, to excitement, to warmth, to a painful reminder of what once was - it was enough to drive you insane. being around him hurt, but being near him was healing.
rain continued to pitter patter outside as your hands remained intertwined, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he sat there trying to fathom how this was real. you were letting him in, and he could see it, could see how much it was taking out of you and heâd be damned if he fucked it up again. to get a second chance was insanity alone, but to have it with you?
the car began slowing down.
through the tinted windows, you could see a flash of white, people trying to get a glimpse of the elusive ceo they were so obsessed with. you gulped as you watched other powerful business people walk in with their dates, models and celebrities lining up to have their picture taken.
you leaned into him almost immediately.
jungkook held onto you tightly, arm sliding over your waist and gently squeezing. âiâm here. stay by me.â
you nodded quickly, dazed. âokay.â
his eyes lingered on your face for a second too long before he muttered under his breath, almost like he couldnât help himself. âyou look so fucking pretty.â
your heart nearly stopped, meeting his gaze as your shoulders slumped, feeling calm through his sweet words.
the car door opened.
chaos.
jungkook stepped out first and the reaction was everything you had expected and somehow so much more. your eyes blinked as you watched the cameras explode violently, reporters shouting his name from all directions as they desperately tried to get a clear shot of him, knowing he could easily make front page news without having to try.
your heart stopped for a moment.
his back faced everyone else as he turned to you, taking a hold of your hands once more and gently helping you out of the car, smoothening your dress.
the second they saw you? everything multiplied by ten.
genuine screaming was heard from somewhere behind the barricades as you slowly stepped out, your own hand finding jungkookâs for a sense of comfort which he readily gave you, pulling you in a little closer than necessary. the noise was erupting, your vision blinded momentarily by the insane flashes, reports actually tripping over one another to take pictures of you in particular.
this wasnât normal.
jeon jungkook never brought women anywhere. never entertained rumours, never dated publicly, never stood beside any other woman that hadnât been you. even then, you had been painfully private, making sure to attend closed events with rare appearances, often opting to support in the shadows as opposed to centre stage as he was forced to.
but now? this was the loudest statement you could have possibly made and it slowly dawned on you both the nature of the decision.
you were telling the world you were ready to start again.
his entire demeanour had changed out here.
you were overwhelmed to say the least, but it was his arms around you that kept you grounded as you clung to him, your smaller frame tucked so delicately within his own that some found themselves putting their cameras down just so they could observe you both.
you were the epitome of love and neither of you even knew it.
ceo jungkook - all cold eyes, sharp jaw, that terrifying calmness. yet every few seconds he ducked his head down, whispering something in your ear that would have you smiling almost shyly back up at him, easing your mind away from the hundreds of people who wanted nothing more than to get a picture of you.
âjungkook over here!â
âis that your ex-wife?â
âare you two back together?!â
ây/n!â
you flinched slightly as the voices got louder the closer you walked down the carpet towards the venue, but it seemed jungkookâs presence only felt bigger.
âdonât look at them.â he whispered down into your ear, words tucked for you and you alone. âlook at me.â
stupidly enough, you obeyed almost instantly. his eyes softened at the way you listened so sweetly.
âgood girl.â he muttered absentmindedly before guiding you to the entrance and away from the prying eyes outside.
the words hit you far harder than they should have. good girl.
oh you were so fucked.
â
the venue was utterly breathtaking.
golden lighting spilled across towering ceilings whilst soft music played from a live orchestra at one side of the ballroom, so elegant youâre indeed whether you were even appropriately dressed. people stared at you openly, all whilst you and your flushed cheeks looked away, purposefully keeping your gaze vague and avoiding eye contact with most. glasses clinked together as powerful figures mingled amongst themselves, professional cameras still set up inside.
and yet, none of it compared to the way people reacted to jungkook.
conversations paused when he walked by, people straightening up. executives who had once terrified you now looked nervous approaching him and it reminded you exactly who he was outside of your relationship.
jeon jungkook was a terrifyingly cold, business man. he was untouchable and unfeeling, everything that made a powerful man powerful and then there was you. his one weakness.
his hand remained firm against the small of your back possessively, claiming you as his own in front of anyone who could see. you loved when he was like this, all brooding and dark as though anyone even had a chance to steal him from you - silly man. even now, with months of distance between you and a divorce, you were all his.
âbreathe, baby.â he reminded with a quiet hum in your ear.
âi am breathing.â your cheeks warmed.
âbarely.â
you shot him a look, though it was void of any real annoyance as he guided you further into the room. you couldnât help but admire him openly, all whilst he scanned the room, not realising how deep you were falling into your own thoughts. he really had gotten so much bigger, with his chest so wide you couldnât help but wonder what it would feel like under your hands. his shoulders too.
you had spent the entire drive trying not to stare at him. you had failed. miserably.
âdrink?â
he pulled you out of your thoughts with a little gasp, realising you had been openly checking him out much to his pleasure. you found yourself nodding, nibbling away at your lip. âyes please.â
the words came out too fast, awarding you with a small laugh as he turned towards the bar.
your eyes followed him automatically.
that was another problem entirely. you see, no matter where jungkook stood, attention naturally followed. men greeted him immediately, keen to get into his good books whilst women openly stared, hoping to garner his fancy and yet he was completely and entirely uninterested. his gaze flickered back to you every few moments, as though he still couldnât believe you were right there, just for him. just because he had asked you to come.
your chest squeezed painfully at the thought.
he returned only a few moments later with two champagne glasses, handing you yours to which you took with a nervous smile.
âthank you.â
your fingers brushed his purposefully. small, barely noticeable.
oh, but how jungkook had noticed. he noticed everything when it came to you and judging from the way his throat bobbed, taking a large sip of his drink, you knew that your poor ex husband was certainly not able to handle your charm.
the champagne helped much quicker than you were expecting it to.
after the first glass, the tension in your shoulders completely eased but it was the second that had you transforming. your overthinking thoughts ceased to exist, as the warmth in your blood brought out a shade of pink in your face that jungkook couldnât look away from. standing close to him suddenly felt less terrifying and so much more thrilling.
a dangerous combination - especially when jungkook was looking at you with so much hunger.
a buzz had settled deep into your bloodstream, your brain slightly away with the fairies as you continued to sip, looking up at him. your other hand darted out, fingers trailing over his stomach openly, over to where the buttons of his suit sat. what was an absentminded action to you, tipsy, was enough to have jungkook almost shaking.
you were braver when you had alcohol in you, that much had been true your entire relationship, but even this felt quite insane. he watched as your fingers trailed up and down, sliding up to where his chest was only to drop lower and lower. it wasnât until your fingertips were brushing the top of his suit trousers that he grabbed your hand.
you pouted at him, head tilted. âwhy?â
your whine had his shoulders rolling.
âbecause,â he said slowly, voice rough beneath the sound of the orchestra. âyouâre getting handsy.â
your lips patted in faux innocence. âam not.â
jungkook stared at you half in disbelief and other half amusement, still holding your hand that he now pressed to his chest firmly. your fingers had nearly slipped below his waistband, a thought that had him nearly taking you home then and there but he knew it was because the alcohol was making you brave - his tipsy girl. his palm engulfed yours, feeling your fingers wriggle underneath to continue your plans with a slight whine but he was both firm and possessive, not letting you go.
you pressed your thighs together again.
this was the champagne.
he knew it, knew it to be a dangerous mix - the alcohol and your naturally clingy personality once you got comfortable, all combined with the eight months apart meant you were now simply doing whatever your heart wanted with little care to your mind.
your cheeks warmed as you watched him stare down at you, gaze heavier than anything all evening. it seemed the longer you were both in each otherâs presence, despite how long youâd spent apart, the more bold you were getting - but could you be blamed? he might have been your ex husband but he still belonged to you, and you knew you were still entirely his, a fucked up fact that meant you were both drawn to each other in ways that meant you could never move on.
multiple months of healing all gone to shit in a single night, with a few drinks. who were you both kidding - moving on wasnât an option. even you could see that now.
your fingers flexed under his hold, people secretly watching you both interact with bated breath. they couldnât believe this was the same jungkook they were afraid of, made to mush at the hands of the pretty woman in front of him. he was but a man afterall.
rather than pulling away, your fingers simply curled around the fabric of his suit jacket, fingers touching his shirt purposefully to elicit another reaction out of him. he had reduced you to putty in the drive over and perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, but you wanted him to feel the same.
jungkook was quiet. too quiet.
jaw slightly slack as he took you in, you touching him like his body belonged to you and you alone. he relished in the fact you knew it just as well as he did.
he had missed this so much. just the feel of you, no matter how innocent you pretended to be, skin on skin. it felt like a promise.
and now, you were standing here, head tilted to stare up at him properly whilst looking through pretty lashes that batted at him subconsciously.
it was driving him insane.
âyouâre staring again.â you hummed at him. his eyebrows narrowed. âbecause you keep touching me.â
you tried to bite down the smile that began to form on your lips as your fingers continued to flex, soon finding his heartbeat to confirm your suspicious. oh, he was a mess underneath your hand.
âyou donât seem to mind.â
his jaw flexed. you heard him curse under his breath, calling you a fucking minx which only had you giggling just as quietly. it was a powerful thing to have a man as influential as jungkook so weak in the knees for you, and you couldnât deny the affect it was having on your mind. he snaked a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him in a way that was absolutely not becoming of the environment you were in.
âkeep this shit up and iâll take you home.â he promised quietly, leaning down to whisper into your ear.
unfortunately for him, you had no intention of stopping. especially when you had just begun.
âpromise?â you whispered back, eyes wide with a faux innocence you knew he wanted to ruin.
his jaw clenched again, blood half boiling at how cheeky you were being and cock hardening by how badly he wanted to ruin you. had this been any other circumstance, youâd already be in the bathroom with your dress to your chest, being pounded into by the only man who knew exactly how to ruin you until you were well bred.
but alas - this night was about proving himself to you, and no matter how hard you made him, he knew he had to do this right.
and so, instead, he pinched you at your waist slightly, pulling an airless squeak out of you before he brushed his lips against your ear.
âbehave.â
the word should have been warning enough, but instead, warmth fluttered through you, rushing through your stomach so violently you pressed against him further. jungkook nearly hissed, watching how reactive you were for him, with your hooded eyes and slack jaw.
fuck.
his hands were all over you, with little care to who was watching and you knew tomorrow youâd be mortified when you remembered how brazen you had both been, but it was hard not to feel addicted when you were both feeling the same way. you giggled lightly, hiding your face in his chest momentarily before meeting his gaze.
âyouâre very confident for someone i divorced.â you playfully hummed.
at that, he couldnât help the smile that formed on his face. âdidnât stop you from getting your pretty hands all over me.â
the alcohol was well into your system as you found yourself giggling once more, fully hiding yourself in his chest to which he wrapped his arms around you properly, the two of you whispering and laughing together as though it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkookâs colleagues, rivals and admirers all watched you both in genuine curiosity at the way you were so well suited. two people, quietly infatuated with one another - it was toothache inducing.
the conversation between you both remained playful, with his thumb tracing your bottom lip at one point muttering something about how badly he wanted to know how your lip gloss tasted. an hour in and you were both practically trying to one up each other with how far you could take it, leaving you both laughing whilst trying to stay quiet.
this is what you had missed. joy. comfort. being around him in a way that didnât feel like you were fighting to prove something. it had been so long since youâd felt this carefree that you realised pretty quickly that you couldnât let him ago again. it was a horrible thought at first, realising that the past few months may have been for naught but perhaps absence did make the heart fonder.
soon enough, you had been there close enough two hours and jungkook had done the rounds once you settled in, less tipsy but still buzzed. you met his new business partners, clients you hadnât seen in a while, a mixture of familiar faces and people you had only ever heard about. neither of you commented on the fact he introduced you intimately, with a heavy arm around your waist.
it genuinely felt like no time had past with the way you both felt so comfortable, the dynamics between you natural considering he had been the one constant in your life for the past fifteen years. you sipped on your glass of water as you listened to his conversation half mindedly, watching him discuss a new company contract with one of his shareholders.
it wasnât until you heard a voice echo throughout the ballroom announcing the beginning of the charity auction that the conversation came to an end. jungkook immediately took a hold of your hand, planting a cheeky kiss to your knuckles with a slight smirk, before leading you towards the front of the room where the different things on auction sat to be admired over.
âcâmon.â
you followed him easily, hands intertwined whilst you walked side by side, champagne now a dull buzz in your body. people moved around you respectfully, all whilst their eyes lingered on you much longer than needed. could you blame them? you were the infamous woman that had managed to lock down the one man that seemed disinterested in everything, so much so that you had him laughing and flushing pink every time you so much as looked at him. the divorced couple that looked anything but divorced.
oh, they were staring indeed, with hushed whispers and even quieter questions.
your attention drifted lazily over the displayed pieces, politely but nothing quite caught your interest, your eyebrows pulling up at some of the art pieces named. it wasnât until you reached the very end that you found yourself stopped in your tracks.
jungkook noticed, he too coming to a stop to glance over at you only for his gaze to follow yours. he immediately understood.
beneath warm lighting sat a painting, inconspicuous to most considering it was much smaller than the grand pieces to the left, but it had your eyelashes fluttering
white gardenias.
your breath left you quietly.
it wasnât just flowers - it was an oil painting, textured with strokes of green, ivory and creams whilst petals cascaded over one another so delicately your heart ached. the background dat moodier, darker compared to the softness of the flower leaving you in a state of utter awe for a few moments, all whilst holding the hand of your ex-husband who watched you with bated breath.
it was beautiful.
you stepped closer unconsciously, hardly aware of yourself.
jungkook didnât think heâd ever seen you look at something with this much wonder, in all of the years he had known you. it did something to him, to watch you genuinely in awe at something he could so easily give you - it made him realise he needed provide it for you just to see that look again and again and again and again and again.
he felt this throat tighten, a harsh lump forming the longer he watched you admire it. the way your glossy lips parted, eyes widened and fingers tracing the air in front of it - donned in the same diamond necklace he had gotten you years prior. the same necklace heâd bought you after you murmured something about diamonds resembling stars late one night as you curled into him in your shared bed.
and here you were, wearing it, all whilst your hand curled inside his as though you had never been more at peace. that did something to him. something he couldnât quite describe.
your fingers moved to brush over the small description plaque underneath, reading the inspiration for the piece with a small, choked huff - devotion. enduring, eternal love through trial and tribulation through each season of life.
your own throat tightened then. of course.
âgardenias are difficult flowers..they die so easily if you donât take care of them.â you found yourself whispering; straightening your back and avoiding his gaze to bite back any tears that wanted to appear.
his chest tightened violently.
all he could think about was the little apartment you had both shared when you were younger, when he barely had any money to get you by each month. the one with the poor lighting and the janky sink - you used to sit by the window each morning whilst he got ready for work, whispering sweet things down at them because you believed it would help them grow.
he remembered every single detail.
âyou kept yours alive for months.â he whispered back, the hand that was clasped in yours now intertwining your fingers, as though he could project his memories back to you.
you blinked back at him, eyes glassy, surprised slightly. you hadnât expected him to remember something so small and insignificant.
how could jungkook could ever forget a single thing about you?
a small smile pulled at your lips. âi used to get upset whenever theyâd lose petals.â
âyou cried once.â he corrected.
you rolled your eyes. âshut up!â
he only shrugged, lips twitching. âhad to console you all night.â
âi thought i killed it!â
his quiet laugh nearly knocked the air from your lungs, all whilst he pulled you back into him, breathing in the scent from your hair before taking you to your shared table, where the auction was about to begin. your fingers remained curled around his own, all whilst he helped you sit down, fixing your dress for you.
he physically couldnât pull away from you, couldnât stop touching you even as you began conversing to the woman beside you, who jungkook recognised as one of his shareholders. his thigh was pressed against yours, all whilst his hand sat heavy in your lap, both of your hands playing with his fingers absentmindedly.
the different items came on stage as you watched people bid, raising their panels whilst some shouted out their numbers for more exclusive pieces. you couldnât help your giggles, leaning over to whisper in jungkookâs ear whenever youâd see more excited people, all for him to lean into you with an equal smile. the two of you were being silly, and it felt fun for once.
by the time the gardenia painting finally appeared, your posture straightened as you tapped on his hand with a wiggle of your eyebrows. jungkook watched you with a lazy grin, eyes flicking over your face.
cute.
the bidding started much lower than you expected, causing you to frown. âthatâs it?â
he nearly laughed, seeing your passion for your flowers. âartâs subjective, baby.â
âyeah, well everyone is wrong..so.â
fuck. he loved you so much.
you watched as someone raised their paddle, and then another, and another. a bidding war began as your head bounced between people, watching in utter curiosity though a part of you wondered what it would be like to bid yourself. ironically for you, you were completely unaware of the man beside you staring at your profile like he wanted to devote the rest of his life to you.
âtwo million.â
your eyebrows raised.
âtwo and a half!â someone else shouted, causing you to play with his fingers a little faster almost out of excitement.
âhope someone who actually appreciates it gets it.â you leaned over to whisper into his ear, lips brushing against his cheek in the process.
his jaw ticked.
game on.
just as someone shouted out, claiming three million, jungkook ran a hand through his hair before raising his panel, dark eyes trained on the auctioneer.
âfive million.â
your head snapped sideways so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, all whilst jungkook sat completely calm, hand raised lazily as though this was easy. like he hadnât just dropped five million as though it was nothing.
âjungkook!â you whispered, eyes wide. he merely hummed back at you, hand still intertwined with yours. âhm?â
âwhat are you doing?!â
âgetting you your painting.â
you stared at him in disbelief.
across the room, multiple people were openly whispering now, glancing between you because everyone could recognise what was exactly happening. this wasnât ego - this was love.
obsessive, and terrifying love.
another bidder raised their paddle almost nervously, calling out a measly âfive and a halfâ after a moment of hesitation.
âseven million.â
an audible murmur fluttered through the room just as you grabbed onto his arm with a large gasp, eyes widening as though he was batshit insane. âjungkook, stop!â
he finally looked at you, small smile playing on his lips at the sight of you so shocked. it was so cute the way you were practically toppling over your seat, a reminder that despite being with him, you had never really dabbled in his wealth whatsoever despite it all belonging to you.
a large shout of âsoldâ was heard by all, but you couldnât bring yourself to look away from him. his eyes admired you, from your lips to your eyes, your shaking hands that were both clinging to his thigh, your cleavage that had dipped even further than earlier. fuck. you were the epitome of everything he had ever wanted.
âyou wanted it.â he whispered to you, as though that was all he needed, as though it was enough of a reason to spend seven million in one night with a flick of his wrist.
your eyes near enough watered at his words, knowing that nothing had ever described jungkook better.
â
things between you and jungkook had settled into something dangerous.
not enough to call yourselves fixed, or enough to place a label onto whatever fragile thing had formed between you, but enough that your days seemed lighter. having him back in your life meant you were happy again, and actually excited - finally feeling whole in ways that no one else quite understood.
he called more often now.
what started off as phone calls sometimes briefly between meetings, something about using your voice to destress before important gatherings. they quickly turned to late night facetimes where both of you laid in bed, half naked, chatting until either of you would fall asleep. some nights they turned into something darker, dirtier, with a slip of your night dress to show him more all whilst heâd grunt and hiss at the sight, whispering all of the things he wanted to do to you.
it was beginning to feel domestic, familiar even. so terrifyingly easy.
you realised pretty quickly that somewhere along the way, between late night conversations and soft laughs exchanged, you had began falling deeply in love again.
hard.
he had been away on business ever since the gala a few weeks ago, with him currently stationed in hong kong over some important stakeholder meetings. you knew he was incredibly stressed over it, given the frequency of his calls - always at odd times during the day and night, sometimes with the intention of just looking at your face as though it was the only motivator he needed.
the time difference was more irritating than you had expected, and yet he still managed to find a way to accommodate to your schedule as opposed to his.
your favourite so far had been a simple picture of the skyline view from his hotel, taken at three am with a caption of âwish you were here.â
you hated how much those four words affected you.
pathetic, really. how even now, youâd kick your feet in excitement over any message sent from your ex husband.
it had become routine now, to expect messages from him with each waking moment, calls when the workload was heavier. perhaps that was exactly why the silence that afternoon felt so particularly loud.
you were curled into your couch, opting to work from home as you were in his jumper and a pair of flimsy shorts. you hummed quietly as you balanced your laptop on your thighs, all whilst a random entertainment news channel played in the back to offer some noise in your otherwise quiet apartment.
your ears perked up once you heard jungkookâs name somewhere in the background.
your attention barely lifted at first, no doubt another gossip sesh on how attractive he was which often made you giggle, but this felt different.
âceo jeon jungkook spotted in hong kong alongside mystery woman-â
your stomach dropped.
the laptop slipped from your thighs and onto the couch cushion, all whilst your head snapped towards the television, reaching for the remote to turn it up. the image splashed across the screen, all whilst you sat there, smaller than anything, watching.
jungkook.
beside him, an undeniably beautiful woman.
she was tall, elegant, dressed sharply in a suit practically created for her whilst cameras flashed at them harshly, exiting a building together. the headline underneath made your chest cave in further.
âglobal heartthrob ceo finally moving on after the divorce?â
you stared. and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared until your knees had slowly slid to the ground, your back touching the couch whilst the entertainment show droned on and on about the details of your relationship with jungkook, about how smitten you had both seen at the gala, how they were the first to break this exclusive news.
your brain knew better. you knew jungkook like the back of your hand and logically, you fucking knew better. jungkook was so many things, but he had always placed you and your emotions first, your priorities, your necessities, your life - your wants and needs transcended everything else. you had never asked for it to be this way, it was just the way he was.
even during your separation, he had never looked at a woman twice. you knew that.
but logic had never been able to defeat insecurity.
all you could think, all you could see, based off of a single image was how she fit beside him. how effortless it looked, how beautiful she was, how successful. so poised and polished - she was everything a woman who stood beside jungkook ought to have been and it was killing you in real time.
the worst thing of all was the realisation that he didnât belong to you.
all of this emotion, this horrible feeling inside your chest and soul - you were the one to divorce him. you had been the one that demanded it end back then, no matter how much he had begged you to see reason, believing that it was the correct step forward for the both of you. he had every right to move onto someone else, had every right to actually step forward towards something new.
and yet the thought of him belonging to someone else felt the closest to grief you had ever felt in your life.
your phone rang violently loud beside you, droning out the words of the presenter and making you jump slightly.
jungkook.
your eyes burned instantly.
the phone continued to ring and ring across the sofa cushion as you stared at his contact picture, a photo taken on your anniversary a few years ago that you could never bring yourself to change. your chest rose unevenly as another harsh wave of emotion hit you.
you couldnât do this.
not after you had spent the past few months trying not to think about him, only for him to come back into your life.
the call rang out.
then another came. and another. and another.
your phone was blowing up with a mixture of calls and messages, each vibration making your heart ache so much worse as the topic changed on the tv, talking about some other celebrity gossip all whilst you felt your entire life collapse before your very eyes.
with shaking hands and teary orbs, you turned your phone off.
you burst into tears.
the rest of the day was spent being utterly miserable. you had never felt so pathetic in all of your life, with pain running up and down your veins in a way that genuinely left you almost debilitated. the last time you were this heartbroken, you were a fresh divorcee.
the curtains remained shut despite the afternoon sun outside, your apartment dim besides the soft flicker of the television that continued playing mindlessly in the background. at some point, you had dragged yourself towards your bed with tears still streaming down your face, his oversized jumper now heavy on your frame.
you hated this version of yourself.
hated how deeply this had affected you despite knowing better. you knew him better than this, had enough trust in him and yet you couldnât barter with what was directly in front of you - months after rebuilding a sense of confidence all for it to shatter over one measly, gossip channel.
you closed your eyes, images of the beautiful woman stood beside him flooding your mind causing you to open them up again with a quiet whimper. so composed and effortless. untouched by the devastation eating you alive.
by morning, your chest was in genuine pain.
you looked awful too.
your eyes were swollen, red with the continuous tears all night whilst your skin felt sunken and dull, the early morning sun hitting your skin from glimpses through your blinds. you forced yourself out of your bed and into your shower, trying to rid the plaguing thoughts out of your body. you failed, spending the majority of it quietly crying.
by the time you were in the living room again, your nose was just as pink as your eyes, hands shaky and body adorned in an old t-shirt you had secretly stolen from his wardrobe back when you were packing to leave. you curled weakly into the couch, blanket curled onto your legs as you begged your body to rid the horrible stomach ache that had now found home inside you.
your phone remained switched off, somewhere under the blanket, still left there from yesterday. you reached for the remote.
you just wanted mindless noise.
instead, the television flickered to life and you found your breath catching harshly for the umpteenth time within 24 hours.
breaking news banners on every channel you came across.
jeon jungkook.
a whimper pulled up out of your throat at the sight of his images everywhere, your fingers tightening around the blanket before you turned the volume up.
âthe ceo has officially filed legal proceedings against multiple media outlets this morning following yesterdayâs false dating allegations-â
your heartbeat began thundering. you sat up immediately.
another clip appeared instantly, reporters practically tripping over one another in front of jungkookâs main company building, cameras flashing in hopes of getting a picture of anyone who could answer for anything.
âthe statement released by jeon jungkookâs legal team less than half an hour ago reads as follows-â
the screen shifted, and suddenly, there it was. cold white text against a black background that had your breathing stopping completely.
âthe allegations regarding ceo jeon jungkook are entirely false. the individual photographed was present for a scheduled business meeting attended by multiple executives and investors. legal action will be taken against all parties responsible for the deliberate spread of false information and invasion of privacy.â
your throat tightened harshly.
your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the presenter stop, looking at the camera momentarily, before her voice completely softened.
âas for the final portion of the statement, many online are expressing surprise regarding the unusually personal nature of his response as he personally commented-â
more text appeared.
you scanned it once. twice.
over and over and over until a harsh sob was ripped from your lips.
âi have never entertained nor pursued any romantic involvement with anyone.
there has only ever been one woman.â
a broken sound tore from your throat as your hand flew to your mouth, fresh tears spilling from eyes so fast that you couldnât see the tv. your heart felt like it had been picked up from the ground, cradled and cherished after being pierced over and over all night, attacked without any reprise.
you couldnât believe what you were reading.
jungkook, your jungkook? so private and reserved, not willing to give one inch of himself to anyone other than you and yet here he was, making himself as clear as possible. he was telling everyone with ears that you were his but more importantly, he belonged to you and you alone.
he despised media attention, it truly was the one thing he hated more than anything and the both of you would often laugh at rumours and random things stated in the tabloids because they were all bullshit.
and yet he has made a statement publicly.
for you.
your chest cracked at the thought as you covered your face with both hands, sobbing harder and harder.
before you could wallow further, a loud banging erupted from the front door.
the sound tore so violently through the apartment, you jumped - startled on the couch whilst your heart leapt to your throat. the slight fear had your tears stopping immediately, allowing for enough of a shock to regulate your mind for a few moments.
another knock came before you could even process it. louder, and louder, and louder.
âbaby!â
your breath hitched painfully.
jungkook?
his voice sounded wrecked. not the calm, controlled man the world knew, nor the eerie ceo who often stood emotionless in front of the cameras whilst deals worth billions sat heavy on his shoulders. this was your jungkook - the one who loved you much too hard, half unravelled whenever the conversation pertained to you.
âopen the door.â he shouted again, along another collective banging. his voice cracked slightly. âplease..â
you stared into space for just a moment, your mind unable to comprehend what was happening before your legs carried you to the door, through the hallway. you slipped on your blanket slightly, already shaking body weaker than usual given the past twenty four hours, all whilst hot, heavy tears burned in your eyes once more.
another knock.
âbaby, câmon..â
the second your shaking hands unlocked the door, it swung open hard enough to hit the wall behind it, as though jungkook couldnât believe you had actually heard him.
he looked utterly destroyed.
he stood, still in a suit that now sat disheveled on his frame, black tie loosened around his throat, white shirt wrinkled as though he had been in it for hours. his usually pushed back hair was messy, pulled at and tugged through large hands any time he had realised the depths of emotion you were no doubt feeling looking at the news - if the shoe was on the other foot, and jungkook had seen news of you and another man; he wouldâve happily burnt the world to a crisp.
the second he saw you, his entire face fell apart, anger long dissipating.
âfuck.â he whispered, heaving out a breath.
his oversized shirt sat on your body, engulfing your smaller frame, swallowing you whole in a way that had his breath taken away. it was your eyes that broke him, however, as they looked so swollen, no doubt from crying so hard, your cheeks still damp and lips still quivering enough that he watched you bite down on them.
you watched his throat bob harshly, watched his eyes flicker over yourself frantically like he was trying to assess how badly you had been hurting without him here to comfort you. the thought terrified him.
that was all it took for a sob to rip out of your chest so painfully your knees almost buckled. your hands flew up to your face.
immediately, his arms shot out, cradling you almost harshly to him with one large arm completely covering you whilst his large hand pressed against the back of your head, holding you close to him as though this was the only remedy for a situation like this. his sweet girl. his sweet, sweet girl.
âi called you for nineteen fucking hours.â he said, eyes darting down at you desperately.
you couldnât stop crying. âi know.â
âyour phone was off.â his voice broke slightly, as though the situation had hurt him beyond words. âthat scared me, y/n.â he admitted, chest heaving a little.
your crying only worsened immediately because of course it scared him - jeon jungkook, a man whoâs entire identity was you and you alone. the prospect of losing you for the second time would surely be enough to kill him, and yet answering his calls felt like the last thing you could bring yourself to do.
âi tried not to think like that,â you choked out through hiccups. âi know you wouldnât, logically i know but just kept seeing the pictures of you beside her and..â
your chest was heaving.
âstop talking about her.â
the words came out sharp, almost harsh.
his hand slipped to cup your face, holding your jaw in place whilst his arm slipped down, cupping your body to him so you could rest, his own strength supporting you up. his eyes were wild.
âdonât,â he repeated quieter, chest rising and falling. âdonât..stand here and..fuck, donât compare yourself to someone else for even a second over some shitty tabloid.â
you couldnât stop crying. it was as though that was all you could do.
âjungkook..â
âno.â he cut in immediately, voice cracking at the edges. âyou donât get it.â
he stood before you, a cocktail mix of utter despair and devotion, all whilst anger and fear simmered on the surface, every emotion open on his face to the point he almost felt unrecognisable. you knew he loved you, could see it painted on his features for the world to see but you werenât sure when his feelings for you had become his very destruction. it scared you.
his hand shook around your face.
âyou think i flew half a day because of a fucking dating rumour?â his eyes glazed over. âi donât give a fuck about the tabloids, baby, you know that. i was scared because i know what this would do to you. i know your brain.â
your breath hitched.
âi know you.â he repeated, hands continuing to shake against you. âknow how your mind gets. i know youâd sit here and cry over this shit when you know i would never touch another woman.â
another harsh sob clawed up your throat, and jungkook heaved at the sight as though it was the worst sound he had ever heard.
âlook at me.â he pleaded suddenly.
his hands dropping from your body as he suddenly dropped to his knees - a man of his stature rendered completely broken by the woman he loved. the amount of people who looked up to him, feared him; the amount of people he dictated on a daily basis and yet here he was, on his knees for you. only you.
âthere has never been anyone else.â his voice cracked completely. ânot before you, not after you. not after this, no matter what happens, you hear me? itâs you, and itâs always going to be just you.â
your own knees were begging to give out, as you leaned against him, only for him to rest his face against your stomach, breathing you in like a man desperate for your understanding. he wanted you to see, needed you to comprehend the situation at hand. there was no him without you, the concept didnât exist.
âyouâre the only woman iâve ever loved and there is nothing after you, y/n, because youâre my wife. divorce or not, i donât give a fuck, i belong to you forever whether you want me or not and i wonât..i canât have you thinking otherwise.â
your entire body gave in at the admission as you collapsed into him with another heart breaking sob, jungkook holding you like a man terrified he had said too much and truly not enough. for the first time since the divorce, neither of you tried to pretend this wasnât exactly what it was.
â
the rest of the evening softened after that.
somewhere between the tears and the endless kisses planted to your cheeks, nose, head, hands and stomach came an ease to the panic that had long settled into your bones for the past few months. he refused to let you go, grunting almost childishly whenever youâd move out of his arms to do anything until you found yourself snuggled back into his arms, as though the thought of distance after such a clear cut declaration of love physically pained him.
he looked exhausted now that the adrenaline of the situation had worn off, his under eyes sunken from the exhaustion that had now settled deep into his body. to think he had flown all the way across the world simply because of the thought of you crying all alone over a situation that was so completely false upset him - it made you want to sob all over again.
how could you have ever let him go? how could you proceed forward without him, without him so deeply intertwined in your life once more?
eventually you found an old pair of black shorts mixed in with your clothes from when you had packed your things all those months ago. jungkook had stared at them for a few moments after his shower, towel low on his hips as water droplets slipped down his chest. it had his heart pounding faster than anything yet.
âyou kept these?â he murmured down at you, watching the way your eyes flickered up from his physique, small gasp leaving your lips at being caught. âoh! um..mustâve slipped them in by accident.â
he didnât comment on the fact you were wearing his t-shirt either, despite it hardening his cock.
still, he pulled them on as you settled into bed, your hair still scented from your earlier shower too. you, in his too big top, whilst he grabbed you immediately, shirtless and hands still desperate to hold you in a way he had held back on for so long.
you hummed as your body pressed against his, his figure snaking around your body as a heavy arm curled under your ass as a means to prop you up higher in his arms, causing you to giggle into his neck. your arms wrapped around him too, humming a little under your breath as he breathed in your scent openly.
you both laid there in silence for a long while, breathing. healing.
the room was dark now, with the city lights from afar shining through the slips of your blinds, illuminating slivers of his bare chest beside where your hands sat. you could feel his heartbeat, the way it calmed your already heightened senses as though your body recognised it was finally home.
âmissed this.â you whispered into his ear, only snuggling closer to him.
jungkookâs grip, once on your waist, slid down to your ass once more. this time, his palm sat on your ass cheek, fingers digging into your skin whilst breathing you in.
âdonât say shit like that to me when iâm hard.â he grunted, a small smile forming across your lips. you hadnât even done anything, not that you needed to to get jungkook bothered.
when you pulled him from your neck, his eyes were already glazed over, both of you taking a second to simply stare at one another in the exact way you had wanted for so long. his mouth parted, as his hooded eyes took you in, holding you closer, tighter.
within seconds, his lips touched yours.
slowly, at first, as though he was trying to relearn you after years of you being his. he savoured every moment of your lips against his, especially once you started to kiss him back, both of you uncertain in the beginning but once your hands began to find home in his hair, it was then that jungkookâs touch began to grow in confidence.
he kissed like a man starved, one hand buried in your hair too whilst the other continued to grip your ass possessively, as though physically feeling you was enough to have his mind go into overdrive. every small sound you made went straight to his cock as he swallowed your little sighs and whimpers, only pushing him to kiss you deeper and deeper and deeper.
he was growing desperate, pushing you down against the bed, half hovering over you as he rested on one arm, hand cupping at your thighs, your stomach, your knee. anything he could get his hands on all whilst his tongue explored your mouth as though he had every right.
perhaps he did because despite everything, the divorce and distance, the heartbreak - he still reacted to you like you were the only thing capable of fucking him up.
his lips eventually drifted from your mouth, pressing against your chin, your jaw and finally your neck. oh, this sweet, pretty little neck, he had dreams of marking it up and down every other night and the fact he had you in his arms now, in a bed far too small for the things he so desperately wanted to do to you was everything and more.
jungkook moved, properly hovering over you now just as you moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, pushing your top down your thighs and revealing your lace panties you had conveniently put on. just in case, of course.
he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths as you watched it break apart the further he pulled his head back. just staring at you hurt, with the way your cheeks had flushed and your hair was spread all across the pillow, and your thighs. fuck. the sight of what was between them had him openly groaning down at you.
âneed you to tell me to stop baby, or i wonât be able to hold back.â he hissed down at you, feeling your legs tighten around him before he could finish his sentence.
your hands moved to the waistband of his shorts, eyes never leaving his as you tugged on it just slightly. jungkook, whoâs two hands were on either side of your head, blinked down at you half in awe and other agony, the prospect of you teasing him in a moment like this his literal worst nightmare. you always knew how to make him impatient, said it was the best version of him.
he watched with bated breath as you grabbed one of his arms until his hand was in your own, slowly pushing it under your top to rest on your stomach. it felt heavy on your frame, large palm heating your already hot skin before you pulled him down, other arm wrapping around his neck.
âwanna feel you here, kookie.â you whispered into his ear.
jungkook nearly took you then and there.
his jaw flexed, a heavy leaving his lips as he chased your lips, planting another kiss. âyeah? want kookie deep inside?â
âmhm.â you hummed against him, placing your hand over his on your stomach.
âbut havenât taken me for so long, baby. might be too much.â
you closed your eyes at that - the way he cooed down at you despite telling you how easily he could ruin you, break you. it all felt like too much and yet the empty ache inside of you reminded you it wasnât enough, causing you to merely nod.
âi donât care. want it.â
the pout on your lips. fuck. jungkook thanked the gods he was a better man, more patient, especially knowing you were doing this on purpose.
âalways used to struggle to take me, hm? fucked you open every night and youâd still cry.â
jungkook reached forward, lips on your neck once more but this time, his hips began chasing yours, grinding down almost harshly, causing you to feel every inch, every vein against the flimsy material you called panties. it was heavenly
your hands grabbed him by his biceps, smaller hands unable to wrap around the circumference of his skin. how could you forget your nights of passion? he would spend hours between your legs, so mean, orgasm after orgasm and he still wouldnât feel satisfied, an insatiable man to his core. even on nights youâd argue, it would somehow end in you fucking which meant the last eight months had been utter hell.
your poor fingers couldnât reach far enough and nothing brought you to an orgasm unless you thought of him, imagining it was own digits instead of your own.
silly you - if only you realised how similar you and jungkook were. he couldnât get off unless he was on your instagram, staring at your pretty eyes and lips as he tugged on his cock with all of his energy, round after round after round only to be constantly dissatisfied. having you below him, so ready to be his again? it fucked with his head.
âyou'll make it fit.â you whispered.
within mere moments, neither of you could wait. his shorts, alongside the large tshirt that originally belonged to him were on the floor, leaving you in your lacy panties alone. his boxers strained against his hardened length which oozed precum at the mere sight of you, hips bucking a little as you watched him groan out loud at the wet patch forming against the flimsy material.
âmy pretty pussy.â he whispered, just as he parted your legs. his fingers pushed your panties to the side, almost hissing from how damp they were, knowing you must have been needy for a while. âmissed her. youâve been holding out on me, baby.â
your eyelashes fluttered up at him at the first touch of his fingers running up and down your slit. you let out an airy moan, barely audible, your body immediately easing back into the covers now that you could finally feel him on you.
he suckled on your neck whilst he circled your clit, knowing your body better than anyone. you were both so in tune with each otherâs wants and needs that an eight month break between you both meant nothing when he bit against the sweet spot on your neck all whilst applying more pressure.
you squeaked, nails digging into his biceps at the harshness of his fingers.
âfuck, youâre so needy.â he grunted, pulling away from your neck after leaving a hefty purple bruise. ânot been touching your pussy the way it needs.â
âdoesnât feel..â you moaned louder. âdoesnât feel good if you donât do it.â
his eyes almost rolled back at that. âyeah? need kookie to be the one to touch you?â
âmhm.â
at that, he pulled his hand away only resulting in a loud whine from you. so cruel, to have been given a taste, only to have it pulled away from you.
your positions, however, suddenly changed as jungkook realised the space on the bed was much smaller compared to the bed you had once shared. he rested his back on your wooden bed frame before grabbing you properly, resting you in his lap against his too hard cock, spreading your legs wide.
your back was against his chest, all whilst he caged you in, his fingers returning to your cunt immediately.
this new position had you so much more exposed, as he pushed your thighs apart, index finger circling your hole before slowly pushing inside. your eyebrows furrowed, watching him with a shake to your breath as he took his time, knowing a single one of his was the equivalent of two or three of your own - a though that had him wanting to fuck into you already.
the loud moan that left your lips once he fully inserted it was enough to have him kissing at your temple, cooing.
âlike that?â
âfeels big.â you whispered back with a shake, feeling him pump in and out.
at that, jungkook thought he was ready to fucking cum. even your pussy was as sweet as you were - too big? one finger and you were already fucked out, but he knew he had to stretch you to accommodate him, a thought that brought a nasty little smirk on his face.
âgotta fuck you open, baby. always so tight.â he continued to coo at you, all as you looked up at him, his finger being joined with another.
soon enough, he was roughly fingering you, all whilst you both maintained eye contact, often breaking it just to share a kiss as though neither of you could get closer to the other. the feeling of him inside you, just like you had become used to for so many years after months apart was the definition of pleasure, your eyes hooded with each pump.
âfeels sâgood.â you slurred slightly, chest heaving.
he watched your breasts, your bed squeaking with each passing movement and he fucking loved it. loved having your eyes on him, loved having your tits bounced everytime heâd fuck you open a little harder, your sweet moans filling the space.
you could feel how hard he was, but everytime you tried to turn to pleasure him too, heâd merely hold you tighter, as though your orgasm was the only objective on his mind. he wanted to eat you out, fuck - the thought had him all but growling at you but he knew heâd never last, promising himself heâd save that for later tonight.
âwish you knew how many times iâve dreamt about this.â he grunted down at you, as he watched your thighs try to close from the onslaught of pleasure, only for him to widen them immediately. âiâm constantly fisting my cock thinking about you. at work, at home, in the fucking car.â
âwhat do you think about?â you pressed desperately, needing to hear it.
jungkook bared his teeth at you slightly, all whilst his pace quickened. âthink about breeding you, pumping you full of cum till youâre begging me to stop. every morning, every night until youâre pregnant with our baby. youâd like that, hm?â
you could have sobbed. like was an understatement, your legs widening with each passing word as you nodded almost desperately at him, looking up and above where his head tilted down to watch you.
your eyes then fluttered shut at the image of him touching himself, almost shuddering out of relief at the thought of him so infatuated that he had to cum just to get you off of his mind. especially at work - the whole reason of your divorce being his dedication to his occupation and now knowing you had your affect on him there too? it was euphoric.
âthink about you all the time.â you whimpered back at him, pout so cute he wanted to scream. âtried..fuck..tried to touch myself after the gala..but wasnât enough.â
he watched as you shook your head up at him, one of your hands on his wrist as the same hand pumped faster inside of you at the admission. he cursed under his breath, letting out a deep exhale.
âshouldâve told me. fuck, y/n. wouldâve ruined you then, baby, you know that right?â he nuzzled into your cheek. âwouldâve let you use me as much as you want.â
it was your turn to whimper under your breath, as your eyes shut tight at the familiar feeling in your stomach starting to creep up. it was shocking, how slowly it managed to creep on you, and yet you could feel every inch of its intensity, the first in a long time where you know youâd feel satisfied.
jungkook could feel you clenching, your too tight hole sucking him in desperately as a bid to have him go meaner on you, to which he was more than happy to oblige with. he grabbed your chin with his other hand, forcing your head back so youâd open your eyes again. he wanted to watch.
âeyes on me, pretty girl.â
you werenât sure if it was the sweet way he cooed at you, or the brutal pace he was now forcing you to take but your orgasm hit you like a freight train. you let out a loud squeak as electricity fluttered through from your head to your toes, your hips rising whilst he continued to finger you through your high, hissing at how sexy you looked maintaining eye contact.
his pace didnât lessen, devoted to longing out every hit of pleasure for as long as possible, your legs shaking as you pawed at his wrist, but he refused to stop. your body began falling into overstimulation, whining loudly as your weakened hands grabbed onto his, feeling him finally slow whilst he remained two fingers deep, pushed inside of you all the way to his knuckles.
he curled them one last time, causing a shaky breath to leave you before slowly removing them inch by inch.
the emptiness inside of you was horrible, a reminder of what else you wanted and how badly. your big eyes met his, only to watch him take his fingers press them against your pouted lips until they parted, your tongue wrapping around. you tasted yourself, a sweet sigh leaving his lips at the sight of you sucking so eagerly, his cock jolting harshly in his boxers.
âstill donât think you can take me right now.â he whispered down at you, other hand moved so it was openly cupping your pussy as a whole, palm brushing against your hypersensitive clit.
you jolted which each passing touch, breathing shaky before you took his fingers out of your mouth, saliva coating them where your slick once was.
âdonât care, kookie. i want it anyway.â you grumbled slightly, and he swore he had never loved you more.
it was your turn to move as you pulled away from his grasp, giggling a little to yourself at the look on his face once you put space between you, only to turn around, so you were laying on your stomach. he remained in his position, legs on either side of you allowing you to press your hand against his massive bulge.
oh, how youâd missed his cock.
you were as impatient as ever as you pulled his boxers down enough so that his fat cock could finally spring free, watching the way it tilted upwards at first, but its weight forced it down lower and lower until it was resting almost gently on your face.
he wanted to take a picture. wanted to make it his screen saver, your contact picture in his phone - he wanted it in his fucking wallet. his girl, eyes all hooded after being bratty for his cock? you were a minx and you didnât even know it.
âdonât have a condom.â he found himself whispering at you, just as you began to pump him.
you tilted your head at him, hand unable to wrap around his length as you slowly teased his slit, fingers brushing against it just to him shudder. you watched his face, watched his very composure crumble before your very eyes all whilst he muttered something about a condom? your mind was barely working, still sensitive from the way he had made you cum and the horniness still in your stomach.
âwhy would i want you to wear a condom?â you whispered up at him, as though it was a little secret between you.
you watched his eyes darken in real time, narrowing down at you as both of his large hands grabbed the back of your head. you giggled, resting your cheek on his thigh whilst you continued to pump his cock, focusing on the tip just the way he liked it. the heaviness in your hand was what you missed the most, causing you to leave a little kiss to it on the mushroom tip, your fluttering eyes only driving him more and more insane.
he wouldnât last like this. not with you staring up at him like that.
and so, he pulled your hair. you whimpered, pussy clenching as he pulled you up by your locks, your large eyes completely taken over by how rough he was being with you, no doubt being fuelled by the heightened emotions of the past two days. this was your favourite jungkook, secretly of course.
within seconds, you were on your back once more, all whilst he grabbed your hips and yanked you close to him. he dropped down to give you a kiss on your lips, savouring the taste and feel of you before beginning to rub his cock up and down your tight hole.
âmy girl.â he whispered against your mouth. âno going back after this.â
your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of him teasing you, pushing the tip against your hole only to pull back the second it began inserting, rubbing it up and down and over your clit once more. he was a tease through and through, but you were too needy to see reason.
âdonât wanna go back, want it all.â you simply whimpered back.
your words were enough to finally have him pushing inside of you.
first, the tip. your face contorted to the familiar feel of his cock slowly inserting inside of you, your breath catching slightly at the sheer size of him - you struggled to take him even when your sex life was incredibly active, so you knew now that you hadnât been touched for eight months, this was going to be hard.
you watched his face harden, all whilst your eyes slipped downwards to see him pushing further in, inch by inch, until your fingernails were puncturing the skin of his outer arms. he watched your face instead, willing himself not to cum at the way your jaw grew slack, big eyes only widening further at the too large cock settling in inside of you.
it was too much, too big, too at once. you couldnât think, could barely see and yet you couldnât pull yourself away from watching him bottom out even if you wanted to, a slight bulge evident where he sat deep inside of you. his large hand took a hold of yours and kissed it before pressing it against the bulge, only to rest his own right on top. applying pressure, he hissed at the way you let out a loud whimper, your cute thighs trembling around him.
âfeel that?â he whispered down at you, nuzzling your nose to force you to look at him. âthats where i fucking belong. this pussy stretches so good for me every time.â
your lip was already trembling, a sight that had his cock throbbing deep inside of you as you clenched down on him hard. his cry baby - he loved seeing you teary during sex.
you were still adjusting as he began to move, causing you to squeal, but jungkook couldnât wait anymore, not when heâd been dealt with blue balls for close to a year. you were the only option, pledging to live a life of fucking celibacy if youâd have chosen to never let him inbetween your legs again though the thought killed him inside. live a life without a taste of your sweet pussy? heâd sooner die.
âjungkook!â you slapped the tops of his biceps, as he continued his thrusting inside of you, nipping at your jaw, feeling his smirk against your skin.
the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you was intense, something you had been craving for so long now and yet now it was happening, you wanted more, and more and more and more and more. he loved this shy game youâd always play, always pretending like you couldnât take it despite the fact your legs were widening further and you were moaning like a bitch in heat - it turned him on beyond words to know underneath the sweet persona, you were the filthiest slut he had ever known.
his pace was deep, mean but slow and it wasnât enough, purposefully done to tease you for as long as he could, to ensure youâd stay needy. it was clearly working with the way your moans, whines and gasps filled the air only to be followed with a long drawl of his name, face scrunched up so cute he wanted to fucking scream.
âcâmon, baby, youâre so good to me.â he cooed, continuing his slow thrusts. âjust gotta ask if you want something.â
your eyes scrunched shut, whimpering at his words knowing he wanted you in ways that you had reminisced on for months, the feeling of him kissing the gummy part of your cunt something you had missed so much.
âwant it properly, kookie.â you begged him, though you couldnât meet his gaze, eyes flickering down to his neck as he continued his pace. âyeah? tell kookie how you want it.â
your fingers clung to his shoulders as he came down, arms now pressed on either side of your head as he nuzzled your nose with his own, actions too sweet given the sinful position he had you in.
your breathing was ragged, the feel of him inside you too much for your poor little mind to handle without breaking and yet it wasnât nearly enough. you craved something harsher, meaner, more jungkook. neither of you had ever been ones for soft sex, always preferring it as needy as possible which only heightened considering the fact you were both so utterly obsessive when it came to the other.
you whined loudly as his actions came to a stop completely, now grinding against you whilst still being inside.
âjust want you to fuck me properly.â you whimpered, lip quivering so much faster, hips lifting to meet his as a means to relieve yourself.
god. you were killing him.
âgood girl.â
jungkook planted a single kiss to your lips, oddly sweet before pulling back, planting two more to your forehead and nose. you were ready to whine once more until you felt his hips pull back, only to thrust into you harshly.
you squealed as jungkook began his pace exactly how you craved it, exactly how you used to picture with your own fingers in your cunt, desperately trying and failing to replicate the feel. hard. fast. mean. rough.
your neighbours would no doubt complain tomorrow with the way your bed frame began pounding into the wall, his head pressed against yours as his thrusts began kissing your cervix. your legs shook around him, much to his enjoyment, all whilst he forced you to maintain eye contact, wanting so badly to see the affect he was having on you after he had been deprived of you for so long.
âfuck..there she is. thatâs my girl.â he hissed down at you, not holding back, the sound of skin slapping against skin heavy in the room. âyou donât know how badly i missed you.â
âm-missed..ugh! missed you..too..â you managed to string together, salted tears now escaping your eyes as they streamed on either side of the pillow.
âpretty girl like you needs to be fucked mean. no good to be nice to you, huh?â he growled down at you, only causing your lip to quiver that much faster as you nodded. âcanât think unless itâs me bullying your pussy into an orgasm.â
your nods were paired with soft sobs as he pounded, ruining your soppy core just like you had wanted. you had dreamt of this, dreamt of him, genuinely believing youâd never reach this state of pleasure ever again in your life and yet here he was, coaxing it out of you to remind you that heâd never leave you again.
his thrusts were sloppier than usual, no doubt due to the extensive length between your last fuck but it only had you moaning and crying louder. the thought of the usually composed jeon jungkook a whining mess for you and you alone had you clamping down hard on his cock.
âcanât believe i let you leave me.â he grunted hard at the feel of you getting so tight, gritting his teeth as he pounded you further. ânever again. you fucking hear me, y/n? youâre my wife forever.â
âpromise?â you sobbed back, arms now wrapping around his neck as you tried to bring him impossibly closer, as though you could in any capacity.
he nipped at your bottom lip, moaning into your mouth at the way you all but begged him to make it a reality.
âgonna take you to the courthouse tomorrow, get you a nice dress and we do..fuck..we do this again, understand?â he closed his eyes the more you whined and whined. âgonna let me put that ring back on your fucking finger, baby?â
you nodded wildly, just as you felt your orgasm build up in your stomach again, whining loudly up at him in a way he recognised immediately. fuck, he had missed this so much - his angel girl, all needy, begging for it even though she could barely take it. he could feel his own coming on fast, causing him to pull his hand down and rub at your clit, hissing at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock harshly.
âcâmon baby. want you to cum on your husbandâs cock, hm? gonna get you nice and round like you deserve.â his thrusts only got meaner. âmove you back in. fuck this pussy every single day, just like you need.â
your high rushed through you at the exact point his did, your legs wrapping around his waist as a means to keep him inside. you could feel it all through your body, the way it seized up and bucked into him all whilst he continued his thrusts, fucking you through both of your orgasms.
your vision started growing dark, the intensity of it overwhelming as he rode out your highs whilst whispering soft i love youâs in your ear, cradling you to his chest, holding you closer than youâd ever felt him before.
everything after that completely blurred together.
you remembered jungkook taking care of you, tenderness laced into his very being as he held you like you were akin to a porcelain doll - sweet, so soft, so delicate. somewhere between the damp kisses pressed to your skin underneath the bubbling bath he had drawn for you both, to the continuous declarations of love muttered down at you; you realised that this was inevitable. he was inevitable.
there didnât exist a reality where you both could live without one another - you knew that now.
even after the heartbreak, the divorce, the loneliness and the debilitating grief, you still found yourself exactly where you belonged. your cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat soothing you into a dreamlike state which paled in comparison to the reality that was now yours. his love had you wrapped so tightly you knew youâd never live without it again.
you were finally home.
â
this beast of a fic is finally done yay!!! i hope you guys love ex husband jungkook just as much as i do!
tried to make him less yandere in this one and more pathetic yearner lol but i may have slipped here and there đ
iâd love to hear your thoughts on this - love hearing you guys after a fic drops so iâm excited to see what you all think!!!!
if you wanna help support me pay my disgusting, awful, horrific london rent, my kofi is linked <3
⼠Bang Chan x Reader (f) â 18.7k â Read Act 1 here
⼠Prison, Inmate x Doctor, Crazy in Love
⼠Contains: Chris as the neediest dom you've ever seen and his graduation from Machiavelli's Ph.D. program, no intention to be factually accurate, Jakey Jakey, Rosa Diaz shoutout, Regina diss, dramatic angst leading up to enough cum to repopulate a small country, so much yearning that "I burn for you" can never
⼠Reader discretion advised: See the masterlist for the general warnings about this collection. By continuing, you accept to read at your own risk.
â â (Non-exhaustive, full cw policy here): Delusional and distorted sense of reality caused by extreme intense devotion, themes of revenge, violence, off-screen attempted assault, crimes of passion, sabotage of birth control, fictional aphrodisiacs, sex in a(n unused) chapel
*a/n: If you haven't read Act I, this will feel like starting a show from the second season, and some references will not make sense. Watch Season 1 first to catch up with the events up to this point, then enjoy the show! đş
Thoughts have a way of popping into your head whenever they damn please, which is why they donât count towards your tally of sins. If they counted, no one would be able to pass by the gates of heaven, let alone earn a residency permit.Â
To emerge victorious from your battle with guilt, that was how you justified obsessively touching yourself to Chris. At ungodly hours of the night. Sometimes first thing in the morning.Â
But it should not matter, should it? A fantasy was just a fantasy. Nobody could be chastised for it because it just popped into your head whenever it damn pleased. So what if it involved an inmate? So what if it involved a patient? The star of your steamy daydreams was nobodyâs goddamn business as long as you didnât act on it.
But you did.Â
When you crossed that forbidden line, Hippocrates wasnât the only man you had broken your promise to, and your loveless imprisonment didnât make the facts any less true. You had still cheated on your husband. With an inmate. A patient.
And it tasted so fucking delicious that you would do it all over again.Â
Say it, and Iâm yours.
How could you not? Nobody had ever asked to be yours before.Â
Nobody but Chris.
A bunch of stale words that didnât mean much, but when he whispered them into your ear, they meant everything, possessing you to do things you wouldnât even do to get out of death row. Barely a taste, and you were already addicted. Just one touch, and it was like you were the one convicted. Seventeen counts of soulslaughter for each lick on your most neglected corners with ferocious lupine abandon.
Yes, you had counted it.
You knew there was nothing absolvable about it. You knew goddamn well it was a mistake that should never be repeated. Then why did the mere thought of his skin on yours incite an uncontainable fire inside you?Â
Why did you keep catching yourself trying to make it happen again?Â
The ulterior motive was hidden under such innocent layers that it was invisible to the eye that wasnât looking for it. Just painting your nails black because he mentioned he loved the color one time. Just putting on jewelry because he âjokedâ youâd be matching if you wore silver. Just wearing stilettos because he said in passing they would look âfucking fantasticâ on you. Just picking certain dresses because they were long enough to wear at work but short enough to make him stare at your legs and drool⌠You knew he liked it. He fucking loved those little treats you were feeding him, whether he was being a good boy or not. You knew they were driving him crazy, and nothing got you wetter than enticing him to the point of torture. Watching him sweat, cheeks flushed, thickly gulping, spacing out imagining god knows what with those gorgeous lips parted, licking them, biting them, baiting you into kissing them⌠But not like a coy, flustered lamb.Â
Outrageously brazen like a werewolf in rut.
He wouldnât even blink as he stripped you bare just with his gaze, devouring you whole, his eyes all hooded. He wouldnât even pretend the touches he stole from you were an accident. Fuck, he didnât even feel the need to hide the strain in his pants anymore, spreading his legs wide open as the perfect frame for the mouthwatering exhibition. You know, for you to⌠admire.Â
With that size, it was damn near impossible not to imagine a belly bulge when he buried himself into you to the hilt.Â
The days he felt particularly adventurous were the best. He would make sure to find an excuse to gently press himself against you like he was showing homework. If you listened close enough, you could almost hear the crazed monologue inside his head.
Look at what you do to me. Do you like it, huh? Do you fucking enjoy torturing me? Is this big enough for you? Does it make you salivate? Does it make you wanna sit on it? Would you suck it off? Can I cum on your face? Can I cum in your mouth? Can I cum in your pussy? Can I cum in your ass? Can I slather your entire body with my cum? Can I lick it off of you all night long? Will you have my children? Please? Please? PLEASE?!!!
He wouldnât even dare have any hopes, but maybe, just maybe, you would decide to reward him, who knows? Maybe you would take some responsibility for his misery. One day. Just one of these days. And you were going to.
Because Chris never got his own hands dirty.Â
He would push it to the limit, but then back off, leaving you to seethe in your fiery avidity, and it was getting a little harder each day to keep your dignity. All these seduction games you played, but he still wasnât doing⌠that.Â
And he knew youâd turn up the heat until he fucking snapped.
Less and less subtle every day. No longer coincidental brushes of your arm on his, but deliberate presses. No longer heaving tired sighs, but letting slip tiny moans under the guise of fatigue. Sexier scents, bolder colors, tighter clothes, all strategically revealing. All for the wolf who riddled your mind with fatally dangerous thoughts. All for the siren who sang the forgotten songs of your womanhood. All for the man who made you feel wanted, desired, lusted after in the most barbaric sense possible, and you welcomed it. You encouraged it. You not only craved it, but wanted it to get so much worse. You wanted to see him on his knees. You wanted to hear him beg. You wanted to taste his desperation. You wanted him to mindlessly devote himself to you. You wanted Chris.
It was all for the devil you had sold your soul to on a whim.Â
All for himâŚ
Chris had been losing sleep over you for quite some time already, but this time it was different. This time, he didnât have to use his imagination at all. He still couldnât believe it wasnât a fever dream, but he knew what you tasted like now. What you smelled like, what you felt like, what you sounded like, and all he wanted to do was drown all his senses in you.Â
You.Â
You.Â
You.Â
You.Â
You.Â
âChrisâŚâ
The best part of the day. Falling asleep cumming to the visions of his angel.Â
He soaked his palm and imagined how he would stretch your tightness inch by inch, lazily stroking his length. God, he just knew you were the perfect fit. Maybe you would struggle to take him at first, but no matter; he had nowhere to be other than inside you. He would be so so gentle as you took your sweet time. He would let you adjust. He would let you breathe. Kiss you wet. Caress you open. He would make love to you if that was how you liked it, of course, butâŚÂ
What if under your layers of grace lay a nasty little freak that came out only for him?Â
What if you were down to fuck because he would love to drill you into the nearest surface and call you names only he was allowed to while pulling your hair. Fuck, it would take his entire self-control not to cream you if he heard you beg. Fuck, he might just draw his last breath if he fucked the smartest woman he knew dumb. Fuck, he might be the one turning into a needy, clingy sub if you wrapped your fingers around his neck and ordered him to get on his knees. Oh, fuckâŚ
Fuck.
FUCK!!!
He closed his fist tighter and picked up his pace.Â
Either keep me inside you forever or just kill me already.Â
The way you reacted to him⌠So eager. So intense. Ainât no fucking way you werenât just as touch-starved as him, amazed by the maddening levels of gratification a simple wet touch could give you. It felt good, didnât it? It felt great to melt in his mouth. It felt fucking incredible to be selfishly pleasured for once, and he got to be the first one to show you that. He got to be the first one to open the gates of hell for you. He got to be the first one to discover your flavor, and he would do anything to acquire the exclusive rights to your taste.
As far as Chris was concerned, you had lost your virginity to him, and the only way to make it right was to give you his last name. As any gentleman should.
You were perfect for each other, and he was born ready to dedicate his life to serving you. Learn all your hotspots. Study the angle of your arched back. Carve the bible of your pleasure into his brain so he could induce a climax on command. Satiate you in ways you didnât even know were possible. Anytime you want. Any way you want. Anything you want as long as he gets to absorb you under his skin.
His strokes suddenly turned much faster.
Do you want me as bad as I want you? Â
And faster.
Do you think of me when you touch yourself, too?Â
And faster.
Nothing Iâve ever felt was this true.
âTouch me, Chris.â
God, I love you. I fucking LOVE YOU!!!
Chris had lost count of how many times he came to the thought of you in his bed, in bathroom stalls, in the shower, wherever and whenever he got a minute to himself. Up until that moment in his life, he had ejaculated in different holes of different people just for the fuck of it.
But not once, never once, was he riddled with the venom of jealousy when the clarity hit.Â
He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, throwing an arm over his forehead. If it werenât for a certain waste of oxygen, his reality would be a lot different. That jerkoff was the only thing standing in the way of your love, but it was at least not an un-get-rid-of-able nuisance. The chink in the armor of lowlifes like your husband was always the same.Â
But Chris wasnât about to just sit around and wait for the happy ending credits to roll.
As the sole possessor of the newly-found kryptonite between your legs, he had every intention to abuse it until he turned you into a fiend. Until you were numb to the feeling. Until you begged him to stop. You know what, maybe not. Maybe he would conveniently forget how to stop; he hadnât decided yet. He was too busy obsessing over finding excuses to taste you again.Â
As much as you were obsessing over getting him hungry enough to jump you on sight.
You werenât even doing it willingly anymoreâevery second your mind was idle, Chris was popping into your head to star in extremely X-rated scenarios. At the gym. By the sea. In a fucking alley. Naked, sweaty, panting down your neck, moaning into your ear, addicted to your taste. It was impossible to stop these red-hot visions once they started playing, and OF COURSE a certain somebody would notice the way you were wriggling in your place for no reason at all, fanning yourself in a room that was 12 degrees Celsius.
The hearts in his eyes were so comically large that it was an enigma how Chris still had 20/20 vision. Well, complete tunnel vision on you, but stillâŚ
Of course he would get cocky when his girl enjoyed the view this much. Of course he would put his body more on display for you every chance he got. Of course he would let you admire his figure when he carried huge supply boxes on delivery days, fixed stuff around the office, or walked around topless when âthe room got too hotâ at 12 degrees Celsius.
The jury was still out on whether that last one was premium quality porn or pure fucking torture.
Listen, it was for your viewing pleasure, okay? You didnât need to know how he produced his live show for you. So what if he was occasionally messing with the thermostat? He just needed an excuse to shed a few layers, and that was it. It was never his intention to get you to do thingsâhe loved you too much to disrespect your modesty with cheap, underhanded means.Â
But the days you took off your lab coat were lucky ones. Who wouldnât enjoy the accidental curly fries, right?
That afternoon, at the fifth minute of watching you press your legs together like you were itching, Chris finally pierced the thick silence encapsulating the room.
âYou okay?â
You turned to him, staring daggers as if he said something egregiously offensive, because as far as you were concerned, he had.
Okay? OKAY?!
No, you werenât okayâyou were wet. Soaking wet. Fucking dripping, so much so that you had to change your underwear twice a day lately, HOW was that even possible? You had never felt anything like this for anyone, and it was getting embarrassing that your body was reacting to Chris as if it had just gone through spring awakening.Â
âYes. Why?â you returned his question as nonchalantly as possible.Â
âNothing,â he responded with an annoying grin. âYou just look a bit⌠antsy.â
Antsy, huh? Antsy.
Yes, Iâm fucking antsy. Iâm antsy because of you. Do it again. Donât make me say it, just fucking do it again. Put me on this desk again. Kneel between my legs again. Put my pussy in your mouth. Kiss my clit. Lick it good. Suck on it until you make me seize. Iâm gonna DIE if I canât find out what it feels like to cum in your mouth!!!
You kept your silence, but you might as well have yelled all of it at Chrisâ face. Your pupils were blown so wide that if anyone saw you right now, they would think you were high out of your ass, which⌠well, wouldnât be entirely false considering you stared at Chris the whole day. The intense heat you were exuding was as scorching as a desert afternoon during peak summer. The sighs you were heaving were becoming sharper, taking a turn from yearning for something to homicidally irritated.Â
But his absolute favorite sign telling him that you were writhing in frustration, merely a light breeze away from falling apart in his hands, was your scent.Â
It had sweetened again, just like it did every time you got wet, inducing this weird urge in him to drizzle you on a stack of pancakes. Or a pile of waffles. Or his throbbing cock, whichever tickled your fancy.
Chris knew you wanted him, so desperately that he could mold you into any shape he wanted right now should he so wished. He loved you too much, but he could smell it in the air that you wanted him to disrespect your modesty using cheap, underhanded means or otherwise. The bottom line was, you wanted him.Â
Almost as desperately as he wanted you.
âTsk, but youâre working too hard,â he swiveled his chair towards you and pulled yours closer to him. âIf something happens to you, whoâs gonna take care of us?â
ME. He meant, Whoâs gonna take care of ME? Whoâs gonna kiss ME? Whoâs gonna love ME?
Out of nowhere, he gently reached for your bare legs and rested them on his lap under your curious gaze. He wasnât necessarily doing anything obscene, just undoing the straps of your shoes with unrushed movements, but it somehow felt full-on pornographic when he was doing it.Â
âJust look how tense you are,â he pressed his thumbs on the soles of your bare feet, drawing firm circles on your pressure points.
It could very well be because he knew human anatomy, or because he practiced wizardry, but in any case, the neural wiring of those points seemed to be faulty. Chris was doing one hell of a job massaging you, but instead of relaxing, you were getting tenser. The tension was draining from your feet, but it was pooling between your legs instead.
You were imagining each one of those circles on your clit, masterfully performed by his tongue because how could you fucking not?
âOh, wow, youâre⌠Youâre really good at this,â you tried your hardest to keep your cool and not completely melt into your chair, then jokingly asked. âHow much do you charge for weekly appointments?â
First of all, rude.
Weekly? He was offering you comatose pampering all day everyday, and you only wanted it weekly?Â
Were you allergic to pleasure, by any chance?
âFor you, free of charge. Obviously,â he replied rather seriously. âI wanna do things for you, not to you. You donât owe me anything in return.â
The kick in your chest was so hard that he must have heard it. As the burning sensation on your cheeks was intensifying, the tingles between your legs were multiplying. How could they not? Nobody had ever asked for nothing from you in return.Â
Nobody but Chris.
âI just want toâŚâ he heaved a deep, deep sigh with a straight face, âmake you feel good.âÂ
That was a lie.
Well, not entirely. Of course he wanted to make you feel good, but that wasnât just what he wanted. At that moment, he didnât want to fuck you, either. He didnât want to have sex with you. He didnât want to make love to you.Â
He wanted to crawl into your ribcage, hug your heart to sleep, and give you the most brutal orgasm of your life just with a kiss on it. He wanted you to want him. He wanted you to crave him. He wanted you to get anxious when you couldnât touch him. He wanted to worship you till the end of his days.
He lifted his head up and locked eyes with you, and all of a sudden, something shifted. Seeing you watch him with bated breath like that, awaiting his every move, thickly swallowing, lips parted⌠Chris lost all control of the steering wheel of his willpower, and something within him violently snapped.
Remember the thing youâd been goading him into with your black nail polish, the cute dresses, the silver jewelry, and the fucking stilettos?Â
That.
Forty hours. You owed him forty hours. And in his universe, one second passed in a hundred years.
Time turned viscous all of a sudden.
Stilettos on the floor, bare legs on his lap, tense feet in his hands, his eyes locked with yours⌠You were too scared to breathe. You were too scared to blink, but not because of some imminent danger. You were scared the slightest flinch would make Chris come to his senses, and heâd back off.Â
And you couldnât have that.Â
You had been waiting too long for this. You had been working too hard for this, and if this moment didnât go the way you had pictured it to be, you were going to make it go that way because even a woman of your poise had her fucking limits.
Look into my eyes. Hear what they are saying to you. Come closer. Kiss me again. Touch me again. Feel me again, but feel me like a starved man.
Guilt? What guilt?
Chris was too scared to move, just staring at you with his breathing slowed way down. He knew that there was no turning back from this. The second he moved, he was going to be at the mercy of his suffocating longing for you, which was no mercy at all. It had been looking for the tiniest crack to infiltrate his mind and declare a coup. This was it. This was that moment.Â
The only thing that could stop his sanity from capsizing would be your explicit command to back off, and if you didnât give that order right fucking now⌠If you didnât give that⌠If youâŚ
Five seconds, you werenât giving it.Â
Ten seconds, you werenât giving it.Â
The ship was sinking fast, and you were just watching it!
On the thirtieth second, Chris Bang from Crown Street no longer held the reins of his free will. He closed his eyes and embraced the fact that his fate was to drown in the waters of you.Â
What an honorable way to dieâŚ
He meant every word when he said he wanted to be the floor you walked on. Because then you would have to feel him at all times. Because then he could kiss each of your steps to thank you for gracing him with your touch.
And he was finally going to know what that would feel like.
He turned his gaze to your foot in his hands, his face expressionless, and slowly brought it to his lips. His eyes fluttered close like he was going under as he placed feather-like kisses on each of your toes, extremely softly like he was trying not to spook a gazelle. The kisses alone were more than enough to quicken your pulse, but when he wrapped his lips around your toes and started sucking on themâŚ
âFucking flawlessâŚâ he uttered barely above a whisper.
Your gasp came out stuttered. Your breathing got a lot heavier. You couldnât help how your eyes rolled back feeling his tongue on your skin again, and something was poking your other foot resting so close to Chrisâ crotch.Â
The gentle sucks turned into wet kisses on your ankles. Then up your legs. He was gradually making his way to his preferred deathbed that was your thighs, but you still werenât stopping him.
From this moment on, the arrow was out of the bow, and he was not going to accept any responsibility for the things he was about to do to you.
âI know you want it, and you know that I know,â he pulled your chair even closer towards himself. âWhy are you playing games with me, angel?â
Your entire body was covered in goosebumps. A name. A bespoke name for you. A loving one. Something nobody had ever given you before.
Nobody but Chris.
âDo you really want to hear it? Is that what this is?â he asked, his eyes half-closed like he was drunk as he spoke into your lips. âIs this why you are dragging me through your hell, angel?â
You had long lost the ability to talk. You were just staring at him, loving the way he was quietly spiraling, but he still wasnât touching you. His hands hovered over your skin, your lips, your cheeks, your arms⌠They eventually landed on your knees like two autumn leaves barely alive, almost weightless. His breath hitched in his throat when he started sliding them up your thighs, the sheer feeling of your soft, warm skin driving him to the absolute limit of his insanity.Â
The way he was struggling to keep his greed on a leash was like watching a wolf go into heat in a glass cage.
He silently got on his knees before you, then looked up. The anticipation that dripped from your eyes, your lips slightly parted, your body all tensed up begging for its release, inviting him, enticing him to come be one with you⌠His gaze never once leaving yours, he licked his lips, hooked a finger behind your underwear, and started dragging it down. Unrushed. Languid. But terrifyingly dangerous.
Like a mute starved man.
âJust let me fucking die between your legs,â was the last thing you heard before Chris buried his head into your cunt, sending your soul booking it towards the emergency exit out of your body.Â
FUCK, your tasteâŚÂ
Just one drop of you dissolving on his tongue, and he was already losing it. So intense. So sweet. So juicy. So so so fucking juicy⌠You reminded him of the fresh peaches of his hometown that he missed so much. You reminded him of the pure sandy beaches where he could make love to you all night.
You reminded him of a possibility where he could spend the rest of his life with you.
His tongue still hard at work, he freed his rock hard cock from its tight confines and let it hang to leak, never once touching it. Then he wrapped his arms tighter around your thighs to lock you in place, licking you deeper and deeper and deeper.
What better music to his ears than the moans of the woman heâd die for in a heartbeat?
Oh, how he wanted this to be real. Waking up next to you every morning. Having breakfast in bed. Breakfast under the kitchen table. Breakfast in your car while youâre driving. Oh, heâd be the happiest man. And heâd make you the happiest woman. At the very least, a very fucked out one.Â
But youâd always smile at him the same nevertheless.
âPut your leg on the desk. There you go,â he instructed you in between his obscenely loud slurps. âNow watch me.â
âFaster. Faster!â you urged him, terrified youâd get interrupted again, then held his face in place to ride his mouth as fast as you could. âYes. Ooh, yes, donât stop. Donâtâ YES, like that. Keep doing that. That. Donât stop. Donât stop. Donât stop! CHRIS!!!â
Chris. You called him Chris.
And as he made your toes curl hard to the point of spasm, Chris came untouched to the taste of the woman heâd die for in a heartbeat.
You knew a thing or two about addiction, and this was exactly how it started forming. Intense pleasure, explosive release, leaving a dense fog of satiation and euphoria in its wake. Every morning, the first thing Chris did as soon as he saw you was have a second breakfast, and his portions were getting bigger every day.Â
Of course it would go from compulsion to a survival need lightning fast.Â
âGod, I love these cute dresses you wear for me,â he mumbled in the middle of munching.
âShâShut up!â
âMake me,â he smiled, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. âPut something in my mouth so I canât talk.â
No lie thereâthey were for him. He just loved embarrassing you with it for the severe cuteness aggression, watching you try to defend yourself in that state, eyes out of focus, slightly drooling, unable to form one coherent sentence. It somehow made you taste even sweeter to him.
But strangely enough, that was all he would do.
He couldnât even bring himself to finger you, let alone fuck you, as if you were an untouched virgin. He didnât feel deserving. Not yet. Maybe that was why he kept overdoing it with the eating because he had to get his fill so his dick wouldnât get any ideas.Â
Like⌠really overdoing it.
He tested his limits and pushed it as far as he could, and you didnât even notice it. First, it was three times a week. Then it became every day. Then twice a day. And now he wanted your pussy in his mouth almost by the hour like he was fiending for heroin. Not even asking for it, just crawling between your legs and helping himself like this was his own house.Â
Because it was. You tasted like cinnamon cookies to him. You smelled like home.Â
It comforted him so much.
âOne more. Just one more. For me.â
âMâMy dress⌠Gonna⌠Gonna stainâŚâ
âShh, Iâll lick that clean, too.â
âI canât concentrate!â
âOf course you can, baby. Just ignore me.âÂ
But he didnât want you to ignore him, no. That wasnât even the last thing he wanted. Your attention had to be on him at all times. All of it. All of it. Whenever you calmed down, he would lick you deeper, suck you harder, moan a bit louder so you would be reminded of his presence again.Â
âFuck, Iâm gonnaâŚâ
â...cum again,â he whispered into your cunt, lovingly kissing all over your soaked folds. âCum for me, baby. Cum for your man.â
At one point, he wondered if he should just keep eating until you passed out. You were working so hard; you would at least be forced to rest for a little while. He could make the most comfortable bed for you on the gurney, and you would sleep like a baby in his arms. And if you gave him permission to slide inside you when you were asleep, he would even meet you in your dreams. Maybe youâd see him in your dreams. Maybe you would say yes to him in your dreams, and he would whisk you away to your dream honeymoon the second you said âI do,â so he wouldnât waste a single second he could spend loving you. He would build you an entire life in that honeymoon suite if you wanted so that you could have it forever. Amazing, wasnât it? Your âhoneymoon phaseâ would never ever end.Â
On second thought, though, that was for mortal randos. When two people had as strong of a bond as you had, no one would need honeymoon phases and whatnot. That would be an insult. That would be a fucking blasphemy because you and Chris were forever.Â
Further than forever.Â
Fucking timeless.
Nevertheless, even a man living and breathing for his woman was only a man. One day, the inevitable finally started rearing its ugly head.
Of course he was content with only being your pleasure plug, but he just couldnât control the pain, and it was worsening. The thought of you wrapped around his cock kept popping into his head at the most inconvenient times. God, he just knew you felt like heaven inside. Dripping for him, calling out to him, desperate to hug him tight and never let go. He kept wondering if that would be the right moment to ask you for your hand in his. Would you say yes? Maybe he could time it so you had no choice but to say yes. Right in the prelude of yet another earthshattering climax, he would ask you to marry him, and involuntarily or not, you would say yes. That was all he needed anyway. A yes from you. A yes to bind you to himself forever. A yes to let him devote himself to you. To serve you. To love you. To be your gladiator and crush everything that stood in the way of his having his Roman Empire, FUCK!
He was losing control, and he fucking hated himself for this, but he was only a man. He was sick of being only a man. He wanted to be your man.
And if Chris Bang from Crown Street was known for one thing, it was his knack for diabolical scheming.
âThank you so much for helping me with this. I swear it was right there just yesterday!â
Creativity is a must if you are to survive prison. Intimidation only gets you so far.Â
Every other Thursday, you spent the night at the infirmary for on-call duty, and somebody was of course aware of that. But this chip was not to be cashed in so recklessly. What chip, it was the fucking golden ticket, and Chris had to pick the day to visit the chocolate factory just right. He only had one shot at this. So he waited.Â
And he waited.Â
Then he waited some more.Â
He waited until a Wednesday to hide your precious report for the warden six feet under your computer, just two days before it was due. Diabolical, yes, but donât you think devilish charms are a little sexy?
Per his estimations, the freakout was going to kick in on Thursday morning, and that was when heâd gladly be your rockâcalm you down and selflessly volunteer to retrieve all your hard work. If worse came to worst, he could just pull an all-nighter with you to recreate the entire thing from scratch, no worries.
He didnât enjoy your hyperventilating, panicked state one bit, okay? Honest. But he had to make you think you had lost the file for good. Can you imagine how it would look otherwise? Heâd rather die than have you think he was forcing his way into spending the night with you. He would never force you into anything.Â
But he could sweetly persuade you. So sweetly that you would fall in love with him all over again.
The production value was just the attention whore showman in Chris itching to be put in the game after months of forced retirement. Wasnât it so romantic, though? You and him, on lockdown in the infirmary because of the blackout that came out of nowhere, no patrol guards to disturb you, a few aromatherapy candles as your only source of illumination. He just needed a few more minutes of pretending to finish the work before the laptopâs battery completely died, then he could focus all his attention on your cute little first date.Â
Did you like the candles? He had them specially brought in for you, you know.Â
âTsch, please,â Chris spoke while typing lightning fast. âItâs my job to help you.â
You smiled, being reminded of the moment you told him something with this exact gist. To think that he would remember such a minuscule detail⌠Nobody was ever good at remembering stuff about you.Â
Nobody but Chris.
âItâs like you had a premonition that a blackout was going to happen,â you looked at him in awe. âThe candles couldnât have come at a better time.â
âI wish. Then I would have brought a generator with me instead,â Chris chuckled. âSorry weâre already wasting them; these were supposed to be lit by your bedside. Iâll ask my sister to bring new ones from the next batch she makes.â
âFor what itâs worth, I am relaxed,â you took a long whiff from the pleasant scent. âPlease say thank you to her for me.â
Worry not, you were going to be something else very very soon.Â
It was a gamble to bring these âmagicâ candles here to a confined space, but Chris didnât have the patience to wait until he could light them up on your nightstand before making love to you all night. He was dying to see what you were like with all your filters disarmed, purely yourself, zero inhibition, blurting out all your secret thoughts to him exactly as they popped into your mind no matter how obscene. It obviously meant he could hear things heâd SO rather not, but it also might never happen. Even if it happened, you would help him forget with kisses all over his face anyway, right? But all over his face. Cheeks, lips, forehead, nose, eyelids, the whole spiel.
The payoff was so much superior to the risk that it would be stupid not to take it. Stress was good. Stress was nice. The tighter you wound the coil, the harder it snapped, no?
âThough I have to say, Iâm a firm believer of positive reinforcement,â he knowingly smirked. âYou should reward me for a job well done.â
âWill you stop?â you landed a light punch on his shoulder.
âNo, I wonât,â he turned the computer off after his final Ctrl+S and looked up at you sitting on your desk. âIâve missed dinner for this, and now weâre locked in here. You gotta make it up to me.â
He slowly scooted the rolling chair closer to you, then he rose to his feet to be on eye level with you, tucking your hair behind your ears. Your eyes closed on cue. It was like a learned reflex at this pointâwhenever Chris leaned in, you braced yourself for the impact on your lips. Soft. Wet. Crawling with desire mixed with spoonfuls of longing.
But this time around, something was⌠odd.
His kisses were the softest theyâd ever been, yet it was inducing something rabid inside you. You had this urge to crush all these walls into dust all of a sudden. You were convinced you could open that dungeon gate of an iron door with your bare hands.
âIâm⌠Iâm gonna ask you something,â you suddenly stopped him. âBut um⌠I donât know⌠like⌠like how toâŚâ
You looked distressed, breathing slightly heavier, like you were nervous about something. Your fever was spiking, and your eyes were slightly out of focus.
Nice. The candles had started to kick in.
This right there was his reward for a job well done, and he was going to enjoy the shit out of this moment.
âItâs okay. You donât have to weigh your words with me,â he smiled at you so wholesomely that you almost disintegrated into your atoms when you saw those dimples. âJust say it.â
âWhy wonât you fuck me?â
SHOOT HIM RIGHT BETWEEN HIS EYES, WHY DONâT YOU?!
Goddamn, even he wasnât expecting that much directness from the get-go. Your voice almost came out as a whine like you were begging him to do it rather than asking a question, and Chris might have gotten a bit weak in the knees.
âBâBecause⌠you never asked me to,â he answered, slightly stuttering with how off-guard he was caught.
âYouâre lying,â you furrowed your brows. âThatâs not the reason.â
âWhat other reason could there possibly be?â he asked, legitimately aghast.
âYou donât find me hot enough.â
âEnough?â he raised his voice even more.
âAnd your compulsive eating habits have nothing to do with me either, does it?â you derided with a disappointed huff. âIâm the only woman you see around here, and youâre just killing time.â
âBaby, I invented contraband. You think I canât smuggle an entire brothel in here if pussy was all I wanted?â he started laughing.Â
Your mouth opened and closed, but all that came out was air. Meanwhile, Chris was aggressively endeared, VERY highkey enjoying your small-scale tantrum. He wrapped his arms tighter around your waist and pulled you closer, speaking right into your lips.
âThat delicious curve of your waist, this spot on your neck, your little habit of licking your lips, the way you crease your brows when youâre focused, the way you smile at me when you say good morning, the way you close your eyes when you moan my name, the way you hold my face and look at me with begging eyes when youâre about to cumâŚâ
âWâWhat are you talking about?â you asked, super flustered.
âThings about you that make my cock twitch,â he declared.
Without taking his eyes off of you, he held your hand and curled your fingers around his girth. You let out a tiny gasp when you realized just how painfully hard he was.
âFeel this? This has everything to do with you. I canât fucking remember what it feels like to stay soft anymore. Iâm like this every minute of every day because of you. Fuck âenoughâ, it has to be illegal to be this hot. You should be locked up in here with me,â he grunted in a single breath through his teeth. âOf course I donât find you hot enough. I find you so concerningly hot that it takes insane amounts of effort to behave myself around you, otherwise I swear to fucking god, Iâm gonna fucking jump you one of these days.â
He closed his eyes and took a very deep breath to calm himself, then continued with a much saner voice.
âI never attempted anything becauseâŚâ he trailed off, âI thought you didnât find me hot enough.â
âWHAT?â
âItâs okay!â he reassured you with a smile. âIâm content even if youâll just let me hoââ
There was probably someone hiding in the room, because Chris was sure he had just been struck on the back of his head with a blunt object. Otherwise why would he suddenly feel concussed?
Unless he hadnât blacked out, and you had actually unleashed yourself on him.Â
This was by far the hardest youâd ever kissed him, so heated, extremely wet, biting into the flesh of those full lips. You jumped him. You literally jumped him, and you were now harshly dragging him towards the bed at the back of the office, discarding layers and layers of clothing along the way like a basilisk shedding centuriesâ worth of skin to rebirth itself. Lab coat off, your blouse off, his tank top off, your shoes off, his pants offâŚ
Off.
Off.
OFF!!!
âIf I donât find you hot enoughâŚâ you licked a stripe on his neck.
âOhâŚâ
âIf Iâm not about to go crazy if I donât feel your cock inside meâŚâ
âOhh, babyâŚâÂ
You held his hand and placed it between your legs, slick coating all over his fingers.Â
âThen what the hell is this, huh?â
âFuck, IâI donât know!â he whined. âMaybe you love making me miserable.â
âIâm driving you up a wall to make you miserable,â you scoffed with a lopsided smile. âNot to get you to jump me, or anything.â
Chris looked at you with wonder in his eyes, completely awestruck, like he was directly looking at the angel responsible for processing his most heartfelt prayer.
âYâYou want me to?â he asked through his labored breathing. âReally?â
âFucking jump me, Chris.âÂ
Chris. You called him Chris.
So it was true. Under your layers of grace indeed lay a nasty little freak that came out only for him. You didnât want him to make love to you. At least not right this second. You were down to âfuckâ.
It was as if a switch had turned on inside his head.
âWhy donât you get down there and let me feel those lips around my cock for once, baby?â he held your chin, pulling you into a soft kiss.
And it was as if you no longer had something called free will.
His wish was your command.
As Chris watched you kiss your way down, he bit into his smile, arms tucked under his nape, aroused out of his damn mind but also strangely moved. Even this right there was proof to him that you were so meant to be. You were slithering down his body like the most enticing snake, and he was your charmer, the only man ever to lure you out of that dark basket you were abandoned in. All he needed to do was to blow the right whistle, and you came into the light again, albeit ominously hissing. Ready to strike. Ready to bite. He hoped you would curl around his throat and choke the shit out of him so he could die in your hands.
Chris couldnât have asked for a better consummation night than falling victim to your venom.
He kept flinching in his place as you placed wet kisses all over his crotch, his thighs, his balls, relishing the way you were teasing him. He was lovingly stroking your hair as if he wasnât looking right at his demise, and when you finally took him inside your mouthâŚ
âOoofff, babyâŚâ he squeezed his eyes close, slightly arching his back. âFuck, you know my body so⌠well⌠GOD!â
It was never not going to make you shiver every time he called you baby, but knowing his body?Â
Oh, this man was out to kill you.
âGod, yes. YES, like thaâ hâhhaa thatâs deep!â
You know what, maybe so were you.
You fucking loved how he was responding to you, losing his whole damn mind right before your eyes. Nobody had ever reacted to you like this before.
Nobody but Chris.
You never thought blowing someone could be such a pleasurable experience for you, but turns out you needed the right man for the job. The way he hissed with every bob of your head just made you want to take him deeper, hold him a little tighter, make out with his balls until you entirely soaked him with you. And while Chris was dying in your mouth, an overwhelming sense of pride started taking over him.Â
Nasty little freak. But only for me.
âDONâT! Donât make me cum,â he suddenly stopped you. âCome up. Come here.â
He drowned your face in kisses, loving the way his precum tasted on your lips, and lay you down on your back. You werenât thinking straight. The only thing you knew was that whatever he would ask right now, you would do, and even if you did it for five hours straight, it wouldnât be enough to sate your hunger. Feeling him seemed to have the opposite effectâthe more you tasted him, the more you wanted him. The more you craved him.
The more you wanted to own him.
You wanted Chris so carnally that you were scared you were about to transform into a full-fledged black widow.
âIâm gonna show you a magic trick, but need you wet as shit for this,â he descended between your legs, kissing everything he ran into on the way. âClose your eyes. Iâm gonna paint you a picture.âÂ
You did as he said, and Chris prepared his canvas with his kisses, easel with his licks, and palette with his gentle sucks. Once he was finished with his sketching that put you in a comatose state, he sat down on the stool and hit the first stroke with the boldest color he had in his arsenal.Â
âNighttime,â he quietly began. âItâs our first date.â
Even the hypothetical thought made you throb so hard it squeezed a soft chuckle out of him.
âMm, where did you take me?â you reached for his head to caress him, melting on his tongue.
âWeâre at my place.â
How strange. Chris did have a life outside, but it had never occurred to you until that moment. You didnât even know where to start if you wanted to picture it.Â
Who knows, maybe he was aware, and that was exactly why he was doing this.
âWhere do you live?â you asked.Â
âEaston Park.â
âFancy,â you giggled, thinking of all the high-rise buildings in that area.
âNo, fancy would be the penthouse.â
âWhich floor are you on?â
âThe penthouse.â
Your soft laughter was like rolls of velvet in his ears, tickling him in just the right places. The blurry picture behind your eyelids started taking a clearer, more concrete form with each detail he drew with different brushes, some narrow, some wide, some thinner than a string of hair.
Not gonna lie, though, a penthouse did scream Chris.
âFirst, I make you amazing food,â he prodded your entrance with a finger, pushing it just a single knuckle deep. âWe have a really nice dinner. Killer wine. Great view.â
âA chef, too, huh?â you sighed dreamily. âHot.â
âAnd Iâm the best. Getting wet yet?â
The quiet laughter you shared in between felt even better than his kisses. You were getting warmer, but it had more to do with a swelling feeling in your chest than arousal.
âWe get a little tipsy,â he licked into your hole. âThen I take you to the roof.â
âWhatâs on the roof?â
âI have a heated infinity pool. Itâs really pretty with the neon purple lights I installed in it,â he smugly bragged. âYouâre all naked, sitting at the edge. Your legs are in the water. You look so relaxed already.â He placed three kisses on your clit back to back, âI dive from the other side and swim my way to you. Then I spread your legs apart. Slick everywhere.â
âFuckâŚâ you breathily moaned.
You felt very small licks on your folds, nowhere near enough to even feel friction, but you knew you were ruining the sheets under you. You could no longer tell where his spit stopped and your slick began. It was a complete mess down there, and if Chris could ask for a last meal, it would be exactly this.
âThen itâs time for dessert,â he wrapped his arms around your thighs, âbut only for me.âÂ
âOh, fuck⌠FUCK!â
This wasnât anything new. Chris had been sliding between your legs for a while now, and frankly a bit too frequently, but for some reason, it had never felt this intense. You felt each lick in your bones, and your clit was so swollen that you could tell you were just a few flicks away from detonation.
âAh, ChrisâŚâÂ
The happy humming stopped so abruptly that you opened your eyes. You watched Chris crawl up, chin thoroughly drenched with your arousal, and settle between your legs. He lifted them up and pushed them as far back as he could, drooling at the sight of your glossy cunt.
âAnd thatâs just the beginning,â he smiled as if he was uttering the wholesomest thing while pressing his leaking tip against your sodden entrance. âThere wonât be a single surface in my house you havenât been fucked on!â
âGOD!â
The impact was crushing, and neither of you could process this moment as your reality. You felt so full. Chris felt consumed. You were so wet that he easily descended into depths that no one had ever reached, and soon enough, he was pressing somewhere that made an unfamiliar pressure build inside you.
âWâWhat is this?!â you widened your eyes.
This? Couldnât you tell from the mating press?Â
This was where he was gonna cum. Where he was gonna breed you. Where he was gonna be yours forever. Hold it. Hold it in. Be a good girl, and hold it in for your man, yeah? Sure, there was always a risk of you taking a Plan B, but there was no fucking Plan B, only Plan A, and that was you as the mother of all his future children.
Oh god, he could die right now.Â
âChris, please!â
âHow the fuck am I gonna say no to this face, huh?â he grunted, squeezing your face with a single hand. âHow am I gonna say no to this voice?!â
âGod, have me,â you held onto him tighter, eyes barely open. âAll of me. Itâs yours.â
He started hitting even deeper at a much faster pace, and the pressure on your bladder intensified tenfold. If he kept going like this, you were⌠you were actuallyâŚ
And before you could think of a way to block that looming embarrassment, you were squirting all over his dick. You came so hard, your legs shaking like you were having a seizure, clawing at his shoulders, and Chris changed dimensions with you in his arms.Â
One hell of a fucking magic trickâŚ
âIâm sorry,â he pressed his forehead against yours, panting heavily. âIâm so sorry. I couldnât help it. Iâll do better. Just, please, donât hate me. Please.â
âShh, itâs okay,â you giggled and placed a kiss on his damp forehead. âThatâs what the pill is for. Never really been a fan of condoms myself.â
He intertwined his fingers with yours and placed a kiss on your hand, then collapsed next to you, lovingly caressing your face. As your breathing returned to normal, a cozy silence cradled you both. The room was drowned in darkness; you couldnât see anything except for what the candles illuminated, and they illuminated only the most important things. You and Chris. At this very moment, you didnât feel like you were in a prison.Â
It felt like you were in bed with the love of your life.Â
âYou came pretty fucking hard,â he proudly grinned at you. âI reckon I did a good job this time?â
âThis time?â you smiled through your creased brows. âYouâve done what youâve always done.â
âHow come Iâve never seen you seize like that before then?â
âBecause for the first time in my life, I came with the man Iâm in love with.â
Chrisâ endearment levels were fucking nuclear. He was so overcome with emotion that he was about to cry. He held you tighter in his arms and pulled you into a kiss, and you kissed him like you had only been with one man your whole life.
And he tasted like nothing but freedom.
When the first lights of the daybreak came knocking on the barred windows, the candles had melted away completely, and you had spent each other to depletion just like those candles the whole night. You hadnât slept a wink, but you werenât tired. In fact, you had never felt this alive. When the lockdown ended, you were sent home to rest, and Chris was sent to his wing, excused for the day from his work detail. There was an unerasable smile on your face when you got into your car. You decided to stop by your favorite diner on the way home to get some breakfast and look up divorce lawyers.
After reluctantly saying goodbye to you, Chris went to have a stale breakfast as a changed man. It had never tasted this delicious to him before, and he just couldnât stop smiling like an idiot. Once he finished eating, he made his way to the library, whistling a cheery tune to himself. Nobody ever came in here, which made it the perfect stash storage. He removed the ventilation grates behind the third bookshelf, took out a certain cellphone he had stolen from OâConnell long ago, and placed a call.
âHey, Liv, itâs me.â
âFang?!â
âI donât have much time,â Chris checked the door to see if anyone was nearby and lowered his voice. âI have a job for you.â
âAnything for the Crown. What kind of a job?â
âYour usual, but for really wholesome reasons this time,â he smiled to himself brightly. âI need an obstacle removed so I can be with the mother of my child.â
âAww, congrats, man! Youâre finally gonna be a father?â
âWe started trying,â he sheepishly scratched his nape. âSo? Are you my girl?â
âYou bet your ass, I am. Send me the guyâs info, weâll make death do them part,â Liv responded, âbut I call dibs on being the maid of honor at the wedding.â
âYou got it. I also have a side quest, but you will do this no questions asked. Deal?â
âWhat is it?
âAt an address Iâll give you, I need you to look for some medication and swap the contents with condensed flour. Make sure the shape, the weight, the packaging, everything is exactly the same,â Chris explained as fast as he could. âItâs a delicate job, but Iâll generously pay you if itâs well done, no worries.â
âOdd as fuck choice even by your standards, but I donât judge,â Liv tsked on the other end. âWhat am I gonna look for?â
âBirth control pills,â Chris answered, scarily expressionless.
âJakey Jakey~â Inmate 8MS3HF92 spoke into the receiver in a singsongy voice, greeting his guest behind the plexiglass. âAre you behaving?â
When Chris was asked to provide a visitors list on his very first day at this prison, he refused to submit one. Not because he didnât have anybody that cared for him; he was the one strictly instructing his crew to not even think about visiting him. He was doing just fine white-knuckling it through his sentence, and the awkward attempts of comfort were only going to make him feel pitied. Besides, if anyone from Crown Street walked in here, there was no guarantee that they could ever walk out.Â
But special circumstances required some exceptions.Â
âAre you?â Jake grinned, seemingly delighted by something. âI heard something through the grapevine, and the entire Crown is shook.â
âNo, weâre not switching to sex trafficking,â Chris responded flatly.Â
âQuit joking, mate. Is it true youâre getting married?â
A smile emerged on Chrisâ lips in slow motion. Hearing it out loud from a third party made it all the more real, and he could not control the butterfly invasion in his stomach.
âYeah,â he confirmed, uncharacteristically abashed, eyes turning into hearts with each word he uttered, âand I kinda need you to be my best man.â
âBANG ON!â
âVisitors, keep it down,â the guard firmly warned.
âGeez, fine,â Jake mumbled to himself as he side-eyed the guard. âGood news is fucking contraband here apparently.â
âObviously the spot comes with a few responsibilities,â Chris continued. âYou up for it?â
âName it, brother,â Jake replied with zero hesitation. âIf I have to get blood on my tux, youâre paying for the dry cleaning, though.â
âMight just have to, but Iâm willing to go as low as cum,â Chris disclosed his starting bid. âIâm gonna need you to fuck Regina.â
Jakeâs face immediately fell. If anyone saw how aghast he was, theyâd think he was asked to shoot his own brother or something.
âBroâŚâ
âYou said âanythingâ, didnât you? Bitch needs to get off my dick,â Chris spoke, eyes and voice equally dead. âItâs either that or the grisly alternative, and Iâd rather not turn my honeymoon budget into a dry cleaning trust fund.â
âAsk me to change the sky to green and itâs still more doable, but that one,â Jake made a rotating motion right by his temple with his finger, âis not.âÂ
âDonât sell yourself short, man. You got rizz for days,â Chris flashed a sleazy smile.
âI know, motherfucker, itâs not that,â Jake scowled. âDid you know she took a VERY public chastity pledge that only expires when you get out? She draws a knife at anyone who even just says hi to her.â
âThe choice is yours, Jakey. You either become a daredevil and seduce her, or send me the dry cleaning bill,â Chrisâ eyelids drooped with sheer disinterest in these banal details. âI thought it was obvious, but you kinda fucking owe me.â
Right at that moment, his eyes landed on something behind Jake in the distanceâthe woman clad in a white coat receiving some documents from a guard. When you locked eyes, Chris smiled so fondly, turning into a shy schoolboy with rosy cheeks. All that was missing from the scene was him actively kicking his feet.
âThatâs the sister-in-law?â Jake followed Chrisâ line of sight, spotting the target of his silent affection.
âBeautiful, my angel, isnât she?â Chris longingly sighed as he watched you leave the visiting area. As soon as the door closed in the distance, however, he switched back to his demon mode in the blink of an eye. âWhich is why you will take care of this. I got a fucking wedding to plan here.â
âDoes Noah know about this?â
âHe doesnât need to know the fine print.â
âFang,â Jake spoke a little more sternly, his sharp gaze popping the heart balloons manifesting over Chrisâ head. âThe land is on the horizon, man. Donât fuck this up.â
âHow do I put this?â Chris idly tapped his nails on the plexiglass, seemingly pensive. âYou know youâre no different than a brother to me, right? Iâll do anything for you.â
âSo will I.â
âTry and stand between me and the love of my life, and I wonât even blink when I kill you, Jake. Iâm not fucking around with this,â he declared, scarily calm, then quickly rose to his feet to report for duty for the day. âSo do what I say, and bring me the good news, yeah? I donât care which way you do it, just get it done.â
With one more thing checked off his wedding planning to-do list, Chris was in the highest of spirits, whistling the tune to âAll I Do is Winâ to himself as he made his way to the infirmary. What a great day. Fuck great, it was a spectacular day. And on top of that, he could finally breathe the same air as you again after a looooooong time.Â
Well, 72 hours to be exact, but stillâŚ
âYouâve been gone forever,â he hugged you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist. âWhy didnât you tell me you were going to take a few days off?â
âWell, excuse me for not informing you of every damn step I take, Your Majesty, fucking CHRIST!â you spat, frantically going through some documents.
You had never snapped at him like this over anything, so of course uneasiness would sprout in the pit of his stomach. Were you stressed about work? Did the warden give you an impossible task again? You would tell him if you were upset with him, right? Right?
Right?!
âDonât be mad. I was just so lonely without you,â he nuzzled against your neck, slowly turning you around towards himself. âI barely last a night when youâre gone for the day. I miss you too much.â
Maybe part of Chrisâ morning routine was injecting passiflora into his lips because his soft kisses immediately started raining on the clamorous irritation parade inside you. He held you close, running his hands on your back as if to comfort you, and when you opened your eyes again, you felt significantly better.
Witchcraft.
âIâm sorry, IâmâŚâ you averted your eyes, embarrassed to realize that your outburst might have been a little excessive. âI just had to take a sick leave. Nothing important.â
âWhat? WHY?!â Chris immediately panicked, eyes blown wide with alarm. âWâWhat is it? Are you okay? Do you feel faint? Do you needâ?â
âIâm fine,â you held his face and slowly uttered the words. âItâs not a big deal.â
âThen donât scare me like that!âÂ
His knees gave way, and he collapsed onto the rolling chair, heaving a sigh of relief. He pulled you into his lap and hugged you tight, burying his face in your chest. The warm and fuzzy swelling of your heart lasted only a few seconds because when he inhaled a lungful of your scent, it gave you a proper hot flash.
âI was wondering where that sweet scent was coming from. Turns out it was you,â he observed, looking up at you. âNew shower gel?â
âGreyhound much?â
âHmm, honey andâŚâ he sniffed around your chest, â...vanilla, right?âÂ
âGood job, wolfie,â you chuckled, patting his head.
âAre you trying to entice me by any chance?â he bit into his mischievous smile, hearts bursting out of his eyes.
âThatâs a bit presumptuous of you,â you sneered.
âDonât give me attitude. I told you itâs my favorite scent,â he grinned. âGod, itâs mad sexy when itâs on you.â
âStop it,â you playfully punched his shoulder.
âMm, you smell like cookies,â he pulled down the bust of your dress just a little. âHuge craving for milk all of a sudden.â
He was melting you with each kiss on your cleavage, each one turning wetter than the last. His bulge was growing bigger under you, making your clit buzz every time it throbbed. He freed your breasts from your bra, salivating at how firm and perky they looked, and closed his mouth on your hardened nipple almost on instinct.
But before he could suck even onceâŚ
âNOTâ!â
You jumped with a gasp as if you were pricked by a needle. Chris looked up at you with huge eyes, resembling a wolf cub more than ever.
âWhatâs wrong?â
âEr erhm, I uhâŚâ you cleared your throat. âIâm afraid not today.â
âBut why not?â he protested with a loud whine, legitimately sad, and gently cupped your breasts with his thumbs hovering over your nipples. âWas I too harsh wiâ?â
You flinched again when he rubbed them. It was barely a brush, but you were reacting like he was overstimulating you to tears.
âChris, please, todayâs really not a good day,â you attempted to climb off his lap.
âHey, hey, hey. Look at me.â
He hugged your waist tighter, intently examining your face, his brows knit together. He knew something wasnât right, but he just couldnât put his finger on it. You seemed⌠distressed, almost.Â
âNot that I donât enjoy it, but first, you bite my head off, then youâre fidgety as hell. Whatâs happening to you?â he asked with concern. âAre you on your period or something?âÂ
When silence followed his question, a smile began to grow on Chrisâ lips. His worry was rapidly melting into excess enamorment, and he was seconds away from biting you hard.
âWait, are you?â he started laughing in earnest, endeared out of his mind.
Your mouth was opening and closing, but for some reason, you couldnât say anything. Well, yeah, it was a mundane occurrence that repeated periodically, thus the name, but that wasnât why you didnât want to say it out loud. Meanwhile, Chris was about to bust out the fireworks because he fucking knew why. It wasnât because you were in pain, was it?
It was because you were horny!
âOh, my poor baby, did your cramps get too painful? Is that why you took the days off?â he caressed your face, about to die of cuteness aggression. âIs that why youâre trying to stay away from me?â
âIâm not trying to stay away from you,â you pouted with a frown, getting ticked off again.
âYou should have just told me,â he tenderly pecked your lips. âI got your remedy. Donât you know that?â
âWhat remedy?â
âYouâre the doctor, you tell me,â he knowingly answered. âArenât orgasms known to help with period pain?â
âIâ Thatâsâ HUH?â
âAm I wrong?â he continued with the results slide of his informal research presentation. âYou feel good, your body relaxes, and it swims in so much endorphin that it forgets to communicate pain. Iâm basically walking Advil for you.â
âAdv⌠Advil?â
You couldnât fucking think straight!
Your entire mind was infested with thoughts of Chris. Only Chris. Those full lips. That flawless skin. The heat exuding from his body. His sweat dripping on your chest. The way he moaned. The way he licked. The way he fucked⌠You were riddled by this intense urge to tackle him to the ground and ride the shit out of him andâŚ
GOD, YOU WERE SO HORNY!
âYou really thought a couple of drops of blood could stop me?â he pulled you closer harshly, eyes darkened to pitch black. âI donât give a fuck. Iâll eat your pussy all day.â
âARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?â
âYeah, but I thought you knew that by now.â
âABSOLUTELY NOT!â
âShh, shh, shh⌠Calm down. Deep breaths. Iâm not asking you to kiss me afterwards or anything,â he giggled, extremely entertained by how scandalized you are. âThough youâre so on edge if I so much as kiss your clit right now, youâll fucking explode.â
âSâStop saying things like that!â
âAnd I kinda like it when youâre desperate for me. Gets me fucking horny,â he grazed his teeth on your jawline. âTell you what, call in sick for the whole week next time, and Iâll take care of you. Iâll be your personal attendant at your beck and call. Iâll kiss your cramps away. Iâll massage every single spot of your body. Iâll make you anything you wanna eat. Iâll feed you with my own hands; you wonât even have to lift a finger. Then Iâll make you cum. Iâll make you cum over and over until youâre spent. Youâll sleep like a baby in my arms.âÂ
He placed his hand on your bare thigh, loving the extra warmth on your skin, and started sliding it up.
âBut when youâre ovulating,â he hissed in delight, âyouâre fucking mine.â
âPHONE! The phone is making sounds!â you jumped at the landline, trying to keep him on a leash with a single hand. âHâHello? Yes, thank you! Iâll be right there.â
âDonât go,â he whined, clinging to your waist.
âI just need to pick up a package,â you finally managed to peel yourself off of him. âYouâll survive.â
âYou donât know that!â
You burst out laughing as you headed towards the door. Right before you pulled on the handle, however, something suddenly occurred to you, and you turned around.
âWait, how are you even supposed to take care of me all the way from here?â you narrowed your eyes, residual smile still clinging to your mouth.Â
âWho said anything about here?â he pursed his lips.
âWâWhat do you mean?â your face drastically changed, anxious and hopeful all in the same breath.
âMy parole verdict came back today,â Chris looked at you with the most loving eyes, for once with no traces of rascality in his voice. âIâll know what you look like under sunshine soon.â
It was never a pleasant experience to be called into the wardenâs office because it was always about something grim. Casualty numbers, assault reports, some other bleak headline⌠Naturally, your heart was thumping in your chest as you made your way down the hall first thing in the morning, trying to make a bet with yourself on how many times he was going to say blood this time. The gen pop managerâs presence in the room was an unfamiliar addition, though.
âIâm afraid we have some bad news, Doctor.â
A part of you was relieved this didnât have anything to do with your little fling with a certain inmate. It would definitely be grounds for a disciplinary hearing, if not getting your license revoked altogether.
But no way in hell were you expecting the news of your husbandâs passing in a hotel room.
Your ears were ringing so much that the voices were suddenly muffled. You could pick out words, but your brain wasnât processing any complete sentences.Â
Heart attack.Â
Party crowd.Â
Fake ID.
Amphetamines.Â
Sexual activity.Â
And among all that word salad, you heard three that suddenly shocked your existence back to reality, spiking your blood pressure to the point of a headrush.
â...s to the Crown Street Cartel.â
âIâm sorry, what?â you shook your head as the full audio feed was restored in your ears.
âThe persons instigating the event. They are found to have ties to the Crown Street Cartel,â the warden repeated. âMy connections from the DAâs office told me they might be looking into murder charges.â
That whole string of information landed like a nuclear bomb in that dark room, rendering you completely numb. You didnât know what to be appalled over first. Your husband gone. Being divorced by death. Debauched adultery involved not that you were pure as the driven snow. And the cherry on topâŚ
Crown Street.
âIâm truly sorry for your loss. Please take as much time as you need and let me know if there is anything I can do for you,â the warden solemnly nodded. âOfficers will be giving you a ride home.â
The following days were all a blur. You refused to give a eulogy at the funeral because any words of affection coming from your mouth would be a bald-faced lie. What else were you going to talk about anyway? How you hastily got married over a pregnancy scare, and how things were never the same after your miscarriage? How he didnât even make one attempt to maybe reconcile things? How he either spent his nights out or on the couch, forcing you to drown yourself in impossible amounts of work so that you didnât have to think about it all? How he died right before you actually mustered the courage to tell him that you didnât wanna live like this anymore?Â
WAS THAT WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO TALK ABOUT???
People kept telling you to take time off to properly grieve, but what did that even mean? Grief was for loss. Could you even lose something that was never there? Maybe you had been grieving for years; why did no one think of that? The loss of your unborn child. The loss of your youth. The loss of your happiness. The loss of your trust.Â
The loss of your hopes to be loved one day.
Nevertheless, sitting in the eye of the storm wasnât going to change anything. There was still a confrontation to be had, and the closer it approached, the antsier it was driving you. It approached. It approached.
And finally arrived at your office door one morning.
âYouâre back!â Chris beamed up at the sight of you and attempted a hug. âWere you on sick leave again? I was worââ
âFUCKING SAVE IT!!!âÂ
You had resolved to do this the adult way. Calmly, with room temperature volume. But as soon as you saw Chris, something jumped out of your body like you wanted to get into a physical altercation with him.Â
âIâm gonna ask you point-blank,â you pointed at him with a trembling voice, eyes already welling up with angry tears. âDo you or do you not have anything to do with my husbandâs death?â
Now, why would you word it like that, huh? Why would you put a possessive adjective in front of it as if it meant something to you?
âYour husband?â Chris creased his brows, looking like he was genuinely confused. âThe last I checked, you were roommates with a ghost.â
âWHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!â
âWHAT HUSBAND? I AM YOUR MAN!â
For the first time ever, Chris scared you. You had never heard him raise his voice before. Those beautiful eyes that looked at you with endless affection and longing were filled with something else now.Â
And it was anything but sane.
âYou thought I was fucking around just trying to get some pussy? I never joke about devotion,â he started walking towards you with slow steps, eyes psychotically widened. âYou said all of you is mine. When you were in my arms. When I was fucking balls deep inside you!â
âYou can guess why I became a doctor, right, inmate?â
Your deadpan voice made it infinity times worse. As detached from emotion as it could be. If you just aimed a gun right at his forehead and pulled the trigger, it would have been a lot more preferable for Chris.
Inmate. You called him fucking inmate.
âDidnât I save your ass every time you fell down? Didnât you tell me you owe me your life?â you met him halfway and stopped right in front of his face, pushing his chest with all your might. âWHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO PLAY FUCKING GOD?!!!âÂ
His expression was unreadable. It could very well be interpreted as upset, angry, sad, or whatever the fuck he claimed to feel.
If he could feel anything, that is.
âYou didnât love him. You⌠You love me,â he started breathing erratically. âYou belong with me. We belong to each other!â
âAnd that was your way of expediting things instead of waiting for my divorce to be finalized,â you started laughing hysterically, your eyes constantly switching between blank and neurotic. âDo you even know what it means to love someone? It means you want to make them happy, not fucking traumatize them.â
âDo you know what it means, doc?â Chris countered you.
Doc. What a cold, impersonal address. It was the very first thing he called you, long before you even knew what each other tasted like, but it somehow felt even more distant than that now.
âYouâve been trapped in a prison of your own for god knows how long,â he read the epitaph of your marriageâs tombstone. âI set you free so that you could be happy!â
âAt least I fucking know not to take lives as I see fit and call it devotion,â you scoffed.
âThen maybe youâve never been in love before.â
Chris was breathing heavily through his nose, trying so hard to find the right words to appease you so you wouldnât do something that was going to kill you both, but he felt just like the day your hand brushed against his for the very first time. At a complete loss. Of words. Of his mind.
And now, of you.
âAngel, Iââ
âGo,â you turned away, clenching your jaw as hard as you could to suppress your tears. âWeâre done here.â
And that was exactly what Chris did. He watched your back like he was witnessing you evaporate into thin air like smoke, then he turned around and left.
After that day, you started paying frequent visits to what used to be the old prison chapel, now just an unused space with all its decorations still intact. Not to pray, just to be by yourself. Maybe it was the pretty stained-glass windows, but you found a piece of peace in that quiet, very unlike the deafening silence crawling all over your house, driving you to the brink of insanity. Every day during lunch, you went in there, locked the door behind you, and sat on one of the pews. Just breathing. Breathing. Breathing. Trying to hear yourself think. Trying to hear yourself think about something other than Chris. Anything but Chris.
Every day, you lost yet another battle against yourself.
After that day, you kept waiting for the grief to kick in. It was probably just the shock of a sudden death. Any day now. You were waiting. And waiting. And waiting.Â
But it still wasnât coming.Â
You werenât grieving, nor were you turning Chris in. You kept denying. And denying. And denying. But to your infinite misfortune, it wasnât because you didnât have anything to pin the crime on him. You had basically heard a confession directly coming from his mouth.
It was because⌠you didnât want to. You just couldnât bring yourself to.
I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.
Not only could you not prevent it, but it was well on its way to metastasizing in your heart.
Chris was still losing sleep over you, but the tossing and turning no longer had anything to do with counting down the minutes until he saw you again. The butterflies in his stomach had turned into moths that reeked of death, rotting his insides with restlessness. The last unprotected touch you shared burned like hell on his chest. It was as if you had divorced him and told him to get the fuck out of the house.
Fine, could he pay the alimony in the form of a trillion kisses now?
Bouncing a ball against the cell wall, he kept thinking of ways to extend his stay here a little longer without completely burning his parole. If he got in a fistfight with a guard, would it at least grant him a few more weeks? He would massacre half this prison to upgrade his sentence to life if he knew you would be there forever, but how could he even make sure you wouldnât just resign and walk away one day? Was there an option where your medical license wouldnât be valid anywhere but in a prison, for example? What other prisons could you go to? Was the location contingent upon you having family members in the area? Just asking so he could initiate his paperwork for a transfer, no biggie.
When his work detail was reassigned to the kitchen, he attempted to take a few pages from his old playbook, inflicting relatively minor but absolutely-needing-medical-attention-from-your-healing-hands injuries on himself, and he almost had a heart attack when he saw some other doctor tending to people at the infirmary instead.
A man, for that matter.
âWhereâs the chief attending physician?â he asked as casually as he could manage.Â
âBedrest,â the stranger doctor flatly responded.
âWHY?â
âNone of your goddamn business,â he held his gaze, stern stare filled with suspicion to the brim.Â
Bedrest? What bedrest? Was it a cold? It had better be a cold. Did you have anyone taking care of you? Could he bribe Officer Langdon into sneaking him out just for a few hours at night? Or at the very least bring him intel on you? Where the fuck was this man anyway?!Â
One day. Five days. Nine days. Pacing. Worrying. Craving. Yearning.Â
Yearning.
Yearning.
âFang, doc wants to see you.â
âMOVE!â
Chris hated hospitals. He hated the color white. He hated that antiseptic smell, and yet he was dashing to the infirmary at lightning speed like he was gunning for a record. Yes, he would change his permanent residence to a hospital for you. Yes, he would move into an all-white cell for you. Yes, he would inhale antiseptics instead of oxygen from now on, just⌠Just let him see you again. Let him touch you again. Let him hold you in his arms again. Please. Please.
PLEASE!!!
âThank fuck, baby, I was going crazy without yââ
âWHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!!!â
When you turned around to face him, Chris didnât know whether he should drop to his knees or go on a killing frenzy. There were bruises on your face. Scratches on your arms. Your lip was busted, and it was killing him that you were looking at him with eyes turned vermilion with acrimony.
âWhâWhat happened to you?!â he shrieked, face all convoluted with a mixture of shock, worry, and rage.
âAre you really gonna pretend you didnât unleash some fucking lunatic on me?!â
âA WHAT?â
âHe was one of you, too, wasnât he?âÂ
âWho?â
âDonât lie to me, I saw the goddamn crown necklace.â
âOn WHO?â
âGod, youâre such a self-absorbed fucking lowlife who will stop at nothing until he gets his way!!!â
Chris was on the brink of tears, but even he couldnât tell what emotion was trying to crack open those floodgates. Was it sorrow? Anger? Resentment? Yes, he had some imperfections, and yes, 97% of the time, he was guilty of everything you just said. But how could you collect them all and throw them at his face with full conviction about something like this?
How could you even think he could ever wish any harm on you?
âI swear I donât have anything to do with this,â he pleaded, reaching for your hands. âIâd die before I let anything happen to you!âÂ
âThen fucking DIE!âÂ
Oh, the hatred⌠The unmitigated loathing crawling in your eyes⌠As if you didnât swear yourselves to each other once upon a time. As if you didnât tell him all of you were his. As if you never once loved him. He didnât even know he had one, but for the first time in his life, Chris heard his heart break.Â
Completely crushed to dust, never to become whole again.
âFine.â
He walked to the cabinet behind you with quick steps, picked up a 15-blade, and handed it to you.
âKill me.â
Unable to comprehend his request, you just stared at the blade, your features visibly softening, then looked up at him in utter disbelief. It made you want to throw yourself at the blade when you saw those bloodshot eyes welled up to the brim with tears. It hurt. It hurt so much to see him like this, but⌠But why did it hurt? This man was a monster, just why did it hurt?
WHY DID IT FUCKING HURT?!!!
When you didnât take the blade, Chris put it in your hands and pressed the tip on his chest.
âIf in your heart of hearts, you have a grain of doubt that I donât live and breathe for you, that I wouldnât thrust myself deeper into this blade just to be a few inches closer to you, that Iâm not going to annihilate whoever laid a finger on a strand of your hair, then fucking kill me right here, right now,â he declared in a single breath, voice trembling, lips quivering, face drenched with tears, but still with a straight face out of sheer pride. âCall Brad in here. Iâll tell him where to dump the body and how to get you out of it without a scratch.â
A torrent of questions flooded your head, making the room spin. Why would a man who didnât even flinch while confessing to a hit job feel the need to lie about an ambush? Why wasnât he just telling you something along the lines of âWhat did you expect for crossing me?â Why was he crying over his magnificent handiwork? He got what he wanted, didnât he? Then why?Â
Why?Â
WHY?!
âNO!âÂ
When Chris actually attempted to walk into the blade, you pulled your hands back like you were electrocuted, and the sound of metal hitting the floor made your ears ring. He looked down at what could just save him from his misery and then up into your eyes, and what he saw in there immediately summoned the butterflies to chase away the moths with flaming pitchforks becauseâŚ
Why didnât you just let him walk into it? Why didnât you just let him take his last breath in your hands? If you hated him so much, he was right there, giving you a chance to get rid of him for good.
You couldnât, could you?
He took a vigilant step towards you, extremely careful not to spook you, and when you stayed in your place despite him getting closer, he found the audacity in himself to feel your warmth on his fingertips again.
âIf anything were to happen to you, Iâd kill whoever dared lay a finger on you, and then myself. Youâre my everything, angel,â he gently held your face. âHate me, loathe me, despise me from the bottom of your heart, I donât care. Nothing can make me want to harm you. Nothing.â
He tenderly kissed the corner of your lips. Right under your eye. All your bruises one by one. Unbeknownst to yourself, tears had started running down your face, as if they wanted to soothe the burn that came from deep within you.
Everything was hurting ever since you told Chris to go.
He enveloped your hands in his, moments away from wrapping you in a tight embrace to shelter you from whatever demons were after you. He didnât give a fuck if you wanted to curse him to the bottom circle of hell. Curse him, he didnât care. Just let him hold you in his arms. Feel your warmth. Inhale your scent. Have your heart beat on the other side of his chest in the exact same rhythm.
Anything for you.
âIâm begging you,â he caressed your hair, looking at you with so much longing that you were getting crushed under its weight. âTell me what happened.â
âBribe whoever you need and make sure he ends up here. I donât care if itâs millions.â
After you pressed charges against the culprit, Chris had been relentlessly pursuing his person of interest, planning everything down to the finest detail. No hit job for this scum of the earth, oh no. He was going to scrape him with his own hands and look straight into his eyes as he watched the light drain from them.
And after what felt like forever, the lamb finally walked through the front door one fateful morning.
âCooper, right? Welcome to the den, mate,â the wolf greeted his prey. âWhat are you in for?â
âJudge rage, brother. Wasnât anything that big to land me here if you ask me,â the guy slapped a crooked grin on his face. âTook a little field trip to a house I thought was empty. I should have just left when I emptied the safe, but a hot piece of ass lying in bed like that? Would be a dumb fucking move not to hit that, you know what I mean?â
âDid youâŚâ Chris forced a sleazy smile while killing this guy five ways in his head. âDid you get toâŚ?â
âNah, man, bitch had an iron bat and damn did she know how to use it,â he cackled, touching the bruise on his nape. âI was actually fucking turned on by it.â
âBetter luck next time, huh?â Chris slammed his hand on Cooperâs shoulder, a lot more like a punch fully intended for assault rather than a friendly slap. âStay strong.â
âThe rest will follow.â
âYouâre goddamn right it will, cocksucker,â he mumbled under his breath as he headed to the kitchen. âTheyâre called consequences.â
Fuming out of his nose, he slammed his fist into the refrigerator, suddenly alerting Paco tending to his carrots in the corner.
âNo disrespect to Crown, Fang, but that Cooper asshole gets on my last fucking nerve,â he complained. âIt hasnât even been 24 hours, and the fucker already acts like heâs the king running this shit.â
âTook the words right out of my mouth,â Chris stared at the shelf of glass jars, and then at Pacoâs nauseated face. âAnd Iâm happy to report that our interests are suddenly aligned.â
Of course this waste of oxygen didnât deserve a quick exit. Remorse didnât just manifest out of thin air, did it? One had to realize the weight of their sins. They had to walk a few miles in those thorny shoes and see how they liked it.Â
Then stand before the public with their bleeding feet and let this be a lesson to all who even thought about doing the same thing.Â
Chris wrapped a towel around one of the empty jars to suppress an alarming crash sound and slammed it on the metal counter, making Pacoâs brows arch.
âYouâd legit take out one of your own?â Paco asked, utterly incredulous.
âHeâs NOT one of my own!â Chris threateningly pointed at him, eyes as wide as a madmanâs and teeth chattering from pure rage. âMy own would never disrespect me like that.â
Paco dropped the carrots in his hands and walked towards Chris still panting out of sheer rage.
âDoc isnât your girl, brother.â
âJust because I havenât put a ring on her finger yet doesnât mean she isnât.â
âAs if she will say yes to a convict when you do.â
âYOU DONâT KNOW THAT!â
âGet a goddamn grip, man! The dude didnât even know who she was!â
âThen he shouldâve had a fucking premonition, Pac,â Chris spat, frothing at the mouth with revenge vision.
He grabbed a plastic pickle can and started rolling it on the broken glass like he was rolling out dough, crushing it into fine dust.Â
âWe use a different kind of seasoning in my hometown for kings, you know,â Chris spoke, suddenly way too calm. âEspecially if they happen to run this shit.â
âYouâre one sick motherfucker, Fang,â Paco maniacally smiled.
âThatâs some god-tier compliment, mate. Appreciate it,â he psychotically smirked back.
Chris had to summon the patience of a thousand monks to convince Cooper they were now ride-or-dies while constantly battling the urge to put a pillow in his face in his sleep. He listened to his dumbass stories with scarily genuine interest. He not only let him in on the drug ops, but put him in charge of the meth line. Every meal, he served him bigger portions as a âspecial treatmentâ, seasoned perfectly with a side of charming smile. The heartburn and the stomachache were just the horrendous oil they had to use, man; heâd get used to it soon enough.Â
Not that he was well on his way to a massive internal hemorrhage or anything.Â
I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.
When the body came to you for an autopsy, you first checked the tag attached to the toe. Cooper Walsh. So it had a name. You thought the sight would give you some form of satisfaction, but it was as if the lights had gone out in your brain. You werenât feeling a thing.Â
When you removed the sheet to get to work, however, you saw a small envelope resting on the chest. Inside was a hurriedly scribbled note along with what looked like crushed pieces of a crown pendant. You felt something reading those words, but admitting what it was out loud would mean you were now officially under the category of the infirm.
Anything for you, my queen.
âBrad?â you called out towards the door.
âYes, Doctor?â
âCan I bum one?â you pointed at the Marlboro pack peeking out of his pocket.
You werenât particularly feeling by-the-book-y that day, and turns out being employed at a shithole where no one knew how to spell âaccountabilityâ had its perks. The guard walked into the cold room with a half-confused, half-surprised smile and sat by the small table in the corner.
âDidnât know you smoked,â he opened the pack and offered you a cigarette.
âI donât,â you pulled one out.
He lit your cigarette, then lit one himself. You smoked in silence for a few seconds, your blank eyes fixated on the lifeless body.
âDo you know what happened?â you asked, nodding towards the table.
âNo,â Brad pursed his lips.
âSorry, I meant did you know how Chris was going to kill this piece of shit?â
His earlier pleasant surprise melted into mild shock as he looked at you with something akin to awe.
âYou know why he did it, right?â
âThat wasnât the question,â you tilted your head.
âYes, I knew,â he acknowledged after a brief pause.
âThereâs dried blood around the mouth. Iâm assuming something didnât agree with his stomach,â you observed. âWhat am I gonna find in there? Poison?â
You already had an idea just how loyal Chris and Brad were to each otherâjust the fact that Bradâs name came up in the most grim scenario you ever heard was proof enough. Sitting right across you, he was sizing you up, clearly trying to decide how much he could divulge without getting Chris in irreversible trouble.Â
It put a faint smile on your lips.
âIf you turn him in, youâre gonna burn his parole, you know,â he gave you an alternative answer instead. âHe might get life.â
âI know,â you said calmly. âIâm asking so I know what to lie about.â
Brad heaved a deep sigh. Maybe it was relief, maybe it was the helplessness of having to do a leap of faith, but he finally confessed, hoping against hope that this could only help Chris.
âItâs glass. Heâs been feeding him crushed glass three meals a day for god knows how long.â
Fucking diabolical. You didnât know whether to be impressed or horrified, to be frank, but somehow it didnât even surprise you. Only Fang would think of something that could never be traced back to him, wouldnât he?
Because he never got his own hands dirty.
âDoes anyone else know?â
âOne other guy, but heâd never snitch on Fang,â Brad replied. âThey are tight.â
âGood.â
You blew out the smoke and stood up, crushing the cigarette butt like a roach under your heels. You moved to the table and quickly examined the body for any obvious signs of foul play, and unsurprisingly, there were none.Â
âIs this guy known to use anything at all?â you asked without looking at the guard, closely inspecting the arms.
âHavenât seen it myself, but he dealt meth for Crown.â
âBring me one of the shakedown syringes youâve confiscated,â you firmly ordered and threw him a pair of latex gloves. âWipe them clean. I donât want your fingerprints on it.âÂ
As Brad stepped outside, you picked up a sponge and started cleaning the dried blood around Cooperâs mouth. Carefully. With bone-chilling tranquility. Replaying in your head every terrorizing moment in the alleged safety of your own house, of your own bedroom, chuckling to yourself when you remembered how your late husband scoffed at you for wanting to keep a bat under your bed.
Oh, karma, you beautiful, beautiful bitchâŚ
Brad was gone a long time. By the time he returned with your order, you had cleaned out the stomach to get rid of any residual remains of glass. You took the syringe from him and emptied the contents on the floor first. With zero expression on your face and lips pursed with full focus, you placed it in Cooperâs hand, making sure his fingers were located just at the right spots, and punctured his left arm with the needle. Throughout the whole macabre marionette performance, the guard stayed quiet so as not to disturb the sanctity of your witchcraft, watching you completely mesmerized.
You and Brad stayed in that freezing-ass room for god knows how long, Cooperâs body slowly rotting away in the corner. You listened to his story. You listened to how he was as astray as you were at that moment before becoming a guard. How it wasnât that bad to be one once he learned how to get by. He didnât have any kids, but he was married, and he didnât see any problem with taking bribes as long as it meant he could put food on the table for his lady. He wouldnât shy away from violence if it meant protection for his lady. He didnât care if anyone called him a corrupt murderer; he would do anything for his lady. He had killed three people so far, and he would do it again.
âYou donât feel any guilt?â
âYou know how polarized this cesspit is, but even the raging lunatics here agree on one thing, doc,â Brad answered in a stone-cold voice. âYou kill a man, youâre a hero, but if you even think about harming a child, you donât deserve to live.âÂ
Once you decided enough time had passed, you rose to your feet and started wrapping things up.Â
âItâs really poetic, actually,â you spoke with a serene smile as you put the syringe in a bag to send with your report. âBeing able to choose his death is a prisonerâs last taste of freedom, isnât it?â
âI thought you were going to inject that in him,â Brad nodded towards your hands.
âNo need to complicate our lives,â you uttered while filling in the label, then gave him his final instructions. âIf anyone asks, you saw him steal from his own stash, and these are the track marks to prove it.â
âArenât they gonna ask for proof of drugs in his blood?â
âThere is proof of drugs in his blood,â you responded flatly, handing him the fake report for a preview since you werenât going to submit this for a few weeks. âBecause I said so.â
Brad didnât understand anything in the document, but the very last line with your whole signature right under it put a content smile on his face. Turns out the destination of the leap of faith was the fluffiest clouds he could ask for.
Cause of Death:
Perforated ulcer due to acute methamphetamine toxicity
You had completely lost your sense of time. It felt like days were passing, but you couldnât tell how many. Was it even days? Or were hours just stretching on to forever?
You found yourself in the chapel again, but after locking the door behind you, you didnât hide inside the darkness of the confessional this time. You tried. God knows you tried. Even if there was no priest to absolve you on the other side, you wanted to believe your heart would feel less heavy if you confessed out loud. Things no one should hear. Things you had the hardest time confessing to yourself.
Even if there wasnât a single soul around to shame you, you still choked every single time without fail.Â
You wanted to try your luck at the altar this time. If you lit some candles, maybe, just maybe they could absorb some of this unbearable heaviness. Nothing that happened as of late felt real. You kept waiting to feel bad. To feel some remorse, but it just wasnât coming. You did despise yourself, but not because of what youâd done. It was because of this fire that just wouldnât stop smoldering deep within you.Â
You were missing Chris terribly, and you were a horrible person for it.Â
You couldnât find solace anywhere. Your home was no different than a grave. Even the vast ocean felt two sizes two small. The gigantic knot in your throat had no intention of dissolving. It was turning into stone instead, suffocating you, getting too heavy to carry around day by day. You had no one to talk to. You had no one to turn to. No one would understand why you did what you did.
No one but Chris.Â
I will not be ashamed to say âI know notâ...
But you were ashamed. You were ashamed not because you didnât know what it was you felt but because you did. You were ashamed because nothing you did was enough to erase it. You were so ashamed that you couldnât even bring yourself to give these crushing feelings a voice.
Turns out one does not love Fang by choice.
Burden after burden piling up on your shoulders finally collapsed on top of you, and you started uncontrollably sobbing. Just letting it out as loudly as you could, begging for the venom to drain even if it was just by one drop. How was this even possible? How could you love a man who had blood on his hands? How could you not even blink walking all over your dignity, your integrity, and for what? To wash his hands off blood but getting it on yours?Â
You were complicit in fucking murder now, how were you even going to LIVE WITH YOURSELF?!!!
âGod, please,â you pleaded, your face soaked with tears, voice already hoarse with your wails of anguish. âPlease, please take these feelings out of my heart. I CANâT LOVE HIM!â
âWould that really be the worst thing?âÂ
Your sobs were suddenly cut in half with a knife. You swiftly turned around, knowing damn well what you were going to see, but it still felt like you got sucker-punched.Â
âWâWhat are you doing here?â you hurriedly wiped your face with the back of your hand as if it was going to magically make you uncry. âWâWhen did you come in?âÂ
âToday or since the first time you walked in here?â the wolf approached closer with slow steps, scared that maybe you would want to run away from him.Â
One beautiful man fucked up beyond repair looking at you with the saddest eyes, wearing his broken heart on his sleeve, his soft voice snowing on your charred heart to pacify it in its soothing embrace. He finally stood before you, holding your face in his hands ever so gently, unable to stop himself from welling up a little bit.Â
âI will burn this world down for a drop of your tears, please donât cry anymore,â he kissed your forehead, pulling you into his chest to take shelter in him. âItâs over now, baby. Itâs all over.â
You wrapped your arms around him, clutching at the fabric on his back, and let his heartbeat drain the rest of your venom. You cried. You cried. You cried until you had no more tears left to cry, and even though Chris died a little more with every sob, he just held you in his arms. He caressed your hair. He kissed the crown of your head.
âDonât leave me. Please donât leave me. Please. Iâm nothing without you,â he kept quietly begging. âI love you, angel. I love you with everything Iâve got.â
Something tried to jump out of your chest so hard that your ribcage almost cracked.
Thinking it was something, but hearing it was something else. The very first time the 143 spilled from his lips. It made it real. Oh, it made it so real, and now you were fully convinced that you indeed belonged with the infirm.Â
An absolute lunatic confessing his love for you should terrorize you. It should make you want to bolt out of there without looking back, take on a new identity, and change continents. NOT make your heart swell to the point of bursting and splattering longing everywhere!
âLove me. Love me back. Please love me back,â he held your face, directly appealing to your eyes now. âHave me for the rest of your life. Be one with me. Iâll do anything. Anything. Just⌠Just love me, baby.â
God, you had fucking enough of your decadesâ worth of solitary confinement.
âIâm so insanely in love with you, I fucking hate myself,â you blurted out.
Chris could die of overdose euphoria when you pulled him into that kiss. Your hands were all over him. You were wrapping your arms and legs around him, pressing his body against yours as hard as you could like you wanted to merge into a single entity, and if you didnât cut it out soon, he was not going to take any responsibility for what he might do to you. So much adrenaline was pumping through his veins that, unbeknownst to him, he found himself lifting you up and setting you down on that altar.Â
âCloser,â you panted against his neck, inhaling his scent to fill your lungs with him to the brim.
âIâm here, baby,â he soothed you, intertwining his fingers with yours. âIâm right here.â
âYOU ARENâT CLOSE ENOUGH!!!â
You almost ripped his top off, and when your eyes landed on his tattoo, your movements came to an abrupt halt. You reached for his arm and traced your finger over the ink, then brought it to your lips and kissed it lovingly. You kissed it again, and again, and again, then ran your tongue on it from beginning to end.Â
And that was the last straw for Chris.
He gently pushed your chest and lay you down on the altar. You looked so beautiful under the soft candlelights that it made him want to cry. He rid you of every piece of fabric hiding you from him and spread your legs wide, kneeling before you to pay his respects to your body. You propped up on your elbows to see him better, and he took one last look at your face before dipping his tongue into your wetness.
Your eyes immediately closed with a loud exhale.
His arms tightly wrapped around your thighs, he dragged his tongue all over your folds to at least attempt to quench his insatiable thirst for you, but the more he sipped, the thirstier he was getting. The obscenely wet sounds mingled with your moans echoed in the empty space, ricocheting off the stained-glass windows to come back to his ears like a love song you composed just for him. You tapped on his arms to hold his hands, staring deep into those eyes you wanted to get lost in as he bombarded the bars of your solitary cell with a loud crash, one lick at a time. You didnât talk. You couldnât talk even if you wanted to. You just hoped he could translate what you were trying to say with your shaking legs, your swelling moans, your fingers sinking deeper into his fleshâŚ
All punctuated with a piercing scream of his name at the climax.Â
He didnât waste one second and jumped back to his feet, freeing himself from his own chains, his breathing stuttering when he merely pressed his tip on your soaked entrance.
âI miss you,â he let out a moan bordering on a whine. âBaby, I miss you.â
âIâm right here,â you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist.
âBUT I MISS YOU EVEN RIGHT NOW!!!â
His features shattered beautifully with that first thrust, and his pace immediately went berserk, craving all of you but clueless as to how to have it all. He dove into your lips headfirst, trying to cling to the last drop of his sanity before he took his last breath in your hands, but those very hands running all over his face were just making it worse.
âHave me,â he panted against your mouth, thrusting as deep as he could like he wanted to spend the rest of his life in there. âHave me, Iâm begging you, just have me forever.â
What a strange sense of familiarity like you had known each other through several lifetimes. What an eerie feeling of completeness every time he disappeared deep inside you like he had always belonged there. Just one look into his eyes, and your world would stop. So would your heart. So would all logic because there was simply no explanation for why you would willingly let a snarling wolf hold your heart between his fangs.
But maybe there was no need for one in the first place.
âFuck, Iâm gâ Kiss me. God, kiss me, please!â
As Chrisâ breathing quickened, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and kissed him like you had only been with one man your whole life, your whole existence rejuvenated with his warmth spilling inside you. It had happened again. He tasted like nothing but freedom.
That just could not be a coincidence anymore.
I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.
The morning sun had not been awake enough to shoot its sneakily scorching arrows, letting the pleasant chill from the night before hang around a little while longer. Sitting on the hood of the black Corvette was a woman scrolling through her phone, her attire rendering her completely unrecognizable to the employees of this prison.Â
They were used to seeing their former chief attending physician in smart dresses, a lab coat, and heelsânot in a leather jacket, combat boots, and jeans.
I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.
The heavy front gate opened with a loud alarm, and a man appeared behind it like he was about to go on stage, dressed in his civilian attire for the first time in months.
Silver. Silver rings on long, dexterous fingers, silver necklace around the neck that held his head way too high, and silver tongue in his mouth home to all kinds of sinsâŚÂ
Ask anyone who that guy was, and they would roll their eyes over how he wouldnât shut the fuck up about his healer.
You may not have been able to prevent the disease, but maybe it didnât have to be the disaster everyone thought it was. Antidotes were made out of venom, too. Loving Chris this much may have permanently changed your status to infirm, but if you had such special obligations to your fellow human beings for years, why not have them for the only person that truly mattered from now on?
Yourself.
I will not be ashamed to say âI know notâ...
When you handed in your resignation, you didnât think so far ahead. All you knew was that you wanted to open a new chapter in your life, and you had no idea what the future held for you. And maybe you didnât need to.Â
You hadnât planned on getting your heart stolen by some lupine charmer, either, had you?Â
You locked your phone and put it away in your pocket, a smile blooming on your lips as you watched Chris walk to you with steady and firm steps. As soon as he reached you, he dropped his bag on the ground and sneaked a hand around your waist, kissing you deeply like you hadnât seen each other in forever.Â
His kisses still tasted like freedom, but for good reason this time around.Â
âWhat do you wanna do on your first day as a free man?â you asked him as he settled in the passenger seat.
He brushed his fingers on the crown necklace you were wearing, his fond smile deepening his dimples.
âI want to die in your arms, baby,â he made his wish, knowingly smirking.
âThen turn off your phone,â you started the car, setting the destination to Easton Park. âYouâre off the grid for the next forty hours.â
Funny how happiness can change a person. A tunnel of nightmares you had passed through, yet your conscience couldnât have been any lighter. All you did was love each otherâthat was the only thing you had done wrong. Everything that happened in between felt like some made-up tale in a forgotten song. It may have taken way too long, but you no longer felt like you didnât belong.Â
The rest indeed followed; you were the miracle Chris Bang from Crown Street had been praying for all along.
Stay strong.
Kia Kaha.
ăđđˇđ´ đ´đ˝đłă
⼠Reblog & drop your feedback to make Chris burn this world down for you.
WBTT CREDIT ROLL SOUNDTRACK
(Mandatory listen for full aftertaste immersion)
AUTHOR'S NOTE
And they lived maniacally ever after đŤ
Jillion years later, it's finally finished đ In my defense, the full OG story was 12k in total whereas this rewrite went north of 30k, but at least now it truly aligns with my original vision for MANIACS ^^ If you were here in 2022, I hope you've enjoyed this transformation, and if not, I hope you've enjoyed the story! Should you have any questions about any part of WBTT, you are encouraged to spam my inbox because I LOOOOOOVE discussing lore!
Since I already have open HJ wips and there was only 0.5% difference in voting, the next MANIACS rewrite will be Minho's. Hope to see you there~
㊠2022-2026, cb97percent ¡ No translations, rewrites, or reposts permittedă
who knew that one slip up could turn into the most dangerous game to unravel your secret ?
pairing: han x curvy!reader; classmates to lovers
genre: smut; fluff
warnings: explicit sexual content (minors do not interact) no details because it's way more fun that way ;)
word count: 5.85k
kysa's note: as a nerdsung stan through and through, i had planned this two part fic since forever. plus his new insta posts just sent me spiralling and here we are â leave your thoughts in the comments, hope you enjoy ! xoxo.
!! read part two here !!
the lecture hall was always three degrees too cold, filled with the rhythmic clicking of keyboards and the low, steady drone of a professor youâve stopped listening to twenty minutes ago. pulling the sleeves of your oversized, cream-coloured cardigan down over your knuckles, you buried your face in the soft wool as you let out a tiny, suppressed yawn.
it wasn't like you didn't like the subject â it was actually one of your favourites â mathematical economics. the amalgamation of numbers and abstract concepts usually got the gears turning in your brain, a welcome challenge to stimulate your mind. the professor â a sixty-something man â was also experienced and dedicated, his passion being the very thing that inspired you to work harder. this was precisely why you had fought so hard to get into the top university for your major; you wanted to study at the best institution, under the best faculty.
but as the lecture crossed the one hour mark and the professor delved into the complexities of the lagrange multiplier and constrained profit maximization, your eyelids began to feel heavy. your lashes drooped, fluttering stubbornly as you tried your best to continue scribbling notes that were becoming increasingly illegible.
the reason behind your drowsiness could easily be disguised as a bad morning. the morning could have certainly been better â your alarm hadn't gone off, you had tripped over the rug, and you had stubbed your toe against the sharp edge of the door. but those were just excuses. the primary cause of your exhaustion was the fact that you had been awake until 3:00 a.m., sitting in the glow of a ring light and livestreaming while spreading your legs for strangers.
initially, you had no intentions of doing anything of the sort. hell, you were far too shy to even entertain the thought â a camgirl ? but when you started university, you realised soon enough that even though your hard work had earned you a scholarship for tuition; the costs of accommodation, food, and daily expenses were piling up. however you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for a single cent more.
thatâs when you stumbled across the advertisement â www.lovecamgirl.com. it was practically calling out to you, promising hundreds of dollars in tips in a single day just for streaming yourself. the hook ? you weren't even required to show your face.
you didn't truly believe the 'hundreds of dollars' statement, but you figured even if that amount appeared over a month, you could finally tide over. you might even be able to send some money home to your parents after all they had done for you. you were still mulling it over when you were told that the affordable housing for scholarship students was full, forcing you into a single-share apartment with a much higher rent. the decision was made.
to everyone around you, you were just shy, soft and unassuming. even your small circle of friends saw you as the 'baby' of the group, the one they felt the need to protect because of your quiet nature. to them, you were the girl who lived in cozy, neutral and pastel toned clothes and always sat by the window, the one who answered the professorâs questions with a studious confidence that only surfaced during academic discussions.
they had no idea that while they were out at late-night parties, you were locked in your room, living a secret. you were the girl who blushed when a classmate looked at you for too long, yet you were also the girl who spent her nights in front of a camera, letting out those same shy, giggly sounds for an audience that worshipped the parts of you your cardigan hid.
stifling another yawn, you shifted in your seat as your gaze strayed. just a few rows down, a mop of dark hair moved. han jisung shifted in his chair, his shoulders tensing as he leaned over his laptop, seemingly engrossed in the lecture. you watched him for a heartbeat too long â
yes, you had a big fat crush on han jisung.
but was it really your fault when he was just perfect in every sense of the word ?
he was the definition of an academic weapon, possessing a mind that seemed to move a mile a minute. unlike your quiet, observant approach to academics, jisung was vocal. he was the star of every debate, his voice steady and persuasive as he dismantled complex theories with an effortless grace.
he didn't just ace exams; he set the curve, his name always sitting comfortably at the top of the leaderboard. there was a magnetic sort of brilliance to him, an intensity that made him appear both grounded and entirely out of reach. he moved through the university halls with a casual, easygoing confidence, often surrounded by friends but always looking like he was five steps ahead of everyone else in the room.
you found a strange sort of comfort in the way your names were always linked at the top of the department rankings. it wasn't a bitter rivalry, but rather a healthy, silent competition that kept you both on your toes. while he commanded the room with his speeches, you were the one whose written proofs were whispered about for their elegance and precision. you matched him step for step, grade for grade, your intellectual wavelengths perfectly in sync even if you were too bashful to ever strike up a real conversation about it.
watching him now, it felt unfair that someone so intellectually gifted could also look like he had been sculpted by god. the black cotton of his shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders, tapering down into a deceptively thin waist. when he leaned forward to type, the movement emphasized the lean muscle of his back and the faint ripple of his pectorals.
even from this distance, you could see the way his biceps flexed against the hem of his sleeves and the subtle veins protruding on his neck as he tilted his head to look at the board. his jawline was sharp, clean, and framed perfectly by the frames of his glasses. it was a mystery how he even found the time to go to the gym after juggling such a demanding course load, but the results were undeniable.
he was a walking contradiction â a top-tier nerd with the body of an athlete â and every time he ran a hand through his soft hair, you felt your heart stutter in your chest.
you wondered if he ever felt the same exhaustion you did, or if his nights were spent as productively as his days.
little did you know, jisungâs body was itching to turn around and take a look at the sweet girl near the window â you â even if just for a second. he was just as aware of you as you were of him. to him, you were the girl who proved herself through every action, whether it was shattering expectations on exams or delivering projects with a meticulous flair that he deeply admired. your quiet nature seemed to comfort everyone around you, while your razor-sharp skills disarmed them in the same minute.
he had taken a liking to you ever since you first approached him in the first semester, your sweet, hesitant voice asking him where the classroom was while you clutched your bag to your chest. that one interaction had been the catalyst; slowly, without even realizing it, he had fallen for you. he found himself looking for you in every crowded room, his heart doing a strange little flip whenever he saw your name next to his on the results sheet.
you were still admiring him, completely zoned out, when the head you were focused on suddenly turned. his eyes, sharp and clear behind his glasses, landed directly. on. you.
jesus fucking christ
a violent shiver ran down your spine as you instantly snapped your gaze toward the window, your heart hammering against your ribs. the heat in your cheeks was instantaneous â a deep, burning crimson that made you want to bury your face in your cardigan and never come out. you were certain youâd been caught, that your wide-eyed staring had been far too obvious to a boy as observant as jisung.
after a few excruciating seconds of staring at the campus trees, you couldn't help yourself. you stole another short glimpse, half-expecting him to have turned back to his laptop. but he hadn't moved. he was still looking at you, his head tilted slightly to the side, an unreadable expression dancing in his eyes.
gathering every ounce of courage you possessed, you offered him a tiny, hesitant smile â the kind of soft, bashful expression that would redeem you from this embarrassing moment, hopefully. his reaction was immediate. his own lips curled into a reciprocal smile, one that wasn't just polite, but warm and genuine, making his eyes crinkle at the corners.
you quickly looked down at your notes, your vision blurring as you tried to focus on the equations again. the interaction had lasted only a few heartbeats, but it was enough to make your earlier drowsiness vanish, replaced by a buzzing, electric energy.
on the other side of the row, jisung turned back to the front, but his hands were trembling slightly as they hit the keys. that smile. what he wouldn't do to keep you smiling at him â
âââââ
the next week at university was hectic, to say the least. assignment submissions were due in a relentless wave, keeping you tethered to your desk until your eyes burned. it was the final push before the end-of-semester projects were even discussed, the upcoming weeks promised to be even more intense once partners were officially assigned and due dates announced.
you already had a feeling who your partner might be, a silent hope that the department would pair the two top students together, but that was a bridge to cross in the future.
âfor now, you were just exhausted.
âafter a gruesome week of toiling hard and finally submitting every last assignment, you reached your apartment late in the evening. having already eaten on campus, you locked the door behind you with a relieved sigh, the click of the deadbolt signaling the end of your public persona for the day. you headed straight toward the bathroom, desperate to wash the remnants of the week off of you.
âyou enjoyed a long, indulgent bath, feeling your tired muscles finally relax under the steady stream of warm water. the epsom salts seemed to work wonders, drawing the tension from your limbs as you soaked in the quiet stillness of your sanctuary. it had been an entire week since you last streamed, the chaos of university life forcing your secret identity into the shadows, but you planned to go live tonight.
initially, the idea of camming had terrified you â the very thought of putting yourself out there for strangers to see made your stomach churn with a cold, hollow anxiety. you were the girl who avoided eye contact in the hallways, the one who felt exposed if your cardigan slipped too far off your shoulder in public. you had spent your whole life trying to minimize yourself, convinced that the weight of your curves made you stand out in ways that were clumsy rather than beautiful. the transition from that girl to a "camgirl" felt like a leap you weren't sure you could survive.
but as the weeks went by, the fear began to morph into something else â something that felt dangerously like freedom.
there was a strange, intoxicating power in being faceless. behind the lens. you were just a silhouette of honeyed skin and deep, inviting dips. the things that usually made you feel self-conscious in the real world â the way your thighs were heavy and soft, spreading out comfortably when you sat down, or the way your waist seemed to disappear into the generous curve of your hips â were suddenly the very things being worshipped.
you realized that the people on the other side of the screen didn't want you to be the 'ideal' you saw in magazines. they loved your fullness. they praised the plushness of your body, the way your skin yielded under the pressure of your own fingertips, and the soft, rounded lines that your university wardrobe worked so hard to disguise.
for the first time in your life, you started to see your curves not as something to be managed, but as something to be celebrated. the comments weren't just vulgar demands; they were affirmations that transformed your body into a masterpiece of soft, tactile beauty.
it empowered you in a sense. it gave you a quiet confidence that started to bleed into your daily life. when you sat in class and felt the fabric of your jeans stretching over your thighs, you were no longer overly aware. you knew, with a secret, thrumming heat in your chest, that you were the girl thousands of people stayed up for just to catch a glimpse of those very same curves.
stepping out of the bathroom, you dried yourself off and caught your reflection in the steamed-up mirror. you wiped a small circle clear, looking at the soft flush of your skin and the way your damp hair clung to the dip of your lower back. your body felt heavy in the best way possible, anchored and real. you weren't scared anymore. tonight, you were looking forward to the shift â from the girl who hid her body to the girl who owned it.
as you began pulling out the ring light and the familiar, faceless setup, you felt the weight of the assignments and the stressful week finally start to lift. you reached for your favourite outfit â a pair of tight, high-waisted denim shorts that bit just enough into your skin to emphasize the swell of your hips, and a soft, long-sleeved black top that clung to your curves like a second skin.
the main highlight for today, however, were the black lace stockings you donned.
as you pulled the delicate lace up, you watched with a thrum of quiet satisfaction as the elastic tops dug into the plushness of your thighs. the skin spilled over the intricate floral patterns, creating a soft, pillowy overflow that looked almost edible under the warm glow of the ring light. the contrast was striking â the rough blue denim, the sheer black lace, and the pale, smooth expanse of your thighs.
you adjusted the camera angle, ensuring the frame captured the dip of your waist and the way the shorts rode up just enough to showcase the lace biting into your skin. you settled onto the edge of your bed, the fabric of your top stretching across your chest as you leaned back, letting out a small, relieved sigh.
⢠moonlit_haze is live â˘
the notification pinged, and within seconds, the room started filling up. the dashboard lit up with a chaotic flurry of comments and tips, the icons dancing in the dark of your room as you settled into your spot. you smiled, shyly waving into the camera while making sure only your body from the neck down was visible.
little did you know, han jisung had just slammed his laptop shut after finishing the last of his economics data entries. his eyes were burning, his shoulders were tight, and he was ready to collapse â until his phone buzzed. the notification lit up his dark room, and his breath hitched. he didn't even hesitate, clicking the link and leaning back in his chair as the image of your thighs, spilling over those lace stockings, filled his screen.
"hi guys, it's been a minute since i've been here, hm ?" your voice was a melodic murmur. you watched the screen as the first few comments popped up:
onlyforher_65 ($50): curvy goddess !!
sam75rover ($40): missed you so much, those thighs are life saving.
kals.forlife ($35): you look so good tonight.
"hi and welcome," you replied softly, your hands coming to rest on your thighs. the lace of your stockings felt intricate under your palms, a grounding sensation as you pulled at your sleeve, revealing the thin black bra strap against your shoulder.
then, your eyes landed on the one comment that always made your heart skip a beat.
j.one_01 ($100): hi sweetheart, you look heavenly in lace.
this was your regular viewer and, you might secretly add, the absolute best one. the others were still sweet and appreciative, but j.one always said the right things that. he had this way of making you feel hotter, sexier, and more in tune with your own body. on the days when you took things further, he was the one who guided you, his words acting like a physical touch that helped you reach heights of pleasure faster than you ever thought possible.
"hi, j.one," you whispered, your voice turning a fraction more intimate as you ignored the rest of the scrolling chat. you shifted your weight, the denim of your shorts pulling tight across your hips as you leaned just a bit closer to the mic. your top slid off one shoulder as your black lace bra came into view. "i was hoping youâd show up tonight. do you really like the lace ?"
han jisung felt his throat go dry. he was sitting in his darkened dorm room, the blue light reflecting off his glasses as he watched the way your fingers dug slightly into the soft give of your thighs, the black lace biting into your skin.
j.one_01 ($100): i love it baby. especially the way it looks against your skin.
fuck â the nicknames from him hit you somewhere below your abdomen, settling down into a warm pit right over your heat. you felt a thrum of heat settle low in your belly at his words, keeping your hands right where they were for a second, fingers splayed over the floral lace.
slowly, you reached for the hem of your black top. with a soft, steady pull, you removed it, tossing it somewhere off-camera. your entire bra and beautiful, curvy chest came into view, the soft light catching the swell of your breasts and the deep curve of your waist.
âas you shifted, the ring light caught the delicate ink etched into the soft skin of your side. an elegant lily bloomed across your waist, the petals dark against your pale skin, moving slightly with every breath you took. it was a permanent, beautiful tattoo that felt almost too personal for the hundreds of strangers watching, but it made the view feel all the more intimate.
the comments flowed in faster than you could track:
softspot404 ($60): oh my god... the wait was so worth it.
knightrider24 ($45): look at that silhouette. goddess tier.
dr3am3rb0y ($55): the contrast between the ink and your skin is insane.
you bit your lip, a small, breathless giggle escaping as you looked at the numbers climbing. "do you guys like the view ?" you whispered, your hands sliding up from your lace-clad thighs to rest just beneath your bust, framing the curves that usually stayed hidden under your oversized university sweaters.
âon the other side of the screen, han jisungâs breath hitched so hard it actually hurt. he gripped the edge of his desk, his eyes wide behind his glasses as he leaned into the screen. the sight of you â so soft, so beautifully shaped â sent a wave of heat crashing over him.
to him, you were a mystery, a girl who existed only in this moonlit room, but the pull he felt toward you was becoming dangerously intense. he felt a strange, magnetic connection to the way you moved, a sense of familiarity he couldn't quite place, but he was too far gone in the moment to think about anything but the screen.
âhis heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he typed with trembling hands, his mind completely wiped of every thought.
âj.one_01 ($150): youâre breathtaking, sweetheart. i canât take my eyes off you.
you blushed, your head falling down as you murmured a thank you softly, the sound barely audible over the hum of the laptop. your hands came together to play with the intricate lace hem of your stockings, a nervous habit that coincidentally pushed your breasts together, creating a deep, enticing cleavage that made the chat go wild.
"i... i missed you guys," you whispered, the adrenaline of the week's stress finally venting into this secret, heated space.
without another word, you reached for the button of your denim shorts. with a soft rustle, you pushed them down your legs, kicking them aside. now, you were just in your black lace underwear and those stockings that bit so perfectly into your skin. your thick thighs were the undisputed center of the frame, honeyed soft skin against the dark, delicate lace.
the chat was a blur of numbers and exclamations, but one message cut through the noise with a weight that made your breath hitch.
j.one_01: fuck angel â spread those thighs for me ?
the request sent a jolt straight to your core.
how could you not fulfill his request ? slowly, you obeyed, spreading your legs just enough for your thighs to spill over the tops of the stockings in that pillowy, soft way you knew he loved.
on the other side of the screen, jisung felt like he was losing his mind. he wanted nothing more than to reach through the monitor, to feel the warmth of that skin, to bury his face in the soft give of your thighs and just drown in you. you were so soft, so perfectly shaped, and the way you yielded to his words made his heart hammer against his ribs.
"i actually brought something new today," you murmured, your voice trembling with a mix of shy excitement and genuine heat. you reached off-camera and pulled out a thick dildo, the cool weight of the silicone heavy in your palm. "i wanted to try it out... for you."
the 'you' was a secret arrow shot directly at j.one_01, a silent promise meant only for him even if the rest of the chat erupted in a frenzy, selfishly assuming the gift was theirs.
you wanted to see what the sight of it would do to him â what depraved, beautiful things heâd ask you to do. your mind raced with the possibilities. maybe rubbing it up and down with your hands, maybe licking and gagging around the blunt top, or just maybe, stuffing it inside your sopping heat. a sharp ping of a tip snapped you back to the present, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
jisung practically jolted in his seat, his cock jumping and getting painfully hard. he felt a possessive surge of adrenaline, his breath hitching as he leaned so close to the screen his glasses nearly fogged. the thought that you were singling him out, even in a room full of strangers, made his blood roar in his ears. he gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white, his mind completely consumed by the sight of your soft, small hands wrapped around that thick toy.
j.one_01 ($200): show me how it fits between those thighs, sweetheart. give it a thigh job. i want to see the lace rubbing against it while you squeeze.
your face went hot, a deep, blooming flush spreading down your chest. you should have seen this coming; his obsession with your lower half was a borderline religion. he was utterly fixated on the way your skin yielded, always worshipping the thick, pillowy expanse of your legs as if they were his personal sanctuary. to him, your thighs weren't just a feature â they were a trap he wanted to be caught in, and knowing he wanted to see them suffocate that toy made your head spin with a heavy thrill.
you intended to give him exactly what he wanted.
you settled back, bracing yourself on your elbows, and positioned the toy right in the dip where your thighs met, the black lace framing the scene like a dark, erotic portrait. as the silicone sat snug between your legs, you felt the cool girth of it pressing against your heat. you began to squeeze your legs together, the toy nearly disappearing into the soft, plush curves of your skin as you moved it back and forth. your hands reached down, kneading the parts of your own thighs that couldn't cover the toy, the friction of the lace against the silicone creating a rhythmic, wet sound that filled your quiet room.
jisung knew you were an angel â that's why he called you one â but this ? you were heaven-sent, doing exactly what he wanted and clearly finding your own pleasure in the pressure. he watched the way your skin overflowed over the lace, the way you squeezed until your muscles trembled, and he wanted nothing more than to be the one held there, to be the one suffocated by the warmth of you.
"is this... what you wanted ?" you breathed out, your eyes squeezed shut as the friction against your own skin started to push you toward that familiar, hazy edge. you could feel your mind drift to the ace student you harbored a secret crush on, imagining his hands where the toy was, his focused, sharp gaze replaced by the glowing text on your screen.
on the other side of the screen, jisung was a mess. his vision blurred, his chest heaving in a ragged rhythm as he watched your hips stutter. he was too far gone, one hand wrapped tightly around his hard cock, stroking it with a desperate, heavy friction that matched the pace of your thighs. his other hand's fingers flew across the keys.
j.one_01 ($200): spit on it, angel. get it messy.
you swore you could feel yourself drip onto the mattress, your lace panties sticking to your swollen, puffy pussy lips. the sheer filthiness of the request made your head spin. you slowly leaned over, letting a thick drop of spit fall onto the head of the toy, watching it glisten under the ring light before you spread the slickness over the length with your hands.
jisung's mind was completely hijacked by the sight of you getting messy just because he asked. and when you started whimpering â it was the end for him. his pace increased, precum dripping around his shaft giving the much needed lubrication. the schlick sounds echoed in his ears as he watched the dildo disappear between your spit covered thighs, the squelches soothing the itch in his brain.
your eyes were glassy, your breath coming in broken, desperate hitches as you increased your speed, your thighs grinding together with an intensity that made the lace groan. soft, needy whimpers began to escape you as the silicone rubbed against your clit through your panties. the drenched fabric of your underwear provided the perfect, searing amount of friction, making every slide of the toy feel raw and uninhibited.
in the haze of the friction, your mind traitorously drifted to the library â to the way jisungâs glasses would slide down his nose when he was focused, or the way his blunt fingers tapped against his textbook. a part of you wondered if he ever felt a hunger like this, or if he would look at you with that same quiet intensity if he ever saw the way your thighs were currently suffocating the toy.
"is... is this good?" you whimpered, your head tossing back and exposing the vulnerable line of your throat. "y-you like â mmmmm â like this? j.one â fuck â tell me... nghhh... i'm being a good girl, right? itâs so wet..." you whined, "please, look at me... look what you're making me do..."
your whimpers sent jisung's brain reeling as he increased his pace, assisting you alongside.
j.one_01 ($250): fuck, yes. keep making those sounds, angel. iâm right there with you. squeeze it until you break â cum for me, angel.
the command snapped you back, shattering the last of your restraint. your back arched off the mattress, a loud, broken moan tearing from your throat as your core began to pulse in heavy, rhythmic waves. you squeezed your thighs together one last time, suffocating the toy between your curves as you finally broke, your mind white with the force of the orgasm.
jisung let out a low, guttural growl, his own body jerking as he finally followed you over the cliff. he came hard, his hand trembling as he watched you go limp on the screen, your chest heaving and your skin slick with sweat and spit. he slumped back in his chair, staring at the sight of his 'angel' finally quiet and spent.
you stayed like that for a long moment, your chest heaving in the quiet room as the cooling sweat made the lace of your stockings feel heavy against your skin. the 'live' indicator was still pulsing red, a reminder that thousands had just witnessed your undoing, but to you, the room felt empty of everyone but the ghost of his presence. the hundreds of other usernames and their repetitive praise had blurred into a gray fog â for you, the only thing that had been real was the weight of j.one_01's words and the way they had forced your body to break.
you reached out with a trembling hand, your fingers hovering over the trackpad. you stole one last glance at his name at the top of the donor list, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips that he couldn't see. your mind flickered back to han for a split second â imagining him sitting in a quiet room somewhere, perhaps just as breathless as you were â before you shook the thought away.
"i'm... i'm going now," you whispered, your voice thick and honey-slow from the afterglow. "thank you for being here tonight. especially you, j.one."
with a final, soft click, the red light died. the screen went black, leaving you alone in the dim glow of your desk lamp. the silence of the room rushed back in, heavy and thick, as you sat there in your black lace and damp underwear, the phantom heat of the stream still humming under your skin. you took a shaky breath, finally letting your muscles relax into the mattress, wondering if the boy in the lecture hall would notice the subtle glow in your eyes when you saw him tomorrow.
âââââ
the week that followed was a blur of high-stakes pressure and library lights. with the semester-end projects looming, the university was a pressure cooker of stress. the professor's voice droned on about the final weighting of the semester projects, and then, the announcement hit the air.
"for the final research analysis, i've paired the top two performers. han jisung and..."
your heart skipped when you heard your name alongside his. you turned your head just enough to see him â the departmentâs golden boy. he was currently leaning back in his seat, his expression unreadable as he caught your eye. to you, he was the untouchable genius.
on the other side of the row, jisung felt a strange jolt of electricity. he had been watching you all semester, admiring the way you solved complex models with ease. to him, you were the perfect, composed topper â the one girl who actually challenged his intellect.
the walk to the library was filled with a thick, awkward silence. the late afternoon sun hit the campus, casting long shadows as you walked side-by-side, careful to keep a respectful distance.
"i have the preliminary data on the drive," jisung said, his voice a low, steady rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. "we can start with the variable adjustments."
"sounds good," you murmured, pulling your oversized cardigan tighter around you. "iâve already looked into the qualitative side."
you settled into a secluded mahogany table in the very back of the library, the air smelling of old paper and dust. for two hours, the only sound was the clicking of keys and the occasional rustle of pages.
â"if we adjust the variable here â" jisung started, his voice low and gravelly from lack of sleep. he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes fixed on the laptop screen.
âyou nodded, reaching for your notes. "then the projected growth should stabilize... right ?"
âyour voice was small, and for a split second, jisungâs eyes flickered to yours. he lingered there just a heartbeat too long, a strange, unreadable shadow crossing his face before he looked back down, nodding in agreement.
"okay, i'll highlight it for later reference" you said.
âas you reached across the table to grab a highlighter, your favorite pen rolled off the slick mahogany surface, clattering to the floor. "oh â sorry â"
âyou both moved at once. you leaned down, reaching for the pen near the leg of his chair. just as you bent over, your oversized cardigan caught on the armrest of your seat, riding up your side.
âit only happened for a second.
âthe fabric stayed caught, exposing the soft, pale curve of your waist. and there, stark and undeniable under the harsh library lights, was the small, elegant ink of a lily. the dark petals seemed to bloom right before his eyes, exactly where the ring light had caught them just nights ago.
jisungâs hand froze inches from the pen. his entire body went rigid, his breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with the heavy air. he stared at the tattoo, the image of his "angel" screaming in the back of his mind. the way the ink sat on your skin, the specific, delicate curve of the petals â it was a perfect, terrifying match to the girl who had spit on a toy because heâd asked her to.
the academic silence was replaced by a sudden, deafening roar in his ears.
he didn't want to believe it.
he couldn't.
but the evidence was etched into your skin.
slowly, he retracted his hand, his gaze traveling up from the lily to your face. his pupils were blown wide behind his glasses, his heart hammering against his ribs with a violence that made his chest ache.
"is... is something wrong, han ?" you whispered, noticing his sudden trance. you quickly pulled your cardigan back down, your face heating up as you realized youâd shown skin. "did you... find it ?"
jisung didn't move. he just looked at you, his mind a chaotic blur of library books and black lace, of silent study sessions and the sound of your whimpers through his headphones.
"that tattoo," he began, his voice dropping into that low, private register that made your stomach flip. "itâs a lily... isn't it ?"
.đĽ Ý Ëđ¸ââ .⌠angst. fluff. series masterlist!
His denial makes you think he despises you. But your life improves mysteriouslyâthanks to him. Youâll never know, but perhaps one day youâll notice. However, you start to believe someone else is behind the quiet kindness shaping your daysâuntil the truth surfaces.
Youâve worked under JYP Entertainment for almost a year now, assigned to assist with scheduling, coordination, and whatever chaos comes with managing a group like Stray Kids.
You get along with everyone else just fine.
But Minho?
Minho barely acknowledges your existence.
You keep things professional. Clean. You speak when spoken to. You pass him what he needs without expecting a thank you. You donât look at him longer than necessary.
It works better that way.
One particularly chaotic afternoon, the practice schedule had shifted three times in two hours. You were juggling calls, updating the shared calendar, and trying not to let the stress show on your face.
âWait, didnât you say the rehearsal room booking got messed up today?â
You blink, glancing up from your tablet. âYeah. Someone double-booked Studio B, so I had to request a last-minute switch. We might have to delayââ
âItâs already fixed.â
ââŚWhat?â
Seungmin shrugs, scrolling through his phone. âManager hyung said the other booking got moved.â
You frown. âThat⌠doesnât make sense. I just checked an hour ago.â
âGuess someone higher up handled it,â he says casually.
You nod slowly, still confusedâbut relieved.
Thatâs one problem down.
You donât see Minho in the corner of the room, quietly slipping his phone back into his pocket after a short call.
It keeps happening.
Small things at first.
A missing file that suddenly reappears in your inboxâperfectly organized, labeled better than you wouldâve done yourself.
A scheduling conflict that resolves before you even escalate it.
A last-minute prop request that arrives exactly on time, even though youâre sure you submitted it too late.
At first, you chalk it up to luck.
Then coincidence.
Then maybe⌠someone else on the team quietly helping out.
You ask around once, casually, during a quick break in the lounge.
âWasnât me,â Changbin says, munching on a protein bar.
âI thought it was you,â Chan replies with a small, knowing smile.
Hyunjin just tilts his head, brushing his hair back. âYouâve been doing great lately though. Everythingâs running smoother.â
Felix nods enthusiastically. âYeah! You seem less stressed. Itâs nice.â
You laugh it off, but the confusion lingers.
Because itâs not just work.
Your commute gets easier.
The bus thatâs usually packed somehow has space when youâre running late.
The cafĂŠ near the buildingâalways out of your favorite drinkâsuddenly starts having it ready when you walk in, the barista smiling like itâs the most normal thing.
Even your worst days soften at the edges, like somethingâor someoneâis smoothing them out before they can fully fall apart.
One rainy evening, you almost miss the last train home after a grueling day. But when you arrive at the platform, breathless and soaked, the train is still thereâdoors open, as if waiting just for you.
You start sleeping better.
Smiling more.
Feeling like maybe youâre finally getting the hang of things.
Minho still doesnât look at you.
Still speaks in short, polite sentences when necessary.
Still walks past you like thereâs nothing tying you together but work.
So you donât connect it.
Not when your forgotten lunch gets replaced with an extra meal someone âaccidentally ordered,â left neatly on your desk with a note that simply says âextra.â
Not when your broken pen is swapped out for a new one before you even notice itâs missing, the old one mysteriously gone from the trash.
Not when your name shows upâsubtly, quietlyâon opportunities you didnât apply for but somehow got approved for anyway: a short training session on artist management tools, a chance to shadow a senior coordinator.
You never connect it to him.
âHey,â Chan calls one evening, catching you before you leave. âYouâve been less stressed lately.â
You laugh softly. âHave I?â
âYeah. Itâs good to see.â
You nod, adjusting your bag. âThings have just been⌠working out, I guess.â
Chan hums, glancing briefly across the room.
You follow his gazeâonly to find Minho there, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone.
Expression unreadable.
Uninterested.
As always.
âYeah,â Chan says, almost to himself. âSomething like that.â
Chan doesnât say more, but thereâs a softness in his eyes that makes you wonder for a split second.
Minho notices everything.
He notices when your shoulders slump under too much work.
When you skip meals because youâre too busy fixing everyone elseâs problems.
When your voice gets smaller after someone higher up snaps at you for something that wasnât even your fault.
He notices the way you rub your temples when a headache starts creeping in.
The faint shadows under your eyes after back-to-back late nights.
He notices.
He just⌠doesnât say anything.
Because saying something would mean acknowledging it.
Acknowledging you. And thatâs⌠complicated.
So he fixes things instead. Quietly. Efficiently.
He talks to the right people without mentioning your name. Adjusts schedules under the guise of âgroup preference.â Reorders files, corrects mistakes, reroutes problems before they ever reach you.
He stays late sometimes, after everyone else has gone, making sure loose ends are tied up so tomorrow wonât overwhelm you.
He tells himself itâs practical.
Youâre part of their team.
If youâre overwhelmed, it affects them too.
Itâs just logic. Nothing more.
ââ ⢠ăťâ¸â¸
Youâre running late, juggling too many things at onceâyour tablet nearly slipping from your grip, coffee dangerously close to spilling, your mind already racing through a dozen tasks you know are waiting for you upstairs. The elevator had been slow again, and your shoes were still slightly damp from the morning rain youâd rushed through.
And thenâ
âCareful.â
A hand steadies your cup before it tips over.
You blink, startled, looking up.
Itâs one of the newer staffâJihoon. Youâve seen him around, mostly handling coordination between departments. Quiet, but friendly. He always had a calm energy about him, the kind that didnât demand attention but somehow earned it anyway.
âAhâthank you,â you say, exhaling in relief. âThat couldâve been bad.â
He laughs softly. âYeah, you looked like you were about to lose a battle with gravity.â
You smile a little, adjusting your hold. âWouldnât be the first time this week.â
Thereâs a brief pause.
Then he hesitates.
âYouâve been busy lately, right?â
You huff out a small laugh. âIs it that obvious?â
âKind of,â he admits. âBut⌠things seem better now.â
You blink.
âWhat do you mean?â
He rubs the back of his neck, glancing away for a secondâlike heâs debating something. His fingers tap lightly against his own folder, a small nervous habit you hadnât noticed before.
âJustâlike your schedules. Theyâve been smoother. Less last-minute chaos.â
Your stomach tightens, just a little.
ââŚYeah,â you say slowly. âThey have.â
Another pause.
Then, carefully, âDid you⌠have anything to do with that?â
Jihoon freezes.
Itâs subtle. Anyone else might miss it.
But you donât.
His eyes widen just slightly. His mouth opensâthen closes.
âIâuhââ
Your heart starts to pick up.
ââŚJihoon.â
He lets out an awkward laugh. âItâs notâlikeâokay, waitââ
Thatâs not a no.
You step a little closer. âDid you help me?â
âI meanâitâs not a big dealââ
âYou did?â
âI justâsometimesââ He exhales, giving in. âI noticed you were struggling. So I thought⌠maybe I could help a little. Nothing major. Just moving a few things around when I could.â
Something in your chest softens.
âOh.â
Thatâs all it takes.
It makes sense, doesnât it?
The timing. The way things started getting better. The quiet fixes, the subtle changes.
Someone had to be behind it.
And now, youâre looking at him.
ââŚWhy didnât you say anything?â you ask, softer now.
Jihoon shrugs, a little shy. âDidnât think youâd notice.â
You let out a small laugh. âI noticed. Eventually.â
He smiles at thatâwarm, genuine, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.
And just like that, the mystery settles.
You thank him properly the next dayâbringing him a drink from the cafĂŠ downstairs, the same one youâd seen him order once before. His reaction is flustered, surprised, but⌠happy. He accepts it with both hands, ears turning a faint pink.
âYou didnât have to do that.â
âI wanted to,â you say simply.
And you mean it.
Because suddenly, everything feels⌠clearer.
Warmer.
Those small, invisible acts of kindness now have a face. A reason.
A person.
You find yourself lingering a little longer when you pass him in the hallways. Sharing quick conversations during breaks. Noticing how he always seems to time his coffee runs around when you might need one too.
âYouâre smiling more these days.â
You glance up at Chan, whoâs watching you with a knowing look. The practice room is loud around you bothâmusic still echoing faintly from the speakers, members scattered in various states of rest.
âAm I?â
âYeah,â he says. âItâs nice.â
You duck your head a little, embarrassed. âThings have just been going well.â
Chan hums, like he wants to say something else.
But he doesnât.
Instead, his gaze shiftsâjust briefly.
Across the room.
Minhoâs there. Of course he is.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His hair is still slightly damp from practice, and thereâs a towel slung over one shoulder.
His eyes flick to you.
Then to Jihoon, whoâs standing a little too close, laughing at something youâd said earlier.
Then back to you.
And away.
His fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around the edge of his phone.
You donât notice.
âHey,â Jihoon says one evening, catching up to you after work. The hallway lights are dimmer at this hour, casting long shadows across the polished floors. âAre you heading out?â
âYeah,â you reply. âFinally.â
He grins. âWant company?â
You hesitate for half a second.
Then nod. âSure.â
Itâs easy.
Talking to him is easy.
And little by little, you get closer.
Shared lunches during breaks. Quick texts about schedule updates that turn into longer conversations. The kind of comfortable familiarity that builds without pressure.
âIâve been meaning to tell you something.â
You pause, looking up at him.
Itâs late again. The building mostly empty, the air quieter than usual. Only the faint hum of the vending machine down the hall breaks the silence.
Jihoon shifts on his feet, unusually nervous. Heâs holding his bag strap a little too tightly.
âWhat is it?â
He exhales, running a hand through his hair.
âI⌠didnât just help you because you were struggling.â
Your heart skips.
ââŚOh?â
âI meanâI noticed you because of that,â he admits. âBut I kept helping becauseâŚâ He laughs awkwardly. âBecause I wanted you to notice me.â
Your breath catches slightly.
âIâve been trying to get your attention for a while now.â
Something warm blooms in your chest.
Itâs⌠nice. Unexpected. But nice.
You smile, just a little.
âI think it worked.â
He lets out a relieved breath, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles back at youâbright and hopeful.
From down the hallwayâunseen, unnoticedâMinho stands still.
He hadnât meant to overhear.
He shouldnât be here.
He shouldâve left ten minutes ago, after finishing his extra practice reps.
But his feet donât move.
Not when he hears your voice.
Not when he sees the way youâre looking at someone else.
The soft lighting catches the way your expression shiftsâgentle, open, appreciative in a way heâs never seen directed at him.
Iâve been trying to get your attention.
The words echo, sharp and irritating.
Minhoâs jaw tightens. Because thatâs ridiculous.
Jihoon doesnât even know half of it.
Doesnât know about the late-night schedule changes. The conversations with management. The way Minho had memorized your workload better than his own at some pointâtracking which tasks drained you the most, which days you tended to forget lunch.
Doesnât know how many things he fixed before they could ever reach you. The quiet calls. The subtle redirects. The way heâd stayed behind more times than he could count.
And yet, youâre smiling at him like heâs the reason.
Minho lets out a quiet, humorless scoff under his breath.
Of course youâd think that.
He made sure you never knew.
Made sure it stayed that wayâclean, invisible, detached.
So what did he expect?
Recognition?
Gratitude?
No. That was never the point. Or at least⌠thatâs what he keeps telling himself.
Then why does it feel like this?
Like somethingâs gone slightly wrong in a plan he never admitted was a plan.
His chest feels heavier than it should after a long practice day. A dull, persistent ache settles behind his ribs, the kind that no amount of extra dancing or cold showers seems to shake.
He tells himself itâs nothing. Just irritation at misplaced credit. Just the sting of watching his quiet efforts get rewritten by someone bolder, someone who actually spoke up.
But the lie tastes bitter even in his own mind.
He watches you laugh softly at something Jihoon says.
The easy way your shoulders relax around him, the small tilt of your head when you listenâlike youâre truly seeing the person in front of you.
And something in him shifts.
He had convinced himself distance was safer. That not acknowledging you meant not risking the complication. Now that choice sits heavy in his stomach, cold and irreversible.
Minho pushes himself off the wall.
Turns.
And walks away.
He had protected your days.
He just hadnât realized he was breaking his own in the process.
ââ ⢠ăťâ¸â¸
Something changes.
Itâs subtle at firstâso subtle you almost convince yourself youâre imagining it.
Because things⌠stop being as easy.
Not completely. Not enough to raise alarms.
Just enough for you to notice.
The smoothness you had grown used to starts to fray at the edges. Small hiccups appear where there used to be none. A delayed approval here, a miscommunication there. Nothing catastrophic, but the contrast makes your shoulders feel a little tighter by the end of each day.
Youâre back to double-checking schedules more often.
Fixing small errors yourself.
Following up on requests that, before, seemed to resolve on their own.
Itâs not overwhelmingâbut itâs different.
And the difference sits quietly in the back of your mind, like a half-remembered dream you canât quite shake.
âHey, can we move the rehearsal an hour earlier?â
You look up from your tablet, nodding. âI can try, but Studio A is bookedââ
âIt should be free,â one of the coordinators says absentmindedly, flipping through his notes. âMinho usually adjusts that when he wants more practice time.â
You pause.
ââŚMinho?â
âYeah,â he continues, not thinking much of it. âHeâs picky with schedules. Always has something to say about timing, room assignments⌠stuff like that.â
You stare at him for a second longer than necessary.
âI see.â
Your voice stays neutral.
Professional.
But something in your chest shiftsâjust slightly.
A tiny crack in the assumption youâd been carrying for months.
Minho?
Schedules?
You frown faintly at your screen.
That doesnât⌠mean anything.
Itâs normal, isnât it? Heâs part of the group. Of course heâd have input.
Of course heâd care about their schedule.
That doesnât have anything to do with you. Right?
You repeat the thought like a quiet mantra, but it doesnât quite settle the way it used to.
The next few days, you find yourself⌠noticing him more.
Not intentionally.
It just happens.
Your eyes seem to find him in rooms without permission. Your ears catch his voice even when he speaks low.
Youâre standing near the back of the room, going over a revised schedule, when you hear voices up ahead.
âThat slot doesnât work.â
Minho.
You glance up without meaning to.
Heâs standing with one of the managers, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the paper in their hands. His posture is relaxed but decisive, the kind of quiet authority that doesnât need to raise its voice.
âItâs too tight,â he continues, tone calm but firm. âThereâs no buffer between rehearsal and recording.â
âWe can manageââ
âNo,â he cuts in quietly. âItâll cause delays.â
Thereâs a pause.
Then the manager sighs. âFine. What do you suggest?â
Minho points at something on the sheet.
You canât see exactly whereâbut you see the manager nod slowly.
ââŚThat actually works.â
You blink.
Because⌠that does work. Better than what you had planned.
The adjustment creates breathing room you hadnât even realized was missing.
You look back down at your tablet.
The revised version updates seconds later.
Cleaner.
More efficient.
Easier.
Your grip tightens just slightly on the edges of the device.
Thatâs⌠just him being thorough. Right?
The question feels heavier now.
It happens again.
And again.
A supplier issue you were about to escalate suddenly gets resolvedâafter Minho steps aside to make a quiet phone call, his voice too low to catch but the result immediate.
A change in filming order that perfectly accommodates a problem you hadnât voiced yetâsuggested by him, casually, like itâs nothing. Like he simply noticed the same flaw you had.
Little things.
Always little things.
But always helpful.
In ways that feel too tailored. Too precise.
You tell yourself itâs coincidence. You tell yourself it has nothing to do with you.
The words sound weaker each time you repeat them.
ââ ⢠ăťâ¸â¸
âWait.â
Your voice comes out before you can stop it.
Minho pauses.
Heâs by the equipment table, adjusting somethingâsomething you just noted needed fixing but hadnât gotten around to yet. His fingers move with the same quiet efficiency youâre starting to recognize.
He glances at you.
Expression neutral.
âYes?â
You hesitate.
Because now that youâve stopped himâ
you donât know what to say.
ââŚThat cable,â you manage, gesturing slightly. âI was going to fix that.â
âI know.â
The words come easily.
Too easily.
You freeze.
ââŚYou know?â
He doesnât miss a beat. âIt was obvious.â
Your brows knit together slightly.
âRight.â
Silence settles between youâunfamiliar. Because this is⌠longer than your usual interactions.
The air between you feels thicker, charged with all the things neither of you has ever said.
You study him for a second. He looks the same âcalm, indifferent, unbothered. Like always.
His eyes are steady, but thereâs something guarded in them now â something youâre only starting to notice because youâre actually looking.
So why? Why does your pulse feel a little faster?
âThanks,â you say finally, a little quieter.
Something flickers in his eyes. Quick.
Gone before you can catch it.
A brief crack in the mask.
âItâs part of the job.â
Of course it is.
You nod slowly.
âRight.â
After that, it becomes harder not to notice.
Harder not to connect things.
Harder not to⌠question.
The pattern refuses to stay hidden now.
Every small fix, every quiet intervention, every perfectly timed adjustment feels like it carries his signature â invisible until you started looking for it.
Because the timing. Itâs too precise.
Too consistent. Too⌠intentional.
And Minho. Heâs always just there.
Not close. Not obvious.
But present. Like a shadow that only appears when something needs correcting. When you need protecting, even if you never asked.
You start catching him in moments you never paid attention to before.
Like the way his gaze lingersânot on you exactly, but near you. Like heâs keeping track without wanting to be caught.
Or how he steps in just before something becomes your problem, redirecting it so smoothly it almost looks natural.
Or how he already knows what needs fixing before you even say it â as if heâs been paying attention far longer than you realized.
It doesnât make sense.
Not with the way he treats you.
Not with the distance he keeps.
The short replies. The way he still skims past you like youâre background noise.
The contradiction sits uncomfortably in your chest.
At some point, it stops feeling like coincidence.
The thought has taken root too deeply now, twisting through every small interaction, every resolved issue, every quiet adjustment you once dismissed.
And suddenly, everything starts lining up a little too perfectly.
The pieces you tried to ignore now refuse to stay scattered.
âWait, this got approved already?â
You stare at the document in your hand, confused. The stamp is fresh, the signature clear â something that should have taken days longer.
âI thought this was pending for another week.â
One of the coordinators shrugs. âMinho brought it up yesterday. Said it would delay things if it didnât get pushed through.â
You freeze.
ââŚHe did?â
âYeah,â they say casually. âHeâs weirdly involved in stuff like that.â
Weirdly.
You press your lips together, the word echoing louder than it should.
Involved.
In your workload.
In things that shouldnât concern him.
Later that day.
âWho adjusted the filming order?â
You ask it offhandedly, not expecting much. The question slips out during a quick break in the lounge, half-curiosity, half-testing.
Chan grins immediately. âTake a guess.â
ââŚMinho?â
âBingo.â
You blink.
âI didnât even report it yet.â
Chanâs smile widens, something amused flickering in his eyes. âYeah. Funny how that works, right?â
Thereâs a knowing glint there, like heâs been waiting for you to catch on. Like the rest of them have been watching this unfold quietly.
It keeps happening.
Not directly.
Never directly.
But always: Minho did this. Minho suggested that. Minho said it would be better this way.
His name surfaces in conversations youâre not even part of, attached to fixes that feel tailored to your exact pain points.
Even the boys start noticing your reactions.
âWow,â Changbin says one afternoon, dramatically placing a hand over his chest as he watches you glance toward Minho during practice. âYouâre finally paying attention to him.â
You frown. âWhat does that mean?â
Hyunjin hums, leaning back in his chair with that graceful, observant tilt of his head. âNothing. Itâs just interesting.â
âVery interesting,â Seungmin adds under his breath, not even looking up from his phone but clearly listening.
You narrow your eyes. âYouâre all being weird.â
Chan just laughs, not denying it, his eyes soft with something like quiet encouragement.
Across the room, Minho doesnât react.
Doesnât look at you.
Doesnât say anything.
He continues stretching, movements precise and controlled as always.
But his ears turn slightly red.
The color is faint, barely noticeable unless youâre already watching closely. It spreads just beneath the shell of his ear and along the back of his neck, betraying him in the one place he canât hide.
Jihoon notices the shift too.
Of course he does.
Heâs been watching you more carefully these past weeks, the easy warmth between you cooling into something strained.
âYouâve been distant.â
You sigh quietly, not looking up from your work. The spreadsheet on your screen blurs slightly from how long youâve been staring at it. âJihoonâŚâ
âI mean it,â he insists, stepping closer to your desk, his shadow falling over your keyboard. âYou barely talk to me anymore.â
âIâve been busy,â you repeat, firmer this time, fingers still typing.
âYouâre always busy,â he says, a hint of frustration slipping through, sharper than usual.
You finally look up.
âAnd I told you that already.â
Thereâs a pause.
âI justââ he exhales, running a hand through his hair. âI thought things were going somewhere.â
You soften, but only slightly.
The guilt is there, but itâs overshadowed by the growing distance you canât explain â not to him, not even fully to yourself.
âIâm sorry,â you say honestly. âBut I canât give you that right now.â
His jaw tightens.
ââŚRight now?â
You hesitate.
âJihoon.â
That hesitation says enough. It carries the weight of everything unsaid â the way your focus has been drifting, the way Minhoâs quiet presence has started occupying more space in your thoughts than it should.
You turn him down. Properly this time.
Clear. Firm. No room for misinterpretation.
The words come out steady, even if your chest feels tight afterward.
It should end there.
But it doesnât.
The rejection doesnât land cleanly. Instead, it seems to fuel something stubborn in him.
Because Jihoon⌠doesnât really stop.
At first, itâs subtle.
More messages than before â good morning texts that feel heavier, check-ins that linger too long in your notifications.
Waiting for you after work near the exit, casual smile in place like nothing changed.
Dropping by your desk more often than necessary, always with some small excuse â a shared document, a question about schedules.
You brush it off.
Stay polite.
Keep your boundaries clear, repeating the same gentle refusals.
âJust one dinner.â
You sigh, already shaking your head. âJihoon, I told youââ
âTen minutes,â he pushes. âThatâs all Iâm asking.â
âIâm busy.â
âYouâre always busy,â he repeats, stepping closer, his voice dropping lower. The space between you shrinks uncomfortably.
Something in your chest tightens.
âI said no.â
He laughs lightly, like youâre joking, like this is still playful.
âCome on. You can spare a little time for me.â
Your grip on your tablet tightens until the edges dig into your palms.
âJihoon.â
âIâve been patient,â he continues, voice edging sharper, frustration bleeding through. âIâve been helping you this whole time andââ
âI didnât ask you to.â
The words come out before you can soften them.
Silence.
Tense.
Uncomfortable.
The kind that makes the air feel thicker, harder to breathe.
His expression shifts.
Not angry.
But something close.
Hurt mixed with entitlement, a dangerous combination.
âYou didnât have to,â he says. âI did it because I like you.â
âI know,â you reply, steady. âAnd Iâm grateful. But that doesnât mean I owe you anything.â
âThatâs not what Iâm sayingââ
âThen what are you saying?â you cut in, frustration finally slipping through, your voice rising just enough to echo slightly in the quiet office area.
He steps closer again.
Too close.
The scent of his cologne feels overwhelming now.
âYouâre just⌠brushing me off like I donât matter.â
âIâm notââ
âYou are.â
âJihoon, stop.â
But he doesnât.
His hand reaches toward your armâ
âIs there a problem?â
The voice cuts inâcalm, low, sharp enough to slice through the tension instantly.
You both turn.
Minho.
He stands a few steps away, expression unreadable.
But his eyesâtheyâre fixed on Jihoon.
Cold.
Glacial, almost. The kind of look that makes the temperature in the room drop.
Jihoon straightens slightly. âNo. Weâre just talking.â
Minho glances at you briefly.
You donât say anything.
But maybe, you donât have to.
Your shoulders are tense, your posture rigid in a way that speaks volumes.
âDoesnât look like it.â
His voice stays even.
Controlled.
But thereâs an edge to it now.
Subtle.
Dangerous.
The kind of quiet authority that doesnât need volume to command space.
Jihoon lets out a small scoff. âItâs none of your business.â
Minho tilts his head slightly, the movement slow and deliberate.
âYouâre right,â he says.
A pause.
Then, âBut she said stop.â
The air shifts.
The simple statement lands like a line drawn in concrete.
Jihoonâs jaw tightens. âWeâre in the middle of something.â
Minho doesnât move. Doesnât blink.
âNot anymore.â
His stance is relaxed, but thereâs nothing casual about it. Heâs planted there, solid and unwavering, like heâs prepared to stand between you and whatever comes next for as long as it takes.
Silence stretches.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
The kind that makes Jihoonâs persistence feel suddenly small and exposed.
Because Minho doesnât raise his voice.
Doesnât make a scene.
But thereâs something in the way he stands thereâsolid, unyielding.
Like heâs not going to move. Not going to back down.
His presence fills the space without effort, protective in a way that feels instinctive rather than calculated.
Jihoon looks between the two of you.
Annoyance flickers across his face.
Then something else.
Something calculating â weighing the situation, the witnesses nearby, the fact that Minho isnât someone you can easily push past.
Finally, he exhales sharply.
âFine.â He steps back. âWhatever.â
He throws you one last lookâsomething unreadable lingering there, a mix of resentment and lingering hopeâbefore turning and walking off, footsteps echoing down the hallway a little too loudly.
The moment heâs gone, the tension breaks.
Just slightly.
The air feels lighter, though your heart is still racing.
You exhale, not realizing youâd been holding your breath.
ââŚThank you.â
Your voice comes out quieter than expected, a little shaky at the edges.
Minho doesnât respond immediately.
For a second, you think heâll just walk away like always â silent, distant, retreating back into his usual shell.
But he doesnât.
âHe shouldâve stopped the first time.â
Your brows knit together slightly.
âYeah.â
A pause.
âYou okay?â
The question catches you off guard.
Because itâs gentle. Barely there. But real.
The concern is understated, wrapped in that same calm tone, but you hear it clearly now.
You blink.
âI am now.â
Another pause.
Something unspoken lingers between you â thick with all the observations youâve been collecting, all the quiet interventions that suddenly feel impossibly intentional.
âMinho.â
He hums softly, waiting. His eyes meet yours steadily, but thereâs a new vulnerability there, barely masked.
You hesitate.
Because suddenlyâeverything youâve been noticing, everything youâve been connecting, everything that doesnât quite make senseâfeels a little closer to the surface.
The words hover on your tongue â questions about the schedules, the fixes, the silent protection â but they donât come out yet.
But instead, you just say, âThanks. For earlier.â
He nods once.
âItâs nothing.â
Itâs not.
You know that now.
The denial feels paper-thin, and for the first time, youâre certain he knows you know.
And as he turns to leave, you find yourself watching him.
Not confused anymore.
JustâŚcurious.
Your eyes follow the line of his back down the hallway, the quiet strength in his steps, and something warm and unsteady settles in your chest.
For the first time, the distance between you doesnât feel quite so impossible to cross.
ââ ⢠ăťâ¸â¸
You donât know when it shifts.
Only that one day, you stop second-guessing it.
The doubt that used to hover constantly in the back of your mind simply⌠quiets. No dramatic revelation. Just a quiet acceptance that settles in your chest like it had been waiting for permission to stay.
Because itâs not just patterns anymore.
Itâs him.
The fixes, the adjustments, the quiet protection â they all carry his signature now, and youâve stopped pretending otherwise.
âYour meeting got moved.â
You look up, startled.
Minho stands beside your desk, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding your updated schedule. The paper is neatly folded, his handwriting visible at the top in small, precise notes.
You blink.
âI didnât get notified.â
âI know,â he says simply, placing it down in front of you. âIt conflicted with the recording.â
Your fingers hover over the paper.
ââŚYou fixed it.â
He nods once. âIt made more sense this way.â
Thereâs no hesitation.
No deflection.
No pretending it just happened.
No more hiding behind coincidences or vague âsomeone handled itâ explanations.
You look up at him slowly.
And for the first timeâhe doesnât look away.
âThank you,â you say, quieter now.
Something soft flickers in his gaze â a brief warmth that softens the usual sharpness of his features.
âMm.â
Thatâs all he gives.
But itâs enough.
It feels like the first real crack in the wall heâs kept between you for so long.
After that, he stops hiding it as much.
Not completely.
Minho is still⌠Minho.
Reserved. Careful. Measured.
He doesnât suddenly become loud or overly affectionate. The changes are small, almost invisible to anyone else.
But now, when something gets fixed, he doesnât pretend it wasnât him.
When something goes wrong, he steps in before you even ask, already two steps ahead like heâs been keeping mental track of your workload.
When youâre overwhelmed, things start shifting around you againâonly this time, you see it happening.
You see him â the quiet way he speaks to managers in hallways, the subtle notes he leaves on shared documents, the extra practice time he rearranges without fanfare.
âDid you sleep?â
You blink, caught off guard by the question. It comes during a rare quiet moment in the practice room, the mirrors still fogged slightly from earlier dancing.
âWhat?â
Minho glances at you briefly, then back at the mirror in the practice room, adjusting the strap of his bag.
âYou look tired.â
You huff a small laugh. âI am.â
âThatâs not good.â
You raise a brow. âWow. Insightful.â
He ignores the sarcasm, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly.
âGo home earlier today.â
âI canât.â
âYou can.â
âI have work.â
âIâll handle it.â
You stare at him.
âYouâll handle it?â
He shrugs slightly. âItâs not hard.â
You let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, the sound lighter than you expected.
âMinho.â
He finally looks at you fully.
And thereâs something there nowâsomething steady. Intentional.
A quiet determination that makes your pulse skip.
âI donât mind.â
Your chest tightens.
Just a little.
The simple offer lands heavier than any grand gesture could have.
You donât argue after that.
You leave earlier, and the next morning everything is already sorted â clean, efficient, waiting for you like it always used to be, only now you know exactly whose hands shaped it.
Days pass.
And somehow, talking to him becomes⌠normal.
The kind of normal that still surprises you every time it happens, but no longer feels impossible.
It starts small.
Short exchanges in passing.
Dry comments tossed across the room.
The occasional teasing remark that catches you off guard because â you didnât know he had that side.
Dry, sharp, unexpectedly playful beneath the cool exterior.
âYouâre doing that wrong.â
You look up from the stack of papers, offended. âExcuse me?â
He walks over, takes one look, then fixes it in two seconds, fingers moving with practiced efficiency.
You stare.
âOkay, rude.â
âIt was inefficient.â
âYouâre inefficient.â
He scoffs softly. âThat doesnât even make sense.â
You smile.
And he almost smiles back.
The corners of his lips lift just enough to count, a rare, fleeting thing that makes something warm bloom in your stomach.
He doesnât overwhelm you.
Doesnât suddenly become someone else.
But he lingers more.
Stands a little closer when youâre reviewing schedules together.
Speaks a little longer, letting conversations stretch instead of cutting them short.
Looks at you like heâs⌠thinking. Like there are words heâs holding back but no longer hiding completely.
And you, you start looking back.
Meeting his gaze without glancing away first. Noticing the small details â the way his hair falls when heâs focused, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with practice room air, the quiet steadiness he carries even when everyone else is chaotic.
ââ ⢠ăťâ¸â¸
The cafeteria is quieter than usual.
You sit across from him, tray half-finished, conversation easy in a way that still feels new. Sunlight filters through the windows, catching on the edge of his jaw as he listens.
ââŚand then he blamed me for it,â you finish, shaking your head at the memory of a ridiculous meeting earlier.
Minho snorts softly. âThat sounds like something heâd do.â
âI literally did his job.â
âShouldâve let him suffer.â
You laugh. âIâm not that mean.â
He glances at you, unimpressed. âYou should be.â
âNot everyone can be like you.â
âGood.â
You grin. âSee? Mean.â
Thereâs a pause.
Comfortable.
The kind of silence that doesnât need filling.
Minho taps his chopsticks lightly against his tray.
ââŚYouâre doing better.â
You tilt your head. âAt work?â
He nods.
âYeah,â you admit. âI think I am.â
A beat.
Then, softer, ââŚThanks to you.â
He stills.
Just slightly.
His chopsticks pause mid-air for half a second.
You donât look away this time.
âI noticed,â you continue. âEverything.â
His gaze flickers up to yours. Searching. Like heâs trying to read how much you truly understand.
ââŚEverything?â
âEnough.â
A small smile tugs at your lips. âYouâre not as subtle as you think.â
Thatâs a lie.
Heâs very subtle.
He just chose not to be anymore.
Chose to let you see.
Minho exhales quietly, looking down at his tray.
âTook you long enough.â
You laugh softly. âYou didnât make it easy.â
âI wasnât trying to.â
âClearly.â
Another pause.
But this one feels different. Like the space between you is finally shrinking in a way that feels mutual.
And then, the chair beside your table scrapes loudly against the floor.
You both look up.
Jihoon.
His gaze moves between you and Minho.
The proximity.
The ease.
The familiarity.
Something flashes across his face â surprise, then a flicker of something sharper, more bitter.
âDidnât know you two were close.â
Your smile fades slightly.
âWeâre just having lunch.â
âRight.â
His tone says he doesnât believe that.
It carries an edge that makes the air feel heavier again.
Minho doesnât say anything.
But he leans back slightly in his chairânot away from you.
Just enough to look at Jihoon properly.
Calm.
Unbothered.
But present.
His posture is relaxed, yet thereâs a quiet protectiveness in the way he positions himself, like heâs ready if needed.
Jihoon lets out a short laugh. âYouâve been hard to catch lately.â
You nod politely. âIâve been busy.â
âWith him?â Jihoon asks, a hint of something sharper slipping through â jealousy, maybe, or lingering resentment.
Silence.
Before you can respond, Minho speaks.
âShe said sheâs busy.â
Simple.
No room for argument.
Jihoonâs jaw tightens slightly.
âI wasnât asking you.â
Minho shrugs. âYou got your answer anyway.â
The response is delivered so evenly it almost sounds casual, but the underlying steel is unmistakable.
The tension creeps in again.
Familiar.
Unwelcome.
It coils around the table like smoke.
You set your chopsticks down.
âJihoon.â
He looks at you.
âI meant what I said before,â you continue, steady. âIâm not interested.â
A pause.
âI need you to respect that.â
Your voice is calm but firm, leaving no cracks for misinterpretation.
Silence.
Longer this time.
He exhales sharply, looking away toward the windows.
ââŚYeah. Got it.â
But it doesnât sound like he does.
The words feel forced, heavy with unspoken frustration.
He lingers for a secondâeyes flicking once more between you and Minho â then turns and walks off, shoulders stiff.
The moment heâs gone, you exhale quietly.
ââŚSorry.â
Minho shakes his head once. âNot your fault.â
You glance at him.
âYou always do that.â
âDo what?â
âStep in.â
A small pause.
âWhy?â
The question hangs between you, softer than you intended.
He looks at you. Really looks at you.
And this time, he doesnât dodge it. Doesnât deflect. Doesnât hide behind indifference.
His eyes are steady, honest in a way that makes your heart beat a little louder.
âBecause I want to.â
Your breath catches.
Itâs simple.
Honest.
And somehow, that makes it heavier than anything else he couldâve said.
No grand explanation. No excuses. Just quiet truth.
You donât respond right away.
Donât know how to.
The words settle warmly in your chest, spreading slowly.
Minho picks up his chopsticks again like nothing happened.
But his ears, theyâre red again. The faint flush creeps up from his neck, betraying the calm mask heâs trying to keep.
And you, you canât stop the small smile that forms as you look down at your tray.
Because now, you finally understand.
The distance, the coldness, the careful silence â it had never been hate.
It had been something far more complicated.
ââ ⢠ăťâ¸â¸
Youâve spent weeksâmonths, evenâbeing on the receiving end of quiet fixes, subtle care, invisible hands making your life easier.
Now that you see it, you canât unsee it.
And more than that, you want to return it.
To give something back, even if itâs small. To let him feel even a fraction of the steadiness heâs given you.
It takes a bit of effort.
Because Lee Minho doesnât make it easy.
He doesnât complain.
Doesnât ask for help.
Handles everything like itâs nothing â shoulders straight, expression calm, as if the weight never bothers him.
But you notice things now.
The way he stays later than everyone else when something isnât perfect, repeating movements until theyâre flawless.
The way he quietly adjusts formations, reviews footage late into the night, rechecks details no one else would even think about.
The way he carries things alone like itâs natural. Like heâs used to being the one who makes sure everything runs smoothly behind the scenes.
So one night, you stay too.
The building is quieter than usual, only the faint hum of the air conditioning and distant echoes of music from another floor breaking the silence. You move carefully, not wanting to disturb the peace he seems to thrive in.
You fix what you can.
Small things.
Nothing overwhelming.
Just enough to lighten the load you know heâs been carrying without anyone noticing.
You reorganize the practice notes he left scattered across the table, grouping them neatly by song and date.
Update a timing sheet heâs been tweaking for days, smoothing out the overlapping slots heâd been fighting with.
Even leave a short note on top of it:
Adjusted a few things. Hope it helps :)
Your handwriting looks a little nervous next to his precise notes, but you leave it anyway.
You donât wait around.
Donât need to.
You slip out before the night gets too late, heart beating a little faster the whole way home.
But the next day.
âYou did this.â
You freeze. Slowly turning around.
Minho stands there, papers in hand.
Your papers.
The note is still on top, slightly creased now from being handled.
âDid what?â you try, already failing. Your voice comes out higher than intended.
He lifts the sheet slightly.
âThis.â
Your heart starts racing.
âOhâumâjust small thingsââ
âWhy?â
The question is quiet.
Not accusing. Just⌠curious.
His head is tilted slightly, eyes searching your face like heâs trying to understand a new language.
You open your mouth.
Close it.
Then try again.
âI just thoughtâyouâve been doing a lot so Iââ
You stop.
Because heâs looking at you.
The usual cool mask has slipped, replaced by something warmer, more open. His gaze holds a quiet surprise that makes your stomach flutter.
âI wanted to help,â you finish, voice smaller than intended.
It stretches gently between you, not uncomfortable â just full.
Your fingers fidget slightly at your sides.
âI meanâitâs nothing compared to what you do, I justââ
âYou noticed.â
You blink.
âOf course I did.â A pause. Then, quieter, âYou think I wouldnât?â
Something shifts in his expression.
Something that makes your chest tighten.
A flicker of emotion crosses his face â relief mixed with something deeper, like a long-held breath finally being released.
âYou reallyââ he starts, then stops, exhaling softly.
He looks away for a second.
Runs a hand through his hair, the strands falling back messily.
And when he looks back at you, thereâs something unsteady there.
Something honest.
Raw in its simplicity.
âYou really make it hard not to fall harder than I already have.â
You freeze.
Completely.
The words hang in the air, simple and devastating.
ââŚWhat?â
It comes out barely above a whisper. Your pulse thunders in your ears.
Minho freezes too. Like he didnât mean to say it out loud.
The realization hits him a second later, eyes widening just slightly.
âIââ
He clears his throat quickly, composure snapping back into placeâbut not completely.
Thereâs still a hint of red on his ears. Still a slight stumble in the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
ââŚForget that,â he mutters, looking down at the papers in his hands like they suddenly became very interesting.
You donât.
You canât.
The confession echoes in your mind, warm and impossible to ignore.
He looks away, then back again, something almost teasing slipping into his tone.
Like heâs trying to recover, to rebuild the walls he just accidentally lowered.
âIf you keep doing things like thisâŚâ he starts, quieter now, âI mightââ
He stops.
The sentence dangles, heavy with unspoken possibility.
You tilt your head slightly.
âYou might what?â
Your voice is soft, encouraging, a small smile already tugging at your lips.
A beat.
Then, before he can stop himself,
âStart expecting it.â
You smile.
Challenging.
âMaybe I want you to.â
The words come out lighter than you feel, but they land exactly where you meant them to.
That shuts him up.
For a second, he just stares at you.
Like something just shifted in a way he didnât prepare for.
His lips part slightly, then press together again as if heâs searching for his usual calm and coming up short.
Then, he exhales.
And something in him⌠settles.
The tension in his shoulders eases, replaced by a quiet acceptance that looks almost relieved.
âThen Iâll say it properly.â
Your breath catches.
The air between you feels charged now, electric in the best way.
Minho steps a little closer.
Not too close.
Close enough that you can see the faint freckles across his nose, the way his lashes cast soft shadows when he blinks.
âGo out with me.â
Vulnerable and steady all at once, eyes locked on yours like this is the one thing heâs sure about.
Your heart pounds.
A rush of warmth floods your chest, making your fingers tingle.
You open your mouthâ
âYN!â
You both turn.
One of the managers waves you over from across the hall.
âMeeting. Now.â
The call cuts through the moment like a sudden breeze, practical and urgent.
The moment breaks.
Just slightly.
The bubble around you both pops, but the warmth lingers.
You look back at Minho.
Heâs still watching you. Still waiting.
Patient, even now.
And suddenly, you donât feel nervous anymore. The decision feels as natural as breathing.
You step closer.
Just enough.
Rise slightly on your toes and press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.
The skin is warm beneath your lips, faintly flushed.
âI will,â you murmur.
The words brush against his skin, quiet and certain.
Then you pull backâsmilingâand walk away before you can overthink it.
Your steps feel lighter, heart still racing but in the sweetest way.
Behind you, Minho stands completely still.
Frozen in place like the world paused just for him.
Processing.
His mind replaying the feeling of your lips, the softness of your voice, the way you said yes without hesitation.
Slowly, his hand lifts to his cheek. Touching the spot you kissed. Fingers lingering there as if to make sure it was real.
ââŚWow.â
It slips out under his breath. Quiet, almost disbelieving.
And for once, Lee Minho doesnât even try to hide the smile spreading across his face.
It starts small â just the corners of his mouth â then grows into something genuine and bright, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes and softens every sharp line of his usual expression. He ducks his head slightly, still touching his cheek, letting the moment settle deep in his chest.
For the first time in a long while, the weight he usually carries feels a little lighter.
Because now, he knows youâre carrying some of it too.
jbbartram-illu
areudirty
jacobvanloon
germansingergirl
titsay
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
discoholicmusic
