pinkykoo

2003

[trivia-yandere]

nerviosa (2)

“look at you, squirming under me.”

word count: 9.137

warning: smut, kissing, dirty talking, ft. taehyung, jealous kook bc ofc he is, slight age gap, power imbalance, naive reader, she's just a girl frfr, manipulation, affair/cheating, alcohol intake, slight intoxication, body shots, groping, grinding/dry humping, nipple sucking, dirty talking, finger sucking, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f), overstimulation, creampie,

part one |

you attend the college party jungkook insisted on you coming to, only to realize he doesn’t like your attention on someone other than him.

Your jean skirt is tight and stops mid thigh. You feel weird wearing clothing that isn’t yours. Your cousin found it in her closet, discarded and forgotten about. She had held it out for you, insisting you try it on. “It actually looks nice on you.” she had said, looking up from her phone. “You want me to do your makeup?”

You knew walking into this party that whatever you were going to wear wasn’t “frat party” worthy. The graphic tee you sported gave you a few compliments from other girls when you walked through the door. You could feel your nerves drumming against your body as if in sync with the loud music. Your eyes scan the sea of party goers, majority in which you had not a clue who they were.

“You aren’t going?” you recall asking your cousin hesitantly. She had placed lipgloss onto your lips and instructed you to rub them in.

 You hoped your cousin would change her mind and not leave you alone, knowing that nothing would happen between you and Jungkook if she was around. It was growing harder to even look at yourself in the mirror, let alone her, after what you and Jungkook had done earlier. Your thighs clenched at just the thought of his fingers plunged deep inside of you.

“No, I have an event, remember?” your cousin shakes her head. She looked at you and offered a smile. “Make sure you have fun, okay? Live a little.”

The music is blaring and the home is entirely crowded, seas of people all around mingling - some dancing, some cheering as others chug down beer.

You told Jungkook you’d meet him here instead of him coming to get you. It wouldn’t be odd for the two of you to enter together. You’re sure no one would bat an eye, either way. Yet, you couldn’t face him just yet without your mind wandering to places they shouldn’t.

 Now you’re unsure if you’d ever be able to find Jungkook here at all.

Instead, it’s Jungkook who finds you. You stick out, but not in the normal way. Instead of going to you when he initially caught you walking through the front door, he decided on watching you. Your legs look so soft and long, the jean skirt short and tight. He remembers this skirt, he notes, as it belonged to your cousin. The shirt is equally tight and a bit cropped, your lower back peaking through as he watches you stroll between the sea of bodies like a hawk.

You stuck out simply because you kept to yourself. You didn’t speak to anyone besides the small nods and a few inaudible, “thanks” you give to other women who compliment you. 

You don’t grab a drink. You don’t dance.

It’s utterly noticeable that you’re unsure what to do. This is your first party, after all, and it’s far too noticeable.

“I’m glad you made it.” 

You feel a hand on your waist, warm breath tickling your ear. 

“I was suspecting you were going to bail on me.” Jungkook’s fingers tap along your waist as he tugs you along with him as he walks. He doesn’t say ‘excuse me’ as he walks through the crowd of people, but they move automatically as he and you walk by. He leads you to the kitchen where it’s less crowded, but a game of beer pong is being played. 

“Want a drink?” Jungkook questions.

Jungkook’s cologne hits your nose because of how close he is. Your heart jolts as your eyes connect with his. He stares intently at you, awaiting for your response. “No pressure.” he murmurs, a small smirk forming onto his lips. “We have juice.”

You blink, snapping out of whatever trance you were placed upon. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” you say quickly, your body warming with embarrassment. “I thought about bailing.” you admit.

Jungkook raises a brow. He goes towards the long island where an array of drinks are sat. You’ve never seen so many different varieties of alcohol all at once. “Is that so?” he asks. He grasps a clear plastic cup from a stack besides an opened bottle of apple juice. “What changed your mind?” he questions.

You watch as Jungkook rounds the island and lowers his body for a few seconds before emerging with ice now inside said plastic cup. He then grasps the nearest alcohol drink he could grasp - rum. 

“I…” you shrug your shoulders. “...just wanted to have fun.”

Jungkook glances up at you. He was a pro at this, you think, not spilling any of the clear liquid as he poured it into your cup. Then, he offers you a grin. “I’m glad. I’ll make sure you have a lot of fun.”

Jungkook hands you back your drink before you have time to process that he’s poured something else inside of it. It had to be juice, you think, grabbing it from his tattooed hand hesitantly. 

“And who’s this?”

Just as you bring the rim to your lips, an arm wraps around Jungkook. You recognize him as one of Jungkook’s friends.

“Tae,” Jungkook nods. “this is Y/N.”

“Y/N…Y/N!” Taehyung offers a smile. His eyes widen with realization. “So you’re the baby cousin.”

You scoff. “Yeah.” you murmur. You take a sip of the drink and hum. You’re surprised that it didn’t taste bad - or too strong. 

“Are you here alone?” Taehyung questions. “Or did she come with you? Any friends?”

You shake your head. “She’s net-”

“-working?” Taehyung finishes your sentence for you and laughs. Under his own gaze, you feel your cheeks warm. “She’s always doing that, isn’t she? I’m glad you came.”

Jungkook feels his friend remove his arm from his shoulder. Taehyung goes to pour himself a drink, only he pours an array of shots, using the display of neon shot glasses on the table. 

“Did you come to have fun?” Taehyung questions, glancing up at you.

Your hand squeezes the drink in your hand slightly. Taehyung is handsome, you note, dark brown hair that appears to be styled professionally, yet so simply natural. He holds your eyes long enough for you to feel yourself blush in embarrassment.

Jungkook glances from you to his friend, a slight tilt to his head.

“Y-Yeah.” you murmur, nodding slightly. “I’ve never been to a party like this before.”

Jungkook feels like he’s been given a back seat to it all. He watches the way you and Taehyung interact. He watches the way his friend passes you the shot and laughs when your face scrunches with disgust, but nonetheless you laugh along with him.

Jungkook watches it all, he notes. The way your once tense shoulders relax and you laugh just as loud as everyone else. You hadn’t cared about if you were being watched yourself because you were having fun.

Even when you all moved towards the crowded patio, you laughed and cheered along with Taehyung during a game of beer pong. He allows you to, finding that he liked watching you like this. Open. Carefree. 

What Jungkook didn’t like was the way his friend held your hips as he assisted you in a game of pool. He had gone to get a beer and returned to watch the scene unfold. You’re none the wiser under Taehyung’s predatory gaze. You were a lamb in front of a salivating wolf that wants to pounce, but decides against it.

Jungkook leans against the wall, taking a sip of his beer as you now lean against the pool table. You’re facing Taehyung, your face dangerously close to him.

There’s a quick moment in which Jungkook’s eyes meet with Taehyung’s. His friend’s eyes flicker upwards and find him, even with the amount of people around. Everyone is in their own world, but it’s as though his friend knew exactly where to look to catch sight of him.

It isn’t a secret - to his group of friends, at least - what Jungkook does with you. They don’t judge him. They don’t blame him, either. Jungkook was a man just as they were, and sometimes men had their own reasonings for why they do the things they do. Their reasoning doesn’t have to be right, but it’s understood without having to be said.

What Taehyung is telling Jungkook now with just a simple look is simple; ‘if you don’t, I will’.

“You smell so good~” Taehyung chuckles, his lips stretching into a smile, showcasing a row of pearly white teeth. “What’s wrong?”

Your body is radiating heat you aren’t sure is possible. You feel Taehyung’s hand lift your chin upwards, his head tilted just a bit. He studies you, eyes taking in each outline of your face - the curve of your lips, the arch in your eyebrows. 

“W-What do you mean?” you swallow. 

“You look nervous.” murmurs Taehyung. It’s surprising you could hear him at all in here, but you blocked out the surrounding people like background noise. “Like you’ve never been this close to a man.”

“I have!” you exclaim quickly and in defense. 

Taehyung snickers. He notices the way your eyes flash with slight annoyance. “Oh, really?” he responds. “Like Kook?”

“Wh…what?” you blink a few times and shake your head softly. “What are…why would you say that?”

Taehyung finds you cute. The way you stutter as if what you and Jungkook do behind closed doors isn’t obvious. Maybe it was because he knew his friends - and the way he was glaring daggers at him. He didn’t have to look his way to know. 

“Why not? Is it a,” Taehyung leans even closer to you. His breath tickles your skin. You smell the alcohol and in a way, it has your stomach churning (in a good way). “secret?” he whispers the last part.

Your heart jolts at the split second that Taehyung’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. His hand lets go of your chin, but it slides down your neck. His thumb rubs along your throat that has a shiver running up your spine. 

“There’s nothing going on between us.” you manage to say boldly just as Taehyung’s dark eyes meet yours.

You contemplate if this was wrong - at least the less tipsy part of your mind. You couldn’t admit to Taehyung that you and your cousin’s boyfriend had something going on. If you weren’t so naive, you wouldn't believe that he didn’t already know. 

Yet, whatever you and Jungkook did have wasn’t anything you could further pursue. He wasn’t a single man and what you and he already did had since gone too far. 

“Prove it, then.” Taehyung’s nose glides against yours. His lips are slightly parted when he speaks. “I forgot that you’re young…you probably shouldn’t be here now.”

“I’m not that young.” you protest, swallowing. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung hums.

“Yeah.” you respond, and without thinking you limit the distance between you and Taehyung.

Your glossy lips press against his own and immediately, Taehyung groans into it as if he’s been waiting for this moment. In a way, he has. He himself was quite interested upon knowing about the younger cousin; someone he always saw with her head in a book. To the untrained eye, Jungkook looked like the caring older student who took you under his wing because of your relationship with his girlfriend. To any man watching, Jungkook was just like the rest of them; a predator watching their prey right before they pounced. 

Jungkook, unlike most predators, just had more patience.

Your hand reaches out for Taehyung’s shirt. Your fingers dig into the fabric and bring him closer to you. He doesn’t hesitate. His hand cups your neck fully to keep you right in place as his tongue greedily forces its way into your mouth.

The kiss is hot and messy, full of drunken need that Taehyung isn’t aware was there until now. He presses himself against you, your breast against his own chest, your ass now fully on the pool table but it’d be a lie to say if either of you cared right now.

There’s a throbbing that shoots right between your legs and your mind ignores the faint screaming of your sober mind to stop this. People were looking - not in disgust or scandal. This was normal to them.

You feel Taehyung shove himself away from you before you could react. Your eyes flutter open, your cheeks warming up when you realize Jungkook is now in front of you. His eyes are hard and piercing down right at you. 

“I’m taking you home.” Jungkook grumbles. His tattooed hand snatches you harshly by your bicep and he yanks you off of the pool table.

Taehyung licks his lips of your flavored gloss. He doesn’t fight Jungkook. ‘If you don’t, I will.’ Is what Taehyung’s eyes had told his younger friend, and Jungkook heeded the warning. 

“What are you doing?!” you hiss, attempting to pull yourself away from Jungkook’s grasp. 

“Are you suddenly hard of hearing?” Jungkook hisses back. “I’m taking you home.”

“I don’t want to go.” 

This time you do manage to get lost from Jungkook, but it results in you nearly falling right into Taehyung. There’s more eyes on you, the music changing to something more upbeat. 

“You’ve had too much to drink.” Jungkook’s eyes glare at you then flicker to his friend. “Find your own way home.”

“Already planned on it.” Taehyung flashes Jungkook a knowing grin. 

“What? No!” you shake your head. You manage to balance yourself. “I want to stay-”

“And do what?” Jungkook spats. He wasn’t going to do this with you here. “Get fucked in front of everyone like some type of whore?”

Jungkook didn’t mean that.

The sight of you kissing Taehyung so freely had Jungkook’s blood running cold. He could’ve stopped it sooner, but he hadn’t. Instead, he remained in the corner and stood witness to how far you’d take it. He hadn’t expected you to be the one to initiate the kiss, and the sight of his friend's possessive hand upon you had sent him in a rage.

“Fuck. You.” you push past Jungkook and people that were now surrounding you two. Your throat aches, and that only meant one thing.

Jungkook takes a deep breath. He follows after you, not bothering to say any forms of “excuse me’s” to the people he pushed past. You were fast, but not fast enough. Just as you reach the opened front door, Jungkook has a grip on your bicep once more.

“Let me-”

“I didn’t mean that.” Jungkook says quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah sure you didn’t.” you spat, yanking your arm, but Jungkook’s grip is tight. “Let go.”

“Not until you agree to talking to me.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Away from here.”

A few people shove past you, but Jungkook’s hold on you assures you don’t stumble. You were growing irritated the longer you remained at this party. Your eyes glare up at Jungkook, but he isn’t phased. 

“I don’t want to go home.” your teeth grit. “I haven’t even been here for a couple hours. I thought you said you wanted me to be here.”

Only softly does Jungkook push you out from the doorway and down the pathway from the estate. It’s quieter outside and there isn’t even a breeze out. When you and he are further away from the chaos of the party, he finally lets your bicep go. “I’m sorry for what I said in there.”

“You’re sorry for embarrassing me? Thanks.” you spat sarcastically. 

“Everyone is drunk, high or both.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “They won’t remember a thing.”

“That isn’t the point and you know it.”

Jungkook does know. Only a small part of him feels bad. It was him that encouraged you to come to this party and be a normal college student. You were doing just that and ruined it for you.

Only, you weren’t supposed to be doing any of that with Taehyung. It was Jungkook who wanted to dance with you. It was him who wanted you to be consumed with. Even if people had known he wasn’t a single man, those wouldn’t remember (or truly care) what they saw.

“You were all over him right in my face.” Jungkook’s tone lowers. “You just met him.”

“You told me to have fun!” you spat, your hands crashing against his chest harshly. You weren’t like this, you note, but the alcohol mixed with pure anger (and slight humiliation) was consuming you. “You told me to come,” you continue, shoving him again. “and be a normal college student and-”

“With me!” Jungkook spats right back at you. “You weren’t supposed to go off with my friend. I invited you here, not him!” Jungkook waves a dismissed hand back to the estate - the party. All of it. He wasn’t in the mood to go back in and do anything he planned tonight.

“Last time I checked, you had a girlfriend.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “I had a girlfriend when you came around my fingers earlier.”

Your shoulders falter.

“I had a girlfriend when you called yourself my dirty girl.” Jungkook takes a step closer to you. “I had a girlfriend when you said you weren’t going to tell her, right?”

You gasp when Jungkook snatches your shirt and pulls you towards him. Your eyes immediately roam around, but he doesn’t give a damn who’s watching or not.

“I had a girlfriend when I told you it’d be a secret you and I share, huh?” Jungkook murmurs. “So don’t act like you care about her now.

Jungkook’s words crash upon you. You don’t like how they make you feel. You don’t like when he’s right. 

“You don’t want to go home? Fine. But we aren’t staying here.” Jungkook lets go of your shirt. “Come on.”

You follow Jungkook to the side of the estate, you quiet as you contemplate his words. You never felt shittier, you think, than having Jungkook out of all people throw your actions in your face.

You don’t realize Jungkook has stopped walking until you feel something hard being shoved at you.

“Huh?”

Your hands hold onto something heavy. It takes you a few seconds to realize it’s a helmet. Its shell is black with a sleek purple  visor that shows your reflection. Your eyes glance up to see Jungkook swing his leg around a motorcycle. 

“Y-You didn’t drive today?” you try not to sound too nervous, but it’s hard. 

Jungkook starts the motorcycle. There’s a high pitched click, followed by rapid roar as the engine cuts on. The lights flash brightly against the estate walls.

“My car? Nope.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Put on the helmet and get on.”

Your eyes widen. “I’ve never been on one before.” you shake your own head. “You only have one helmet?!”

Jungkook snickers. “Well I can’t let a pretty thing like you go without.” he says. “I’ll drive slow, I promise.”

At your hesitation, Jungkook furrows his brows at you. “This is a tame motorcycle. It's mainly used for cruising.” he winks at you. “In style.”

You look down at the helmet in your hands. The purple visor stares right back up at you. “How do you even see out of this?” you murmur, mainly to yourself. It was evident that if you wanted to get home, you'd have to get on this very motorcycle.

Jungkook smiles when you put the helmet over your head. You look cute, he thinks. Completely out of your element entirely, but cute nonetheless.

You felt like an idiot wearing this helmet, but you hop on the motorcycle right behind Jungkook. 

You push the visor up. “This doesn’t feel safe!” you exclaim. 

“Hold onto me and shut up.” Jungkook says back, no annoyance in his voice at all. 

Hesitantly, you place your hands onto Jungkook’s shoulders.

Jungkook snorts. “No,” he shakes his head. He reaches his hands to tap your hand that's on his shoulder before he gently tugs at it. He places it around his waist. “hold onto me securely, baby. We wouldn’t want you to fall off.”

A part of you is still upset at Jungkook for insisting you come to this party just to drag you out before you could fully experience it. However, you listen - as nervous as you were. You push the visor back down before leaning closer to the man. You wrap your arms around him.

Without allowing you time to adjust, Jungkook twists the throttle and the bike begins to move - only gently - but it was enough for you to slam your entire body against his, your arms tightening around him. You’d be damned if you fell off after you survived this world this long.

Jungkook likes the way your body feels against his, his chest rumbling when he feels your arms sink into him nervously. 

Jungkook twists the throttle again, adding more acceleration and drives down the long drive way and further away from the estate. The wind flows through his dark hair just as he whips down the street. This is his first time riding with anyone as his own girlfriend was just as skeptical. He finds it exciting - especially because it was you. 

Riding for Jungkook meant he could clear his mind. He enjoyed riding around dusk as there wasn’t much traffic and the scenery surrounding him was beautiful. Even now, the wind through him, the vibrations. It’s a thrill that pumps through his veins, along with dopamine and adrenaline. The rumble of the engine only adds on to the excitement.

You could practically mold into Jungkook’s skin with how tight you were holding onto him. The street lights, in your own humble opinion, race past you and you’re glad you had on the helmet.

“The first time was rough for me, too.” Jungkook hollers back to you. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah!” you manage to call back, your hands grabbing a fistfull of his shirt. “Where are we going?!”

“Just enjoy the ride!”

So you do - the best way you could. As Jungkook accelerates, it doesn’t feel like you’re simply going faster, but instead of being pulled forward by rushing wind, sending a surge through your body. 

The streets are empty as Jungkook tears through them, a heightened sense of being alive at this very moment. Your arms around it makes it even better to him, the closeness of it. The way he can even feel your beating heart right against his back.

It felt like forever until Jungkook finally began to slow down. You hadn’t paid much attention to your surroundings and instead, actually calmed down into the ride. You could understand why the older man was content with riding, even if it wasn’t something you’d do on your own.

When Jungkook comes to a stop is when you release his waist, the warmth he had going with him. You lift the helmet from your head, blinking your eyes just a bit to adjust to the warm lighting coming from the tall building he’s parked in front of. 

“You…live here?” you ask him, eyes widening a bit.

The high-rise building is modern, surrounded by tall, black gates. The outside lights offer a warm, illuminating glow as Jungkook enters the code on the keypad. Slowly, the dark gates open.

You don’t bother putting the helmet back on as the motorcycle begins to move once more. Your eyes scan the high, floor to ceiling windows, all dark tinted glass for privacy. 

Jungkook drives through an open entrance that leads the two of you through a garage where several expensive cars - and other motorcycles - are parked. 

“I’m sorry again,” Jungkook begins as he parks his bike by a set of elevators. He turns off the motorcycle. “for dragging you out of there. I didn’t want you to do anything you’d regret when you were sober.”

He didn’t want you to do anything with someone that wasn’t him is what he kept to himself.

Jungkook gets off of the bike and turns towards you. He offers his hand for you to take. Hesitantly, you do.

“We can continue to party here.” Jungkook states as you get off of the bike yourself. He laces his fingers through yours. “If that’s fine with you.”

You swallow. Was there truly any going back? “Yeah.” you murmur. “It’s fine.”

Jungkook grins. He tugs you gently towards the elevator. It opens within seconds of Jungkook pressing the button. As you enter, the back of said elevator showcases a large floor length mirror that covers it entirely. You scan your appearance for a moment, your gloss a bit smudged and your eyes were only a bit red.

The elevator goes higher and higher while all you could do was watch the red numbers grow.

“You look nervous.” Jungkook grabs your attention. He lifts your intertwined hands up to his lips. He presses a kiss against your hand. 

Your eyes meet. 

“I think you brought me here to get me all alone.”

Your brows furrow for a moment at your own words. You hadn’t thought about what you were going to say before speaking it.

“And if I did?” Jungkook retorts. “Is that bad?”

The elevator continues to go higher and higher as Jungkook and you continue to peer at one another.

“N…” you shake your head gently. “...No.”

The elevator dings.

“And it’ll be our little secret?” Jungkook tilts his head a bit just as the elevator doors begin. The hallway is dimly lit in a cozy way. There’s only 2 doors on this floor and on opposite sides of one another. 

“Our little secret…” you murmur. 

You ponder how far things were going to go with Jungkook. Would you be the one to put an end to it, or would he? You weren’t sure how long you and he had until this would have to eventually end. If you’re lucky, mutually and without your cousin finding out about the betrayal.

The penthouse is modern and sleek - and entirely dark. The walls are a cream color while the overall decor is mostly black with charcoal tones. Instantly, you notice how high you were as your eyes peer out the floor to ceiling windows, the city lights outside appear so far below.

“It’s very clean here.” you think aloud, eyes scanning the tidy area. There’s a large, black leather sectional that has a glossy finish. The coffee table matches the couch, black but glass and it’s already holding alcohol, half full. 

“You take me for a slop?” Jungkook questions. He’s watching you peer around the penthouse. He wonders what you’re thinking. The first time he brought your cousin here, she hadn’t wanted to stay for long, stating that the penthouse - that she assured to mention was bought by his father - was too much space for one person. It’s why he often spent so much time at your apartment.

“Of course not.” you turn to face him. You inhale through your nose deeply before speaking again. “It’s nice. High…” you trail off. 

Jungkook’s lip twitches upwards. “It is.” he murmurs. “Sometimes I like to sit on the balcony railing.”

Your brows knit together and your eyes widen. “That’s dangerous!” you exclaim. “You can’t be that bored.”

Jungkook snickers. “I like the adrenaline that comes with it.” he states. “Want a drink?”

Jungkook has a variety of alcohol, you note. On the right wall, just underneath the mounted television, is a cooler. It’s tinted and at first glance, you thought it was one of those expensive electric fire places you saw.

“That’s a lot of alcohol for one person.” you note from behind him. 

“Luckily you’re here to help me, huh?” Jungkook takes out a variety. He isn’t expecting you to drink much, but he’s sure you’re still fairly new to it. He places them onto his coffee table besides the other bottles. “Sit down. You don’t have to be so awkward.”

You do as you’re told as Jungkook makes his way down the hall. He returns in under a minute with two shot glasses. You aren’t surprised that they’re tinted dark, as well. 

“So what? We’re just drinking?” you ponder. “For that, we could’ve gone back to the party.”

“So you can continue sucking my friends face off?” Jungkook questions. “Do or drink.”

“What?”

“Do,” Jungkook places the two glasses onto his coffee table. He grabs the closest bottle he could - tequila - and pops it open. “or drink. Or both, I’m down for whatever.”

“Like truth or dare?” you question as Jungkook pours two shots. 

“Yea. But this is just the dare option.” Jungkook’s eyes flicker to you, sparkling with mischief. “Let’s take a shot just to get it started.”

Jungkook holds out the shot glass for you. It’s filled to the brim and even away from your face you can smell how strong the tequila is.

“You chickening out?” 

You glance up from the shot to Jungkook, unamused. “No.” you respond. “We didn’t come all this way for nothing.”

Jungkook presses the shot to his lips. “Do what you want,” he murmurs before he downs the shot. His throat bobs as he swallows. “because you want to.”

Jungkook goes to pour another shot, but this time he holds it in his hands. You contemplate Jungkook’s words for a moment. You’re sure you understood it - do what you want, not what you think he wants you to do. 

Jungkook chuckles a bit when you take the shot, the harsh liquid burning your throat in just the right way. On the ride here, you felt yourself sobering up just a bit that you can now taste the alcohol that once went down like water at the party.

“So, are you going first?” you ask Jungkook, holding out your shot glass for him to fill.

“I can.” Jungkook offers you his own shot glass and takes yours to re-pour the alcohol. “Mild? Medium?”

“What?” 

Jungkook leans against the couch to get comfortable. 

“How tame is this game going to be?” Jungkook questions. “Since it’s your first time, we can play mildly-”

“Hot.” you deadpan.

Jungkook goes silent and in an instant, you contemplate maybe you were trying too hard.

“Or-”

“Hot it is. There’s no holding back.” Jungkook nods. “I dare you to strip.” Jungkook states. “Not nude.” Not yet, he thinks.

It isn’t anything new, you think, and yet you’re nervous. Jungkook’s eyes are peering at you, unblinking. Unmoving. You place the shot onto the coffee table and do as you’re dared to do. You start with your shirt, removing the fabric so slowly that Jungkook believes you’re intentionally teasing him. Your bra clings onto your chest and bounces ever so lightly when you finally get the shirt over your head.

The jean skirt is next and you get up for this. Jungkook feels his heart race at the sign of your panties. They’re simple cotton, he notes, but the simplicity adds on to his attraction towards you. You didn’t need to wear anything overly sexual for him to be aroused by you. He swallows just as you sit down and face him. 

“Your turn.” Jungkook murmurs, his eyes slowly trailing back to your face. 

“I dare you to do the same.”

When you watch Jungkook take the shot, your shoulders falter a bit. You weren’t expecting him to do that. 

However, Jungkook then unbuckles his belt as he stands. He removes his pants and discards them carelessly. He goes for his shirt next, your eyes fixed on his now exposed chest. The tattoos that connect from said chest, to his shoulder, all the way from his biceps to his hands. You find yourself swallowing as Jungkook sits down, this time closer to you.

“I guess it’s my turn again.” Jungkook hums. “Ya’ sure you’re not nervous?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. Jungkook’s closeness is evident by how his body heat radiates towards you. Your heart is beating in your chest rapidly that your tipsy mind swears it’ll explode right now.

“Why do you ask?” you respond, deflecting the question as the answer is obvious. Your palms were seconds from sweating. “Do I look nervous?”

Yes, Jungkook thinks, but he knows you by now. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t a bundle of nerves and sexual tension.

Instead, Jungkook snickers. “Come here,” he says. He grasps the bottle from the coffee table and opens the bottle. The top flies off and Jungkook makes no move to capture it from wherever it’s fallen. You watch Jungkook take a swig from the bottle, a bit of the alcohol trailing down the corner of his lips and it hits his chest.

You scooted closer to Jungkook, your eyes glancing from his chest to the dark look in his eyes.

“I’m not going to bite you, baby.” Jungkook thinks how he wishes he could just sink his teeth into you and trail his tongue along your skin right about now. But he’ll take it slow. “It’s just me. It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

You hate to be reminded.

Was there any going back now? You and he both are half naked in his high rise apartment. It’s evident that something is going to happen.

No, you think, there wasn’t any going back. Jungkook spreads his legs just as you climb into his lip, his free hand settling onto your waist. 

“I dare you-”

“It’s my turn!” you exclaim.

Smirking, Jungkook shakes his head. “I never dared you to come to me, baby.” he says teasingly. He was right, you think, and your cheeks warm at the thought. “I dare you to kiss me.”

You don’t hesitate. Your hands place them on both sides of Jungkook’s cheeks and you press your lips onto his. Instantly, you can taste the tequila, but somehow he makes that bitter taste seem sweet.

Jungkook groans into your lips. It doesn’t take much for a dent to grow in his underwear and you feel it right at your core. 

“I dare you…” your nose nestles against Jungkook’s, your lips pressing into his again - and again. His hold onto your waist tightens, keeping you right in the spot he wants you. “...to tell me how you felt.”

Jungkook’s tongue trails along your bottom lip. “How I felt about what?” he breathes.

“When you watched me make out with your friend.” you say against his lips. “How did it make you feel?”

You lean away from him just enough for your eyes to meet. 

Jungkook tilts his head, dark eyes scanning your face. “Why?” he questions. “Did you do it to get a rise out of me?”

Without notice, your thighs tighten against his, your knees at his waist. 

“I think you did.” Jungkook murmurs. He’s still holding the bottom of tequila and he takes another swig. “You knew I was watching you the entire time, huh? You gave Taehyung something that took me months to get.”

“As far as I know, Taehyung is single.” you retort.

“Oh?” Jungkook snickers. “We know that doesn’t make a difference, baby, because if it did…” Jungkook’s free hand glides from your waist, to your ass. He knows he isn’t too intoxicated to imagine the throbbing right between your legs. “...you wouldn’t be with me right now.”

You gasp when Jungkook’s hand squeezes your ass, unblinking eyes watching you closely.

“Taehyung is one of my best friends,” Jungkook says. “but watching the way he got to touch you so easily made me want to kill him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“And you do?”

“I do.” Jungkook presses his lips to yours again. He forces his tongue into your mouth and suckles onto yours. 

The kiss is needy, wet and entirely lewd and the both of you melt into it. It turns into something hotter; passionate. Your hips grinds automatically, your clit needily humping against Jungkook’s clothed bulge and Jungkook wishes he’d dared you to get completely naked instead. But he has to remind himself that you and he have more than enough time. The entire night, he thinks, and if he was lucky, the weekend entirely. Your cousin would be busy and wouldn’t notice her boyfriend and cousin away.

“Do you wanna stop?” Jungkook breaks the kiss first, much to his own dismay, but his mind is racing with different ways he wants to have you. He isn’t sure he’d be able to contain himself if things got any further.

“D-Do you?”

“Fuck, no.” Jungkook groans. “There’s so much I want to do to you, baby.”

Your thighs squeeze, ever so gently, Jungkook in. Your breathing increases and the older man knows that you're curious - as is the increasing heartbeat between your legs. 

“Like what?” you dare ask, Your mind flashes with that forbidden moment you and he shared in his car, his fingers plunging so deep inside of you that your thighs clench even tighter. 

“Excited?” 

There’s a squeeze on your ass that has your body jolting.

“Have you ever given anyone a body shot?” asks Jungkook, though he’s sure of the answer. 

You shake your head.

“I dare you to let me.” Jungkook’s eyes does that twinkle again. “My own way, at least.” he murmurs.

Slowly, you nod your head. You’re unsure what to expect so all you do is wait. Jungkook raises the bottle and just when you’re sure he’s about to take a sip from it, he doesn’t. Instead, he pours the liquid onto you. It falls down your neck, the cool liquid having you gasping. 

Jungkook presses himself closer to you, his tongue - warm in contrast to the alcohol - swirls against the soft skin of your breast as he licks up the trail of tequila he’s poured onto you.

Your body shudders as Jungkook’s warm tongue licks from your breast, to your collarbone and finally your neck. “You okay?” he questions from your neck. There's a twitch that you feel from where you’re sitting.

“Y-Yeah,” you say. “feels good.” you whisper, your tone so low and only a part of you wishing he hadn’t heard it.

Jungkook does hear it, because of course he does. It fuels him to continue, this time pouring the alcohol against your breast entirely and diving in. This time, his eyes flicker up at you as his tongue laps up the falling droplets. He studies your expression - parted lips, clouded eyes and arching back.

“You’re a lot dirtier than I thought.” Jungkook hums. His free hand releases your ass to replace it with your covered breast. Your bra is soaked, covered in tequila. Jungkook forces his finger through the bra, slowly sliding it so your breast could be fully free. “Was there a scene like this in those dirty books you read?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, but more off guard by the way Jungkook flicks your nipple with a greedy tongue. It’s all he needs until he’s snatching the bra off of you entirely and diving into your chest.

Your shock could only last so long. His hands engulf your breast entirely, kneading them in his palms as his tongue trails along your skin. He plops a nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling the excited bud in his mouth. He isn’t being calm about it. There wasn’t a need to be silent when you and he were here alone. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to assure you and he were alone - he knew the two of you were.

“Hah~ Kook!” you gasp. His teeth, only gently, nipples at your nipple before he plops it from his lips. He stares hungrily at it before averting his eyes up to look at you. 

“You like it.” Jungkook dismisses. “I can feel your pussy, baby.”

You groan.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jungkook assures. “It’s your turn, baby.”

You nearly forgot about the game. 

“Oh…okay.” you nod.

Jungkook has a low grin on his lips. It’s teasing and not at all taunting, but your heart is racing and your body is burning. You can feel the throbbing between your legs heavier and it’s even more evident now that so can he. 

Jungkook knows of your inexperience with it all, even claiming the “boys” you’ve been with weren’t anything compared to him. He isn’t wrong in the slightest, but you’re still embarrassed to sit here and know little of what you’re doing.

“I dare you to let me do a body shot off of you!” you exclaim. “In my own way.”

“Oh? Feeling bold?” Jungkook is intrigued. He lifts the tequila bottle for you to take.

With shaking hands, you do. You glance at him, his eyes watching your every move that there isn’t any way you could fuck this up and embarrass yourself further. 

Liquid courage, you think to yourself, and lift the bottle to your lips and take a swig. It doesn't burn when it goes down.

Then, your eyes trail to Jungkook’s shoulders, his tattoos on his chest that connect to the sleeve that makes him even more of an attractive man.

“Nervous?” 

Jungkook’s voice gets you out of your thoughts again.

“You’re so cute, you know?”

You squeeze the bottle. 

“I’m not nervous.” you mumble the lie, even if there wasn’t a need to do so. Jungkook knows you by now. “It’s just you.”

You get off of Jungkook’s lap - much to his dismay - and hover above him long enough to splash his chest with the alcohol. He flinches a bit, but doesn’t speak. You pour more than you intended to, the alcohol trailing from his chest, down his abs and unintentionally to his bulge. 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. Instead, his lips twitched upwards. He truly does think you’re cute, his cock twitching at the soft look in your eyes - the naivety and innocence he adores.

You swallow, dropping to your knees in front of him. You place the nearly empty bottle down beside you with nervous hands. Your eyes, those same eyes he adores, look up at him as your tongue places itself onto his clothed bulge. 

Instantly, Jungkook’s breath hitches. Both of your hands glide upwards onto his thighs as your tongue trails upwards from his twitching bulge, to his abdomen. Your eyes remain on his, licking up the tequila from his abs, to his tattooed chest. Your tongue doesn’t stop until you’re at his neck, and even then you replace your tongue with your lips, pressing a kiss to the nape of it.

“You look nervous.” you tease. 

You remove yourself from his neck to catch Jungkook’s expression.

“It’s always the shy girls, isn’t it?” Jungkook pecks your lips before you could get too far away from him. 

“Your turn.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “I dare you to tell me a fantasy of yours.”

Your brows knit together.

“Don’t look like that.” Jungkook snickers. “All those dirty books you read, there has to be something in there you fantasize about. You told me you touch yourself,” a tattooed hand places itself in your inner thigh and squeezes it. “and I felt how wet that pussy could get. So tell me.”

And like before, Jungkook takes back control. You wouldn't know what to do with it, anyways.

“I always fantasized about being fucked hard.”

Jungkook’s ears perk as you speak.

“When I read, I imagine it’s me being fucked like how they are.” you continue. You’ve never told anyone about the books you read, or about anything about your own fantasies. 

“And how are they fucked?”

There’s another squeeze to your thigh.

“Hard.” you whisper. “Disrespectfully. Like they’re…claimed.”

For a few moments, you and Jungkook are silently staring at one another. The tension is high, heat radiating off of the both of you. He’s just as sticky as you are, his hold on you never untightening. 

“I guess it’s my turn.” you break the silence. “I dare you…”

Jungkook’s unblinking.

“...fulfill my fantasy.”

A tighter squeeze to your thigh.

“Claim me as yours. It’ll be our little secret.” 

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. You’re pushed onto the leather couch rapidly and within seconds, your panties are pulled off of you. He’s on top of you, forcing your thighs apart so he can see your pussy in all its glory. 

“I knew you were a slut.” Jungkook leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “My slut to claim as my own, is that right?”

“Yea~” you gasp out as Jungkook’s lips kiss your chin, to your chest. “Your slut.”

Jungkook likes the sound of it. He continues to kiss down your body until he’s right between your legs. You’re so wet, your clit puffy and begging for any attention, and he’s fully prepared to give it just that. His tongue is flat and drags between your folds slowly to savor that sweet taste of you -  a taste his mind suddenly tells him that Taehyung could’ve had.

Taehyung.

Kim Taehyung, his friend and a man you just met could’ve had this sweet pussy on his tongue right now. 

Now, Jungkook is entirely pissed at just the possibility - even if the chances were low - of him being in this position. His hands slam down on your inner thighs that are threatening to close around him, and he dives directly into your clit. His tongue circles harshly around it, relentless and utterly obsessed. 

“K-Kook, wait-” 

The words leave you. Regardless, they fall on deaf ears. His tongue laps from below, all the way to the top, his head bobbing from side to side.

Your lower back arches a bit as Jungkook claims you as you tell him to, your cunt fully exposed to his mouth. Your hands clench together and your nails dig into your palm.

“Now that I’ve claimed this pussy as my own, it’s only right that only I get to have it.”

It’s a ludicrous request coming from a man in a relationship, but he wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t have audacity. Your mind is far too consumed with pleasure to care about how insane it sounds, but you’re agreeing without any thoughts, nodding your head dumbly.

Jungkook solidifies it by popping two fingers inside of you, your wet pussy squelching obscenely. He pushes them in deeper and deeper, your gummy walls clasping around them as he goes knuckles deep.

“My pretty pussy,” 

Jungkook pumps, his tongue circling your clit to add onto your madness. He keeps his fingers deep, stretching you out just the way he knows you like and in return, you continue to press your sweet cunt against his greedy tongue. 

Jungkook laps your juices up, relentlessly even when you’re squirming and squealing above him. Your thighs shake and your eyes are rolling, overstimulation flowing through your entire body. You haven’t felt this before, you think, being fully doted on has your body spasming, but wanting more.

You break into a high-pitched whimper as Jungkook’s warm tongue remains on your clit, suckling and twirling, as his fingers pump brutally inside you. He was milking you for all you had to give him, his fingers fully coated in milky arousal.

“Fuck - I-I feel…cu-umming~”

Your body is trembling entirely, back continuing to arch right into him. Your eyes squeeze shut, your moans growing louder and drawn out. 

Jungkook feels it, the way your pussy spasms around his pumping fingers, clenching and unclenching as if begging to be mercied, but he doesn’t allow you any. No, he continues on lapping onto your clit that your toes curl, the overstimulation now turning into pain - not an uncomfortable one, but the pleasurable kind. 

Your body gives out, arousal pooling out of you just as his fingers do. They splash onto his couch, but he couldn’t find it in him to care; not when you looked this delectable. 

You’re gasping, but Jungkook isn’t one to waste time. No, you told him to claim you as his and he has every plan to do just that. 

Your eyes snap open when you feel something slide past your lips. 

“Suck them,” Jungkook demands, his fingers deep in your mouth. “Taste how good you are.”

You groan, your eyes fluttering with just how obscene this all is - and how much you loved it.

You do as you’re told, like the good slut you told Jungkook you were, your fingers suckling on the two digits in your mouth, fluttering eyes looking up at Jungkook innocently.

Jungkook shakes his head, licking his lips of the same taste. “My good little slut.” he murmurs. “You act so shy and reserved, but we know what you really are.”

Jungkook removes his fingers from your lips, your saliva coating them. 

With a hitched breath, you say, “Y-Your….slut?”

“Exactly.” 

Jungkook pushes his underwear down and kicks them off. His cock springs out, tip flushed and oozing with sticky cum. It’s pretty, you think, veins drawn down them.

“Tell me what you want.”

You swallow. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Jungkook groans as he wraps a hand around his cock. “You have a dirty mouth, baby.”

You watch Jungkook, eyes fixed on how hot he looks. Watching a man touch himself has never intrigued you, but you understood why not. They weren’t Jeon Jungkook.

“I thought about fucking you for so long, you know?” Jungkook admits. “Filling you full of my cum.”

Your cheeks grow hot. “I…” you blink a few times. “I’m not…on anything.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “That’s okay.” he murmurs. “I’ll buy you something tomorrow.”

You aren’t in the right mind to deny him, so you nod and say, “Okay.”

You’re so submissive that Jungkook pumps his cock harder. “You’d let me?” he asks, almost in disbelief. “Of course you’d let me…” he breaks out in a grin. 

You nod your head. “I’d let you.” you assure, eyes flickering between his cock to his eyes. “Please fuck me, Kook.”

Grunting, Jungkook finds himself between your legs faster than either of you could fathom. He hikes a leg upward, the tip of his cock at your entrance. He cannot believe how wet you are, your warmth oozing onto his tip. He rubs it against your clit and between your folds, marveling at how perfect it all looked from up above. 

“I’ll fuck you real good, baby.” Jungkook groans. 

Your back arches yet again as Jungkook begins to enter you. He feels the hair on his arms lift as a shudder runs up his spine. A moan slips past parted lips, his mind pondering how anyone could be this tight, but then he has to remember that you don’t do this often. Your body was trying to get comfortable with having something inside of you.

“I knew you’d feel good,” Jungkook whispers, voice hoarse. He’s speaking mainly to himself, but you hear him just the same. 

Jungkook ruts his hips and watches your expression. Your eyes roll while your thighs widen just a bit, a silent plea for more, and it’s exactly what he gives you. He goes deeper, tip reaching places you’ve never felt it before that has your toes curling. Your walls cage him in, practically begging him to never leave.

The couch creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, the rubbery leather molding into your skin. Your breasts pounce with each impact, followed by the satisfied squelching of your pussy.

“-harder,” you breathe, your hands reaching for nothing in particular while your eyes don’t focus on anything. “Please.”

Grunting, Jungkook shakes his head. His hold on your tightens as he presses your knees to your chest. “Greedy girl,” he hisses, but who was he to not give you what you want? He slams into you this, his cock drilling harder and harder like you’ve asked him too. "Look at you, squirming under me." 

Your pussy continues to squelch loudly, offering its own contribution to the lewd sounds. Creaking couch, high-pitched moans, followed by the occasional grunts and skin slapping. 

You were seeing stars now, slipping in and out of your high as your pussy flutters around Jungkook’s ramming cock. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” Jungkook whimpers, lowering himself. His hair tickles your forehead. “I waited so long to feel this pussy around me.”

This is bad, but the rational part of you is hidden deep behind lust and intoxication. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about what you and Jungkook were doing now while your cousins were none the wiser. Maybe it’s that fact that has you tightening around her boyfriend, begging him for more and more until you’re cumming.

Jungkook isn’t done with you yet. After all, you and he had the entire night. He takes a quick break to pop a nipple back into his mouth, his tongue lavishing against the bud possessively.  Then, he turns your body around easily and enters you once more. Your ass from this position looks amazing and with each punishing thrusts, his eyes are fixated on it.

“F-Fuuuck, Kook. Slow-”

“You can take it!” Jungkook hisses.

 Your face is buried into the couch, your back arched allowing the man to do as he pleases to you. Your thighs are coated with sticky arousal that pools out of you with each pump.

“I’m just giving you what you wanted, right?” 

He was, you think, and damn did it feel too good. Each thrust was completely animalistic and focused, claiming you entirely. Jungkook isn’t sure why his mind drifts back to the way you kiss Taehyung so freely, but he does know that the way his hands grip onto your hips possessively and hold you in place that it’s an act that would never happen again.

“Don’t stop, Kook, pl-lease!” you hiccup those encouraging words that have Jungkook going over the edge. “So close~”

“Gonna cum already, baby? That’s not fair, I haven’t came yet.” Jungkook teases. “Pretty pussy dripping all over me.”

“Cum in me then.” you exclaim, your eyes growing glossy with how good it all felt. You can feel the pressure building up in the pits of your stomach again.

“Shit!” Jungkook rasps. One hand lets go of your hips to slam them on the couch right beside your head. He leans down, the other hand having a good grip on your waist as he continues to drill into you. “Pretty girl, are you crying?”

Jungkook is so smug. His lips press against your shoulders, eyes focused on the way the overstimulated tears slide down your cheeks.

“-cumming,” you whisper, eyes squeezing shut and letting out the remainder of the tears. Jungkook groans when your pussy clenches around him as you cum, your body shuddering beneath him. “I’m cumming, too.” he hisses, grinding thrusts pumping in and out rapidly until the final one shoots cum right inside of you. It’s so hot and seemingly endless, his cock pulsing in a way it hasn’t in so long.

part 2 ½

@investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @mar-lo-pap @ami-s-k @marylight098 @ureuphoriasworld @tatamicc @marylight098 @bhonbhon @drwonderbread @borntowalkaway

[trivia-yandere]

when did you get hot? (3)

after the sudden revelation of his 13 year old son, jungkook refuses to let you leave without giving him any answers, no matter how reluctant you are.

word count: 15.004

warning: dirty talking, grinding, smut, cowgirl position, unprotected sex, more yearning jk, finger sucking, edging/orgasm denial, kissing, grinding, nipple sucking, a peak at jimin #1 mc hater, mc is kinda unreasonable but, unprotected sex, creampie,

part one / two

“I don’t think I want to do gymnastics anymore."

The car comes to a stop right in front of your apartment. You slam on the brake so hard that Ji-tae nearly jolts from his seat.

“This again?” you murmur quietly, aggressively putting the car in park. “I’ve already paid for the next few months.”

“Lisa would give you the money back.” your son retorts.

“What’s going on?” you ask. You take your seatbelt off. “You’ve been quiet the entire ride home and now all of a sudden you want to quit?” 

You don’t mean to raise your voice at Ji-tae. It wasn’t him who had you at edge, it was Jungkook. The entire ride home, you had clenched the steering wheel so tightly that you were sure your palms would bleed. Your heart hadn’t stopped beating, either, and all you could think about was the look on Jungkook’s face as the elevator doors closed.

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“Excuse me?” you snicker. You knew sooner or later, Ji-tae would be a teenager. Having a teenager meant dealing with the smart remarks that came with it.

“Nothing.”

When Ji-tae lifts his hand to open his door, you stop him. “We aren’t done talking.” you tell him. “Tell me what’s going on. Do you not enjoy it anymore?”

Ji-tae lowers his hand to his side. He looks at you fully now. “I do.” he says.

“Then why do you keep insisting on quitting?” you question. “I told you I can afford it now.”

Ji-tae swallows. His mind flashes with the older man - obviously your boss - sitting behind the desk. His eyes watching you, and then him.

“Tae…” you trail off. You knew your son enough to know that something was troubling him. 

“Are you sleeping with him?”

The car grows quiet. You’re left stunned - far too stunned to form a sentence right now.

You hadn’t expected that to be your son's question. As your mind races, the pieces slowly begin to work. It explained the look on your son's face when he stared at you, and then to Jungkook. The glare in his eyes…

No parent wants to be in your shoes right now. You feel so small in your son's gaze, one that resemblances Jungkook far too much for you to handle right now.

“You are.” Ji-tae deadpans.

“Tae,” you sigh, closing your eyes. “What-”

“That’s how you’re paying for it, right?” your son interrupts, his voice rising. “That’s how you got this car, too?”

“Tae - Tae!”

You get out of the car just as Ji-tae does. You slam the door behind you, not even bothering to lock it. You follow him right into the apartment. “Stop-”

“If that’s what you have to do to pay for everything then-”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop?!” you hiss at your son, your tone low and full of anger - but not at him. At yourself for putting your son in this position. Ji-tae may be young, yes, but he wasn’t dumb nor naive - especially not how you were when you were his age. He was highly aware of the world he lived in, even if he didn't speak it aloud.

Now, Ji-tae probably saw you differently. 

“I told you to stop worrying about shit that doesn’t concern you!” you continue. Sometimes, you think the way you speak to your son, and the way he responds to you, isn’t that of a mother and son. You could blame that on teen pregnancy.

Ji-tae snickers. “It does concern me. If you’re sleeping with him to pay-”

“Stop.” you hiss, eyes widening at him. “It’s…complicated, Tae…” you take a deep breath. “You’re too young to understand it.” 

You lean against the closed front door and sigh. Jumping into an abyss would be easier than having this conversation with a 13 year old.

“I’m old enough.” Ji-tae retorts. 

You snort. You tilt your head a bit as you peer at your son. You lick your lips, your throat clogging up. 

“I’m old enough to know that you look like you’re about to…cry.” Ji-tae murmurs. His shoulders slump a bit and now he feels remorseful. Maybe he should take your advice and remain his age - a part of him wants to. The other part of him hears his grandmother's words and her condescending tone telling him that you couldn’t afford the luxuries you give him - not without that job. In such a short amount of time, you’ve given him everything he’s asked for and more. You surprised him with a new gaming system, along with the overly expensive gaming chair you’ve remembered him speaking about.

But Ji-tae knows that he’ll gladly give it all aways if it meant you didn’t have to do what he’s suspect you are doing.

“I don’t want you to hate me.” you respond.

Sometimes you felt like it was your son who was the parent. You blame it on you being nothing but a dumb teenager when you had him, forced to grow up entirely too fast that you skipped the pivotal chapters. He was far wiser than anyone you’ve met his age, a trait you knew he hadn’t gotten from you.

“I don’t hate you.” Ji-tae swallows. “I don't want you to be taken advantage of, either.”

“You look just like him, you know? Your eyes were probably clouded with so much animosity that you hadn’t seen it.”

You make your way towards the kitchen. You could go for a drink right now, but you've decided that you’ll have to live with the self-pity for just a bit longer.

Ji-tae hovers in the door frame of said kitchen. He’s silent, replaying what you said in his mind.

“You said you’re old enough, right?” you ask. Ji-tae is eerily silent. “That’s Jungkook. He’s…your father.”

The word father coming from your lips sounds entirely too foreign.

There was a time that Ji-tae had asked about his father. He was only 7, you recall, and older than when you expected him to ask. You thought you prepared yourself for this moment, but even after he has asked you such an innocent question, you were left stunned for longer than you should’ve.

 “You don’t have a dad..” Ji-tae pointed out, his small hand in yours as you and he strolled home from school. It’s an activity he remembers enjoying because it meant you and he could stop for ice cream. It was only when he was older did he realize why you never got yourself any.

You laughed at how blunt children could be. “I do.” you told him. 

“Grandma says he’s in the ground.”

You nodded your head slowly. Your father wasn’t dead, he was just dead to your mother.

“Is my dad in the ground-”

“No!” you quipped. “He’s…just not around right now.”

It was the only explanation you’ve given Ji-tae and even then he took it. He hadn’t asked again, even if you told yourself that if he did, you’d explain it better to him. A part of you wished that you had more time but 6 years was enough time for you to say something to him.

Now, however, Ji-tae isn’t saying anything. He stands in the doorway and peers at you with familiar dark eyes that you weren’t sure you could handle.

“Tae,” you begin. “I didn’t-”

“Grandmother said you didn’t know who he was.”

You roll your eyes, because of course your mother would tell him that. You ponder how long your son sat and thought about you in a certain light.

“I did.” your teeth grits. “And if she was truly paying attention to who I brought in, she’d know, too.” you murmur, more to yourself than to Ji-tae.

 While you were more involved in your son's life - his interests, friends, hobbies and all - your mother gave you the freedom to do whatever. You’re positive she regretted it in the end.

Ji-tae is quiet again, but his eyebrows knit together.

“Whats on your mind?” you ask him. 

“So what?” your son shrugs his shoulders. “Why is he here now? Did he offer you this job out of pity or something?”

“What?” you shake your head. “Tae-”

“He wasn’t around for 13 years, ma. You don’t have to go back and do that-”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your body warms with hot embarrassment at how conscious your son could be. Sometimes, though you’re grateful that he isn’t, you’d wish he’d be like the other boys his age and worry about childish things.

“Tae, stop.” you interrupt. “I don’t want you to,” you swallow, eyes fluttering open to look at your son. Your heart jolts. “hate him.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” your son snorts.

“Because,” 

Ji-tae knows that when you bounce your leg it means that you’re nervous. You always tend to avoid his eyes.

“he didn’t know about you.”

There isn’t any weight lifted from your shoulders like you wished there would be.

“We drifted apart. I got pregnant, and he went to college.” you deadpan. “I never told him about the pregnancy. I never thought I’d see him again.” you admitted. “I didn’t know he’d be who he was today. I didn’t know it was his company I was interviewing for.”

In front of Jungkook, the clouds appear like an ocean full of cotton, the sky a fiery pink and purple. The sun is setting and it glows intensively just outside his window. He watches it from his seat, only blinking when he feels his eyes grow dry.

Jungkook’s mind replays the last 13 years in his mind for any clues he may have not noticed until now. It’s easier to pinpoint when you fell pregnant as it was only one time, but when did you find out? Was it prior to graduation or after?

Ji-tae’s face flashes through his mind. The glaring look that he sends his way is far too obvious that he for one, didn’t know who he was, and for two, held great animosity for him.

Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose and closes his eyes for a bit. It appears that things with you were more complicated than he thought they were.

Just then, Jungkook’s ears perk at the sound of the elevator. “Lei…” he grumbles underneath his breath. “...I have enough surprises.”

Who Jungkook was hoping to see was you. He had gone through several scenarios in how he would approach this.

You were scared, obviously. You didn’t tell him because you yourself were afraid of how he’d react. It’s the reason why, for a while, you kept the pregnancy hidden. There were no records of you giving birth to Ji-tae because they were hidden.

Even if Jungkook was optimistic, there was still the lingering thought in his mind that told him you had hidden the pregnancy for the same reason you decided to ignore him all together. That thought alone plagued his thoughts and feeds on the insecurity he told himself he got rid of years ago.

You weren’t behind the door when Jungkook turns just as they open. Instead, it was Ji-tae again. He doesn’t step inside and the uncertain look on his face tells Jungkook that even he hadn’t thought about what he’d say.

Jungkook peers inside the elevator to find that he’s alone. “Where’s Y/N?” he questions.

“Home.” Ji-tae responds quietly.

Jungkook blinks.

Ji-tae does, as well.

“You can come in.” suggests Jungkook awkwardly. “Does she know you’re here?”

Jungkook’s eyes capture the way Ji-tae runs a hand through his hair before hesitantly walking through the office. Instantly, his eyes soften at the realization that the younger boy knows more than he did when he left.

“No.” Ji-tae responds. “I snuck out.”

Just great, Jungkook thinks. At first, he thought your motherly instinct came natural to you when you interacted with Jinah. Instead, you had 13 years of experience on your belt that gave you a head start. Witnessing the worried expression on your face earlier only told Jungkook that it was a matter of time before you realized your son was gone.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Jungkook rolls his leather seat out and prepares to sit. “She’ll be worried.”

“You don’t have to play the fatherly role.” Ji-tae retorts with a roll of his eyes. In that instinct, he saw you in the boy that resembles him.

Jungkook nods his head gently and says, “Do you want to sit?”

Jungkook motions for the leather seat on the opposite side of his desk. 

“You came all this way for a reason, right? What’s on your mind?”

Ji-tae finds it easier to talk where he’s standing - which is awkwardly by the closed elevator. He doesn’t realize the height Jungkook possesses until he does get closer, or the dark eyes that seem to follow him as he sits down. In that moment, he believes his mother is right about the resemblance he holds to this same man.

Jungkook sits down, as well. His office is far too quiet for his own liking.

“What’s going on between you and my mother?”

Straight to the point, Jungkook notes. Another thing he inherited from you.

“Well,” Jungkook begins. “she works-”

“I know you’re sleeping with her.” Ji-tae interrupts, and that shuts Jungkook right up. “I’m not sure if you gave her this job out of pity or-”

“Pity?” Jungkook is confused now. 

“Yes, pity.” Ji-tae swallows the lump in his throat. “I already told her she doesn’t need to pay for my classes anymore, so you can-”

“I didn’t hire your mother out of pity.” Jungkook interrupts the boy all together with a shake of his head. “I…what did she tell you about me?”

“What she told me is something I’m not sure I believe entirely.” Ji-tae murmurs. 

“And what are you unsure about?” Jungkook leans against the desk.

“If you truly had no idea about me at all.”

Jungkook is taken aback and he visibly winces. Ji-tae bites the inside of his cheek, thinking it’s something he shouldn’t have said.

“As I was walking away she said that,” Ji-tae takes a deep breath. “that you were already accepted at some college and she didn’t want to ruin it.”

Didn’t want to ruin it, Jungkook thinks. His foot begins to tap against the marble floor. His eyes blink a few times.

“Were you two dating?”

Ji-tae knows it isn’t any of his business truly, even if it was the reason why he was alive right now. However, a part of him doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“No. Not really.” Jungkook murmurs. 

“Oh…”

“I loved her.” Jungkook nods his head, leaning back against the chair. He feels exhausted in just a short amount of time. “I would’ve stayed if she told me.”

Ji-tae doesn’t know what to say, but before he has a chance to,  a loud ring sounds throughout the office. Immediately, he knows it’s you calling.

“I guess she found out I’m not home.” Ji-tae sighs, your name flashing on his phone.

“You should answer it. You don’t want to worry her.”

Ji-tae takes a glance at Jungkook. “She’s going to be pissed at me.” he mumbles. “Can you talk to her?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened a bit. A part of his heart softens at the request. The other side knows that you would be just as equally pissed at him as you were with Ji-tae. However, Jungkook nods his head and holds out his hand for the ringing phone.

When he answers, you’re already on the other side demanding where Ji-tae was and why in the world he would leave without letting her know.

“Y/N.” Jungkook speaks into the phone. Ji-tae watches as the yelling stops for a moment, his eyes hopeful. “He’s fine. Maybe we should all talk together.”

Time’s were once simpler, you recall, like the moments you’d sneak out with your own friends. 

It’s something you shouldn’t have done, but your mothers disregard gave you freedom a teenager shouldn’t have and you took advantage of it. 

At times, you could feel it; the wind blowing through your hair whenever you drove with the windows down. When you heard a particular song that you’d once belt at the top of your lungs alongside them. You could taste the cheap alcohol that was either stolen from your parents, or liquor stores. Sometimes both.

The first time you’ve been to Jungkook’s house was one of those nights. The streets were quiet as you stumbled into his backyard, a borrowed  pair of heels in your hand. The look on Jungkook’s face when he saw you at his window. “You shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” you recall him scolding you softly, a hand around your waist to assist you in coming in through his window. “You can’t be too loud, my brother’s room is right across from mine.”

You weren’t sure why you made your way to Jungkook’s house. It felt better than going home alone, you thought, or continuing to do dumb shit with your friends that teenagers had no business doing. You dropped your heels and tilted your head at Jungkook.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” you asked. “Jacking off again?”

The redness on Jungkook’s face is something you always found cute. It’s the reason why you often teased him to no end. You licked your lips, eyes glancing around Jungkook’s bedroom. Far tidier than you’d imagine a teenage boy's room to look. “You’re such a nerd.” you murmured to him upon witnessing a tall shelf with comic books and figurines on it.

“I wouldn’t be able to do your homework if I wasn’t one.” was Jungkook’s response. “I wasn’t jacking off.”

Your eyes turned back to Jungkook, his ears just as red as his cheeks. Maybe it’s the booze in your system that has you giggling uncontrollably, a hand over your lips. You plopped down onto his bed, snuggling yourself into his comforter. “I don’t believe you. Other boys are out and you’re in your room fucking your hand. It’s pathetic.”

You never believed your own words. You found Jungkook interesting, which was the reason you kept returning time and time again. It was more than using the boy to do your assignments and projects. With time, you enjoyed playing with Jungkook - if it was forcing him to smell your panties, sitting into his lap “innocently” to the point you felt an obvious bulge, or even forcing him to speak so demeaning to himself. 

However, it isn’t always that. You did like to hear Jungkook talk about things that he was passionate about. Video games, or certain movies - mainly marvel. He’d sit and explain an entire timeline to you that you actually listened to. It made you realize you didn’t have anything like that yourself that you were passionate about. 

“You’re probably right.” was Jungkook’s response. His eyes focused on the way your skirt rises up, his morality screaming to stop being so perverted. It was obvious you were far too intoxicated.

“You’re such a virgin.” you giggled. “Aren’t you glad I've given you all your firsts so far?”

You lift from Jungkook’s bed to face him. He licks his lips, doe-like eyes widening. His heart was pumping in his chest. “I am glad,” he murmured. 

“Say thank you.” your eyes harden a bit, however your own heart jolts, as well. “I gave you your first kiss, right? Your first handjob, too. You should be more grateful that someone like me pities you enough.”

Again, Jungkook’s body warmed. You were always so quick to remind him everything you’ve done to him, even if it was just a secret you and he shared. How could you tell your friends that you enjoyed playing with Jungkook, someone they deemed beneath them? A loser? 

“T-Thank you.” Jungkook stammered.  

You broke out into a smile. It’s low and a bit sinister, but Jungkook still thinks you’re far too pretty and someone who couldn’t do any wrong. “Have you ever thought about…me fucking you, Kookie?”

It’s easy to notice the growing bulge in Jungkook’s pajama pants. It excites you to no end.

Jungkook’s heart thumped even louder because yes, he absolutely had thought about it. He didn’t know what sex felt like yet, but he imagined - with you - it would be something incredible. 

“Yes.” Jungkook murmured.

You laughed.

Your laugh is just as demeaning as your tone always was.

“You’re such a pervert.” you quip. “Say it.”

“I’m a pervert.” Jungkook mumbled. From across the hall, he hears his brother’s tv sounds.

You laughed again. You were too buzzed to handle Jungkook and his submission. 

“You’d do whatever I tell you to, huh?” you tease, a grin on your lips. “I should stop being so mean to you, right?”

Jungkook wasn’t sure where the sudden change in your demeanor went. It happened fast, your teasing and soft eyes, to something more serious. He didn’t have the chance to question you on it before you return back to what you once were. “Take your pants off.”

“W-Why?”

“Just do it.” you shrugged your shoulders.

Jungkook had a lot of memories of you and he drawn into his memories. This moment, watching the way you hike up your skirt to remove your own panties and toss them aside, was one of many. He recalls the way he does as he’s told easily, his cock hardened at just the mere sight of you.

Jungkook remembers the way his bed creaks when you push him onto it and get on top of him, your thighs caging him between you. You sit directly on him, your clit grinding against his shaft. This was the closest he’s ever been to having sex, and he wasn’t even inside of you - that didn’t make it any less exciting for him.

“You don’t have to do this.” was what you hadn’t expected to hear from him - or any teenage boy. “You’re drunk, right?”

You recall the way your nails dig into his shoulders and how wide your eyes got. Your heart had jolted once more, but you were always left confused whenever Jungkook showed signs of genuine concern for you. 

“I’m not drunk.” you murmured to him. It wasn’t a complete lie, you were buzzed, yes, but not completely incoherent. “Maybe I feel sorry for you being all alone.”

It was you who felt lonely after far too many drinks, your mind clouded with the very boy beneath you.

 You press yourself firmly against him. “I left my friends to come here.”

You lied and told them you had to go home.

“Aren’t you happy?”

You didn’t know how you'd act if Jungkook had rejected you fully at that moment. 

Jungkook doesn’t. He tells you that he is happy - and it was genuine. He’s happy that you chose him out of anyone to do this with, even if his cock wasn’t inside you. Feeling your pussy, warm, wet and dripping all over him, was enough.

You weren’t quiet in the slightest, however, no matter how hard Jungkook pleaded with you with fluttering eyes. You were in bliss yourself, your hips rutting, slippery pussy gliding against his hard cock. Your hands tug at his own to touch you anywhere, stating that he should be grateful you were here with him right now.

“I think I’m going to cum-”

Jungkook didn’t mean to slam his hand against your lips, he just didn’t need anyone waking up and hearing you right now. 

What Jungkook didn’t expect was your tongue to wrap around his fingers and suckle onto them, blurry eyes staring right at him. He cums, it’s hard and fast and sticks all over you, but you don’t care because you cum right along with him.

You share many memories with Jungkook, even if your situation with him only lasts a school year. That was the first time he had told you about his college entrance exams, stating that the very next morning he had to take them. You recalled the way he calls you a good luck charm when he places an arm around your waist and holds you close to him, the intimacy frightening you to no end.

Jungkook recalls the way you were gone by the time he woke up the following morning as if a fragment of his own imagination.

Now, Jungkook watches the way his son - it was weird to even think about - eyes stare at the large estate as he drives through the gates. 

Ji-tae doesn’t say anything. He hadn’t said much the entire ride there. Your car is already waiting for them as they arrive and once Jungkook pulls in, you’re already getting out of the car.

“You live here?” Ji-tae murmurs as Jungkook puts the car in park. A part of him isn’t ready to face you.

“Yes.” Jungkook responds. “Are you hungry? Dinner should be served soon.”

Ji-tae furrows his brows. “You have a cook?”

“Only sometimes.” Jungkook admits. “There was no time for me to cook today.” he trails off, because it was obvious. He had to find someone else to pick up Jinah entirely instead of you like she’s used to.

You have to admit seeing Jungkook and Ji-tae together does something to your heart. You didn’t want to face the reality of it all, however, especially when Jungkook draws nearer. “He’s hungry.”

“He always is.” you glance at Ji-tae, who adverts his eyes as soon as you look at him. “I was just about to start cooking until I realized you were gone.”

“We need to talk.”

“I should take Ji-tae-”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” Jungkook interrupts. 

You take a deep breath. “I’m taking my son-”

“Your son?!” Jungkook scoffs at your choice of words.

You swallow. “Get in the car, Tae.” your words grit out. “Jungkook, I’ll-”

“He’s hungry.” Jungkook hisses, his eyes glaring towards you. 

Ji-tae has never been in a parental dispute before. In just a short amount of time, he realized he had a father.

 No, his father wasn’t dead. 

Yes, his mother knew exactly who he was.

And he was right in the middle of it all.

“Let him eat.” Jungkook continues. “You and I need to talk.”

There wasn’t any getting out of this, you note. Jungkook’s eyes are hard and staring right through you. 

“Fine.” you quip. 

Sitting across from a child that looked just like him wasn’t on Ji-tae’s itinerary.

Jeon Jinah stares at Ji-tae just as he stares right back at her. His stomach rumbles when he smells the food that the older man - a chef - places right in front of them. 

Jinah watches curiously as the older boy eats as if he hadn’t in days. It reminds her of when her dad eats, shoving food down faster than he could chew. It makes her laugh but just a bit and she follows his lead, shoving food into her own mouth just as aggressively.

“That’s it?” Jungkook scoffs. “That’s all you have to say to me? It is what it is?”

Jungkook’s office is the furthest from the dining area that would grant them such privacy.

“You kept my son-”

“You have no proof that he’s yours.” you deadpan, only because you had no actual argument.

“Can you be serious for once, Y/N?” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You’re actually so fucking selfish.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes glaring daggers at him. “I’m selfish?” you spit.

“Yeeesss!” Jungkook hisses. “What the fuck have I done to you?”

You snicker. “I don’t have time for this.” you wave Jungkook off. You were only willing to talk because it was evident Jungkook wasn’t going to let you leave - and you didn’t want to cause a scene with Ji-tae watching and Jinah close.

Your hands grasp the doorknob to get out of this entirely, but from behind you Jungkook slams it shut. “You’re good for that, aren’t you?” he hisses.

“Fuck off, Kook.” you push yourself away from him. 

“No.” Jungkook steps closer to you. “That’s all you do, Y/N. You keep running. How long are you going to run until you’re out of breath?”

“When are you going to get out of the past?” you question. “You’ve forced me-”

Jungkook laughs in disbelief. “I didn’t force you to do anything.”

“No?” It was your turn to laugh. “Was it not you claiming that you wouldn’t let me leave?”

“You’re changing the subject. That isn’t the point and you know it.” Jungkook barks. “Why are you choosing to ignore the elephant in the room? The elephant being a 13 year old child. My child.”

You cross your arms over your chest. You didn’t have an answer. At least not the right one Jungkook would be looking for. Your body is hot and you were in fight or flight mode - and he knows exactly which mode you’ll rather be taking now. 

“It is,” your eyes look at Jungkook’s once more. “what it is.” 

Jungkook takes a deep breath. His throat makes a noise - a snicker of disbelief. He blinks a few times. He recalls the one and only time he’s ever put a hand on a woman and it was Jinah’s mother - for good reason, he always tells himself. But now, he finds that he wants to do the same to you. He doesn’t, but the thought flickers in his mind. 

“Did you hate me that much?” 

Your hard demeanor crumbles at Jungkook’s words. Even more at the crack in his voice at the end of his question. You don’t look at him anymore, and instantly Jungkook notices. 

“You did.” Jungkook licks his lips. “Whatever animosity you felt towards me, Y/N, you didn’t have to take it out on him.” 

“I didn’t take anything out on Ji-tae!” you hiss, uncrossing your arms. 

“You did!” Jungkook barks back. “You denied him a father, have you not?” 

The way you flinch has Jungkook taking a step back. He swallows the lump in his throat. He has to calm himself down, he thinks. 

“For once, can you just think about how I feel?” Jungkook questions. “To have him look at me the way he did. With such animosity. He thought you were lying to him.” 

You turn away from Jungkook. The study is large with books lining the wall. A studded leather seat sits behind a desk that looks obsessively organized. You don’t care about the study or the desk, you just don’t want Jungkook to look at you right now. Your eyes were beginning to burn and it was you that now appeared utterly pathetic. 

“About…what?” you murmur. 

“About not knowing he existed.” Jungkook grits his teeth. “He thought I abandoned him, Y/N. That now I pity you and-“

“I told him the truth!” you exclaim, still your back turned away from him. “I…I don’t want him to hate you.”

“Too late for that.” Jungkook scoffs. “I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t believe it, either. It still hurts.”

You squeeze your eyes close. You didn’t want to be here anymore and have to face the consequences of your actions. Jungkook was right to feel how he does. You should have told him about your pregnancy. You should have explained it all to him - your feelings, no matter how confused you were about them, your reasoning for leaving him alone entirely. All of it.

And not even just Jungkook, but Ji-tae. You had taken a father away from him. Even if you told yourself you were doing the right thing, it didn’t mean that it was the right thing. There’s a part of Ji-tae that he’s missed out on for so long that he’s told you himself he doesn’t want if it meant hurting you. 

“I didn’t hate you.” you murmur, so low and defeated. 

“You sure?” Jungkook snickers. You haven’t turned around yet. “Could have fooled me. You know…I told you about Jinah,” he begins. “about how she needed a woman in her life. Why didn’t you tell me then? You didn’t think Ji-tae needed a father in his life?”

“Of course I did.” 

Your throat begins to ache and before you know it, you feel your cheeks wet. You were crying, something you didn’t want - not in front of Jungkook. 

“Maybe I wasn’t the father you thought he needed.” 

Jungkook speaks so certainly. He’s doing what he always does when it comes to you. He gets further into his head, his own insecurities speaking louder than you are. 

“What?” You wipe your own eyes and sniffle a bit. “What the fuck are you on about now, Kook?”

“Well what else could it be?” Jungkook exclaims. “You made your choice 13 years ago. You ghosted me and took Ji-tae with you.”

“That’s not true.” you turn around, eyes glossy and red. 

“Then tell me what the fuck is the truth?!”  Jungkook is taken aback by your appearance. Glossy eyes, trembling lips. He realized he’s never seen you cry before - or look this vulnerable. “I followed you around because I was pathetic, right? I did your homework and all assignments.”

“Stop.” you hiss, but he doesn’t.

“I did whatever you told me to do. I touched myself in front of you because you told me to. I smelt your panties because you told me to.” 

Jungkook is now a few inches away from you. He’s angered, similar to the way he was in his office hours ago. 

“I told you I loved you.” Jungkook murmurs. “And still I wasn't good enough for you.”

You push past Jungkook, feeling the familiar ache in your throat. You’re at his office door again - you couldn’t deal with this. Not now.

“There you go again.” Jungkook is behind you just as you peel the door open. “Running away from your problems.”

You don’t make it far out the door before Jungkook is grasping your bicep and yanking you back. 

“Be honest for once, Y/N. Say it.” Jungkook forces you to face him. “Tell me how pathetic I am, again. Isn’t that why you left me? You’ll rather have Ji-tae grow up without a father than for me to be that.”

You push at Jungkook’s chest as hard as you could. His grip on your bicep disappears, but you can still feel his fingers on you. 

“Don’t you think I did it because of you?!” you hiss, pushing him again. 

“Because of me?!” Jungkook’s eyes widened at your audacity. 

“Yes, you!” you bellow. You don’t mean to. The door is wide open now and you’re positive Ji-tae and Jinah could hear. “I didn’t have what you did. I wasn’t accepted anywhere like you!” 

You push him again, but this time Jungkook doesn’t attempt to dodge your attack. 

“I didn’t have parents that cared about me like you did. Do you really think you’ll be where you are now if I would have told you?” 

Jungkook watches the way you cry once more. That was twice in just a short amount of time. You’ve stopped pushing him and instead sob just a bit. 

Now, Jungkook feels terrible. His words replay in his mind and he comes to the actuality of your words. You did it for him. 

“Y/N…”

Your sobbing stops. You peer, through blurred eyes, the look that Jungkook gives you. Instantly, it angers you. You hated being pitied.

“Shut up and don’t look at me!” you hiss.

“Don’t do that.” Jungkook shakes his head with a sigh. “Don’t shut me out again.”

Jungkook wants to reach out and touch you, but he’s afraid that you’d attack him for real this time. 

“Do you really think,” you wipe at your eyes bitterly. “that your parents would’ve allowed you to give everything you worked for…for me?” you scoff. “A slut who got herself pregnant-“

“I got you pregnant.” Jungkook interrupts. “Stop blaming yourself, Y/N. You didn’t do anything by yourself. I loved you more than going to fucking college.”

You scoff and shake your head. “You don’t get it, Kook. Do you really think I wanted you to do that?”

Before Jungkook has the chance to get further into his own head and jump through conclusions, you continue. 

“Do you really think I wanted you to give up everything you worked hard for? For me? 

Watching Jungkok with his family, from afar, was enough for you to come to the conclusion that you’d keep this pregnancy to yourself; at least for now. Even now, you recall the way your stomach sunk at the look on Jungkook’s face. He’s holding up his diploma as he takes pictures alongside his parents. There’s several medals around his neck and even an award in his hand.

Jungkook wasn’t like you - you thought it right there. Jungkook had two parents that loved him. He had parents that were proud of him. His own mother had tears in her own eyes as she stared at her son so lovingly.

Proudly.

“Cheer up!” Ava exclaimed, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. She shakes you a bit. She doesn’t know about your pregnancy, nor does she know just who you’re staring at. “We actually passed!”

“Thanks to Jungkook.” Lia giggled on the other side of you. “College is going to be hard without him. We sure as hell ain't going where he is.” 

You felt your stomach churn at the mention of Jungkook. To your friends, he was nothing but a nerd you used to get what you wanted out of him, and in a way he was. However, you hadn’t told them how your heart felt whenever you were around him. You hadn’t told them how funny Jungkook actually was, and smarter than he even shows. 

Your friends didn’t know about you sneaking away from them to visit Jungkook in his bedroom. How your heart felt as he held you all night - how you wished you’d stay but forced yourself to leave even before the sun came up. 

Your friends didn’t know that you preferred the company of Jungkook over theirs. 

“Yeah.” you murmur. “We aren’t.”

Now, Jungkook stares at you. You’re breathing so heavily and for the first time, you actually feel like just a bit of weight is coming off of your shoulders.

“Look at everything you’ve accomplished.” you wave your hand around at the estate - at everything, truly. “The business. The success. Do you really think you’d have it if you hadn’t left?”

The question has Jungkook stunned. He’s silent, pondering on it. Would he, he thinks, have it all? You were the main cause of his success. You leaving him gave him the drive he needed to be where he was today. It was an action he took to prove to you that he was worthy, even if he never saw you again. 

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, his heart jumping in his chest. 

“No, right?” you run a hand over your hair, chuckling a bit. Bitterly. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have cared, either.” Jungkook responds. “I would have been fine going to community college. Or nowhere at all if it meant I could have stayed with you.”

You feel that ping in your chest again. It’s the same feeling you felt all those years ago while in Jungkook’s room. The way he looked in your eyes and told you that you didn’t have to do this. It’s a feeling you’ve never felt until that moment, you recall. The softness in his voice and the genuine look in his eye. 

“Jinah wouldn’t be here.” you mumble. Jungkook wasn't getting it, you think, or at least not in the way you need him to. 

Jungkook is silent once more. 

Jinah.

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook feels that wave of exhaustion flows through him once more. 

“Stay here tonight.” Jungkook pleads. “And don’t leave this time.”

You knit your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You always leave. Everytime.” Jungkook murmurs. “Like you did the first time. In my bedroom. You leave before we have the chance to actually talk.”

You bite your lip. Now wasn’t the time for you to bottle your emotions and mask them underneath slick remarks. 

“I want us to talk when we’re both level headed. Right now…let’s just eat. As a family.”

Jungkook steps out into the hallway and presses a hand onto your shoulder. He peers down at you, tilting his head just a bit. His eyes are curious. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He wants to ask everything - how was your pregnancy? How did you find out it was a boy? Did you have him naturally? Jungkook couldn’t imagine how you felt in labor, alone without him there to comfort you.

Jungkook’s lips are warm against your head. Your shoulders slump a bit, a sudden calmness overcoming you.

Ji-tae watches from the corner. Jinah is behind him. She’s confused, maybe even a bit upset at how irate her father appeared. She looks up at him with similarly dark eyes, her clothes ruined by attempting to keep up with him in eating.

“Are they fighting?” Jinah whispers. 

“We gotta go sit down.” was Ji-tae’s response just as Jungkook lifts his lips from your forehead. “I bet you can’t beat me to the table.”

Jinah instantly forgets the yelling just down the hall and runs as fast as her legs could bring her. Ji-tae glances back at you - the sight of you and Jungkook. His mind races with questions that he himself wishes he had the answers to. Instead, he turns on his feels and strolls after Jinah, assuring she got to the table right before he had. 

Jinah talks - and talks, and talks. It makes the dinner table feel a bit less awkward. Her main fascination now was Ji-tae - the new boy who was older, but not yet a man like her father. She asked question after question and it’s Jungkook who’s impressed by how patient he was. He answers all of her questions while Jinah sits with dirtied designer clothes and stained cheeks.

You’re a bit amused - and maybe even a little content - with watching Jinah and Ji-tae, even if she doesn’t fully comprehend who he is just yet. She invites him to her ballet recital, stating that he could sit front row alongside you and her dad. At first she was disappointed with hearing “I’ll try”, but it subsides when Ji-tae tells her it would depend if he was done with his gymnastic meets. As if on queue, her - and Jungkook’s - ears perk. The younger girl goes on and on without taking as much as a breath in how she too takes gymnastics - how she flips and always lands on her feet; unlike the other girls her age.

“Can I go?!” Jinah then turns to Jungkook - because she always did. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t get out of him, her matching eyes staring longingly at him until he eventually gave in.

“I don’t think-” was all Jungkook could get out before her eyes began to water rather dramatically. Jinah knew that her father was leading up to a no, and a young girl with a closet just for her dolls, designer clothing and a tea set imported from Europe wasn’t accustomed to anything that wasn’t yes.

“You can come.” Ji-tae speaks up. “On one condition.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief when Jinahs eyes - that coincidently appears dry now - turns to Ji-tae.

“Con..di..shon.” Jinah squints her eyes. She doesn’t know what that means.

“Condition. Like…a promise.” Ji-tae takes another bite of the steak. It happened to be his second plate right when you and Jungkook arrived. “When I come in first place, you cheer louder than everyone there.”

It’s you that rolls your eyes - Ji-tae was always competitive, a trait he didn’t get from you as you couldn’t care less about coming on top. “It’s a local competition, so she won’t be kicked out.”

You learned the hard way when Ji-tae was 10. To think of the amount of money you spent leading up to the competition, you’d be able to cheer.

Jungkook watches the way Jinah lifts her pinky as if she was signing a contract. He glances your way to find you’re already looking at him and he thinks maybe things are going to be alright  - at least in this moment.

Currently, Ji-tae lays in the large bed in Jungkook’s home. He’s wearing headphones, his eyes staring right on the ceiling. His mind is clouded a bit, drifting to everything that he’s learned all in one day. He thinks of your and Jungkook’s conversation that you hadn’t known he was listening to, how you stated you didn’t have the things Jungkook had. He thinks of the pictures that were lining the living room walls of Jinah in different stages - gymnastics, ballet, her first days of pre-school and kindergarten.

Ji-tae even notices other pictures of families, but his eyes don't linger on them for longer than he needed to.

Ji-tae stirs when the dim room begins to brighten. He removes the headphones from around him and lifts up from his laying position to look towards the door. 

Jinah’s so small as she peers in. She opens it more once she realizes that Ji-tae is already up.

She’s holding something in her hands when she comes deeper in. Ji-tae sets the headphones beside him and goes towards the lamp on the end table and turns it on.

“Ice cream.” Jinah murmurs quietly as this was one of her biggest secrets once her father went to bed. She’s none the wiser about the cameras in the home, nor does Jungkook ever scold her about her late night ice cream adventures.

Ji-tae is amused when Jinah holds out the ice-cream for him. It’s wrapped in white wrapping and instantly, he knows it’s a drumstick. He takes it from her small hands. “Thanks.” he whispers to her. 

Jinah settles onto the bed, her legs crossed as she messily opens the ice cream, a few of the roasted peanuts falling onto her pajamas and onto the bed.

You sit on Jungkook’s bed, your eyes lingering on his back. It flexes each time he moves his arms as he dries his hair. You had showered after dinner when he was getting Jinah ready for bed, and as he did, you had spoken to Ji-tae about spending the night, assuring that in the morning you’d get him a change of clothes and her gym bag. 

“I think he hates me.”

Jungkook turns around to face you. You’re already watching him. He thinks you look cute when you wear his clothing, now only being in an oversize shirt as you didn’t have any of your own clothes here.

“Ji-tae doesn’t hate you.” you say to him. “Why do you feel that way?”

Jungkook strolls towards the right of the room and back towards the bathroom. He hands his towel to dry before returning. “I don’t know, really.” he admits. “I might just be projecting. I mean…I’d hate me if I was him.”

“Come here.” you gesture for Jungkook to take a seat besides you. He’s only wearing underwear, prepared for bed. You want to do just that, but you also know Jungkook wouldn’t be able to sleep if his mind was so hell-bent on telling him he was hated by a 13 year old.

Jungkook does. You face him as he sits down, your eyes take in his face, to his bare chest.

You take a deep breath. For a moment, you are both silent. Jungkook knits his brows a bit - it looks like you want to say something, but it appears to be troubling you. There’s a slight grimace on your face.

“I’m sorry.” you mumble.

Jungkook blinks.

Then, Jungkook blinks again. He blinks a total of five times.

 His eyebrows soften. “That took a lot out of you, huh?” he snickers, his lips twitching.

The snarky side of you would’ve snapped at him by now, something that wouldn’t have offended him entirely because he loves it, but you note that it wasn’t the time for that. Jungkook, after having some time to think over your words, had calmed down from earlier.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” you ask. “You didn’t do anything.”

Unless you count the way he spoke to you after not seeing you for 13 years. Or how unprofessional the relationship you and he had as boss and “assistant”. The list could go on - how he talked about you to his closest friends that he met in college, said friends that now despise you without even truly knowing you. How he had resentment towards you that caused him to take it out on every woman afterwards.

It isn’t Jungkook’s proudest moments.

“You had to go through it all alone, right?” Jungkook questions. “I can be upset with you for how things happened, but I can also try to put myself in your shoes.”

You hated being sentimental. It was a weird feeling - different than the sexual tension that Jungkook fucked out of you. That was easier than sitting here right now underneath his gaze. Your throat begins to ache and your heart does the annoying jolting again.

“I would’ve stayed.” Jungkook repeats his words from earlier.

“That would’ve been dumb.” you snort, glancing away from him to further avoid his gaze. “You would’ve stayed with the bitch that used you?”

Your foot begins to bounce slightly.

“You were too kind, Kook.” you say. “You let me use you and-”

“Was I not a willing participant?” Jungkook interrupts you. He leans closer to you, reaching out to gently poke your cheek. “You speak as if you took advantage of me, Y/N. I did your homework because I wanted to. I skipped classes because I wanted to.”

When you finally turn back towards Jungkook, you find that his own eyes are already waiting for you.

You exhale. “I thought you would’ve found a girlfriend in college.” you attempt to change the subject. “Someone nice.”

“I did.” Jungkook replies.

You furrow your brows. “Oh?” you ask. You’re unsure how to feel - even if you know you don’t deserve to feel anything at all. 

Jungkook tilts his head. “Didn’t work out.” he murmurs. 

You swallow. “Why not?”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “She was too nice.” he responds. “Isn’t that fucked up? It didn’t work out because she was too nice?” he snorts. “I was an asshole in college. I’ve built up resentment towards you without even realizing that I was trying to find you in every woman I involved myself with. Too nice, not nice when it mattered, too submissive. I was just never satisfied.”

Again, you feel it. This time, it’s a feeling you’ve felt before when Jungkook, as teenagers, stated that he didn’t talk to other girls; something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“What about you? Have you dated anyone?”

“Y-Yeah.” you nod. “Not long. Only one guy.”

“What happened?” Jungkook doesn’t want to think about someone else having you.

“Stole from me.” you reply quickly. “Called me a crazy bitch on his way out. Stealing from me meant he was also stealing from Ji-tae. After that, I realized I didn’t have time to date. I stopped.” You shrugged your shoulders just as he did. “It’s always just been Ji-tae and I.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He tries to imagine what you’d look like pregnant, even as young as you were. What you’d look like holding a young boy's hands and navigating the world when you yourself were so young.

“This has to be a lot to take in at such a young age.”

You nod your head in agreement. You want to talk to Ji-tae again in the morning. He’s punctual and waking up in a new environment would surely throw off his routine, but Jungkook does have a home gym you were sure he didn’t mind him using. 

You hum to yourself, your mind drifting a bit before Jungkook speaks again.

“I want him to talk to a therapist.” 

You blink.

“I know someone. He’s a friend of mine,” Jungkook begins. “from college. He’s the best in the city, too. I think it’ll be good for all of us.”

You find yourself inhaling again. “I think so, too.” you agree. “Hopefully whatever we say is confidential.” you tease - only a bit, because you did want some form of privacy if you were going to be speaking to a therapist.

Jungkook snorts. “Joon’s professional.” he assures. “He takes his job and license seriously. Plus, he’s a genuine friend of mine. He’s one of the few that doesn’t hate you.”

Jungkook stiffens a bit when he realizes he’s said too much. He watches your expression change for a moment, before it flickers back to the more stoic one he remembers.

“I mean-”

“I know what you mean.” you interrupt. “So…how much of a bitch did you tell them I was to you?”

You’re staring so intently at him, but you appear so calm. Jungkook doesn’t know if you’re upset with him, or toying with him like you enjoy doing.

“Did you tell them how obsessed you were with me?” you murmur. It’s right then that Jungkook sees it, that twinkle in your eyes. “I bet they tried hooking you up with girls, right?”

You adjust yourself to turn fully towards Jungkook, his oversize shirt hiking up your thighs just a bit to offer him a peak of what's beneath it - which isn’t anything at all. His shoulders relax just a bit, his eyes blinking away from your smooth thighs back to your eyes.

Softly, Jungkook nods his head.

Your lips curl upwards just a bit and it excites him. He feels a shudder run up his spine, the hair on his arm rising as goosebumps break out.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

You move fast - or maybe Jungkook just doesn’t care to react. You climb right into his lap, sitting directly against his clothed crotch and he immediately wants to remove his underwear to feel you fully. 

Your hands settle on his chest a bit, your eyes watching the way your fingers trace along the tattoo on his chest. You tilt your head just a bit just as Jungkook’s hands settle onto your waist.

“Did you tell them the wicked bitch from your past return? Or am I a secret?”

Jungkook doesn’t intend to hide the truth from you. “Secret.” he responds. He knows his friends. You haven’t been a topic to them for years now, but when you were they didn’t have anything nice to say. Namjoon, like he stated, was neutral. He attempted to see things from your point of view, even if he didn’t have it. He came up with his own conclusions to not fully demonize you, a teenage girl.

Jimin, however, couldn’t be convinced. Upon immediately meeting Jungkook, the shy freshman with soft eyes that kept to himself, he thought of you as a lion that preyed on a lamb. His attempts in meeting different girls in college had gone down the drain, but it didn’t mean he ever stopped. He was ecstatic in knowing that Jungkook had a child on the way and prayed that it would work out with Jinah’s mother.

It didn’t.

However, Jimin wasn’t one to quit.

Hoseok was uninterested in you, but brought you up the most as the years dragged on. He couldn’t understand how one girl could have his friend act in such a way.

“How would they react if you told them?”

Your fingers tap upwards to his collarbone, to his neck.

“I bet they were hoping you’d get over me, too.”

“They’ll get over it.” Jungkook grabs your hand into his own. He brings it to his lips to press soft kisses onto your fingertips. “They have to, right? You aren’t going anywhere.”

It’s a settled statement, not a question in sight. He’s telling you directly as calmly as he could. 

“What was your pregnancy like?”

You blink.

Jungkook watches the way your expression shifts, your eyebrows knitting together. “My…pregnancy?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods curtly. “Did it go easily?”

The shift in conversation takes you by surprise, but you try not to dwell on it. “Um,” your mind races in order to think back to your pregnancy years ago. “I remember being exhausted. All Tae did was kick nonstop.”

Jungkook wants to envision it; you pregnant, your stomach forming as the months go on. The more he thinks of it, the sadder he gets - as pathetic it sounds - to not experience it alongside you.

“I was always hungry. I thought I’d get these weird cravings, you know?” you tell him and Jungkook listens intently, intrigued by it all while you sit in his lap. “But I didn’t. I would eat while walking around the house because that seemed to calm him down a bit.”

“Did you want a boy?”

Jungkook’s question brings you back to that time all those years ago. It reminds you of how lonely you felt without your friends - without him. All of your doctor visits were held in the next town over to assure - as your mother requested - you wouldn’t be seen by anyone she knew. Almost rarely did she attend with you.

It was moments like that, you sitting alone in the small space, that you ask yourself what it would’ve been like if you had told Jungkook. Or anyone else. 

You stare with squinting eyes at the screen, your heart jolts against your chest at how weird it felt to see the fetus right inside of you. 

You pondered if she was judging you, someone so young and without anyone to accompany her. She was nice, you recall, always smiled at you and even asked if you wanted to know the gender at a different appointment.

You hadn’t thought about the gender much -  not until that day. At your uncertainty, she had given you an envelope and it takes you exactly 2 weeks to open it. 

You weren’t sure exactly what you were afraid of - you were doing this regardless. Did you want a girl? That would be easier seeing as you yourself were one. You knew what it was like to be a girl living in this world. You knew how the world operated - for the most part - and you could teach her things your mother hadn’t taught you. You could show her the affection you wished you had, even right at that moment.

You remember the way you cried upon opening the envelope and reading “It’s a boy!” written neatly on it. You weren’t sure why you were crying. You hadn’t cried in months, but yet there you sat in your own bedroom, bawling at the thought of raising a boy all on your own.

“Yeah. I did.” you answer Jungkook truthfully. “I cried,” you snorted to yourself. “but then…I was happy. It’s just been Ji-tae and I ever since. We grew up together.”

Jungkook smiles at that. His fingers tap along your waist as he thinks about you and Ji-tae - you holding his smaller hands in yours. You holding him to your chest, him learning how to walk and talk similar to how he and Jinah were.

“I know what I did wasn’t right.”

You lean closer to Jungkook until your forehead touches his and your nose glides against one another. Jungkook’s heart races at how close you and he are. It appeared that no matter how many times he’s had you, you always had the ability to make his heart race as if he was the same teenage boy from his youth.

“But…” you murmur. Your lips are nearly touching his. “...I don’t want you to hate me.”

In that moment, Jungkook feels you shift in his lap and press yourself against his (embarrassingly hard) cock. It’s easier to feel you as you weren’t wearing anything underneath his shirt.

“I don’t hate you.” Jungkook answers almost instantly, his lips parting a bit. “You know I don’t.”

“Hm,” your hands trail teasingly behind his neck, and when you do so Jungkook has no choice but to shudder. “I know.”

Your lips capture his and he takes it all in needily. Instantly, his hold onto your waist tightens as you  kiss him, growing more lewd by the second. 

Your fingers trail into his hair, lightly tugging at them as Jungkook’s hands slide upwards and underneath the shirt to touch your soft skin. His tongue suckles onto yours, moaning into your mouth helplessly.

“Where do we go from here?” you say against his lips. Your body feels so hot and Jungkook’s hands on you doesn’t help.

“Where do you want it to go?” murmurs Jungkook in response. 

There’s another light tug on Jungkook’s hair, one that feels good to the touch. Maybe because you were the one doing it.

“I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

Jungkook inhales your scent. It’s clean and simple, nothing too dramatic. He can feel his cock twitch to be free from its barrier and feel you. His hands slide up your sides until they’re right underneath your breast.

“I don’t want you to go.” Jungkook says, pecking your lips, then sending kisses down your jaw. “I want you both here with me and Jinah.” 

You hum, deciding to deepen the kiss once more. Jungkooks’s hands tighten their grip on you, sliding up until they’re gripping your breast entirely. Your nipples hard instantly and you couldn’t help but groan into his mouth.

“You aren’t making it easier for me.” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I think you know what you’re doing.”

You’re amused. “What am I doing exactly?” you ask, but you know the teasing tone in your voice followed by the way you slightly grind against him that it’s obvious. 

“That,” Jungkook sighs. “you’re torturing me, right now. You always liked doing that.”

You did. As much as you enjoyed doing it, Jungkook enjoyed being on the receiving end of it. His thumbs press against your hardened nipples, twirling them slowly, his dark eyes watching you. 

“You’re supposed to be madder at me right now.” you voice. Leaning away from Jungkook, he immediately misses your warmth, but his hands settle on your waist. “You’re too forgiven.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. For a moment, he watches you. It’s hard being upset with you when you’re already in his lap and he can feel just how wet you are, even through his underwear. It makes it harder when he does hear things from your point of view, something Namjoon had insisted he do plenty of times before, even when he didn’t have it. While he went years building resentment for you while simultaneously trying to find you in every woman he sought out, you were raising a child on your own.

Jungkook isn’t sure what he thought your life would be, truly. He assumed you’ve gone to college elsewhere and found someone else as weak as him. He assumed you used your abilities to get yourself somewhere far, far away from it all.

“You’re thinking too hard again.” 

Your voice brings him back to reality. He blinks once, then twice.

“I am mad.” Jungkook murmurs. 

“Oh?” you tilt your head, peering down at him.

Jungkook feels his heart jolt.

“I’m mad you didn’t tell me, but you already knew that.” Jungkook continues. “I’m mad you did it all alone.”

“And what else?”

Jungkook isn’t sure what you’re doing by asking him this. What more did you want to hear from him? As long as he’s known you, there has to be some way for you to further toy with him. He’s sure of it when you grasp the end of his shirt and pull it over your head, removing the last piece of clothing until you’re fully naked on top of him.

“I’m mad you m-made me waste unnecessary time.”

“Did I?” you snicker, more amused by the slight stutter in his words. Your fingers tap along Jungkook’s chest, dipping lower and lower. “Maybe you should blame yourself, too. I couldn’t have been hard to find, right?”

You don’t blame Jungkook in the slightest and you were truly just talking for the sake of it. 

When you read his abdomen, Jungkook can feel his cock flinch desperately. 

“I wanted to.” Jungkook admits, a tint on his cheeks. “Jimin told me not to.”

“Jimin…” you say his name far too sweet for Jungkook’s liking. “...a friend of yours?”

Jungkook nods. 

“What does he think about me?”

Your fingers are now at the band of his underwear, the calvin klein lettering looking back up at you. 

“Jimin…holds grudges…” Jungkook licks his lips. “But he doesn’t know you, just-”

“Knows what you told him?” you finish the sentence. “I’m fine with that.”

Your fingers dig into his underwear and right as you lift yourself off of him, you peel them down. Embarrassingly, Jungkook’s cock shoots up, tip red and angry. 

Swallow, Jungkook murmurs, “I thought about you a lot. But…”

You allow Jungkook to speak. His underwear stops at his knees and he wiggles them off until he’s fully free of them.

“...I still resented you. Hoseok didn’t make it any better.”

You allow Jungkook to speak, grasping his cock in your palm and centering it at your entrance. You watch his face entirely.

“He told me to take my frustration from you out on other girls.”

Jungkook’s lips part, letting out a sharp breath when he feels the tip slide between your lips. So wet and warm, fully engulfing him entirely. 

“Go on.” you encourage, your tone strangely sweet that Jungkook does. “I tried. I told you the relationship didn't work out.” Jungkook murmurs. “Every hookup, all I could think about was you.”

There it was, Jungkook thinks, the twinkle in your eyes as he speaks. He thinks his words are fueling your own ego. Your walls squeeze around the tip immediately as you enter it and Jungkook shudders.

“Tell me more.”

And Jungkook does. He says it all - how he resented you for making him feel that way. How even after years away from you, all he could think about was the way you made him feel. He tells you how he became unrecognizable to himself, someone he didn’t recognize when he looked in the mirror - and he blamed it all on you. Blaming it on someone made it easier for him to get through life, even if he knew that it made him as pathetic as you called him.

Your thighs cage Jungkook in as he speaks, your hips rising and falling. You go faster and faster with each admission, your eyes focusing on the way Jungkook’s flutter and his lips part to let out satisfied moans.

“What do you feel now, Kookie?” you couldn’t help but ask. Your hands settle onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin without a care. Jungkook finds the stinging pain pleasurable. 

It’s hard to speak with the way you were taking him, rising and falling onto his cock so well. Your breasts bounce in his face and it’s right here that Jungkook thinks he’s in heaven.

“I love fucking you.” Jungkook gasps, his hands grabbing your waist in an attempt to slow you down, but if anything it feeds you. You grind against his cock, groaning with how deep inside of you it is. “I love having you close to me again.”

“You sound-”

“Pathetic?” Jungkook answers for you with a whimper. “I know.”

Nothing about what Jungkook was going through - and what he’s openly admitting - was admirable. He was everything you told him he was. And, at the moment, he hadn’t cared. Instead, his focus was on the way your pussy squeezes around his cock so lovingly, sinking him into the pleasured abyss, his tip slamming against that sweet spot he’s grown to love. 

“I love being around you.” Jungkook has to stop you himself by lifting you off of him. His breath quickens and for a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut. He didn’t want to cum - not yet.

“Too much?” you murmur, hovering above him. “Everytime you get sentimental, you act like you can’t handle it.”

“I can handle it just fine.” Jungkook retorts. “Maybe I just want to savor it.” he says.

Much to your dismay - partially - Jungkook flips the two of you. Your back hits the bed, but only a second goes by before he flips you once more, your chest pressed firmly against the bed.

“Knowing how you like to do things.” Jungkook retorts right behind you, and before you could snap back at him like he knows you would, his cock is entering you. 

As if on instinct, your thighs part, needing to feel more of him inside of you. Your lips part and as hard as you try, you couldn’t help the moan that falls pass them.

“Never know when you’ll get up and run away.” Jungkook snaps his hips forwards, a hand falling right besides your head, the other onto your waist to keep you right where he needs you. “You’re good for that, you know?”

Jungkook starts at a steady pace, his eyes fluttering with how well you feel around his cock. He doesn’t get tired of this - of you. 

“Fuck you.” you hiss just as your hands grip the sheets beneath you tightly. 

Then, Jungkook’s pace quickens. Who was he not to give you what you were desperately asking of him? His cocks pumps into you deeply, his stamina never wavering. The sight of you alone has his heart racing. You look so beautiful beneath him, your back arched just a bit, your thighs pushed apart to allow more of him in. It was perfect.

“But those days are behind us, right? You won’t be running anymore.” Jungkook huffs, lowering himself to press a kiss against your back.

You bite the inside of your cheek harshly, your eyes fluttering. Jungkook always has this switch to him. One moment, you’d be in control of it all, then the next he was. It was a healthy contrast to his younger self who allowed you to do whatever. It reminds you now that he was indeed a man.

As much as Jungkook was torturing himself with pulling out right as he was about to cum, he’s torturing you just as much. You’re a trembling mess beneath him, only the tip still in your clenching hole. He’s only a bit smug with how fucked out you are right now, loving the way your body flinches and your pussy squeezes at him, wanting more.

“You look so pretty like this.” Jungkooks coos, allowing his cock to push deeper inside of you and on instinct, your hips buck. A straggled moan passes through your lips. “It’s so different to see you compliant.”

Your pussy is already so wet and with each stretch, a sloppy squelch dances through Jungkook’s ears. It’s something he’d never get tired of. He pushes the rest of his cock in, burying it to the hilt. Your back arches and your fingers are tightly fisted into the bedsheets. A part of you is grateful that Jungkook’s home is as cheap as your apartment. The walls aren’t as thin and behind the thick, mahogany door you couldn’t hear anything. 

Witnessing the way your pussy takes all of him, Jungkook couldn’t help but licks his lips. Your body is so flushed, your thighs shaking and he cannot see your face, but he knows by now what you look like - glossy eyes and fucked out expression; his favorite.

“You tapping out?” Jungkook chuckles, thrusting out just to push back into you once more. He enjoys the sight of your ass slamming against him. “Can’t handle it?”

Jungkook isn’t slow in fucking you this time. He’s tortured you - and himself -  enough. He doesn’t give you a chance to give him a snappy response, and instead beats you to it. Each thrust has your body crashing against the bed, a moan - sometimes a high-pitched squeal - following immediately after. He thinks how perfect you are beneath him - how much he doesn’t want this to end. Your pussy is so wet that it captivates him entirely, plunging in and out of you roughly as you beg him for more - deeper, harder, faster.

You don’t have anything catty to say to the man, nothing besides sobs of pleasures. Maybe Jungkook won this one, you think, but there'll be many more battles that you’ll overcome. Until then, you allow your hips to meet Jungkook’s thrusts. Your pussy spasms, arousal pooling down your thighs filthily.

“Theeere you go,” Jungkook groans. His left hand slides from your waist slowly, leaving goosebumps behind them. He stops at your neck and roughly grasps it and hoists you up against his chest. His pumps don't stop as his lips press against your ear. He nibbles on it teasingly before his tongue licks along it. “I know you can take it just fine, baby.”

From your neck, Jungkook’s hand softens as it glides down to your chest. He squeezes a breast into his palm possessively, all the way his tongue falls to your neck. 

“Feel how wet you are.”

You do without hesitation - another part to Jungkook for how submissive you were being. You’re embarrassed by how right he is, your thighs coated with your own arousal. His cock pumps more out with each thrust. Your fingers twirl around your clit as your orgasm approaches closer. Your body falls limp against Jungkook’s.

Squeezing your breast again, Jungkook grumbles, “You aren’t going anywhere.” 

Jungkook knows that no matter how demanding and monotonous he speaks, deep down, there’s the same pathetic teenage boy you remember. The same one who watched you from afar and wished, that even if once, you’d talk to him again. He needs to hear you say it, so he tells you to. “Say it.”

You let go, juices pulling onto your fingers as Jungkook sloppily thrusts forward - deeper and deeper, hitting that sweet spot so well.

“Say you’re not going to leave.” Jungkook nearly begs into your neck, his stomach forming into knots.

You do, the simple “I’m not going to leave you” that has his pathetic heart fluttering. At that moment is when Jungkook cums, spilling so much inside of you that it knocks him unconscious immediately afterwards.

Jungkook is groggy when he awakes. He isn’t sure what time it is or how long he’s been asleep for - and for a few seconds, he forgets what day it is. Then, nearly all at once, does he remember exactly what’s happened the day prior.

Jungkook also remembers you fucking him to sleep, so much so that he couldn’t do his nightly workout session.

Reaching out his arms, Jungkook feels his heart jolt at how empty the bed feels. His eyes attempt to adjust and when they do, he finds that he’s alone, the large bed holding no trace of you. At first, he doesn’t know what to think or how to react - then his mind jumps into multiple scenarios. 

You left him - again. You fucked him to sleep and took the first moment you could to get the fuck out of there, taking Ji-tae with you. Of course, there’s only so far you could go, but it’s the first thought that comes to mind.

Then, however, Jungkook notices the faint smell of cinnamon. It eases his heart just a bit that he notices that his bedroom door is cracked just a bit. 

Within 15 minutes, Jungkook is washed up and takes the long hallway down to the kitchen.   He hears running water and when he rounds the corner, he sees you.

“Well you’re finally awake.” you say, glancing up from the plates you were scrubbing. 

Jungkook takes a deep breath, watching you long enough that you look up at him and catch his eye.

“Rough night?” you’re teasing him. The smile that forms onto your lips is enough for him to know that.

Jungkook hums, deciding to enter the kitchen instead of lingering in the entry way. His eyes scan the scenery and inhale the cinnamon smell once more.

Jungkook swallows, feeling a fluttery sensation in his stomach. 

You hadn’t left him, he thinks. Instead, you’re still here. You’re cleaning up what was cooked for breakfast, a meal he’s obviously missed, and you’re dressed for the day. 

You hadn’t left him. You cooked. You’re still here. You’re teasing him.

“You made breakfast.” states Jungkook, deciding that if he didn’t come back to reality soon, he’d probably confuse you.

“Your plate’s in the microwave. Didn’t want to wake you.”

You woke before anyone, but you weren’t surprised when Ji-tae was the next person up. You had managed to drive home, grab more than a few items that he’d need to start his own day, before returning. 

Jinah was the next one up. Her hair was a mess and at the sound of pancakes, she’s wide awake. 

“Jinah’s with Ji-tae.” you say as you place a plate onto the drying rack. “I told him he could use your treadmill. He usually runs every morning.”

Jungkook’s eyes glanced around the kitchen once more. He supposed that explains items being out that he’s positive you wouldn’t use - like the chocolate flavor protein powder.

“Is that fine?”

Jungkook blinks back at you. Your eyes are on him, this time scrubbing a pan.

“Of course.” Jungkook responds coolly. “I hope Jinah isn’t annoying him,” he says. He goes towards the microwave and opens it to find the stack of pancakes - blueberry; Jinah’s favorite. “She grows attached quickly.”

You should know, Jungkook thinks, as she grew fond of you quicker than he expected. 

You snicker. You have to admit that Ji-tae fits the role of the older brother perfectly and watching the two of them does something to your heart. It was him who cut her pancakes when she asked and at the sight of Ji-tae adding extra syrup to his pancakes, she insisted that she wanted the same.

“Tae’s fine.” you tell Jungkook. You’re rinsing the last pan. “She hasn’t left his side yet. They actually look so cute~”

Jungkook scarfs down the pancakes when you remember. The two of you remained in a comfortable silence in the kitchen as he ate. You make your way towards the island where your bag sits. You rummage through it.

“I went home while you were asleep. Grab some things for Tae.” you start. “Thought…you’d wanted these.”

Jungkook licks his lips. His eyebrows furrow a bit when you hold up a black album. Immediately Jungkook notices it’s a photo album

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours for a moment. You look…nervous? 

Jungkook grabs the album from your hands. It’s black with a gold band outlining it.

“I know pictures can’t make up 13 years but…” you trail off. You can feel your heart in your chest now. Still, you’re unsure why you’re feeling this way. There weren’t anything but pictures throughout the years, and yet you feel as though you want the world to swallow you whole right now. 

Jungkook opens the album, his eyes falling on the first picture. It’s of you - the you he remembers 13 years ago. You’re so young, he thinks, laying in the hospital bed sporting the gown. In your chest is a small infant, curled up. Your hands cradle him close and at the sight, Jungkook swallows thickly. 

“My mom took that picture.” you murmur, glancing at the photo across from him. “He actually came a few weeks early. I was actually so relieved,” you snickered. “all he did was move and kick constantly.

Jungkook goes through the photo album, witnessing the way Ji-tae - and you - age. First birthdays, to first days of school. Award ceremonies at school, to his gymnastic meets - a sense of pride goes through Jungkook when he notices that Ji-tae was always first in everything.

The most recent picture in there is one of him this year, his final school picture before he’d be entering High School. He stares at the picture of the boy that’s so close to him now that shares the same dark eyes and smile.

You watch the way Jungkook’s eyes are nearly unblinking the entire time, flipping through the pictures. A few of them you explain - like Ji-tae participating in gymnastics, or the time he won so many awards at school that you treated him an entire day at the arcade, something you saved up for.

“Are you okay?” you couldn’t help but ask, causing Jungkook to blink a few times. He hadn’t talked much and now, all he had been doing was staring at the school picture in front of him.

“Is it…too much?”

You were afraid to hear what Jungkook had to say. A part of you feels bad for having him and Ji-tae find out the way they did. You understood the decision wasn’t only yours and in the end, it was Ji-tae that lost out on a paternal figure. The other part of you - the stubbornness that Jungkook knows all too well - doesn’t feel the same. Could you look at yourself the same if you knew Jungkook would have given up everything he worked hard for to stay with you?

You thought giving Jungkook an insight of what it was like, even if it was just a small fraction of it, would be a start. Now-

“You’re all he has.”

Jungkook’s words replay in your mind - over and over again.

“And he was all you had, too.” Jungkook murmurs. He closes the album and finally looks up at you. “I understand now why he thinks I’m taking advantage of you.”

“He doesn't think that anymore.” you protest, but Jungkook cuts you off.

“If looks could kill, Y/N, I would’ve been dead the first time he saw me.” Jungkook isn’t upset, you note. He’s understanding - now more than ever. “He’s just protective over you.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head. “I know…” you exhale. “I don’t want him to be. I want him to be a regular teenager and not worry about anything. But that’s Tae for you.”

“Can I keep these?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the pictures.

“Y-Yeah.” you nod. Your body warms up and you have to look away from Jungkook in order to feel cool again.

You hadn’t realized Jungkook had rounded the island until you felt him. A pair of arms wrap around your shoulders. 

“Kook-”

“Thank you.”

Ji-tae feels like, in a short amount of time, he’s grown well of hiding around corners to listen in on you and Jungkook. He watches the way Jungkook wraps you into an embrace that has you shocked. The way he whispers “Thank you” to you, followed by a “I want us to be a family”.

Ji-tae listens in for a bit longer. He studies the way you couldn’t hold Jungkook’s gaze before you’re looking away from him nervously, but you find his kisses inviting. You tell him that you aren’t sure if it’s something he - Ji-tae - would want so soon. You don’t want to change everything he’s known overnight. “Whenever he’s ready.” was Jungkook’s response. Ji-tae knows that he has to play it cool when Jinah’s feet paddle against the floor, coming closer and closer. When she reaches Ji-tae, her small hands grasp his and she says, “I found you!”

“You did.” Ji-tae hums, a low grin forming onto his lips. “I guess it’s my turn to count.”

“Lei,”

Lei looks up from her computer. She offers a kind smile. 

“Mr. Park.” Lei stands, offering a head bow. “Welcome.”

Park Jimin offers the same smile her way, one that always has her stomach falling at how handsome he is.

“Is Mr. Jeon expecting you?” Lei asks. 

“Not exactly.” Jimin giggles. 

Behind Jimin stands a woman, her arms behind her back as she waits patiently for Jimin. Her hair is a golden brown and through the floor length windows behind her, it appears to glow. She’s model-like, Lei notes. Tall, slender, toned. 

“Let me call him-”

Lei picks up the phone to dial her boss right on the top floor. Jungkook isn’t one to be stern, but he’s made it clear that he would need to be informed before anyone makes their way up.

“That won’t be necessary.” Jimin assures, placing a hand onto the desk. “I’ll give him a call on the way up, okay?”

Lei appears hesitant. She bites her lip, glancing between Jimin to the model-like woman behind him. She knows who he is. After being employed here for years, she’s well acquainted with those close to Mr. Jeon. 

Jungkook and you have been nothing but unprofessional in his office. But you and he are on lunch break so it’s completely fine. You’re seated on his lap now, your once buttoned shirt now wide open for him. Your skirt is scrunched up at your hips. Your panties are soaked as they grind against his hardened cock.

Completely unprofessional for a boss and his assistant.

But it’s okay, because you’re also the mother of his son.

Jungkook’s tongue slurps and suckles against your hardened nipple, his thumb and index finger tugging at the other one. His right arm is wrapped around your waist, his palm directly against your ass, encouraging you to grind harder against him.

“I can get more work done around here if you’d stop trying to fuck me so much.” 

But the way your hands grip at Jungkook's hair tells the true story. You didn’t want him to stop, and neither did he.

“Anyone would be happy to get paid to rub their pussy against me.” Jungkook retorts, popping your wet nipple from his lips. 

Jungkook is right about that, but he also doesn’t have the chance to continue further due to the elevator sounding. He feels his head begin to hurt. 

“How many times do I have to tell Lei?” he grumbles.

It takes you and Jungkook 2 minutes to get situated. It would’ve been faster if the man wasn’t hellbent on kissing you every few seconds, laughing against your lips while you attempted to button up your shirt.

Just as the elevator doors open, you’re already sitting at your desk. 

Jungkook’s knowing smirk drops when he realizes who is behind the elevator doors.

“Well well,” 

Your eyes follow the man that walks through, then at the woman behind him. Glancing at Jungkook, your eyebrows knit. He doesn’t look content in seeing either of them.

Jungkook stands from his seat. “What-”

“You’ve been ignoring all of my calls and texts.” the man tells Jungkook. “Hobi said he hasn’t heard from you, either.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath as he looks at a stern Park Jimin, one of his closest friends.

Seeing Jimin now wouldn’t be an issue, of course, if he hadn’t been avoiding him because of you and Ji-tae - mainly you. 

Slowly, you and Jungkook were growing accustomed to being a family. It took two weeks for you to allow Ji-tae to occupy the spare room and make it his own. The first session with Namjoon was just a week ago, and tomorrow will be the second one. 

Namjoon himself has been sworn into secrecy and had been speechless at the words Jungkook had told him over the phone. At times, he laughs at the look on Namjoon’s face when he comes to his home and actually see’s Ji-tae for the first time.

The events of last month had occupied Jungkook’s time to the point that he didn’t have time to answer Jimin’s blind date requests. He knew it was a matter of time before Jimin came to him himself.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say, standing at your desk and rounding it. Being professional with him is so out of the ordinary that it even surprises you. “should I get refreshments for you and your…guests?”

Jimin turns to you, allowing his eyes to trail the entirety of your body before meeting your eyes. “Hello.” he says, offering the same kind smile to you that he did to Lei. “I wasn’t aware you had an assistant now. My apologies.”

Jungkook watches the way Jimin holds out his hand for you to take. When you do, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Park Jimin,” the man says.

Jungkook watches the way your eyes flash with sudden realization. He licks his lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Park Jimin…” you hum back his name so sweetly that Jungkook knows it’s an act. Your eyes connect with his and you feel like it’s your lucky day. “...I’ve heard about you.”

Jimin snickers. “Have you?” he asks. “It’s a shame. My closest friend has kept me in the dark for months now.” he lets go of your hand and turns back to Jungkook. “So much so that I had to track him down myself.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook sighs. He didn’t have time for this now. 

Jimin’s eyes trail along Jungkook’s desk, witnessing pictures of Jinah, the adorable little girl that has so much of Jungkook’s personality that sometimes he swears she was created in a lab. His eyes fall on another picture, one that has his eyes squinting.

Immediately, Jungkook notices where Jimin’s eyes are focused. It’s of Ji-tae and Jinah, a picture that has been taken recently by you. It’s become one of his favorite pictures with how excited the two of them look holding their own ice cream cones, double scooped with disgustingly good amounts of toppings and fudge on it that it drips down the cone entirely.

Before Jimin can question anything, Jungkook speaks. “Yes, refreshments would be nice.” 

Jimin’s eyes snap upwards at Jungkook, before he turns back to you. Your heels click against the marble floor as you make your way towards the elevator. 

“I didn’t get your name.” Jimin calls just as the elevator doors open.

“That’s right.” you smile, entering the elevator. “Y/N.” you tell him, pressing the button to the lobby. You had to say it was well worth it to watch the grin on Jimin’s lips falter almost immediately at the sound of your name.

so i wanted things to be wrapped up in 3 parts, but knowing me you guys will be waiting for another 6 months LMAO and i cannot have that

@sweetempathprunetree @investedreader @ami-s-k @mar-lo-pap @kurouster @handsomejin25 @glitterkoo @avawants2havefun @chelzaa @strawbi-reads @somehowukook @turboreader @bts-ruu @bts123746 @pinkcoffeehottub @minimoninini @certainuncertainty11n @tastykookoonut @kkjagi @laylajeon303 @kkjagi @hubbytaehyung @seabass17 @pearinwords @krystal-a @j0cgr0c @peach-delight @sawadi-bebe @fxirytaetae @jendeuk123 @babystarcandyrecs @jopewifey @jkxlvrr @apobangpogirlyyy @uwusunwoo @lyssa-otaku @thatsrayllensworld @immalosersblog @llallaaa @seabass17 @ecwipsecoffee @plentysuga @hatdogsss

[inthelow]

SORRY, WRONG NUMBER ! — jeon jungkook (eight).

pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook

summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.

genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.

author’s note: don’t forget that the tweets have to be read from bottom to top. thank u guys for the wait i didn’t realize it’s been too long im sorry 😭 hope ure still reading this silly fic, lmk what u think of this chap<333

chapter index | previous — next

— chapter eight: home-wrecker era!

——————————

i made hobi more insane and yoongi lowkey is the real wingman hell yeaaa. ngl laughed a little with the first tweet because wth with everything that is happening here lowkey my timing couldn’t be so perfect 😭

taglist: @louxmclll @fluffysheepmaster @labbbaaa @yooniebuns @oncyanii @taetaecatboy @yawnzshit @mniys @kit9doctordreamer @asyr97 @wonderlandkook @songbyeonkim @jksusawife @lackingdopaminesince2007 @amimi-bts @unknownbeknowst @koobiiiistar @nastypinkbunny @mninotjungkook @4rmyf1cs @iiunique @oopscoop @dollyunjinz @junecat18 @gwonlvr @pprettyanna @94hobi @spenceatiny18 @mikrokookiex @urmotherlvr @akl3223 @@dim18 @bloopkook @cherrieshyy @lizka007 @hagridshaircare @jooniesthigh @star-my @iridescentshine @kookie96 @brieally @fadedmixtape @xyz77777777 @hennessysthings @snipky @taemanikoo @fullcolorfreaklight @jjanajk @badaspice

[ggukiebar]

gun play | j.jk

pairing: police officer jungkook x thief reader

word count: 16.9k

genre: dark smut

summary: trying to steal the gold necklace around his neck, you didn’t realize that the man you were stealing from was a high-ranking police officer.

warnings: officer jungkook x thief reader, explicit sexual content, dead dove, cnc/dub-con, gun play, belt choking, usage of handcuffs, primal play, free use/rape, public sex, heavy degradation, manhandling, daddy, dom jk, clit rubbing, spitting, mock sympathy, condescending dirty talk, cum eating, pussy eating, blow job, usage whore & slut, praising, multiple orgasms, manipulation, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, cum eating penetrative sex, creampie.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

"Let's check out the beer house tonight." Hanni said, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "I heard it's packed with rich people on Fridays."

Your brows knitted together. "A beer house?"

A knowing smirk tugged at Hanni's lips. She swept 1her dark hair into a messy bun before pulling out the chair beside the table, giving the seat a light tap as she gestured for you to sit.

The moment you settled across from her, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned in…There was a familiar gleam in her eyes—the kind that only appeared whenever she had a new scheme brewing. 

"It's one of the most popular beer houses in the city," she explained. "The drinks alone cost more than what we spend on groceries in a week. People who go there don't think twice before throwing money around, which means they're exactly the kind of people we're looking for."

You couldn't help but picture it.

Crowded tables, loud music and half-empty bottles scattered across polished wooden counters. Men laughing far too loudly, their faces flushed from alcohol, expensive watches gleaming beneath the dim lights while thick leather wallets bulged inside the pockets of tailored trousers.

You frowned, unease settling in your chest.

"I'm pretty sure it'll be full of drunk old men, Hanni." you rested your chin against your palm. “Doesn't that sound a little... dangerous?”

Hanni dismissed the concern with a careless wave of her hand.

"They'll be too wasted to notice us," she said with a shrug. "Besides, those are the guys with money. A few missing bills won't even cross their minds."

She leaned even closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to reveal the greatest secret in the world.

"Just give them a sweet smile," she said, the corners of her lips curling into something dangerously playful. "Make them think you've taken an interest in them. Laugh at their terrible jokes, let them believe they're charming..." 

She snapped her fingers between the two of you. "And before they even realize what's happening, you've already walked away with their wallet—or better yet, their credit cards."

A life built on stolen fortunes, calculated manipulation, and carefully crafted deception.

The words no longer sting the way they used to. They've become as familiar as your own name, each one another thread woven into the person you've become. What once filled you with guilt now slips through your fingers as though it was never yours to carry.

Perhaps that's what desperation does.

It doesn't ask you to become someone else. It simply teaches you how to live with the stranger you've become.

Earlier that evening, you and Hanni gathered everything you had stolen throughout the month, laying each piece across the small wooden table between you.

"We only gathered six hundred dollars this month, Y/N... This won't be enough."

A phone, a handful of jewelry, two wallets, and a watch clattered against the worn wood before settling into a messy pile.

"This won't cover this month's rent..." she let out a weary sigh, her manicured nails tapping absentmindedly against the tabletop as she stared at the stolen valuables and the few crumpled bills scattered between them. "And we still have enrollment next month."

Your lips fell into a pout. "But the jewelry I stole is real gold."

You reached for the bracelet, turning it beneath the light. The polished links gleamed against your fingers.

Hanni only sighed again, the exhaustion in her expression deepening.

"It's low-karat gold, Y/N. And there's barely enough of it to be worth anything." she rubbed her temple before glancing at the rest of the pile. "If you manage to steal more next time, maybe we'll actually get something decent for it."

You looked back down at the bracelet, the weight of her words settling heavier than the gold resting in your palm.

You weren't born into wealth…from kindergarten until the day you graduated high school, scholarships carried you through your education. Without them, you doubted you would've made it that far. 

College was different.

Moving out had seemed like the responsible decision at the time. Renting a small apartment near the university was cheaper than spending money on transportation every day between your hometown and campus, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for more than they were already giving. 

So you packed your clothes into two worn-out bags, hugged your mother goodbye, listened to your father's endless reminders to eat properly, and promised them you would be fine.

Your father spent his days baking homemade bread before the sun had fully risen, while your mother worked quietly as a bookkeeper, carefully balancing numbers that never seemed to balance in your own household. Together, they earned just enough to keep food on the table and a roof over your heads.

Needs always came first.

Wants became something you learned to admire from a distance.

Yet, strangely enough, you never felt deprived.

Your home was small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knew everybody, but it was always filled with warmth. 

While your classmates spoke about family vacations abroad, arrived at school carrying luxury handbags, and replaced perfectly good shoes simply because a newer pair had been released, you found comfort in simpler things. 

The smell of freshly baked bread lingering in the kitchen before sunrise. The sound of your father humming while kneading dough. Your mother's gentle voice reminding you not to skip breakfast, even when she knew you were running late.

You loved that life.

More importantly, you loved the people who gave it to you.

Which was why, when college came, you couldn't bear the thought of asking them for more. Every dollar they handed you felt heavier than the last, weighted by sacrifices they never spoke about but could never hide. 

You watched your father work longer hours. You noticed your mother's tired eyes after another day spent staring at ledgers and receipts. They never complained…not once—but love has a way of revealing exhaustion long before words ever do.

So you promised yourself that you would become lighter.

You moved out. You searched for part-time jobs. You told yourself that no matter how difficult life became, you would survive without asking your parents to carry you any farther.

You really believed honest work would be enough.

Finding a cheap apartment hadn't been easy, and if there was one stroke of luck you could still thank the universe for, it was meeting Hanni.

You found her through a post looking for a roommate. She needed someone to split the rent, and you needed somewhere you could actually afford. 

The apartment sat only a few minutes away from the university, saving you the transportation costs you had spent countless nights calculating over and over again.

Hanni turned out to be easier to live with than you expected. She wasn't the type to spend recklessly or chase after things she didn't need. Like you, she stretched every dollar until there was nothing left to stretch. 

For the first few months, you lived off your savings.

Each rent payment made the envelope thinner. Each grocery trip reminded you that numbers disappeared far quicker than they were earned. You searched for work every chance you got, walking into cafés, convenience stores, restaurants—any place with a "Now Hiring" sign taped to the window.

When a fast-food restaurant finally hired you as a server, you thought things were finally looking up.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been so relieved. The excitement, however, didn't last very long.

The paycheck barely reached your hands before it already belonged somewhere else. Half disappeared into rent. Another portion went to groceries, transportation, and the endless expenses college quietly demanded. 

Scholarships covered your tuition, but not everything else. There were laboratory fees, books that professors insisted were mandatory, printed materials, projects, uniforms, and countless little payments that no one ever warned you about.

The money came in. It left even faster.

And no matter how carefully you budgeted every cent, by the end of each month, you always found yourself staring at the same conclusion.

It still wasn't enough.

Hanni, however, never seemed to struggle the way you did.

For reasons she never fully explained, she always had money tucked away somewhere. Not enough to live lavishly, but enough to ease the constant pressure that settled on your shoulders every time rent was due. 

Naturally, you asked where all that money came from. Hanni would only shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as though the answer amused her.

"I have a lot of sidelines," she'd say, never bothering to explain any further. 

It was vague enough to end the conversation, yet suspicious enough to keep your curiosity alive.

Eventually, you stopped asking…but you never stopped noticing. 

One afternoon she'd come home carrying the newest phone model, casually placing it on the kitchen counter while she searched the refrigerator for something to eat. 

The following day, it would already be gone. 

Sometimes it was a watch. Other times it was a gold necklace or a designer wallet. The items constantly changed, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared, but you never questioned her. 

It wasn't until the two of you had grown close enough that she finally trusted you with the truth. 

You remembered expecting disgust to settle in your stomach the moment she confessed. Instead, all you felt was curiosity. 

Hanni told her story so casually, as though she were recalling an ordinary childhood memory instead of admitting to a crime.

She learned how to steal when she was still a little girl. Whenever she picked up a toy at a store or tore open a packet of snacks while trailing beside her mother, no one questioned her. People rarely suspected children, and Hanni learned that long before she understood the weight of what she was doing.

What started as childish curiosity slowly became instinct. Instinct became skill, skill became confidence, and confidence eventually became survival. 

By the time she reached adulthood, stealing was no longer something she occasionally did—it was simply how she made a living. 

She wasn't born into comfort either. Her family had struggled just as much as yours, if not more, and perhaps that was why you found it difficult to judge her. 

You knew what it felt like to lie awake at night wondering how another month would pass. 

You knew what desperation looked like because you had seen it reflected in your parents' exhausted smiles, hidden behind reassuring words they never truly meant. Maybe that was why her confession never horrified you.

Desperation has a peculiar way of changing people.

Because somewhere deep inside, in a place you refused to acknowledge, you understood exactly why she had chosen this path.

"You should blend in. Don't wear those ridiculous jackets or black caps." Hanni chuckled, uncapping the marker in her hand before turning to the small whiteboard hanging beside the refrigerator. 

She drew little stick figures and arrows as if she were giving a university lecture instead of teaching you how to commit crimes. There were circles around the words confidence, timing, and exit, each one underlined twice before she tapped the marker against the board. 

It sounded embarrassingly simple…but it wasn’t.

Your first theft had been nothing more than a granola bar from a convenience store, yet your hands had trembled so violently you almost dropped it before reaching the exit. Your heart pounded against your ribs with enough force to convince you everyone around could hear it.

Every customer who glanced in your direction felt like security in disguise, every beep from the cashier sounded like an alarm, and by the time the automatic doors slid open behind you, your palms were slick with sweat around the tiny snack bar you had risked so much to steal.

Hanni, meanwhile…walked out carrying a bottle of wine, two bags of cheetos, and three packs of mini m&m's tucked somewhere beneath her oversized cardigan. She looked utterly unbothered, stopping only to ask whether you wanted to eat at the nearby park before either of you went home. 

You remembered staring at her with your mouth slightly open, unable to understand how someone could steal so much and still have the composure to worry about dinner.

She only laughed. "It gets easier."

You hated how right she was.

Over the following weeks, your trembling hands gradually learned to stay still. You learned that people rarely questioned someone who acted like they belonged. 

Confidence, Hanni often said, was the greatest disguise anyone could wear, and manipulation was nothing more than convincing people to believe the version of you that benefited them most. 

You practiced smiling at strangers. You practiced maintaining eye contact. You practiced walking away without looking back.

Little by little, it became easier to silence the guilt.

Two months later, you could finally say you were improving. Your movements were steadier, your excuses more believable, your lies smoother than they had ever been before. 

Even so, whenever you compared yourself to Hanni, you still felt like an amateur watching a professional at work. She stole with an ease you doubted you would ever possess.

"Hanni, I'm not good at seducing people... you know that." you let out a groan, dropping your forehead onto the table with a dull thud. 

For all the confidence you had slowly learned to fake while stealing, anything involving men was an entirely different story. 

You have no experience.

Your thefts still involved people, but you always kept your distance…especially from men. You waited for moments of carelessness, slipping valuables from unattended bags, distracted shoppers, or pockets left carelessly exposed before disappearing into the crowd.

It was safer that way. The rewards were smaller, perhaps, but it meant you never had to charm, distract, or make someone lower their guard just to steal from them.

After all, you were still an amateur.

Romance had always seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford. 

While your classmates spent their weekends going on dates or gossiping about their newest crushes, you spent yours calculating expenses and wondering whether instant noodles could count as dinner for the fourth night in a row.

Hanni had pointed it out countless times before.

According to her, manipulating people wasn't always about lying. 

With men, it was about making them believe they had a chance with you. 

The problem was…you had no idea how to do that. 

You didn't know how to flirt, how to bat your eyelashes, or how to laugh at someone's terrible jokes without making it painfully obvious you were pretending. The thought alone made your stomach twist into nervous knots.

Hanni rolled her eyes, dismissing every excuse before you even had the chance to finish making one.

"Oh, stop it." she waved a hand dramatically. "You're very pretty, Y/N. Don't give me that bullshit! Just smile at them…one cute little smile and I guarantee they'll be tripping over themselves to impress you."

You buried your face deeper into your arms."But, Hanni—"

"No buts." she sprang to her feet before you could protest again, practically skipping toward her bedroom. A moment later, she returned with two shopping bags swinging from her hands, the grin on her face growing impossibly wider.

"Besides, I already bought us dresses for tonight." she giggled.

Oh, you were doomed.

"This is so short," you complained, tugging at the hem of the black spaghetti-strap dress for what had to be the tenth time. Every time you managed to pull it down another inch, it simply rode back up the moment you took another step, as though the fabric itself was determined to embarrass you.

Hanni had insisted on doing everything herself. Your hair fell in loose, natural waves over your shoulders, soft enough to hide the nervous rise and fall of your breathing. She had done your makeup too, dusting the slightest touch of glitter across your eyelids that shimmered every time the streetlights caught your face. 

Even before you reached your destination, your feet were already protesting against the thin, strappy heels wrapped around your ankles, each step reminding you that beauty demanded sacrifices you had never volunteered to make.

Hanni glanced at you before letting out an amused laugh. "I can't see your panties from here, so you're fine."

You shot her an unamused look, earning another laugh from her.

Unlike you, Hanni looked completely at ease. 

Her dark green off-the-shoulder dress hugged her figure effortlessly, paired with matching heels that clicked confidently against the pavement. Her hair was swept into a messy updo that somehow looked intentionally elegant rather than rushed, and with the confidence she carried herself, no one would ever guess that the two of you struggled to pay rent every month.

Together, you looked exactly like the kind of girls who had never worried about money a day in their lives.

Which was almost funny.

Because hidden beneath expensive-looking dresses and carefully applied makeup were two women desperately hoping to walk away with someone else's wallet, watch, jewelry—or anything valuable enough to buy another month of survival.

"Okay, let's order a drink first and look around," Hanni said, her voice barely audible beneath the chatter spilling out from inside the beer house as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.

You followed closely behind, your heartbeat already beginning to pick up.

You had spent the entire walk convincing yourself that the place would be filled with loud, drunken old men slumped over tables, too intoxicated to notice a missing wallet or an expensive watch. Instead, your expectations dissolved the moment your eyes adjusted to the dim amber lights.

The place was crowded…not just with old men, but with all kinds of people. Groups of friends occupied long wooden tables, raising glasses every time the football match playing on the massive television reached an exciting moment. Couples sat tucked away in quieter corners, talking over bottles of beer, while businessmen who looked as though they had come straight from the office loosened their ties and laughed with colleagues over overflowing pitchers.

Your gaze drifted toward the long wooden bar stretching across one side of the room, shelves behind it neatly lined with bottles you had only ever seen locked behind glass displays. The smell of grilled meat and fried food lingered in the air, mixing with the bitter scent of beer, while a small band adjusted their instruments on the stage, preparing for the night ahead.

You quietly took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter building inside your chest. 

You had been stealing for two months now, yet every new place made you feel like it was your first all over again. The fear of getting caught never truly disappeared—it only learned how to hide beneath your smile.

Hanni walked through the crowd without a hint of hesitation, weaving between tables before claiming two empty seats near the stage. When the server approached, she greeted him with an easy smile, the kind that belonged to someone who had come for nothing more than a quiet drink after a long week.

"Two draft beers, please."

The server nodded before disappearing toward the counter.

Hanni waited until he was out of earshot before her eyes swept across the room once more, lingering only for a second before the corner of her lips slowly lifted.

"I found your table." Hanni raised a brow, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing smile.

You pouted, instinctively following her gaze as your eyes wandered across the crowded beer house. Round wooden tables filled nearly every corner, occupied by groups of men laughing over clinking bottles, scattered glasses, and the remnants of another round.

Of course she'd choose men. You had long grown used to Hanni's reasoning.

Men were easier to distract…and according to her, far easier to manipulate than women.

"Which one?" you asked, squinting as you searched through the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Hanni let out a quiet laugh before leaning closer, her perfume briefly overpowering the scent of beer lingering in the air. "The third table near the bar," she whispered, careful not to draw attention. "They look a little older than us. Not too old, though." 

She grinned mischievously. "I'd say they're giving daddy vibes."

You frowned at her. “Ugh, Hanni!”

Slowly, your gaze followed the direction she had subtly pointed, finally landing on the group she had been watching.

There were seven of them gathered around one of the larger tables, completely absorbed in their own conversation. They couldn't have been much older than Hanni had guessed, perhaps somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. 

Dressed in simple shirts, rugged jeans, and jackets carelessly draped over the backs of their chairs, they looked more like friends unwinding after a long week than the wealthy businessmen you had imagined on your walk there.

At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them. Yet the longer you watched, the easier it became to notice the details.

A watch that caught the light every time one of them lifted his beer. A phone left face-up beside an overflowing ashtray without a second thought. Car keys, wallets, and cigarette packs lay scattered across the wooden table between bottles of beer and half-finished baskets of bar snacks, abandoned in the comfort of good company.

They laughed loudly, occasionally teasing one another, while wisps of cigarette smoke curled lazily into the air above them. They were so engrossed in their own little world that they never once looked your way.

"What do you think?" Hanni asked, her eyes never leaving the group near the bar."I say you target that table while I take the one near the door."

Your gaze lingered on the men for another moment before dropping to the table between you. Almost as if on cue, the server returned with your drinks, carefully placing two glasses of draft beer in front of you. Tiny bubbles rushed to the surface beneath a thick layer of foam, the chilled glass immediately collecting beads of condensation.

Hanni thanked him with a smile before wrapping her fingers around her glass. She looked... excited. There was always a certain spark in her eyes before a job, one you had grown familiar with over the past two months. 

While your stomach twisted itself into knots, hers seemed to settle. The closer she came to danger, the calmer she became.

Your fingers traced the condensation gathering around your own glass as you quietly stared into the golden beer. The thought of walking up to a table full of strangers, pretending to be interested in one of them, was enough to make your stomach tighten. 

You had spent the last two months learning how to steal, how to lie without stumbling over your words, how to smile convincingly enough for people to lower their guard. 

But flirting? That was something entirely different.

Still...

You glanced down at the dress hugging your figure before absentmindedly smoothing the fabric over your thighs. Hanni had spent her own money buying it for you. She had curled your hair, done your makeup, and patiently convinced you that you looked like you belonged in a place like this. She had done everything she could to make tonight successful.

The least you could do was try.

The numbers flashed through your mind before you could stop them, reminding you how little time you had left before another payment was due. 

You drew in a slow breath before finally looking back at Hanni, offering her a small smile that carried far more determination than confidence.

"Alright," you said with determination. "I promise I'll do my best."

Her face immediately brightened. "That's my girl!"

She lifted her glass toward yours with a grin so wide it was almost contagious.

"Cheers to that, baby."

The soft clink echoed between you, disappearing almost instantly beneath the laughter, music, and the constant hum of conversations filling the beer house.

Easy…smile, flirt and steal.

After a couple of minutes spent nursing your drinks and quietly familiarizing yourselves with the beer house, Hanni caught your eye from across the table. She gave the slightest nod—a silent signal the two of you had long grown accustomed to. 

It was time.

You rose from your seat, smoothing the wrinkles from your dress before letting your fingers comb through your hair, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. Hanni disappeared into the crowd without another word, already making her way toward her own target, while you headed in the opposite direction, forcing yourself to wear the kind of smile she had spent weeks teaching you. Soft enough to seem approachable…confident enough to belong.

The barstool closest to their table sat empty.

You slipped onto it, offering the bartender a polite smile as he passed by before pretending to study the rows of bottles displayed behind the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention never truly left the table behind you.

Your heartbeat steadied, not because you were any less nervous…but because your mind had finally begun doing what Hanni had trained it to do.

Observe.

A few wallets lay carelessly on the wooden table, abandoned without a second thought by men too engrossed in conversation to notice their surroundings. Your fingers twitched ever so slightly.

Tonight, maybe two wallets would be enough. Any more than that would only invite unnecessary attention.

Your gaze lingered for another second before drifting higher, carefully studying each of the men one by one. 

If you were going to approach someone tonight, it couldn't be just anyone. You needed the one who looked the wealthiest, the one whose watch alone could cover next month's rent, whose jewelry might be worth more than everything you and Hanni had managed to steal over the past few months combined.

You couldn't flirt with all of them. So if you were going to take the risk, you might as well choose the wealthiest one.

Your eyes drifted from one man to another, careful not to linger for too long. 

One wore a pair of silver earrings that matched the chain resting against his chest. Another—the one with dimples that appeared every time he laughed—had an elegant silver watch wrapped around his wrist, the polished metal glimmering beneath the warm lights whenever he reached for his beer. The man beside him looked much simpler, dressed in an ordinary black shirt without a single piece of jewelry to catch your attention, and you dismissed him almost immediately.

You kept looking.

Until your gaze landed on a tattooed hand lazily wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.

Silver rings adorned nearly every finger, each one different from the next, and just above them rested a watch that looked far too expensive to belong in your world. Your eyes followed the slow movement of his hand as he lifted the bottle to his lips, only to notice the gold chain disappearing beneath the collar of his dark shirt. 

His ear was adorned with several silver earrings, each one catching the amber light whenever he turned toward one of his friends. When he tilted his head back for another sip, the small silver ring through his lower lip glinted just as brightly.

Then your gaze wandered lower…a pair of Porsche keys hung carelessly from the belt loop of his black jeans, swinging gently whenever he shifted in his seat as though they were nothing more than an ordinary keychain.

You quietly looked away before he could catch you staring, your heartbeat quickening as your fingers curled around the wooden counter.

Target locked.

You immediately order a shot of tequila, not to get drunk, but to act drunk.

Hanni had told you that people lowered their guard around someone who seemed tipsy. A little laugh that lingered too long, a gaze that wandered a little too often, movements just clumsy enough to look believable. It made approaching strangers easier.

You thanked the bartender with a polite smile before resting your elbow against the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention drifted back to the table.

His back was mostly facing you, making it difficult to study him without being obvious. Every now and then he'd turn toward one of his friends, giving you a brief glimpse of his side profile before looking away again, and somehow those fleeting seconds were enough for you to notice far more than you intended.

His jaw was clean and sharply defined, catching the amber glow whenever he tipped his head back to drink. A straight nose balanced his features effortlessly, while soft strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, shifting every time he ran a hand through them. Every so often, you caught sight of his dark round eyes, softened by the alcohol he'd been drinking, their usual alertness replaced by a lazy heaviness that made them unexpectedly... pretty.

Your brows knitted together. 

You were supposed to be memorizing his belongings Y/N! Not his face!

The bartender slid your tequila across the counter. You murmured a quiet thank you before lifting the glass to your lips, taking only a small sip. The burn barely had time to settle in your throat before your eyes sneakily wandered back toward the table.

"Huh?"  

His seat was empty!

Your brows furrowed as your eyes searched the group, confusion replacing the confidence you had spent the last several minutes trying so hard to build.

"Looking for me?” a deep chuckle sounded from behind you.

Your eyes widened, you turned so quickly you nearly knocked your drink over.

Even with you sitting down, he towered over you with ease, one side of his body leaning casually against the polished wooden counter. Up close, the details you had only managed to steal glances of moments ago became impossible to ignore—the silver rings decorating his fingers, the tattoos stretching over his right arm, the small hoop piercing his lower lip, and those heavy-lidded eyes now looking directly into yours.

The corner of his mouth curled upward…amused.

As though he'd caught you doing something you weren't supposed to.

"H-Hi!" you greeted, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended as you struggled to hide how badly he had startled you.

What the fuck.

For a split second, every lesson Hanni had drilled into your head disappeared. Your carefully rehearsed smile, your excuses, the confident persona you had spent two months trying to build—they all vanished the moment he caught you off guard.

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

"May I help you?"

Your own brows drew together before you could stop them, your smile faltering for the briefest moment.

"Hm?"

"You kept looking at me." he chuckled, low and amused.

There wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as though he'd caught you staring several times already and had simply decided to humor you instead of calling you out for it. 

Heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly, your mind scrambling for something—anything…that would keep your act from falling apart before it had even begun.

Trying to save yourself, you immediately gave him a flirty smile.

"Oh..." a soft giggle escaped your lips, "Was I that obvious?"

You tilted your head ever so slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at him through your lashes exactly the way Hanni had told you to. 

When he took a step closer, your breath hitched. 

His thick black boots brushed against the legs of your stool, and with the way he positioned himself, his broad frame nearly shielded you from the rest of the room. It wasn't intentional…or maybe it was—but suddenly the chatter of the beer house seemed much farther away than it had a second ago.

"Uh-huh," he murmured, the single sound barely above a whisper.

The faint scent of mint lingered beneath the beer on his breath, close enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment. Up close, the gold chain resting against his collarbone shimmered softly, layered alongside several silver necklaces that framed the base of his neck. 

Before your courage had the chance to abandon you…you slowly lifted a hand and rested it around the back of his neck, your fingertips grazing the cool metal chains lying against his skin.

"You're cute," you whispered, biting lightly on your lower lip as your fingers idly toyed with one of the necklaces. Every movement had been rehearsed in your head a dozen times before tonight, yet none of them felt natural now that they were happening. You only hoped he couldn't tell.

Fuck, he’s so handsome up close!

His head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across his face before his gaze slowly drifted downward. It lingered far longer than you were prepared for, tracing the exposed skin above your dress before continuing lower. Instinctively, you fought the urge to tug at the hem that had ridden higher on your thighs.

Don't. Fake it until you make it.

"I am?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk. His tongue swept across the silver ring piercing his lower lip before he leaned even closer, his lips hovering just beneath your ear.

"Yeah," you breathed, forcing confidence into your voice despite the frantic beating of your heart. "Want you."

The words felt foreign leaving your mouth. Still, they had the desired effect.

As his attention remained fixed on the spot where your pulse fluttered, your fingers subtly found the clasp hidden beneath the chains around his neck. 

One careful movement...that was all it would take.

You had barely begun to unhook it when his hand closed firmly around your wrist.

Your heart stopped. For one horrifying second, you were certain he'd caught you.

"Let's go to my car."

What?

"H-Huh? I..."

He lifted his head just enough for your eyes to meet his. The lazy amusement from earlier had disappeared, replaced by something darker. 

"I can't fuck you here."

Your eyes widen, fucking was your limit!

Your gaze drifted to the thick gold necklace resting against his chest... the leather wallet tucked carelessly into his pocket... and the sleek black car waiting only a few steps away.

Fuck it.

You followed him in silence, the cool night breeze brushing against your exposed skin and reminding you just how short your dress was. 

Your gaze remained fixed on his broad back as he unlocked the car, your throat tightening around a nervous swallow.

Earlier, when you had walked past Hanni, you had nearly burst into tears at the sight of her giving you an approving nod, silently cheering you on while she remained at her table, busy charming the men around her.

You couldn't back out now. Not after she'd placed this much faith in you.

The parking lot was quiet, a little farther from the beer house…the music fading into the distance. When he turned around, you gathered every ounce of courage you had left and greeted him with the sweetest smile you could muster.

Your mind raced, thoughts crashing into one another until only three remained.

First, find a way to slip the gold chain from around his neck. The wallet would come next, once he finally let his guard down.

Second, you were not going to fuck him. 

It didn't matter how broad his shoulders were, how unfairly handsome he looked, or how pretty his eyes became whenever he smiled.

Your hormones could cry about it later.

Third, whatever happened tonight... for the love of God, do not get caught.

He looked down at you, one brow lifting ever so slightly when he noticed the faint tremble in your legs.

"Get in."

He pulled the backseat door open for you, and you offered him a small, flirty smile before carefully slipping inside. 

The leather seat gave beneath your weight with a quiet creak, and for the briefest moment, you convinced yourself you'd have a second to steady your breathing, to gather the scattered pieces of your thoughts before facing him again.

The hope didn't last.

The car shifted as he climbed in after you, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that seemed to swallow the last bit of space inside the cabin. 

Your pulse faltered, the hem of your dress had ridden higher than you'd intended, exposing far more of your thighs than you were comfortable with, the fabric inching dangerously close to revealing the lace of your panties. Every instinct urged you to smooth it back into place, but you stopped yourself.

Focus, Y/N! You need to seduce him!

You had barely opened your mouth, ready to deliver one of the corniest pickup lines Hanni had relentlessly drilled into your head, when his hand suddenly pulled your hair. 

Your lips parted in surprise as he tugged you toward him, leaving no room for hesitation before his lips crashed against yours.

A breathless whimper escaped you, your eyes widening for only a second before they fluttered shut. His fingers tightened around the hair above your nape, angling your head exactly how he wanted it, his kisses deep, hungry, and impatient.

The bitter trace of beer lingered on his tongue, flooding your senses until your thoughts blurred at the edges. Your body yielded without resistance, melting effortlessly against his as he drew you closer, the strength behind the movement making you feel almost weightless in his hold.

For a fleeting moment, you forgot your mission.

His tongue slipped against yours with practiced ease, stealing every coherent thought from your mind before instinct finally caught up. 

You slowly lifted your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the softness of his hair as though simply indulging in the kiss. Then, careful not to rush…they drifted lower, brushing over the warm skin of his nape before gliding toward the necklace resting against his neck.

“Open your mouth wider,” he rasped, pulling away just enough to speak. A string of saliva stretched between your mouths as his other hand slid around your neck…his long, tattooed fingers wrapping firmly around your throat in a possessive grip.

Your eyes widened…one of your hands remained tangled behind his nape, your fingers still toying with the chain around his neck, desperately searching for the tiny clasp hidden beneath his hair. 

Too distracted to obey his request… he suddenly tugged your hair harder.

A startled gasp escaped your lips, and he seized the opportunity—his tongue slipping hot and messy into your parted mouth, kissing you with a hunger that left you no chance to catch your breath.

You barely kissed him back, surrendering to the pace he set as your mind gradually emptied. Somehow, through the dizziness clouding your head, your fingertips continued their quiet search along the cool metal resting against his skin, praying to find the clasp before he noticed.

“Mmph!”

A soft whimper caught in your throat when he bit down harshly on your lower lip. The hand around your neck tightened, his fingers pressing deeper into your throat until your breath hitched, the pressure almost choking you.

“What are you doing?” he groaned, pulling you away from his lips before effortlessly lifting your entire body onto his lap. 

Large hands settled on your hips, guiding your legs to either side of him until you were straddling him completely, your dress riding embarrassingly higher over your thighs in the process.

“Hmm?” you murmured, blinking up at him through hazy eyes, your lips swollen and glistening from his relentless kisses.

He tilted his head, studying you in silence. 

The intensity of his gaze made something tighten inside your chest. Your confidence, already hanging by a thread, began to unravel beneath his eyes alone, and without thinking, your hands abandoned the necklace altogether, drifting back into his hair as though that had been your intention from the very beginning.

“Kiss me back,” he rasped.

A quiet breath of relief nearly escaped your lips. He hadn't noticed.

You offered him the sweetest smile you could manage before leaning in again, your heart pounding so violently you were certain he could feel it through your chest. You kissed him as carefully as you could, trying to mimic the way he'd kissed you only moments ago, parting his lips with hesitant eagerness, hoping it looked natural enough to fool him.

To your surprise, he let you…he didn't take control or deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply let you explore him at your own pace.

Heat crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks, embarrassment blooming beneath your skin as the realization slowly dawned on you. 

He wasn't following your lead. 

“Baby...” he chuckled between kisses, his tattooed hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, holding your face steady with a firm grip. “You're not kissing me properly.”

Embarrassment rushed through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy, your inexperience laid bare after only a few clumsy kisses. 

Determination quickly swallowed the humiliation. 

Before you could think twice, you leaned in again, kissing him with far more urgency than before, desperate to prove that you knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment he finally kissed you back, a breathless whimper nearly escaped you. 

He kissed you effortlessly, guiding the rhythm while you struggled to keep up, your breaths already turning shallow enough that you were certain you looked seconds away from hyperventilating.

Determined not to lose yourself completely, you bit down on his lower lip, earning a low, gravelly groan that vibrated against your mouth. The sound alone made your stomach flutter. Taking advantage of the distraction, your trembling hands drifted back to the chain around his neck, fingertips carefully searching beneath his hair for the tiny clasp.

Your eyes fluttered shut when he sucked on your tongue, warmth rushing across your ears and down your neck so quickly it almost burned. It was your first time being kissed like this—his kisses were shamelessly lewd, all heat and desperation. Saliva glistened between your mouths whenever he pulled away, only to capture your lower lip again with another lingering suck that stole the air from your lungs. 

Before long, the only sounds filling the car were the quiet, wet presses of your mouths and the uneven rhythm of your breathing.

You couldn't tell whether he was simply that good at kissing or if your lack of experience made every touch feel overwhelming. Either way, the way his hand remained wrapped around your jaw, firmly angling your head exactly where he wanted it, sent a shiver running down your spine.

A soft, helpless moan escaped your lips when you felt him spit into your mouth without breaking the kiss. The sensation sent heat unfurling through every inch of your body, your knees threatening to weaken even from where you sat on his lap. 

Your thoughts dissolved into a haze, and before you realized it, the fingers that had been so carefully searching for the clasp of his necklace had gone slack, your mission slipping further out of reach with every slow, lingering pull of his mouth.

“Grind on me.” he groaned.

Your eyes widened, before you could even process his words, both of his hands settled around the curve of your hips, guiding your body into a slow, deliberate roll against his lap.

“W-Wait—” 

His mouth found your neck, scattering soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled across your body as his lips traveled lower, his grip never once leaving your hips as he slowly rocked them back and forth, drawing helpless whimpers from your lips.

Heat rushed to your cheeks the moment you felt the firm outline of his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.

“Roll your hips, baby.” he grunted.

His teeth grazed your neck before his tongue soothed the sting, the cool metal of his lip piercing dragging lightly over your throat.

Your eyes squeezed shut…losing yourself completely as you followed the guidance of his hands, the subtle throbs of his cock impossible to ignore through the layers separating your bodies.

“That’s it,” he praised, looking down at your rolling hips.

“Oh, gosh…” you moaned.

You couldn't comprehend how dirty and lewd this was, grinding against a stranger's cock while convincing yourself that you wouldn't fuck him.

His clothed mushroom tip grazed the apex between your thighs as he guided your hips through another slow rub, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. A wave of warmth unfurled low in your stomach, spreading until it settled heavily between your legs.

Fuck, you were getting so wet.

Your body burned with a growing tension you didn't know how to quiet. The fabric of your panties clung uncomfortably against your cunt. When his hands finally cupped your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress, a shaky breath caught in your throat. 

Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shoulders for balance as he continued to maneuver your body with effortless ease.

“Oh my-”

His lips trailed lower…you sucked in a sharp breath when they reached the swell of your cleavage, your heart stumbling the moment you caught sight of his tongue slipping between the soft curve of your breasts, tasting the narrow valley created by the tight fabric hugging your chest.

“Hmm... so soft,” he murmured.

Before you could even process the praise, he leaned back just enough to gather saliva in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing before he leaned down and let a warm bead of spit fall between your breasts. It slowly trailed down the center of your cleavage, disappearing beneath the neckline of your dress.

A startled gasp escaped you, the shamelessness of it sent another rush of heat coursing through your body.

“Spread my spit, baby.” his voice dropped into a teasing murmur as he brushed a lingering kiss against your cheek. “I want you messy.”

He never stopped guiding your hips, slow, patient rubs against his lap while he watched you expectantly.

You swallowed thickly. It felt as though your body had slipped into a trance, your thoughts muffled beneath the haze he'd wrapped around you. 

Almost absentmindedly, your fingers found the warmth between your breasts, gathering the wetness before slowly spreading his spit across the soft skin of your cleavage, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes following every hesitant movement.

Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the gold chain resting against his collarbone.

The necklace!

For a split second, you wanted to slap yourself. 

You'd become so hopelessly lost in him that you'd nearly forgotten why you were here in the first place.

Trying to keep up the act, you smiled and gathered the warm trace of his spit onto your fingertips before slowly bringing them to your lips. A flicker of nervousness stirred in your chest as you parted your lips, letting your tongue glide languidly over your damp fingers, never once breaking eye contact with him.

His lips parted. “You like it?”

You nodded. “Hmm…”

“Want more?” he cooed, his voice rough with satisfaction. 

Your cheeks heated, a little self-conscious under the way he stared at you before leaning in to kiss you again. You whimpered when he spat into your mouth while kissing you, trying to focus as your hands finally found the chain around his neck. Your fingers worked quickly beneath the curtain of his hair, your heart pounding so violently you feared he would hear it.

Then—the clasp gave. 

Relief crashed over you.

You carefully eased the necklace free, letting the chain slip from your fingers onto the leather seat beside you with a faint clink before your hands returned to brace against his chest. 

Your pulse hammered in your throat, so distracted by stealing the jewelry that you didn't feel his fingers hooking beneath the thin straps of your black dress until they were already sliding down. Cool air kissed your skin a second before you realized the straps had fallen from your shoulders, the dress bunched at your waist, your bra laid bare beneath his dark, hungry stare.

"Ohh—" a moan ripped from your lips when his hands grabbed your tits through the bra, his palms kneading the soft flesh as his fingers pinched and rolled your stiff nipples through the thin lace. 

"So pretty," he praised, his eyes never leaving the swell of your breasts spilling over the cups.

His hand slid behind your back, his fingers flicking the clasp open. Your bra sprang loose, your tits bouncing free, your nipples peaked and aching.

“Keep grinding, baby.” he rasped.

Your hips moved before your brain could catch up, rolling against his lap. His hard cock formed a thick ridge beneath his pants, pressing right against your soaked panties. 

The delicious friction made your cunt leak, slick pooling in the gusset as each slow roll of your hips rubbed your clit across his length until your panties clung to your wet, chubby slit.

“Mhm,” you whined as his mouth locked onto one nipple, his tongue lapping at the bud before sucking hard, his teeth scraping lightly while his other hand squeezed your breast, his fingers twisting the neglected nipple until it throbbed.

Wet sounds filled the car—the slurp of his mouth around your nipple and the squelch of your dripping cunt rubbing against his cock through the fabric. 

You forced yourself to look down, your heavy-lidded eyes searching for anything that might help you finish what you had come here to do. Then your thigh brushed against the square outline beneath the fabric of his pants.

His wallet.

You drew in a shaky breath before rolling your hips against him with a little more desperation. A low groan vibrated against your nipple the moment he felt the change in your rhythm, the sound sending another wave of heat through your body. 

A helpless whine slipped from your lips as your own hands wandered over him, trying to appear just as consumed by the moment. Your palms skimmed over his shoulders, down the firm planes of his chest, and lower still, making you swallow hard at the realization of just how toned he felt beneath your touch.

“Ouch,” you whimpered when his teeth suddenly bit into your nipple.

He only chuckled against your skin.

The sting disappeared beneath a lingering kiss before he lifted his head just enough to murmur.

“Slow down, baby. You're gonna make me cum.” 

The teasing words had barely left his lips before his attention shifted back to your breast, his mouth closing around the swollen nipple with harsh, eager suction that made your thighs instinctively tense around him.

Even through the layers of his pants, you could feel how big and hard he was beneath you, the firm outline of his thick cock pressing insistently against your soaked panties with every shallow movement. 

Fuck, focus Y/N.

His wallet had shifted dangerously close to the edge of his pocket, almost slipping free from the constant movement of your bodies.

You rolled your hips against him again…another soft moan escaping your lips as the friction sent a dizzying pulse of pleasure through you. 

“Oh my…” 

For a fleeting second, you almost forgot the wallet, your body threatening to lose the battle your mind was still desperately trying to win.

“Baby…” he groaned harshly.

His hands tightened around your waist, pinning your hips firmly in place before you could move against him again.

Confused, you instinctively tried to move again, but his hand beat you to it. It slipped between your thighs before firmly cupping your pussy over your soaked panties, his palm pressing against your wet cunt as his fingers slowly dragged against the damp fabric. A soft, unmistakable squelch filled the quiet cabin, and your breath caught in your throat.

“I said stay still, fuck.” he whispered, mercilessly squeezing your pussy through the thin fabric until another helpless moan spilled from your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, your mouth falling open as his slow, deliberate touch only made you wetter, the soaked fabric sticking embarrassingly to your folds with every movement of his hand.

A startled gasp escaped you when his free hand suddenly rose to your face, firmly squeezing your cheeks together. 

“Keep your eyes open. Look at what I'm doing to you,” he commanded, his thumb finding your clit through the damp fabric and rubbing slow, lazy circles that sent a violent shiver through your body.

“Oh... gosh,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath. 

Your thoughts were beginning to dissolve all over again until something caught your eye.

His wallet had finally slipped free from his pocket, landing quietly on the leather seat beside him. Relief surged through you, and you almost smiled in triumph, the sight nearly distracting you from your mission's success.

Before you could dwell on it, he hooked a finger beneath the damp gusset of your panties, flipping the fabric aside just enough to expose your slick pussy. His fingertips returned, meeting your bare cunt directly, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact tore another breathless gasp from your lips.

Your eyes rolled back as his long fingers slowly rubbed against your sensitive cunt. The cool metal of his rings grazed your slit with every stroke, sending a sharp shiver through your body and drawing another helpless whimper from your throat.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Enjoying yourself?"

You could only nod, slow and breathless, your chest rising and falling beneath uneven breaths. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your face burning from every filthy thing you had let him do to you.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a whisper. "You like my fingers, baby?"

Before you could answer, his middle finger slowly pressed into your tight, untouched hole.

A broken whimper escaped you, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your body instinctively tensed around the unfamiliar stretch. For a fleeting second, your hand nearly came up to push him away, your inexperience heightening every overwhelming sensation. But he caught your face first, his fingers tightening around your cheeks, forcing your gaze back to him.

He inhaled softly before hollowing his cheeks, gathering saliva in his mouth, then leaned closer and messily spat between your parted lips.

"Swallow."

You obeyed without hesitation, your throat bobbing as you swallowed, your walls fluttering tightly around his finger at the command.

His hand slipped lower, lifting the hem of your skirt before his gaze settled between your thighs. He watched with quiet fascination as his finger slowly disappeared inside your virgin hole before drawing back out again, only to repeat the motion at an unhurried pace.

"You're so tight, baby." he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving your pussy. "When was the last time you fucked?"

The question alone nearly brought tears to your eyes, embarrassment burning through you just as intensely as the confusing mixture of pain and pleasure his touch continued to pull from your body.

“L-Long time ago.” 

As if Y/N! 

He licked his lower lip, a quiet whimper slipping past your lips as the pad of his middle finger reached deeper inside your warm tight hole. His movements remained slow until his fingertip brushed against your spongy spot, the sharp ache of the stretch gradually melting into a pleasure so warm it made your body soften around him.

"Aww, is that why you're so tight, baby?” he whispered.

God, this was so wrong.

“Maybe you need me to stretch your hole again, hmm?" he cooed, lowering his head until his lips wrapped around your swollen nipple, sucking gently while his finger continued to work deeper into your tight cunt.

"Y-Yes," you mumbled incoherently, your rational thoughts dissolving as your hips instinctively rolled forward, chasing the slow rhythm of his finger.

The moment he felt you move, his free hand settled firmly around your waist, stilling you with ease. He released your nipple with a soft pop before a quiet chuckle escaped him, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours with unmistakable amusement.

"Patience, baby. I'm still having fun."

A pout tugged at your lips, ready to answer back, but the words never came. His left hand slipped between your thighs instead, slowly parting your folds before drawing back the hood revealing your glistening clit, exposing it completely beneath his dark gaze.

"Wanna suck this clit so bad," he whispered, his gaze fixed between your thighs as your clit pulsed beneath the weight of his stare.

He leaned down and spat over it, a slow trail of saliva slipping down your slit until it met the middle finger buried inside your hole. A helpless whimper caught in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as he spread the saliva over your exposed clit with slow, pressured strokes, every messy rub sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

Both of his hands were devoted to you now. His tattooed fingers continued to work your tight hole with an unhurried rhythm while his other hand circled your swollen clit, spreading your growing wetness together with his saliva. His eyes never left your cunt, watching every tiny twitch, every shiver that rippled through you as though he wanted to memorize your pulsating pussy.

"You wanna cum?" he asked, lifting a brow as he watched your chest rise and fall with uneven breaths. His middle finger emerged coated in a thick ring of your white milky juices before disappearing back inside you, while your legs trembled uncontrollably beneath every slow sweep of his thumb across your swollen clit.

You nodded desperately, “Y-Yes…”

He pursed his lips, studying you for a long moment.

"You sure?"

"P-Please," you pleaded, your hips instinctively rolling in search of more.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" a small smile tugged at his lips, though there wasn't a trace of humor behind it.

Confusion barely had the chance to settle before he slowly inserted a second finger into your cunt.

A loud moan tore from your throat as the sudden stretch stole the air from your lungs. His fingers paused only briefly, allowing your body to adjust before they began to move together, scissoring you open with slow, rhythmic strokes while his other hand never stopped rubbing your clit.

The lingering ache of the stretch gradually melted beneath the mounting pleasure, your body surrendering to it completely. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around his hand, your back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Your eyes rolled back, your walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers while wave after wave of pleasure left your entire body trembling.

“Well done, baby.” he praised.

Even after the intensity began to ebb, your cunt continued to pulse around him, your legs still shaking from the aftershocks.

Only when your breathing had become nothing more than uneven gasps did he slowly withdraw his fingers from your hole, drawing another helpless whimper from your lips as the sudden emptiness met your lingering sensitivity.

Then he leaned in, his teeth grazed the shell of your ear in a soft bite before his lips brushed against it.

"I’m so proud." he whispered.

As your gaze drifted downward, it caught on the slight opening of his wallet, the sight striking you like a quiet reminder of why you had approached him in the first place.

Your fucking mission.

You bit down hard on your lower lip, gathering what little composure remained before forcing the words past your throat.

"C-Can I drink some water? I'm kinda thirsty," you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs were still trembling from your release, your heart pounding so loudly against your chest that you were certain he could hear it.

You expected him to refuse…Instead, he simply nodded.

"Hmm sure, baby. Let me get it for you."

His tongue swept across his lower lip before he gently tucked a few loose strands of hair away from your flushed cheeks, his touch unexpectedly tender as his eyes lingered on yours.

You swallowed hard, relief flooding through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy.

"I'll wait for you here," you said with a small smile, leaning forward just enough to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he stood.

His eyes narrowed, smiling a little, but there was something in them that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

The moment he climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him before disappearing into the noisy beer house in search of a bottle of water, you sprang into action. 

You quickly fixed your dress before reaching for the thick gold necklace that had slipped onto the leather seat during everything that had happened between the two of you. Your fingers wrapped around it before darting toward his wallet, still resting exactly where you had dropped it after deliberately sitting on it when you asked for water. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears as your gaze frantically swept across the interior of the car, searching for anything else of value. It didn't take long before your eyes landed on a small, heavy bag tucked beneath the passenger seat. 

Without wasting another second—or even bothering to look more....you snatched it as well, clutching the necklace, the wallet, and the bag tightly against your chest before quietly pushing the car door open.

With shaky, trembling hands, you slipped out of the vehicle and hurried toward the nearest sprawling tree beside the parking lot, its thick trunk shielding you from anyone who might glance in your direction. Only then did you allow yourself to stop, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as you hugged your stolen belongings close, desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart. 

The necklace alone felt expensive in your hands, its weight unmistakable, and you couldn't help but admire the rich gleam of the gold beneath the parking lot lights. 

This has to be high-karat. 

Your eyes practically sparkled at the thought, relief and triumph swelling inside your chest as you silently congratulated yourself. You had actually managed to steal from him without getting fucked... and without getting caught.

Almost.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you slipped the thick gold necklace into your pocket, the reassuring weight of it pressing against your thigh. 

Your attention soon drifted to the heavy bag you had grabbed from beneath the seat, curiosity getting the better of you. You crouched beneath the tree and slowly pulled the zipper open, your brows knitting together at the sight of something black and metallic nestled inside. 

Frowning, you reached to get a better look, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

It was a gun. 

What the fuck?

Your hands instantly began to shake. The bag slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that echoed far louder than it should have in the quiet of the parking lot. 

You stared at it in horror before your gaze darted to the wallet still clutched tightly against your chest, your pulse pounding so violently it made your fingers numb.

"Oh God... this is a bad idea," you whispered to yourself, panic clawing its way up your throat.

For one reckless moment, you considered running back, returning the necklace, the wallet, the bag….everything—and pretending none of this had ever happened. 

Maybe you could leave them inside his car before he noticed. Maybe you could still walk away.

But it was already too late.

If there was one thing Hanni had drilled into your head from the very beginning, it was this: once you stole something, you never gave it back. Going back wasn't bravery—it was stupidity. 

And stupidity was exactly how thieves got caught.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened his wallet, your brows immediately knitting together when an identification card tucked behind a gleaming gold badge came into view. 

Your stomach dropped. This wasn't a wallet at all—it was a badge holder. 

A cold chill crept down your spine as your fingers shakily flipped the leather, your eyes scanning every detail printed across the identification. The words blurred together at first, your racing heart making it impossible to focus, until your gaze landed on the line that mattered most.

CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT

Rank: Captain  | Name: Jeon Jungkook

For a long, terrifying second, your mind went completely blank, your pulse pounding so violently it drowned out every sound around you. 

"F-Fuck! Oh God—fuck!"

The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper as your hands shook so violently you could barely keep hold of the badge holder. 

Your breathing grew shallow, your mind racing through every possible escape, each one ending worse than the last. 

You stared at the polished badge in horror, your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest, when the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly reached your ears.

Panic surged through your body, and you instinctively turned, ready to run for your life, but a firm hand wrapped around your wrist before you could take a single step.

"Where are you going?" he asked with a quiet chuckle from behind you, amusement lacing his voice.

You froze.

Your gaze remained fixed straight ahead, too terrified to look back at him. Cold sweat trickled down your spine as your heartbeat thundered in your ears. 

The heavy bag still lay on the ground at your feet. The gold necklace weighed against your pocket. And clutched tightly between your trembling fingers was his badge holder, still opened to the identification that had shattered every ounce of confidence you had only moments ago.

You had been fucking caught.

Not just by any random stranger. 

But by a goddamn police captain.

"I got your water, baby," he said, his voice coated in quiet amusement. You flinched the moment the cold bottle brushed against the back of your thighs, the chill a cruel contrast to the heat of your panic.

"O-Officer, I—"

"You forgot something, didn't you?" he whispered against your ear, his grip never loosening around your wrist. 

The bottle of water lazily traced the length of your trembling thigh, as though he had all the time in the world.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs threatened to give out beneath you, hot tears gathering until they spilled freely down your cheeks. Every frantic thought crashed into the next, leaving you unable to form a single coherent sentence.

He leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting just below your ear.

"You forgot my wallet, baby." his voice dropped into a slow drawl. "That's my badge holder."

A broken sob caught in your throat. Your future flashed before your eyes in vivid, terrifying fragments. 

You could already see the cold metal of handcuffs locking around your wrists, the flashing red and blue lights, the backseat of a patrol car, a holding cell, your family finding out, your future slipping through your fingers before you had even been given the chance to fight for it. Everything you had worked so hard for, every dream you had stubbornly clung to despite your circumstances, all of it seemed to crumble into pieces in the span of a few unbearable seconds.

You had just thrown your entire life away.

“P-Please, I-’’

"Is my poor baby too dumb, or does that pretty little head of yours just want to get fucked?"

You shook your head frantically, tears spilling faster down your cheeks. "N-No, no, Officer, please... I'm sorry. It was a mistake—"

A startled gasp escaped you when he suddenly spun you around, your back pressing against the rough bark of the tree. Your tear-clouded eyes instantly met his dark ones, the amusement lingering in them only making the panic clawing at your chest grow worse.

He raised a brow, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment.

"Aww, look at you…so scared, baby." he cooed.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Want me to give you a chance?’’ he tilted his head.

Hope bloomed inside your chest so suddenly it almost hurt.

Jungkook took another step forward, his broad frame caging you against the tree until there was nowhere left to run. Your entire body trembled beneath his gaze, your heart pounding so violently you could barely hear yourself think, and you looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, clinging to the smallest possibility that he might actually let you go.

"P-Please, Officer… I-I'm sorry..." you stammered, the words tumbling over one another in your haste. "I-I know it was wrong, a-and that—"

‘’Run.” 

Your lips parted in disbelief.

"W-What?"

He slowly licked his lower lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that carried no warmth whatsoever. Stepping closer until there wasn't even a breath of space left between you, he brushed the pad of his thumb across your trembling lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Run, baby. Run as fast as you can.” his voice dropped into a low murmur, his tone as though he were talking to a child. "And when I catch you, I'm gonna take you to prison. I'll fuck you every day behind those rusty metal bars. I'll use your tight little pussy until your hole is gaping and leaking. Maybe I'll even let my comrades fuck you too. We'll take turns fucking that slutty, manipulative pussy of yours."

Desperation made people do reckless things. 

It silenced reason, drowned out fear, and left nothing behind but the instinct to survive.

You spun around and bolted before your mind had the chance to catch up, your legs carrying you as fast as they could through the dimly lit streets. Instead of following the brighter roads, you veered into the narrow, shadowed alleyways, your panicked thoughts convincing you that the light was far more dangerous than the dark. 

People could help you—but the moment they learned why you were running, they wouldn't see a terrified woman. 

They would see a thief.

A criminal…and they would hand you right back to him.

Your lungs burned, each desperate breath sharper than the last, your feet throbbing against the unforgiving pavement as you forced yourself to keep going. When a tall chain-link fence came into view, fear surged through your exhausted body. You stumbled toward it, your shaking hands already reaching for the metal, frantically searching for a way to climb over it.

You never got the chance.

A powerful hand suddenly seized both of your wrists from behind, wrenching them backward before you could react. A startled cry tore from your throat as your body was dragged away from the fence, only to be slammed against it a heartbeat later.

 “L-Let me go!” you cried.

The rough metal dug painfully into your cheek, your breath knocked from your lungs as he forced your arms higher behind your back. Then you heard it—

A sharp metallic click…cold steel closed around your wrist.

You were handcuffed.

He secured the other cuff around the metal fence, leaving your wrists restrained above your head. The cold steel bit into your skin as you instinctively struggled against it, your cheek pressed harshly against the chain-link, the rough metal scraping your flushed skin every time you tried to pull away. The handcuffs refused to budge, each desperate tug only making them dig in deeper.

"N-No... no, please," you cried, your voice breaking into helpless sobs.

Instead of hurting you, he reached up and gently combed a few loose strands of hair away from your face, the unexpected tenderness making your entire body flinch. His fingers lingered for a moment, idly twirling a lock of your hair around them before giving it a soft tug.

"Shh, it’s okay…" he said in a mocking tone.

"I-I’m sorry, please…I’ll do anything—"

The plea died on your lips when you felt him lower himself behind you.

“Anything, baby?” he whispered.

He settled onto one knee before slowly gathering the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until your damp panties were fully exposed beneath the cool night air. His large hands slid down to your thighs, spreading your legs apart with an effortless firmness that left your body trembling against the restraint. 

Your eyes widened as you pulled uselessly at the handcuffs, your legs instinctively trying to close, but there was nowhere to go. A warm tongue suddenly pressed against the fabric between your thighs, dragging slowly over your sticky panties.

His nose remained buried in your tight hole, drawing in a slow, deep breath as though savoring every scent of you. His tongue dragged languidly along your slit from behind, the damp fabric of your panties doing little to dull the sensation.

"O-Oh gosh-" you cried, fresh tears spilling down your flushed cheeks as you felt him inhale against your clothed cunt again. His tongue swept over you once more, leaving your panties even wetter than before.

“Let me play with you.” he murmured before diving in.

You bit down hard on your lip, another wave of warmth pooling between your thighs despite yourself. More tears slipped from your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure tangling with the fear coursing through your body.

I am not enjoying this, I am not-

A low groan rumbled behind you as he spread your legs farther apart. His pointed nose brushed against your puckered hole, inhaling deeply. 

You craned your neck to look around, but there was no one in sight. Only the lonely yellow glow of a streetlamp stretched across the empty street, casting long shadows around the two of you.

When he flipped your panties aside, you instinctively tried to close your legs, but a startled gasp escaped your lips as his palm suddenly came down against your inner thigh with a sharp smack, the sting urging your legs back open for him.

“Open up for me, baby. Let me taste your little pussy,” he murmured, giving your thigh another light tap as he silently coaxed you to spread yourself wider.

You were getting wetter, but the thought of someone's tongue directly against your pussy was beyond your virgin imagination.

When you still didn't move, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.

You felt him rise behind you, the warmth of his body disappearing for only a brief moment before the unmistakable click of metal made your breath hitch. Before you even had the chance to turn your head, the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against your temple.

A broken cry caught in your throat, your entire body trembling. 

“W-What-”

"Spread your legs."

His voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation. The barrel pressed more insistently against your temple, and with another shaky sob, your knees slowly fell farther apart.

A satisfied hum vibrated from his chest. Only then did he pull the gun away, tucking it back into the holster at the back of his belt before lowering himself between your thighs once more. His hands wrapped around them, holding you open exactly how he wanted, and the moment he buried his face between your legs, a deep groan escaped him.

“Oh, gosh!” you moaned.

You were already leaking, his broad tongue dragged slowly up and down your chubby, swollen folds before slipping between them, teasing your slit as it delved deeper, massaging your inner walls with slow, deliberate strokes that only left you wetter.

“Pretty.” he leaned back and spat onto your cunt, watching the thick strand of saliva mingle with your slick wetness. “Do you regret what you did, baby?”

His fingers hooked beneath your outer lips, spreading them apart just enough to watch his saliva disappear deeper into your cunt. He spat again, his gaze fixed on the way it slipped between your folds, leaving your sensitive inner walls glistening.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned shamelessly, the torture only making you wetter.

“Would you let me do anything I want?” he asked, staring at your fluttering cunt.

You bit your lip, feeling your milky juices drip from every degrading thing he'd been saying to you.

“Yes.” you said in a tiny voice.

He chuckled, “You wanted to be used like this, didn't you?” 

He leaned in, his tongue flattening as he licked from your perineum to your clit in one slow, vulgar stroke, spreading his spit until his own drool began to trail down his chin. 

“You wanted this…you sat on my lap, ground your filthy cunt against my cock, acted like a good little decoy so you could rob me. But your hole's been thanking me the whole time, hasn't it?”

You shut your eyes tightly when you felt him continuously spitting on your cunt, your pussy was getting so wet that you felt it dripping on your inner thighs down to your ankles.

He held your folds apart, leaving you completely exposed for his hungry gaze. Leaning back, he watched the way they trembled and pulsed beneath his eyes before leaning down again, his tongue already darting out to lap up every drop of your juices. Each time he swallowed, he would only spit over you again, coating you until you were slick enough for him to start all over.

Your eyes widened as the muzzle of the gun pressed against your inner thigh, cool, unforgiving steel sending a shiver through your body. It slowly slid higher until it settled against your entrance, the tip quickly growing slick with your wetness.

"O-Officer—"

“Shh, you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? To rape your thief little pussy.” he mocked, his eyes fixed on the way the tip of the gun glistened with your milky juices as he slowly dragged it up and down your chubby slit.

Desperation was a frightening thing. 

It stripped away reason piece by piece until all that remained was the helpless anticipation of whatever came next.

When you didn't answer, too absorbed in the feeling of the foreign gun against your pussy, he pressed it harder against you, drawing a pained whimper from your lips as tears stung your eyes.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you," he said firmly, applying just a little more pressure.

"Y-Yes," you whimpered.

He tilted his head. "Yes, what?"

You bit your lip. "Y-Yes, O-Officer."

He hummed in approval before pulling the gun away. His tongue darted out to taste the tip, sucking your wetness from the cold metal before releasing it with a soft pop.

A low groan rumbled from his chest as he buried himself between your thighs once more, diving back into your exposed pussy with relentless hunger. The obscene sounds of slurping, sucking, and the occasional spit echoed through the place, each one making you feel weaker, more helpless beneath him.

You bit down hard on your lip as you felt your orgasm creeping closer. You tried to hold it back, to keep control, but your body betrayed you. 

Every flick of his tongue, every slow suck, every warm trail of spit sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your pussy convulse beneath his tongue. 

“F-Fuck-” you whimpered.

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your arms ached against the restraints, and your eyes rolled back as the pulsing sensation deep within you grew stronger with every passing second. You wanted to pull away from his mouth, to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his grip remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted as he sucked out every last tremor, refusing to let you move even as the overstimulation left your body trembling.

“Mhm, you taste so good, baby,” he whispered, leaning back just enough to pinch your folds together, as though squeezing every last drop of your milky white juices from your pussy before leaning in again to catch it on his tongue.

A helpless whimper escaped your lips. Your legs were on the verge of giving out beneath you, your arms still held captive by the restraints while your pussy throbbed with overwhelming sensitivity. As he rose to his feet, his palm landed against your cunt in a careless slap, making you flinch before he lazily wiped the sheen of your juices from the corner of his mouth.

His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through the strands before tightening into a firm fist. He tugged until your head tipped back, exposing the line of your throat, and his lips brushed against your tear-dampened cheek.

“Wanna steal more, baby?”

His grip twisted tighter, pulling your head back until your neck arched painfully. 

He slowly dragged his tongue along the salty trail of your tears, licking your cheek with slow strokes, savoring the taste of your cries as another quiet hum of approval rumbled in his chest.

You whimpered, your body trembling as you felt the hard outline of his clothed bulge press against the plush of your ass. He slowly ground his erection against you, a low grunt vibrating beneath your ear while his hand kept a firm hold on your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to suck and leave harsh bites along your neck.

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered, grinding his cock more firmly against your bare ass. “My money? My jewelry?”

“O-Officer-”

His fist tightened in your hair, forcing another helpless whimper from your lips as he dragged his tongue along your throat, feeling the way you swallowed hard beneath him. “You wanted all of it, didn't you?”

His teeth sank into your neck once more as his clothed bulge rutted harder against the cleft of your ass, the seam of his pants catching against your skin with every slow roll of his hips. At the same time, his free hand slipped beneath your dress, yanking the fabric higher before grabbing a full handful of your bare ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

"My pretty, pretty thief," he praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his hips rolled against you with even more force.

He wrenched his pants open just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the heated length slapping against one ass cheek before the other. Pre-cum glistened over the swollen tip as he slowly ground the shaft along the plush curve of your ass, coating your skin with every deliberate roll of his hips.

"Feel that? I'm so hard for you, baby."

A helpless mewl slipped past your lips as you weakly shook your head, your entire body trembling while he continued rubbing against your ass.

“Fuck, you make me so fucking horny.” he grunted.

Your cheeks burned crimson, the same flush spreading across your neck, and another whimper escaped you when he suddenly jerked your head back by the hair. 

"Grind back, baby, or I'll fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You cried harder, your body trembling as you reluctantly began to move your ass against his cock. A deep groan escaped him, his right hand settling firmly on your hip as he looked down, watching the way his hard length slid slowly through the cleft of your ass with every hesitant grind.

He spat over the curve of your ass for added lubrication, and a helpless cry caught in your throat when you felt the warm saliva land against your puckered rim. Despite the humiliation, your pussy only grew wetter.

His tattooed hand suddenly snaked around your waist, trailing lower until it reached your cunt. You gasped as his fingers cupped your pussy before hooking between your folds, spreading your lips apart into a lewd V-shape for him to admire.

“Look down and watch your clit, baby.” he rasped, tilting your head down so your gaze fell between your legs.

“P-Please...” you croaked, your body growing weaker by the second, your pussy aching for more even as the rest of you threatened to give out.

“Wanna be fucked so bad, huh?”

You gasped as his middle finger suddenly pushed between the V-shaped hold of his fingers, slipping inside your tight cunt. Your walls fluttered helplessly around the thick digit as he slowly worked it deeper.

“Oh! Mhmp!” you screamed.

His cock left your ass, the slick tip dragging slowly down until it notched against your entrance, smearing pre-cum and his spit over your swollen folds.

“Gonna fuck you good, baby…you’ve been a very bad girl.” he yanked your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue traced a slow path from your neck to the shell of your ear. “Need to fuck some sense into you, hmm?’’

“Mhmp!” you whimpered.

“Shh... moan for me, baby. It'll feel good.” his finger pressed deeper one last time, stretching your walls before he slowly withdrew it. The emptiness lasted only a heartbeat before he replaced it with the thick, leaking head of his cock, nudging its way against your entrance.

“Ahhh!” you screamed at the sudden stretch, his thick cock forcing its way into your tight pussy until you could feel every pulsing vein dragging against your walls as he pushed deeper.

He thrust halfway, then stopped, watching your cunt spasm around him, a thin ribbon of milky white release clinging to his shaft like a ring. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he slowly pulled back before driving into you harder, bottoming out in one deep thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass hard enough to make the fence rattle.

“Need to use this cunt every day. Maybe I’ll let my comrades fuck this tight little cunt so they can loosen you up for me, yeah?” he grunted, pushing even deeper until his balls rested snug against your cunt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against the curve of your ass with every shallow grind.

“U-Ugh, p-please...” you screamed, trying to wriggle, but he only answered with a low grunt against your ear. Then, without warning, he withdrew his cock completely.

For one fleeting moment, you thought he was finally going to let you go.

But your eyes widened the instant you heard the unmistakable clink of his leather belt being unclasped.

Your eyes widened as you felt him wrap the leather around your neck, fastening it just snug enough for him to tug whenever your cries grew too loud, cutting off your words with every sharp pull.

“Behave, baby.” he chuckled, easing himself inside you once more while keeping a firm grip on the belt for leverage. Every now and then, he gave it another deliberate tug, silencing your screams as his hips continued to drive into you.

The moment his hips began to roll against yours, your eyes fluttered back, pleasure blooming beneath the sting until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. 

“O-Oh, O-Officer!” a shaky sob escaped your lips, born as much from the humiliation as the sensation itself. Your pussy ached for more, clenching helplessly around his thick girth, betraying you with every pulse.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from behind you. His arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he circled his hips into yours, each relentless thrust threatening to lift your body off your feet.

“Is my baby enjoying this?” he whispered, giving the leather another measured yank, just enough to cut your sob short. The strap bit into the flushed skin of your throat as his hips snapped forward again, his balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every forceful thrust.

“This is turning you on, huh?”

You shook your head, but your pussy only grew wetter, your cries slowly dissolving into helpless moans as he continued to fuck you from behind.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered.

“N-No, Officer.” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you gave a slow, trembling shake of your head.

“Yeah? You like getting used?”

He gave the belt another sharp tug, cutting off your whimpers before loosening it just enough to let a broken moan spill from your lips. Then he drove into you even deeper, his mushroom tip grinding against your spongy walls until you could feel your own milky juices coating his shaft.

"Gonna lock you up in a cell, baby… you'll be the precinct's little fucktoy."

The moment his thick head brushed against your g-spot, your entire body spasmed around his cock. A harsh groan tore from his throat as your walls clamped down on him, forcing him to pull out almost immediately. His movements turned urgent, one hand fumbling for the keys clipped to his belt while the other steadied you. Your hazy eyes fluttered shut as you felt the handcuffs finally come undone from your wrists.

You thought he was done.

A weak gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly flipped you over to face him, your exhausted arms falling limply to your sides as he stripped away the rest of your dress. Without a word, he lifted you with effortless strength and pinned you against the cold metal fence before guiding his hard cock back inside you. A broken whimper slipped from your throat at the oversensitivity left behind by your previous orgasm, your body instinctively tensing around him as his mouth found your exposed nipples, sucking them greedily while he chased his own release.

Your body bounced helplessly with every powerful thrust, like a toy being used exactly as he pleased. Your tongue nearly lolled from your parted lips, your mind reduced to nothing but scattered pleasure as his larger frame manhandled yours with ease. Low grunts and strained moans vibrated against your swollen nipples, each sound muffled by the way his mouth refused to leave them.

A rough growl tore from his throat as his climax finally overtook him. You felt the thick warmth of his release spilling deep inside your already used hole, his hips continuing to roll against yours in slow, deep motions, as though determined to push every last drop of his cum even deeper. 

“Fuck, baby,” his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your breast, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the lingering waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Some of it trickled down the insides of your thighs, warm against your skin. Your eyes fluttered, barely able to stay open…your body hanging limply in his grasp.

When he finally set you back on your feet, your legs nearly gave out beneath you. Before you could steady yourself, he was already kneeling between your thighs again, firmly spreading them apart as though he hadn't just reduced them to trembling. 

“W-Wait-” you panicked.

A helpless cry escaped your lips when his mouth found your swollen pussy once more, lapping up the mixture of his release and your milky wetness, slurping every drop with relentless hunger. The overstimulation sent your body reeling, your clit already so unbearably sensitive that the moment his tongue slid upward to wrap around it, your pussy pulsed against his mouth, another orgasm crashing through you before you could stop it.

He looked up at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching every twitch and shudder that overtook your body as you came around his mouth. 

You could see the way his cheeks hollowed with every slow suck on your clit, and somehow the sight of his discarded gun and badge lying carelessly on the floor beside him made the moment feel even dirtier—

A police officer on his knees, devotedly eating out the very thief he had caught.

Only when he was satisfied did he rise to his feet. His hand slipped into your hair, gently tugging you toward him until his lips claimed yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you with greedy desperation. Your eyelids grew heavy, your knees threatening to buckle again, your body barely able to remain upright.

You flinched when you felt his hardened cock brush against your inner thighs even as he continued kissing you, a wave of panic surging through your exhausted body. Your pussy already felt swollen and unbearably sensitive, every nerve still humming from the relentless orgasms he had pulled from you.

As though sensing the fear creeping into your expression, he let out a low chuckle, slowly pulling away from your lips to study your face.

"Aww, is my baby tired?" he cooed, the words dripping with mock honey as he nudged your chin upward. 

You shook your head, your body instinctively yielding to whatever he was going to do next.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he bit down on his lower lip, your quiet submission enough to make his cock throb.

"Kneel for me."

Your knees trembled beneath you as you slowly lowered yourself, a startled gasp escaping your lips the moment the swollen tip dragged a lazy streak of pre-cum across your cheek.

"Open up, baby…daddy's not done." he gathered your hair into one hand with a gentleness that belonged to a lover rather than the man standing before you, tilting your face toward his groin, a smile tugging at his lips that never quite reached the darkness in his eyes.

"Clean up the mess you made, hmm? Open wide for Officer."

The swollen head nudged past your lips, and a mock-pitying sigh slipped from him as your mouth slowly yielded around his cock, your tongue flattening instinctively beneath the weight before a helpless gag caught in your throat.

"There, there," he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair. "Suck nice and slow, pretty girl."

He began to rock his hips into your mouth in slow, shallow thrusts, while his free hand continued to pet your hair with a tenderness so painfully at odds with the degradation spilling from his lips.

"That's it, baby," he praised softly. "Tongue flat, like the dumb, cute slut you are."

He pushed his cock deeper until the swollen mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat, the prominent veins along his shaft dragging against the roof of your mouth with every slow thrust, the upward curve making each movement reach even deeper.

"I can give you everything you want, baby," he whispered, a groan slipping past his lips as his thrusts gradually became sloppier, his grip on your hair tightening with every push. Saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth as you fought the urge to choke, wet, muffled gargles escaping your throat each time he buried himself deeper. Your eyes burned, quickly turning red as tears pooled along your lash line.

He cradled your hair once more, the tenderness of the gesture clashing with the relentless pace of his hips.

"I can provide for you... spoil you with all of my money," he murmured, easing himself forward until your nose brushed against the coarse hair at his pelvis. 

He held your face snugly in place for a brief moment before slowly rolling his hips, then gently pulled you back just enough to let you catch your breath, his saliva-slick cock dragging across your flushed cheeks.

"Do you want that?" he asked, tilting his head as he lazily ground his cock against your swollen cheek.

You nodded eagerly, your tear-filled eyes never leaving his.

He chuckled, giving your cheek a light tap with the head of his cock. "Do you understand me, baby?"

You pouted…your cheeks burning red, your eyes swollen, your lips wet with his precum. 

“Mhm..” 

“Mhm?” he chuckled.

He bit his lower lip as he stared down at you, quietly admiring the mess he'd made. “Cute.” 

Without warning, he yanked your head forward until he was fully seated inside your mouth, your nose pressed into his pubic hair as his balls slapped against your chin with each shallow roll of his hips.

"Gurk—gurk—"

You choked around him, tears immediately spilling down your cheeks, but the only response he gave was a deep groan as he slowly began to fuck your face, each thrust forcing another muffled gargle from your throat.

"Fuck, baby...I'm gonna cum."

He pulled out just enough to lean down and spit onto your tongue before pushing his cock back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, the loose belt still hanging around your neck, its end dragging through the dirt every time your head was forced forward.

You gagged helplessly around him, your cheeks hollowing as your eyes rolled back, your head rocking back and forth with every relentless thrust while he used your mouth however he pleased. And when you felt his rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts growing rougher and increasingly sloppy, he suddenly pulled free with a low groan. Before you could even catch your breath, he hauled you to your feet, one arm wrapped firmly around your body as he guided his cock against your cunt, his other hand positioning himself before pushing his hard cock back into your tight hole.

“I’m gonna cum inside baby, a reward for being a good little toy for daddy.”

A broken cry escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering the moment he came. Thick, warm spurts filled you one after another while your body trembled from the lingering overstimulation, his hips continuing to jerk and roll against yours as he emptied every last drop inside you.

"These are worth thousands, Y/N! Oh my God."

Hanni's eyes widened in utter disbelief, her gaze sweeping across the worn wooden table as though she couldn't decide which stolen treasure to look at first.

A thick leather wallet, its compartments stuffed with crisp bills. Heavy gold necklaces lay tangled together beside matching rings, each piece gleaming with the unmistakable richness of high-karat gold. A limited-edition watch rested nearby, its polished face catching the kitchen light with every slight movement. And a duffel bag overflowed with expensive perfumes, bottle after bottle worth more than most people's monthly salary.

A slow smile tugged at your lips as your gaze wandered over Jungkook's belongings scattered across the table.

You never told Hanni that you'd gotten caught. 

Instead, you let her believe everything had gone according to plan.

Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

He had given you far more than you had ever planned on stealing.

Tucked beneath your bed, hidden inside an old shoebox, were stacks of cash and signed checks worth enough to keep you comfortable for a long while—buying you the time to find a better path for yourself.

You hadn't even told Hanni about them.

Not because you didn't trust her, but because you knew the moment she saw that kind of money, questions would follow. Questions you couldn't answer without admitting where it had come from. So you kept the cash hidden, the checks tucked safely beneath it, and carried the secret alone.

He still hadn't turned you over to the authorities, even though it was painfully obvious he'd known exactly what kind of person you were from the very beginning.

From the moment he'd let you reach for the clasp of his necklace, he'd already known.

No high-ranking police officer—especially not a captain…would've failed to notice what you were trying to do. He had seen through you from the very beginning, long before you'd ever managed to slip a single thing into your hands.

Why did he let you?

You smiled seductively, slipping the watch and wallet beneath your dress before taking another sip of your now-warm beer, your gaze lingering on your target, who was far too drunk to notice the way your attention had never truly been on him.

Perhaps you hadn't changed.

Because here you were, stealing again…chasing the same thrill, the same rush, while somewhere beneath every excuse you made for yourself, another reason quietly waited.

Maybe you wanted to see him again.

You left the crowded club with the stolen watch and wallet hidden beneath your dress, weaving through the lingering crowd until the music faded behind you. The cool night air greeted your flushed skin as you made your way toward the smoking area, where you and Hanni had agreed to meet.

You had been stealing for six months now. 

You managed to steal from a shopping mall, a restaurant, a boutique, and even a high-end store—your usual targets where men were rarely involved.

Tonight, you decided to try flirting again…attempting to seduce someone despite the fact that your only experience had been with him.

Before you could even pull out your phone to text Hanni, someone pushed you against the cold brick wall.

Familiar dark, round eyes stared back at you, the same pierced lips curled around a cigarette as smoke drifted lazily into the night. Tattooed arms caged you in on either side, leaving nowhere for you to go.

Your eyes widened.

Seeing him dressed in the crisp navy uniform of a police captain stole the air from your lungs. 

Gold captain's bars gleamed from the epaulets on his shoulders, while a polished metal badge rested proudly over his chest. His duty belt sat low around his waist, crowded with the familiar weight of handcuffs, a radio, holster, and the rest of the equipment that came with his authority. The neatly pressed fabric, the black tie tucked beneath the collar, the nameplate pinned above his pocket—it all transformed the man you remembered into someone far more intimidating.

Power looked infuriatingly good on him.

Before you could utter a single word, his left hand slipped under your dress. Your breath caught as his fingers found the watch and wallet strapped against your thigh with effortless precision.

“Looks like my baby didn't learn her lesson, hmm?”

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[jungkakes]

I Got Ways - Pt 3 | Jeongguk x Reader [18+]

Chapter 3: Crazy Matches Crazy.

Pairing: ex boyfriend jeongguk x female reader

Warnings: sex with your ex, established relationship, mafia/assassin jeongguk, guns, unprotected sex, dirty talk (i think?), fingering - f receiving, oral - f receiving, he eats the kitty from the back, toxic and annoying jeongguk again, this manipulating ass man i lowk hate him, getting manhandled by jk, me talking about how HUGE jk is, size difference, brat taming, slight choking, spitting, invasion of your privacy meaning he’s snooping through your work computer, power play but not really bc reader folded like a pretzel too fast, and again, the two of them just being dumb.

Word count: 19,743

Summary: Some ghosts don't haunt houses. They haunt people.

Cross posted on AO3

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My Twitter

Other work: Make Me Water - JiKook x Reader

I Got Ways - Part 1

I Got Ways - Part 2

***Honestly I have no other reason for making a part 3 except for the fact that I'm super easy and I fall for anyone that gives me praise. I'm like a wild rabid starving animal for it. So, for those of you that complimented my writing, this is for you. Look what you've done! You did this! Also, I edited this a thousand times but I kept getting distracted so I apologize for the errors. I know I'm gonna kick myself when I read this shit in the morning and see all the mistakes. I'm sorry***

Inspired by:

Jeongguk killed the engine to his motorcycle. The roar fading into the busy pulse of the city.

Traffic rolled through the intersection without pause. A crowded bus hissed to a stop at an even more crowded bus shelter. Car horns echoed somewhere further down the street. Salary men and women hurried by with coffees and briefcases in their hands while a group of laughing teens lingered outside a store. 

This city was completely unaware of the violence that often moved amongst them unnoticed.

Jeongguk pulled off his helmet. Running a hand through the black strands of hair flattened by the ride before peeling off his leather gloves one finger at a time. 

Sharp eyes scanned his surroundings while his attention never left the gallery across the street at the same time. He pulled his sunglasses over his eyes while he leaned back on the seat of his bike. The leather seat groaning with his weight. He adjusted the glasses that blocked out the sunrays. Black rims. Black lenses. Just like the graveyard his soul lived in. 

A quiet crackle sounded in an earpiece resting within his ear canal and Jeongguk sighed out, "We need to wrap this shit up before six." He murmured, fingers at his ear to adjust the nearly microscopic piece of technology lodged comfortably in the space. 

From somewhere else far in the city, 감시자 (Gamsija or The Watcher) snorted into the earpiece, "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You gotta go walk Pebbles and have dinner with your girlfriend on her balcony. Busy man you are."

"Shut up." Jeongguk grumbled as he shoved his gloves into a compartment behind his seat and swung a leg off his bike as he stepped off, “She’s not my girlfriend anymore.” He continued, hands on the handles of the bike and pivoting it while he deployed the kickstand. 

"No?"

"No."

The Watcher hummed right into the earpiece then out came a snap of laughter, "Yeah. Suuuuuure. Okay." He sighed out dreamily and Jeongguk heard him shuffling papers around before he continued, “Those home cooked meals I see you inhaling could say otherwise.” And right on queue, the rustling of a bag could be heard opening from the other end of the feed, “I’d kill for a warm meal.” The Watcher crunched into his mic with his mouth full. 

Jeongguk didn't even bother denying what The Watcher said. There wasn’t any use in lying when the eyes of Haegeum saw everything anyways. He could have come up with a remark. Using his sharp tongue to quip back an insult but in reality, he was just not in the mood today for jokes. Instead, he started to make his way to the art gallery’s entrance. Eyes catching his reflection moving through the large windows of the building. 

There was something inherently menacing about the way Jeongguk carried himself. With his head held high. Stride unhurried. Just… Terrifyingly sexy. 

Being large and in charge was one thing but the way he looked was another. His appearance resembled the ghosts the underworld spoke of in hushed voices. A specter woven into the city's underbelly. Seen only by those unlucky enough to cross his path. 

The quiet through his earpiece lasted for about twenty seconds before he heard the sputter of static again and then that annoying, grating voice came through, "Sooo... you and Shadow good again? Back together maybe? Finally? Hopefully?"

Jeongguk exhaled through his nose sharply and didn’t answer. He didn’t even acknowledge the questions. He did a good job with ignoring the annoying little voice coming through his earpiece. Mostly because Gwishin and Gamsija had been working together for well over a decade. Their brotherhood and friendship stretched far beyond just work and quite frankly, Jeongguk had grown used to having that voice rambling in his ear. So, he did what he knew best. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. And hope The Watcher would give up. 

He pushed open the gallery doors and stepped inside into cool air and muted light. The hush of meticulous silence swallowed the street noise behind him. Dulling the bustle of the city life completely. 

The earlier question was left hanging in his earpiece like a thread he refused to touch because Jeongguk couldn't call anything the two of you were doing getting back together per se since that would imply the two of you had never truly been broken up in the first place. 

But ever since the night he was ordered to walk Mrs. Grey’s dog, he somehow ended up coming back to your place and staying for dinner afterwards. Then he found himself back there almost every evening since. Sometimes for a meal. Sometimes for a drink. Sometimes just to sit outside on your balcony in comfortable silence while the city buzzed beneath you both. All under the guise that he had to walk a damn dog. 

He never spent the night. Never overstepped any imaginary boundary between the two of you either. Jeongguk knew better than that. He had never been the type to reach for things he knew he shouldn’t have... No matter how badly he wanted them. 

And with you, he was always careful. Careful with his words. With his hands. With the way his eyes hung onto you when you weren’t looking. He never asked for more than what you gave him. Never tried to turn an evening into morning. Or a quiet visit into something more. 

There were no conversations about labels. There were no promises. There was simply an unspoken understanding that, when the day was over, Jeongguk knew exactly where he wanted to be. It felt... good. Different. But good. 

"I take your silence as confirmation." Came that voice through his ear again. 

Jeongguk again offered no response. He simply kept walking. His gaze stayed fixed ahead as he continued down a corridor. The earpiece remained quiet for a moment, the voice on the other end apparently accustomed to his lack of response.

Silence had always been easier. People filled silence with whatever they wanted to believe and Jeongguk had long since learned there was power in letting them decide. And the voice in his ear piece never pressed him for more. The Watcher simply accepted the absence of an answer for exactly what it was meant to be.

"I'm just saying…" The Watcher continued, "I know everything. There's a reason they call me what they do."

Jeongguk sighed under his breath, "You don't know everything."

"I know enough. I know that you parked outside the gallery on the corner near a run down hardware store. Between a blue shitbox and a stop sign. I know you already got three security guards inside. One’s pretending to read a brochure by the east entrance. Aaaand I know you're exactly thirteen minutes ahead of schedule."

The Watcher had earned his nickname for a reason. If Haegeum needed to know something, their eyes already did. The Haegeum Network stretched across the city the same way veins pulsed beneath skin. Information flowed to The Watcher before most people even realized it existed.

Unfortunately, the gift came attached to a man whose voice always grated Jeongguk’s ears. He never knew how to shut up. Never knew boundaries and certainly did not care that he pushed past the point of professionalism when it came to Jeongguk. Or any of the other Haegeum members for that matter. 

He had a voice that drifted through the earpiece like a siren's song. Smooth enough to make anyone listen. And sharp enough like the tongue of a viper carrying venom. 

And aside from all of the one sided yapping, The Watcher wasn’t someone to mess with. He had the skills of a mad scientist when it came to using technology. And the face of an absolute angel. With long blonde hair. Full lips. A cute crooked front tooth. And rosy cheeks to match. Jeongguk often wondered why he didn’t pursue the career of being anything fucking else rather than joining The Network. But alas, there was never a reason to join Haegeum. You were simply born into it. 

"You ever think about talking less?" Jeongguk snapped. 

"Never.”

Jeongguk's jaw tightened and flexed before he grunted out, "Don't ask me about her."

That answer was enough. But not enough to shut The Watcher up completely. A knowing grin spread across The Watcher’s face despite Jeongguk being miles away and then another question came through the feed of his earpiece, 

"Does she know you're here?"

"No."

"Gonna join her lecture again?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

Jeongguk's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. Across the hall, the man he had been waiting on finally emerged from the gallery's side entrance, speaking into his phone as he headed toward the main hall.

The mission had started.

"Gotta go."

The line went dead before The Watcher could squeeze in another question. He laughed to himself anyway. Jeongguk had answered "no" a little too quickly both times. That usually meant the answer wasn't nearly as simple as he wanted it to be.

Jeongguk adjusted his sunglasses as he moved forward, expression stoic. The lenses over his eyes darkened as they activated from The Watcher’s side. A faint pulse syncing immediately with the feed so that The Watcher could see everything through Jeongguk’s  eyes. 

The world shifted and then his sight doubled. Mirrored through The Watcher’s system somewhere across the city. And inside the earpiece after another three whole seconds of silence came a slow, appreciative hum followed by a “…Damn.”

“Can you see properly?” Jeongguk asked with a flat voice. 

“Ohhh yeahhhhh. Crystal.” Watcher replied, distracted for a second by Jeongguk’s reflection in a mirror hanging along the gallery’s wall, “Got your feed. Got the whole gallery. Even got your target breathing too loudly on your six.” Then Watcher added because he simply couldn’t help himself, “But seriously? How are you that built?”

Jeongguk finally tilted his head slightly, adjusting his jacket as he stepped closer to the reception’s desk, “Man, can you shut up and focus?”

“Oh, I am focusing.” Watcher said immediately. His voice sounding offended on principle, “I’m focusing on the fact you look like you’ve gone full borg.”

Jeongguk clicked his tongue, “Stop playin’ games.” He spat. Behind his sunglasses, his reflection shimmered faintly through the mirror in front of him and his lips twitched just a smidge. Full borg. What a nerd. He let out a disgruntled sigh and then said, “Just keep your eyes on the damn building.” 

Gamsija laughed softly, still watching him through every available angle of the city before he hummed out, “Boss, I am the fucking building.” He shrilled with laughter, his voice sliding back into that effortless Watcher cadence, “I am the eyes of this city.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jeongguk grumbled. Eyes on the array of priceless art pieces hanging along the walls of the gallery with a look of distaste spread across the canvas of art that was his own face. 

Jeongguk fucking hated art. He hated the silence. Hated the beige walls. And he truly hated the pretentious little plaques beside every painting that somehow took two hundred and fifty words to explain what could have been summed up in three simple words, it's fuckin’ trash.

And he especially hated art galleries. Which was unfortunate because he had been coming to this one every Wednesday and Friday for the past six weeks.

He looked completely out of place here yet he managed to blend in seamlessly with the crowds at the same time. With his black combat boots thundering against the polished floors. Tight black jeans showing off muscular thighs. A fitted black t-shirt glued to his abdomen and making every ridge and dip of muscle show. Worn beneath a sleek leather jacket that had seen more nights than mornings. Dark sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose despite the gallery being flooded with natural light. He hardly took the sunglasses off. Never indoors. Certainly not outdoors. Not in meetings. And not even when the sky was fucking grey. 

And of course, on his face the Gwishin wore a frown. A very deep frown that almost looked like a scowl. A resting bitch face if you wanted to call it that. 

He always looked unimpressed. Unchanging. Bored. But Jeongguk was far from that. What looked like an unbothered exterior had thousands of thoughts running through his head. Mapping out exits. Security. You know the drill. 

See, people noticed Jeongguk no matter what but no one really ever struck up a conversation with him unless they had a death wish. Except for the pretty receptionist sitting at the front desk Jeongguk was walking up to. The one that always straightened her spine to push her gigantic boobs up higher and smiled with those dark red lips a little wider every single time she saw him, 

"Back again, Mr… Joonam Kim?" She smiled brightly, teetering on the edge of her seat to get a better look of him as he walked up to the counter. 

Yes, the name he used every Wednesday and Friday for the past month was Mr. Joonam Kim. Like hell he was going to walk around telling people his real name. He had his fellow Haegeum members to use for that. He knew his teammate wouldn’t mind the play on his name. It was all part of the fun of the job. Whatever fun meant to Jeongguk anyway. 

His mouth barely twitched hearing the name. While the voice in his earpiece barked out a laugh right in his ear that almost made Jeongguk cut the line entirely. He let the pause between him and the receptionist stretch just long enough to make her feel uncomfortable. 

The silence was long enough for her to wonder if she had gotten his name wrong. He stared at the receptionist through the tint of his sunglasses. Watching the way she squirmed almost uncomfortably or maybe hornily under his hidden gaze. Then he gave her a lazy, “Mmm.” in response with a smooth, uninterested nod. 

Joonam Kim was a mask. An easy one. An easy name that no one asked questions about. And a forgettable name that no one remembered after. But today wasn’t even a Joonam day. 

Today had a target in mind. Today had a goal. Today was work. 

And how much of a coincidence was it that his work for the last six weeks started at the place you were the director and main lecturer of? The world was smaller than Jeongguk thought, wasn’t it. 

He adjusted his sunglasses slightly out of habit. A movement that hid the way his eyes were already tracking the room beyond the receptionist’s shoulders before speaking again, “I’m here for lecture four.” He added casually, already turning away before she could respond.

“No problem, Mr. Kim! Down the hall and to your left. Exhibition room number seven. The lecture starts in six minutes.” She chirped with a smile, clearly pleased he was still within conversational reach.

The unsuspecting receptionist thought he was one of your regulars. A man who had developed an unexpected appreciation for art after listening to one of your lectures. The rest of the staff that saw him twice a week thought the same. 

Nobody questioned why the tattooed man dressed entirely in black wandered the exhibitions and joined your lectures on those specific days before quietly slipping out the exit doors like he was never there.

Nobody questioned why he never spoke. Never took notes. Never looked at the art work you were discussing for more than a few seconds. The truth was simple. Jeongguk couldn't tell a fucking soul the difference between any kind of art if someone strapped a bomb to his chest and asked him to.

If you tested people on every lecture you had ever given, Jeongguk would fail miserably. On purpose. And that was simply because the only masterpiece Jeongguk ever been truly interested in… was you. That was just the easy fucking truth. 

Jeongguk didn’t answer the receptionist. Instead, he turned and made his way down the hall to the left without another word just as directed. He knew where the lecture was being held anyways. But he had to play the part. 

And as he entered through the gallery doors, a gush of wind followed behind him. Making the trail of his scent follow behind him. Leaving the air smelling like wood, motor oil and leather. Inside the lecture hall revealed yeah, more boring ass white walls. More boring art. And best of all, silence mimicking sophistication. His favourite. That was sarcasm. 

“Knew you would join the lecture.” Came The Watcher’s voice with a snicker.  

“If you say one more thing, I’m gonna shove an ice pick through those eyes.” Jeongguk grunted, “Real slow.” 

The call went silent at once and Jeongguk’s shoulders eased instantly and he rolled his muscles back then stretched his neck. He strolled through the lecture room like he didn’t care to be there. Why the fuck should he pretend about that part? It didn’t matter anyway. His elusiveness just made it easier for him to blend in although his appearance could say otherwise. People simply thought he was a lover of art. Perhaps a curator. Or maybe a buyer with a fat wallet. 

And as he moved, his steps didn’t stray when he briefly passed the art showcasing the walls. He pretended to seem interested. A hand under his chin. Nodding in thought as though the century old paintings on the walls gave him some sort of outward perspective of the new world. He pretended to know whatever the hell Cubeism was as he passed by the next display. From behind his glasses, his eyes rolled. Deeply. 

Every step he took was made with precision. Careful calculation. He was so good at faking interest that the thought of becoming an actor as a side gig made his pierced lips twitch considerably. He almost laughed at his own joke. See? He could be funny. 

Jeongguk was in his element. Moving with perfect ease because today, he actually wasn’t even “Joonam Kim.”

Today, he was… A curator’s clipboard brushed past his elbow and interrupted the thought, “Sorry! Oh~! Mister–” The woman said quickly, glancing up at him.

Jeongguk tilted his head slightly. It was the smallest polite gesture he could manage. And without hesitation he answered with a different name entirely, “Jinseok Kim.” The words were clean. Busan accent hidden. No strain. As though the name always belonged to him. Even though the name belonged to yet another one of his men. Sorry not sorry. 

Names were never real to The Haegeum Network. 

At least not in the way people meant them.

Names were tools. Temporary labels stitched onto moving bodies so the world had something comfortable to call them before it forgot them all over again. “Joonam Kim. Jinseok Kim.” And four others before that. Each name was clean. Each one unremarkable. Carefully built and just as carefully erased. 

Nothing about Haegeum was allowed to stick to outsiders. There could be no trace. No pattern. No repetition that could linger in a person’s brain before the thought could form. The names weren’t just aliases… they were dead ends.

The names were backstories that existed only long enough to pass a glance. I.Ds that wouldn’t survive a second verification. Credit histories that dissolved the moment someone tried to dig too deep. Paper trails that looped back to nothing. Digital footprints that scattered into contradictions the second they were followed.

Those false identities didn’t just hide Haegeum. They simply never existed outside the Network itself. That was the point. They didn’t use fake names the way others did. They rotated through them like revolving doors. One closing just as the next opened. All so that if someone thought they had found a pattern, they were already wrong by the time they noticed it.

And Gwishin himself and the rest of his members stayed untouched at the center of it all. In Haegeum’s world, being remembered was just another way of being tracked. And they had no intention of ever being found.

He gave a faint hum in response to the curator and just like that, Jinseok faded into nothingness. He made his way to the empty back row of the lecture room. Exactly how he liked it. It was an old habit that couldn’t seem to die. 

From the back of the room, much like at The Seven Devils, Jeongguk could see every entrance and exit. Every face that walked into the room. From where he sat with his back pressed into the wooden chair he took a seat on, nobody could surprise him. Nobody could get behind him. 

Years serving Haegeum had turned paranoia into instinct and it was a habit he didn't even think about anymore. He chose the seat because it gave him the best line of sight. His sunglasses stayed on. His leather jacket never came off. And a pair of strong arms folded across his wide chest while one ankle lifted to rest over the opposite knee. 

He watched as the room slowly filled around him. Noticing a few familiar faces of people who never missed one of your lectures.

Soon enough the chatter softened. Then stopped. The doors opened one final time. And then you walked in. That was the only part of the day where Jeongguk’s resolve cracked slightly because suddenly, sitting through an hour of an art discussion didn't seem so unbearable after all.

His expression didn’t change. He still looked like another attendee waiting for the lecture to begin. Only Gwishin knew better. He wasn't here for the paintings. Or the lecture. Or even you. Not officially at least.

Jeongguk was here for the man that sat four rows ahead to his right. Dressed in a black suit. Gold watch on his wrist. Wedding band. Late forties. Handsome. Expensive. The sort of face that disappeared into a crowd by design.

His next target.

Jeongguk had memorized him months ago. His name. His routine. He had memorized the way the man always checked the calendar on his phone before putting it on silent. The way he favored his lower back when he sat down. He memorized the fancy car he drove. The way he always seemed to park right at the front of the gallery as if he owned it. The way the faint scar at the corner of his lower lip raised each time he smirked.

To anyone else, the man was just another attendee. But to Jeongguk? He was work. 

A tattooed hand rubbed over his jaw as his gaze drifted over the room without ever settling too long on any one person. He noted the exits to his left and right. His target. The large bay window behind the front of the speaker’s podium. His target. The security cameras in the four corners of the room. His target. The fire escape doors all the way in the back. His target.

It was a rhythm. A dance. A habit. A life.

Throughout the gallery, life kept breathing. But in front of Ghost, the hunt had already begun.

The target never noticed him because Jeongguk simply looked like another man sitting through an art lecture the same reason why everyone else in the room did. He was invisible. Patient. Haunting. 

When you walked up to the speaker’s podium you smiled at your audience as though this was just another afternoon. And that’s when Jeongguk's attention slipped yet again. 

It was only for a second. But it slipped long enough to watch you set your binder full of notes onto the podium and then tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. The sharp eyes behind tinted sunglasses tracked your silhouette as you moved. His jaw flexed as his gaze drifted to the form fitting black dress stopping at your knees. Black blazer buttoned at the front. Black kitten heels. Sleek framed glasses perched on your nose. Hair pulled back in a neat knot at the back of your nape. 

Professional. Fucking sexy. 

Jeongguk caught himself immediately. He silently dared The Watcher to even utter a comment and luckily, nothing came through his earpiece. He refocused on the man in the black suit next. Eyes narrowing. Arms crossing. Knee bouncing rhythmically. Jaw flexing. 

Work first. Always.

Even if the only person capable of distracting Gwishin had just walked into the room.

"Good afternoon, everyone." Your voice carried effortlessly through the lecture hall. The kind of voice that made people want to listen. The audience settled and the man in the suit crossed one leg over the other while he leaned back in his chair.

Jeongguk noticed the man’s intrigue on you faster than anything else. His eyes stayed on the back of his head. His target’s posture was relaxed and comfortable. Absolutely no awareness of his surroundings while The Ghost already clocked three escape routes the man would likely take if something happened.

The target had no idea he had been profiled before you had even introduced yourself.

You began speaking about the exhibition with the same enthusiasm you always did. Moving across the room with ease. Hands painting invisible pictures in the air as you spoke. People smiled. Some laughed. Others took notes. Jeongguk, on the other hand, tried not to yawn. 

Even the target seemed interested in what you were talking about. But Jeongguk wasn't. His attention drifted between your voice and the man rows ahead. And every few minutes, the target checked his watch. Then he glanced toward the emergency exit. Finally, he discreetly texted someone with his phone between his legs. 

Jeongguk filed each detail away. Then the man's phone vibrated again but this time, instead of reading the message, he looked up. He wasn’t looking at the painting behind you. Or at the presentation. He was looking at you. And his ogling strayed for a bit too long. Long enough for Jeongguk to notice. And long enough for the muscles in his jaw to tighten considerably. The target wasn't listening anymore. He was watching you.

Jeongguk's thumb brushed over the hidden lining of his leather jacket instinctively. Tattooed fingers running over where the weight of a pocket pistol sat. He didn't reach for the weapon. Didn't move. He simply watched the man because Haegeum had sent him here to study a target. Not to conduct business. Not to intervene.

However as the man continued staring at you instead of paying attention to the lecture, Jeongguk felt something murderous settle beneath the center of his chest. Was the staring professional curiosity? Personal interest? Or maybe both.

Either way… The lecture had just become a lot more interesting.

And as it dragged on, Jeongguk’s eyes never failed to leave the man’s profile. From what he gathered from his late nights of studying his targets at The Seven Devils, the man was a philanthropist according to every magazine that loved printing his face. He was a collector according to the museums that gladly accepted his money too. A generous patron of the arts if you will.

Haegeum knew a different man. This man was a broker. The kind who never got his own hands dirty. He bought and sold more than paintings. He bought information. Influence. People. Entire lives were negotiated over expensive alcohol and hushed conversations. He had spent decades hiding behind his fancy tailored suits and museum donations. Convincing the world he was preserving history.

But in reality, he was building an empire with blood money disguised as culture. Which was exactly why The Haegeum Network wanted him gone. It wasn’t going to happen today. Surely not in the gallery either. Today wasn't an execution. It was simply surveillance. Learning patterns and habits. Finding weaknesses.

Jeongguk wasn't here to kill the man. He was just here to learn how he lived because once Gwishin knew how a man lived, he already knew how he would die. It was just a matter of time. And the Ghost had plenty of that. 

The lecture finally dissolved into the rhythm of an ending. Guests stood and drifted between the galleries in slow moving clusters. Some stopped to revisit paintings that had taken on new meaning after your talk. Questions hung in the air. Conversations overlapped. And the quiet museum transformed into a gentle hum of footsteps, laughter and thoughtful discussion.

You stayed near the front of the podium long after the lecture had ended. Answering every question with patience. Smiling for every guest who stopped to thank you and carrying yourself with the same effortless professionalism that had held the room's attention from the moment you began.

That was when the target made his move.

You didn't notice him at first. Why would you? There was a good hundred people attending the lecture alone. Nevertheless, he blended seamlessly into the handful of guests still waiting to speak with you. Offering a compliment about the lecture before asking a thoughtful question about an upcoming exhibition. And by the time the conversation drifted from your work to whether you would let him take you lunch today, he had already stepped comfortably into your space. Just a little too comfortably.

“You’re even more impressive in person.” The target complimented you, his voice lowering slightly, “I’d love to take you out to lunch. Somewhere quieter. I think you would be even more interesting outside all this… noise.” He waved with his hands. 

Jeongguk was close enough to hear it all and somewhere in the middle of the conversation, he began to move too. It wasn’t abrupt. And not in a way that drew attention. He simply stepped away from the wall and threaded through the thinning crowd with an unhurried pace. His presence invisible by the movement of everyone else. Until he wasn't. Until he passed behind you. Close enough that the space around you seemed to narrow.

The faint scent of leather drifted by. Followed by a warmth that strayed for only a heartbeat before continuing on. It wasn't a touch but your body reacted anyway. And your words caught for the briefest moment. A strange sense of awareness washed over you. It was impossible to explain and it felt as though a ghost had just touched you.

By the time you glanced over your shoulder, there was nothing to see except another guest disappearing into the crowd. Strange… it felt like… You shook your head, eyes glancing down at the binder against your chest, scanning through the list of attendees. No Jeongguk. Of course not. He would rather die than be here. Still, you could feel his presence crawling through you even as you tried to shake it off. 

Jeongguk didn’t look back but he heard your voice faint through the noise. Talking about lunch options with the target. You were so polite and unaware, wrapped up in an ease that didn’t match the tension he had just stepped through.

He adjusted his pace, already recalculating his next moves in his mind then he exited the hall without hesitation. Outside of the lecture hall where the glass walls of the gallery reflected the city back at him, he disappeared again, only this time circling around a hall to head straight toward your office upstairs.

He slipped past a pair of security guards in the middle of a conversation. His shoulders brushing one of them just enough to be mistaken for a passing guest. None of them reacted. No one ever did until it was too late anyway. 

Jeongguk made his way to a side door marked STAFF ONLY that sat partly hidden behind a display. He twisted the doorknob and hummed to himself as it unlocked. Too easy. He pushed through it and let the gallery die behind him as he entered into a cold, empty stairwell. 

And next, he was moving. Up a flight of stairs. Two and three steps at a time like always. Combat boots striking hard against metal edges. His breath steady. The kind of movement that looked reckless but wasn’t because it was Jeongguk. 

In his ear, The Watcher’s voice returned quickly, “So lunch, huh? He really wants to die.”

Jeongguk didn’t slow. His hand gripped over the stairwell rail tight as he climbed the next flight, “Fuck off.” He muttered, “It’s nothing.” He huffed, “Just lunch.” 

The Watcher hummed into his ear, “Your heart rate’s climbing.” He added, “Blood pressure’s rising to one thirty over ninety. You sure it’s nothing?” The Watcher snickered, “Better take a breath before you pop a blood vessel.” 

Jeongguk took another flight two at a time. His hand grazing the railing just long enough to pivot faster, “You’re about to be out of a fucking job.” He huffed as he reached the floor where your office was. He quickly punched in the code to enter. 4 simple numbers. Yours and his anniversary date. It was easy enough to guess without needing The Watcher to tell him and he wasn’t even slightly surprised that you never changed it either. 

Your office was eerily quiet. It felt wrong to be in there. But not wrong enough to Jeongguk since he closed the door behind him easily and made his way over to your desk as though he had done this dance far too many times for it to be a new routine. 

He took a seat at your desk and scanned the room. He had been in here for other reasons before. Reasons you didn’t need to know about. The atmosphere was still the same. Boring. Plain. Professional. But the scent in the air was unmistakably you. It was like you spritzed your perfume in there before leaving. Jeongguk inhaled deeply. Letting the scent fill his lungs. He allowed himself those few moments to wrap himself in the sweet floral and vanilla scent that was you and then he was working. 

Quick fingers were moving over your computer’s keyboard with efficient intrusion at once. Files opened and closed. Eyes scanning over any kind of new information that could give shape to the man who had been standing too close to you just a few minutes ago.

“This just got personal, didn’t it.” Said The Watcher through the earpiece and Jeongguk cursed him with a whisper while he scrolled through a file sheet filled with donation reports. 

“Work isn’t personal.” Jeongguk mumbled although his blood boiled as the image of the man approaching you played in his mind, “I never mix work with my personal life.” He said as he clicked over a document and opened up another file. 

The cursor hovered over the target’s name and Jeongguk highlighted the cell, eyes following the grid to the end where it showed the amount of money the man had donated to the gallery this year alone. It was all blood money under the guise of donations. The target was laundering cash into your gallery and you had no fucking idea. 

At first, it was only work. It always started that way. But the man just couldn’t help himself, couldn’t he. Jeongguk didn’t need to be a fucking genius to know the intentions his target had. 

Maybe the man asked you to lunch because he wanted to increase his donations. Maybe he wanted to fuck you. Jeongguk didn’t know or care. Either way, the man had to die so whether he flirted with you or not didn’t matter to him. It only made the thought of ending his life settle deeper into Jeongguk’s soul. The only thing that made him grit his teeth the most was that he just had to let it all fucking happen because he couldn’t unleash himself upon the man… yet. 

The screen of your computer blinked at Jeongguk and he leaned back in the chair he had been sitting in. Exhaling through his nose and tilting his head to the side as he cracked his neck. 

The Watcher’s voice hummed through his earpiece as casual as ever, “Yum. Peach iced tea… with a lemon wedge.” He noted, “Good choice.” He mused and Jeongguk could hear the click of his keyboard under fast fingertips, “Check outside the window on your west.” 

Jeongguk was still staring at the computer screen but his attention was already elsewhere long before The Watcher had said anything. He stood up at once and the chair scraped across the floor. Echoing through the silence of the office as though the sound marked every single one of his twisted decisions. 

He crossed the room without hurry. His footsteps quiet against the floor as he stopped by the window. Below the gallery and across the street, a posh upscale restaurant sat in full view. And you were there on the patio. Under the sun and in perfect view for Jeongguk to survey you with his unfortunate target. 

The Watcher’s voice continued in his ear as amused as ever, “A bit too early to be drinking wine for our target, isn’t it? ” He said, “Although I guess it might be five o'clock somewhere…” He trailed off, “He’s not really drinking it. More just holding the glass like it’ll make him look more interesting.” He snorted, “Loser.” 

Jeongguk’s gaze didn’t move. He watched from above. Barely making out your hand lifting your drink to your lips slightly as you spoke. His eyes strayed to the side, noticing the way the sunlight drifting in through the brushes of the trees lining the patio caught the colour of your hair and the side of your face before falling away again, “Keep watching and see if you can dial in to listen.” He instructed The Watcher. 

“On it, boss.” 

He watched the man with intensity. Surveying the scene as far as his eyes could see. He saw the grey specks of hair from his target and the way his body leaned in towards you more than necessary. Close enough that Jeongguk didn’t even need audio to know what was being said.

The Watcher provided it anyway, “Wow.” He commented dryly, “Yeah, so he just made it personal.” 

Jeongguk didn’t ask what was said. He didn’t need to know. 

The details weren’t the point anymore. 

Only the direction things were heading mattered. 

Dark eyes stayed locked on the space between you and the target then narrowed at the distance dwindling between the two of you. He observed the close comfort between two strangers that didn’t belong there. The assumption that nothing would interrupt it. He exhaled to himself, “Keep the feed on them.” He commanded without looking away from the window.

Jeongguk watched you both for a moment longer while measuring everything in silence. The office behind him faded from relevance entirely. Everything warped together into two bold points across the street. You. The target. 

The Watcher’s voice cut in through the earpiece quietly, “Just remember,” He hummed, “Nothing happens before 봉인 (Bongin or The Seal) says it does.” He continued, his voice firm as though he was trying to stop Jeongguk from doing anything rash before it was time, “Gwishin doesn’t decide the moment. He waits for it.”

“I am waiting.” Jeongguk snapped as his stare sharpened through the glass anyway. He was patient. He had to be. His restraint was held together by his discipline alone. That didn’t mean the thought of how fast he could snipe his target right from where he stood didn’t cross his mind one or two times already, “It’s not a chase.” He stepped back from the window and turned towards the desk, “Just timing.”

The Watcher went quiet because whatever this was, it was already over in Jeongguk’s head.

“Get out of there soon.” The Watcher mumbled, “Unless you want her to come catch you. If that’s the case, kindly cut the line because I don’t want to see anything I haven’t already–” 

He huffed with annoyance although it might even have been amusement because yes, there had been a time where The Watcher had dialed into Jeongguk’s surveillance feed without warning and had seen some very… suggestive things. Not that it was Jeongguk’s fault. The Watcher learned his lesson very quickly after that time anyways. 

“Say less.” Jeongguk mumbled quickly and two fingers came up to the side of the sunglass frame. He brushed the discreet contact point near the temple of his sunglasses and the connection died instantly. The frames of his sunglasses flickered once and then Jeongguk’s view collapsed into static before finally fading into a normal tint. 

He didn’t go back to the window after that. Instead, Jeongguk stayed at your desk. The files on your computer were already closed. The intel he needed stopped being useful. He had no other reason to be in your office but something about being in a space that belonged to you made it hard for him to just up and walk away. 

And so, he browsed through your computer as he sat there. Maybe he was buying time. Who knows. His subconscious made him sit there because he knew deep down after lunch, you would make your way up to your office to work on admin things for the rest of the day. Much like you always did. 

What you would think if you walked into your office and saw him there didn’t cross Jeongguk’s mind yet. Or perhaps the decision to wait in your office was already there before he even entered and he simply didn’t give a damn either. 

He found it hard to move. And even harder to look away from your screen when he scrolled across a certain app that looked like your dating profile. Curiosity got the best of him and he opened it up, tongue poking into the side of his cheek with thought as he read the ‘about me’ section of the page. 

“Looking for something real.”  

Jeongguk rolled his eyes as he read the line. Something real. He huffed with irritation and continued to scroll. 

The mouse cursor hovered over your profile pictures and he instantly clicked on the option to open them because if he were already here looking, he might as well investigate everything else while he was at it, right? 

That was a justifiable excuse for invading your privacy, wasn’t it? 

The photos were simple enough. Candid. Some off guard. Some selfies. Pretty ones. Pictures that reflected a life lived with adventure and happiness. A life he once shared with you. 

“Why are you doing this?” He muttered to the empty room as he scrolled over to your newest matches and their messages. He opened every single conversation. Even the ones you hadn’t read yet. He didn’t give a fuck. Knowing that this profile would soon cease to exist in about five minutes anyway. Boring. Boring. Weird. More boring. He judged the conversations as he snorted to himself. 

Men tried way too fucking hard. There was no need to be doing all that on a dating app. Especially when it looked like these conversations with you weren’t going anywhere. It was almost as though you entertained them with a certain intention but halfway through realized they weren’t worth your time. Or perhaps realized these chuds weren’t who you wanted. 

With a shrug, Jeongguk moved the mouse cursor over to the corner of the screen where the privacy options for the application were. He hovered over the button to delete the account but he didn’t do it on his own because that would be too obvious. Instead, he reached for a phone in his back pocket and took it out, choosing a contact from his screen and pressing the phone to his ear. 

There was one ring and a voice on the other end answered instantly. Then came Jeongguk’s voice in that same flat, disinterested tone, “Delete the account.” He mumbled into the phone, “Shut the fucking server down if you can too.” He added with a shrug. 

No other words were exchanged. And on the other end of the call, there was only a quiet acknowledgement and then the line disconnected abruptly. 

Jeongguk set the phone down and tilted his head back slightly, arms crossed over his chest with his eyes still on the screen to watch it all happen in real time. Some force from within the city took over the screen where he had left it behind and he watched as the screen stuttered for a moment before a series of codes filled the page. Layer by layer, the application and its function stopped existing entirely.

He knew having your dating profile and the entire application deleted wouldn’t resolve anything. If anything, it was proof of just how irrational he had become. He knew that. Accepted it, even. Yet somewhere along the way, his definition of reasonable had stopped resembling everyone else’s. In his mind, there had never been a world that existed where you belonged on a dating app. Not after him anyway. You didn’t need to be on those things when you had him. 

The logic was impossible. Contradictory. And entirely his own. In Jeongguk’s fucked up head it fit together with perfect clarity. You would never understand it. You would call him obsessive. Possessive. Fucking unhinged. And you would be absolutely right about it all. 

Jeongguk found he didn't particularly care though.

You could even call him insane. It changed nothing.

His sunglasses sat on top of your desk now. So did the earpiece. And Jeongguk’s gaze drifted over the space of your office now that his work was over. There was nothing personal in the space that anyone else would notice. Your office was a place built for work, not memory. There were files stacked neatly. Your computer was left idle. Everything intentional in its emptiness.

Except for the desk behind your chair.

When Jeongguk turned around, his eyes caught it immediately. There was a framed photo turned face-down. The edges of the frame were slightly dulled by dust that had started to settle into the corners. As though it hadn’t been touched in a long time. And as though it had been put there once and then abandoned in that position. As though you had decided it should no longer be seen but still deserved to remain in that space. 

Jeongguk knew what the photo was of. It was taken a long time ago. With you sitting behind him on his bike, arms loosely around his waist. His head turned just enough in the shot to catch the edge of a smile he probably didn’t realize he was wearing. Your face half-hidden against his shoulder and your hair caught in the wind.

He still had the same picture and kept it somewhere he didn’t pretend not to know about. 

The difference was that his wasn’t turned face-down.

Jeongguk’s eyes remained on the frame for a second longer. His expression disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. Then he let the memory go just as the footsteps drew closer to your office door.

The door swung open next and you stepped inside without looking up from your phone. Your lips were at the straw of your iced tea. A tired sigh leaving your lips while you reached for the binder under your arm. Then you froze when you looked up, nearly dropping your purse, drink and the rest of your belongings from your grasp as your steps stuttered to a halt. Your breath caught in your throat so sharply it bordered on painful and you felt the shock all the way into your back. 

Jeongguk stood near your desk as though he just happened to be in the neighbourhood and decided to stop by there. One hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket. The other on top of your chair’s headrest. The afternoon light shone into the room and outlined his silhouette. Making his shadow look freaking gigantic. 

For a split second, you genuinely thought your heart had stopped and then you remembered to breathe, “What the fuck…” The words escaped your lips in a harsh whisper and your eyes darted back toward the doorway where your door was still half opened. Without thinking, you reached behind you and pulled the door shut quickly. The latch clicking softly into place before anyone passing by had the chance to glance inside.

Only then did you turn back to him, a hand at the center of your chest as you whispered, “What the actual fuck are you doing here?” You took a step closer, your voice strained with disbelief, “This floor is for staff only.” 

Jeongguk simply watched you with that same infuriatingly calm stature that made you want to knock the sonic coins out of him. He stood there without saying a single word as though slipping into places he wasn't supposed to be in was no more remarkable than walking through the front door. Which, knowing Jeongguk… it probably wasn't.

His eyes drifted from your face to the takeout cup still clutched loosely in your hand, condensation sliding over the plastic from where you had carried it back upstairs making your fingers wet. The thought crossed his mind for a split second. Not even a second. Half a second. Your fingers in his mouth. He stomped the idea out faster than it formed and then he was stepping closer to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his pierced lips, 

"Was gonna take you to lunch." He hummed out thoughtfully, "But..." His eyes lingered on the drink for another second, "Looks like I missed my chance." He made a tch noise with his lips and shrugged, “Maybe another time.” He acted as though he simply noticed the cup in your hand. As though he were piecing the story together now. 

Jeongguk almost hated how skilled he was at lying straight to your face.

You glanced down at the cup as though you had forgotten you were still holding it and something unreadable crossed Jeongguk's expression before it disappeared. His gaze returned to yours, giving away nothing. As if he hadn't known exactly where you had been. As if he hadn't watched you sitting outside on the patio. As if he hadn't stood at a window, daggered eyes shooting towards the man sitting next to you.

The lie rolled easily on his tongue. He hadn't come here to surprise you. He hadn't come to ask you to lunch. He had come looking for answers. The invitation was simply the prettier version of the ugly truth.

"Yeah, right. Take me to lunch. And the sky is green, Jeongguk." You rolled your eyes, “You don’t even eat lunch, lying moron.” You grumbled, clutching the cup a little tighter, "How did you even get in here?” You placed your things down onto your desk and sighed, rubbing at the back of your neck before looking around to see if anything had been touched, "If security catches you, they'll trespass you before you make it five feet down the hallway." 

Jeongguk looked at you for a long moment and then he felt a strange feeling bubbling within his chest. Then he began to laugh. Hard. A genuine bark of amusement that escaped out of his lips before he could stop it. He sounded like he was mocking you. The kind of laugh someone let out after hearing something genuinely absurd. You glared at him. Eyes narrowing. 

The idea of the gallery security catching him made him guffaw. That was a good laugh. 

His smile stayed spread across his lips as he started moving towards you. Steps slow and nonchalant. Each step carrying the same high strung confidence (dick heavy) walk he had entered the building with, "Those goofs?” He said fondly. As if he were actually willing to entertain the challenge of getting caught, "Yeah… I think I'll survive."

You shot him an unimpressed look and your arms folded over your chest as he approached you, "I'm fucking serious, Gguk." You inhaled a labored breath as though him coming closer to you had you feeling overwhelmed already. 

"Oh, I know you are, sweet pea." He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back slightly to keep his eye contact, "And I think that's adorable." He reached up and you felt the back of his fingers brush lightly over your cheek before you instantly whipped your head away from his touch. 

Your glare deepened. His smile did too.

You stared at him with complete disbelief, your shoulders collapsing in mild defeat, "Who the fuck do you think you are?" You hissed, careful to keep your voice from carrying beyond the office door, "Showing up at my job unannounced? Again? Are you actually crazy?" You paused, “I don’t even know why I ask you that question anyway. You know what you are.” 

Jeongguk didn't so much as flinch. Instead, the tip of his tongue stuck out to lick over the piercings on his lower lip before his teeth dragged over it, “I was tryna surprise you.” He mused, amused by your outrage more than intimidated by it.

You blinked at him several times before crossing to your chair to pull it out from the desk in one rough tug, "That's what you come up with to say?" You huffed, taking a seat and grabbing your mouse to check your computer. 

Jeongguk gave you the smallest shrug as he walked over to your desk to lean against the edge of it right in front of you, almost blocking your view from the computer, "If I announced I was coming..." His gaze stayed on yours, big arms crossing over his wide chest, "It wouldn't have been much of a surprise, would it?"

You opened your mouth to argue but nothing came out because against all reason, his logic was internally consistent. Instead, you scoffed under your breath, "I don’t have time for this shit today." You spat, shaking your head as your fingers pressed against your temple.

"No?" He asked softly then he hummed in thought before continuing, "But you're still talking to me." The smile tugging at his lips only made you want to strangle him more, “If you want me to leave, just say the word.” He nodded, making no effort to get up. If anything, Jeongguk made himself more comfortable. Leaning back on his hands as he watched you click at absolutely nothing on your computer. 

He leaned more against the edge of your desk then slid backwards until he was sitting on top of it properly. Completely at ease in a space where he had no right to be. He pushed aside a neatly stacked folder of documents as he made himself comfortable and your head lifted to glare at him as he sat there in the middle of your desk like rules were merely suggestions for him.

“I can’t work with you sitting there.” You deadpanned, staring at him with exhaustion. You were annoyed… slightly. Your eyes blazed in his direction for a long moment, waiting for him to realize he had overstayed his welcome.

He didn't.

That was always the problem with Jeongguk. He toted himself with this energy that felt like he could tell the exact distance between being unwanted and being tolerated. And he always seemed to know when he was closer to the latter. 

You sighed out, "Leave." and then you turned back toward your computer. The word came out threatening. Convincing enough to you. You didn't look at the door. Nor did you stand up.

Jeongguk quietly noted down every single thing you didn't do.

A menacing smirk began to curl upwards along the corner of his lips. Not because he thought he had won but because he understood you better than you wanted him to. Yes, you were telling him to leave. But you were also sitting there letting the silence hang heavily between the two of you. Letting him stay.

Jeongguk pushed away from the desk slightly, just enough to make you think he might actually listen. And your eyes flickered over to him with hope filled in them. He smiled at you with that same snarky ass grin and then he sat back down, staying exactly where he was. 

“Fucking asshole.” You grumbled to yourself and started typing along your keyboard. Eyes narrowing as you tried (and failed) to look busy. Eventually, your patience ran out and you pushed back from your chair with force. 

Jeongguk didn’t move but his attention followed you the second you stood up.

You ignored him and crossed the room toward the shelves along the wall. Reaching between files and display pieces to find what you were looking for. Your movements were automatic. You were awful at pretending to not care about him being there if Jeongguk had to be honest. 

This was your space. Your routine. Your life. And yet somehow, with the insufferable ass man you called your ex sitting there, it felt different. As though the room had warped to fit his presence. As if he was sucking all the air out of the very space you were standing in. 

Behind you, you could feel his eyes following. Dark gaze tracking you in the way you were used to because you knew Jeongguk had always been observant. Always memorized details about you without meaning to. 

You felt his fierce gaze drift downwards and land on your ass shamelessly and you almost whipped something at his head to have some sort of decorum. But you didn’t. Of course not. 

You finally found what you were looking for and turned back around. That’s when Jeongguk stood up and trapped you against the corner of your desk before you could make it to your chair, “You look pretty today.” His gazed trailed over the dress you were wearing, “Very office siren.” He commented with a hum of approval, “So damn sexy.” 

“God, shut up.” Your stomach betrayed your words by coiling tight within the very pit of your soul and you raised the file you had in your hands to hit him with it but Jeongguk snatched it away from you quickly, tossing it onto the desk with a careless thud, “Did you find what you needed on my computer?” You dared to lift your head to look up at him as his hands planted onto the sides of the desk on either side of you, “I know you snooped.” 

“What’s there to find, baby?” Jeongguk purred the nickname out and you genuinely felt your head spin at the sound of his voice. His tattooed fingers thrummed over the front of your blazer before his fingertips danced up your sleeve, "You really think that little of me?"

You stared at him as the tips of his fingers brushed over your clothes. Still, his touch raised goosebumps along your body and you could only thank the heavens that he couldn’t see your bare skin right now. 

His voice was low and his head tilted to the side as he tried to look pitiful, “You don’t trust me?” He pressed further and he crowded over you as though he owned you and the space he took up. His pelvis nudged up against yours, pinning you flush to the edge of the desk as he peered down at you with his terrorizing height. 

Jeongguk never looked guilty when he was caught. He looked like he had already thought about every possible outcome of being caught and decided none of them bothered him one bit.

The fucking nerve of this man. After everything he put you through. The secrets. The disappearing acts. The way he always seemed to know things he shouldn't, he stood there asking you that. Asking you if you trusted him. As if trust was something simple. As if it was something he hadn't spent years making complicated all on his own.

“Not at all.” You nodded sternly although your voice came out shaken as the familiarity of Jeongguk snatching the space between you both nearly suffocated you. You felt the outline of what he was packing in those snug fitting jeans of his rubbing up against the front of your dress and you swallowed the lump of lust forming in your throat thickly. Lord, he was big. 

The size difference between you and Jeongguk had always been impossible to ignore. He was just... bigger. Not just in height alone, but in presence. Standing nearly underneath him made you realize how much space he naturally occupied. Giant shoulders. A solid frame. The kind of build that made every doorway and hallway seem significantly smaller when he walked through them. 

You, on the other hand, could stand your ground all you wanted. And you fought tooth and nail to but next to him, the contrast was strikingly obvious. It wasn’t just that he towered over you. It was the way he seemed immovable. As if he were a brick wall that suddenly learned how to walk.

And the most irritating part was that Jeongguk knew exactly what effect his size had on you. His aura alone was enough to remind you that beneath the teasing and the utter cockiness was someone who had always been far more difficult to push away than you wanted to admit.

The first thing you noticed was the strong angles of his face as you stared up at him. Next was his scent. Leather. Distinct and recognizable. An unmistakable scent he carried with him in the same way it always had.

It pulled you back to the end of the lecture. The brief moment when he had passed close enough for your senses to catch it before your mind did. The same trace of leather. The same presence you had dismissed as a stranger at the time.

"Wait." You breathed, "Were you there?"

Jeongguk hummed out in question, "Where?" 

"The lecture."

The pause only lasted for less than a breath and then Jeongguk casually said, "Nope."

You knew there was no chance Jeongguk had willingly sat through an hour-long discussion about art theory unless there was a reason and you shook your head as if the idea of seeing him sitting in your lecture was preposterous even to you, "Right. Forgot you hate those lectures."

"I do."

The bluntness of the response made you scoff, "Okay? That's kind of rude."

"I didn't say I hated hearing you talk." The way Jeongguk looked at you when he said the words made them feel like anything but, “I just said I hate the lectures.” 

The teasing expression spread across his face faded slightly. Replaced by something earnest. More deliberate. As though for once in his life, he wasn't trying to provoke you or win an argument. As though he was just saying something he had been thinking.

Chocolate coloured eyes stayed on yours. Steady and unbreaking. The look in his eyes made it difficult to tell whether he was being honest or whether he had simply always been better at hiding what he felt. 

Jeongguk could dismiss anything without hesitation. He could call things boring. Pointless. A waste of time. However, when it came to you, his rules always seemed to bend just a little. 

If you knew he sat through that lecture, you would never let him live it down because in all honesty, the lecture could have lasted hours. The topic could have been something he never gave a shit about. None of it would have mattered because you were the one speaking. And Jeongguk would gladly sit for hours listening to you speak about blah, blah, blah if that meant he could listen to you talk. 

“You know I’m not into that shit, angel.” He nodded, hands reaching out towards you, landing on your waist as you stood braced against the desk, “I’m into this dress though.” He purred out with interest as his fingers drifted down your sides to your hips, “Think it would look even better on my bedroom floor.” He looked down at you and smiled, “Agree?” 

That stupidly wicked smile flashed and you felt your insides twist from it. The way pink lips stretched over white teeth. Piercings glistening. His face serving as a silent invitation for you to take a seat on it. God, you wanted to do that so bad. 

You really tried and failed at not reacting when Jeongguk looked you over. You felt as though you were the art on display under his gaze. It was dark. Tracking every inch of you as though he could see through your clothes, “Disagree.” You deadpanned although you tried to squeeze your thighs together without him noticing but who were you kidding. Of course, he noticed and it only made the smile curl wider along his lips. 

“Come over to my place tonight.” Jeongguk whispered, hands trailing up your sides, firm palms squeezing over each side of your waist in a way that made your heart rate lurch a hundred beats forward, “Stay the night. Haven’t slept with you in my arms in forever.” He confessed which made you let out a small snicker despite the shivers running up your spine from his touch. 

You placed a hand on the solid mass that was his chest. Pushing at him lightly to get him away from you but there wasn’t any use. His body was stronger than a brick. All muscle. All man. “Mm.. sounds like someone misses me.” You hummed out, loving the desperate whisper of Jeongguk’s voice. 

“Damn right.” He nodded shamelessly, “I can admit that.” His voice sounded like a strum when he spoke, “But can you say the same?” He reached up with his tattooed hand and brushed a stray piece of hair from your face, tucking the lock behind your ear so that he could see you better, “Can’t you say you missed me at all?” He almost pleaded. 

Something about a big ass man like Jeongguk nearly begging you to admit you missed him struck a fire within your stomach. You knew denying him everything you felt would only lead you down a darker path that you couldn’t find your way out of with him. But did you want to change? Well, your answer to his question sufficed enough, 

“No.” You smiled cheekily up at him. Wearing the most fucked out look in your eyes despite not even being fucked (yet). Yeah, you were already so far gone and nothing had even happened. 

You knew Jeongguk had never been good at pretending he was satisfied with half measures. Yes, you both had dinner together here and there. Sharing a few hours stolen from the rest of the world. Having conversations that lasted longer than either of you intended. Followed by the inevitable moment where you would kick him out of your apartment before anything progressed. 

He didn’t put up a fight. Didn’t try to stay. He gave you the space you deserved. It was progress. But it was never enough because he had missed more than just a meal. More than just a conversation. He had missed normalcy. He missed you. 

Nothing about the two of you was normal anymore though. Jeongguk knew that. But was it wrong for him to want more time with you? Not because dinner wasn't enough. But because leaving afterward never felt like enough.

But you were tired of his games. Tired of his hollow and empty promises. 

Spending time with Jeongguk felt as though you were always one step away from your relationship becoming real again, only for it to slip away through your fingers because while you wanted him to choose you, he wanted to trap you. 

Jeongguk wanted more than just your relationship. He wanted you to be his puppet again. And you wanted him to just stop acting like you were something he could cage and keep locked away. You had every advantage at your fingertips to rid him of you for good. All you had to do was say the word. 

So what the fuck were you two doing, really? You either wanted each other or you didn’t. But what if you wanted the idea of each other? The good parts of each other? What if you wanted the parts of each other that weren't jealousy and possession? Could you put your finger on the map that was your dynamic and figure out where to go next? 

You were caught somewhere between two impossible truths. One part of you wanted Jeongguk with every fibre of your being. Wanted the Jeongguk that showed up at your door with flowers and chocolate. The Jeongguk who could make you laugh when you were trying your hardest not to. 

The other part of you wanted him gone. Wanted the peace you had fought to build without him. Wanted the quiet that came from not constantly wondering what he wasn't telling you. Wanted to stop feeling like loving him meant standing in the middle of a lightning strike.

Everyone was rooting for you to take him back but taking him back meant taking all of him. The good. The bad. The demons he carried like they were old friends. The skeletons in his closet he buried so deeply that sometimes you wondered if even he knew where they ended and he began.

You could love someone and still be afraid of everything that came with them. And Jeongguk was well aware of that. The issue wasn’t that you didn't want him. It was whether wanting him meant accepting the heavy baggage that came with him too. And you just weren't sure anymore if your heart could survive another time of loving him at the cost of yourself. 

If he wanted to choose you, you were here. Waiting for him with arms wide open. But he had to prove to you he was just choosing you. And showing up unannounced to your office today was setting him all the way back to where he first started. 

But when he leaned down to you like he did right now. Closing the space between you both as though it were as easy as pie. When his lips brushed over your own parted ones as though you were just waiting for him to do just that. When he finally pressed his lips against your own as if the action were simply a natural exchange shared between the two of you… You wondered if you were just keeping up with this charade because you were scared of being hurt again.

Or if you were just as fucked up as he was and loved the danger that came with being someone as unhinged as Jeongguk. 

Did your crazy match his crazy? 

The thought lingered long before you were aware of your actions. Wrapping around your brain like a thorned vine as you melted into his touch and kissed him back almost instantly. 

The movements were slow and patient. Which was contradicting because you both kissed as if you didn’t have a pile of paperwork to sift through. As though you didn’t have a job to do. As though anyone could have walked into your office right at this second. Everything was forgotten when your lips met. His lips soft and sickeningly sweet in the worst way possible. 

Your hands pressed against his chest once more but not to push him away this time. Instead, you let the tips of your acrylics curl into the tight shirt he wore under his leather jacket. Your nails running languidly over every dip of his pec muscles before tracing downwards until they were counting over each set of rock hard abs lining his torso as though he were a Greek God and not your dreadful ex slash cold blooded assassin. 

God, you missed him too. Missed feeling those lips tracing every inch of you. Missed the way he would eat you up like a starving man. Missed his perfect body. You made a point to never kiss him goodbye or let him have more than a pat on his shoulder each evening he came over to spend those fleeting hours with you because you knew what it would do to you if you let him get closer than an arms length. 

And you ached every single time you kicked him out of your place before the night turned into something more. But now that his lips were on yours, the question on how you managed to survive saying goodbye to him every night without feeling any part of him on your body ran through your head over and over. 

He tasted like cigarettes and cherry lip balm. You tasted like peaches and lemon. You wanted to push him away but instead, your hands over his abdomen only moved to pull him closer by the flaps of his leather jacket. Letting the fading scent of smoke, leather and motor oil seep into your senses.

“You know I can’t stay away from you even if I tried.” Jeongguk murmured against your lips, “Even if I don’t want to.” He exhaled into your mouth, “Because fuck knows I want to. I want to leave you alone. Give you all the space you need. But I just fuckin’ can’t.” He breathed, your foreheads bumping against each other as his nose brushed yours, “I hate myself for it.” 

Your fingers curled into the leather of his jacket and you had to block the words he was saying from reaching your heart because if you let those walls down, he would invade you and then there would be no going back. Instead, you bit over his lower lip and dragged it back between your teeth. Earning a low groan from Jeongguk’s lips, 

“Then act normal.” You whispered back to him, “Start with not breaking into my office uninvited.” You said all this while your hands reached up to smooth through his hair, a hand resting against the back of his head to pull him into you only for him to deepen the kiss. 

He licked over your lower lip and your lips parted for him. Your tongues touched and you heard him let out a soft noise. It sounded like a whine and you hated how fast your core throbbed at the sound. You both lazily let your tongues explore each other and then as he broke away from your lips, he whispered with a jagged breath, a string of spit hanging between your lips, “I just want you so bad.” He gazed down at you with smoldering eyes, “In every way.” He whispered, dark eyes devouring your very existence with just a look. 

“Lord. Fuck. Shut up and stop talking.” You spat out quickly, stealing a glance up at him with a flushed face. You felt a full body shiver go right through you as you stared into his eyes. You felt dizzy and there was a throb between your thighs you simply couldn’t ignore any longer. 

Jeongguk had his eyes on the sheen of spit on your lips and then his trance fixed on the blush on your cheeks before he tilted his head to the side with question, 

“Why? Am I making you wet?” He asked with a smile. 

“Drying up as we speak actually.” You lied. Painfully. 

“Yeah?” He mused, “Can I check?”

“No. Cuz there’s nothing to see. Trust me.” You lied through your teeth as your feet planted firmly on the ground where you stood, “But if you can move me, sure.” Despite grounding yourself to the floor of your office like a pillar, you could feel the wobble of your knees and you knew with just one easy move, Jungkook could flip you around like a pancake and do anything he wanted. 

And that he did. One hand landed roughly against your hip and the other reached around to rest along your lower back, spinning you around in one quick maneuver and pressing the front of your body up against your desk, making your hands fly out on top of the surface to catch yourself from planting face first into it, 

“That was too easy.” He cooed out triumphantly, “You sure there’s nothing to see?” He asked, eyes glancing at you as you turned your head to gawk in shock at him, “Speak.” He instructed you, “Tell me the truth, honey. I’m giving you the chance because I’m a good man.” 

You gasped as he manhandled you as though he could pick you up and snap you like a twig. The air punched out of your lungs and you lost your balance at once. Pathetically letting him push you downwards onto the desk with one large hand pressing against back of your head while the other traced along the hem of your dress only to hike it up slowly, 

“Good man.” You puffed out an exhale and laughed in disbelief, struggling to turn your head to look at him, “Nothing about you is good.” You mumbled into the desk, fingers curled under the wood of it while you tried not to raise your ass up as Jeongguk leaned down to press his chest against your back to hold you still, his groin digging into the bare skin along the backs of your thighs while his knee pushed between your thighs easily to spread them apart, 

The graze of your heels skidding across the floor as Jeongguk shoved your legs apart with his knee echoed through the office and you genuinely wanted to die at how loud it sounded. If anyone was outside the door right now, they could easily hear everything else. Your stomach twisted with excitement at that and then you had to remind yourself that you weren’t going to fold this easily. 

You weren’t going to give in. Weren’t going to let him have you that easily. Weren’t going to… oh fuck…. But Jeongguk’s pierced lips were at the shell of your ear now. Kissing over the dangly earrings you were wearing today. Warm lips moving from your ear to the side of your neck. Trailing heated kisses against your soft skin. Making your eyelids droop and head lull back to give him more space to run those smooth lips along your jugular. 

Sweet nothings spilled from his lips with ease. Telling you how much he wanted you. How bad he missed you. Whispering next about something heinous that only made your thoughts cloud from the obscenities spilling out his mouth. 

Large hands roamed around your body. Grabbing and massaging over every inch of you. Squeezing over your breasts. Your hips. Your ass. Complementing the shape of your body. Your curves that fit like a puzzle into him. How perfect you were. How much he wanted you to the point where he couldn’t breathe right. 

And you listened to it all. Listened because he was speaking the damn truth. 

What weren’t you going to do again? 

“I’m gonna ignore you and give you what you want now.” Jeongguk said lastly, his nose grazing over your temple as he pushed your dress up to your waist with one hand. One large palm splaying over the curve over your ass as the dress exposed you, “Mmm. I bought you these.” He commented on the black panties you were wearing, giving the tender flesh of your ass a firm squeeze, “The fortune I’ve spent on you yet you still treat me like shit.” He cursed, tattooed fingers now playing with the waistband of your panties, “Ungrateful fucking woman.” The words came out like venom and your ears burned with shame because you fucking loved it. Sick. 

“Treat you like shit?” You laughed into the desk, trying to move so that you could send a death glare over to his direction but it was no use. He was covering over you like the heaviest weighted blanket in the entire world. Your chest heaved against the wood you were pinned to and you could feel the heat pricking along your skin as his hands roamed with free will over your bare skin, 

“You disappear when it suits you. Lie to my fucking face. Break into my office.” You shook your head, “Maybe I treat you like shit because you keep giving me reasons to.” You argued back with a fleeting moment of confidence and then your lips clamped shut and jaw clenched at once as you felt him pressing his fingertips up against the warmth over your panties.

Your vision blurred at the feeling. His touch ghosted over you. Barely there but still feeling heavy at the same time. You knew you were soaking through your underwear already and you silently cursed your body for betraying you. You sucked in a deep breath when you felt the digits press up against the dampness already there and you felt the smirk along Jeongguk’s pierced lip as he pulled away from you only to wrench your panties to the side. 

“Shut up.” Jeongguk spat the command out and you knew you struck a chord at that. Good. 

You celebrated the victorious moment of pushing his buttons. The victory reigned only for a split second though before you felt the familiar intrusion of his fingertips running over your folds from behind. A weak whine escaped your parted lips at that and Jeongguk huffed, his movements halting at once, “You’re gonna stay quiet for me, yeah?” He murmured gruffly and didn’t move until you verbally agreed to hush your mouth. 

“Fuck.” Your forehead thumped against the top of your desk and your eyes squeezed shut, face burning with pride before you finally blew out a frustrated breath and nodded submissively, “Y-Yes.” You whimpered, your waist unconsciously pushing back against Jeongguk’s fingers. 

“Mmm.” Jeongguk hummed out proudly, “I know you’re only being like this because you missed me too. You’re just too fuckin’ stubborn to admit it. But it's okay.” He crooned mockingly, “Let me take care of you now, my love.” His voice dropped to a sweet octave despite the curses he was slewing earlier, “Don’t you want me to touch you?” He asked, fingers running over your dripping folds and a hasty breath leaving his lips, 

“Poor little thing. So wet because of me.” He tutted, “Lying to yourself for what?” Two fingers pushed at your entrance at that, stretching you apart just from the width of his fingers alone, “Lying to me for what?” A low groan escaped his throat, fingers pushing and curling into you. 

You could hear the squelch of your wetness when his tatted digits pushed into you and it should have embarrassed you but instead, you rocked backwards at once. Hands gripping over each side of your desk as your head raised to tip back. 

Fuck, you hated what he did to you. Hated how fast your body reacted to his attention. You wanted to slap yourself and scream to get a fucking grip. But it was so fucking hard to resist him. He knew you inside out. Knew just what to do to make you crave him even though he wasn’t good for you. 

A soft moan left your lips feeling those skilled fingers inside of your tight walls. The moan was a fucking accident. You didn’t mean to but how couldn’t you when this man was on you the way he was? Your body felt like it had been lit on fire and all you could do was just feel. 

That’s when you felt a strong arm wrap around the front of your chest to haul you up off the desk, keeping your back arched as his large palm clasped over your mouth at once, holding you in place while his fingers worked their magic in you at the same time, “Gonna get yourself fucking caught.” Jeongguk grumbled against the side of your head, “Want people to see you like this? Slutted out with my fingers in you?” He painted the picture of your coworkers having their own exhibition of the two of you and you could only shake your head weakly with his hand over your lips. 

The response made Jeongguk let out a soft chuckle, “Thought so. That wouldn’t be so professional of you, would it?” He murmured, pulling his fingers out of you only to reach lower between your thighs to press his sopping fingers up against your swollen clit, “What would they think of you if they saw?” He gently rubbed circles over the bundle of nerves and your lips trembled against his fingers clamped tight over your mouth in response, “Yeah. Exactly.” He answered although you couldn’t speak but the terror and mild excitement of being caught shining in your eyes was enough for him. 

Your body writhed in response to his touch. He didn’t relent. Continuing to move his fingers skillfully along you. You couldn’t make noise but you could bite. And so, your teeth sunk into the palm of his hand. Digging hard into his flesh. Which only made Jeongguk grunt out softly with approval from the pain. You whimpered against his skin next and Jeongguk removed his hand from over your mouth to let you breathe, 

“Fucking hell.” You whispered when you were freed and inhaled a sharp breath then leaned down to rest against the desk as Jeongguk pushed you back down only for him to drop onto his knees behind you, making your legs spread wider as he reached up towards your panties and grabbed them by the waistband to pull them down to your ankles, 

“Fuck. Wh–” You could hardly speak, “What are you doing?” You breathed out, hands on top of the desk curling into the wood. You were too spent to lift your head to look anymore instead, you just… felt. 

“Teaching you how to be fucking grateful.” Jeongguk drawled out as he pushed your asscheeks apart and buried his face into you without warning. His tongue gliding between your folds in one hot, languid motion. 

Your vision went white and your back instantly arched for more. Body jolting. His nose pressed into you while his tongue lapped at you from behind, hands over your ass kneading and squeezing painfully at the flesh, 

“Taste so fucking good.” He nearly growled as he pulled back and that’s when you felt him spitting over your pussy. You could feel the saliva drip downwards and you whined pathetically from it, unable to hold your body still, “Then you wonder why I’m fucking crazy about you.” He whispered then he was back where you needed him to be the most, sucking over your dripping heat as though he were trying to drink your juices up. 

Your head flopped down to rest over your forearms and your nails scratched over your desktop. Small whimpers falling out from your lips and getting muffled by the surface of the desk. You could feel the drool slipping out of your mouth and pooling into a little puddle along the wood as you let him devour you from behind. Whatever the hell he was doing with his mouth right now was sending you closer and closer to the edge and you couldn’t even make a single peep to let him know how good he made you feel. 

The pads of his fingers dug into your asscheeks to spread you wider and you swore you wouldn’t be able to sit down for the next three business days after he let go of you from the grip he had. Your body went into a permanent jello state. Pliant. Wobbling and unsteady as you tried to fight the coils tightening within the pit of your stomach. 

“Apologize.” Jeongguk commanded as he pulled back suddenly. 

You almost cried from the loss of feeling and only then did you dare to turn to look over your shoulder at the man on his knees behind you. His eyes were blown. Fucked out just eating you out alone. Lips glossy and red. Hair a dishevelled mess. Chest heaving. Gaze locked on you like a fucking demon, 

“Say sorry for being ungrateful.” Jeongguk nodded, hands roaming down from your ass to your thighs, nails scraping over you and making you whimper before he slowly rose to his feet, the back of his hand wiping over his mouth.

You twisted around finally and swallowed hard because suddenly having to apologize to this insolent man made you want to jump out of the nearest window. Jeongguk didn’t relent though. Instead, he smiled. That fucking ridiculous smile he did when he knew he had you right he wanted you to be. Wrapped around his finger. Or his mouth, actually. 

“You’ve lost your entire mind.” You breathed hard, struggling to stand up straight from the ravaging. You were so close before. So close to gushing onto his tongue. And now with every weak movement you made, it felt like you were going to explode with no contact at all. 

You dragged yourself up onto the desk to sit there, taking a moment to gather yourself. You could feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Hair falling out of the once neat bun it was tied in. Glasses almost at the end of your nose. Beads of sweat lining your hairline. Eyes unfocused. Clit throbbing with the need for attention. Panties still hooked carelessly around your ankles. 

You only needed a second. A second to collect your thoughts so you could kick this man out of your office for not letting you come but it was a second too late because Jeongguk was already over you. Standing between your spent knees and pulling you to the very edge of the desk by your legs before you could even get your clothing fixed back into place.  

“Say sorry and I’ll fuck you.” He nodded, “Isn’t that a good compromise?” He tilted his head as though his offer was the most reasonable thing in the world. 

You would rather the earth break open and suck you into hell than apologize. The very thought of saying sorry for being a human with feelings was humiliating. Saying sorry because he invaded your space yet again like he owned you? Fuck right off, Jeon Jeongguk.  Go to fucking hell. 

You wished you had a gun to shoot yourself instead. 

Apologizing so he could dick you down? 

Absolutely fucking no–

“Sorry.” You whispered quickly, “I’m sorry.” You said again. The shame and humiliation burned on your face like fire but Jeongguk wasted no time in letting you dwell on that because next thing you knew, he had his fingers over the buckle of his belt. Eyes on your own as he undid his jeans and inched them down next just enough for the 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 whole ass inches of his dick to swing out and bounce heavily as though it simply couldn’t wait for this moment just like you. 

“See? That’s all you had to do.” Jeongguk teased, one hand hooking under your thigh to raise it up and wrap it around his waist. The panties stuck around your ankles slipped when he lifted your thigh only for the fabric to dangle carelessly off your other foot instead as you leaned back on your elbows and stared up at him with glossy eyes and wordless lips. 

Jeongguk tugged you closer to him, one hand wrapping around the base of his length as he slapped the tip of his precum pooled dick up against your clit at once, dragging the precum over your clit and between your folds until he was pressing up against the tight heat of your entrance.

Again, a fucking miserable and nearly borderline embarrassing whimper escaped you from the feeling and the sounds filled the four walls of your office. Lord, the sounds. Wet wasn’t even a word to describe you anymore. You were practically leaking. Soaking. Gushing. You had to bite your tongue at once to stop any more noises leaving your lips when Jeongguk’s gaze snapped to look at you with a silent warning to stay quiet. 

“Was that so hard, darling?” His voice was thick and laced with pure honey as he continued dragging his length over your bundle of nerves then barely dipping the tip of his cock into you. Teasing you. Dragging it out to bring you to the brink of insanity. 

You could barely keep your eyes open let alone answer as you watched him bend his head next and let his spit trickle out of his red lips. Making it land right where the head of his dick and your entry met. 

“You won’t do it again, right?” He asked after, guiding himself to dip into your entrance once more. The nasty wet sound filling your ears and making your eyelids flutter, “You’ll be a good girl from now on, yeah?” He pushed his cock past your ring of tightness as he inched into you and cursed quietly from the feeling of your walls instantly gripping him. 

Your vision hazed almost immediately at the feeling. Lips pressing together tight to stop yourself from letting out the strangled cry that threatened to break free from your throat. No surface was strong enough for you to grab onto to brace yourself from the pleasure crawling over your skin already. 

You grabbed onto the leather of his jacket with one hand for support. The other landing on top of the desk to hold onto the edge of it tight enough to turn your knuckles white, “F…Fuck.. Yes.. I’m sorry.. I’m fucking sorry… I’ll be a good girl. I promise.” You nearly sobbed, “Please just fuck me.” You begged, knowing how much it turned him on when he turned you into a pleading mess. 

The power of having you spread wide on top of your desk under Jeongguk’s command in your very office shouldn’t have turned him on the way it did. It was kind of twisted how much his dick throbbed at the feeling of having you like this. With your lipstick smeared. Drool spilling out from the corners of your mouth. Glasses shifted and lenses fogged up from the heat shared between you two. Tears stuck to your lashes already and he wasn’t even all the way inside of you yet. It was so fucking sexy. And he felt like a king because of it. 

“That’s my girl.” Jeongguk praised, words slurring while he raised your thigh higher when it threatened to drop from around his waist, “And you’re gonna let me come see you here whenever I fucking want, right?” He asked as the rest of his length sunk into you, filling you up entirely and stretching you apart, “Gonna let me do whatever the fuck I want?” His sexy Busan accent slipped out from his lips as he started to thrust, barely giving you time to adjust. 

You let out a pitiful whine and nodded sharply, struggling to form a breath let alone coherent words, “Anything you want.” You managed to respond and then he was thrusting. Making slow, deliberate plunges in and out of you. Dragging his length against your walls so slow you could practically feel the veins along his girth throbbing. 

“That’s right.” Jeongguk mused with satisfaction, “Anything I fuckin’ want.” He nodded quickly, freehand reaching down to you for his fingers to clasp under your chin and wrap around your throat. Forcing you to raise your head and look into his eyes as his thumb and index finger on either side of your neck squeezed along those two points to constrict your breathing just a bit. Timing his thrusts to hit right after he squeezed at your throat. 

Only he could do this. Only he knew just what to do to make you feel him everywhere all at once. He was so fucking good at making your body arch and shake. How could you ever stay away from this? 

The magical curve of his length touched the sweet spot inside of you along with your breaths constricting instantly had you almost black out from the feeling, “Fuck– right there. Yes.” You whispered, “Feels so good.” You babbled, reaching up to hold onto his wrist where he held you by the throat, “More, baby.” You pleaded, nails digging into his skin to make him increase the pressure on your neck more but not to totally stop you from breathing. 

He didn’t crush your windpipe. Only squeezed under your jaw lightly to make it the oxygen drain from your lungs and brain just enough, “So fucking good.” You nodded mindlessly and slurred the words out. Drunk on lust and Jeongguk. Your wrist twisted the material of his jacket and you pulled him closer, making him fuck you deeper. 

He let go of your neck and grabbed your hand that was wrapped into his jacket to bring your fingers to his mouth, wrapping his wet lips around your index and middle fingers to suck over them. He coated the digits with his saliva. Taking his time. Making you watch him with blown pupils. Making it sloppy just the way he liked. And then he released them with a lewd pop before saying, “Touch yourself for me.” 

Weakly you reached down between the two of you and pressed your two fingers up against your throbbing clit at Jeongguk’s instruction. Dragging them over the bud slowly before gasping softly. Your toes curled and your walls squeezed at his length. You were so sensitive. And you knew it wouldn’t take much to come if you continued this way. 

Jeongguk waited for you to move your fingers and you both locked gazes as you began to rub circles around your clit. Your chest felt as though it were about to cave in on itself and you shook your head quickly as he began to thrust again. The feeling was too much. You had barely touched yourself and you were already seeing white. 

A small cry broke free from you and your head dropped back, glasses sliding backwards off your face in a careless fashion and falling onto the desk with a clatter as you started to tremble, “I’m– Fuck. Please. Please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. You just didn’t want him to stop. You were teetering on the edge. Feeling the intense pressure building up higher, higher and higher and then you were unraveling right before Jeongguk’s eyes. 

“My pretty girl.” Jeongguk rasped, hips snapping up to fuck you through the orgasm unleashing through you powerfully, “Fuck, I can feel you creaming all over my dick.” You only whined ridiculously in response while he cooed out to you sweetly, “I know, doll. I know. Feels too good, huh?” He hummed with approval, a proud smile flashing over his lips, 

“Let me fill you up, kay’?” The words spilling from his lips started to stutter along with the rhythm of his thrusts. It was like watching you come took him right to the edge and pushed him off faster than fucking you ever could, “Fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up.” He swore, burying his dick all the way into you with one more brutal thrust and then he was emptying himself into you with a harsh hiss followed by a deep groan. 

You were floating on a cloud. Barely registering anything except the sync of Jeongguk’s waist moving in you. You felt his grip around your thigh tighten and then he slammed his length into you. Rocking his hips in a circle. And finally you felt the heat of him spurting his release into you. Filling you up just like he promised. 

You thanked him like the cock hungry slut you were. Eyes rolling back to a close as you relished in the feeling before he pulled out of you at once and left you empty. Making you let out a tiny whimper from the loss of feeling him inside of you.

Meanwhile Jeongguk looked like he had barely broken a sweat. If it weren’t for his unbuttoned jeans that he already tucked his dick back into, you would have never known he just fucked the life out of you. His leather jacket was fitted perfectly back into place. Tight compression shirt smoothed down and stuck to his abdomen. Hair pushed back into its rightful place. And he was already collecting his sunglasses and earpiece where he had left it on your desk, pushing the earpiece into the back of his jeans and taking his phone out to check it. 

“Feel better now?” He asked with a hum of interest, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he stood in front of you. Funny that he was trying to sound casual as if he didn’t just make you forget your full government name just a few seconds ago, “Next time, just say you missed me. It’ll make it easier for both of us.” He chided although there was the faintest hint of a smile along his lips as he buckled his belt. 

“Well, um.” You slowly sat up in a daze, “So…” You shook your head and gingerly slid off the desk. Landing on your feet and fixing them back into your heels that had almost slid off, “Okay...” You finally breathed out with a loss for words, leaning down to pull your underwear back on clumsily. 

Your hands were shaking from the aftershock still. You wanted to say you felt like a new person, really but you knew that would only make Jeongguk’s already giant head swell more. So, you sighed out tiredly and fixed your clothes. Picking up your glasses that had toppled off your face. You placed the lenses on top of your head and circled around the desk slowly. Grabbing a tissue from the box near your computer to wipe away his release that had already begun to trickle down the inside of your leg. 

“You good?” He asked as he watched you struggle to pull yourself together but he made no effort to help because the view of you shakily fixing your appearance made him ecstatic. 

You ignored him and wordlessly balled up the tissue then tossed it into the trash before wobbling on weak knees to your desk chair. You plopped down with a sigh and grabbed your compact mirror, opening it to look at your reflection. Immediately beginning to wipe under your eyes and the corners of your lips where your makeup had smeared. 

Jeongguk's eyes drifted to the watch face on his inner wrist and a quiet exhale left him.

Almost six. 

He made his way over to wear you sat and he leaned against the edge of the desk, reaching out to cup your face with both his hands. Making you tear your attention away from the mirror in your hands as he lifted your head up to look into his eyes when he gazed down at you, “You alright, baby?” He asked, thumbs swiping across your cheeks where your tears had stained your skin, 

“I’m okay.” You nodded, staring up at his face. His expression was unreadable. But his eyes held a warmth behind them that you only saw when he was looking at you, “I might have been a bit of a bitch earlier.” You admitted, “I’m sorry.” You said earnestly this time, slowly standing up and letting Jeongguk tower over you while you felt his strong arms slide around your waist protectively, “Maybe I’ll just be honest and tell you how I feel from now on.” You grumbled the last part out, eyes shifting away from his intense stare. 

Your words settled deep in Jeongguk’s heart and he couldn’t help the warmth fanning out through his chest from it, “That’s progress.” Jeongguk mused out with a nod, “Maybe I’ll ask you before I show up here next time.” He paused, “No promises though.” He added with a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. 

You simply huffed in response. Too tired to even argue about how insanely annoying it was that he was borderline stalking you. Instead, your head dropped against the front of his chest while your arms tucked under his jacket and slid around his abdomen. You could barely wrap your arms around his wide frame but you clung onto him anyways. Inhaling the leather and cologne stuck to his clothes and skin. 

You both hugged each other quietly for a long moment. No words needed to be said. Your mind was goop anyway. Jeongguk seemed perfectly content with the silence too. He pressed his face against the top of your head. Breathing in your scent. Fingers trailing down your spine before he began to shift, his hand lingering along your lower back as though he didn’t quite want to pull away yet, 

“Want me to take you home? I gotta go walk that dog.” He mumbled, jaw shifting in place with mild irritation. 

He didn’t have anywhere else to be but he knew Mrs. Grey… that old hag would be waiting by her front door with Pebbles. Leash already in hand. And undoubtedly wondering where he was. Yeah, he could flake on her but Jeongguk made a promise. And unlike most people, he intended to keep it. 

“I’m already behind on work because of you so, no.” You nodded and began to pull away from his hold to sit back down on your chair. 

Jeongguk’s attention stayed on you, “Right, right.” He nodded with understanding because he knew how seriously you took your job. That was one thing he actually didn’t mess with when it came to you. Even if he invaded your office and spent the better part of an hour distracting the shit out of you. Still, this job was everything to you. He had already taken up too much of your time anyways. 

"You busy later?" He asked as he began to make his way to the door, "You could come over." He nodded, “I can cook us dinner for a change.” 

You let out a soft breath, already knowing the weight behind his invitation. Although you did miss Jeongguk’s cooking. He was a far better cook than you. You had plans you couldn’t cancel. Plans you weren’t going to ditch just for him because that’s what you used to do when you were his puppet. Not anymore. 

You held his gaze before giving him a small shake of your head, "Can't. I'm meeting my coworkers. And a few clients. We're going to the club after work." You nodded as your gaze drifted down to your haphazard appearance, “Well, after I go home and shower now.” You added the last part with a faint smile

His jaw tightened once before relaxing again. His tongue pressed briefly against the inside of his cheek, eyes dropping to the floor for the briefest second as though he were sorting through a dozen thoughts he had no intention of sharing before he finally asked, 

“What’s the club called?" He questioned you with curiosity in his eyes. 

You paused, trying to remember, “I think it’s called…” You thought more then you shrugged, "The violet rectangle or something like that." 

That wasn’t even the right name, you silly goose. But Jeongguk knew where you were going immediately anyway. The Purple Circle. 

The club wasn’t famous but he had been there before. It was a place where powerful people gathered because they believed the flashing lights and expensive drinks made them untouchable. A place where conversations happened in corners and deals were made beneath the noise.

He wasn’t visiting as a guest that time. He came in as The Ghost. Blending into the crowd and following another figure who’s shadow was swallowed by the movement of people dancing and lights. The place where he followed a man into the bathroom stalls and ended his life with a knife to his neck. Slipping out into the night soon after with not a drop of blood or a single scratch on him. 

Hearing you casually mention going there with coworkers and clients, the memory surfaced without permission. The same walls. The same thunderous music. The place where he had once entered for work.

And now you were going there. A part of him was bothered by you going to that place in particular. Not due to the fact that you would be with your fellow friends and coworkers. It was more about the fact that a place he associated with blood deals and secrets had somehow become part of ordinary life. Exposing innocent patrons to the atrocities people in his world conducted in plain sight. 

Jeongguk looked back at you with his expression carefully neutral. You had no idea. No idea how familiar The Purple Circle was to him. But he nodded anyway and his jaw clenched for a moment before he turned away, “Call me if you need me.” He reached for the doorknob, the leather of his jacket shifting as he moved. 

Before opening the door, he paused long enough to slide his sunglasses back into place over his eyes. The dark tint of the lenses separating him and the rest of the world, "And be careful." He said finally. 

You opened your mouth to respond. You weren't even sure what you were going to say. Maybe a sarcastic comment. Maybe a reluctant goodbye. Maybe something softer that you would immediately regret letting him hear. But you never got the chance because Jeongguk was already gone. The door closing behind him with a quiet click. 

You sat there for longer after Jeongguk left. Deep in thought. Eyes on the door he had left through. Memories of those heated moments you spent with him just a breath ago played behind your eyes like a movie scene. 

He crossed a boundary and made you apologize for it. Manipulated you into thinking you were in the wrong. He didn’t even feel bad for it all because he thought he was doing the right thing. Thought protecting you meant control. 

Thoughts of the ghost that haunted you plagued your mind because after all those evenings spent together. After all the dinners and conversations that stretched longer than either of you expected, you had started to believe maybe you were finding your way back to each other. 

It wasn't just that he had broken into your office. It was that some part of him still believed he could. That loving you meant having access to every part of your life. That protecting you meant crossing every boundary you tried to set.

You hated that he didn't see the difference. Hated that you didn’t confront him for it either. 

You stood up and crossed to your office door. Making a split second decision. Your fingers hovered over the screen to change the passcode. You hesitated for a long moment.  

Maybe Jeongguk didn't understand why walking into your office without permission was wrong. Maybe he saw it as concern. Maybe he saw it as love. But you knew better. Love didn't mean someone could unlock every door just because they used to have the key.

Your hand slowly lowered because you couldn't do it. It wasn’t because you didn't think you deserved that boundary. And it wasn’t because you weren't angry. You were fucking furious. 

However, changing the code meant admitting that you were shutting him out completely and somewhere in the dark pit of your heart, you didn’t want to do that at all.

Remember? Crazy matches crazy? Yeah. 

You let out a quiet breath and stepped away from the keypad. The screen eventually went dark. The old code remained. And you really hated yourself a little for it. You knew Jeongguk would probably never understand that this was the part that made him so difficult to leave.

No matter how much he hurt you… some part of you was always leaving the door unlocked.

Jeongguk reached the street to his motorcycle waiting where he had left it earlier. He swung a leg over the bike and sat there for a moment, one hand resting loosely against the handlebar. The other on his leg. 

Your words replayed in his head. The club. The Purple Circle.

A hand slipped into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and his fingers found the familiar shape before he even pulled it out. A crushed pack of menthols. The corners were worn, the cardboard slightly bent from being carried around too long. He turned it over once in his hand before tapping the bottom lightly against his palm.

He pulled one free and placed it at the corner of his lips, lighting the end of it with the click of his lighter. The small flame illuminated his face for a second before disappearing. He took the first drag slowly, letting the menthol settle on his tongue.

The taste was cold. A strange contrast to the warmth still fluttering around in his stomach from being around you. Smoking had never been about enjoying it. It was something to do with his hands when his mind refused to quiet down. And today, his mind wouldn't stop.

His mind ran a marathon. Thinking about the fact that you would be walking into a place tonight he knew far too well about. Not knowing about the things hidden beneath its surface. The fact that he wanted to tell you all about it. The fact that he couldn't.

He knew you weren't a target. You weren't an enemy. You weren't someone he needed to study, track, or anticipate. He still treated you like one though. It was like he was waiting for a threat instead of standing beside the person he loved. 

And then he turned it all around. Making you think you were the one at fault the entire time. 

He knew it wasn't normal. He knew you deserved something softer than the way his mind worked. Jeongguk wanted to be normal more than he would ever admit. He wanted to love you without analyzing every detail. Without needing to know every possibility. Without turning every feeling into something he had to control.

But this life was the only one he knew. Being The Ghost was the only version of himself he had ever been allowed to become. And even when he was with you, he forgot he didn’t need to be a ghost.

The cigarette burned slowly between his lips as he stared out at the street. When it reached the end, he didn't toss it aside. Jeongguk leaned forward instead, carefully pressing the remaining ember out against the metal near the rear of his motorcycle. Close to the tire where it would never be noticed.

Jeongguk waited and made sure it was completely out then he tucked the extinguished cigarette butt into the small sewn pocket hidden inside the lining of his leather jacket. He had learned a long time ago that you leave with everything you came with. That was the rule. No traces. No evidence. Nothing that proved you had ever been there. Disappear completely. Leave nothing behind.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone next, scrolling through his contacts until one name appeared. 책사 (Chaeksa or The Strategist). The call connected instantly. 

"Yeah?"

Jeongguk didn't waste time, "I need a favour.”

“What you need, twin?” Came the voice from the other end of the call. 

“Need a table at The Purple Circle tonight."

On the other end, The Strategist was already figuring out what needed to be done before Jeongguk had even finished explaining what he wanted. 

He wasn’t called The Strategist for nothing. 

Every operation passed through him before it ever reached the field. And people often mistook his composure for kindness. It wasn't. 

He stood tall and composed. Impossible to rattle. His appearance was refined without being flashy. All clean lines, tailored suits and the kind of professionalism that suggested he had no interest in proving his status to anyone. 

There was an intelligence in his face that was difficult to miss. He had sharp dragon-like eyes that seemed to catch details everyone else overlooked. Specks of gray in short black hair. A pair of deepset dimples that kissed his cheeks on the off chance he did crack a smile. 

His strength was never intimidation. It was his mind. He knew things. He remembered things. Everything. Faces, names and conversations spoken months earlier. He could recall insignificant details everyone else dismissed. To him, nothing was insignificant. Every piece belonged somewhere like a puzzle. 

If The Ghost was the blade… The Strategist was the hand that decided where it fell.

"For yourself?" The Strategist asked after a moment. 

Jeongguk confirmed, “Just me.” 

"What time?"

"Before she gets there."

Jeongguk could picture it. The tilt in The Strategist’s expression. The moment where he registered the request without questioning it, "I'll have someone clear the VIP balcony."

"Nah." Jeongguk mumbled into the phone, "I want the main floor."

The words made the silence last a little longer. Jeongguk listened to the timed breaths coming from the other end of the call. There was a long stretch of silence. As though the person on the other end of the line was in utter shock that The Ghost was requesting a table in the middle of the most exclusive club in the city. 

It wasn’t that the request couldn't be done. 

It was because it was Jeongguk making this request because another thing Jeongguk despised more than art was clubs. He hated flashing lights. The fucking noise. The constant movement of strangers around him. He hated environments where everyone was trying to be noticed. And he fucking hated sloppy drunks too. Unfortunately, it just so happened to be that clubs had all those things.

Nevertheless, The Strategist finally said, "I'll make the call."

The line ended at once and Jeongguk slipped his phone back into his jacket and reached down, pulling his gloves out from the seat behind him. Slowly, he pulled them on. One hand. Then the other. The leather tightened around his fingers as he flexed them, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the street in front of him.

The only reason he ever stepped inside places with boisterous noise and drunk idiots was because he had a job to do. But tonight wouldn’t be for business. Tonight, a visit to The Purple Circle wouldn’t be for work. 

And when the time came for the club doors to open later tonight, he would already be seated at a table. Waiting. Yes, The Ghost would be waiting. For you. 

A/N - My own writing stressed me out to the point where I needed to go smoke a cigarette. Anyways, I’m done for the day. See you in the next chapter where I make the ghost do more fucked up shit. 

BTW originally big man was packing 9 inches but i thought that might be tew long for miss girl. 7 inches seemed good enough (ahhh yes the 7 again) dont come for me okay i aint ever seen a big dick irl so idk blame illya rozanov for that or smth

And as always, thanks for reading. I sincerely appreciate every single person that reads and enjoys my incessant rambling. <3

[imnoomin]

♯ IN WHICH, jeon jungkook knew he shouldn't keep coming over, and you knew better than to let him in. but rain has a way of softening bad decisions, and by the time his wife's name lights up your room, he's already too deep in the lie to pretend either of you are innocent.

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「 ( a/n ) ──── hii dumplings, you ask, and you shall receive! '119' series is officially out now. i do wanna apologize for the long awaited update, i've been very busy this prior week and also just celebrated my birthday. so, to make up for that—expect a lot of new work!!!!

119 ᵉᵖ ²

By morning, the ring had become part of the room.

That was the first thing you hated.

Not the fact that it was there. Not the fact that he had left it. Not even the fact that you had agreed to keep it safe, as if safety was something you and jungkook had ever managed to give each other without cutting yourselves on it first.

You hated how quickly your eyes learned where to find it.

On your nightstand, beneath the lamp, beside the little dish where you kept earrings you forgot to put away. A circle of gold sitting where his phone had lit up against your sheets the night before. It caught daylight differently than it had caught lamplight. Under the yellow bulb, it had looked almost soft. In the morning, it looked official. Expensive. Undeniable. A thing made for documents and family dinners with hands held across restaurant tables.

Not your room.

Not your finger.

Not you.

You woke to the rain gone and the city washed pale through the curtains. The sheets were still twisted from the night before, one corner pulled loose from the mattress, the pillow beside yours dented where he had lain too long afterwards. Your body felt heavy in the aftermath, sore in places that made ordinary movement intimate. When you sat up, the robe you had thrown on before sleeping slipped from one shoulder, and the cold air touched your skin.

The ring gleamed.

You looked away.

Your phone was on the mattress beside your thigh, face down. You had not touched it since his last message.

For what it’s worth, I meant what I said before I left.

You had not asked which part because there had been too many possible answers and all of them were useless.

He meant he hated leaving you hurting.

He meant he wanted thursday.

He meant the tenderness, which was worse than desire because it had always been easy to survive. Desire could be blamed on bodies, timing, chemistry, or weakness dressed up as hunger. Tenderness had intention in it. Tenderness looked around your ruined apartment and decided to stay a little longer.

You rose from the bed and crossed the room without looking at the nightstand again.

In the bathroom mirror, your mouth looked swollen. There was a faint mark near your collarbone, hidden if you wore the right shirt and obvious if you did not. You brushed your teeth, washed your face, and stood under the shower until your skin turned warm and your thoughts thinned into steam.

When you returned to the bedroom wrapped in a towel, the ring was still there.

Of course it was.

You made coffee. You watered the plant on the windowsill. You opened your laptop and closed it again after reading the same email three times without understanding a single sentence. Every ordinary object in the apartment seemed annoyed by the intrusion. Keys by the door, mug in the sink, blanket over the couch, receipt from the convenience store still lying on the table. They all belonged to your life, and the ring belonged to his.

Or to hers.

That was the problem with it. It was his ring only because it had first been her promise.

At ten in the morning, your phone lit up.

Jungcuck

Morning

You stared at the message from the kitchen counter.

Too casual. Too careful. The kind of text that pretended nothing had happened while knowing everything had. He was giving you room, or performing the shape of it. Letting the word sit there without asking about the ring because he had already asked and you had already answered. Thursday. Safe. Fine.

You did not reply.

At noon, another message came through.

Jungcuck

are you ignoring me?

That made you laugh under your breath, because he always did that. He held out his hand and called it restraint because he had not grabbed you yet.

You set the phone face down.

By afternoon, you had convinced yourself not answering was the only decent thing left. Every reply would become a hallway with his voice at the end of it. Every sentence would open a door. If you gave him one word, he would find a way to make it warm.

Six in the evening, he sent a voice message.

You lasted eight minutes before playing it.

There was traffic behind him, the low pulse of engines and rainwater under tires even though the rain had stopped. His voice came through, quieter than you expected.

“Hey. I’m not asking you to talk to me.”

A pause.

A soft laugh, almost embarrassed.

“That sounds like I’m asking you to talk to me. I’m not. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You held the phone in your palm and looked toward the bedroom.

“I keep reaching for it,” he said. “That’s all. It’s weird.”

Then, after a second,

“I'll stop, but I’m still coming thursday.”

The message ended there.

No apology. No please. No pet names. Just that one word, thursday, like both of you had agreed to meet at the site of an accident and identify the bodies.

You did not answer.

Wednesday passed with the ring becoming more familiar and less bearable.

It watched you get dressed. It sat beside your bed while you folded laundry. It remained in the same place when you came home from the market with green onions, doenjang, a bunch of perilla leaves the vendor tucked into your bag for free, and a small bag of black rice you regretted buying the moment your hand closed around it.

He liked black rice.

That was the kind of knowledge affairs left behind, small domestic splinters that hurt more than the obvious wounds. The exact brand of coffee he thought was too bitter but drank anyway. The way he slept hot and kicked blankets down around his feet. The fact that he bit the inside of his cheek before admitting something true. The way he washed rice three times and drained it with unnecessary precision, tattooed fingers wet under your kitchen light, almost like he belonged in the quiet parts of your life.

By one in the afternoon, he texted,

Jungcuck

is it still on your nightstand?

You read it twice.

Then put your phone in a drawer.

Two hours later, he sent,

Jungcuck

sorry, ignore that

You did.

At eleven that night, another voice message.

You were in bed when it came, lights off except for the thin blue wash of the city through your curtains. The ring sat within reach, bright in the dark whenever a car passed below and swept headlights across your wall.

You played the message against your better judgment.

For a moment there was only silence. Then his breath. Then his voice, lower than before, rough with fatigue.

“She asked about it.”

Your chest tightened.

“I told her I left it at the gym.”

A pause.

“I don’t know why I said that. First thing that came out.”

Another silence followed, heavier.

“She didn’t believe me.”

You stared at the ceiling.

He exhaled into the phone, and you could picture it too clearly. Somewhere in his house, maybe the bathroom, or the dark side of the kitchen, glasses off, hair messy from running his fingers through it, lip ring caught between his teeth as he tried to think his way out of a thing his body had chosen before his brain arrived.

“I’ll get it tomorrow,” he said. “I won’t stay long.”

The lie sat in your bedroom after the message ended.

You turned the phone face down.

“I won’t stay long,” you repeated into the dark, and the room did not bother pretending to believe him.

Thursday arrived bright and cold.

You were up early, nerves moving under your skin before you even opened your eyes. For several minutes, you lay still and stared at the ceiling, refusing to look right. Refusing to confirm that the ring was still there, as if it might have returned to his hand overnight through sheer shame.

It had not.

You showered longer than necessary. Shaved with the jasmine ooo oil he had bought you from the shop in Itaewon, the one with narrow wooden shelves and amber glass bottles lined up by scent. You remembered him standing behind you there, reading labels over your shoulder, his chin nearly brushing your temple, saying jasmine suited you because it smelled sweet at first and expensive after. You had told him that was a ridiculous thing to say. He had bought it anyway.

Now the scent clung to your legs and arms while you moisturized in the bathroom mirror, skin glossy under the light.

The silk robe came next.

Champagne colored, short, delicate in a way that made your body look less dressed than displayed. The belt tied loosely at your waist. The neckline slipped open the second you moved. You wore nothing underneath, a choice you told yourself had nothing to do with him, which made the lie almost funny.

Your french manicure was still neat, white tips clean against pale pink. Your pedicure matched. Every part of you looked intentional, and that was the point. If you were going to be weak, you wanted at least to look like you had planned it.

You went to the nightstand.

The ring waited where you had left it.

For a while, you only looked at it.

Then you picked it up and slid it onto your left ring finger.

It was not made for you. That was obvious at once. It sat a little too loose, shifting when you lifted your hand, the weight unfamiliar against skin that had no history with it. Still, in the morning light, against your manicure and the soft fall of silk at your wrist, the gold looked almost natural.

Almost.

You took a picture before you could talk yourself out of it.

Just your hand in the strip of sunlight falling across the bed. French tipped nails, silk cuff, his wedding ring turned toward the camera.

No caption.

You sent it.

For five minutes, nothing happened. The image sat beneath his unanswered messages from the past two days, a single photo under all that restrained male patience.

Then his name filled your screen.

Calling.

You let it ring once.

Twice.

You answered on the third ring.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, quietly, “So you are alive.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Hello to you too.”

The sound he made was not quite a laugh and not quite a breath. “Two days,” he said, voice low and tight, as if he had stepped out of a meeting and straight into a locked room inside himself. “Two days of silence, and this is what you send me?”

You moved toward the living room, phone against your ear, robe whispering around your thighs. “What?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about.” A sound on his end, the creak of a chair. He was leaning back. You could picture it with nauseating clarity. "You sent me a picture of my wedding ring on your finger."

"I did."

"...While I was in a meeting."

"I didn't know you were in a meeting."

"지랄." bullshit.

"I didn't."

"You know my schedule."

That was true. You did. Not because he'd given it to you formally, but because you'd absorbed it the way you absorbed everything about him. Passively, osmotically, against your own will. You knew his meetings ran a little after 1 on monday's and thursday's. You knew he checked his phone the second they ended.

And you knew the photo would be the first thing he saw.

"Maybe.. I just missed you," you said.

He went quiet.

“Also proof I kept it safe, just for you.”

“That’s not safe.”

“No?” You looked down at the ring as you sat on the couch. The band sliding slightly when your fingers bend. “I thought you’d appreciate knowing I hadn’t gotten rid of it.”

“You kept the ring.”

“Mm,” you nod, though you knew he couldn't see.

“And you thought sending me proof was a good idea?”

“Apparently not.”

“No.” His voice dropped. “Not if you expect me to think about anything else for the rest of the day.”

You glanced down at the ring again, turning it with your thumb.

“Well, you shouldn't have forgotten it in the first place."

Silence.

“Take it off.”

“You keep giving me orders from places you can’t enforce them.”

Another pause followed, dense enough to feel like his hand had closed around the line.

He was in his office, you could hear it. The climate control, the muted city behind thick glass, the distant hush of a workplace continuing beyond a closed door.

You imagined him too easily because he was always the same at work in the ways that ruined you. Dark shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, black ink crossing muscle and tendon, expensive watch at his left wrist, glasses low on his nose after too many hours of screens. His thighs tense beneath tailored slacks. His hair pushed back, then falling forward anyway. His lip ring catching when his tongue worried at it.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said.

“Not as much as you are.”

His silence was answer enough.

Then he laughed, quiet and self-hating. “Yeah. Probably not.”

You leaned back, and the robe fell open at your chest. Cool air touched your skin. You didn't fix it.

“Are you alone?” he asked.

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Answer it anyway.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

You looked toward the bedroom, where the nightstand was now empty. “No, actually.”

His breathing changed.

“What?”

“You’re here too. Kind of.”

He did not answer for a long moment. When he did, his voice had lost some of its edge. “Stop saying it like that.”

“Like what—”

“Like It has some underlying meaning.”

You smiled faintly. “Doesn’t it?”

The quiet stretched.

He broke it first, softer than before. “You sleep last night?”

You should have lied. You almost did.

“No.”

His exhale moved through the phone with too much understanding.

“Me neither,” he said.

Neither of you filled the space after that. The silence was not empty. It had two nights in it, two separate beds, one missing ring, one wife choosing not to ask until she did. You wondered if sowon had slept beside him with her back turned. Wondered if he had looked at his bare hand in the dark and thought of your nightstand.

You wondered if that made you cruel.

Then decided it did.

“What are you wearing?” he asked.

The question slid into the silence like a blade warmed first.

“Jungkook.”

“I’m asking.”

“You’re also at work.”

“My door is closed.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“No,” he said, voice dropping. “It makes it worse. Tell me.”

You looked down at yourself. The robe had loosened almost completely, one side slipping from your shoulder, the silk barely covering the swell of your breasts. Your bare thighs were folded beneath you, skin smooth and glossy from the oil. His ring sat on your hand, bright and wrong.

“Robe.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

“You know which one.”

“The short one?”

“Mm,” you agree.

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

His curse came under his breath, rough and immediate. You heard his chair creak. The quiet scrape as he shifted. Then the faint click of metal against his teeth.

“You planned this,” he said.

You smiled. “I think you give me too much credit.”

“Do I?”

“You called me.”

“After you sent the picture.”

“You could've ignored it, jungkook.”

He let out a slow breath.

“You know me better than that.”

His breathing changed again, deeper this time. Your mind supplied the rest before your pride could stop it, the phone in one hand, the other somewhere along his thigh.

“Talk to me,” he said.

“I am.”

“About normal things.”

“You want normal from me while your ring is on my finger?”

“I want your voice,” he said, and the words came out stripped down, almost irritated by their own honesty. “Talk about anything.”

You closed your eyes.

This was the part that should have been easiest to deny him. Sex had momentum. Arguments had heat. But this, his request for your voice after a long meeting and two days of not having it, went somewhere lower than arousal.

“I went to the market yesterday,” you said.

His exhale softened immediately. “Yeah?”

“The corner one. The same ajumma who thinks I’m too skinny gave me extra perilla leaves again.”

“She likes you.”

“When she insults me every time?”

“That's how she likes you.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. “I bought doenjang, green onions, and some black rice.”

A pause.

“I thought you hated black rice?” he said.

“I do.”

“Then why buy it?”

You turned the ring on your finger. “Maybe I’m trying to become a better person.”

“That’d be new for both of us.”

The laugh that left you was small and unwilling. His followed, lower, tired around the edges. For one dangerous second, the call felt almost normal, almost domestic, as if he were on his way home to you and not hiding in an office from the life he had already chosen.

“What else?” he asked.

“I rearranged my bookshelf.”

“You alphabetized.”

“Why do you sound proud?”

“You alphabetize when you’re avoiding things.”

“And you call me when you should be calling your wife.”

The quiet after that was longer.

“Fair.” he said.

His phone buzzed faintly on his end.

The timing was cruel in the exact way life often was. He went still. You heard it in the sudden absence of all small movement, no chair creak, no breath against the receiver, no restless fingers tapping on a desk. The whole line held its breath.

“Is that her?” you asked.

He didn't answer but took long enough to read it that you already knew it would be something ordinary. Something harmless. Something a decent husband would answer without guilt.

“She’s making galbijjim,” he said. “Asked if I’ll be home on time.”

The sentence sat between you, warm and domestic and unbearable.

“Answer her.”

“I will.”

“Now.”

“In a minute.”

“Jungkook.”

“Give me a minute.”

“She’s waiting.”

“So are you.”

The words landed with no triumph, only exhaustion. You looked down at the ring on your hand and felt a bitterness so sharp it almost steadied you.

“I’m waiting for you to come get your ring,” you said.

“That’s all?”

“That’s all you’re allowed to come for.”

His breathing shifted, and when he spoke again, the command had softened into something closer to defeat.

“Take it off.”

You looked toward the bedroom.

For a few seconds, the meaner part of you considered refusing. Letting him imagine it there all day. Opening the door tonight with his marriage on your hand and your body bare beneath silk. Making him see what he kept doing in a language he could not soften.

But the ring had already worked too well.

You stood and walked into the bedroom.

The nightstand was exactly as it had been when he left, lamp, earrings, the empty space where the ring had sat since tuesday. You slid the band from your finger and placed it back in that same spot. The small sound of metal touching wood felt louder than it should have.

“There,” you said. “It’s back on the nightstand.”

He exhaled. Relief and disappointment braided together.

“Good.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“I’m not.”

“Then come get it.”

“I will.”

“Tonight?”

Silence.

“Tonight,” he said.

You should have heard the lie inside the agreement. Maybe you did.

“After dinner?” you asked.

His silence answered first.

“After dinner,” he said.

“You’re gonna eat her food, lie to her face, and then come here for a ring you should have never taken off.”

“Mm.” he agreed.

The simplicity of it made your stomach twist.

“You’re awful.”

“I am.”

“I'm awful.”

“You are.”

The silence that followed was almost tender.

Then he whispered, “Don’t change.”

Your grip tightened around the phone.

“Go back to work.”

“I’m leaving soon.”

“You said tonight.”

“I know what I said.”

“Jungkook.”

“I’ll see you.”

He hung up before you could utter another word.

For a while after, you sat on the edge of your bed and stared at the ring. Back on the nightstand. Exactly where it had been. Exactly where he expected to find it.

You told yourself he would come after dinner.

You told yourself you had hours.

At three in the afternoon, he knocked.

Three knocks. His rhythm. You'd know it anywhere. Unhurried, confident, the cadence of a man who knew the door would open regardless. You were in the kitchen with a glass of wine you had poured to make the waiting less humiliating, still in the same robe, still bare underneath, still scented faintly of jasmine and bad judgment.

Your stomach flipped.

You looked down at yourself. Silk robe falling open, skin still gleaming, thighs still pressed together against the dull ache he'd left between them an hour ago on the phone. You hadn't changed. Hadn't fixed yourself. Hadn't done a single thing to prepare for him because he wasn't supposed to be here until tonight, after dinner, after sowon, after the pretend game.

Three more knocks. Slightly harder.

You set the wine down and started towards the door, opening it before he had the chance to knock anymore.

Jungkook stood in your hallway still dressed for work. Black slacks, fitted enough to pull across his thighs where the muscle strained the wool. A dark button-up, navy or black, impossible to tell in the hallway light. His collar open by two buttons, sleeves rolled unevenly to his forearms. The tattoo sleeve crawled from beneath the bunched fabric, ink dark and fluid over the cords of his forearms, spilling onto the back of his left hand, disappearing under the face of that heavy watch. His jacket was folded over one arm. Glasses still on. The lip ring caught the fluorescent hallway light, a tiny silver circle at the corner of his mouth that drew your eyes the way it always did.

He looked wrecked.

Not visibly, not to anyone else. To a stranger, he'd look put together. Handsome. The kind of man who turned heads in elevators without noticing. But you weren't a stranger. You could read the tension in his jaw, the way his hair was pushed back too many times by too many frustrated hands, the slight darkness beneath his eyes that said two nights of bad sleep. The way he held himself too still, like something in him would spill if he moved too fast.

His eyes dropped. Down the robe, down your bare legs, down to your feet, french tips on display against your floor. Then back up. Slow. Deliberate.

His jaw ticked.

“You’re early,” you said.

“I left work.”

“I can see that.”

“You gonna let me in or are we doing this in the hallway?”

You stepped back without answering. He came in the way he always came in, without asking, without hesitating, like the threshold was a formality rather than a boundary. His shoes were off before you even had time to think. He moved past you and the scent of him filled the space. Something expensive, woodsy underneath, warm skin over all of it. No trace of her perfume. Not yet.

You watched him walk to your couch and sit.

Not on the chair by the window. Not at the kitchen island. Your couch. The center cushion. He dropped his jacket over the armrest and leaned back, spread his thighs, unconscious, the way big men sit when they stop performing smallness, and dragged a hand through his hair.

He didn't ask permission.

He never did.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said. Not an invitation. An observation.

You closed the door.

He looked at you from across the room. Glasses slightly low on his nose, eyes dark above the wire frames. "I plan to."

You didn't sit. Instead you moved back to the kitchen the long way around, putting the island between you and the couch. Distance. You poured more wine into your glass, took a slow sip, and leaned back against the counter with the marble edge pressing into your lower back.

The robe shifted with the movement. The neckline slipped right, exposing the full curve of your left breast almost to the nipple before the silk caught and held. You didn't fix it. He was watching you too carefully for you to pretend modesty meant anything between you.

"Your ring is on the nightstand," you said. "Bedroom."

“I heard you.”

“Then go get it.”

His gaze moved over you slowly. Not politely.

“Come sit down.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you came here for the ring.” You took another sip. The wine was dry and sharp and did nothing for the heat still living in your lower belly from the phone call. “It's in the bedroom. Go get it and go home.”

"I drove twenty two minutes to get here."

"You drove twenty two minutes to get your ring."

"Right." The corner of his mouth pulled, not quite a smile. The lip ring shifted with it. "That's why I left work early. For the ring."

"Yes."

"On a thursday."

"Yes."

"In the middle of the afternoon."

"Jungkook—"

"Come here."

"No."

The word landed between you and neither of you believed it.

His eyes lingered.

On the slip of your robe, the skin visible at your chest, and every time you raised the glass to your mouth and took a sip.

Then he stood.

Your grip tightened on the wine glass.

He moved toward the hallway that led to your bedroom. Long strides, easy, unhurried. You watched his back, the shirt stretching across his shoulders, the narrow taper of his waist. The way his body moved with that particular grace that made you forget how solid he was until he was close enough to feel.

Then he turned left. Towards you. Not toward the hallway.

"Jungkook."

"What?" Calm. Measured. Closing the distance between the couch and the kitchen island in four steps, rounding the counter corner with his hand trailing along the marble edge.

Three feet away now.

Two.

"I said go get your ring."

"In a minute."

"Now."

He stopped. A foot of space between you. Close enough that his cologne reached you properly. That warm, woody base note mixed with something clean and something darker underneath. Close enough that the shape of his body blocked the late afternoon light from the window and cast you in his shadow.

His eyes moved over your face. Down your throat. To the place where the robe gaped open and the swell of your breast sat perfectly and exposed, skin catching the ambient gold light.

He reached for you.

“Don’t,” you said.

His hand stopped. Hovered. Fingers extended, tattooed knuckles, clean nails, the watch catching light at his wrist. He could have ignored you. Could have closed the gap and put his mouth on yours and swallowed whatever protest you had left. You both knew you'd let him eventually.

But he stopped.

"Go get your ring," you said. Quieter now. Less command, more plea. His lip ring glinting, lower lip full and slightly parted, and if he kissed you right now you wouldn't stop him and you both knew it, and that knowing was the reason you had to say it again. "Please."

Something moved behind his eyes. A flicker. Concession or calculation. You couldn't tell.

He dropped his hand.

And he walked down the hallway to your bedroom without another word.

You exhaled.

Set your wine glass down because your hand was trembling faintly, and you refused to let him see it. Pressed both palms flat against the counter and breathed through the adrenaline spike, through the want, through the sick relief of having held the line for once.

Twenty seconds later, he came back.

The ring sat in his palm. Small, gold, catching light. He walked past the island, past you without looking at you, and sat back down on the couch with the band held loosely between his thumb and forefinger. He didn't put it on. Just held it. Turned it once. Then set it on the cushion beside his thigh like it was an afterthought.

And looked at you.

"Happy?" he said.

"Thrilled."

"Come here."

“No.”

“You're seriously gonna drink wine at me from across the room?”

“I might.”

“You look ridiculous.”

You stared at him. He looked obscene sitting there. Too big for your furniture, too beautiful for your apartment, and too married for the way he was looking at you.

"I shouldn't," you said.

"Mm."

"You should go home."

"Mm."

"Your wife's making you dinner."

His jaw tightened at the mention of her. A micro flinch, the only one he'd give you. His thumb pressed against his bare ring finger, rubbing the groove where gold should sit.

"Come here," he repeated once more for a fourth time. Voice lower. Not a request anymore, a surrender in advance. An admission that he'd sit there all night waiting if he had to, that he'd let you circle and deflect and drink your wine and call him a terrible person, and then he'd say it again, come here.

Until you finally did.

You picked up your wine glass. Took a long sip. Set it down.

Walked around the island.

Crossed the living room.

Stopped in front of him.

From this angle, he had to tilt his head back to look at you. Chin lifted, throat exposed, glasses slipping down his nose. His thighs were spread wide enough that the space between them was an invitation neither of you would call by name. His eyes moved over you without shame.

He reached up.

Fingers finding yours, the left hand. He wrapped his hand around your knuckles and pulled. Gentle. Just enough to shift your weight forward. Just enough to bring you a half step closer until your shins pressed against the couch edge between his knees.

"Closer," he murmured.

You let him guide you forward. Between his thighs now, your legs bracketed by his, the heat of him radiating through his slacks against your bare skin.

Then he interlocked his fingers with yours.

The gesture was so ordinary it gutted you. Not a grab. Not a pull. Just his fingers sliding between yours and holding. Firm, warm, and deliberate. The palm of his hand pressed against the back of yours, his watch cold against your wrist bone.

Your other hand found his thigh. You didn't decide it, your body decided it. Your palm settling against the wool covered muscle, feeling the solidity and tension of him beneath fabric. His quadricep tensed under your touch and then released.

His free hand came up. Settled on the outside of your thigh, just below the robe's hem. Warm fingers against bare skin. Not moving. Just there. A brand in the shape of his palm.

"I hate you," you whispered.

His thumb stroked once across your knuckles. Back and forth. The pad of it rough against the delicate skin between your fingers.

"I know," he said. "Come here anyway."

Your free hand left his thigh. Slid up the front of his shirt, feeling his stomach contract beneath the fabric, the hard plane of his chest, the notch of his collarbone. Both hands climbed. Over his shoulders, feeling the width and density of muscle under cotton. Up the back of his neck where his hair was slightly damp at the nape.

Your fingers laced behind his head and his face was right there. Tilted up at you, glasses reflecting your shape, mouth parted just enough to show the edge of the lip ring against his lower lip.

You hated yourself.

You hated yourself for the way your body folded toward him like a reflex, for the way your fingers tightened in his hair, for the way your hips shifted forward until the silk robe brushed against the front of his shirt and his breath hit your collarbone in a warm rush.

His hand moved on your thigh. Slid higher. Beneath the robe's hem, fingers curling around the back of your leg, pulling you forward into the space between his thighs until your body pressed against his. His other hand released your interlocked fingers and settled on your hip, gripping through silk, bunching the fabric.

"Kiss me," he said.

You shouldn't.

You really shouldn't.

But you did.

Your mouth found his like it had found his a hundred times before. Inevitable, gravitational, the kind of kiss that felt less like a choice and more like a physical law. His lips were warm and soft and the lip ring pressed cold against your mouth, a sharp point of sensation amidst all that heat. He kissed like he did everything. Slow at first, tasting, learning, making sure. His hand tightened on your hip. Yours tightened in his hair.

Then slow stopped being enough.

His mouth opened against yours, and the kiss went deep, his tongue finding yours, tasting like coffee and urgency, the silver ring at the corner of his lip clicking faintly against your teeth when he tilted his head to get closer. A sound came from him. Low, rumbling, vibrating from his chest into yours where your bodies pressed together. Mmnh. Relief and hunger tangled into a single note.

Your robe was falling open. His hands were responsible. One pulling the silk at your hip, the other sliding up your bare thigh until his fingers met the curve of your ass and gripped. No fabric between his palm and your skin. Just heat. Just his tattooed hand on your naked body while his mouth consumed yours with increasing desperation.

“You’re so selfish,” you murmur softly against his lips.

“Mhm.” he agreed.

“See, you don’t even argue anymore.”

“I’d rather kiss you.”

You should have stepped back.

You rocked against him without meaning to, your hips pressing forward, finding the hard edge of him through his slacks. He groaned into your mouth. Nngh. Guttural and bitten, his hips rolling up to meet you, the thick press of his cock straining against wool meeting the heat between your thighs through nothing but air and silk.

His hands pulled you down, and you went because your body had been waiting for the excuse, knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips, robe splitting open all the way to your waist. The silk slipped off one shoulder, loose and useless, and the first bare press of you against him made the air leave both of you at once.

He was hard beneath you, unmistakably so, the thick ridge of him trapped behind wool, hot and straining against the cradle of your thighs. You felt him through the fabric and still it was too much, a blunt pressure exactly where the ache had been living since his voice had ruined you over the phone.

His head fell back against the couch, throat exposed, jaw slack for half a second before he caught himself and swallowed whatever sound tried to climb out.

You saw it anyway.

That split in the composure. That first fracture.

His glasses had slid low on his nose, the wire frames crooked now from the way you'd held his face when you kissed him. One lens caught the window light and hid his eye, leaving only the other visible, dark and wide and less controlled than he wanted. You reached for them before he could fix them himself.

He went still.

Your fingers touched the bridge of his glasses, light, almost careful. He watched you from beneath lowered lashes as you drew them off his face. Without them, there was nothing left between you and the exhaustion in his eyes. No frame, no office polish, no clever distance.

Just jungkook, pupils blown, lips wet, lip ring glinting where your mouth had worried it, hair pushed back in disarray and already falling forward again.

You folded the glasses slowly and set them on the side table.

When you looked back, he was staring at your mouth.

“You seem nervous,” you whispered.

His laugh came out wrong, thin at the edge, almost a groan. “Yeah?” His voice dropped. “You seem naked.”

Heat flushed through you. “I'm not even doing anything.”

“You’re sitting on me.”

“Hardly.”

His hands tightened at your hips, fingers sinking into silk and skin together. “That’s the problem.”

The admission stirred through you, warm and wicked, and you let your weight settle more fully against him. Not enough to give relief.

Enough to make him feel how close you were, how little separated him from the wet heat he’d made of you and wasn’t allowed to have. The seam of his slacks pressed against your clit, coarse through the fine line of fabric, and your breath hitched despite every effort to hold it steady.

His eyes flicked up to yours immediately.

There he was. Attentive even while unraveling. Greedy for every detail. Hungry for the smallest evidence of your want as if he hadn’t already dragged it out of you piece by piece.

“You’re mean,” he murmured.

“You came over.”

“Mm.” he nodded in agreement.

“In the middle of the day.”

“Mm.”

“For a ring.”

His grip moved, thumbs pressing slow circles into the curve of your hips, his breathing heavier now as you shifted minutely against him. “I’m really starting to hate that ring.”

“Funny. It’s supposed to mean something.”

His jaw flexed. “It does.”

“Not enough.”

He went quiet.

You leaned closer, hands sliding up the front of his shirt, feeling the hard rise of his chest beneath the dark fabric. His heart was going fast. Faster than yours, maybe. The discovery made something tender and vicious bloom behind your ribs.

“You remember where you are?” you said, mouth brushing the corner of his jaw, right where the muscle jumped. “Or did you forget that too?”

He made a sound at that, low and strained, and tipped his head toward you instead of away. He wanted your mouth. You gave him your cheek against his instead, the soft graze of skin, perfume, heat. His hands flexed once, helplessly, as if he had to physically stop himself from turning you under him.

“I didn’t forget.”

“Then say it.”

“Your apartment.”

“And?”

His breath caught against your temple.

“And i'm not supposed to be here.”

You moved before that gentleness could ask something of you. Rolled your hips in a slow drag over him.

His reaction tore through him before he could bury it.

“Shit—” His head dropped back, eyes squeezing shut, mouth falling open around the word. His hips jerked up once, seeking you, and the movement shoved a gasp out of you too, pleasure sparking low and bright.

You froze for half a second, startled by how undone he already was.

Then his hands slid to your lower back and held you there, not forcing, only clutching, like he couldn’t decide whether to keep you still or beg you to do it again.

“Do that again.”

The words were barely shaped, frayed at the ends.

You looked down at him, at the flush climbing his throat, at the damp shine on his lower lip, at the lashes resting against his cheeks because he still hadn’t opened his eyes. His chest rose hard beneath your palms. Every part of him looked too big for restraint now. Too much body, too much want, too much of whatever he spent his daylight hours hiding behind passwords and boardrooms and wedding vows.

You did it again.

Slow. Deliberate. A roll of your hips that dragged your bare center over the rigid length of him, fabric catching just right, pressure blooming sharp enough to make your thighs tense around him. His fingers dug into your robe at your waist and the sound that left him was not a groan this time. It was thinner, needier, almost wounded.

“Fuck, wait—wait.”

You stilled immediately.

His eyes opened. Panic flashed there, followed by shame, followed by naked hunger. “No. Not wait. I mean—don’t stop. I just—” He cut himself off with a harsh exhale and dragged one hand through his hair, ruining it further. “예수.” Jesus.

You studied him. “Already?”

His laugh was breathless and humorless. “You’re naked in my lap.”

“You’ve had me naked before.”

“That’s not helping.”

“It usually does.”

His eyes darkened. “Don't start.”

There was warning in it, but no authority. You could hear the strain under every syllable, the way he was holding himself still with both hands and teeth clenched around restraint. It made your pulse slow in a different way, heavy and deliberate, as if your body had discovered a new kind of power and wanted to savor it.

You cupped his face. Both hands. Forced his attention back to you without force at all.

“Jungkook.”

He looked at you.

The sound of his name on your tongue seemed to hit him harder than your hips had. His lashes fluttered. His breath left him softly.

“Yeah?”

“You better not come.”

His expression shifted, something raw cutting through the lust. “Trying not to.”

That almost broke you.

The honesty of it. The quiet devastation. The way his hands were trembling faintly where they rested against your sides, though his body remained rigid beneath you. He wanted to take. He wanted to ask. He wanted to be punished, maybe. Wanted you to decide what he deserved because he no longer trusted himself with the answer.

Your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones. His skin was warm, slightly rough where he hadn’t shaved close enough this morning. You could smell coffee on his breath, feel the heat of his exhale against your wrist.

“Try harder,”

His throat worked.

You kissed him again, slower this time, not letting him turn it into desperation immediately. His mouth answered with aching restraint, lips parting, tongue touching yours carefully, like obedience had become another form of hunger. The lip ring was cool against you, a tiny metallic pressure that made you press closer. He exhaled into your mouth, a shaken little sound, and his hands moved up your back beneath the robe, palms spreading over bare skin.

The kiss deepened by degrees. His mouth grew less careful. His arms circled you tighter. You felt his cock twitch against you through his slacks, felt the involuntary lift of his hips before he swallowed a groan and forced them down again.

You broke the kiss just enough to speak against his mouth.

“Stay still.”

His eyes shut briefly. “You’re killing me.”

“Good.”

A low, ragged sound left him. “Mmh— you're awful.”

The words should have been arrogant coming from him. They weren’t. They came out wrecked, surrendered, and you felt them everywhere.

You shifted back enough to look at him properly. His shirt was still tucked in, belt still fastened, work clothes immaculate except for the places your hands had wrinkled him. The contrast did something awful to you. Him still dressed, you nearly bare. Him with that ring beside him instead of on him. Him breathing like he had run up every stair to your apartment instead of taking the elevator.

Your hands went to his collar.

He watched you undo the next button, then the next. The dark fabric loosened, revealing the hollow of his throat, the upper line of his chest, golden skin flushed from heat. You pushed the shirt open enough to press your mouth to the exposed skin above his heart.

He made a sound then that had no defense in it.

“Mm—fuck.” His head tipped back, and one hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. He didn’t push. Just held, as if even the weight of your mouth on him was something he needed to survive.

You kissed down the narrow opening of his shirt. Throat. Collarbone. The center of his chest where his heartbeat hammered against your lips. His stomach tightened when your fingers traced lower, not to open his belt, only to follow the line of muscle beneath the fabric.

“Baby,” he breathed, and then seemed to regret it instantly.

You went still.

The word hung in the room between the couch and the wine glass and the ring.

He looked down at you, eyes wide, something terrified and pleading crossing his face. “I—”

“Stop.”

He shut his mouth.

Your hand stayed on his stomach. His muscles jumped under your palm. You could feel every breath he took, uneven and shallow, and you hated that the tenderness in that one slipped word had gotten under your skin faster than any command.

You pushed yourself upright again.

His gaze dropped immediately to your body, and the restraint in him took another visible hit. Your robe had fallen completely open. One sleeve clung to your arm, the rest pooling around your waist and thighs, framing rather than hiding you. His eyes moved over your breasts, your stomach, the place where your hips hovered over his, and his lips parted like he’d forgotten language.

“You’re staring,” you said.

“Mm.” he nodded.

“At least pretend to be ashamed.”

His eyes lifted to yours. “I am ashamed.”

The quiet of it landed heavily.

Then his hands slid up from your hips to your ribs, thumbs grazing just beneath your breasts, reverent and restless. “Doesn’t make me want you less.”

Your breath caught despite yourself.

He saw it, of course he did. His thumbs rose, brushed the undersides of your breasts, and when you didn’t stop him, his palms followed, cupping you with a slow, greedy tenderness that made your body fold toward him. His hands were warm, broad, confident even now, and the tattoos over his fingers flexed darkly against your skin.

He leaned in and kissed the center of your chest.

Once.

Then again, lower.

His mouth found your breast, lips closing around your nipple, and the heat of it punched straight through you. You arched into him with a broken inhale, fingers flying to his hair. He groaned around you, the vibration rolling through tender flesh, and sucked harder when your hips jerked against his.

“Jungkook—”

He answered with another helpless sound, mouth still full of you, one hand squeezing your other breast while his tongue worked in slow, devastating circles. You rocked once, involuntarily, and his entire body reacted. His hips lifted sharply into you, then stopped as he choked on his own groan.

“Sorry,” he rasped against your skin. “Fuck, sorry, I’m trying.”

You stared down at him, stunned by the apology, by the desperation in his face when he released you to look up. His mouth was wet. His hair was caught between your fingers. His eyes were nearly black.

“Trying to what?”

“To not come in my pants like a teenager.”

Heat slammed through you so hard you almost laughed, or sobbed, or kissed him until neither of you could breathe. The blunt honesty stripped away the last clean surface in the room.

“You’re that close?”

He swallowed, looking ruined by the question. “Don't make me answer that.

You rolled your hips lightly.

He broke.

Not completely, but enough. His head fell back, mouth opening around a whine so soft and rough it vibrated through your bones. “Ah—fuck, please.”

Please.

From him, it was indecent.

Your hand tightened in his hair. “Please what?”

His hips twitched again beneath you, stifled, caught, his hands locking around your waist as if holding you still was the only thing keeping him intact. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I know. I just can’t say it without sounding pathetic.” He dragged, eyes squeezed shut, brows drawn together in anguish. “I want you to stop. I want you to keep going. I want to put my hands everywhere and I want you to tell me not to. I don’t fucking know.”

He stopped himself, jaw clamping shut.

The silence that followed was louder than the unfinished threat.

You leaned in, lips at his ear. “You sound pathetic anyway.”

His fingers flexed against your skin, then softened. His voice came out hoarse. “Good.”

Your stomach dropped.

He turned his face slightly, mouth brushing your cheek, breath ragged and hot. “Is that what you want? You want me like this?”

The accusation had no bite. It trembled at the edges.

You pulled back to look at him. “Maybe.”

His gaze searched your face, then dropped to your mouth again. “Then look at me when you do it.”

So you did.

You set both hands on his shoulders and moved over him again, a slow grind that made your clit catch against the hard outline of him, pressure building in a lush, torturous stroke. His eyes stayed on yours for half a second before they fluttered, but he forced them open, obeying his own demand with visible effort.

The sight of him like that was devastating. Shirt open at the collar, cheeks flushed, lips parted, hair wrecked by your hands, no glasses to hide how badly he needed you. His breath came out in broken pieces. Each pass of your hips drew another sound from him, low at first, then higher, strangled, unguarded.

“Nnh—yeah, like that. Fuck, just like that.” His hands slid down to your ass, holding you, not controlling the rhythm so much as surviving it. “You feel so good. You’re not even—God, you’re not even letting me inside you and I’m—”

He cut off on a groan, forehead falling against your shoulder.

You could feel the damp heat of yourself against him now, your body slick enough that every glide left evidence. The front of his slacks was ruined, darkened and creased, his cock trapped and throbbing beneath you. You should have felt embarrassed. You felt viciously alive.

His mouth moved against your shoulder, words half-lost in breath. “I couldn’t work...”

“That's dramatic.”

“I stared at the same email for forty minutes.”

“Poor you.”

“Yeah.” His arms tightened around you, pulling you chest to chest. “Poor me.”

The repetition should have made you angrier. Instead it made your throat tighten, because he sounded like a man standing in the wreckage and naming every piece, unable to pretend he didn’t recognize what he had broken.

You slowed, the motion turning deeper, more intimate, less punishment and more ache. His breath shuddered. His face pressed into the side of your neck, and then he kissed you there, once, open-mouthed and trembling. His teeth grazed the skin below your ear. Not enough to mark. Enough to ask.

You tilted your head despite yourself.

He made a broken sound of gratitude and kissed the offered place again, then lower, along the tendon of your throat, his mouth worshipful now, almost feverish. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, and the other stayed low at your hip, guiding nothing, holding everything.

The pressure between you shifted when you moved. The ridge of him caught perfectly beneath you, and pleasure flashed so sharply that your nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt. You gasped, hips faltering.

His head snapped up.

“There?” he asked, voice shredded.

You didn’t answer quickly enough.

He dragged you over him again, same angle, same pressure, watching your face as your mouth fell open.

“Oh.”

The word left him like a discovery. Like awe. Then he did it again, hands at your hips now, controlled only in the sense that he was using the last of his restraint to keep the motion exactly where you needed it. “There. Yeah, there, I got it.”

“Jungkook—”

“I know.” His voice broke around it. “I’ve got you, baby.”

You were too far gone to correct him this time.

He kept you there, grinding you against him with steady, aching precision, his cock hard and trapped beneath you, his own need turning him ragged while he focused on yours. Every roll dragged a moan out of you, and every moan ruined him further. You could see it happening. The trembling in his arms. The shine gathering on his forehead. The way his mouth kept falling open around sounds he tried to swallow and failed.

“Listen to you,” he whispered, then gave a strangled laugh as if the words had hurt him. “I'm so fucked.”

“You’re talking too much.”

“If I shut up, i'm gonna come...”

The line hit too close.

Your hips slowed.

He realized it immediately. His face changed, regret cutting through the haze. “Don’t stop because of that.”

“Because of what?”

“Because I said it out loud.”

“You say a lot out loud when you’re desperate.”

His hands left your hips and came up to your face, patient now, palms warm against your cheeks. “Yeah. And you like it.”

You looked at him. Really looked.

His eyes were wet at the edges, not with tears exactly, but with pressure, exhaustion, wanting pushed past pride. His thumb brushed your lower lip. It was such a tender touch that your chest hurt worse than anything between your thighs.

“You should put your ring back on.”

His expression tightened.

“That's why you came, right?”

For a moment neither of you moved. Then his gaze dropped to the ring. He stared at it like he didn’t understand how it had gotten there, like someone had planted evidence beside him while he was distracted by the crime.

You reached for it before he could.

His breath stopped.

The gold band was warm from the cushion when you picked it up. Smaller than it should have been for the weight it carried. You held it between you, resting on your fingertip, and watched him watch it.

“Hand.”

He didn’t.

“Jungkook.”

His eyes lifted to yours, and there was something openly pleading in them now. Not sexual. Worse.

“Don’t make me,” he said.

The room went very still.

You felt the words enter you slowly, like cold water under a door.

“I’m not making you do anything.”

“I know.” His voice was barely above breath. “That’s why I can’t.”

The ache in your throat sharpened until it felt like anger because anger was easier, sturdier, something you could stand inside without collapsing. You took his left hand anyway. He let you. His fingers were slack at first, then curled around yours as if he couldn’t help himself.

The pale indentation at the base of his finger was visible. A clean little absence.

You touched the ring to his knuckle.

His eyes closed.

“Put it on,” you said again, softer, hating yourself for the softness.

He shook his head once.

“Jungkook.”

“I hate how empty my hand feels without it.”

You froze.

His eyes opened again, dark and devastated. “And I hate that I don’t want it back on.”

That ruined the last of the room.

Your fingers trembled around the ring. You hated that he saw. You hated that his face changed when he did, all hunger stripped back to tenderness, to guilt, to something far more dangerous than lust.

His hand rose and closed over yours, ring trapped between your palms.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

“No.”

“Please.”

You hated the please most of all.

You looked at him.

His mouth opened, then closed. Whatever he had planned to say didn’t survive your face. You could see the exact second he lost control of the sentence, the way his brow pinched, the way his breath snagged. His hand tightened over yours.

“I love you.”

𐔌 ՞26 © all rights reserved @ imnoomin 𐦯 do not copy, translate, or repost my works without permission.

► reqs masterlist

[yeskookii]

Clingy bf jungkook hc ❀˖° nsfw ver. sfw ver

Tags: explicit content, hes a pervert 🤷🏻‍♀️, idk if jk is a sub or dom here.

Mdni 18+

I know one thing abt clingy jungkook is he loves laying between your thighs when watching tv together. Not only cuz he finds comfort there, but he also would be able to smell ur scent and feel how warm and soft your pussy feels under his neck.

He would pretend to adjust his head just so he takes a small whiff.

He’s unfortunately a pervert when it comes to you.

Jungkook was honestly worried you would be mad at him for being too perverted, but one day when you caught him sniffing your panties in your bedroom, eyes closed, a faint blush on his cheeks as he jerked off. it made you feel some type of way. You ended up riding him all night as you rub your panties over his face.

Jungkook was gone that day, he knew you were the one. He stopped hiding his desires and completely let go.

It’s still surprising to you how much of a clingy horny pup he is. especially when you’re chopping vegetables, you feel him snick to his knees, pressing his face between your thighs and breath you in.

You try to be unfazed by his actions, but it turns you on so much knowing you got this big, muscular man so down bad for you and you’re not even trying.

He’s so obsessed with your touch. pls touch him. It doesn’t matter if it’s an innocent touch , jungkook will get a boner from it.

He gets jealous of your clothes. He’ll peel your jeans down just enough to bite the very top curve of your ass, leaving a mark only he knows is there.

Also he would eat your pussy for hours. He doesn’t even care abt his release, just pls sit on his face and let him do all the work.

He also loves creampies, he loves watching his cum dripping out from your ruined pussy. He would pull u by your hips, arching your back just to push his cum back inside with his fingers. Feeling your gooey walls squeeze his fingers making him hard again.

And on other days, After he comes inside you, he refuses to pull out. He’ll stay locked in place for ages, soft but still there, dozing lightly. “I like feeling you keep me,” he slurs, half-asleep.

Cockwoming.

Jungkook wants to be inside your skin if it was physically possible, he wanna feel every inch of your body on him.

His favorite position is always missionary. Cuz that’s the closest he feels to your soul and body, seeing your eyes dizzy and unfocused, your mouth hung open desperately reaching out for his mouth is jungkook’s favorite thing in the entire world.

And you barely get to breath during missionary, cuz jungkook can’t stop kissing your soft lips. His teeth biting your lips, sucking on your tongue. He kisses you so deeply, sharing breath and spit, that you forget to pull away for air. You only remember when he finally breaks for a gasp, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathless and shared.

Also he loves to explore anything that got to do with your pussy. One time he made you drink a whole bottle of pineapple juice just to see if the taste would actually change.

he’ll push you against the counter, hook your leg over his arm, and lick between your folds with a soft hum. “Just wanted to see if the juice changed your taste,” he’ll say after he made you cum twice, then kiss you so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

He loves giving you hickeys where no one can see—the inside of your thigh, under your breast, the small of your back. A map only he can read. He traces them with his tongue later, proud of his work.

You wake up in the middle of the night to him fingering you gently, his face buried in your hair, breathing evenly as if he’s asleep. He’s not trying to wake you or make you come. He’s just touching you because he can.

If you wear a skirt, his hand is always on the bare skin of your thigh under the table. He draws patterns with his fingertips, high up, near the edge of your underwear. A silent, public claim.

Jungkook’s worst nightmare is being away for a tour or a really busy schedule. His texts never stop even though hes very busy and barely can hold a conversation, but he will ask for a pic every time just so he could touch himself to your pretty cute face.

After a fight, his clinginess turns desperate. He’ll fuck you with a heartbreaking tenderness, kissing every inch of your skin, whispering “I’m sorry” against your lips, your collarbones, between your legs. He needs to be inside you to feel forgiven. ♡ྀི

A/N: i hope this was to ur expectations!! I tried making it less freaky but what can i say… iam freaky.

Tags: @daddyyy88 @stillillies @hopeonysus

[yeskookii]

headcanon about clingy bf jungkook ⋆.𐙚 ̊.

Nsfw ver.

Tags: it might be suggestive but mostly it’s just fluff!!

first of all, this man can’t keep his hands to himself. His hands are on you alll the time. First thing you feel in the morning is his hands kneading your ass inside your short. Even when he’s asleep, as if making sure you’re still there.

When you casually talking to a friend on the phone, he’s already behind you massaging your breasts. It’s not even in a sexual way, hes just standing there waiting for you to finish the call and give him full attention so he continue talking to you abt everything and anything.

He even developed a new habit of casually sleeping with his hand inside your panties. Just resting his hand there cuz it’s ‘warm’ and feels soft.

Sometimes when you don’t shave your bush, jungkook would play with the hairs there. His reasoning is that it feels nice and comforting.

Another thing abt clingy jungkook is his mouth WILL be on you. All the time.

That man bites you anywhere, it’s like an oral fixation. it’s just natural for him to bite you on your arm as you talk to him.

Hes all ears humming and softly nodding his head, and would slowly make his way up you forearm, leave little nibbles on your skin.

You don’t even react to it anymore bcuz you’re so used to his oral fixations.

Also sucking on your skin. Sometimes, jungkook doesn’t even realize he left a hickey on your waist; just cuz he was so focused on the show playing on the tv and your soft skin was just beside his lips. also your hand playing with his hair as he rest on your lap is very comforting and dizzying.

There’s also a habit of him sleeping with his mouth on your nipples. Suckling your skin until his breath evens out and fast asleep.

You just smell so good and taste so sweet to him.

He wraps his arms around your waist from behind while you’re doing something and just stays there, nose tucked against your neck or hair.

Every time you try to move away, he follows unconsciously.

You go to get water. Jungkook appears in the kitchen thirty seconds later. Neither of you acknowledges it.

And the fact that jungkook got a sensitive nose, you’re very considerate when it comes to choosing your shampoo scent, bcuz jungkook can’t stop sniffing your hair.

You love when he mindlessly nuzzle his nose on your hair and take little whiffs as if he’s looking for smth there.

Jungkook likes to pretend hes just fixing your hair, but he keeps finding excuses to bury his face in it again.

“What shampoo is this?” “No seriously, why does it smell so good?”

He steals your hoodie because it smells like you, then gets caught sleeping with it

Jungkook prefers to be on top of you when watching a movie, bcuz like that you can’t move away from him. Even if you tell him to move so you go to the bathroom, he will find an excuse and try to follow you there.

If you’re sitting on a desk, he will softly rest his chin on your shoulder. Occasionally kissing your cheek and nibbling on your neck

He randomly asks, “ do i smell like you yet?” . After spending the whole day attached to your side like a lost puppy.

When you tease him about being clingy, he immediately denies it while literally holding your hand, hugging your waist, and leaning against you.

“I’m not clingy.”

“Jungkook, you’re sitting in my lap.”

“…and?”

In the car, his hand is never on the center console. It’s always on your thigh, high up, his fingers drummin a rhythm or just sitting heavy and warm. If you try to move his hand lower, he makes a fuss and puts it right back, higher.

He likes to “share” your food by taking bites directly from your fork or spoon, his lips closing over the utensil you just had in your mouth. His eyes lock on yours when he does it.

Sometimes when you’re bent over picking somethin up, you’ll feel a sharp, playful smack on your ass, followed immediately by both of his hands smoothing over the spot to “apologize,” lingerin way too long.

He’s developed a habit of gently suckin on your fingers after you’ve eaten somethin sweet, cleanin off the residue, his tongue swirlin around the tips with a focused, dark look in his eyes.

“You’re so soft,” is his constant whisper, said into your body everywhere- your hair, your stomach, your chest. He says it like it’s the greatest discovery in the world. ♡ྀི

A/N: im so soft and affectionate for jungkook like that’s my baby i would do anything for him.

Lemme know if you guys want nsfw ver!!

Dividers by @cursed-carmine

[celinesilk]

𝓫𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 - 𝓳𝓳𝓴 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 C.1

chapter 1; ‘i don’t want to know you..’

🖤 # there’s a new face on campus, a new person to learn about from afar. you’re almost sick when he wants nothing more than to get to know you, because, you don’t want to get to know him.

[ pairing - rich!jungkook x photographer!reader ]

~ warnings/tags - reader is a bitch to jimin, aggresive moments (LOL idk how to word it), profanity, put your seatbelts on, jungkook scares the reader but at the same time she asserts her dominance, more to come in chapter 2}

w.c - 4.4k

s.masterlist

prologue

c.2

there’s a soft yellow hue shining over the puffy clouds just outside. you sigh tiredly as you eye the rain drops rolling down your dorm room window, schoolbag strapped to your back.

today was another day of exhaustion, you could feel it in your bones. something in you could practically sense the levels of stress that were to come with the fear you felt on the daily of running into jungkook.

you hadn’t seen him since that night.

not in classes, on campus, with other students. it was like he had completely vanished after that night. that’s what worried you.

it was like any day now he’d jump out of the shadows to scare you once again, speak in the condescending tone he carried like an accessory. practically threaten you with his eyes in order to get what he wants.

of course, if he ever came by to present his needs to you again, you’d accept. simply because of the benefits you’d receive. those benefits being he wouldn’t be hiding from you with the intent of reappearing and heightening your stress levels.

brushing off the thought of him, you make move to leave your dorm room. today was not only a day you anticipated to come with exhaustion, but a day you knew would come with your nagging english teacher who expected each student to speak like they lived in the shakespearean times.

unfortunately for you, you were one of many victims. sometimes, you thought maybe you received his nagging much more than others.

the constant holding you back after class to asses your work that didn’t need assessing, the unstoppable anger he’d spew your way about your homework which he was actively correcting when you’d pass on campus. it was tiring.

everything seemed to be tiring for you lately. it was like a never ending cycle of complaining, tiring out, sleeping your life away, actively passing away in classes that bored your brain to extents you didn’t seem possible. you hated life.

not in the sense that you wanted to leave it behind, you grew to dislike the concept of everyday being the same. every single one.

school, home, playing back moments deemed interesting in you head, spiralling, dinner, bed.

you felt like you lived life as a hamster running in a cage, a hamster who spent its day running in the small wheel provided by its owner. just spending your days running in unending loops that ran into connected lines. it didn’t matter what you did, you couldn’t escape it.

or so you thought.

arriving at the elevator, you’re internally surprised to spot a new face. a new student? or was he visiting? you wonder all the possibilities of the man before you, possibilities answered when he notices your undivided attention from just six feet away.

“i’m here studying dance.” he speaks up and you hum, glancing away from his as quick as you had noticed him. “i’m new.” he adds on and you clasp your hands together in awkwardness, nodding your head as you patiently wait for the elevator arrive.

“what about you?” he asks, stepping closer to you as the elevator arrives. there was something about the closeness of his body that send panic through you, something about someone other than your own mind speaking to you.

you worried if you continued speaking to this guy once the elevator ride was done you were doomed.

“something go to do with english.” you respond vaguely, rushing in through the opening elevator doors and into the empty grey box, pressing the button for the car park.

“oh, cool,” he murmurs, stepping to the side, eyes suddenly brightening upon the sigh of the car park button pressed. confusion doesn’t take long to leave you as he’s quick to point out the cause.

“i drive too.” he smiles brightly and you are in disbelief at the way he’s acting over something common. you can’t help the small smile that finds its way to your face.

“by the way,” he continues speaking and you feel like grabbing the headphones from your bag to place them over your ears. was he always like this? would he leave you alone once you’d both left the elevator?

“what’s your name?” you glance up to him, eyeing the patience in his face; while also momentarily blessing his poor parents who had to endure his copious questions when he was younger. or had he been quieter in his youth?

it’s only now that you give him your eyes that you being to properly look at him. you find it surprising to yourself that you hadn’t noticed the blonde hair he sports. you’re almost jealous from how perfect he seems to suit it.

with blonde hair comes his undeniably attractive features, high cheekbones, plump lips which have you wondering if he’s had them filled in or if they are truly natural. the soft pink colour of them remind you of candy floss.

the longer you look, the more you come to realise he truly born to dance. the way he stood, the build of his body, structure of his face. and his eyes, you couldn’t deny the alluring sight of his eyes. they were sharp and soft all at once, pulled you in and left you wondering just how they truly were.

it’s not until the ding of the elevator sounds that you realise you had been staring the entire time, his body stands rigged and his expression leaks awkwardness as you quickly shake your head and slip out past him to head to your car.

you’d hoped he’d walk away and deem you weird, but unfortunately for you, you’d been born with non existent luck. so, when he called out for you, you simply turned around and sought out his question.

“i never got your name.” he speaks, standing further away with his car keys in his hand, “who said i wanted to give it to you.” you answer calmly and he furrows his brows. he almost looked upset?

“i was just trying to get to know you.” he mumbles as he turns to walk away, “it’s y/n.” you sigh out and he spins around, small smile on his lips. “min y/n.”

the man before you seems pleased, bowing softly before talking once again. “nice to meet you, min y/n.” there’s a beat of silence between you both, your cheeks rush red and you nod, “park jimin.”

confusion is etched on your face and he blows out a breath with a small laugh, “my name, park jimin.” he corrects himself and you hum in acknowledgement, “nice to meet you, park jimin.”

as he opens his lips to speak, you turn away and head for your car. mentally stabbing out your heart in disappointment in yourself.

your momentary empathy had gotten the best of you, leading to an unneeded interaction with a new student. you could only worry about what came with such a slip up.

the first class of the day came like a slap to the face, poetry. mr. hwang was in one of his usual grouchy moods, except, this time it was worse.

you couldn’t count with the fingers on your hands how many students he’d sent out of his classroom for doing simple things like coughing. everyone was on thin ice.

so, when he’d turned to you in hopes to hear you say something intellectual, you’d spluttered and completely messed up; worsening his mood.

it wasn’t a surprise when he kicked you out for opening your water bottle too loudly. you left without a fight and a heavy sigh.

since then, you’d dodged all your classes for the day, much too bothered by his attitude to attend the rest. you had wanted to head for the library but the remembrance of jungkook left you shaken and heading for the campus canteen instead.

there you sat, an apple skinned and cut up, plated up as you held your head in your hands – notes from your creative writing class sprawled out in perfect order.

you’d wished it was the notes that had you feeling so nervous, the upcoming test. but, of course, it was jungkook.

i mean, you didn’t even know him like that? you hadn’t ever seen yourself interacting with such a man, you’d done everything to hide yourself in crowds of people at school, chose the seats furthest from everyone else in classes, hid in you car to eat lunch - yet, you still caught his attention.

“ugh!” you groan, slamming your palms down on the table, attracting the attention of a small group just by your right.

bowing your head apologetically, you turn from the small group and glance up due to the unknown presence that seems to newly linger in front of you.

park jimin.

“what the..” you trail off as you eye the awkward smile on his face, holding out a carton of chocolate milk, “hey.” he says nervously, placing down the chocolate milk, slowly sliding it your way.

“mind if i sit here?” he wonders, a hopeful look on your face that turns down the rejection held on your tongue, “sure, i don’t mind.”

a cheerful smile overtakes jimin’s lips as he quickly sets his bag dow on the floor and sits into the seat in front of you, “i brought this as a friendship gift, in a way? anyway, i saw you had chocolate milk already so i bought this in case you finished the one you already have” he chuckles softly to himself at the end of his ramble and you send a tight smile before thanking him and accepting the chocolate milk.

“so, why’d you avoid school today?” jimin pipes up through the silence created between you both. once he spots your raised brow he’s quick to splutter awkwardly, “i mean- not that i was stalking you or anything, seriously. i wasn’t. the teachers i have simple took the roll for today and i noted your name was on there but you weren’t present.” god, could this kid talk.

“i was feeling sick.” you lie, deciding to play off your absence smoothly rather than ramble on like the bud in front of you.

“hey, i never asked. what is your age?” he asks before laughing at himself in embarrassment, “im sorry, i meant, how old are you?” there was something oddly comforting with the awkwardness jimin seemed to ooze from each simple thing he spoke, although he did tend to annoy you at the same time.

“i’m 20.” you respond quietly, a response that has jimin’s brows shooting up at, “twenty? you’re like a whole child. here i was thinking my 24 was young, holy shitt. so you’re not young you’re just a baby.” he says, following his words along with a chesty laugh before slapping his hand on the table then quickly pulling his hand back, looking to it and wondering if the action he’d just done was even appropriate to do in public.

“you’re insufferable.” you’re honest when you speak and jimin looks to you with obvious offence taken, crossing his arms he purses his lips to keep from snapping back at you. you take joy in that.

whilst you internally argue with yourself, mentally ripping apart the sheets in front of you – jimin watches, patiently waiting for an appropriate time to start a conversation with you.

jimin had just moved into the city, thanks to the hefty sum of money his father received from a hit and run. he thought once you stood next to him by the elevator that he’d make a friend of you. and much to his unsuccessful tactics, you stayed distant around him even though he tried his best to speak with you.

he wondered if something had caused you to be like that. did someone do something to you? or, was something actively doing things to you that made you scared?

pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples, jimin sighs out heavily as he willed his brain to be quiet. the constant thinking he did on a daily basis did not fail to hurt his brain and drive him insane.

there were days that he felt insane with the things he thought, sometimes, he felt as though the words in his head were not his. that they were things someone else put in his head to see what he’d think of them.

he hated it.

“you good?” a feminine voice chirps up and he snaps his eyes up to see your attention is focused solely on him, “uh, yeah. i’m fine.” he sends you half a grin and you slowly nod before looking back down to your sheets, the stress inside your body doubling.

you almost felt sick just knowing everything in front of you had to be learned, whether you liked it or not.

unfortunately, you came from an orphan background. some days you wished you had the parents that passed tragically, because maybe then maybe you’d know they were actually good people and not addicts who fucked you up for life.

with your non existent parents and mental issues, you had no choice but to work hard, you hadn’t exactly paid your way to where you stand now. it was from hard work, and if you were going to work hard to get to a certain part in your life, you were going to work harder to stick at it.

“you’re really gripping those sheets hard.” jimin notices and you glare at him, softening your gaze quickly when you notice the way his eyes widen.

shifting uncomfortably, jimin tries his best to shut his mouth whilst you stare at him, he wants to ask what your problem is. but he can’t, he knows if he even so much as parts his lips, he’ll say something wrong and you’ll more than likely get mad.

he’s quick to regret thinking such, he doesn’t even know you a day and he’s already depicting how your reaction to his words will go. he felt mean. was he mean?

“i’m gonna go.” you blurt out, quickly standing and grabbing your scattered sheets into your folder while jimin watches with scrunched brows and a throat full of unsaid words.

he felt bad for you.

he wanted to be friends with you.

so, he spoke what he’d been wanting to ask you all day. “can i have your number?” fuck. jimin slaps his hand to his forehead and you step back, bag already slung over your shoulder, folder tucked under your other arm.

“sorry?” you question and he slowly stands as you cock a brow and wonder what his intentions are, “so we can be friends.” jimin sighs, “i don’t want your number to be weird, i just want to be friends.”

his confession hits you right in the heart, he wanted to be friends. are you fucking kidding me.

“sure.” the word is out before you even let yourself think, maybe now it was your turn to smack yourself, “it’s **********.”

jimin rushes to pull out his phone and type it in, handing it your way to double check the digits are correct, once done, you pull away from him and usher a quick goodbye.

“text you later!” he says cheerfully and you want nothing more than to sink into the cement floors and disappear. what the fuck were you thinking?

you head towards the canteen exit, head down and belongings held close as you escape int the cold air of the college campus.

it is still bright out considering it’s only just hit six o clock. even though the sun still shines you begin to wonder where all the time has gone.

“i need to get home.” you speak under your breath with frustration, heading for the car park. you wanted nothing more than to sink into the comfort of your bed and sleep today’s memories away.

“what the fuck?” you breathe out, folder resting on the roof of your car as you throw your bag to the ground, hands reaching for the zip to open your bag to start rummaging around for your car keys.

you come out unsuccessful, bag filled with nothing but your pencil case and books. “are you fucking kidding me.” you groan, heels of your palms digging into your eyes with frustration.

you’re in a squat by your car, head in your hands as frustrations overtakes you as a whole.

you didn’t want to search the entirety of the campus for your keys, it would take years. but, so would walking the whole way home.

in your head, you fight with yourself. something you come to realise you have been actively doing all day. it seems like the interaction with jungkook from last night has just put you to an edge that you don’t stand at and fear, but an edge that is slowly crumbling while you hang from it.

you now sit against your car, the entirety of your body working off weak energy. you hadn’t eaten yet today. you immediately regret it now that feel light headed and entirely too tired.

maybe stressing on an empty stomach had been the cause of your unneeded self hatred entering your head left and right.

you grab at your bag once again, checking for any fruit or food that you might have packed. once again, you come back unlucky.

dropping your head back against your car, you let out a groan of annoyance. it seems to you that the second jimin stumbled into your life with his clumsy personality, everything has been going so much worse.

but, you couldn't blame jimin for jungkook who had you on edge. at the end of the day, it was your fault for slipping up and not being secretive about your life enough.

a silence etches over you as you sit next to your car, debating whether you should get up and walk home or sleep by your car for the night.

you're all for the debate settling within your head until a monotonous voice speaks up, a voice you'd dreaded hearing all day. possibly even all your life.

"this is sad." he speaks, causing you to glance up with a frown and notice his all too cocky smirk that he seems to sport way too much around you.

he's leaned back against the car parked next to yours, a singular hand slipped into the pocket of his slacks whilst the other places a cigarette to his lips which he inhales from.

you're in a sour mood just seeing him.

"i haven't made up my mind, jungkook." you seethe, standing up quickly, grabbing your bag with you. "don't worry, baby. that's not what i'm here for." he reassures and you can't help the way your stomach twists with delight hearing that pet name.

except, you're quick to scowl in disappointment when you realise exactly who is giving you these butterflies.

"then what? i have to get home, make it quick." you shoulder on your bag as you patiently wait for him to speak, crossing your arms in the process.

"let me drive you home." he offers, straightening up from the car, tossing the cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. "not a chance." you breathe out a dry laugh. now it's jungkook's turn to scowl.

"don't fight me on this, y/n." he sighs, unimpressed as he stretches out a hand to grab onto the strap of your schoolbag - an action you can only watch with bug eyes as he pulls it entirely off your back and holds it in his hand. "my car is this way." he begins to step away, only to stop completely when he notices from his peripheral that you're not moving.

with your arms crossed, you send jungkook a glare as he slowly turns to face you. still, unimpressed.

"if that's how you're gonna be, then be it." he shrugs with a sigh, heading towards a blacked out sports car humming quietly in the parking lot. you face away from jungkook, peering into the windows of your car, hoping you'll spot your keys.

minutes pass as you search, only, when you continue your search, you feel a strong pair of hands grab onto you from behind. you open your mouth to yell out for help, only your silenced by a hand that clasps around your mouth.

jungkook chuckles lowly as he throws you over his shoulder, making way for his car and removing his hand from your mouth as you hang from his shoulder defeated.

you don't have the energy to feel scared for the moment playing out, hell, you don't even have the energy to prevent yourself from being kidnapped.

jungkook steps around the open passenger side door, he gently places you into the chair before locking the door and rounding the hood to the driver's side of the car.

you almost thank him for his gentleness once he settles into the driver's side, but you're quick to remember the hostility he's presented your way over a simple thing as requesting you as his photographer.

i mean, he had you locked into the school library for gods sake. you were only lucky to find an open window to get out.

with the energy you don't have to battle him, you sink back into the leather of his car seats and inhale the manly scent of what you take to be his cologne.

"where do you live?" jungkook wonders, stretched over to tap away on some high tech screen in his car. his single question riles you up and you sit up straight to give him a piece of your mind.

"how else am i supposed to drop you home, y/n." jungkook deadpans and you quickly shut your mouth before getting the chance to speak. "right." you're quick to send him an embarrassed smile before telling him the address swiftly, moving to glance out the window once he types it in and begins to drive.

"i want to talk to you." jungkook speaks up through the silence between you both, one hand which had been on the wheel finds its way to your thigh and you snap your head towards him, catching sight of his side profile as he focuses on the road.

"about what?" you echo a question back, hand trailing down to his own to move it away, only you pause - your hand placed over his - at the sound of his question.

"what got you into photography?"

you'd never really been asked that by anyone before, you begin to think as you narrow your eyes at him with suspicion. "confidential." you mutter, swiping his hand away from your thigh. "i'm sure it is." he rolls his eyes playfully, looking to you with a smile...? or was it another smirk?

truthfully, you'd gotten into photography after you'd seen a man in the park taking photos of the ducks. there wasn't really a deep background to it all. and based on the way jungkook had looked at you when he had asked, you knew he assumed some deep shit happened that made you who you are today. maybe there was, it's not like you remembered anyway.

you don't have anymore time to think because he cuts a corner swiftly, causing you to fly over the center console, head landing into his lap. "i've never had a girl offer to give me head while i'm driving before" jungkook mumbles and you shriek in outrage as you pull away from him fast.

"what the fuck!" you yell out and jungkook simply laughs away to himself before calming down, suggesting you do the same as he pulls up the familiar street to your apartment complex.

"you're disgusting." you snap, reaching around the grab hold of your schoolbag, jungkook's hand flying to the front of your top and staying there while you do so.

you're quick to fling your bag from the bag seats, hitting his head in the process. "don't fucking touch me." you warn and he glares at you, smoothing back the gelled hair which had been pulled out of it's posh slick back due to the force of the schoolbag.

"it was riding up." he states and you let a small 'oh', twisting right back into your seat right as he pulls up out front of the reception area. "you know, i wish you lived further away so i could have talked to you more." jungkook says more to himself than you.

he unbuckles his seat belt, climbing out his side and travelling to yours, oepning the door to let you out. "next time, put on your seat belt." jungkook says lowly as he spots the small graze on the side of your hand from the aggressive swing around the corner he had pulled.

"there won't be a next time." you inform him as you slap away his hand and get out of his car yourself, "consider this our last interaction. i won't be taking photos for you." you finish and his jaw tightens, a hard look on his face.

giving him your back, you walk away, only yo be pulled back and shoved against his car. not hard enough to hurt, hard enough to jostle you.

"what do you want now." you whine, jungkook steps in front of you, face much too close to your own. "this isn't the last time." he speaks harshly, quietly. "you don't get to decide when i stop seeing you, i get to decide when this ends." he delivers it straight to your heart, shocking fear through your veins.

"i'll see you first thing tomorrow." jungkook let's you go upon seeing someone behind you both, not wanting to finish the conversation. you look behind, spotting jimin?

you step out of jungkook's hold, watching as he closes the passenger door, heading to the driver's side where jimin simply nods at him. a nod he ignores. prick.

before heading into his car, jungkook looks to you. "i'll see you tomorrow, baby." with that, he climbs into his seat, starting the car and heading off with a roaring engine. leaving you to look at jimin who sends you a confused look.

you don't wait around to hear what jimin has to say, you turn on your heels and boot it towards the reception to get to the elevator as quick as you can.

you can't help but think of jungkook's words as you approach the elevator. "you don't get to decide when i stop seeing you, i get to decide when this ends." is this where you realise you're eternally doomed?

hope you enjoyed this :) comment to be agged to the taglist!

taglist - @jarofer @ttipa @tokkiggukie @mimi1097 @rkive994 @onyxmango

[celinesilk]

01. nerd boy - pjm x reader

🥥 synopsis- park jimin is your nerdly little roomate who spends his days studying behind closed doors. you don't talk with him - bar the times you appraoch him to collect the monthly bill for the landlord. he's not interesting, he's quiet and bookish. or so you thought. one day, you're on your way to collect the monthly bill, a small part of your routine you'd always indulged in when you'd dealt with past roomates. except, when you open jimin's door requesting the monthly pay up you're left running out repeating apologies like a mantra.

[pairing - nerdy!jimin x f!reader]

warnings - profanity, explicit sexual content.

w.c - 3.7k

today hadn't been much excitement for you. you'd simply rolled out of bed and into the hands of the boring world to head to a small cafe just a five minute walk from your dorm room to meet your best friend for some breakfast.

afterwards, the day only but slowly slipped from your fingers, leaving you to feel an immense amount of boredom you wished you could rip from your soul.

much to your luck though, your new roommate isn't like the old one. he is quiet, sticks to himself, and you only see the poor guy when you collect the monthly charge from him for the landlord. something you always seemed to voluntarily do since day one of moving in.

oh right, today was one of those days.

you lazily rise from your spot on the living room couch, oddly noting how silent the dorm was today. the upstairs neighbors had both headed home for the summer, the ones next to you had done the same.

unfortunately for both you and jimin, your families lived across the world in different countries. limiting your chances of visiting them.

your bare feet patter along the hard wood floors as you head to your bedroom to collect the amount needed for the landlord. considering it was a shared dorm room, jimin and you were charged $500 each. not the worst, but, not the cheapest either.

entering your bedroom, you head straight for your closet, ripping open the door and grabbing at the box that sits on the small shelf.

you count all the notes and coins, smiling to yourself that it’s all in there.

with the cash in your hand, you head for your bedroom door, leaving your room to go to jimin's bedroom at the end of the hall.

you are quick to put your hand to the door knob and head inside of his room, only, when you twist the knob and push the door open, you catch sight of jimin doing something you'd never imagine him doing before.

between his thighs, jimin's dick stands tall and erect. his head is thrown back, the glasses on his face falling off as his hand runs up and down the length of his cock.

his pants are pulled down just below his balls, shirt ridden up to his chest, abs you hadn't known he had on full display.

"ugh, fuck." he moans - no, he whines - ring clad hand moving at a fast pace, his hips bucking up once he swipes his thumb over the precum covered tip.

you're frozen to your spot, eyes blown wide, you want to leave, save him the embarrassment, but you can't look away. it's so wrong.

jimin's cock is big. flushed pink against his pale hand, leaking precum from the tip all the way to the base. fuck, jimin had a pretty cock.

the trance the erotic scene he has created has you so distracted that the pennies in your hand fall from your grasp and against the wooden floor, grabbing jimin's attention.

his hand flies away from his dick, he jumps up and catches sight of you quickly bending down to grab each and every coin. "oh my god, i'm so sorry." you push out awkwardly.

"oh my fucking god." you hear jimin curse under his breath, "please, get out." he chokes out and you scrape all the coins on the floor into the hallway, standing to your full height and bowing with apology.

"hand me the allowance when you can." with that, you head out and slam the door behind you, listening closely to the sound of jimin cursing himself out and rummaging agressively around his bedroom.

you almost feel bad. until, the sight of what you had just seen pops back into your mind and you feel all hot and bothered. but, its so wrong. you shake it from your mind quickly and turn to jimin's door to knock.

"i'm heading out for a while, i'll leave my amount on the counter, you can hand it out today!" your voice is much too high-pitched and you fear jimin notices. you can't even think about how he feels.

"y-yeah, okay!" he calls back from the other side, sounding as though he is miles away.

"right-uh, bye!" you call out and jimin sends back a muffled goodbye of his own, then you're turning on your heels, heading for the front door to escape the odd tension leaking out of his room and into the hallways of your shared dorm.

instead of venturing the entire way to the convenience store, you found yourself perched on the living room couch of the dorm room, head in your hands as you actively curse yourself out.

“why did i have to watch him.” you groan, slapping your forehead multiple times. “stupid, stupid, stupid.” you insult yourself, only stopping when the sound of someone clearing their throat catches your attention.

“uh, i’m going to head to the landlord to give her the money.” jimin stood just a few feet away, shoving all the money into the pocket of his coat. “when i get back, i’d like to talk about what you saw.” his cheeks flush pink at that and you slowly nod your head, mouth parted as you watch him send you a lop sided grin before grabbing your money off of the counter and head for the front door.

fuck.

sitting at your vanity, you rub moisturiser into your skin, eyeing the hallway through your open bedroom door in case jimin walks past.

he has been home for twenty minutes now. he walked past you like he hadn’t mentioned talking things out before leaving. maybe he was building the courage to come over and talk to you?

whatever.

you were currently busy - or trying to seem busy - while actively spying on the hallway. god, were you always this weird?

once you finalised putting on your moisturiser you slammed your palms on the surface of your desk, “this guy!” you cried out before finally pushing back from your desk and heading out of your room on a mission.

if he wasn’t going to approach you, you were going to approach him.

your feet stomp harshly against the floors, frustration gnawing at your bones as jimin’s door holds a staring contest with you once you stand outside it.

you edge towards the handle before pulling back, shaking your head and turning around. “i’m being irrational here.” you laugh at yourself before turning back around finally grasping at the cold metal of the handle, clicking your tongue you shake your head. “no, this isn’t it.” turning around again you head away from his door only stopping to slowly trail your eyes up from the sock clad feet that suddenly come into your sight.

your eyes travel up to his face and there he stands, a bowl of food in his hands with a confused look. “what…are you doing?” he asks, clearly interested in whatever battle you’re having with his bedroom door.

“i was just, uhm. i was coming to talk to you.” you get out plainly and you notice the way he gulps before nodding. “can we talk in the living room?” he asks, eyeing his door as though there’s something behind it that he doesn’t want you seeing.

“yeah, sure. whatever suits you. i mean it was my fault after all, haha.” you scratch the back of your neck, nervously laughing, stopping all at once when you see the cringed look on his face.

“let’s just get this over and done with.” jimin breathes out, turning away and heading for the living room, you trail not too far behind.

your nails dig into the palms of your hands as you anticipate what he’s going to say, you watch as he moves to settle on the armchair first, placing his bowl of food onto the glass coffee table.

“i could wait until you’re finished eating.” you offer, feeling horrible. “no, it’s okay. i seriously just want to get this over and done with.” he swallows, looking much too scared to even look you in the eye.

humming at that, you move to the couch and sit on it, crossing your legs and resting your cheeks in your palms as you sit forward and look to him.

he’s not wearing his glasses right now, you note how beautiful he looks. although, still thinking about gorgeous he looked fucking himself with them on…NOT RIGHT NOW Y/N!

“so..” jimin trails off, swiping a hand through his eyes rustic blonde hair. “it’s normal. i do it all the time.” you blurt out and his eyes widen, “oh my fucking god.” you clasp a hand over your mouth and spot the way jimin sports a soft smile before swiping a hand down his face as though he’s trying not to laugh.

"i'm sorry, please do continue." you cast a hand his way and he nods, thanking you briefly before speaking. "it's, uhm. i haven't done something like that before." he confesses quietly and your eyes widen the slightest bit.

"i'm really sorry." he apologises, you almost cry, noticing the pout on his lips. "i just, oh my, this is really embarrassing." he looks up to you, scratching the back of his head with a nervous laugh. "i was scrolling on my phone when i got a sort of suggestive video," he trails off squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out a heavy breath before continuing.

something in you screams at you to tell him stop, but you lead with your heart which is far too invested.

"the comments in the video had some links attached and i clicked them out of curiosity, but they brought me to those sex websites..." he cringes at himself and you muffle the laugh that escapes you.

he looks at you the second you stop and clear your throat, "anyway." he eyes you skeptically, "i- wait, i don't think i should be telling you this." he furrows his brows but you jump to stop him, "carry on, i'm interested."

jimin sends you an incredulous look but continues anyway. "the video i clicked on had me feeling a certain way, and so, i took i out on my, uhm.." he doesn't finish his sentence, so you do for him. "your cock."

blushed cheeks enter your view and he splutters a bit before continuing, "i just wanted to let you know i won't do anything like that ever again." he mumbles and you shake your head.

"jimin, i don't care if you jerk off." you roll your eyes playfully and he gasps at the crude way you speak, "just like, i don't know. i'll start knocking." you suggest and he nods.

"okay." he goes to grab his bowl of food but you stop him with your words, "what kind of video was it?" his face scrunches into one of cringe and he pulls his bowl to his chest quickly. "i'm done with this conversation." he announces as he walks away, leaving you to fall back against the couch and cry out his name. "i'm not telling you!" he yells from down the hall and you huff out a breath before finally getting up from the couch to head to your own room.

unfortunately, on your way to your room you think about jimin again and decide to head for his room. knocking gently you call out, “i know we just spoke, but, can we do something together? i’m really bored.”

you’re met with silence so you knock again, ear against the door. you hear the sound of jimin groaning and the sound of his bed rustling.

seconds later, he’s standing at his door, stepping aside to let you in. “what exactly do you want to do?” he wonders as you skip into his room and head for his bed.

your steps faltering when you remember what he’d been doing in that bed just an hour ago, you head for his desk chair instead. hoping he doesn't notice.

“i’ve never actually gotten to see your room.” you state, ignoring his earlier question. “it’s nice.” you compliment as you look around to all the posters of bands, him with a group of people, your eyes land on the copious amounts of trophies stacked on the shelves above his bed.

“what are those for?” you wonder, jumping to your feet again and heading to look at them up close. "they're trophies from when i used to dance." jimin answers, looking to you shyly when he spots the wide grin on your face.

"you used to dance?" you gasp and he simply nods which had you rushing to ask him for videos, "i don't have many, my mom does though." he responds smoothly, leaving you to frown before pushing away from the subject of him being a dancer.

"do you like movies?" you ponder and jimin hums, moving to sit on his bed as you move towards his opened bedroom door, "do you want to watch one with me?" you ask, catching both his attention and shock.

"you want to hang out with me?" jimin wonders, showcasing the surprise that courses through him. "yeah, why not?" you scoff and he simply shrugs before easily agreeing and following you out of his room.

"are you into romantic comdies or sexual romance?" you ask, wriggling your eyebrows at jimin. "why? you want to see if i get a boner from a sex scene?" he deadpans as you both head for the couch, the remote in your hand.

you pause on your way to sit, looking over at jimin who wears a bored look that quickly cracks into a smile when he sees the surprise on your face. "i may be embarrassed, but i'm not against joking about it." he assures you to which you let out a slow, "uh-huh." not convinced whatsoever.

"so?" you push, wondering about your earlier question. "romance." he responds and you sigh heavily as you fall back onto the couch, jimin following suit, except, he sits quite far from you.

"romance it is."

soon, the movie ends. you're half asleep on the couch while jimin has long passed out. you didn't think someone like him could sleep considering his days were jam packed with studying.

instead of waking him along with yourself, you slowly slide away from your space on the couch - glancing to his sleeping face. pouted lips and closed eyes. he was pretty.

you're quick to snap away from your thoughts when you catch yourself slowly thinking about the events of today. oh no.

you felt weirded out thinking about him doing that while quite literally staring at his sleeping form. so, you quickly fled the scene and headed for your bedroom.

thinking about jimin fucking his fist didn't help the fact you'd both watched the the new movie that came out, fifty shades of grey.

you'd heard from a friend that it was a romance movie, and considering it was new, you'd clicked onto it. but much to you and jimin's luck, it had been a movie packed with all kinds of things you wouldn't exactly find appropriate to watch with a roommate you just started acknowledging.

closing your bedroom door, you let out a quiet sigh as you head ed over to your bed, clad in your clothes from the day. you were much too tired to even think about switching to your pj's, so you simply collapsed onto your bed and let the sleep take you away into the next day.

letting out a soft laugh, you swipe at what tickles you on the nose. "stop." you let out playfully, reaching to grab the hand of your ex!?

you jump up, jumping out of your nightmare while you're at it, head shooting to the side to catch glance of jimin who steps back and looks away with a guilty head.

"what are you doing in here, jimin?" you press, feeling suspicious of his motives. "well, i fell asleep. dreaming of the movie." he starts, you feel like you already know where this was going.

"and what does that have to do with me?" you wonder, watching the way his ears turn bright pink under the light of your bedside lamp. "i can't do it to myself alone. it's not working." jimin confesses, dropping his head.

your jaw drops.

"what are you asking from me?" you begin to slowly sit straighter, looking him head on so he doesn't feel any bit more scared to ask for your help. "can you help me? i mean, do what you had offered to do for me during the movie?" he steps closer.

you quickly remember jokingly telling him you'd give him a blow job if the movie turned him on. slapping yourself mentally, you grab ahold of his wrist, pulling him right down onto you.

"what the heck?" he lets out a breathy laugh while you lie beneath him with a smile as he hovers over you, his body flush against your own. allowing you to feel the heat of how he really feels right now against your inner thigh.

"i'm helping." you purr with a smile, rolling the both of you over until your straddling his hips. this time, jimin's breathing is heavier.

moving off of his lap, you ask jimin to sit against the headboard. "we could have done this another way i just don't want to leave my bed." you confess and he simply laughs.

once he's settled against the headboard, he starts to look nervous. anticipating what is about to happen to happen next.

his breath hitches when you move from sitting back, hands grabbing for the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers so you can pull them down all at once.

his dick is quick to spring out from the confines of his garments, resting against his abdomen. flushed pink and leaking precum.

jimin lets out a quiet whimper and you briefly wonder if it's from embarrassment or was the sight of you moving to help him turning him on more?

"you're so big." you relay to him and he sucks his lower lip into his mouth, nibbling on it as he watches your mouth grow closer to his cock.

jimin stretches his head back, neck popping a vein as your hot breath hits the skin of his tip. "please, y/n." he groans, moving his head to look down at you, hands moving to run through your hair and grip the back of your neck to move you closer. lips hitting hit tip.

you're move to envelope his tip into your warm and inviting mouth is quick, causing jimin to buck his hips in surprise. a moan leaving his parted lips.

you don't pull back to speak, or look to him. you simply pull back to stick out your tongue to roll it down the length of his cock, dragging breathy moans from him as he squirms.

you lick around his dick until it is entirely covered in your saliva before once again, enveloping his tip. except, this time you take in more of him.

the hands jimin had ran through your hair grip tightly as he throws his head back against your head board, widening his legs just the smallest bit more to welcome your body closer.

your hands run along the skin of jimin's thighs before allowing them to travel to his balls to scrape your nails lightly along them. "fuck." jimin whines, hips bucking at the small action, causing his dick to move further into your mouth.

without stalling any longer, you begin to bob your head up and down his cock, not stopping for air.

jimin tries his best to hold back from pushing his hips up as he removes a hand from your hair to hide his cries of pleasure. using the other hand to hold your hair back rather than guide your movements.

"this feels so good." jimin lets out, muffled from behind his palm. you hum at that, the vibrations making jimin go crazy as you begin to now suck him harsher.

"y/n, i seriously feel so good." he cries out, two hands now collecting you hair back against the nape of your neck. "i've never felt anything so good." he breathes out, completely relaxing against the head board.

your mouth sucks more of him into your mouth, you try your best to accommodate all of him at once. your saliva dripping from your mouth and onto the balls you've now began to fondle.

you bob your head up and down at a punishing pace as you try your best to ease the orgasm out of him.

your lips suck and your tongue licks until you're pushing him so far in you choke on his cock, causing your throat to contract and squeeze whatever part of him reached that deep.

"oh my fucking god." jimin curses at the feeling of that, letting out more breathy moans as you continue to suck him off.

he doesn't make move to control, simply submits to the pleasure you offer while watching with heavily lidded eyes.

"i think i'm close." he whispers as his hips begin to buck up into your mouth, something you welcome as you suck harsher. "fuck, i'm close." jimin confirms as you pull up to suck on his tip, tasting the saltiness of his precum.

you head back to suck his cock, this time only taking what you can before moving to places your hand at the base to run it up and down where you can't reach without choking.

jimin groans and moans, hands gripping harsher, hips moving at a quicker pace. "fuckkk, just like that. i like it like that." you feel yourself growing hotter down south at the sound of him breaking apart like this above you.

"y/n.." it's a broken sob of pleasure as you double on your efforts, sensing he's close. "wait shit, y/n pull away, i'm gonna come." he speaks, only for his words to break away into a broken moan as you squeeze the base of his dick.

jimin watches with widened eyes as you refuse to pull away until you're sucking harsher than before and he's coming down your throat with a loud groan.

with a satisfied grin, you slowly pull away from jimin. wiping the remnants of his cum from the corner of your mouth after swallowing. something that drives jimin borderline insane.

so insane that you don't even process the fact he pulls you closer until he's kissing you!

comment if you want to be tagged <3

[97dollz]

( 𝓢𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ) 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. ˖Ი𐑼⋆ nsfw +++ mdni. in the underworld, love is a fatal weakness. but when an obsession triggers hell's most competitive prince, he goes to hunt down the purest soul before anyone else can claim her. cw: demon!jungkook (seven deadly sins), dark fantasy/romance, obsessive & possessive tendencies, spiritual beliefs, mind games, power imbalance, marking, usage of pet names (angel, doll, pretty, etc), somnophilia (starts as a wet dream/sleep paralysis), dubcon to consensual, praising, fingering, unprotected sex (missionary), mild choking, creampie, aftercare. wc: 10.9k

the abyss that represents hell has not changed at all. still the same cold and bottomless prison meant for none other than demons and creatures stripped of goodwill. it is a place of absolute disorder and drowning blackness, an ocean where you either keep swimming or drowning.

but in stark contrast to the freezing torment of the lower rings, the most powerful and sinister spirits resided divided into walled cities and enormous castles tailored to specific human sins. and today, within those high stone walls, you could find the sins of sloth and wrath engaging in what mortals would call a gossip session.

TAEHYUNG is lazing around, resting on a comfy bed in one of the many rooms in a castle, the infamous deadly sins took as a place to stay. he talked about whoever and whenever, his deep voice echoing in the quiet room, accompanied by the subtle shifting of his heavy limbs against the silk sheets.

"yesterday i visited the prettiest woman with the sweetest flesh," he murmured, tracing a slow circle in the air with his finger. "though she put a small bowl of sea salt under her bed before i could even make an appearance. cute, but useless." 

JEONGGUK just listened. he was sitting on a carved obsidian chair across from his brother, his head thrown back against the headrest, his eyes closed, and his long legs stretched out, letting out occasional low hums to signal he hadn't completely tuned out.

"you usually like talking about women and preys,” the sin of sloth noted, an expression of slight confusion and worry appeared on his face. “not intrigued yet?"

"hmm... not really in the mood after HOSEOK told me in great detail what he was doing with this angel yesterday," jeongguk replied,  the boredom settling deep into his bones.

"is that so?" taehyung then peeks up at the sitting form of the sin of wrath that was just resting, and the sloth could feel the feeling of melancholy, the state of just existing and doing nothing. it was untypical behavior for someone like jeongguk — a competitive and fierce demon like him just existing without a target was extraordinary, as it doesn't happen often, more like at all. wrath was a fire that required constant fueling, a relentless drive to dominate, conquer, and win every battle… seeing him like this still felt wrong.

taehyung rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin up on his hands, a lazy smile spreading across his lips as he thought of a way to spark that dead energy. "well, if hoseok's divine tastes bored you... there was this other girl. i saw her just before dawn. quite a pity i was too tired to actually take a physical form, but she was... exquisite."

jeongguk didn't move, keeping his chin tilted toward the dark ceiling. "they all taste the same after a century, tae. skin, bone, a little bit of fear. it’s predictable and boring."

"not this one," taehyung hummed, trying to convince the young prince otherwise, "she looked so incredibly pure and innocent. the kind of innocence that makes you want to ruin it just to see what color her soul turns. her eyes were shining like literal stars under the moonlight, completely unaware of what lurked in the dark. and her scent…” pausing when a low growl caught in his throat as his tongue grazed past his sharp fangs, licking his lips. "she reeks of sweetness. imagine everything we aren't allowed to touch in heaven. it made my blood boil just by standing near her window, made my stomach growl."

his eyes darkened at the memory of that concentrated sweetness, as the heavy silence stretched between them. 

jeongguk’s head didn't move, but one piercing eye slowly slid open, fixing its gaze directly onto the other demon, who was already staring back with a knowing grin. the youngest usually doesn't dwell on what his brothers do or what they want to gossip about that much. he understood the rules, knowing the strict boundaries of the underworld — you don't steal another sin's claimed prey, you don't cross into another's territory without permission. but jeongguk was competitive to his very core, and his specific brand of wrath thrived on the thrill of the hunt, the absolute conquest of taking the best prize before anyone else could even draw their weapon.

and right now taehyung was just lying there, drowning in his own sloth, too lazy to actually get up and claim the girl he was drooling over. that made her fair game. if no one had claimed her with a physical mark, she belonged to the fastest hunter. the older chuckles at the sudden shift in jeongguk's posture, noticing how the younger demon's shoulders had tensed, the faint red glow of wrath beginning to simmer at the edges of his dark irises.

"interested now?" taehyung teased, crossing his arms under his chin. "i can spare you a few more details if you promise not to tell JIMIN... since, well, he actually found her first. but i just went to check what the big deal was."

jeongguk sit up slowly, his joints popping in the quiet room as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. his eyes were fully open now as the competition was already getting crowded. "jimin found her, and he hasn't touched her either?"

"you know how he likes to linger before taking a bite," taehyung yawned, his voice dropping to a hypnotic purr. "but she really is something else. just an ordinary human on the surface. goes to her little classes, works some mundane job to pay for her apartment... nothing fascinating about her daily life, really. but her soul, jeongguk... it's so pure it's almost a sin in itself."

jeongguk listened to every single syllable, his mind instantly converting taehyung's description into a perfect mental map. a girl so pure she made two ancient sins hesitate, most importantly, a girl who belonged to no one yet.

"angels and seraphims are beautiful and divine, sure, we've all tasted them. they know they are divine and carry that arrogance, manufactured to be that way. while there’s something entirely different about her, she doesn't come even close to those winged beings. her purity is raw, and she has no idea how delicious she is."

wrath wasn't just anger: it was the intoxicating need to possess completely and beat everyone else to the finish line to leave his permanent stamp where no one else could touch it. 

"an ordinary human, hm?" jeongguk repeated quietly.

"mhm, a perfect little lamb," taehyung muttered, already closing his eyes again, drifting back into his comfortable numbness. "we can check her out again next week."

jeongguk didn't answer because something in him was growing very impatiently. he just stared at the floor, counting down the hours until the mortal realm plunged into total darkness, and she wouldn't be a free reward anymore. jimin was too slow, and taehyung was too lazy, and that was his chance to dive in.

it didn't take long to find you. a creature like jeongguk didn't need a map since he only needed to follow the intoxicating trail cutting through the air of the human city. and truly, you reeked of innocence, sugar, spice, and everything nice. but as he melted into the dark corners of your small apartment, his nostrils flared. vanilla. underneath the general sweetness taehyung had described, there was a rich undertone of pure vanilla that made the back of his throat ache.

the sin of wrath found you doing the most mundane things in the world, totally unaware that a literal predator was inhaling your scent from all the angles of your home. you were padding around the space, still wound up from a long day of classes and work. jeongguk follows you everywhere like a living shadow draped in the corners of your vision. you rushed into the bathroom to wash your face, and he hovered near the doorframe, deciding to wait outside. he is a demon, a literal harbinger of violence and domination, but he is also a gentleman. 

watching the way the water droplets clung to your eyelashes, the way your soft lips parted as you sighed. the proximity was small, and it made hunger claw at his ribs. he could take you right here, press you against the cold sink and — no, not right now. he closed his eyes, forcing his fangs back, because this is not a good moment or opportunity to strike a prey you know nothing about.

"now where did i put that damn hair clip?" frustration bleeding into your sweet voice as you rummaged through a messy drawer. turning around to check the counter, your back to the sink for a split second. jeongguk tilts his head, hearing your soft tone as his eyes catch the tiny pink clip sitting right on top of the mirrored shelves. his fingers twitch, and suddenly the plastic is right at the center of the sink counter.

you turned back around, freezing. you blinked at the clip, staring at it for a moment too long. "i swear to god i'm losing my mind… i look right at things and don't see them.”

you brush it off by leaving the plastic sit there and making your way to the bedroom. the shadow followed you like a blessing in disguise. you were wearing an oversized t-shirt for pajamas, long enough to reach just above your thighs. the bareness of your legs captivated him, making his dark eyes trace the smooth curve of your calves up to the soft skin, and the moment he looked up and saw your reflection in the mirror as you combed your hair... a demon like him was fundamentally incapable of feeling genuine and selfless love.

instead, what looked like love was actually a consuming obsession. jeongguk had possessed plenty of women over his thousands of years of existence: he had ruined high-born princesses in the 16th century, he had corrupted a fallen angel until her wings turned to ash, but never had he felt such an agonizing twist in his chest. it hit him like a splash of holy water, a searing burn from the inside out. it terrified him, but it also thrilled him. he wanted to consume you until there was nothing left. taehyung wasn't lying, and he could see exactly why jimin had tried to call dibs.

suddenly, you tensed. the comb froze mid-air, as tiny goosebumps broke out across the delicate skin of your body. a pressure so heavy filled the room, giving you the terrifying feeling that someone was standing right behind you, staring down the back of your neck. whipping your head around, your heart is hammering with a frantic rhythm against your ribs as the demon stays perfectly still, blending into the dark, watching your chest rise and fall. staring directly into the dark corner, however, there was nothing. it's late at night, you are tired from work, and the lack of actual sleep is probably playing tricks on your mind... that has to be it. yeah, but no. 

turning back to the mirror and finishing the last bits of combing your hair, "okay, seriously i need to stop pulling all-nighters.”

finally crawling into bed, pulling the duvet up to your chin. you reached over and lunged your arms around a pink bunny plushie, burying your nose into it before slowly drifting off into dreamland.

the floorboards don't even creak under his weight as jeongguk steps out of the shadow and approaches the bed. you look adorable, like a sleeping beauty, using that stuffed cotton to calm down... hmm, cute. his chest tightens with that strange sensation again. he stands there, waiting and waiting, making absolutely sure you are in a deep slumber before he slowly sinks his weight onto the edge of the mattress.

the material dipped slightly, though you were too far gone to notice. his hands are incredibly gentle, contrasting the lethal power coiled in his muscles, as he slowly peels the blanket away from your body and exposes your sleeping form to the cool night air. his eyes were constantly darting to your face, monitoring the slight flutter of your eyelashes to ensure you didn't wake up.

the urge to rip that flimsy shirt open and take you right here and there folded his every sense. his jaw clenched so hard it ached, his sharp fangs digging deeply into his own lower lip until the metallic taste of his own dark blood coated his tongue. he needed self-control, even if his inner beast was screaming at him to taste the vanilla on your skin. but he forces himself to hold back since the task tonight was simple: mark you, claim you, and make his permanent presence known in your life before his brothers could even think about doing something. finders, keepers. or in this case, the first one to paint on the canvas wins. 

he leaned over you, his shadow completely swallowing your small frame, broad shoulders blocking out what little moonlight filtered through the blinds.

the demon let his fingernails grow slightly enough to sharpen. it is a very sensual and intimate moment for someone like him, as his touch was feather-light but burning hot as he pressed the tip of his sharp nail right into the delicate skin between your cleavage. he began to draw, dragging to carve a love rune into your skin.

you let out a soft sigh in your sleep, your body tensing as a silent spell washed over your mind, plunging your consciousness into an intoxicatingly warm dream. you felt a phantom heat spreading through your chest. jeongguk's eyes darkened to a deep crimson as he watched his magic take hold, leaving the red mark that would itch and throb against your skin for days to come.

next, his large hand slides down the smooth expanse of your leg, parting your thighs. the contrast of his cool touch against your burning skin made him bite the inside of his cheek. his fingertips were tracing the exact same sigil. the marks are a declaration of wrath that tells any wandering spirit, any low-level demon, and most importantly, jimin and taehyung, to back the fuck off. this is my prey. the spell settles over your skin, binding your subconscious to his, though not fully yet. 

satisfied, the sin hovers over your sleeping form for a final moment, the sweet scent of your innocence entirely taking over him. pressing a soft kiss right to the center of your forehead, and the deal is partially sealed.

"sleep well, my angel." the blanket is pulled back over your shoulders, tucking you in by the time you stir and turn to hug your bunny plushie closer. the room is entirely empty as he vanishes. the shadows swallowed him whole, leaving you alone and completely branded by wrath, dreaming about a strange man with tattoos and red eyes.

by the time morning rolls around, you feel like you’ve completely misaligned your internal clock. you wake up utterly drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, and you're hypersensitive. it feels like you’ve opened a third eye or something; every little sound is magnified, the air feels heavier, and your whole body itches, specifically right between your boobs and along the soft skin of your inner thighs.

you rub at your chest through your shirt, because maybe the humidity in your apartment just spiked overnight. luckily, it’s sunday. you have all the right in the world to laze around and do absolutely nothing as your heart desires. clinging to your bunny plushie, you mindlessly check your phone, answering a few texts from your friends before turning the screen off again. the exhaustion is still heavy in your bones. you let your eyes flutter shut, drifting in that hazy, half-awake state, just resting.

and that’s when the dream hits you again.

you vividly remember a very attractive but completely unknown man standing over you in the dark. he had beautiful and surprisingly gentle features, but his eyes were what truly captivated you — a lovely, deep shade of dark chocolate brown that felt almost solid as he looked down at you. usually, when random people appear in your fantasies, it's just your brain recycling faces you passed on the street or saw once in a coffee shop. but you know you’d remember seeing a man like that. he was unforgettable, if you could say that this was the man of your dreams.

your stomach lets out a loud growl, breaking the trance. breakfast first before you continue to wonder more about the stranger.

entering the kitchen and pouring yourself a bowl of cereal. as you eat, the phantom itching on your thighs returns, a dull heat that makes you squirm slightly in your chair. deciding you can't handle the after-sweat sleeping session anymore, you abandon the bowl and head to the bathroom to wash up.

you draw a warm bath, letting the steam fill the small room, propping your phone up on the sink, hitting play on your favorite playlist, and sinking into the water, desperately trying to relax. but the peace doesn't last.

five minutes in, the water suddenly feels suffocatingly warm. the air grows thick, and that prickly feeling crawls right up your spine: the undeniable sensation that someone is watching you, cramming into your personal space. looking toward the foggy bathroom mirror, expecting to see something, but there’s nothing. you don't want to be paranoid, you hate feeling crazy, so you reach out and turn the music louder, trying to drown out the thumping of your own mind.

what you don't know is that someone is there, but it isn't the one who claimed you.

materializing smoothly in the shadowed corner of your small living room, right outside the fogged-up bathroom door, is a different presence entirely. the sin of envy had finally decided to cease his window-shopping and actually claim the little human he’d been tracking. tilting his head, a beautiful smile playing on his lips as he steps toward your bedroom to wait for you. but the moment he crosses the threshold, he stops dead in his tracks.

the air in your room doesn't smell like vanilla anymore. it's laced with something, or rather someone else. jimin's eyes narrow as he approaches your unmade bed. he looks down at the sheets, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. the residual aura radiating from the mattress is blinding to a demon he knows all too well.

"uh-oh," a deep voice purrs from the corner of the room, making jimin snap his head around to see taehyung stepping out of the closet shadows, a lazy grin plastered across his face.

"you," jimin hisses, his eyes flash green. the sweet sin of envy is absolutely furious because someone by the name of jeon jeongguk touched something that was not his. "you ran your fucking mouth, didn't you?"

"i didn't tell him to come here," sloth defends carelessly, raising his hands in mock surrender as he leans against the wall. "i just mentioned her. you know how wrath is. the kid hears about a prize that hasn't been claimed, and his instincts take over. first come, first served… not my fault that he is impatient."

"she was mine," jimin snarls softly, his fingers twitching as he looks toward the bathroom door, where the sound of your music is still playing. he can smell the faint heat of jeongguk's love runes burning on your skin from here. he marked you, stamping his name into your flesh, warning the entire underworld away with a simple spell.

"technically, she was no one's," taehyung points out, shifting his weight with a yawn. "no one besides him actually did anything about it. you lingered too long, jiminie."

jimin's chest heaves with bitter jealousy. he hates losing, especially to the youngest. he stares at the bathroom door, listening to the faint sound of you splashing in the tub, completely oblivious to the two high lords of hell arguing in your bedroom. eventually, envy lets out a frustrated sigh, the green glow in his eyes receding since he can't break a wrath-brand without triggering a literal war in the abyss, and jeongguk is far too fierce of a fighter to cross over a human.

"fine," the blonde murmurs, as he looks at the raven-haired sin. "he can have her for now. but you tell him from me... if he finds someone else in the future or gets bored with this little lamb, she goes straight to me. favor for the favor of me not ripping his throat out right now."

taehyung chuckles, his deep voice vibrating in the small space. "i'll pass along the message. now come on, let's leave before wrath smells you on her. he’s already possessive enough."

both demons melt into the shadows and back to hell, leaving your apartment entirely quiet.

inside the bath, you suddenly gasp, the suffocating pressure in your chest instantly lifting. the paranoia vanishes as you blink, looking around the bathroom, not knowing of the demonic drama that just unfolded over your soul. all you know is that the itch between your thighs is getting warmer, and the face of the dark-eyed man from your dreams is becoming impossible to forget.

the next day, on monday, the itching becomes absolutely insufferable. you're practically squirming in your seat during your morning routines, genuinely convinced you must have eaten or drunk something to cause a severe allergic reaction. what you don't know is that you wish it was an allergic reaction instead of a demon's way of claiming you.

what’s worse is that it doesn't go away. if it does, it's only for a fleeting hour before it flares right back up. it’s so incredibly annoying that no matter how many times you take a cold bath or apply layers of soothing gel, it still stays, driving you entirely crazy. the only time it doesn't itch is when you sleep. that’s exactly why you are so cranky right now, since you just woke up from a desperate afternoon nap, and the second your eyes opened, your skin started burning all over again.

and you keep dreaming about that man the moment darkness evokes your vision.

this man is a constant presence in your sleep, acting as a secondary character in whatever bizarre stories your brain comes up with. but every single time he seems to get closer and closer to you, his dark chocolate eyes keep tracking your every move, but from far away.

currently unaware that you are divinely and demonically protected by no other than the sin of wrath. you have become extremely sensitive and more spiritual than ever. your intuition is through the roof, but it also feels like something is constantly feeding off your energy, or rather, pouring something into you that tickles the deepest core of your soul, leaving you breathless and wired.

spiritual stuff keeps happening all over your apartment. you think you lost your keys, only for them to suddenly appear right on the kitchen counter the exact moment you turn around. you think you closed a door, but it’s left open. the strangest part is that the vanity lights adorning your bedroom mirror are acting possessed. they either shine blindingly bright or dim down to a faint, almost ghostly glow. sometimes they blink rapidly, flickering like someone is sending you a morse code you can't decode.

and it’s just the sin messing with you in his demonic and teasing way, completely amused by your frustration.

earlier, you felt such a suffocating pressure in the kitchen that you almost threw a handful of sea salt right at the invisible force you sensed lurking in the corner. was there a poltergeist here? a ghost of someone who died fifty years ago? as far as you know, no one died in this apartment, and the building complex isn't built on an old graveyard... at least, you really hope so.

you can’t see him, but he can see you perfectly. jeongguk doesn't want to be that guy, but you have such a sweet and captivating body. right now, you’re trying on a cute dress to go out with your girlfriends later this week, modeling it in front of the mirror while he sits casually on your bed next to the pink bunny. he looks exactly like the best invisible boyfriend you don't know you have… you are so pretty it hurts his non-existent soul.

he is becoming utterly obsessed. it’s not love, a prince of hell doesn't know what that is, but he is extremely drawn to you and your pure energy. across dimensions, even when he is deep in the abyss of hell, he can hear the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, guess your exact location, read your emotions, and feel your anxiety spike. the love rune he carved between your cleavage and on your thighs acts as a literal contract. it binds your soul directly to him, creating a forced emotional and psychological bond. the side effects are beginning to bleed into your waking life: a supernatural attraction, a phantom pull blurring the lines between a terrifying curse and genuine feelings.

you don't know what the fuck is happening. mercury is in retrograde, right? yeah. you decide to blame all your current life problems on mercury because, please, the planets need to calm down. all you want to do is have one peaceful evening where you aren't fighting with the literal air and looking like a crazy old lady who spent the last five decades alone.

giving up on the dress, you change into a pair of oversized clothes and collapse onto your living room couch. you just want to chill, watching tv while snuggled under your favorite fluffy blanket. jeongguk follows you, seamlessly crossing the room to sit on the armchair right beside the couch, propping his chin on his hand as he watches you. but just as he’s settling in to enjoy the quiet moment with you, the television screen distorts.

the sin of sloth appears out of thin air, sitting flat on the floor in front of your small coffee table, his head tilted back as he stares up at what you have been watching.

"documentaries about dead lizards? how old is she, five?" an amused scoff escaped his lips while listening to the random facts. "very cute that she doesn't believe in god."

jeongguk rolls his eyes, not moving from his spot on the armchair, though his eyes flash a warning crimson. it doesn't matter if you believe in something or not; the wrath couldn't care less about your religious stance. you are his, and that's all that matters.

"what are you doing here, taehyung?" jeongguk asks, though it manifests to your human ears as just a sudden draft of cold air that makes you shiver and pull your blanket higher.

taehyung turns his head, his sharp fangs catching the light of the tv as he grins at the younger demon. "just checking in on wrath's new little pet. also, jimin said he would slice your throat when he sees you again." shrugging his shoulders against the coffee table. "is that why you're hiding in the mortal realm… to run away from envy?"

jeongguk doesn’t show a reaction, his gaze sliding from taehyung back to your face, watching your nose crinkle as you adjust the volume. "he was too slow, it wasn’t my fault that she belongs to me now.”

"you just scribbled your name on the wrapper," taehyung points out, rolling his eyes as he reaches toward your bowl of popcorn on the table, his fingers passing right through the ceramic. "besides, if you keep flooding her apartment with this much energy, you're going to break her before you even get to taste her. she looks like she's about to faint."

taehyung wasn't lying. the atmosphere in your living room has double the spiritual pressure you've ever felt in your life. the air feels like it's physically pressing down on your shoulders, making it hard to draw a full breath. your heart begins to beat violently against your ribs, as panic sets into your chest. you feel absolutely terrified, your eyes darting around the empty room and jeongguk can feel that. through the love rune, his protective instincts instantly flare, his posture stiffening as his eyes lock onto your trembling form.

the sound fuzzes in the back of your ears, like a radio tuned between two stations, before fading into overlapping murmurs. you can actually hear them. voices bickering right in front of you, but you can't understand a thing as the overwhelming presence of them makes your head throb painfully behind your eyes.

"you're crowding her, taehyung. leave," jeongguk barks, and you could feel the vibration.

"i'm just sitting here, you're the one leaking wrath like a cracked furnace," taehyung retorts, his deep voice bouncing off the walls of your mind.

"shut up," you suddenly whisper into the empty air, pressing your palms tightly against your ears. your head is starting to hurt so badly from all the commotion, your vision is swimming slightly as you stare at the flickering television screen. you don't know what's going on or why you are reacting to literal nothingness, but to you, it is absolutely not nothing.

jeongguk opens his mouth to say something else, but taehyung cuts him off.

the sin of sloth reaches out, slapping a hand over wrath's mouth, his eyes wide as he sends a fierce glare at his younger brother. shush, taehyung's expression says clearly, keep quiet and don't you dare open your mouth.

talking entirely with his eyes, taehyung nods over at you, gesturing to how you are visibly calming down the moment the auditory chaos stops. jeongguk glares at the hand over his face, his veins slowly starting to pop out, but he forces himself to go completely still.

for the next two minutes, the two lords of hell engage in a completely ridiculous lip-sync argument. taehyung mouths words playfully waving his hands around, gesturing to the television and your stressed-out posture. while jeongguk just stares at him with unblinking eyes, subtly lifting a single finger to threaten his brother with silent promises of violence, bickering like kids refusing to share a toy.

it’s completely absurd if you could actually see them. on the couch, you let out a shaky breath as the phantom voices dissolve back like they were never there. you wrap the fluffy blanket tighter around your shoulders, staring blankly at the screen.

that's it, you think to yourself, a hysterical laugh bubbled up in your throat. i'm officially becoming schizophrenic. you promise that you will never drink energy drinks again or stay up until three in the morning. no more reading weird internet threads, before you totally lose your mind.

jeongguk watches you with the genuine softness that melts the harsh edges of his features as he hears your frantic thoughts. you think you're crazy, and the literal prince of wrath is sitting three feet away, entirely captivated by how adorable you look when you're stressed.

the youngster completely ignores his older brother, who is still standing there smirking and making teasing heart-signs with his hands. but the second jeongguk turns his head to glare him out of existence, the spot in front of the coffee table is empty. the sin of sloth had vanished as quickly as he came, leaving nothing but a faint cold trail behind.

alone in the room with you, he leans back into the armchair, his gaze tracking the slow rise and fall of your chest as you finally begin to relax. the urge to pin you to that mattress, and finally feel your soft skin against his is an agonizing torture with every single ticking second. 

but the sin of wrath forces himself to wait just a little bit longer. he needs you to get used to the spiritual realm first, your soul to completely adapt to his dark energy, before he pulls you under for good. the night when he finally consumes is coming, and when it does, he won't be hiding in the shadows anymore.

for two consecutive weeks, you feel like a completely possessed doll.

the paranoia doesn't go away; if anything, it grows stronger with every passing hour. you start hearing distinct whispers in the dead of night, feeling the undeniable sensation of someone’s large hands tracing lines across your skin. worse, you wake up in the freezing hours of the morning feeling a radiating heat pressing against your back, like someone is sleeping right beside you, tangling their legs with yours. you tried everything to ward off the evil. you lined your windows with sea salt, burned sage until your eyes watered, and left protective charms on your nightstand, but to no avail.

you finally broke down and talked to your friends about it, but you just got the exact response you'd already predicted: it's all in your head, you're just stressed, you're imagining things.

well, if you are imagining things... then why is the man from your dreams literally standing five meters away from you right now?

you freeze in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, the bustling sounds of the city entirely fading. it’s him. the exact same messy hair, a white compressed shirt, and the dark tattoos adorning his entire right arm. and those captivating chocolate-brown eyes are staring right at you through the moving crowd.

the mind games you don’t know you are even playing are turning you batshit crazy. you genuinely start to question if you need to visit a therapist or directly sign yourself up for the psych ward. but before you can pull out your phone, right there, in the middle of the daylight, he gives you a surprisingly endearing bunny smile.

you blink just once, and he is... gone, as if the space he occupied never existed.

jeongguk can't wait anymore. he is messing with you on purpose now, his obsession fully mutating into a desperate need to make you realize the truth: yes, babe, i'm real. yes, i own your soul. yes, i am completely in love with you, even if i have no fucking clue how i am capable of feeling this. yes, i want to spend my entire immortal existence wrapping myself around you.

you start chasing him through the crowded streets. you don't even know why you're running, but the invisible love rune on your body is pulsing and acting like a supernatural compass. even if you can't see him, you know exactly where he is. weaving through people, your heart in your throat, catching glimpses of his shirt, turning a corner, ducking into an alley. you burst around the corner, entirely out of breath, expecting to find the dark-eyed stranger. instead, you slam hard into a broad chest.

"whoa there, little lamb. why the hurry?"

you stumble back, looking up at a tall, raven-haired stranger with a model-like face and an incredibly deep voice. the man is wearing a tailored silk shirt and a cat-like smirk that makes your survival instincts scream. he doesn't step away, but directly into your personal space, leaning down slightly. "you look like you've seen a ghost. or maybe... a demon?"

"i–i'm sorry, i’m just looking for someone," you stammer, your mind fracturing under the intense spiritual pressure radiating off him. "he was just here, a tall man, and he had tattoos–"

"ah, the boy with the bunny smile," the stranger cuts you off, humming smoothly as his tongue grazes his fangs. he tilts his head, whispering something entirely confusing right into your ear. "he’s a very greedy creature, darling. he likes to take things that don't belong to him, and right now, he's holding your heart in the palm of his hand in a place where the sun never rises. i'd tell you to run, but his wrath is much faster than your little legs."

you recoil, your eyes widening in sheer shock. "what–"

"wake up, pretty girl," taehyung winks, stepping backward into the shadows of the alleyway. before you can reach out to grab his sleeve, a sudden wave of dizziness hits you, the entire world spinning violently on its axis until the brick walls and city streets dissolve into absolute blackness. when you open your eyes, you are not outside.

you are in your bed, breathing heavily, clutching your blanket like it’s your last resort, your fingers white from how tightly you're gripping the fabric. there is no raven-haired man. there is no tattooed stranger. just you and the plush bunny tucked securely under your arm.

it was just a dream.

but the relief is cut incredibly short when the phantom itching flares up with a vengeance. it’s not an ordinary itch; it is an internal heat concentrated perfectly between your cleavage and stretching along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. it’s beneath your clothes like an electric current. groaning, you throw the covers off and shuffle into the bathroom, needing to splash some cold water on your face and freshen up from the cold sweat coating your skin. the apartment is dead quiet. you turn the faucet on, letting the icy water pool in your hands before pressing it to your burning face.

you wipe your eyes and lift your head to look at yourself in the glass.

right behind your reflection, standing flush against your back in the cramped space of the bathroom, is the tattooed man from your dreams. his broad chest is practically pressed against your shoulder blades, his piercing eyes locked onto yours through the mirror. before you can even scream, he gives you that same cute bunny smile you saw on the street.

you blink rapidly, a violent gasp leaving your throat, and he’s gone once again.

"what the fuck..." you whisper, your hands trembling so hard you have to grip the edge of the sink. you are tired. so, so incredibly tired. it’s a bone-deep exhaustion, a heavy lethargy that makes your limbs feel like lead, almost like something is actively draining you, having your soul slowly sucked right out of your body day by day. you lean against the counter, your mind racing. do you have some strange, fucked up version of sleep paralysis? and if you do, why the hell are your demons some breathtakingly hot guys you’ve never seen in your life? you have so many questions, and frankly, you don't even know if you want the answers.

one thing is for certain: you can't go back to sleep. you simply can't.

fear and extreme anxiety take over, turning your survival instincts up to a frantic thousand. you march through your apartment, flicking on every single light switch until the entire place is completely lit up, leaving no dark corners for shadows to hide in. you retreat back to your bed, propping your pillows up and hugging the bunny plushie tightly to your chest, desperately trying to find anything to distract your racing mind.

pulling out your phone and opening tiktok, hoping for mindless scrolling to numb the panic. but the universe has a sick sense of humor. the very first video on your feed is a creator talking about spiritual anomalies, specifically titled: signs you've been targeted by an entity.

you try to scroll past it, but your thumb freezes as the voice narrates the symptoms. unexplained, symmetrical markings or itching on the body that feels like a burning rash. heavy and suffocating spiritual pressure in your home. vivid and consecutive dreams, a sudden drain on your physical energy. the video offers a deeper explanation. in demonology, an incubus will often mark their chosen human prey on the chest, back, or thighs to warn other spirits away. this acts as a contract, binding your soul directly to them.

your phone slips from your hand, clattering onto the mattress. wait, what if... an incubus actually marked you in your sleep?

pressing your back against the headboard, chuckling nervously. oh shit, you are crazy for real. you've officially lost your mind and let an internet folklore break your brain. but as you look down at your chest, feeling the unmistakable throb of the invisible sigil pulsing between your breasts, the skepticism dies. all the paranormal things that have happened to you recently, like the moving objects, the shifting lights, the physical touch, have absolutely no other explanation.

you don't know what’s real and what’s not anymore. the bickering in the underworld has settled, jeongguk’s patience has entirely run out, and the waiting is officially over. tonight, the sin of wrath is coming to claim his prize in the flesh, and as the bedroom lights suddenly begin to flicker and dim one by one, you find yourself desperately wishing it was all just a dream.

despite the bright lights illuminating every single corner of your apartment, the exhaustion finally wins. your eyelids grow impossibly heavy, your fingers loosening around your bunny plushie as you drift off into a deep and inescapable slumber.

physically, you are safe in your room, but spiritually, your soul is wandering through a manifestation of the abyss. you find yourself standing in the middle of a place you’ve never seen before. it looks like an endless castle hallway with the towering arched ceilings, velvet draperies that hang like heavy shadows, and an oppressive pressure that makes your breath bloom into white mist, a terrifying reminder of the unknown. a fragile human spirit wandering a realm where you don't belong.

stepping out of the dark, the tattooed man from before appears, but this time, he isn't silent. his presence is a massive punch of pure authority, yet his whole demeanor is entirely soft as his dark chocolate eyes lock onto you. he approaches you with slow steps, and before fear can fully paralyze you, he reaches out to grab your hand. his large palm is the only warm thing in this entire hellscape. he intertwines his tattooed fingers with yours, his grip is tight and possessive, but his touch is incredibly gentle as he looks down at you.

"you shouldn't be here," his soft voice vibrates through your entire spiritual body, completely soothing the panic in your chest. "it's not safe for you, angel. your mind shouldn't have dug this deep."

he tugs you along, and you follow without an ounce of resistance. he takes you away down the winding corridor, leading you into a lavish bedroom draped in deep crimson. he's acting exactly like prince charming, saving you from a terrible danger, his broad shoulders shielding you from everything, when in reality... he is the danger itself. a monster lurking in the dark, yet your heart is on a roller-coaster ride out of excitement rather than fear.

once the door clicks shut, jeongguk steps closer, his large hands reaching up to delicately cup your face, his thumbs smoothing over your cheekbones with a softness that catches you off guard. he looks at you like you are the most precious thing he has ever laid his eyes on, maybe because you are.

"are you okay?" he murmurs, his thumb catching a stray tear you didn't even know you shed. "did i scare you outside? i didn't mean to, dollface. you're safe now. i’ve got you."

he doesn't even fully understand what is happening to him, an ancient prince of hell harboring such a protective softness for a mortal girl, enslaved by the pull. you stare into his hypnotic eyes, as you swallow hard, your voice shaking as you finally decide to speak up.

"who are you?"

a wicked smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. for whatever fucked up reason, you feel so intensely drawn to him. your body, your mind, and your soul are so entirely pure, but standing in front of this darkness, you feel an aching need to be claimed and stained by him. you want to offer yourself to him on a silver platter and let him consume every sweet part of you.

"would you really want to know?"

jeongguk is at a total loss because he doesn't know what’s happening to him either. a literal creature of hell, one of the worst and most feared sins, is being so incredibly soft with his prey... or rather, his future lover. the moment he found you, he knew he didn't want anyone else. his intense obsession twists into a protective tenderness that he doesn't even know how to process himself. he just knows he needs to hold you.

"are you the one causing me to be paranoid all this time?"

"yes and no," he murmurs, his thumb softly tracing your jawline.

your eyes shine so bright, even when filled with fear, and your vanilla scent is an intoxicating aroma he could drown in. your heartbeat is music to his ears, and most importantly, that sweet soul of yours is like a lantern in the dark. your energy is so pure that it completely blinds him and strips away his demonic senses. you made him feel the impossible. you chained him up, even though you are the one actually trapped in his web.

you keep asking questions: what is he? who is he? is he even real? why are you here? what is going on?

so wrath decides to shut you up.

the second his lips press against yours, your entire world shatters. he leans in, tilting your chin up, and to deepen the kiss. you gasp into his mouth, but instead of pulling away, you kiss him back with the same desperate fervor. his warm hands cup your face, his thumbs wiping away the tension as he presses his weight forward, backing you up slowly until your knees hit the edge of the massive mattress. you fall back into the big bed of the velvet room, dragging him down over you.

and that’s when the dream boundaries begin to crumble.

the scenery of the castle starts to blur, because you suddenly start to feel the physical reality of your own mattress beneath your back. the sleep paralysis keeps you from moving your physical body, but you can feel everything. you moan into his mouth as the kiss deepens, becoming wilder and more passionate. letting out a soft whimper as you feel his fangs lightly bite your lower lip, drawing a spark of electricity through your nervous system.

"i want you," jeongguk murmurs against your lips, his hot breath fanning over your face as his hands slide down to grip your waist tightly. he whispers sweet promises into the quiet space between you, demonic voice swirling through your subconscious like poison. "i'll keep you safe... from my brothers, from every other being that ever tries to look at you. you don't ever have to fear me, my pretty angel. i will do absolutely anything for you... just let me fully claim you."

mapping out the curves of your waist through your clothes, his thumbs trace the hot itch on your inner thighs. he nuzzles into your neck, his lips pressing wet kisses along your jaw. the sensory overload is too much, forcing your consciousness to break through the fog. you force your heavy eyelids to flutter open, expecting the empty safety of your room, but the reality is far more intoxicating.

the bedroom lights are still on, casting a harsh glow over the reality of your situation: jeongguk is there. he has physically manifested over you, pinning your body down with his immense weight.

he doesn't give you time to process when his movements are a blurring mix of feral hunger and worship. he starts stripping the oversized shirt over your head, leaving you completely bare beneath him. his thumb drags heavily across the love rune between your cleavage, his sharp claws slightly grazing the sensitive skin, making you whimper and arch off the mattress. you're caught entirely between the terrifying gravity of the supernatural and the undeniable attraction pulling you straight into his chest. you try to protest, a soft gasp leaving your lips, but he replaces the sound with another possessive kiss that completely steals your breath.

jeongguk is a different breed when he’s unleashed. his wrath morphs into a consuming, obsessive passion as he pulls away from your lips, his gaze dragging down your naked torso.

"look at you," he growls out, his deep voice vibrating against your skin as he begins kissing his way down your body. "so fucking beautiful. my angel... my pretty doll. the only thing i need."

his tongue tracing your most sensitive spots until you are crying out, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. he calls you every metaphor his ancient mind can conjure — his dove, the apple of his eye, the light of his life, his beloved, his one and only. he speaks to you like a deity speaks to a miracle, his hot breath fanning over your damp skin.

but he is still a creature of sin. he doesn't just kiss; he claims. jeongguk bites down hard on the soft skin of your hip, leaving a plum-colored hickey, marking you with physical bruises alongside his invisible runes. the way you moan completely drives him over the edge. embarrassed, you try to cover your naked chest with your hands, trying to shield yourself from his intense stare.

chuckling, he easily wraps his large hands around your wrists, removing them from your chest and pinning them firmly next to your head, lacing his fingers with yours.

"don't hide from me," he murmurs, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, biting your shoulder just hard enough to make you whine. "let me see what's mine."

taking a brief moment to catch his breath, staring down at your flushed face, with his hands still locking yours, he nudges your chin with his nose. "undress me," he whispers, releasing your wrists just enough so your hands fall against the heavy fabric of his shirt. "go on... you have all the rights like i do."

your hands are trembling, and your brain is screaming at you that this makes no sense — is this a wet dream? a hallucination? an actual entity? you don't fucking know anymore, and honestly, the pleasure rippling through your veins makes you past the point of caring. you want the burning to stop, you want the itch to go away, and you want him.

as your fingers clumsily work at his clothes, exposing his broad chest, and heavily tattooed right arm, you look up into his chocolate-brown eyes one last time, desperate for a grain of reality.

"please tell me…" you breathe out, your voice cracking. "...who are you?"

this time, he doesn't speak in riddles. he leans down, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he finally gives you a piece of the truth.

"jeongguk," it’s cementing itself into your soul. "my name is jeongguk."

wrath bleeds into the very fabric of how he handles you. he’s a little harsh, possessive and borderline mean, but never in a degrading way. it’s the desperation of a demon who yearns, a prince of hell who has spent thousands of years feeling nothing but the cold fire of the abyss, now burning for a single mortal girl. he is so fiercely ambitious to have you, so smug that he even got into a fight with his own envious brother just to keep his hands on you. out of all the sins, jeongguk had to be the one favored to know and have you.

you belong entirely to him now, and your soul seems to accept it before your mind even can.

because he is a demon feeding on your energy, the intimacy is magnified a thousand times over. when his tattooed hand slides down your torso to part your legs, your breath hitches. his rough fingers slip between your thighs, finding your heat and rubbing slow circles against your swollen folds. instantly closing your eyes and trembling, your toes curling into the mattress as any remaining resistance melts away into an approval and submission.

"look at how wet you are for a monster like me, angel.” he pushes one thick finger inside you, and a ragged breath escapes your lips. jeongguk feels how tightly your walls wrap around him. he adds a second finger, then a third, stretching you out, prepping your body and forcing you to get used to his relentless tempo. his thumb never stops working your clit, driving you completely insane.

you cling to his massive biceps like a lifeline, your nails digging into his skin as your hips helplessly chase his hand. the pleasure is so intense, so overwhelming for your fragile human senses, that silent tears begin to escape your eyes, falling like diamonds down your flushed cheeks. a sin like him is so completely down bad for a mere human.

"you like that, hm? tell me, sweetheart," he murmurs, his fingers curling inside you, picking up the pace until you’re whimpering his name like a prayer. "let me hear those sweet sounds. you're doing so good for me… so perfect. you feel so fucking warm."

he isn't even trying to drain you. a demon is supposed to feed on the soul, to deplete it until there's nothing left, but jeongguk doesn't want to consume your energy tonight. he just wants to exist inside the warmth of it. he wants to drown in the human light of your spirit.

"you're mine," he growls against your lips, his fingers driving deep one last time before he pulls them out before you could orgasm, leaving you empty and begging on the sheets. "nobody else gets to touch you. remember my name when i'm inside you, doll."

and remembering his name is all you can do as he aligns himself between your parted thighs, his massive cock rubbing against your dripping entrance.

"wait," you stutter, your hands flying to his chest, trying to push against his dead weight. your hips try to shrink back into the mattress. you want him so badly, your body is literally weeping for him, but looking down at the reality of what he's about to do to you makes you terrified. "no, no... jeongguk, wait. i can't. you're too big... i can't take all of that."

jeongguk doesn't pull away. instead, he settles deeper between your legs, his heavy hips pinning you down as he leans forward, trapping your small frame beneath his. his hand cups your face, forcing you to look directly into his slightly crimson-lit eyes.

"you can, and you will, sweetheart," his tone leaves no room for argument. he presses a reassuring kiss to your trembling lips before pulling back just enough to look at you. "if you couldn't handle me, why would i have chosen you in the first place? do you have any idea how hard it is for a prince of hell to pick a decent human being to do this with? i didn't wait weeks just for you to back down."

prince of hell? the words echo in your mind, it would explain absolutely everything if he is a literal demon, but fuck it… your body is entirely on fire, and the thought of being left denied this pleasure is far more terrifying than whatever supernatural creature is hovering over you.

you take a deep breath, consciously forcing your tensed thighs to relax and widen for him.

his expression softens, a smirk spreading across his lips as he feels your compliance. "such a good girl," he praises, his thumb wiping a stray tear from your cheek. "just relax for me. i'm going to take such good care of you, angel. i'm going to make this night completely unforgettable."

holding your gaze, he slowly tilts his hips and sinks inside you.

inch by agonizing inch, his thick length forces its way into your tight walls. a loud scream tears from your throat, your back arching violently off the sheets as tears stream down your face. he is massive, stretching you to your absolute limit; it’s overwhelming, but as he bottoms out, burying himself completely inside your cunt, the pain instantly morphs into a euphoric rush.

it defies all logic. he fits so perfectly inside you, filling every empty corner of your soul, that it genuinely feels like you were intelligently designed just to harbor his wrath.

the prince lets out a low groan, throwing his head back, completely overcome by the intoxicating warmth of your soul wrapping around his cock. "fuck," he gasps out, his knuckles turning white as he locks his fingers with yours, pinning your hands to the bed once again. "you were made for me…. completely made for me."

he rides the high of his absolute conquest, looking down at you as you completely lose your mind beneath him. he pauses for a second, bottoming out completely, before he begins to drive into you ruthlessly, his heavy hips slamming against yours with unyielding power that feels like it’s rearranging your guts, mixing his hellish dna with your human one.

and all you can do is cry out his name. you moan, you whimper, your fingers clawing at the tensed muscles of his back as your heels dig into the mattress. "jeongguk, please... jeongguk," you beg, desperate for the sweet escape of a climax, but he is completely in control of your pleasure.

"fuck, why do you feel so fucking good?" looking down at your undone form, his large ego swells to a dangerous high. he won. jimin is empty-handed, taehyung is asleep, and you are here, weeping under him. he can feel your very soul surrendering to him through the pulsing heat of the love rune. "the way you take me... so tight, so perfect. my pretty, compliant little doll."

wanting to consume every ounce of your reaction, jeongguk brings his tattooed hand up to your neck, wrapping his fingers around your throat. he squeezes gently, just enough to restrict your breath, and make your pupils dilate with fear.

the desperate and needy look that crosses your face makes him want to combust. his chest heaves as he looks down at you, his thumb rubbing against your jawline while his fingers hold you captive. with his other hand, he grabs your thigh, as he begins to fuck you brutally, the pace turning feral and relentless. he leans down, his sharp fangs grazing your collarbone before he bites down hard, leaving another bleeding mark on your skin. you let out a strangled, choked-off cry, your hips helplessly rising to meet his devastating rhythm.

he is willing to give you the world, burn the abyss to the ground if that’s what it takes to keep you chained to him. "give it all to me," he gasps against your skin, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper, and completely unforgiving as he drives you both right to the edge of the precipice. "let me have all of you, angel. you're mine… forever mine."

the sound of skin slapping echoes in room as he drives you deeper into the mattress. jeongguk is relentless, his stamina entirely unmatched by anything mortal. suddenly, your inner walls begin to ripple, tightening around his massive length. you're orgasming as your eyes roll back, your entire body shaking as the climax rips through your nervous system.

losing the last of his demonic self-control as he follows you right after. slamming his hips down one last, brutal time, burying his cock to the absolute hilt as he comes at the same time as you.

he thrusts so deep as he unloads a thick current of hot seed directly into you. he holds himself flush against you, his tensed muscles trembling as he fills your womb to the brim. a tummy bulge against your lower abdomen is a visual stamp of his complete overindulgence.

collapsing on top of you, he pants against your neck, his ancient mind begins to drift into uncharted territories. feeling your trembling stomach, and a possessive thought takes root: having little offspring with you. wouldn't that be absolutely adorable? half-human, half-demon hybrids running around his castle. the sin of wrath doing the most forbidden and taboo thing of all — creating life with a mortal. he wants it so badly his fangs ache, but perhaps not right now. for tonight, he is content just leaving you thoroughly ruined and marked.

even though he cums once, he doesn't pull out, stop or let you rest. his stamina is infinite, and he instantly hardens right inside your slick warmth, picking the pace back up without a single shred of mercy.

it goes on for hours. hours of your bodies clashing under the harsh lights, of you cumming together over and over again until your mind is completely fried. during the haze of it all, jeongguk leans down, his sweat-damp hair brushing your cheek as he murmurs things like, i love you. it’s sincere, even if a creature like him doesn't truly understand what love is.

you are completely spent, both body and mind are an absolute mess, utterly unraveled by the supernatural intensity of it all. you have never been desired in such a way. no human man could ever make you feel like this, and if someone was going to steal your innocence, you are glad it's a demonic manifestation like him. the man of your dreams. jeongguk. you will get used to this, you want to get used to him.

suddenly you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss him. weeping into his mouth as you swallow his low growls, matching his rhythm with the last of your fading strength. but your human body simply can't hold on anymore. after one final and devastating thrust that sends a wave of white-hot pleasure through your soul, your eyes flutter shut. your arms slip from his shoulders, and you collapse right beneath.

jeongguk pulls back slightly, an incredibly tender bunny smile spreading across his face as he looks down at his utterly claimed angel. you don't actually fall asleep, but you lazily open your eyes to stare blankly at the ceiling while your breathing slowly stutters back to normal. the demon doesn't move away either; he stays aligned with you, moving so he’s resting on his elbows, watching the erratic pulse in your neck calm down.

your brain is trying to compute everything. what the actual fuck just happened?

sensing your absolute mental overload, jeongguk finally slips out of you with a slick sound that makes you whimper, but before you can even hiss from the loss of him, the terrifying prince of wrath does the most human thing possible: he drags your spent body right back against his chest, tucking your head securely under his chin. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling the fluffy blanket all the way up to your shoulders. casually plays with a strand of your hair.

you're stiff as a board as he cuddles you, "you're... you're really a demon.”

"i am," he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, his other hand idly tracing soothing circles over your hip. "and hell is very real, too. also your guardian angels don't seem to be doing a very good job of keeping you protected if i could just stroll right in here and do that to you ."

you let out a weak, disbelieving choke, too exhausted to even hit his chest. he is a teasing piece of shit, entirely smug about his victory. you just blink into the dimming light of the room, your brain desperately trying to wire the two completely different versions of the entity lying next to you. one second he is ruthlessly choking you while maintaining burning, terrifying eye contact, and the very next second, he is being a clingy, all-caring boyfriend who won't let you breathe without hugging you. it’s absolute whiplash.

"so... what happens now?" you ask, your fingers nervously curling into the fabric of the blanket.

"you're mine now. for as long as you breathe in this mortal realm, you belong to wrath. and when you die, your soul is permanently attached to mine. my brothers can't touch you. no other entity can even look at you. i've stamped my name into your spirit."

you're bound to a high lord of hell forever. you should be screaming, you should be throwing the salt you have left, but looking at how tightly his arms are wrapped around your waist, you realize you're already too deep in this rabbit hole.

jeongguk grows quiet as he listens to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. he looks down at you, his eyes suddenly lacking their usual demonic arrogance, replaced instead by a vulnerability that he clearly doesn't know how to handle. he can't believe it either. he's a sin, an immortal symbol of anger, yet he’s currently holding a human girl like she's the only one keeping him from drifting into the void.

he buries his face deep into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, vanilla scent one more time, his shoulders tensing as he squeezes you closer.

"can you teach me about love?" he whispers into your skin, holding you so tightly it feels like he wants to fuse your bodies together. "because whatever this is... whatever you're making me feel right now... i don't have a name for it in hell."

hello, my dear readers ! thank you so much for reaching the end i hope you liked it also *wink wonk* this has the potential to become a series, and let me know if you would want one with this demon!au where sins compete for your purity ! inbox and dm are open, so i would love to see you there (anon asks exist for a reason) !

© 97DOLLZ do not copy, repost or modify my work.

taglist ( dm or comment to be added ) ⋆ @strhwa @way2jellyous @tinyfixon @thatonelocalbookworm @kookied

[vsthv]

we drunk fucking? — jungkook one shot

boyfriend!jungkook x fem!reader. smut, silly happenings. “be quiet”, drunk selves, pussy eating, blowjob. tw: swearing, oral sex.

“fuck right there.” you moaned, your legs held wide with your own arms as his tongue pressed into your clit. his cold piercing made contact with your wet folds, the sensation driving you insane.

his tongue knew your weakest points, dragging it along your pussy in long stripes with perfectly applied pressure. reaching your entrance, his tongue pushed into you with no hesitation, his nose now deep in your puffy folds.

his hips thrusted down into the bed, his restrained cock needing friction if it wasn’t inside you. pulling away with a string of your arousal and his saliva following, he giggled before licking your folds and rubbing his mouth all over you, his chin now covered in your wetness.

he climbed back up towards you, kissing his way up your body before stopping at your breasts. he eyed your mounds before briefly enveloping your nipple in his mouth, playfully sucking it and licking it gently, his chin spreading your own arousal.

your hands made their way to his hair, fingers lost and pulling at its messiness. he faced you, breathing heavy as his mouth had been occupied.

“you’re wild.”

“it wouldn’t be fun if I wasn’t.” he grinned, his eyes piercing into yours.

wanting to challenge him, you smiled. “I can be wild too, y’know.” fingers traveling to his chest, nails slightly scratching his perfect skin.

“show me.” he moaned, licking a long stripe up your neck before letting you go. making your way on top of him, you palmed his erection restrained in his boxers. he watched as you kneeled in from of him, laying down as he knew what was coming.

you placed your tongue on his outlined cock, your hand taking him with along with the thin fabric. leading up to his tip, you tasted his already flowing precum, a wet spot adorning the expensive calvin klein pair.

“fuck,” he muttered, his hand finding its way to your head, wrapping your hair around his hand to push you into him, his hips uncontrollably thrusting upwards a few times.

one thing about jungkook, he’s vocal. your free hand tapped knee, your eyes warning him to keep quiet, his friends were just across the hall, one of them next door.

he grinned at your expression, bringing a pillow to his mouth and biting it down, his smug smile not disappearing.

the teasing taste of his precum made you run out of patience, freeing his cock from the barrier of his. he was hard, red, and leaking. even after having sex multiple times, you’ll never get used to his girth.

your tongue swirled his heated head, pushing it against his hole as more arousal oozed out. licking your hand, you spread the moist on his length.

letting go of the pillow, he reached for the bottle of beer on the nightstand, brining it to his lips as he drank what was left. he sighed, hissing as the liquid made its way down his throat, placing it back on the nightstand with

taking him in all the way in, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. you whine, almost gagging, sending a vibration.

he chuckled, licking his teeth as his hand gripped your hair tighter, signaling you to bob your head. so you did.

your hand fisted what your mouth couldn’t take, hollowing your cheeks and licking the sides of his cock with a flat tongue.

“fuck you’re good, I taught you well.” he let out, breathlessly as you to took him in, your eyes meeting his.

his high came hot, his cum warm as you swallowed it. his hold on your hair grew tighter, his knees bucking and his hips thrusting to get deeper.

“you taste good.” you admitted, getting up and taking your beer on the other nightstand, surprised he hadn’t drunk it.

“of course I do.”

he giggled, his eyes drowsy as the alcohol took him over. “what if I act depressed and get in that closet over there?” he asked, turning serious all of a sudden.

“what..?”

he didn’t say a word, stuffing himself back in his boxers and wearing his jean jacket. he made his way to a small closet, sat on the bench inside, and closed himself in it.

in disbelief, all you could do was stare and wonder what the fuck went through his head. you heard him singing, emotion in his voice as if he were to start crying.

“jungkook, what the hell are you doing?”

he opened the door, a smile on his face as he laughed at your confused expression. “I don’t even know.” his words coming out wobbly.

note: he’s so silly but somehow manages to be so hot like wtf but anyway thanks for reading!!

taglist: @jungkoookieee , @mikrokookiex & @fkingl0ser !

[jenyluv]

SORRY, HEART

Jungkook fell in love with you after a disastrous programming midterm during freshman year and has been in love ever since. So when you invite him over after your ‘boyfriend’ suggests you guys take a break, he makes a very stupid offer. Now all he can do is pray you don’t slap him across the face and maybe, just maybe comply to his request. He’s looking out for you after all, isn’t he?

PAIRING: best friend!jk x reader

GENRE: smut, angst

WC: 6k

WARNINGS: boyfriend!kai kinda, they’re on a ‘break’ so it’s up to you guys to decide if there’s infidelity or not, jk's hungry and yearning, unrequited love (gotta write the fluffiest fluff after this), jealousy, smut wise: oral (f receiving), he fucks her w his nose kinda? i don’t fucking know, dirty talk, missionary (he’s in love okay 😔) , big d jk but when is he not at this point, i think that’s all

NOTES: this is not my best work but i haven’t posted something in so long i feel terrible so here we are. it’s inspired by the entirety of kid laroi’s new album lets all collectively thank him for getting me out of writer’s block. i still am struggling with wave so here’s a little something for leaving y’all high and dry im sorry okay. enjoy <3 (my banner is nct dreamified for some reason, maybe it’s due to the title who knows)

The first time Jungkook met Kim Jongin, your tongue was down his throat and your hips were drawing eights on his lap.

Literally.

He remembers it all too clearly because you had introduced your boyfriend approximately five seconds earlier before he pulled you back into his lap like he was trying to prove to the whole world that he had somehow managed to bag a girl like you and wasn't planning on letting anybody forget it. He had spent the whole night with you between his arms as if a sole minute of separation would mean risking losing you to somebody else.

Jungkook still thinks about that day sometimes, with a large emphasis on the sometimes. He thinks about that big, alluring smile on your pretty face when you'd excitedly introduced your boyfriend. He thinks about the sound of your laughter whenever Jongin whispered sweet nothings into your ear, or the way you'd curled closer into his embrace as the night grew darker and quieter like it was the most natural thing in the world. Jungkook still thinks about it all. Sometimes.

Oh how he wishes Jongin really did lose you that day. 

But he didn't. In fact, he kept you on his lap for a solid two devastating years.

Not that Jungkook could blame him. He couldn't. Not when he was one glance away from busting a nut the moment he saw you walk into the room that day in his favorite pink skirt of yours.

But the feeling was short lived, only lasting for a few seconds until his eyes dropped down to the man's hand you were holding in your own. Lucky bastard.

You were Jungkook's best friend. So, in retrospect, the ways he'd shamelessly picture you late at night were no where near normal. In fact, it made the best friend title he had once loved so much sound utterly ridiculous when said out loud. Because Jungkook was, in the humblest way possible, obsessed with you. 

And well, you see, the thing is— Jungkook didn't slowly fall in love with you. Yes, he is in love with you, okay? Life is life and he is long past the point of trying to deny or rationalize the feelings he has for you. You are, in Jungkook's words, an angel fallen from the sky. A temptation disguised as something innocent. 

He thinks he would've went to war for you— okay, maybe that is a stretch. But he would crack a one wish willow for you. Responsibly, of course.

Anyways, Jungkook has been in love with you for three entire years and he remembers the exact day it all happened. He remembers the exact moment his heart rate picked up, the exact second he felt birds shitting inside his stomach. He remembers everything. 

It happened sometime during freshman year on a random Thursday evening after a truly horrific programming midterm (half the reason why he remembers it so vividly is because of how successfully he managed to fail that exam). 

The two of you had ended up sitting on the floor of your tiny dorm room, backs pressed against the sides of your bed, discussing how south your academic careers magically went in the span of ninety minutes.

One minute you were talking normally, making stupid jokes about the fact that neither of you knew where the recursive function was supposed to stop, and next you were crying. Actually crying. All because of the semicolon you forgot to include somewhere between the endless lines of codes you were miserably trying to write and hell handled the rest of it. 

He doesn't really remember if the code ever worked, or whether you failed the class as terribly as he did. What he remembers is the way you kept apologizing for crying, as if being upset and vulnerable around him was just so horrible. Unaware of how he was already so down bad he'd give you his kidney if you ever asked. 

Even though he knows when, he doesn't really know why. Maybe it was the fact that you trusted him enough to let him see parts of yourself you tried so damn hard to hide, or maybe it was the way you folded into his arms when he hugged you properly for the first time ever, as though your body was made to be molded with his and continue living as one. 

But it doesn't really matter, because he's still pathetically in love with you the same way he was three years ago. Maybe now it's even worse. 

How can he not be when you look like that? People would sit up straighter when you walked into a room, look up at the sky and the birds and everything in between just to try not to stare too much.

Jongin, however, stared anyway. And the next thing he knew, you were screaming Jongin's name late at night while Jungkook was fisting his own cock wishing it were him instead. 

And, despite how sick it sounds when said out loud, the most unfortunate thing according to Jungkook was that you were happy. Like, genuinely happy. Because Jungkook knew it would be easier to move past everything if Jongin was an absolute piece of shit and didn't treat you the way you deserved. 

But he did. He made you so happy that even the idea of hating him was logically impossible. Because every time Jungkook tried, and trust me he tried, he'd catch you looking at your boyfriend like he gifted you the stars and suddenly feel like the biggest asshole alive. 

But Jungkook never really claimed to be a decent person. 

So he hated Jongin anyway. Quietly, in between ugly moments that belonged to the two of you and had nothing to do with him. He hated him when you weren't looking, when you were too upset to care, when you were over the moon and way too happy to notice the pettiness in his eyes.q He hated Jongin without letting you know. He wasn't that terrible of a friend, after all. 

The point is, Jungkook watched your relationship take root and bloom into flowers from behind the fence of a beautiful garden and behaved admirably well about it.

He silently counted the remaining petals of your seemingly undying love as months dragged themselves into years. The fragile little bud slowly flourished into a ravishing dahlia and Jungkook watched it bloom. He watched two years pass in a devastating haze as you loved your boyfriend loudly with the kind of devotion that made everybody else in the room gag and roll their eyes in envy.

Now the dahlia is dead.

Jungkook had thought about this before. He'd fantasized about your break up and everything that would come along with it. He thought that when the flower finally faded, all that's left of it would be wilted petals scattered across your apartment floor and your tear strained face laying on his shoulder while you tried to explain through sobs and hiccups exactly how bad said Kim Jongin broke your heart.

Except, when the day finally comes, that's not what happens. 

Right now you look…fine?

"You know what his problem is?" You say, irritation written all over your features.

Jungkook, who has spent the last two years hearing the everlasting matters of an impressively detailed list of Kim Jongin's problems, takes a sip from his beer. "Several things come to mind." 

You squint your eyes at him, hands dropping at both your sides. "Be serious for a second." 

"I am! I'm being dead serious." He says, throwing both hands in air, but the grin on his face keeps on growing. 

You don't know why he has been grinning stupidly for the past hour, mostly because you can't really see yourself the way he does. But Jungkook can, obviously. And he can not help that smile from growing as his gaze drifts over you for what must be the hundredth time today, taking in the sight of his favorite hoodie and your bare legs and the fact that you're finally single.

Well, sort of. Kind of. Maybe. 

"Okay." You continue. "Tell me if i'm being ridiculous." 

"You know i will." 

"Good." You say, fixing your posture as Jungkook braces himself for what's to come. 

"He asked for a break." 

Jungkook blinks. "Okay."

"And then he spends the next four days acting like we're still together. He texts me good morning, sends me TikToks when i'm supposed to be sleeping," You pause, inhaling a short breath. "He went feral yesterday because Mingyu commented under my post."

Oh. Oh.

"And then he proceeds to tell me maybe some distance would be healthy." 

Jungkook's eyebrows pull together. "Distance from what?"

"That's what i'm asking!" You exclaim, walking over to the couch, plopping your body next to his. "He's driving me insane." 

"That's because he is insane." 

You roll your eyes. "God, you hate him." 

"That's a reach." You send a look in his way at the words, then he sighs. "Okay, maybe i like him a teeny tiny bit less than the average person." 

You groan, dropping your head against the couch cushion. "Knew it." 

And besides you, that stupid smile has already made its way back onto Jungkook's lips and it takes a whole lot in you to refrain from throwing the TV remote at his face. 

Your head snaps towards him. "Can you stop looking so happy?" 

He cocks a brow. "Happy? I'm not happy. I've been sitting here listening to you complain for at least an hour" 

"You're enjoying this." 

He lets his head fall onto the backrest. "God, i'm not. It's just that you've been miserable for a week and now you're finally angry." 

"I've been angry all week." You say like it's obvious. 

"No, you were sad." 

Okay, to be fair, you never really thought of it like that. But it seems as though Jungkook has and for some reason, he's kind of correct. 

You've spent the past week trying to find out what Jongin wanted. You tried so hard to understand and fix and make sense of it all so that you wouldn't need to have this conversation with Jungkook right now. Maybe this is the first time you've let yourself be angry instead and it feels significantly better. 

"I think what's bothering me isn't the break." You tuck your legs beneath you, settling further into the couch. "It's that he can't even bother to tell me what's actually going on yet still acts like we're perfectly fine." 

Jungkook's eyes lift from the coffee table he was staring at, then turns towards you. "Can i be honest?" 

You sigh dramatically, already giving him the permission. "When are you not?" 

Jungkook laughs awkwardly, then scratches the back of his neck. Terrible, terrible sign. "I think you're giving him too much power." 

You blink. "Jungkook, he's my boyfriend." 

God, woman. Do you have to say it like that? 

His stomach drops at the word, but doesn't let it show. "I know what he is. What i'm trying to say is, he won't tell you what he actually wants and still you're the one trying to solve it." 

You stare at him silently, and he continues. "Maybe this time, focus on what you want instead of losing your mind over what he wants." 

Silence paints every corner of the room, coating everything from the pillows and the furniture all the way to the fruit on the table in shades of blue. Until you finally break it. 

"What if i don't know?" The way the question leaves your mouth is so small and quiet Jungkook thinks he wants to chew your cheeks until they're pink and puffy. 

"Then figure it out." He says instead, then shrugs. 

"Wow, your capacity is two logical sentences before you go back to being an unhelpful asshole." 

A smile tugs at his lips. "I try my best." He says, then winks as the can of Stella sways carelessly in his hand. 

You groan before grabbing a pillow and screaming into it, causing Jungkook to snort and the beer to bubble at the corners of his mouth.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, chuckling before speaking. "You really want me to help?"

You nod, swift and immediate, big eyes looking up his face innocently as Jungkook tries so hard not to milk his cock at the way you're currently batting your eyelashes at him.

He sighs, allowing his body to get more comfortable on the soft cushion of your sofa. "I think you should…unwind a little."

Your mouth parts in disbelief. "Of course you would think that!" You exclaim, surprising Jungkook a little by how sudden and loud your voice comes out. "Your sole purpose in life is to fuck every living organism with a pussy and i'm sitting here expecting you to give me solid advice. But it's my fault, i should've known." 

Jungkook's eyes widen slightly. "Woah. First of all, ouch, princess. I didn't know you thought of me like that." 

Guilt arrives the moment his voice reaches your ears, the sarcastic comment that was once ready to be fired back getting caught somewhere in the middle of your throat before dying out completely. 

You didn't mean it like that, that's for sure. But you didn't expect Jungkook to take it the way he did, either. He's still smiling, still looking at you like you're the light of his universe, but there is something behind his eyes that makes your stomach churn and chest sting in a way that almost makes you nauseous. 

"Sorry, you know i didn't mean that." You recollect yourself quickly, finding your courage back in the smile he gifts you. "What i'm trying to say is, it's been a week since we broke things off. A week, Jungkook. I'm not even sure if we've really broken up or not."

"What i think," Jungkook settles his beer on the coffee table, then shifts closer to you. "is that this is an excellent opportunity to explore your options." He says, tone dropping down by an octave. 

You scoff. "I'm not throwing myself onto a stranger's lap just to relax a little." 

"Nobody said anything about a stranger."

Excuse you?

You choke on fucking air, trying to breathe through a constellation of short breaths and coughs. "Sorry, i don't think i'm following." You manage to say once your breath is evened out. 

"You know exactly what i mean, princess." Now he's staring straight into your eyes and you're not sure if the way your heart is handling the situation is actually healthy. His voice is quieter, deeper in a way that's the exact opposite to how one should be talking to their best friend. 

"You want to…help me unwind?" You ask carefully. Damn that word. What the fuck does it even mean to unwind? 

Jungkook places a hand on your thigh, pulling you closer. "Think of it as a…favor. You remember that one time you saved my hamster's life last semester?" 

"No," You shake your head, completely and utterly lost in a daze. "No, not really." Yeah. He doesn't either. 

He nods slowly, the corners of his mouth curling. "Yeah, you did. So let me return the favor. Please." 

You think you're going to throw up. You think you're going to throw up so hard the both of you will be drowned inside the disgusting green liquid and won't ever see the light of day again.

What do you mean Jungkook is asking, begging for you to let him fuck you so that you'll be exploring your options and letting yourself unwind? What do you fucking mean Jeon motherfucking Jungkook, your dear, beloved best friend, is offering himself up just for you to relax a little and take your mind off of your ex-but-not-really-ex-boyfriend?

Okay, in all honesty, you'd be lying to say you've never thought about it. Never seriously, really, but you have. Because, you see; sky is blue, gravity is times ten, and Jeon Jungkook is attractive. Half the female population has reached that conclusion within the first thirty seconds of meeting him and it doesn't take you to make that into a fact. 

There had always ben teeny, tiny moments where you'd find yourself thinking about him for a fleeting second longer than you should have. Moments where he'd smile, moments where his biceps would flex a little too deliciously while doing basic human activities essential for survival, moments where somebody would ask if you were together and your stomach would twist for just a fraction of a second before pretending it never happened.

Those moments were very much real and already carved into the history books of you and Jungkook's years long friendship. But you had never thought of it like that, you never let yourself to think about it like that. You were in a fully committed, fully devoted relationship for two whole years, for god's sake. 

And you don't even know if you're still in it or not. 

Maybe you're reaching and he only wants to do something oh so nice for his best friend. Maybe he's pitying you, maybe he doesn't even find you attractive and the only reason he's doing this is because he's fed up with your sulkings and wants to have a peaceful night for once. 

Point is, said Jeon Jungkook is still sitting next to you. He's still looking right into your eyes with his big brown ones. The warmth of his hand is still occupying your thigh and maybe— Maybe, the idea of fucking Jeon Jungkook isn't so bad after all. 

You collect every ounce of dignity that's left in you and find your voice. "Do you hear yourself, Jungkook?" You ask, voice quieter than you planned it out to be. 

"Crystal fucking clear, princess." 

You feel his breath on yours when he says that, and it burns. It burns your lips and your stomach and before you know it, you feel it all the way down between your legs. 

"Will you let me?" He says into your ear, and even though the words are barely above a whisper, the weight of them feels so heavy you feel yourself crushing underneath it. Your bare legs are draped over his thick thighs now, the closure of your bodies making it impossibly harder to refrain from getting rid of distance in its entirety. 

You've completely abandoned every form of coherent thinking as you finally find the fortitude to nod. And before you can do anything reasonable fix it, you feel Jungkook's lips on yours.

He kisses you hungrily, as if he wants you to wither and decay until you exist for him and him only. His hands wrap around your waist while you pull him in deeper by his neck, his fingertips kissing the silver of skin exposed by the thin fabric of your tank top. 

Your head feels dizzy as his hands roam all over your body, feeling and carving every inch of your skin into his mind so that he can draw the outline of body and get it inked onto his heart. He pours every ounce of his heart and soul and coats your lips with it, leaving pieces of his love and marking them onto your bare skin. 

Jungkook lays you down on the couch, the action feeling way too gentle with his arms wrapped around you, body hovering over yours as his warm tongue swipes against your bottom lip. You're the one to pull away first, because it seems as though Jungkook has the stamina of a fucking dolphin and doesn't need oxygen to survive like the average human. 

He stares into your eyes like the entirety of his world is living inside them. You watch the rise and fall of his chest before pulling him in once again, fingers grazing the back of his neck. 

When his teeth tugs at your bottom lip, deepening the kiss, your legs part instinctively to accommodate his body. Jungkook starts grinding his hips over your clothed core, and your legs open even wider, then wrap around his waist. 

His cock presses deliciously into your core, already so hard and so ready, desperate for any type of friction. And God, is he desperate. This man has spent years dreaming about your warmth and he is going to make every second count. 

"Jungkook," You moan into his mouth, and Jungkook swallows it right back. He slides his tongue into your mouth at the opportunity, searching you deeper and deeper. 

"Gonna take such good care of you." He says after pulling away, placing wet kisses onto your jaw, then your collarbone. He stops when he reaches your chest, hands toying with the hem of your tank top. The only thing you can do is squirm under him. 

You give him a consensual nod when he eyes you from below, silently letting him know you want it off of you just as much as he does. Jungkook pulls the thin fabric over your shoulders, then physically falters at the sight of your boobs. And they're not even bare. 

He's going to fucking die.

He wants to bury his face in your chest and suffocate between your tits. He wants his lungs to be completely rid of oxygen until he can register nothing but the feeling of your soft boobs against his skin. 

He presses a few kisses on the soft swell of your boobs, fingertips tracing lines over the white lace before unhooking your bra. You arch in aid for him, lifting yourself up slightly so that he can reach a little easier. Jungkook lets the lace fabric fall onto the ground near the couch, then gasps audibly at the mere sight of your naked tits. 

"Fucking hell." He says, and you can't help but let your chest swell with pride when he reacts oh so desperately, worries you once had of him not finding you attractive disappearing into void.

If Jungkook ever heard that you were self conscious in the slightest bit, he would fuck you so impossibly hard until you understood how weak of a man he was for you— not that he won't regardless. 

He takes a nipple into his mouth and toys with the other, flicking the hardened nub between his fingers. The sounds you let out are obscene, pornographic even. You're a mess from so much as him sucking on your tits and Jungkook can only imagine how unreal you're going to sound when he finally fucks you. 

He crawls further to the opposite end of the couch, hands fiddling with the zipper of your tiny denim shorts that are a terrible excuse of clothing. Because they cover absolutely nothing and Jungkook has been hard since the moment you opened the door for him earlier. 

He pulls down your shorts along with your panties, patience running way too thin to tease you over the delicate lace fabric. There is nothing delicate about this. Jungkook has been starving for years and he is going to make sure you know it. 

He spreads your legs, placing both hands on your inner thighs to open you up for him. He feels his breath physically hitch at the sight of your bare pussy right in front of his eyes. Wet, aching and already leaking with arousal. Straight out of his dreams. Literally. 

Jungkook hooks your legs over his shoulders, then pulls you closer towards his face. You whimper when he first feels you up with his fingers, dragging his fingertip up and down your slit before opening up your folds, spreading them wide with two fingers. 

"Such a perfect fucking pussy. And you've been hiding it from me for years, baby. Letting boys who can't even satisfy you touch you while i'm right here." 

He slowly slides a finger inside you, eyes focused on your face as he watches over the way your face evolves through the depths of pleasure.

"Fuck, Koo. More, please." You moan, grinding your hips in air, eager for his touch. 

"Yeah? Want more, baby?" He asks, sliding another finger into your pussy, pace devastatingly slow. "Holy shit, you're so fucking wet." 

You nod rapidly from above, tears building at the corners of your eyes, pussy aching and begging for his mouth. "Y-yes, yes Koo. So wet for you. Please." 

Jungkook complies without another word. He pulls out his fingers before diving into your cunt. He sucks on your clit first, and you cry out in pleasure the second his hot, wet mouth contacts your bare core. 

Jungkook moans into your pussy when your hands fly to his hair, fisting his soft locks and pulling him impossibly closer. He slides his tongue down to your aching hole, then places his nose on your clit, having absolutely no desire to leave it untouched. 

As he fucks into your hole with his tongue, his nose presses against your clit, and you swear it makes you see white light for a second. Your back arches involuntarily and you keep on tugging at his hair as he forces you to your high, nose continuing to draw circles on your clit as he fucks your cunt with his tongue.

"Shit, Jungkook, 'm so close." Jungkook's tongue strokes through your folds faster as your cries grow louder and louder. Your thighs shake embarrassingly and your back arches even further when you finally reach your high, and Jungkook grounds you with a hand on your hip through it all, still rubbing your clit in circles.

Once you've fully ridden out your orgasm, he licks you clean, slurping the entirety of your juices. "Tastes fucking incredible." 

He comes up to kiss you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You tug at the hem of his shirt as he sucks on your bottom lip, then pulls it over his head to grant you your wish. 

It takes everything in you and more to not gasp at the sight of his naked body when he pulls down his sweats after. Because suddenly, Jungkook looks like you want to give him three babies and a house. 

You have seen him shirtless countless times before. You've went to pool parties and summer vacations and places that require the least amount of clothes. But never has it affected you like this. 

You knew Jungkook was attractive. You knew he had a solid physique and a face that would probably be worth millions if he was smart enough to abandon the misery of engineering and pursued modeling instead.

But it had never once felt like you need to drop to your knees and take every inch of his cock into your mouth until he's bleeding and crying and can not produce sperm anymore. 

"Like what you see, baby? Want me to fuck you stupid?" He says, stroking himself over the fabric of his boxers as he watches you squirm beneath him. 

You nod frantically. "Please, Jungkook." You beg for the nth time in the span of twenty minutes, not even thinking anymore, voice standing somewhere between a cry and a whine. 

He drags down his boxers, and your mouth parts at the sight of his bare cock. Because what the actual fuck? Your best friend has been packing, walking around with that all this time and you didn't have a single clue?

Your mouth opens before you can help yourself. "I don't think that's gonna—" 

He cuts you off. "It will, baby. If you stop talking and take it like the good girl you are, we'll make it fit."

You shut your mouth immediately after that, laying on the sofa silently as he pumps his length while staring down at you. Legs spread, body spent, everything so hot and messy. 

He positions himself at your entrance, dragging his cock over your folds, spreading your slick all over your swollen pussy. He enters you in a pace so dreadfully slow, making sure you feel every inch of his length between your wet walls. And god, it's so fucking wet. Arousal is dripping down your pussy all the way to your ass, slick staining the beige fabric of the couch cushions. You almost feel embarrassed at how wet you are, because you're soaking to the point where he'll slide right in without even trying yet he's doing the complete opposite. 

You want him to slam into you. You want him to fuck you so hard you cry on his cock. You want Jeon Jungkook to fucking break you because if you think about whatever today will mean for you in the future, for even a split second, you'll cry like a fucking baby. 

Because you don't know what to do with any of this. The things he's saying, the way he's looking at you, the way he's holding you…It all feels way too intimate for a guy like him. 

You don't know for sure if it's the high speaking but if not, it seems as though your best friend has built entire dreams around you that you never knew existed. 

"Do you know how many times i've thought about this? Fantasized about this pretty pussy while you played house with your pathetic little boyfriend?" Yeah, that confirms your worries. 

Once he's fully inside you, you feel deliciously stretched, walls clenching around his length. Your back arches off the bed involuntarily and you cry out in pleasure before he even properly thrusts into you.

You don't think you've ever taken a cock this big. Honestly, you don't think anyone else has a cock this big. Certainly, if you did, you'd never shut up about it. 

He tilts his head to look at where you’re connected, watching the way his cock is moving in and out of your cunt. “So tight, princess. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? Sucking me right in.”

All you can do is close your eyes and whimper at the feeling when he starts speaking again. “Answer me, baby. Use your big girl words.”

Your pussy clenches around his cock. “Yes, yes Jungkook. It’s all for you, only you.”

Jungkook groans at your words, then finds his pace after you adjust yourself to the stretch, fucking you fast and hard without wasting any more time. But the funny thing is, he looks into your eyes with so much love through it all, as if he isn't fucking you brutally, splitting you open on his massive cock. 

“Feels so good, Koo. Need you to fuck me always.”

He lets out a trenchant moan of your name. "I'm right here." He says, so lost in the moment you'd think he was about to cry if he wasn't pounding into you at a pace so inhumane. "I've always been right here." 

You decide to completely disregard his words, grabbing him by the neck and crashing your lips onto his. You need him to stop talking. You need him to shut up and fuck you like it means nothing. 

Your head is a mess, your heart isn't beating properly, a million different thoughts pass through your mind, and the way Jungkook is kissing you doesn't help at all. This isn't helping you unwind. Not even close. This is fucking with your head even further and you have no idea the kind of morning you will wake up to tomorrow. 

When you cum, it happens big and loud. You cry out his name, legs shaking and back arching off the couch. Jungkook fucks you through it, chasing his own high as you try holding yourself together through the overstimulation, because he fucks you until it hurts. 

"Where do you want me?" He asks, voice low and breathy. 

You sabotage yourself one last time— hopefully. "Inside, please. Fill me up, Jungkook." 

That seems to be the last straw. Jungkook groans loudly, then spills his seeds into you, making you feel so full. His head falls back as he thrusts into you a few more times. And before you can open your eyes, he collides onto you and the warmth of his body spreads until it concurs yours. 

Afterwards, the sound of your shared breaths and pants are the only indicators of life. His chest stays pressed against yours, breath hot in your ear, sweat trilling down both your bodies and mixing into each other. 

The silence feels painful, because you have never experienced it with Jungkook before. There had never once been a moment where you didn't know what to say or what to do when it came to him. Turns out, there is a first for everything. Because each word, each sentence you construct in different parts of your brain dies down before you can even think about feeling them on your tongue. 

Your breathing gradually settles, but your heartbeat doesn't. You stare at the ceiling over his shoulder, because there is absolutely no way you can look into his eyes right now. 

You clear your throat first. "Well…"

Jungkook lets out something between a breath and a laugh. "Yeah." 

"I think," You begin carefully. "That definitely counts as unwinding.",

His lips twitch despite himself, then lifts his body slowly off yours. "I deserve a thank you gift, then." 

You scoff. "I'm not gonna suck your dick, Jungkook." 

He laughs loudly, reaching for his boxers. "You said it, not me." 

A smile lingers on your lips, because for a moment, everything feels normal. The sound of his laugh, the look on his face, the words on his tongue…For a moment, you feel like none of it really happened. Until you look down at your naked body and realize you're desperately in need of covering up. 

Jungkook hands you his shirt as if he just read your mind, and you give him a tight lipped smile before sliding it on. "We're…" You start, but your voice trails off.

Jungkook's eyes soften. "We're okay." 

But are you really? Because in all honesty, you don't really know what okay feels like anymore. Just five hours ago, Jungkook was your best friend. Now, he's still your best friend. Except you've crossed a line that's now completely blurred. Somewhere between his touch and your heartbeat and all the things he whispered pretending they don't matter, everything started to feel too heavy you're not sure you can continue carrying it all without letting it mean something.

And the problem is so much bigger than Jungkook. You know you love that man. You love him so much your chest aches. Maybe not in the way he so desperately wishes you do, but there is no doubt you'd get there in no time if you gave it a try. So if tonight costs you your best friend, you'll never forgive yourself.

The bigger problem is that, there is still a part of you that belongs to the two years you spent loving Jongin. It's impossible to erase two whole years just because one conversation went wrong and the following days were managed terribly.

"I don't regret it, i want you to know that."

He exhales slowly. "I know."

"I just…" You search for the right words, but it feels as though they don't exist. "Everything's a mess, i don't know where to go from here." You close your eyes for a brief second, trying to recollect your heartbeat.

"It's only been a few days, and we're not even…officially…" Your voice trails off, because you can not bring yourself to finish the sentence. Because if you say the words out loud, it will feel even more real than it already does.

Jungkook stares at the floor, eyes still stuck there as he starts speaking. "You don't owe me anything."

Your head snaps towards him. "What?"

"This didn't happen because i pity you or something. I don't want you to think that. I know exactly why it happened and however you want to go about this is fine with me."

Your brows pull together. "Why then?"

Jungkook smiles gently, sitting down next to you. "Are you sure you want to hear it right now?" He says, catching your eyes in his.

You nibble at your bottom lip, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes at the silent confirmation he gives you. No, you don't want to hear it right now. What you feel is already way too much and hearing him say it out loud will break you thoroughly if it didn't already.

"I don't want to lose you." You manage to mutter out, voice quiet, the words breaking around the edges.

He offers you another smile, pulling you into his chest. "You won't."

You want to believe him. You want to believe him so fucking bad but it feels like you've already lost parts of him you can never reach again.

And Jungkook knows that. He swears he's in full knowledge of every thought flashing across your mind right now and he can do nothing about it besides comforting you that everything will be okay.

He could tell you. He could finally say the three words that have spent three years trapped inside the dearest corners of his heart. He could tell you that this impulsive mistake wasn't born from a few bottles of beer and a broken heart. He could tell you he'd loved you long before tonight.

But instead, he swallows every word and tucks them right back into where he has kept them locked all this time. He loves you too much to become another lump in your throat, another weight for you to carry. If pretending this means less to him than it does will let oxygen pass easier through your lungs, then he'll pretend.

He has loved you long enough to know he shouldn't be selfish tonight.

And he will continue loving you. Quietly, like he has done all this time. And whenever you let him, if you ever do, he will love you so loudly you'll never be in this position again.

He will lock this memory somewhere safe and offer you the keys whenever you're ready. Until then, he will keep replaying parts of it late at night wishing every form of sorry known to mankind on his heart.

[jungkakes]

I Got Ways - Pt 2 | Jeongguk x Reader [18+]

Chapter 2: The Ghost and His Shadow.

Pairing: ex boyfriend jeongguk x female reader

Warnings: sex with your ex, established relationship, mafia jeongguk if you squint really hard, guns, drinking, vaping, oral - male receiving, creampie, unprotected sex, dirty talk kind of, consensual rough sex, cock warming, possessive jeongguk, controlling jeongguk, toxic relationships, slight aftercare, pillow talk, once again me telling reader to stop playing with this man and just give in

Word count: 19,717

Summary: Three weeks of radio silence since you last saw Jeongguk. Who cracks first?

Cross posted on AO3

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Other work: Make Me Water - JiKook x Reader

I Got Ways - Part 1

***Ask and you shall receive. This is part 2 for those who asked. The final part. It was all over the place but again, my writing style is just being a mess. I'm sorry. Also, if you're a John Wick fan, I hope you notice some of the references I used in this. If not, don't worry. I'm just an idiot. Thank you for reading! Enjoy! Muah.***

Inspired by:

Three Weeks. 

Three fucking weeks. 21 days. 

Not that you were counting. Okay, you absolutely were.

It had been three weeks since you last saw Jeongguk. Three weeks since you answered one of his texts with more than a single word. Three weeks since that night you were in his apartment. Three weeks since you looked him dead in the eye and told him that wanting you back wasn't the same as knowing how to keep you. Three weeks since you let him ravage you right on the middle of his couch. 

Three weeks since he followed you on his bike into the night. 

And for once? Jeongguk listened. He didn’t call your phone a hundred times in a row knowing you would never answer. Didn’t randomly show up to your apartment or workplace. No late night messages that somehow always arrived exactly when you were thinking about him.

The silence should have felt peaceful. Instead, it felt wrong. Your mind felt like a city during a power outage. Quiet. Empty. And way too fucking noticeable. Which was exactly why you found yourself standing outside a bar called The 7 Devils at 11:30 on a Friday night. Alone.

The lights on the fading signage flickered and winked at you overhead. It didn’t look like trouble at first glance. That was deliberate. Half the letters were burnt out. The 7 glowed brighter than the rest of the words like a warning. The building itself sat wedged between abandoned businesses. It was the only place on the strip that still had patrons. 

To the rest of the city, it was just an exclusive bar that managed to stay open for God knows what reason. But to the people who knew better, it was a front for the mysterious Haegeum Network.

Haegeum meaning breaking rules. Haegeum meaning lifting bans. Haegeum meaning an empire built on the idea that laws only mattered if you were weak enough to follow them.

The place was built with black stone exterior. Polished like it had been carved from something expensive. Warm purple lights spilled through floor to ceiling glass. Soft enough to feel inviting. Controlled enough to feel intentional. No music bleeding into the street. No obvious warnings. Simply quiet luxury.

The kind of quiet luxury that only existed when someone powerful decided it should because everyone in the city knew what The 7 Devils really was.

Nothing about The Haegeum Network was ever obvious. Official records listed the entity as a private hospitality venture. Some vague investment under half a dozen shell companies that changed names whenever scrutiny got too close.

However, no one who mattered believed that version. The Haegeum Network didn’t announce ownership. They demonstrated it. In places like this. In the way the entire city seemed to subtly rearrange itself around that name without ever saying it out loud.

And Jeongguk was always there. Not publicly or predictably. And never officially confirmed. Yet often enough that pretending it was coincidence would have been insulting.

There were patterns people noticed if they paid attention. And Jeongguk had a way of appearing wherever Haegeum Network’s influence ran deepest. He didn’t just move through their world… He belonged to it.

You didn’t let yourself linger on that thought though. Not tonight because somewhere inside The 7 Devils, Jeon Jeongguk was sitting at the center of it all. And Jeongguk was the person you were here to see. 

You adjusted the hem of your dress that barely covered your ass and stared at the entrance. The bouncer by the door recognized you instantly. His eyes widening just slightly not because you were new here. You had been here far too many times to be unrecognizable. You used to show up to the doors of this bar hanging off Jeongguk’s arm too many times to count. You were a loved and welcomed name in this bar. And then… you disappeared. Poof! Out of thin air. 

You failed to realize the bouncer was staring you down in shock not because he didn’t recognize you but more because you were actually fucking alive and not dead in an umarked grave like the rest of the bar workers thought. 

See, the workers at 7 Devils had witnessed many women come and go from this place but you were their favourite. You were nicer than some of the bitches that walked into this joint. Unsuspecting. Innocent. You didn’t stick your nose up into the air and act like you owned the place because a rich boss put a diamond watch on your wrist. Nah. You had class. 

Everyone at The 7 Devils adored you for that. You remembered names. Asked the bartenders how their families were. Brought food for the staff just because. Thanked the bouncers every time they opened the door, even though they would straighten up the second they saw you.

You smiled at everyone like they were worth knowing. 

When customers whispered about Jeongguk, you would roll your eyes and say, "He's not that scary."  When people warned you he was dangerous, you would laugh and say, "He's sweet once you get to know him." When people referred to him by the nickname he went by within the walls of this bar, you would simply shake your head and correct them, “It’s Jeongguk!” 

The entire bar would go silent and look at you as if you had three fucking heads because maybe Jeongguk was only not that bad or sweet to you. Nobody got the version of Jeongguk that kissed your waist and eased your mind. Or the Jungkook that carried your heels when your feet hurt. Or sat through three hours of watching some boring ass chick flick without complaining. 

Everyone working for The Haegeum Network got short answers from him instead. Sly remarks. Or simply no words at all. Only side eyes sharp enough to cut a man without a knife. And a quick tongue that was always ready to quip back insults. But he wasn’t that way with you. Never you. You saw the best in people. Especially Jeongguk. And everyone hated that they loved you for it because in a place built on secrets and violence, you were painfully ordinary. Down to earth. Good.

The kind of person who rescued a stray cat in the alley one night and cried until someone found a vet. The kind of person who would forgive a man before he even apologized. The kind of person who loved Jeon Jeongguk without ever asking what he did to deserve the fear in everyone's eyes.

And maybe that was your greatest strength. 

Or maybe it was always going to be your downfall.

You wore the title of being Jeongguk’s woman with pride. And loyal to a fault, too. The kind of loyal that made people ache. Like a damn dog. And to be frank, you were also sexier than the mob wives there that pumped their faces and tits full of silicone and stuck their french tipped manicures in bartenders faces demanding more of the white shit they stuck up their noses. More dirty martinis. More, more, more. 

You weren’t ungrateful to be in the space you were in. Nor where you snooty about the lifestyle Jeongguk gave you. You were real. Even though you had no idea just exactly who Jeon Jeongguk truly was. 

You never asked Jeongguk what he did for The Haegeum Network. Not really. You asked the easy questions. Long day? You eating properly? Why do you smell like smoke? 

And Jeongguk always had a good enough answer. Meetings. Business. A fight broke out at the bar. Someone owed money. Good enough for you anyways since you accepted every excuse he gave you because… well, it was Jeon Jeongguk. The man who kissed your forehead before you went to sleep. Who tucked you against his chest when thunderstorms kept you awake. Who bought your favourite snacks without asking and pretended he didn't know what you liked by heart.

You looked at him and saw gentleness. Commitment. Sheer will. A man who loved so fiercely it bordered on obsession. You never stopped to ask yourself what kind of person survived inside The Haegeum Network while keeping his hands clean. 

Maybe you didn't want to know. Maybe you created a facade for him in your head on your own. One that was safer than accepting the reality of who he truly was. He was a bouncer? The muscles in the bar that threw out rowdy patrons when things got too crazy? Those measly suggestions didn’t make sense because there were signs Jeongguk was more than just that. 

You knew there was always something different about him. Dark. Brooding. Menacing. 

There was also the fact that nobody ever touched you too. Not once. Not in bars. Not on the street. Not even after your breakup either. You thought it was respect. Thought people remembered you were Jeongguk's ex and didn't want trouble. You never considered they might just be afraid. 

You remembered one night asking him why everyone looked so nervous around him. He simply laughed then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and said, "Cuz’ I’m just such a nice guy."

There was not a single fucking hint of truth in his voice but God, did you believe him anyways. You believed everything he said. You naive little shit. 

You never noticed the blood under his nails because he washed his hands before touching you. Never questioned why his clothes disappeared into the laundry basket before dawn. Never wondered why he kept that one room in his apartment locked away and never took you near it.

He shielded you from every ugly part of himself and you let him because loving Jeongguk was easy. Understanding him? That would have broken your heart. So instead, you loved him in pieces. In the soft smiles. The sleepy eyes. The tattooed hands that held your face like you were something precious. 

You ignored the silences. Ignored the violence simmering beneath his skin. Ignored the fact that people in organizations like Haegeum didn't rise because they were charming. They rose because they were feared. And Jeon Jeongguk… your Jeongguk was feared by everyone.

Everyone except you.

Sometimes you wonder if he hated that. Or if he loved you more for it.

Even now while standing outside The 7 Devils, staring at the door he disappeared behind night after night the thought didn’t cross your mind. Not once. Instead, you were standing there wondering if he finally moved on. If he'll ignore you when he sees you. Or if he'll look at your dress and regret letting you slip out of his hold once again. 

It never occurred to you that the man on the other side of those doors has taken lives. 

That there are people in this city who pray never to hear his name. 

That when he followed your cab for those few minutes three weeks ago on his bike with his helmet hiding his face. Silent and deadly. Engine revving in warning for anyone that could have been following. He wasn't making sure you got home. He was making sure nobody else touched you.

The worst part of it all was that if you knew the truth, you probably wouldn’t stop loving him.

Not even if you tried. 

The bartender had his eyes glued to your face in surprise because the longstanding gossip amongst the workers at the bar was that The Baba Yaga had orders to take you out. But who was the boogeyman? Nobody fucking knew. Or wanted to know either. The Baba Yaga wasn’t Jeongguk. That’s for sure. And unfortunately for the eyes and ears working at 7 Devils, Jeongguk was worse than the boogeyman. Far worse. 

Jeongguk was The Ghost. They called him Gwishin. 

The one you sent to kill the fucking boogeyman.

He wasn’t nicknamed Gwishin because nobody had ever seen him. Everyone had. And everyone looked the other way when that brooding shadow made its presence too. 

He didn’t earn that name because he was handsome either. Even though the Gwishin was tall. Broad shouldered. With black hair falling into dark eyes that never seem surprised. Piercings lining a mouth that was usually set in a straight line. Attractive. Terrifying. 

They called him Gwishin because nobody knew when he would appear or disappear. 

One moment he could be sitting in the corner booth of The 7 Devils. Lazily spinning a lighter between tattooed fingers and the next he was gone. No goodbye. No explanation. Just an empty seat and uneasy silence. 

People lowered their voices when they said his name. Not because he demanded it but because fear did that to people. And then there were the rumors too. That he never misses. That he once crossed three cities in a single night for a job. That men have begged for mercy and only gotten a blank stare in return. That he took out three men in a bar with a pencil. A single fucking pencil. 

Nobody knew what was true. Nobody asked. Except you. And even then, you always asked the wrong fucking questions anyways. And Jeongguk never answered them truthfully, of course. Instead, he would just pull you closer. Press his nose into your hair. And act as if he held you tight enough, you would never learn why the rest of the city feared him. 

And time after time, you let him because to everyone else, he's Gwishin. The Ghost. The monster Haegeum unleashed when they needed problems to disappear. But to you he was just Jeongguk. Maybe that's why everyone at The 7 Devils looked at you with pity because they knew something you didn’t.

Ghosts weren't meant to be loved.

Yet somehow… Gwishin had been haunting only you.

That’s why the bouncer was slackjawed and round eyed at the sight of you. Everyone thought you too had become just another figure that passed through the club. Everyone figured you eventually said the wrong thing or saw too much. They thought you became too much of a liability or a curse and for that, the Haegeum had to eliminate one of their most beloved yet unsuspecting members. 

And yes, you were an unofficial member of The Haegeum Network because the sad reality was, once you had crossed the entrance of the doors to the 7 Devils with Jeongguk all those years ago, you too had become a part of their syndicate. Whether you wanted to be or not. Whether you knew it or not. 

As for tonight? You didn't come dressed like this for a drink, baby. You came dressed for revenge. You came dressed to scare the Gwishin himself. To show the ghost you were alive and well after 21 days of silence. To show him that you could play his little games too. That you could stand on the edge of his world and bring him to his fucking knees without even stepping into his orbit. 

The black dress you wore hugged every curve like it had been sewn onto your body. And it was short. So fucking short that all you had to do was bend slightly for it to show off the lacey red thong stuck between your plush ass cheeks. So short that every time you moved, smooth skin glistened whenever the gentle summer breeze caught the fabric. 

Your heels were so damn high too. Shiny black red bottoms that Jeongguk had picked out just for you a few years ago. They were already hurting the soles of your feet but that was the point because if you played Jeongguk’s twisted game right, you would have them in his back by the end of the night. 

Pain was temporary but the look on Jeongguk's face when he saw you? Priceless.

You spent an hour on your makeup. Two deciding on the dress. And every second afterward telling yourself this wasn't pathetic. You didn’t miss him. You don't want him. You were just trying to prove some fucked up point you created in your head. 

And you definitely weren’t thinking about the way he was on top of you three weeks ago. You weren’t remembering his chin buried deep into the crook of your neck that night. Lips at your ear. Teeth dragging over your skin. Rough hands gripping around your body while he whispered, “This pussy is mine.” 

You didn’t miss his smile either. Or those tattoos. Or the stupid habit he had of rolling his shirt sleeves to his elbows because he knew exactly what it did to you. 

You kept telling yourself didn’t miss him. You couldn’t

So why were you standing frozen outside his bar?

You could feel the vibration of music through the walls. Making your core thump all the way down to the heartbeat throbbing between your thighs already. You could practically feel him in there. The thought of him just sitting at his regular booth. Expression settled in his signature unamused slate. Eyes sharp and focused. It made your spine tingle with a desire far worse than just simple horniness. 

"Nice to see you again. You going in?" The bouncer asked and you looked up at the glowing sign again. 7 fucking Devils. You used to walk through those doors like you belonged there. 

You smoothed your hands down your dress. This damn dress. The one that was tighter than anything you would normally wear. You wore it for him, of course. You hated that. Hated that after all this time of pretending you were fine, one night with Jeon Jeongguk could still dictate the clothes on your body.

You swallowed and lifted your chin. Then smiled at the bouncer as you nodded. You weren’t nervous. You were furious. If Jeongguk wanted to ignore you? Fine. If he wanted to pretend the two of you never happened? Perfect. You would gladly let him try.

You would walk in looking so good it would ruin his night. Let him choke on his whiskey. Let him stare. Let him remember exactly what he didn’t know how to keep. 

The doors to the 7 Devils loomed in front of you and the bouncer stepped aside. For just a second, his expression softened. As if he knew deep down you were dipping your pinky back into a pond that you once got out of. 

Either way you squared your shoulders and stepped forward. Tonight, you were not walking in like you belonged. Tonight you were walking in like a fucking threat.

Inside, 7 Devils was exactly what it always is. Leather booths in deep charcoal tones. Marble counters polished to a reflective sheen. Dim lighting that never quite reached the corners of the room. Music low and controlled. Expensive glassware. Expensive suits. Expensive silence between the things people don’t say out loud. 

Everything curated. Everything restrained. Everything just barely covering what sits underneath. Power. And the people who knew exactly how to use it.

Your steps slowed before you even realized it because you felt it already. You felt the way the atmosphere shifted as though the air had recalculated itself. You didn’t even have to look far. You already knew where he was. Back section. Corner booth. Same spot as always where sightlines are clean. Where exits are visible. Where nothing happens without him seeing it first. Jeongguk never sat anywhere that wasn’t mapped out in his head twice over.

You exhaled slowly, adjusting your dress as you stepped further inside. The bartenders don't greet you. They just watch because they know. Everyone knows. The second you walked through those doors in that dress. With your hair done, lips painted and a look on your face that screamed I don't give a fuck. Everyone knew exactly why you were here.

You were here to piss Jeongguk off. And for the first time in three weeks you were going to win. You didn't even look at him. Not once. You knew he was sitting there with his six other Haegeum members spread around him like a pack of wolves. Those annoying ass ghouls you used to think of as your friends. The entire crew. The entire fucking team of his hooligans as you liked to call them. 

Sliding into your usual stool at the bar, you refused to look in the direction of the Gwishin. You could feel his stare on you already. But you didn’t relent. Without a word, a glass appeared in front of you. You looked down at it and blinked, 

"I didn't order that." You said. 

"You never do." The bartender simply shrugged, already turning back to the shelves.

It was your usual. A Cape Codder. Expensive European vodka mixed with cranberry juice. Extra vodka. A slice of lemon. Not too much ice. Exactly how you liked it.

The bartender also set a bowl of pretzels beside your drink and he huffed out, "You lose weight?" He asked casually.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, "You just haven’t seen me in a while." Nodding, you picked up your drink and wrapped your lips around the straw sticking out of the top of it and took a sip. Deliberate. 

He grinned, “Thought you were–.” He made a motion across his neck as if a knife were cutting there, “You know.” 

“I’m alive and well.” You confirmed with a nod, popping a pretzel into your mouth and chewing. Not because you were hungry. You just need something else to do with your mouth because you could feel the gravity of your ex pulling you towards him. 

You weren't going to look. That was the whole point. You came here to ruin Jeongguk's night, not your own. Sadly, curiosity is cruel and your eyes flickered toward the booth in the back for half a second as if you couldn’t help yourself. And yes, there he was. Sitting there like a menace. Black buttoned shirt with the first few buttons left open to expose his tattooed chest. Sleeves rolled up to display a tattooed arm. One arm stretched lazily across the back of the booth. 

Interestingly enough, beside him was a woman. Blonde. Leaning a little too close.

Your stomach dropped and you quickly looked away. Absolutely not. You took a long sip out of your drink like you saw nothing. As if your heart didn't just stutter. As if you don't care. You're not giving him the satisfaction. Not when he's already staring. Not when the entire bar has noticed he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you walked in.

You let him sit there with his blonde. Let him wonder if you're jealous.

You would rather die before he saw the jealousy written on your face anyways. Even if the questions already began to burn in the back of your mind. Who the fuck is she? How do they know each other? Are they fucking? 

You didn’t even know if she's pretty. You didn’t even know what she was wearing. You didn’t know if she was touching him. You kept your head forward. Eyes on the bartender speaking because you were not giving that piece of shit the luxury anymore. 

If he wanted your attention, he can choke on not having it.

So, you kept your eyes trained on the expensive array of alcohol lining the shelves behind the bar. Even when the music seemed to dull. Even when conversations faltered. Even when you could practically feel his stare burning into the side of your face. You instead smiled at the bartender and laughed at his joke which wasn't even that funny.

All while pretending Jeon Jeongguk didn’t exist.

Meanwhile the clown hadn’t stopped staring since the moment you walked in. The blonde woman stopped existing to him thirty seconds ago. None of the other Haegeum members had touched their drinks. They were all waiting.

Waiting for you to look at him. Waiting for him to snap. Waiting for something. Waiting for some drama to unfold.

But you? You’re a G. You took another slow sip of your drink. Popped another pretzel between your lips. And smiled because for three weeks you were the girl who missed him. You were the girl watching your phone like a hawk to see if he would text you. You were the ex. Tonight… he got to be the ex. The one watching. The one waiting. The one wondering what the fuck you were doing here. 

And you hope it drove him fucking insane.

The blonde beside Jeongguk had been talking for the last five minutes. Maybe longer. He had no idea anymore. Jeongguk wasn’t listening. He was halfway through the dark whiskey in his glass. Pretending to care while the other six men of Haegeum at the table conversed around him like their voices weren’t just background noise in a life that stopped making sense three weeks ago.

Then someone laughed at something he didn’t hear and his eyes drifted like they always did. To you. Seated in that spot like nothing ever happened. As if you didn’t walk in here looking like you were planted on this earthly plane just to drive Jeongguk up the walls. As if you didn’t walk into the bar with the intention to carve his chest wide open, take his heart out and leave him breathing through it all.

He watched you over the rim of his glass. Black dress. Bare legs. Lips painted red. A drink already in front of you. Condensation sliding down the glass. You smiled at something the bartender said. A soft laugh followed. Easy. Natural. As though you belonged to that side of the room now. As though you didn’t belong to him anymore.

Jeongguk’s fingers tightened around his glass. The whiskey suddenly tasted like metal.

You hadn’t even looked at him. Not once. Not when you took your first sip of your drink. Not when you leaned in slightly to hear the bartender better. Not even when the room tilted the way it always did when Jeongguk was present and people started noticing who was paying attention to who.

You gave him absolutely nothing.

You just sat there. Calm. Distant. Sipping the red in your glass like you had never known the weight of Jeongguk’s hands on your waist. As if three weeks ago, you weren’t pulled apart and put back together by him right on his couch. 

The blonde said something again. His name, maybe. He didn’t respond. He actually wanted to tell her to shut up instead. At his right, one of his men glanced over and went quiet. The hooligans have seen this before. That stillness in Jeongguk. That focus. That problem.

Gwishin doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe right. He just watches because it’s you. It’s been weeks. Weeks since he last let himself touch you like it meant something instead of everything.

And of course, you pop back up into his life again oh so casually. In his bar. Drinking. Laughing. Acting like he was nothing but just another man in the room.

One of the Haegeum members leaned back, exhaling a low whistle, “Nice to see the 그림자 (shadow) is back.” He muttered. 

Another one smirked from across the table, “I missed seeing your shadow… She looks like trouble though.”

The nickname bounced off the thoughts in Jeongguk’s head. 그림자... Shadow.

Haegeum didn’t choose that name for you because you followed Gwishin. 

It was because he couldn’t escape you. 

You existed in every corner of his life.

In the properties he owned. In the music he listened to. In the habits he couldn’t break. In the silence he tried to keep for three weeks and failed.

The Ghost watched you like a man watching his own fate unfold. And in the pit of his soul, the nickname felt less like teasing. More truthful. You were his 그림자.

Not a burden. Not a weakness. But a presence. Always behind him. 

Everyone in Haegeum knew who you were to Gwishin. Except Jeongguk himself. He stomped that part of himself away because if the Ghost ever admitted he had a shadow, he would have to admit he was never walking alone at all.

You never knew they called you that. Not once. Not through the years. Not through the breakup because Haegeum never used real names when they spoke about people like you.

Everything was code. Everything was protocol. It made business easier that way. Cleaner. Safer. You only ever heard fragments of the nickname. You never realized the name had meant something else entirely. A label. A quiet agreement between men who had watched the Ghost lose control of himself over one single person too many times. 

His 그림자.

As if you were something The Haegeum Network couldn’t quite name in full light. Something that only existed properly when Jeongguk was in the room too.

Jeongguk didn’t answer the clowns sitting around him. They simply didn’t understand. You weren’t trouble. You were ruin. And you were sitting ten meters away from him like you didn’t remember how to destroy him. His grip on the glass tightened until it ached within his palm because he didn’t hate that you came. He hated that you were fine. Hated that he was the one falling apart in a room full of people who believed he was still in control.

Across the bar, you lifted your glass to your lips. Casual and composed. Almost as if nothing in the world has shifted since you walked through those doors. As if you aren’t aware Jeongguk’s watching. Then three soft strikes of your nails hit against the glass. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jeongguk felt it before he even fully processed it. It wasn't just sound. It was a pattern. His entire body froze and he felt as if something inside him had gone taut all at once. That rhythm wasn’t new. It wasn’t nerves. And it sure as hell wasn’t accidental. It was intentional.

Your fingers didn’t move away from the glass. They stayed there and your acrylics tapped over it again. Jeongguk already figured out what it was before anything else. It was a signal. Your signature. You weren’t doing it for yourself. You were doing it for him. 

He watched you take another sip of your drink like the room didn’t matter. Like time didn’t bend around attention the way it always has when he was near. You weren’t trying to be seen. You weren’t trying to be hidden. You were trying to be noticed. On purpose. By him. 

Each three tap sequence landed like a reminder carved into air. You don’t get to unsee me.

It wasn’t about reassurance. It was about permanence. You were not fading into the background of his life. You were refusing to. Those three taps said the same thing without you ever looking at him. I’m your shadow. And I always will be.

Jeongguk noticed movement before anyone spoke. A chair scraping back somewhere behind you. A presence moving through the room like it didn’t need permission to take up that amount of space.

You didn’t look up right away. That was the first mistake most people would make. You just swirled your drink unbothered. As if you already knew someone was coming. Then the shadow fell across your table. And he was fucking huge. Who the fuck hired him? 

The thing. Yes– thing because no man should be that ginormous… wasn’t just tall. He was built in a way that made the air around him feel smaller. Shoulders too wide for the tailored jacket he was wearing. Expression knifed out of something blank and uninviting. He was one of the lesser seen Haegeum Network members. Standing right beside you with the audacity of someone that sat at Jeongguk’s table. 

Conversations didn’t stop so much as they froze mid breath. Jeongguk didn’t move a single inch either. Yet his grip on the glass in his hand tightened further until it threatened to give. He watched the stranger say something low to you. Too quiet for anyone else to hear.

You finally looked up and for a second, there was nothing written on your face. No reaction. No fear. No hesitation. You assessed the man. Deciding what kind of moment this is going to be. Then slowly, you tilted your head and smiled.

You responded and said a few words to the thing. Light enough to pass as casual conversation. Strong enough to keep him there. The man didn’t leave. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat. The wood groaned slightly under his weight. And just like that, he took up your space like he belonged there. 

He ordered you another drink. Slapped a big bill on the table for the bartender and exchanged the tip over to him for the glass of red liquid. He poked a straw into the glass for you and placed it down in front of you. Watching you sip it. How gentlemanly. 

You didn’t look uncomfortable. You didn’t even look threatened. You looked… engaged. Choosing to entertain him. Curious about what happened next. The man said something again. A faint smirk playing on his lips now. Barely there, but enough. 

And then you laughed. A real one. 

Not the fake shit you would pull when you wanted out of a conversation. 

Jeongguk’s head fucking spinned at the sound. 

The giant goblin was close enough that the edge of his knee almost brushed the table leg. Close enough that the air between you got heavier without anything being said yet. His eyes didn’t leave your face and then he said, loud enough for the entire bar to hear,  

“You come here often?” He mused, eyes drifting over your dress as if he was trying to map you out.

Typical. You thought to yourself but a faint smile crossed your lips anyhow and you swirled the straw around in your drink before replying, “Depends on the night.” 

“And what kind of night is this one?” A knowing smile touched his lips as though he had just found a rhythm. 

You finally look at the man directly, “Why?” You questioned.

The words were simple but it stopped him for half a second. Then he leaned in slightly, voice dropping, “Cuz I’m deciding if I should stay.”

The implication hung there. Bold and unhidden. A few nearby conversations died off without anyone admitting they were listening. People sitting at tables close by turned away as if they were interrupting something. The bartender kept wiping the same spot on the table that he had been wiping since the man sat down. 

You didn’t react immediately. Instead, you took your glass within your hand and sipped. Then set it down carefully as if you were buying time, “You’re already staying.” You purr out quietly. 

The tone of your voice shifted something in his expression. Not surprise exactly. More like interest sharpening into something more deliberate, “Oh?” He questioned. Now fully engaged. Just as you wanted. Leaning in a little more towards you. An elbow on the edge of the table as he looked you over, “You always this confident with strangers?”

You tilted your head slightly and shrugged, “I don’t usually bother with strangers.” You drawled out and then your voice dropped an octave, “But you didn’t introduce yourself like you’re a stranger.”

It wasn’t him testing you anymore. It was you acknowledging him. The man’s gaze darkened slightly as if he found something about you he liked, “I didn’t think I needed to.” He hummed out. 

Your fingers rested lightly against the glass again, “You usually get what you want just by sitting down?”

He simply huffed out a quiet laugh, “Usually.”

“Interesting.” You nodded, eyes drifting with intrigue from his chiseled face down towards his lap. The look wasn’t praise or dismissal. It was evaluation.

That’s what hooks the man harder than anything else. You weren’t yielding. You were measuring.

In the same room, Jeongguk’s entire body went still. Every instinct in him screaming at once. He didn’t move. Although he wasn’t restrained or anything. Jeongguk’s never been restrained in his life but something about the scene in front of him had locked every instinct in place and turned it inward.

The way you were speaking. The way you were not pulling away. The way you were letting this man get closer in conversation without ever giving him certainty. 

The man leaned back slightly. Eyes still locked on you like there was something troubling about you that he doesn’t want to let go of yet, “You always this hard to read?” He tuts. 

A small smile caressed your lips and you leaned over the bar’s counter. Letting your cleavage push up against the wooden edge of it, “No.” You breathed out and then paused before continuing, “Maybe I’m just like that with people who think they already understand me.”

The man didn’t ease back into conversation after that. He watched you differently now. He wasn’t a man testing a boundary. He was one that was deciding whether he found something worth taking seriously. He let the silence sit for a moment before he spoke again, quieter this time, “You wanna get out of here?”

His suggestion felt like a direct line drawn across the table. You didn’t react immediately. You just looked at him and weighed the distance, timing and consequence. You take the room itself as part of the equation. Well not so much the room but more so the person in the room burning holes into the side of your face with fury. 

You tilted your head slightly as if you had to think about it. You had already made your decision the moment he sat down anyways, “Okay.” You hum out with a smile, already grabbing your clutch off the bar’s tabletop. 

There was no hesitation. The man’s expression twinkled briefly as though he expected more resistance or negotiation. But you were already standing. Already smoothing your dress out like nothing about this moment was heavy at all. As if you didn’t just turn the entire room into a held breath.

Jeongguk simply watched you pass between tables. Through light. Through sound. Through the exact space where he had been watching you all night without being seen in return. You still didn’t look at him. Not even accidentally. Not even a glance. That absence punches him right in the gut. 

Jeongguk didn’t move for a full second after the door closed behind you and the man. It was like his body needed time to catch up to what his eyes already recorded. He couldn’t decide what reaction would even mean anything anymore.

Something about the way you walked away fractured something in Jeongguk anyway. He didn’t say a single word. Then his glass hit the table too hard. Ice jumped. A few heads turned. He didn’t give a fuck. All he saw was the empty space where you were sitting. The space you occupied still holding your shape in his head like a burn imprint. Still warm. 

His jaw flexed hard enough to crack a tooth and then he looked away. He could feel the vein in his neck thumping as his heart rate surged. Lips pressed together as his tongue poked into the side of his cheek when he tilted his head. Then he spotted you through the glass wall outside.

You were standing outside on the sidewalk with the man beside you. Your hand tiny on the curve of his bicep. Fingers wrapped barely around his humongous arm. He was already too close to you for Jeongguk’s liking but clearly not for yours. Then his hand settled against your back and slid lower. Possessive in a way that wasn’t subtle, even from outside the bar. Then he was guiding you forward. A large palm sliding down south. Over your ass. And then he grabbed it. Squeezing over your flesh as if he owned you. 

Jeongguk’s vision went blood red. 

And you? You didn’t even react. Not even slightly. No flinch. No shift away. No hesitation in your stride. You just started walking like it was normal. As if it meant nothing. As though your body hadn’t just accepted proximity from someone who isn’t Gwishin.

Jeongguk wasn’t used to being absent in a room where you were.

And right now he had never felt more invisible in his life.

The fury bubbling through his veins made his vision sharpen. It doesn’t go blurry. It becomes focused instead. Too focused. Like the killer he was. He watched the hand glued to your ass as you both cross the sidewalk, disappearing deeper into the night outside The 7 Devils.

He could feel the moment he snaps and that’s when he made the decision to follow you. His chair scraped back hard with a violence that finally matched what was building inside him when he stood up. 

One of his men called after him, but it didn't register because Jeongguk’s mind had already strayed too far away to care. No one else dared to say a word. He didn’t look at anyone. Not at his hooligans. Not even at the blonde. His eyes were already on the door.

Already calculating the radius. Already locked onto the fact that you were still in the same world as him, just merely out of sight.

He turned on his heels and headed towards the back of the bar at once. Quick steps. Then faster. Out through the back doors of the bar with one hard swing at the door and into the spill of the night air. 

It wasn’t the fact that you left which led Jeongguk to this decision. It was the fact that you didn’t leave with him. You left like he was never part of the decision at all and that is what makes him furious. The control was never in his hands from the moment you stepped through the door. It made Jeongguk’s blood boil. 

The crisp night air kissed Jeongguk on the cheeks as he made his way down the dimly lit sidewalks outside. Nothing about the cold air on his skin awakened him though. He had been on high alert the moment you graced him with your presence at the bar. He walked slowly in the direction you left in. Sauntering. Footsteps silent on pavement. Cigarette between pierced lips. Lighter flickering at the end. Inhaling deep and puffing slow. Taking his time because following after you now was about making sure you knew that you don’t get to disappear from him without being seen doing it.

Jeongguk stopped for half a second just enough to see the vision playing behind his eyes clearly. To confirm what his mind already refused to soften. That’s when his decision settled into place not as emotion, but as identity. He thought about the glock tucked into the belt on the back of his pants. Thought about what the man with his hand on your ass would look like on his knees in front of him begging for mercy. It was an enticing vision to say the least. 

He decided against putting a cap in the man’s head for now. His aim was impeccable and he had a clean shot. He could do it right from where he stood. But where would be the fun in that? Jeongguk was eager to see how this played out and he continued moving. Like the Gwishin he was. 

That’s what he became now. A ghost. Silent. Unseen. Moving through the space between you and everything you thought was safe. He was trailing behind you both. You walked slow enough with the man as if you knew the Ghost was following too. Yet you didn’t dare to look back.

The man stayed beside you the whole time, hand still on your ass. There was no resistance from you. No glance over your shoulder. No sign that anything about this walk felt unfamiliar. Jeongguk’s teeth clenched in his jaw because you were not being taken anywhere. Nothing about this was against your will. 

You were going. On your own feet. On your own terms.

The Ghost didn’t stop you. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t reveal himself. Not yet anyways. Instead, he changed the distance. Let it widen. Let you disappear around corners for a few seconds at a time. Long enough that anyone else would lose you. Long enough that he almost should but he doesn’t because he knows you.

Eventually the man’s hand slipped from your back as you turned down a quieter street closer to your apartment. You just kept walking until you were swallowed by the building line and darkness.

Jeongguk slowed. Stopped. He was no longer following movement. Only memory. A direction. The direction to your apartment. He waited for a full minute. Then turned the other way. Not backtracking. Not searching blindly. Choosing. 

This wasn’t about chasing. It was about confirmation. Moments earlier, he would have called it instinct. Now it felt like something far worse. 

This is what she wants to do, huh? 

She wants to fuck another man because I didn’t call her three weeks ago? 

Is this what it was? 

The thoughts infiltrated his brain as he fumed but he kept walking until he reached your building later than he should have. Later on purpose because if you truly were in there letting another man plow his dick into you, Jeongguk wanted to catch it at the perfect time. 

There was no urgency in his steps. No noise. Just that looming presence that always meant he had already decided what kind of ending this will have because Gwishin did not lose sight of what he chooses to belong in his world.

The lobby guard at your apartment building gave him a familiar nod. Jeongguk had been here too many times for anyone to question him. He walked up seven flights of stairs. Two at a time. Every floor made his pulse climb higher. By the time he reached your door, he was breathing harder than he should have been. His hand hovered near the doorknob out of habit before he remembered. Right.

He still had the key to your place. You had never asked for it back. Maybe because you forgot. Maybe because neither of you really believed things were over. That thought twisted in his chest as he pulled the key out of his pocket and slid it into the lock.

The apartment was dark except for the kitchen light. Jeongguk stepped inside quietly, shutting the door behind him. He took his shoes off silently by the door and listened. Pin drop silence. No voices. No moaning. No skin slapping. Sharp eyes swept across the dark living room automatically. 

Your keys, phone and clutch were on the coffee table. 

No sign of another man.

Relief hit him so fast it almost made him angry. 

He turned the corner towards the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks because there you were. Sitting on top of the marble counter. Vape at your lips. Six inch red bottoms still on your feet. Legs swinging absentmindedly as if you didn’t just lead Jeongguk right into your trap, 

"Breaking and entering now?" Your tone was sweet but the meaning underneath was sharp, “That’s new.” You glanced down beside you, hand reaching without urgency. When you brought it back up, there was a can of pepper spray resting loosely in your grip. Held like you were deciding whether it was even worth the effort. You studied the can for a second and then your gaze landed on Jeongguk, “I should call the police, you know.” You added, almost conversational.

His eyes dropped briefly to the pepper spray and then he scoffed under his breath. The breath coming out through his nose. It would take him half a second to cross over to where you were sitting and even faster to rip that can out of your hands and crush it between his fingers. Don’t kid yourself, 

“That would be unwise I assure you.” Jeongguk spat out. It wasn't a question. His chest was still tight with adrenaline, "I thought that giant fuck was here." He finally admitted. Eyes scanning the apartment anyhow just to make sure the bastard wasn’t hiding behind a door.

Your lips parted slightly before curving into a smile. Not mocking. Not exactly kind either, "Jealousy is such an ugly disease, Jeongguk." You purred out, “And it's even uglier on you.” 

Jeongguk’s eyes didn’t wander. They didn’t flicker. They stayed locked on you like everything else in the apartment had already been dismissed as irrelevant. His gaze was dark with focus. In a way that recognition sharpened into something dangerous when it stopped trying to hide itself.

There was no shock in him anymore. No confusion. Instead, there was a steady, narrowing attention as if he had finally stopped reacting to the situation and started reading it.

He exhaled once through his nose but the air between you both tightened anyway, “You talk a lot about jealousy.” He said quietly but his eyes didn't leave yours, “But you’re not reacting like someone trying to push me away.” He watched you as though he was trying to understand what you were doing to him. The way you sat there like you already knew how this moment ended. His gaze darkened further as it held onto you, “You think this is jealousy?” 

There was something in your eyes that wasn’t there before. Excitement. You tilted your head just a fraction, like you were considering him the same way you considered everything else tonight, “I don’t think.” You answered him simply, “I observe.”

Your words were accurate enough to be uncomfortable. It was almost insulting.

He huffed out a disgusted scoff and shook his head, "You left with him on purpose."

"And you came to my apartment on purpose." You retorted. 

Touché.

Jeongguk had nothing to say instead, his eyes flickered back to yours that were transfixed on him. His gaze dragged over you once. Slowly. Eyes on the short hem of your dress. The tone of your skin. Thick eyeliner over your eyes making you look deadly in the best way possible. The memory of things he didn’t want to admit he never forgot played in his mind and then Jeongguk shook his head. Eyes settling back on your face. 

Tilting your head slightly the opposite way, you answered his question without him needing to ask, "He walked me home."

Jeongguk looked away for a second and his jaw tightened, "So you didn’t fuck him."

"No." You crossed your arms loosely over your chest, "You really thought I'd bring some random dickwad over here?" You scoffed, “Love how low you think of me.” 

"I didn't know what to think." Jeongguk snapped. 

"Mmm. You showing up here like this says enough, don’t you?" Your gaze dropped briefly to the key still in his hand, "Give me that."

Jeongguk blinked, "What?"

“The key.” You studied him for a moment longer than before. Really looked at him now. Your gaze dragged over him in a way that wasn’t rushed. 

The black shirt fit him too well. Opened at the collar. Sleeves pushed just slightly out of place. The tattoos on his fingers and wrist caught the light when he moved. Your eyes lingered over the smooth of his chest then continued to the silver chain around his neck. The way it disappeared under fabric like it was hiding from you. His hair was pushed back. Gelled. Controlled. Just like everything else about him that pretended nothing ever touched him unless he allowed it.

Your stare came back up slowly. On his jaw. His mouth. His eyes. Then your voice rang out again, “I want it back.”

Jeongguk didn’t move, “You don’t need it back.” 

“That wasn’t a suggestion, asshole.” You snarked, “I don’t want you having access to my space.” You add quietly, “Not anymore.”

Jeongguk stared at you for a long moment and something in the look of his eyes changed. There was no more anger. Or pride. In his eyes were a loss that he held too tightly to show, “You mean the space I paid off for you to live bill free in?” He then added with a cocky grin, his gaze refusing to leave yours, “I get it.” He hummed after a moment, “You need to prove something to me. The effort is kinda cute not gonna lie.” He made a tch sound with his lips and had his eyes glued onto your own as he carefully tucked the key right back into his pocket in front of you. 

Like hell he was giving that key back to you. 

You didn’t even try to fight for it either. Instead, you just stared at him with a scowl. Neither of you looked away. The space between you both felt even more dangerous now that the door was locked and you were both inside the four walls of your apartment. 

You didn’t move from the counter. Didn’t soften your posture. The empty silence between you felt too full now. Locked and loaded with everything neither of you said out loud before this moment.

Your fingers around the pepper spray can in your hand loosened and then you placed it back down onto the counter. Then you spoke, “Three weeks.” You tilted your head, eyes steady on him, “Since I last heard from you. No calls. No texts.” You smiled, “Did you finally give up on being crazy?” 

The words sat sharp between you both, like something you had been holding onto long enough to stop it from feeling like a question. 

Jeongguk didn’t interrupt. He didn’t even try to defend himself. He just watched you. Trying to figure out in his head which version of this conversation you were going to let him have.

“And then you show up like this.” Your gaze doesn’t move from his face, “You don’t talk to me for three fucking weeks,” A humorless laugh begins to bubble in your throat, “And now you break into my home and act like I did something wrong?”

Jeongguk didn’t speak right away because there wasn’t an easy answer in the room. Not one that didn’t cost him something. And you were watching him for it. Not breaking eye contact. Not giving him space to deflect. Not chasing him. You were making him stand in what he chose.

“Why did you go there?” His eyes didn’t leave your face, “You don’t just show up to The Seven Devils for nothing.” He paused, “And you sure as shit don’t sit in front of men like that unless you want something to happen.” He pointed at your dress. 

A smile twitched at the corner of your mouth and you simply wet your lips then placed them at the end of your vape and sucked. Smokey eyes drilling into Jeongguk’s existence and making the tension in his chest flare. You exhaled the smoke through your nose and took a breath, “I just wanted a drink. Don’t get it twisted.” Lies. All lies. You knew exactly why you went there. 

Jeongguk’s voice dropped lower when realization hit him, “Was it just to piss me off?” He exhaled once, “I didn’t talk to you for three weeks…” He said in a low voice, “Because I knew what would happen if I did.” Cherry red lips started to stretch into a menacing smile, “I knew you would crack.” 

You matched his smile as your voice came out calmly, “Did I crack?” You heaved a breath. Making yourself sound bored as you leaned back on your hands, “Or was it you?” Your gaze drifted to Jeongguk’s jaw just as it clenched and you belted out a soft laugh, “You followed me.” You nodded, “You came here.” One leg lifted slightly and you purposely crossed it over the other. Watching the way Jeongguk’s eyes darted towards the middle of your thighs just as your panties flashed him, “So tell me,” You murmured, “Who cracked first?”

The silence after your question didn’t hang in one place for long. It tightened around Jeongguk’s neck like a noose. 

His eyes stayed on you when he started moving. Crossing over to where you sat on top of the counter in one fluid move. The anger radiating off him with imaginary steam. You fought to stay composed. Fingers gripping the edge of the counter as he stopped right at the edge of the counter’s reach. He was close enough that you felt his presence more than you could hear it. Close enough that the air between you changed temperature. Becoming heated. Charged with electricity. 

You just watched him crowd over you like a predator closing in on its prey. Two large palms landed on either side of you hard against the marble countertop. Pressing flat against it as he stood in front of you. He leaned down. Invading your personal space like he owned it. 

“You think I cracked?” Jeongguk asked, “You think I came here because I couldn’t hold it together?” His lips pressed together as if he were weighing what to admit and what not to. Then he exhaled, “I came here because I needed to see what the fuck you thought you were doing.” 

He was so close the scent of him hit you first. Cigarettes. Marlboro Ice Blast to be exact. The only kind Jeongguk smoked. The scent lingering into the fabric of his clothes and his skin after years of pretending it was just a habit. Then there was the whiskey. Enough to soften the edge of his voice but never enough to dull him because Jeongguk never drank to the point of inhibition. Then the smell of his cologne wafted up to your nose. Awakening your senses. You loathed the way your mind hazed when the scent hit you. 

You wondered how much he drank. You wondered how many cigarettes he smoked on his way here. You hated that you wondered at all. Your eyes drifted over him again despite trying to look away. 

Clothes darker than his soul. Hair slicked back to expose his forehead and a shiny barbell pierced through a dark brow. He always spent extra time making sure he looked unaffected. And he always failed because his eyes would always give him away. Brown eyes. Narrowed and dark with fixation. Yet soft like a doe’s at the same time. 

You swallowed thickly and tried not to make him hear you gulp. It was ridiculous how fast the heat radiated down between your legs just from the proximity of him in your space alone. 

Three weeks. Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of pretending you didn't wait for a text that never came. And now he was standing in your kitchen smelling like smoke, whiskey, and pure sex. He was fucking handsome. Annoyingly so. Looking at you like he was trying to solve a problem only he created.

Your lips twitched into a teasing smile and incredulously you say, "You look terrible." 

Jeongguk's eyebrow lifted. The corner of his mouth threatened to do the same. But his eyes… Those eyes stayed exactly where they were. On you. He huffed out a breathy laugh and shook his head, “Haven’t slept in 21 days.” 

His response electrified you more than it should have pissed you all the way off. 

Jeongguk lifted his hand before he could stop himself. Fingers hovering under your chin and about to close around your throat. He never got the chance because your heeled foot instantly lifted and planted square against the front of his pants in one harsh thud. Right at his crotch. You dug the heel into him. Not hard enough to hurt… that much. But enough to stop him right there. 

Jeongguk froze and you smiled. You didn’t look scared in the slightest. You look annoyed. Deeply, genuinely annoyed, "Don't fucking touch me." The words came out like a slap to the face and you pressed your heel forward another inch, forcing him to take a step back.

Jeongguk’s eyes flickered down to your pump. Then back up to you. Confused. Offended. And maybe just a little stunned. Possibly a bit turned on too. 

"Wash your hands." You sighed, "And maybe your entire existence while you're at it."

"What?"

"Don’t know if those fingers were in some blonde bitch for the last three weeks."

You gestured vaguely towards the sink behind you and Jeongguk simply tried to wrack his dumb male brain to figure out what blonde you were talking about. Yes, he already forgot. What else did you expect? 

The cymbals finally clashed in his head and realization flashed across his face. Then disbelief, "Are you fucking serious?" He rolled his eyes. Then against his better judgment, a laugh chortled out of his lips. A short one. Disbelieving.

"I'm extremely fucking serious, you asshole." Your heel didn’t move from his crotch and instead you dug it in deeper, "If you think you can stand there after letting some bitch hang off you all night and then touch me like nothing happened, you're more fucked up than I thought."

“That was just an associate.” He quipped back quickly. As if he were shutting the assumption down faster than it came up, “A business partner.” He nodded, stepping back towards the sink to wash his hands anyways. Whipped. 

“Oh is that so?” You hummed with no amusement whatsoever. 

Jeongguk nodded once and the faucet turned on. You turned your head to watch him wash his hands. Watched him lather soap onto his palms. Then watched him scrub thoroughly. Watching the way the stream of water fell over his wrists and tattooed fingers. 

The sight irritated you more than if he would have argued. Your gaze followed the tattoos stretching over the backs of his fingers. The ink shifting as his fingers flexed beneath the water. He could be so obedient sometimes. Only with you though. And it was so sexy it pissed you clean off. 

You remembered those hands on you three weeks ago. Those fingers in you. It was a long 21 days of silence. And now the fucker was standing in your kitchen acting like that silence was some noble sacrifice instead of the cruelest thing he had ever done to you.

"You looked pretty comfortable with her." You added nonchalantly. The words slipped out before you could stop them. You weren’t planning to let this one go anytime soon. And yes, you were jealous. You weren’t going to say it out loud though. Hell could freeze over before you admitted how you truly felt. 

Jeongguk shut off the faucet and his shoulders tensed slightly. He dried his hands slowly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips before his eyes lowered for a moment then lifted to meet yours as he circled back around to where you sat, “So, who’s jealous now?” 

The look he gave you was unwavering. You hated when he looked at you like that because you missed it more than you would ever dare to admit. You would rather die than tell him though. 

“If that’s what helps you sleep tonight, sure.” You mused, looking off into the distance at nothing in particular. Heat rising to your cheeks and making you flush with slight embarassment. 

The thought of you being jealous hit Jeongguk so hard he almost missed the next thing you said. You didn’t outright admit it because lord, you would never do that. Not even if someone put a gun to your head. But it was there. Loud and clear. In the way your nose scrunched when you mentioned the blonde. In the disgust dripping from the word bitch. In the fact that you told him not to touch you until he washed his hands.

Whatever he was angry about seemingly diminished because jealousy (to Jeongguk at least) meant you cared. Jealousy meant you watched him too. Jealousy meant all those cold glances at the bar, all those taps against your glass, all those hours pretending he didn't exist were a lie. A beautiful, miserable lie.

Jeongguk thought back to the way you sat there at the bar. Refusing to meet his eyes. Laughing with another man. Leaving without a backward glance. Letting that big fuck grab your ass. 

He had convinced himself you were done. That you were going to move on. That you didn't care if he lived or died as long as he stayed out of your way. But now… he was standing in your kitchen watching you pout because another woman sat too close to him.

He spent three weeks pretending silence was the right decision. Three weeks thinking he was protecting both of you. Three weeks acting like the Gwishin he was. 

Yet one sentence from you turned him into a fucking idiot.

The moment Jeongguk realized you were jealous, a scarier feeling washed over him. The feeling that you never stopped loving him enough to hate him which was infinitely more dangerous than indifference. Indifference he could survive. This though. This was hope. And the Ghost had always been weakest when it came to you.

Something warm and selfish unfurled in his chest. He hated himself for it instantly. His eyes dropped to your hands folded stubbornly across your chest. Then back to your face and then he instantly closed the space between you both once again without another thought. Trapping you against the countertop. Blocking the kitchen’s ceiling light with his wide frame. 

He stopped just before touching you because he learned the hard way that you hated people making choices for you. So, he waited for you to finally look at him.

Your eyes lifted slowly from his chest to his face right on queue. Lingering for a heartbeat on the tattoo peeking out from his collar. Then your gaze trailed slowly up to his eyes.

Jeongguk forgot whatever snarky shit he was going to say because you were looking at him like you had been waiting for this. Your eyes were bright with triumph. With something alive and dangerous breaking through the surface of your uncaring facade. 

All night you had been laying out breadcrumbs just to see if he would follow. And the dumb ass did. All the way here. You knew all along. At the bar when you ignored him. When you laughed with that fuckhead. When you left and didn’t look back. You knew exactly what your plan was. And now you were sitting on your kitchen counter looking at him like this. Like you had been waiting for the Ghost to finally show himself. 

That sultry smile that had been hanging off your lips all night started again. Slowly. Small at first. Then bigger. Pleased. Victorious. 

Jeongguk’s tongue clicked against his teeth in annoyance. Annoyance because you won. You had him right where you wanted. His lidded eyes traced over your face before settling onto the curve of your lips. And then he whispered, "Guess I’m the one that cracked after all." His head lowered until his forehead thumped against yours and your eyelids fluttered. 

Three weeks apart and suddenly the distance between you both felt impossibly small and impossibly large at the same time.

Jeongguk was close enough to see the tiny flecks of light in your eyes. Close enough to notice the way your breathing had changed. Close enough to know that if either of you said one more stupid thing, the moment will shatter.

You shrugged one shoulder. A careless gesture, really. But unfortunately, your eyes betrayed you instantly. They glittered like stars reflected in dark water. Pride. And then you exhaled shakily. The dam of pent up desire breaking and flooding through you at once, “Guess you did.” You whispered and reached up with both hands, cupping Jeongguk’s face and crashing his lips against yours. 

Jeongguk hesitated for a short second in kissing you back. The hesitation was so unlike him that it embarrassed him. The pause didn't last long though because the moment the softness of your lips pressed against his own, he realized he was a goner. 

The kiss started small. Tentative. More question than answer.

Three weeks wasn’t a long time. Until it is. Until every day stretches and pride becomes heavier than loneliness. Until you convince yourself you don't care. Until he's here. In your home. Close enough to remind you that you were lying all along. 

The anger didn’t disappear. The jealousy didn’t fade. All of it was still there. In the way your hand curls under his jaw and pulled him closer. And in the way he paused between your lips slotting together as though he was expecting you to push him away again. 

Strong arms slid around your waist and next thing you knew, you were being hoisted with perfect ease off the kitchen counter. You grabbed onto thick shoulders. Legs secured around a tiny waist. Eager lips back on his own. Kissing each other stupid as two hands covered over your ass and began walking in the direction to your bedroom,

“Keep those heels on, yeah?” Jeongguk grunted into the kiss. One wide shoulder pushing through the bedroom door and carrying you straight over to your bed because of course he could never forget where your bedroom was. 

He dropped you onto the bed as if you were as light as a feather. You let out a soft squeak from the impact of your back hitting the bed and then you sat up. Keeping your eyes on Jeongguk as you shimmied your way out of that skin tight dress immediately. Impatiently. As if you simply couldn’t wait to rid yourself of the clothing. 

You could see his pulse moving along the jugular vein on his neck as he watched you undress. It made you feel dangerous. Sexy. Alive. He kept his eyes on you even as you kicked the dress off from around your ankles and heard it land with a smack against the wall across your bedroom as you crawled over to the edge of the bed before laying down on your stomach. Chest heaving as you gazed up at the figure standing at the end of your bed. 

Black nail polished, fingers were already fixed to the buttons on his shirt. You watched with hooded eyes as he worked the buttons down of his shirt until it splayed open, “Fuck.” You purred out, watching those same fingers trail down his chest and then down towards his abs. 

“You look hungry, sweetheart.” Jeongguk slurred, fingertips stopping at the silver buckle on the belt of his pants. 

“Starving.” You corrected, moving so that you were sitting on your knees now in front of Jeongguk and leaning in closer as the chime of a belt undoing clinked through the bedroom. 

"I'm carrying." Jeongguk announced suddenly when he caught your eyes drift downward as he reached behind his waist and pulled his Glock out from the band of his pants. He set it onto your dresser behind him quickly almost as though he didn’t even want you to see it. 

The sight of the gun made your chest tighten in panic for a second anyways. Your eyes landed on the silver finishing of the gun. Gaze catching his gold engraved initials on it. You didn’t question why he was carrying because the unsettling thought of him wanting to use it for any reason tonight crossed your mind. 

You thought about the man from the bar. The giant who rested his hand on your ass. The one you laughed with just to prove a point. For one awful moment, a thought flashed through your head. Did he think about him on the way here?

You stomped the wonder out of your head before it reached your lips in the form of a question. You didn’t let yourself finish the thought. You didn’t ask. You never asked questions you weren't prepared to hear the answer to. 

Gwishin had never been a man whose silence was empty. You knew that better than anyone. So, you lifted your eyes back to his face and he was already watching you as if he expected you to say something. 

Your gaze drifted back to the weapon on your dresser behind Jeongguk and it was almost as though the machinery was giving you the easy way out. Giving you the option to kick this terror of a man out of your life for good. You didn’t take the out because the way he looked at you like he was starving and furious all at once felt as though this wasn’t the thing you wanted to fight about.

You already knew there were parts of Gwishin that weren’t yours. Parts of him that lived in a cemetery. Parts that you learned a long time ago not to drag into the light unless he offered them himself.

So, you said nothing. If that made you a coward, so be it. 

Jeongguk simply watched you with a look in his eye that read along the lines of wishing you didn't know him this well. Or perhaps like he wished you didn't know him at all.

But you knew him. And you knew Gwishin too. That's why you didn’t say a word because sometimes the most terrifying answers are the ones you already understand on your own.

You reached up and replaced Jeongguk’s hands with yours instead. Popping the button to his pants open and working the zipper down, “Focus on me.” You whispered to him to distract him from the weapon sitting idly on your dresser. Or maybe it was to distract yourself more. Who fucking knew anymore. Nothing made sense when it came to you and Jeongguk. Either way, you hastily pushed the waistband to his pants and boxers down just enough to let his cock spring out. Your mouth watered at the sight and you shifted closer. Whimpering softly when you realized between your thighs felt as if slick were already pooling there. 

Jeongguk cursed under his breath as the cool air of your bedroom hit the heat of his cock. His jaw flexed and he hadn’t realized until now he was clenching his teeth. Almost as if that part of him had a mind of its own, his length jumped when you closed in on him. 

“You’re so big. Fuck.” You whispered in awe, eyelashes fluttering as you laid back down on your stomach, mouth opening as Jeongguk took you by the chin with one hand and guided his length to your lips. Your tongue stuck out and your eyes almost crossed when he slapped the head of his cock on it. You moaned instantly and wrapped your lips around it. Sucking him into your mouth. 

“Mm. Nasty.” Jeongguk smirked but didn’t stop you. Instead, his hands found their way to your hair. Threading through the locks and pushing the strands away from your face as he gazed down at you, “Fuck.” He dropped his head back, making your hair wrap around his wrist while he gave the locks a gentle tug, “Fucking love this pretty mouth.” He breathed out, closing his eyes briefly before opening them to look down at you. 

You stared up at him. Tears already blurring your vision but you couldn’t give a single fuck. You tried to fit more of him into your mouth. But it simply wasn’t possible. That’s how big he was. You gagged trying. Choking yourself slightly and smiling the entire time you did it too. The noises leaving your lips were nothing short of obscene. The sounds of spit. Sucking and this man’s deep ass sighs filling the room. 

Jeongguk could feel the pit of his stomach clench faster than he wanted it to. But with all the pent up tension slowly unraveling, it was expected. “Fuck, you’re so good.” He groaned. His chest rising and falling with each labored breath he inhaled, “Could nut from this alone.” He hummed. 

You gagged once more in response and then let go of his cock between your lips with a lewd pop. Only to dip your head lower and trail your tongue along the underside of his length. Fingers reaching up to squeeze over his balls. Feeling how heavy they were. The veins on his length twitched over your tongue as you massaged over them with the flicks of your tongue then you hummed as you pulled back to look up at Jeongguk, 

“Gonna cum all over my face, Gwishin?” You looked up at him with pleading eyes, a devious smile along your lips before they wrapped around the top of his leaking dick once again. Your tongue swirled around the head. Then the tip of it dug into the slit. Sucking the precum pooling at the tip. 

Well, that did it because you never used that name with him unless you were really in the mood to be a slutty brat. 

Jeongguk grunted and pulled out of your mouth at once. Gripping the base of his cock with his hand. Pumping himself one, two, three times and then he was spilling with a lewd groan. His teeth were trapped over his lower lip but that didn’t stop the noises. God, the noises. It was like music to your ears. But even better were the hot ropes of his release spurting out and landing onto your skin. Hitting you on your cheek and lips. Dribbling down your chin all the way to your chest. 

He couldn’t even catch his breath before you were licking your lips and moaning out something about how good he tasted. Jeongguk could barely hear over the ringing in his ears. Your voice sounded like a dull reverb in his ears that were full of blood rushing through them. He panted softly to catch his breath. Dick still hard and raging as if nothing even happened. 

He had his eyes on you in disbelief but you were already laying on your back and making use of the canvas he painted on you. A finger swiping over your cheek. Then your chin and over your chest. Collecting his release with fascination from the sheer volume of it. 

You moved the droplets you had collected downwards until your hand was nestled between your thighs. Fingers pushing under the sheer lace of your thong. Cum coated fingers sliding over yourself. Spreading yourself wide and pressing the digits up against your clit. Circling over it and letting out a soft whimper before you dipped your fingers into yourself. The sound of your wetness and his release pushing into you made Jeongguk growl. Literally growl. And then he was climbing onto the bed. 

He wasted no time. Climbing onto the edge of the bed as you pulled your fingers out of yourself and leaned back on your elbows to prop yourself up, scooting your body upwards to make room for him. The fingers that were once inside you were now at your mouth to suck over them as you watched Jeongguk with lidded eyes. 

Your legs spread unconsciously as he crawled on his hands and knees over to you, “We taste good.” You mewled, “Come here, baby.” A smile stretched across your lips when Jeongguk finally settled between your thighs. He leaned down towards you and you met him halfway. Slender fingers wrapping around his thick ass neck when you pulled him down to kiss you. 

“Driving me fucking insane.” Jeongguk gruffed out before his tongue invaded your mouth as if he were on a mission. You let him take control. Swapping spit. Breaths. Tasting the mix of each other off your mouth as your tongues touched. You moaned into his mouth and Jeongguk drank the noises up as his rough hands gripped the skimpy material of your underwear to tug it down and off you in one clean sweep. 

Your hips lifted on their own to help him get your panties off. Then you watched him ball the thin red lace up into his large palm. Bringing the fabric to his face and pressing his nose into it. Inhaling your scent deep as though he were a druggie trying to get a fix. You almost moaned watching him. Feeling your insides gush with need at the sight. 

And then you watched the thong disappear in a flash of red across the room. Half a second later, the Ghost was crowding over you again. Blocking everything in your line of sight until you were seeing only him. 

You had a finger hooked over the silver necklace around his neck next. Bringing him down closer to you as you laid back down. Strong arms planting onto the plush mattress under you. His weight making the bed dip. While his hips pressed down between your spread thighs. Making him feel the heat there between the both of you. 

Lips were crashing against each other in no time. As though neither of you wanted to let a breath go by without it being shared between the two of you. And as your mouths moved together, you reached up, pushing at the lapels of his shirt that he still had on. Sliding the fabric off rigid shoulders before they got stuck around his massive arms. 

Jeongguk pulled away from your lips slightly to tug the shirt off him quickly. Letting it crumple onto the corner of your bed then slide off carelessly into a heap on the floor. Working on his pants next until he was rid of any more clothes that could get in the way. 

Then he was back at your mouth. Ravaging you with his own until you were gripping over his shoulders with both hands. His lips dipped lower. Trapping the hard bud of your nipple with his teeth before dragging his tongue over it agonizingly slow. Your back arched up towards his mouth for more as he did the same to the other breast. And then your thigh hooked around his waist with your heel digging into his bare skin. He hissed at the feeling only to reach behind him to press the heel of your shoe into him more. 

And finally with all the strength you could muster. You pushed him over. Rolling the both of you until Jeongguk was lying flat on his back and you were on top of him. You planted your hands on top of his wide ass chest. Pointy nails digging into firm flesh, “Wanna ride you.” You whispered, pressing your pussy down onto his thick length. Grounding yourself over him shamelessly. 

The smug fucker simply smiled and tucked an arm behind his head. Freehand resting over your hip as you slid your wet core over his rigid length. The heat between the both of you burned hotter than a thousand suns. And your clit dragging over the heaviness of his cock only made coils twist and turn in the pit of your stomach. 

“Fuck, what’s happening with you tonight?” He whispered breathlessly, “You’re gonna take the life out of me.” He chuckled, dark eyes caught on the curve of your breasts as you sat up properly and took his hand that was over your hip, guiding it up to the base of your neck, 

“You happened to me.” You confessed with a soft whine as he gripped the base of your neck gently, “You made me like this.” Your vision blurred when your clit ran over the throb of his length again and without any hesitation, you lifted yourself up and reached down between your legs, picking up his monstrous length only to push the head of it against your fluttering entrance. 

“Be careful.” Jeongguk warned but your eyes squeezed shut and your breath hitched when you inserted him into you anyways. Uncaring. Filthy. Simply too smitten with need to think twice.

“Fuck.” Your body tensed as you tried to breathe through the stretch. That delicious pain. Jeongguk grabbed you by the waist to hold you up when you almost collapsed onto him. You forced yourself down anyway. Inch by inch. Making his cock bury all the way into you. It was no easy feat and you were already spent. Feeling as if he impaled you. “Hurts.” You cried out softly. 

Jeongguk gave your waist a comforting squeeze but his tongue clicked against his teeth disapprovingly as he struggled through a breath, “Told you to be fuckin’ careful, brat.” He spat out, jaw clenching painfully tight as your walls squeezed around his length. 

“Can’t help it.” Your voice was broken as you tried to speak, finally sinking down all the way onto him. Letting his length fill you up entirely. Your legs were shaking. Shoulders trembling. Nails curled deep into the skin along Jeongguk’s abdomen. And with furrowed brows, you barely managed to say, “Just wanna feel you.” 

He kept his eyes on your face, head shaking with dismay before his voice whispered out softly, “C’mon breathe, my little flower.” He cooed, “You can do it.” He nodded and praised when he saw your shoulders loosen, “That’s a good girl.” He hummed out when you started to rock your hips back and forth as a test. 

It was only meant to be a test to see if you were adjusted to his size enough but the pleasure that went up your back in one sharp wave had you moving already. Making goosebumps line your skin as your head tipped back. Your jaw slacked. Eyes rolled shut. 

And then you were riding. Picking yourself up only to slam back down. Rocking yourself each time you went down, “Feels so good.” You mewled, “So deep.” Your voice came out shaky, feeling the tip of his cock pushing against your cervix from the angle. It wasn’t the greatest feeling if you had to admit. But was what it called when you were so far gone that you didn’t care either? Oh yeah, cock hungry. Dick drunk. In love. 

“Thatta girl.” Jeongguk praised, fighting against himself to grab you by the hips and fuck himself into you. He wanted you to have your moment on your own. He wanted you to use him in any way you needed. That didn’t stop the grunts leaving his lips in labored noises though. He was enjoying this just as much as you were, “Keep going, sweetheart.” He breathed out, “You’re doing so good. So fucking tight just for me.” The words fell out of his lips like a mantra. A prayer. Jeongguk didn’t believe in God in the slightest but damn, did he believe in you. 

You were tired already. Sweat slicking down your back and making your hair stick to it. Your thighs quaked. Body shivering. Your nails sunk deeper intoJeongguk’s skin. Scratching over him. But you didn’t stop. You rocked over him. Felt every inch of his cock as you ground your hips. 

You gazed down at Jeongguk and a smile crossed your lips as you looked at him. His jaw locked tight. Dark brows furrowed. Fighting demons in his head to keep himself from nutting quick, “You’re so fucking hot.” You moaned the words out as if just looking at him alone could take you to the edge. 

And that’s when Jeongguk flipped the two of you over with one fluid motion. Dick still buried to the hilt as he laid on top of you. You mewled out in relief when your positions switched. Your back sinking into the plush bed while your legs went up. Hooking on their own over Jeongguk’s meaty shoulders, 

“You good?” He asked and you nodded quickly. Too quickly.

He folded you like a damn piece of paper at that. Your knees pressing into your chest. Making it hard for you to take a freaking breath. And then he was fucking into you. Skin slapping. Echoing through the room. Grunts and whines filling the space like a symphony of music. 

“Want it harder, Ggukie.” You pleaded, “Wanna feel you all the way into tomorrow.” You babbled the nonsense out and Jeongguk only grunted out deep in his throat in response. 

Again, he wasn’t a man that defied the laws that were you too often. He was leashed to you like a damn rabid animal. Tethered. Whipped some might even call it. Jeongguk didn’t care. 

He worshipped at the temple that was your body. And he would be a mad man to deny you of what you wanted. You wanted to hurt tomorrow? Hurt you would. He had no more dick left to give because he was buried into you as deep as he could go. He did have one thing left on his side though. Stamina. Endurance. Strength. 

Jeongguk didn’t move faster. Harder didn’t mean speed. Harder meant that you wanted the sinfully delicious taste of pain. You wanted to feel him all the way up your throat. All the way in your heart. 

He pushed into you with a strong thrust only to pull back out again. All the way out. Then right back in. Stretching your walls wider. Taking your soul. And leaving you fiending for even more. The tempo of the thrusts only made the bed shake. The headboard soon hitting against the wall. One time. Two times. Three and then four. That’s when you finally came to your senses, 

“Holy fuck. Mrs. Grey.” You gasped out in alarm, hands at Jeongguk’s shoulders to halt him.

Mrs. Grey was the senior that lived next door to you both. She had to be about a century old. And yes, she was still all there too. When Jeongguk and you were a thing, she always seemed to know when he came over because that banging on the damn wall every time would wake the poor woman up out of her sleep. 

“God damn it, that hag is still alive?!” Jeongguk exhaled out an exhausted chuckle, reaching up with one hand to grab over the headboard, “Fuck.” He had to slow his thrusts because one thing about Jeongguk was that he wasn’t as disrespectful as everyone feared him to be. 

He actually quite liked the old woman. As nosy as she was. 

“Fuck it.” You whispered, legs dropping off Jeongguk’s shoulders so that you could actually take a proper breath. You had one damn high heel left on your foot and you kicked it off quickly. Not sure where the other went. You didn’t care. Arms slid around Jeongguk’s shoulders, your wrists crossing behind his neck, “I’ll apologize to her in the morning.” You nodded, looking into his eyes that were full of amusement, “Just make me cum already.” You hummed out, “And then fill me up, Ggukkie. Want your nut in me so bad.” 

The sound of your voice and those desperate pleas made Jeongguk’s stomach clench viciously. Let’s not forget those eyes staring up at him either. Stars in your eyes that showed him the entire galaxy. The universe and everything in between. He couldn’t say no to those eyes. No way. He drawed in a steadying breath and shook his head at you. 

Good god, he was sure you were going to send him to an early grave for sure tonight. 

Strong hands buried into the bedsheets under you both and Jeongguk forced himself to hold his weight upright. His head dropped to your shoulder for a second and he kissed over your skin. The tip of his length nudging at that special spot deep within you that only Jeongguk could reach. 

Your head tilted back from that. Eyes seeing constellations in the ceiling above you. Fingers finding the back of his hair while your freehand moved down his back. Etching your nails into his skin. One leg wrapped lazily around Jeongguk’s waist and the heel of your barefoot pressed him closer to you. Wanting to feel every inch of him against you. 

You were body to body. Skin to skin. Moulding together in perfect unity. 

His thrusts slowed but didn’t stop when his head lifted. Eyes finding yours through the moonlight of the bedroom. Jeongguk simply stared into your eyes for a moment and then he leaned in. Pressing a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t the type of kiss you both shared earlier. It wasn’t full of greed, teeth and tongue. It was full of affection. Apology. Promise. 

You could feel tears pricking into your eyes as you stared back at him. You couldn’t pinpoint why you were crying. Perhaps it was the dick snatching your soul. Perhaps it was just the man that was Jeongguk on its own. Maybe it was something about the way his tempo changed. About the way he studied your face as though he were memorizing you again just in case this was the last time he ever saw you. You realized quietly in the pit of your heart, that you never wanted to be away from these eyes again. 

Your chest clenched within you when you kissed him back because it felt as though Jeongguk was trying to say something to you without words. Using his body as a language to say things he could never attempt to do on a regular day. 

Why do we do this to each other? Why do we push each other away? All we want is each other. Let’s stop, please. 

“Don’t ignore me again.” You sighed out softly when Jeongguk broke the kiss. Your fingers moved from the back of his hair and touching over his cheek, “My Gwishin.” You whispered that terrifying ass name out to him. It wasn’t terrifying to you. Not anymore at least. 

Jeongguk exhaled quietly and then whispered, “I won’t.” He promised and started to pushed himself into you again. Harder now. The headboard hit the wall once more. You hardly noticed because this time, the pleasure felt different. It felt full in a way that wasn’t just about his dick anymore. Your heart fell full. 

He pressed his forehead against yours. Lips ghosting over your own as he slid in and out of you. You could feel him rubbing against that spot. Specks of white began to prick your vision. You closed your eyes tight. And pressed your lips together to refrain from making noise and Jeongguk shook his head, 

“Let me hear you, princess.” He nodded with encouragement, “Don’t hide from me. You know I don’t like that.” 

A broken whine escaped your lips and you forced yourself to open your eyes. Your breathing quickened. And then you couldn’t hold back any longer, “I’m–” You barely got the words out. A seer of fire exploded across your skin at once. You said his name as if it were a song. Your thighs closed around his waist. Hips bucked up as your body jolted. Making your head accidentally bump Jeongguk’s own. You didn’t seem to notice one bit. Your walls tightened around him and your body rocked the feeling out as you let out pained whimpers from the sensation. 

“That’s it. Ride it out, honey.” He talked you through it, “Just like that.” He eased the words out naturally. As if he didn’t even need to think about what to say when it came to you. 

He could feel your walls start to loosen around his cock to give him room to thrust again and then he started to move, “Gonna fill you up, baby. You ready?” He whispered and you nodded weakly, “Need to hear you.” He spoke sternly to which you whispered a breathless yes. 

It didn’t take long for him to fill you up. Two strokes later and he was spilling for the second time tonight. Emptying himself into you and giving you everything he had of him that was left. He dragged your name out from his lips when he came. Lips catching yours to kiss you as he rode it out before he swore under his breath when he pulled away, “Shit.” He struggled to breathe and began to pull away before you stopped him. 

“Don’t pull out.” You whispered, eyelids heavy as you stared up at him, “Not yet.”  

“Want me to go or stay?” Jeongguk questioned. He could feel the burn on his muscles from keeping himself held up for so long and he gave up. His body slumping against yours as carefully as he could. He probably crushed you with his weight but you didn’t seem to care. In fact, you hummed out sweetly when he laid down on top of you. His cock still buried into you while your thighs slowly dropped from being locked around his waist. 

“Stay.” You whispered tiredly to Jeongguk, your arm circling around his shoulders to keep him close to you as if you feared he would disappear right before your eyes, “Don’t go.” 

That ice cold muscle that was Jeongguk’s heart melted at once as he looked at you, “I won’t leave.” He nodded, a hand coming up to brush over your cheek, “Don’t fall asleep on me, babydoll.” He instructed, “We need to clean up first.” He reluctantly began to pull out and you whined quietly from the loss of feeling him inside of you. 

You felt him pull a blanket over the both of you and you curled onto your side next to Jeongguk while the mattress to your bed dipped with his weight when he laid down on his back, “Mm.” You grumbled in response, “In a bit.” You hummed. Feeling the heaviness in your eyelids already began to lull you into sleep. 

You forced yourself to stay awake though. Lidded eyes on the side of Jeongguk’s face. Finding his silhouette through the moonlight slipping through the curtains. The moon was full tonight. Shining into your bedroom in colours of blue and white. It was still dark but there was enough light to make out the shape of him beside you.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t regret anything that happened just now. Yet you felt a strange burning in your chest that came in the form of confusion. 

Jeongguk was lying on his back, one arm tucked beneath his head. The other resting across his stomach, tattoos barely visible in the moonlight. He had his eyes closed. Breathing finally at a normal pace. 

The smart thing to do was go clean yourself up. To go pee and take a shower. Toss your wet sheets into the wash while you were at it too. But you could hardly move. All you wanted was to be in the close proximity that was Jeon Jeongguk. 

You squeezed your thighs together when you felt him trickling out of you. Not letting even a single drop leak out because for some odd reason, the feeling of some part of him still inside you strangely brought you comfort. It was nearly three in the morning. You should be sleeping. Instead, you were laid on your side, staring at Jeongguk. You propped your head up on your hand, eyes tracing his profile shamelessly.

The straight bridge of his nose. The faint scar across his cheek. The way his hair had fallen apart from being gelled, soft strands spilling onto his forehead. Long eyelashes resting over the dark circles under his eyes. You could feel the ache in your chest as you looked at him. Feeling him within the heartbeat thumping steadily right at the center of your chest. 

One single question plagued your mind as you laid there. What now? 

You continued to stare at him then reached up and brushed your finger over the tattoo on his chest. The asshole was pretending to be asleep. You knew this because his breathing changed the second you touch ghosted over his skin, 

"I hated you for three weeks." You broke the silence. 

His eyes finally opened at that. The moonlight caught in them. They didn’t look as dark as they did just a few moments ago. Instead, cocoa coloured irises drifted towards you as he turned his head. And in his eyes, you didn’t see the lustrous gaze he had while he was on top of you anymore either. You saw a gentle twinkle in them. A sea of brown you wanted to drown in. 

Jeongguk looked tired. Not physically per se. But mentally. Tired with the gravity of you that was hanging heavy over his heart, "So did I." He finally said. 

You turned onto your back and stared up at the ceiling. At the cracks in the paint. At the shadows moving faintly across the room. Staring at anything but Jeongguk because looking at him hurt. And not looking at him hurt even more. You pulled the blanket up to tuck it around your chest as you sighed out into the dark room,

“What do we do now?” You questioned, your words disappearing into the darkness.

The words felt so small. So ordinary. But nothing about the question was easy. 

Three weeks. You still couldn’t believe he did that to you. Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of checking your phone and hating yourself for it. Three weeks of wondering if the last few years of your life had only mattered to you.

The bed dipped slightly and Jeongguk turned onto his side to face you now. 

You didn’t have to look to know. You could feel him. Always.

The silence between you both went on for so long, you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he exhaled quietly and whispered, "I don't know." Jeongguk went quiet after that. Thinking.

You hated that he was thinking. You wished he would tell you a joke instead. Or kiss you. Or do literally anything except let the silence hang. You wondered what thoughts were passing through his mind. Would he say the thing you both had been avoiding?

You turned your head again and really looked at him. Looked at the man who ignored you for three weeks because he thought distance would save the both of you. The man who followed you home anyway. The man who looked ready to open fire on half the city because you smiled at someone else.

You ignored him all night just to hurt him. Left the bar with another man just to make him jealous. Made him chase you.

The whole time you did what you did, you felt it all. Felt the weight of his gaze. The way the room held its breath. Every glance you denied him was deliberate. Every laugh that wasn't his to hear was done with intent. Every second you spent pretending not to feel him staring at you from across The 7 Devils. 

God you loved it. Loved the way Gwishin, the Ghost himself looked smaller every time you refused to look back. You hated that you loved it. 

For three weeks, you were the one waiting. The one staring at a screen. The one swallowing pride until it felt like glass in your throat. You wanted him to hurt. Wanted him to wonder. Wanted him to feel even a sliver of what you felt when he disappeared. 

So, you let another man buy you a drink. You smiled. You leaned in. You let his hand grab your ass when you left. You played the part. Not because you wanted him. You barely could remember his name. You did it because Jeongguk was watching. Somewhere deep down inside of you... there was an ugly ache to prove something. 

You wanted Gwishin to suffer.

And he did.

You won. You got exactly what you wanted.

So, why did it still feel like you were losing?

You both were so bad for each other. And it’s not like you don't love him because you do. More than you could put into words. With a devotion so deep it sickened you.

The two of you spoke a language no one else understood. Sometimes you thought that was the problem. You both spent so many years learning how to hurt each other that you had forgotten how to do anything else.

Love wasn’t supposed to feel like revenge. It isn't supposed to feel like winning. Yet with Jeongguk, every argument was a battlefield. Every silence was punishment. Every reunion was a surrender neither of you wanted to make.

You turned your head only to find that Jeongguk was already looking at you.

You wonder if he felt it too. The mess you both had become. The way your love had teeth. The way neither of you knew how to leave. Or stay. You knew exactly what you were to each other. A weakness. An obsession. A home. A festering wound.

Your eyes met and you turned to face him too. For a moment, you both just looked at each other. And then there it was again. That ache. The problem.

You loved him too much. Enough to wait. Enough to be jealous. Enough to hurt each other just to prove you still care.

It was hideous. You both knew it.

Jeongguk reached over towards you and your eyelids fluttered instinctively. A warm palm cupped your cheek and you leaned into his touch. Eyes closing while you nuzzled his palm. Feeling the heat from his skin radiate to your own. 

"I don't want to lose you again." He confessed. There was no bravado in his tone. No cockiness. The confession fell quietly and scattered throughout the dark bedroom and it made your breath hitch right in your throat. 

You simply turned your head and pressed a gentle kiss to his palm before sliding closer into his embrace. Your noses brushed. Your chests pressed together. Heartbeats one. And then you reached up, fingertips tracing airy touches over the curve of his lips. You gazed at the man lying with you like this. The soft plea within his eyes silently asking for something he couldn’t force anymore. It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.

His eyes searched your face. There was no expectation behind his eyes. He knew he had hurt you too much to beg for you to keep him. But there was a hopefilled glint behind those brown eyes. 

Hope looked so wrong on Jeongguk. Hope looked too human. Too fragile. 

You swallowed thickly and one word repeated in your head. Again. As if you ever truly left. As if he didn't just spend three weeks proving that he could survive without you. Except you knew now that he didn't survive it all. 

And neither did you.

You looked away and your eyes drifted to your dresser because if you looked at him too long, you would forgive him. And then the cycle would continue. Your gaze landed on the glock still sitting there as if Jeongguk had never used it to kill people. The thought made you uneasy and without thinking, your eyes found Jeongguk’s again just like you always did. 

The way he looked right now and the weapon sitting in your bedroom just made no sense to you. Maybe it wasn’t ever supposed to make sense between you both. 

"I don't know how to do this." Jeongguk admitted quietly, “I don’t know how to keep you.” 

The words didn’t even sound like him because Jeongguk always knows. He always decides. Always acts. Always get the final word. Always the last man standing. But when it came to you, Jeongguk had never truly figured you out. 

Maybe that's why Jeongguk loved you so much. You were the only thing in his life that refused to bend. The only thing he couldn't intimidate. The only thing he couldn't buy back, fight for, or threaten into staying.

You stayed because you wanted to. You left because you wanted to. And every single time, it terrified him.

Perhaps it was the same for you too. 

You didn’t know how to love Jeongguk without trying to punish him when you were hurt. You didn’t know how to stop waiting for him to disappoint you. You didn’t know how to stop needing him.

Love was never the problem. You loved each other too much. So much that it curdled into jealousy like spoilt milk. Into silence. Into tests. Into cruelty. You had both spent years proving you would bleed for each other. But neither of you ever learned how to heal.

Neither of you knew how to love quietly. You both loved loudly. Possessively. Stupidly. You wounded each other and then bled out when the other person hurt.

And yet after all that and more, you both were still here. Choosing each other once again. 

Slowly, you moved so that you were laying on top of him. Bare bodies against warm skin. A shaky exhale left your lips. The blanket around your shoulders dropped as you leaned down and closed the distance between you both, “I don't want you to keep me." You whispered with lips hovering over his own, "I want you to choose me."

Jeongguk’s breathing caught in his windpipe. Rough hands traced their way over your bare thighs as you sat down on top of his pelvis. His arms settled to wrap around your waist next. A broken exhale left his lips. A lump was stuck in his throat that he couldn’t quite swallow. The burn of tears threatened to slip out of his eyes. But Jeongguk didn’t cry. He refused to. Instead, he pressed you down against him as he leaned up to meet your lips. 

You smiled sadly at him and you could see the faint line of tears pooling into eyes, "You don't keep a shadow, Jeongguk." Your voice dropped to a whisper and then you lifted your hand, your fingers tapped against his chest once. Then twice. And finally three times. The space between you both diminished and your lips touched. Melting into one another as you whispered into the kiss, “You just learn to live with it.” 

For the first time in nearly 30 years, Jeongguk realized something the moment your lips found each other. Gwishin wasn’t afraid of death. The Ghost wasn’t afraid of pain. The only thing he had ever been afraid of… was waking up one day and hearing silence where your three taps used to be.

Jeongguk made plans to leave before sunrise. He had commitments he needed to fulfill. Jobs he needed to complete. Men that relied on him. Business to conduct. At least those were the excuses he told himself to make leaving feel better. He truly didn’t want to leave. But if he stayed any longer, he would start believing nights like this could fix the years of damage he did to you. 

And he had never been stupid enough to mistake fucking for healing. Not anymore at least.

He had slipped his clothes back on in your bedroom. The black outfit settling over broad muscles, hiding scars and ink on his skin along with the heavy weight of being human he carried with him everywhere. He paused by the front door as he slipped his feet back into his shoes. Lingering with his hand on the doorknob for a moment longer than necessary.

You pretended not to notice his hesitance. Standing behind him to see him out. Still stubborn. Still refusing to make this easier on him. He glanced back once and the sight of you almost undoes him.

Your hair was still messy from what happened just a few hours ago. Make up free from your skin. A light limp in your step. Freshly showered and dressed in comfortable clothes. Looking more beautiful now than you did walking into The 7 Devils.

Jeongguk tore his eyes away from you first because if he didn’t, he wouldn't leave. And if he didn’t leave, he would stay forever. The thought made his throat twist as if a thorned vine were wrapping around it. Then he opened the door and stepped out into the silent hallway where the cold fluorescent lights made him squint. 

This is where you usually let it end. Where pride wins. Where silence pretends it has strength. Where you let Gwishin become a story again instead of a person you’re still not ready to lose.

Jeongguk turned to walk away and your door began to swing shut behind him but something in you moved before your thoughts could catch it. Your fingers lifted and you tapped the wood of your front door once. It was a sound only Jeongguk would notice. He stopped. Not fully turning around yet. You tapped the door again. A little slower. Then a third time. Three. Always three. 

The sound wasn’t a threat anymore. Not a game either. 

Jeongguk knew what it meant. Even if you had never said it out loud.

I won’t disappear.

I love you.

I want you. 

He didn’t turn around immediately and it was though he needed a second to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. He took a moment. Then slowly he looked back at you. Through the narrow opening of the door. His eyes found you instantly like they always did

There was no tension in your gaze. No preparation for loss in his own. 

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

There was nothing left that words can do better than those three simple taps anyways. The taps hung between you both like a promise neither of you had figured out how to break anymore.

You smiled at him and it wasn’t the cruel smile from the bar. Or the victorious one from earlier either. It was something gentler. Sincere. So sincere it hurt him to look at.

Jeongguk simply stared at you because suddenly he was back in every single moment those taps ever existed throughout your relationship. At the bar. Across crowded rooms. At dinners. In cars. In his bed. In yours. Against his skin. 

The rhythm only he understood. Three taps.

For years he thought it meant I'm your shadow. But standing here now with dawn creeping through the hallway windows and your eyes sparkling like you were embarrassed to be this soft, Jeongguk realized he was wrong all along. The taps never meant that. It meant I'm still here. A promise.

The foreign feeling of fear crept into his stomach. Making it twist within itself. But it wasn’t fear of enemies. Or dying. It was fear of this. Of being loved this much. Of having something this precious to lose. Funny that an entire city feared the Ghost. Yet here he stood in this apartment’s hallway at dawn completely terrified by three stupid taps.

The last three weeks of emptiness don’t disappear. The hurt stays. The jealousy stays. And the fights will stay too. But so will this. You. You standing there. Still looking at him. Choosing him. 

The gentle thought crosses Jeongguk’s mind like a breathy kiss…  

Maybe your shadow was never something he needed to escape. 

Maybe it was the only place he had ever felt safe.

Jeongguk barely made it three steps down the hallway again before Mrs. Grey's apartment door suddenly swung open. Not cracked. Not peeked through. Swung. As though she had been standing there with her hand on the knob, waiting for him. 

You leaned against your doorway and watched the scene unfold. Mrs. Grey pointed a crooked finger at Jeongguk, "You." He stopped dead in his tracks. Any other stranger would mistake him for intimidating but Mrs. Grey was not a stranger. 

She squinted at him through her enormous glasses, "Took you long enough." She thrust a blue recycling bin toward him, "Take this to the recycling chute for me."

He didn't hesitate. Obediently taking the bin from her with both hands, "Of course, Mrs. Grey…"

You snorted out loud. Still watching. 

Mrs. Grey ignored you completely, "I've been doing it myself for months," She complained as she watched Jeongguk carry the bin down the hall, "Young people these days disappear and forget about old ladies."

He glanced back at her, "I didn't forget about you, Mrs. Grey."

You laughed again. Unable to stop the fit of giggles escaping your lips. 

Mrs. Grey finally pointed at you this time and raised her cane as she wobbled out into the hallway with her mumu swinging around her, "And you. Stop laughing."

Then, as if she had just remembered something urgent, Mrs. Grey gasped and leaned out again, calling after Jeongguk before he disappeared,  “You need to be back here by six.”

Jeongguk paused at the chute, half turned, “Why?”

“To walk Pebbles.” 

That made him still completely, “Pebbles?”

“My dog.”

“I know who Pebbles is.”

“Then why are you asking?” She snapped, “Disrespectful little kids–” She started grumbling to herself. And as if on perfect queue, a tiny bark echoed from inside her apartment . 

Jeongguk slowly turned his head toward the sound of the bark, then towards you. You were hiding your smile behind your hands. He looked completely betrayed. The kind of betrayal that could survive gunfire and rival gangs but not a small ass dog. 

Jeongguk exhaled in defeat, and nodded once.

The hallway smelled like detergent and old coffee. Someone’s radio hummed faintly through a closed door. Mrs. Grey was still talking. Unimpressed. And still completely in control of a man people were usually afraid to look at for too long.

And Jeongguk just listened like this was normal because it always had been.

You leaned against the doorway, watching him promise he would be back by six. Watching him accept instructions about a dog he pretended not to care about. Watching him soften in a way people rarely ever got to see.

When he finally turned to leave again, he didn't hesitate this time. His fingers brushed yours as he passed by. Not as a goodbye but more like a see you later. 

You don’t think about his touch lingering on your skin as he walked toward the stairs. You don’t think about it as Mrs. Grey shuts her door with a satisfied click. You don’t even think about it even as your apartment settled back into quietness because the question wasn’t whether you were back together.

It never really had been.

It’s whether you both had ever been apart at all.

[inthelow]

SMOKE SPRITE — jeon jungkook (4).

pairing: fem! reader x jeon jungkook

summary: You and Jungkook aren’t that close. You were supposedly be dating his best friend— then why is he about to fuck you in the back of his car?.

genre— warning!: literally porn with a little plot. mentions of cheating. fingering, oral sex (fem! rec), dry humping, pussyjob, cum eating (but not my usual type of cum eating hehe) unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, sub jungkook if u squint and maybe a bit of taekook if u think really hard… and probably more!!

author’s note: if u thought i couldn’t get nastier u were WRONG. posting part 4 after literally a year is kinda poetic sooo same time next year for part5?

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

Jungkook didn’t think of him as a strong willed man.

There’s wasn’t many thing he lost his mind over. He was patient, he was always good at everything he tried, and he was the kind of person who got bored easily. He worked hard, but talent and luck always seemed to be on his side, helping him achieve things. He always had a way of making things go his way, of making things fall into place exactly how he wanted them to. He was used to things going the way he expected, the way he needed, the way he wanted. Everything always went—

No, not everything.

There was one thing he couldn’t shake off so easily. There was one thing that wasn’t working out for him. One thing that was driving him insane. There was one thing he couldn’t get bored of, one thing he couldn’t get so easily, one thing he couldn’t have, but worse— one thing he shouldn’t want.

Jungkook knew he had some willpower, some control over his desires and wants. He could easily go on a diet and follow every strict restriction, he could easily stick to every workout routine, he could easily work his way up to a difficult note without warming up his voice. He could easily do a lot of things… but there was something that completely shattered every restriction.

You.

You just made his brain stop functioning. You made him go feral. Every moral, every ounce of control he had over his darkest and deepest desires broke apart immediately every time you were close, every time he thought about you. You had a way of playing with his mind without even realizing it. There must be something deeply wrong with him, it wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t reasonable the way he wanted you, the way his body ached for you.

Every bit self control, every will he had over his moral just went out of the window whenever he thought about you. You could just look at his direction and every speech he’d ever given himself about being a good man would shatter into pieces. You burned through his mind in a way he couldn’t understand.

He didn’t understand his feelings. He didn’t understand what was about you that made his brain work this way, digging up the darkest desires he never even had the courage to look at before. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was his ego. Maybe it was something carnal, something primitive.. He just knew he wanted you so badly it was becoming impossible for him to function properly.

He wanted to touch you again. He wanted to kiss your lips, to taste every corner of your mouth. He wanted to run his fingers over every inch of your body, he wanted to kiss and bite even the most hidden parts of you, the parts only he should get to see. And he wanted to be the only one. He wanted to be the only one to get you in his car, in his bed, in his kitchen, in his living room. Anywhere.

He just wanted to be the only one to hear those pretty noises you made, only for him. He wanted to be the only one to see your flushed face and that mischievous gaze you had every time you were burning hot. He wanted to be the only one to know the right places to touch you that made you roll your eyes and arch your back in pleasure… except, he couldn’t.

Taehyung was right there.

Taehyung, his best friend, probably doing all the things Jungkook wished he could do.

And he didn’t feel guilty at all for wanting you again, for wishing he was in Taehyung’s position. For even thinking his friend should see how much better he could be at taking care of you.

Jungkook knew he could, he would touch you in the right places, he wouldn’t let you go until you were too exhausted to even think about leaving him again. He wouldn’t let you be alone for one second, he would keep you busy, he would keep you full of him, you would be smelling and feeling him. That way nobody would come close to you, everybody would know you were his— clearly Taehyung wasn’t doing a good job if you kept coming back to him.

Well, not really coming.back to him… but at least not denying him

You had to want him the same way he wanted you, maybe in a less obsessive way… but there had to be some interest. Jungkook knew there had to be. He had made you feel good. He had kissed you and touched you in ways he was sure as hell his friend couldn’t. And even if he’d fucked up last time by acting like a jealous jerk, he couldn’t care less. He still wanted you. Even more than before. And he needed to find a way to be sure you still wanted him too.

Jungkook was throwing a party that same weekend.

It was too embarrassing and cringe to admit that he was so stubbornly looking for more excuses just to see you, but you hadn’t answered any of his texts for three days and he had already made up his mind that he had to see you at least one more time. He was already pathetic enough to beg for your attention if he had to resort to that.

Pathetic, very much so. But Jungkook had already been planning that party for a week, so the excuse was already there. He sent you a text, inviting you to the event. And after you didn’t answer—not to that message and not to the other twenty-four he sent—he decided to text Taehyung to invite him again, subtly telling him to bring you too.

Jungkook didn’t speak to Taehyung much during the week. He ignored most of his calls and texts asking to hang out, lying that he was busy with the party he was throwing. The truth was that Jungkook didn’t want to know if Taehyung had finally popped the question. If he had finally gotten the guts to tell you about his feelings and how badly he wanted you to be his. Or worse, Jungkook didn’t want to know if you had said yes.

The thought of you saying yes to belonging to another man after he kissed you and tasted every inch of you in his car hours before made his blood boil— but it also filled his chest with a strange sense of pride. The thought of your neck marked by his teeth, your lips swollen from his kisses, your face flushed from his doing, your your clit swollen by his touch, your cunt wet from his tongue, your body still carrying traces of him… it made him feel some type of way. Saying yes to another man after he had already made you his.

It made him chuckled a little.

How could you be with another man after that?. You would never be able to be completely his. In his eyes, you would never belong to Taehyung.

Jungkook realized way too early into the party that his plan sucked.

It was obvious you weren’t going to come. Why would you? Taehyung wasn’t the type of man to force you to go somewhere you didn’t want to be. Hell, even if he insisted, it wasn’t like you couldn’t just make something up. Say you were feeling sick or that you had to wake up early the next morning. You could come up with any excuse and Taehyung would believe it. Jungkook knew you were a good liar.

After all, you were lying to Taehyung’s face by not telling him you had almost fucked his best friend.

By the time people started arriving at the club, Jungkook had already checked the entrance more times than he could count. He hated every second you weren’t there, and with every passing minute he could feel his mood sinkin straight to hell. Every time the door opened, his eyes moved automatically, eery time somebody new walked in, there was a brief second where he thought maybe it was you. It never was.

Then Taehyung arrived, completely alone. And Jungkook knew his night was over.

He wasn’t with you and his friend didn’t look sad, heartbroken, or depressed at all.

Fucking hell.

“Where’s y/n?”

The question came out before he could stop himself. Jungkook was glad his friend didn’t notice the ulterior motive behind it. Taehyung just trusted him. He trusted his friend, Taehyung couldn’t even think or sense the idea of him trying to steal his girl. He didn’t know every thing Jungkook had donde with you, every thing he had done to you, every little thing he was waiting to do with you. If Taehyung could see Jungkook’s thoughts about you, he would realize how fucking sick he was. How his friend was a son of a bitch.

That was pretty fucked up, Jungkook knew that. And even knowing it, he didn’t care. He still was looking for you.

Taehyung shrugged. “She wasn’t really feeling like going out tonight.”

“Right.”

That was all. Taehyung didn’t give him any more explanation, not that Jungkook needed to know more. He was just an acquaintance to you anyway. There were no details, no information, and Jungkook nodded like he didn’t care because he didn’t want to ask more. Asking meant hearing answers he didn’t want to know. It meant hearing something he was already painfully aware of.

That maybe you and Taehyung…

“Want a drink?” He didn’t want to think about that.

A small smile appeared on his friend’s face as he looked around. “Please tell me you rented the bar too.”

“Of course, man.”

Jungkook walked with Taehyung to the counter to order some drinks, and the rest of the night felt unbearable after that.

A few minutes later, after getting Taehyung a drink and mixing him in with some other friends, Jungkook was already back to avoiding him under the excuse of hosting the event. He didn’t want to hear anything Taehyung had to say. Taehyung knew exactly why you weren’t there. You had probably told him some excuse, some lie.

Maybe the two of you had talked yesterday, maybe this morning. Shit, maybe five minutes ago. Maybe your messages were sitting right there on his phone.

Or worse, maybe he had been with you just before coming here. Maybe Taehyung had stopped by your place before the party, checking up on you, seeing if you were feeling better. Maybe he had touched your cheek, checked your temperature, asked if you needed anything since you never missed an opportunity to go out drinking.

Maybe his hand had lowered from your face to your tummy, maybe he had traced your clothes until he got to touch your skin under your shirt. Maybe his fingers had sink under your panties, maybe he had whispered sweet things to you, telling you how he was going to come back later again, maybe he had touch you in ways Jungkook had only dreamed of. And maybe you had enjoyed every part of it, maybe you had given him that look Jungkook loved, that mischievous gaze, that narrowed gaze—

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jungkook hated his mind. He hated those thoughts. You enjoying yourself with another man, you touching him the same you did with him. You making those pretty sounds, opening your mouth, asking Taehyung to kiss you with that pretty pout. The thought made something ugly twist in his stomach, he wanted to throw up so bad. He felt sick, so sick thinking his friend had the luck to have you that way.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out.”

Jungkook frowned immediately when he heard his friend’s voice.

“Already?”

It slipped out before he could stop himself. Taehyung smiled. “Yeah, man. I’m tired.”

Right. Jungkook stared at him for a second, trying to decide whether he believed him or not. The party wasn’t even close to ending. People were still arriving, the music was loud. Taehyung had been there for only two hours. Half of their friends were barely on their second drink. Leaving now was weird, specially since he knew Taehyung was kind the guys who liked a good party. And that night it was damn good one. You just weren’t here.

You weren’t here.

“Oh.”

Taehyung nodded. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Yeah.”

A small silence followed after they hugged.

Jungkook hated how quickly his mind started working. Where was he going? Home? He didn’t think so. Maybe he was going to see you. That thought appeared so naturally it almost made him sick. You were always showing up in his mind like a fucking fly he couldn’t shake. That made him going insane. Maybe you had texted Taehyung, telling him you were still up, that missed him. Maybe you wanted to see him and that’s why he was leaving.

Well fucking finally Taehyung was doing something to keep you happy. But Jungkook hated it was now that he was doing it.

Jungkook forced a smile and watched Taehyung disappear into the crowd. Then he immediately grabbed his drink. He knew exactly what was happening… nothing. Absolutely nothing. His brain was making shit up, that was all. He didn’t care about it, he shouldn’t care about it. His friend was just going home to rest. He was tired, that was it.

But then ten minutes passed and his brain was still making shit up. Twenty minutes and still making shit up.

He tried talking to people, he really tried to focus on the party and being a good host. Some dancer was telling him a story about something that happened last rehearsal and Jungkook nodded along, pretending to listen while his mind wandered somewhere else entirely.

Taehyung was probably already at your apartment if he had gone to see you. He was probably sitting on your couch… or your bed. Maybe you had opened the door with that smile you always had when you were amused by something, happy to see him. You probably had told him you weren’t in the mood to go out because you wanted to spend the night with him instead. Maybe you had been waiting for Taehyung, laying in bed, needing someone that wasn’t him…

Jungkook took another drink and then a second one… Maybe Taehyung had finally asked you, that’s why he looked so relaxed. That’s why you probably were ignoring every single one of Jungkook’s messages. There was no reason to answer anymore, you had already made up your mind that Taehyung was yours and you only wanted him.

His grip tightened around the glass. How he hated that thought, he hated so much. The worst thing, it was just a thought. Jungkook didn’t know anymore and that was the problem. He didn’t know anything and somehow not knowing was driving him crazier than the truth ever could.

Thirty seven minutes later and that was all he lasted. Thirty seven miserable minutes before he grabbed his keys and walked outside of the stupid big ass bar to the way to his car. People called his name as he walked past them trying to engaged in some conversation, he didn’t even bother to be nice and pretended to care, he didn’t even spare a look. He just kept moving.

The music became quieter behind him as he pushed through the exit and stepped outside. The night air hit his face and it didn’t help how a little dizzy he felt after those drinks. Nothing was really helping that night but he didn’t give a fuck anymore. He was desperate. He didn’t call a cab or his driver, he just started the engine and drove.

Twenty five minutes later he was pulling into your building parking lot.

Maybe he was insane… no, he was definitely insane. Sitting in his car past midnight after being ignored for an entire week because he couldn’t stop thinking about you, becausethe possibility of Taehyung being upstairs was enough to make him leave his own party. He was insanely pathetic and just overall insane, very insane.

Jungkook grabbed his phone and dial your number, there was no answer. He tried a second time but absolutely nothing. His jaw clenched and he hit the steering wheel feeling so frustrated and miserable. He opened your chat and his fingers moved before he could think better of it.

Jungkook: i’m in ur parking lot

Jungkook: i’ll knock your door if ure not awake

The message sent and Jungkook’s heart kicked painfully against his ribs. Not even twenty seconds passed before the “seen” was showed in the chat.

After all those days and messages you finally had the decency to even let him know you’ve read his text.

Not even five minutes later Jungkook saw you walked to his car. You recognize his car almost immediately and he tried to quickly fix his face while you walked to him. You were wearing a big oversized shirt that covered big part of your thighs and he didn’t know but was mostly sure you had some shorts underneath. Your hair was really wavy and a little messy, you had a strong hold on your phone. You were clearly not ready to go out and you didn’t really look the most amicable ever.

You actually were furious.

The moment you opened the door and entered his car he knew you were furious. You didn’t give him room to talk, you just straight up looked at him mad as hell, closing the door really loud.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

That was the first and last thing Jungkook listened. His body immediately reacting to see you again after a long stupid week of not being this close to you. You were saying things, words he couldn’t really put together. He only watched you. You looked so pretty like that, your little frown and your flushed cheeks. He wanted to kiss you so bad. Your big shirt had rolled up a little bit showing your naked legs, he could see the beginning of your lace shorts. He wanted to touch your glowing skin, there was a little bruise hidden there he wanted to touch—

A bruise.

Jungkook immediately looked up at you again. His eyes scanning your face to examine you again. Your flushed face. It wasn’t because you were angry. Your lips were swollen, pink. Your eyes a little glossy. His eyes went lowered, your neck had a little mark right down your ear, something it could be immediately recognizable as a hickey. As someone who wanted to leave a mark. Leave it there to show you were from someone, that you belonged…

“Taehyung is upstairs?”

The question left his mouth before he could really process it. But honestly, he didn’t really care because he wanted to know. He needed to know, his hand immediately gripped the steering wheel, the thought of you with Taehyung just minutes ago made his heart beat faster and his blood boil in rage.

Was he even touching you the way you wanted?

“Wha— Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” You were mad. And he knew that his question only made it worse. “You need to stop whatever this behaviour is. I told you it was over—”

“Is it?”

You closed your mouth. A dead silence filled the car as you stared at him confused.

“What?”

“Is it over?”

“Yes,” you shook your head, a little taken aback. “Yes. No, no actually there’s nothing to be over because we never…”

“Don’t lie,” Jungkook chuckled but he wasn’t really having it. “Don’t lie. You can’t just lie to my face and tell me there was nothing because I know you feel—”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off, taking a deep breath and trying to hold yourself together.

“It’s just—”

“It’s over.” You said, more calmer than before. Not trying to fight anymore but making him understand. “Whatever we were doing… it was wrong. It needs to be over. Taehyung is your best friend and this is so fucked up.”

Jungkook looked at the window, thinking about your words. You were right. You were absolutely fucking right… But why? Why did it feel so good if it was wrong? Why did he had to stop? It was greedy, it was selfish. But he didn’t want to let you go just yet. He couldn’t shake the thought of you with him and he definitely didn’t want you with his friend.

So why? Why did he had to stop? Because of a moral thing? Fuck that. Jungkook would go to hell and live there a million years if it meant he could have you one more time.

“Then why does it feel so good?” Jungkook moved closer, his leg hit the gear stick but he still hovered you, looking directly at your eyes. “Tell me why every time I’m trying to be a fucking good friend and stay away I just keep thinking about you over and over again.” His hand positioned in your hip, fingers burying in your clothed skin. His face came closer but you didn’t look away. “I’m sorry but I really tried and I just— I can’t— I’m sorry, I can’t. I was— I’m sorry, I’m s’rry.”

Jungkook face dropped to your neck and you looked to the side trying to fight him a little. Jungkook felt so bad, trying to win some sympathy, some empathy for you to let him touch you. Because if playing the big man wasn’t working then begging had to, pity had to work. He just needed to touch you, he would do anything.

Anything you wanted, anything you let him do. Even if it was just watching you, even if it was just kissing you, he wanted to be close to you, he wanted to engrave every part of you in his mind. He wanted you so bad it made his head spin in so many wrong ways.

“Jungkook, this isn’t right.”

“I know— I’m sorry…” His lips found your neck, his tongue swirling over that mark someone else had left on you. He wanted to erase it, or make it worse, make it his. “Please just let me… Just this last time I swear I just—”

“Tae is upstairs.”

Jungkook stopped.

It took him a second before he moved his head from your neck to looked at you. You blinked at him a little uncomfortable, fighting really hard before his dark gaze. Jungkook felt his jaw tightened and his heart ache a little.

Why?

His gaze lowered to your legs, that little bruise you had in there. His hand immediately moved to there, opening your thighs to look at that stupid hickey that motherfucker left on your skin. His eyes moving to your core. That black lace short doing almost nothing to hide that little wet spot you had there. It fucked him a little knowing you weren’t soaked because of him. Fuck, that probably wasn’t even you.

“He touched you?”

“We fucked.”

You weren’t nice about it. You weren’t afraid of hurting his feelings— not like you knew he has some for you, not even he did— but he didn’t like the way your tone was hard, like you were letting him know exactly what had happened in hopes he would just move on from whatever little fixation he had over you.

Oh you should’ve know better.

“Did he touch you better than me?”

But Jungkook already knew you had a tongue made of fire.

“He fucked me.”

That was all you needed to say. Jungkook hadn’t fucked you, he wasn’t able to. He had dreamed of touching you in those places, he actually begged you to do it. But you never let him, you never let him go that far… but you did with Taehyung. You had let Taehyung fucked you. You had let him do the thing Jungkook wanted the most.

“Was he good?”

“You’re fucked up, Jungkook.”

He knows. He knew he shouldn’t be so upset about all this, but he is. He knew that he couldn’t ask you things like that but he does. Because he can’t stop himself to feel some control when he’s with you. You made his mind stop working and just focus on you.

And it’s with a sense of shame that he swallows his jealousy down and accepts he’ll do whatever it takes to show you he can fuck you better.

Whatever the fuck it takes.

In less than two seconds, Jungkook pulls the lever under your seat so he can push it back, giving him room to move between your legs until he’s kneeling there in that cramped little space; even so, he congratulates himself for bringing his big pickup truck instead of his sports car.

“What are you—?”

“I can do better, let me show you,” Jungkook said, dropping his head between your thighs. He kissed up your thighs, biting slightly without breaking eye contact. “Please”

“Taehyung just—”

“I don’t care,” Jungkook doesn’t want to know, he just wants to show you he was so much better. He wanted to keep your mind out of his friend’s presence. He wanted to show you he was so much better, you just needed to let him touch you for fucking once. You look troubled, at that made him see his opening. “Please, let me just taste you. I can be good. I’ll be so good for you just let me show you.” Jungkook got closer to your core, ghosting his lips over your heat and blinking up at you. “I swear, just this. Then I’ll behave. I— I can be so good. I swear I’ll be soo good to you.” He gave a gentle kiss to your thigh again and rubbed his thumbs, soothingly across your skin.

“You’ll behave?” your voice was lower. Your eyes narrowed, looking at him like you were already bored.

“Yes, yes, yes, please I—”

“You never behave, Jungkook. Just look at you, begging for something you shouldn’t have.”

“Please,” he said again, easing his hands up and down your thighs. Jungkook didn’t have any shame, not anymore. He would begged a thousand times if it meant you would let him buried his head between your legs.

You looked at him. At he finally found that spark in your eyes he saw the first time he kissed you in the back of his car.

Shit, he got you.

“Alright,” you finally opened your legs a little wider for him. “Lick me clean.”

Oh.

Jungkook was fucked in the head. He was sure of that, and he just confirmed that thought to himself when he realize he didn’t care cleaning you up if he meant he got the opportunity to taste you and touch you. He would do fucking anything.

And he didn’t give a fuck. He would clean Taehyung’s cum out of your pussy if he had to.

Jungkook immediately took your shorts off before he started licking your cunt over your panties, tongue working adamantly against you like he was scared to do it wrong or poorly. Fuck, he felt like had been waiting an eternity to have you again like that. His excitement going through the roof, cock getting hard so quickly.

Jungkook wrapped his lips around your clothed clit and sucked a little too hard. Swiping his tongue across your bud. He focused on pleasuring you, repeating any little action that made your legs twitch a little. He wanted to be more gentle and take his time, but he knew he only had that much with you before you were running away again.

So he quickly took off your panties, putting your feet over the seat so he could see your soaked pussy better. So wet and still leaking some of Taehyung’s cum. Jungkook hates that sight, he doesn’t want you dripping of someone else. So he makes his mission to lick you clean before making you full of himself.

You threw your head back on the car seat when you felt Jungkook lick a long strip from your leaking hole to your puffy clit, slurping and moaning into your slick skin, that cold piercing on the side of his mouth. rubbing your labia like so gently it made your toes curl.His hands grabbed onto each of your thighs to wrap them tightly around his head, gripping your legs until his rings left imprints in your skin. his warm tongue pressed deeper inside your cunt, sloppily lapping up the leftover mess inside of you.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, feeling his cock twitch under his pants. God, this was heaven, he could eat you for hours.

Your fingers curled into in his hair, grabbing it with strength before making him go deeper with his tongue. That pulled a moan from his mouth. “Mmh, yeah— use me” he slurred against your drenched folds.

Jungkook knew he was being dramatically loud eating you out. Loud whiny sound as he licked your puffy pussy, but he didn’t care. He loved the way you were pushing his head to your sensitive heat and practically begging for some more. Your back arched off the seat when he rolled his tongue around the bundle of nerves before sucking harshly.

“S-shit, Kook. Ngh, s’good. I’m gonna—”

He pulled away, replacing his mouth with his fingers rubbing quickly against you. “Not yet, baby. Have to get it all out.” Jungkook curled his fingers and scooped the rest of the cum in you out on his tongue.

Your next words trail off into a syrupy moan when you see his nasty doings. You body shuddering when his thick fingers stretch your gummy walls and you clenched tighter around them. His finger ran wildly over your clit, desperation oozing off of him.

“Jungkook—” You whined and he swallow that sound, so pretty. “S’close…” He immediately stopped. “No, no, no—”

Jungkook moved to be on top of you, pulling the other lever to make the seat dropped down until it hit the back seat. You lay there, watching him making his way on top of you to kiss you. His dirty fingers grabbing your jaw to guide the kiss, his tongue licking every part of your mouth so you could taste yourself and so he could engrave you in his mind.

“Wanna cum?”

“Mmmh.”

His free hand slid again between your legs. You were bare underneath and he loved how much easily he could just open you for himself. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself between your legs again, his big hard cock inside your pussy. He was salivating at that thought.

You whimpered, hips twitching as two thick fingers pushed inside you in one smooth motion. The stretch made you gasp, your walls still tender and sensitive from what you were doing upstairs with his best friend. Jungkook curled his fingers slowly, stroking that spongy spot deep inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, firm circles. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark next to the one you already had, teeth grazing your skin as he worked you open.

He wished Taehyung found it after. He really hoped he did. Maybe he would let you go and Jungkook could finally have you all to himself.

His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filling the car. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure even as your thighs shook. Jungkook tried not to smirk, eyes gleaming with lust as he watched you squirm.

He brought his glistening fingers up between you, holding them in front of your face so you could see how wet they were, coated in your slick right up to his knuckles. “Open,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

“Mmh,” you obeyed, parting your lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself as you sucked them clean, tongue swirling around them obediently. His eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he watched you.

“You can tell me I’m fucked,” Jungkook said, voice too low against your throat. “But we both know the truth. You’re the same as me. You like when I touch you like this. When I have you to myself.” He bite down lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue. “Let me touch you properly now. I swear I’ll do good for you.” He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and leaned in, kissing you deeply, tasting you again.

You gazed at him, too fucked up to even think properly. But even like that you had rejected him before, and he’s afraid you will do it again so he kisses you dumb again. Mouth eating yours before he’s opening more your legs to positioned himself better between them.

Jungkook can’t wait to be inside you. He can’t wait to see how you feel. Fuck, he didn’t want you to think, he only wanted you to feel him, to let him show you how good he could be for you, how once he can have you he will never let you go again.

One time. One time his ass. If you were willing to open your pretty legs for him and having him pushing his cock inside you he was never getting over you. He wondered if he’ll get to hear any new noises from you or if he’ll feel your body tremble and quake in different ways. He liked to imagine your cunt sucking him in so deep, just begging for his load, His cock twitched with excitement at those thoughts.

He doesn’t give you more time to think or talk and before you know it he’s already unbuckling his jeans and pushing them down with his underwear. His thick cock jumping and hitting his abs, hard and the head already leaking, begging for you.

And a second latter he’s pushing your legs up and folding your knees toward your chest. The position left you completely exposed and he starts rubbing the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating every thick inch in your slick. He teased your swollen clit with every slow pass, tapping it lightly until your hips jerked and you let out a needy whimper.

He could come from just that, he’s so sure of that. But doesn’t want to, he needs to stay stronger, a little more, just for you, he just wants to be inside you so bad. He wants to cry at that. He already has the speech for you to let him fuck you. Jungkook swears he can be perfect, he’ll fuck you the way you wanted. He’ll do everything and more. He could overstimulate himself if you don’t have enough. He’ll keep you full, ready to be fucked again and again as much as you want.

Hitching one of your legs up and over his hip, Jungkook planted a hand beside your head as he took the lead, rocking his hips between your thighs, watching his cock pump between your swollen pussy lips. He hummed in satisfaction, cock kicking as your eyelashes fluttered, eyes rolling back as he maintained that pace.

“Feel s’good,” Jungkook moaned in your mouth, kissing your lips softly like he wanted you to remember every touch of his. “Can I put it— Let me— please just let me— I swear I can be good…”

Jungkook couldn’t form a coherent phrase, cock feeling too good rubbing against you. But fuck he was dying to be inside you.

And there was a shift. You pushed him slightly, hands making him pulled apart as you rolled slightly to give him space.

“Let me be on top.”

Jungkook could come from just that.

In less than a second he’s lying down in the seat while you get on top of him, legs on each side of his hips before you start grinding down on his cock again. Jungkook’s hips buck up to meet your grinds, moans falling from both of you as your clit bumps against his tip. You parted your legs wider and rubbed down again and again, breath growing choppy and voiceless with every roll of your bundle of nerves over his cock head.

And then he feels himself short-circuiting. When you grabbed his cock to jerk it off before aligning to your entrance. He felt like he could cry.

Holy shit.

You were letting him, you were finally letting him be inside you. You got his tip inside you, and he was already gathering his breath trying not to burst from the feeling. He was going to come so fast it was almost embarrassing.

You slowly move and Jungkook starts making more noise than you do as you sink onto him. Jungkook closed his eyes, thinking how that’s everything he had dreamed of since the first time you kissed him. And instead of making him relaxed and feel fulfilled it just makes him go more feral and insane. It leaves whimpering and eyes watering at the thought that it was perfect. He had wanted this for so long, wanted you for so long. He couldn’t believe he’s finally getting you

And you stay bottomed out for a minute, letting yourself get used to the stretch, grinding your hips every now and then to hear him whine. You liked his little sounds, he noticed that by the way you get fucking. tighter around him. And that makes him feel better because he wants to show you how bad he wants you. how pathetic he is for you.

“P-please, I— please just, mmh, move for me.” He begged desperately. He held your hips, firm and strong, groaning when you get impossibly tighter around him for a second. “Holy shit, fuck. Mmh, fuck.”

You started moving, getting needier for your release. Jungkook kept whining as you bounce on his cock, throwing his head back and dropping his mouth open. He felt in fucking heaven. This must be it. He could just die right there and he would go happily. He didn’t need more in life. Blinded by the pleasure for a second, he thought he saw his entire future with you where he got to have you like that but not more sneaky around, fully his, fully able to kiss you and touch you in any place and room he wanted.

He could only dream that much when reality hit so hard. But at least he could show you, he could show you how good he was and how he could give you everything you asked. He could do anything for you.

Maybe you weren’t really his but he felt closer to you than ever. It excited him knowing that he finally got his way with you. All the thoughts running through his mind begged him to make you feel good, to give you exactly what you want for letting him have you, for giving him exactly what he wanted too. You.

Grabbing handfuls off your ass, he used it as leverage to ground you down on his cock and after that you could barely keep up. Hands gripping at his shoulders, nails trying not to leave a mark. Jungkook kissed you again, this time moving his hips up to meet yours until he find the perfect spot and pace to keep you moaning so sweetly for him.

Jungkook finally knew what true desperation felt like. He wanted nothing more in the world to make you feel good and make himself feel useful to you. No other feeling has he experienced so strongly as the need to have you cumming undone on his cock

You gasped when you felt his fingers on your clit, playing with the bud with endless need. Even when he bit his lip, some small noises kept spilling out of him. He just couldn’t hide how much he wanted you.

He started pulling out slowly with his mouth on yours, letting his cock drag through your walls and memorizing every inch. He eased himself back in, drinking up your noises eagerly before slapping his hips hard against yours, earning a delicious moan from you that has his mouth dropping open in awe, throwing his head back to the seat, fighting to not cry from pleasure. He could devour you whole right now. He was willing to spent an eternity deep inside you like that if you only let him.

“S’close, Jungkook,” You whined his name. “Fuck, s’good I’m gonna cum—”

“Fuck, p-please, yes, please. Yes, come for me. Make a mess for me, baby.” He started rubbing your clit faster, angrily. “Nghh, I’ll lick it clean again. Don’t worry— just-just make a mess for me. Cream on my cock.”

Jungkook felt your walls squeezing him harder. He moaned in your neck, you were sucking him so hard it was too much. He pinched your clit desperately, helping you find your release. And with that it didn’t take you too long.

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, your nails scrapped his shoulder, your mouth parting to moan loudly near his ear. You closed your eyes, walls closing so hard and your juices coating his cock. Your vision went blurry, your breathing uneven. Your thighs burning like hell. You broke apart in his arms and Jungkook was only able to last one second longer after seeing the way you creamed all over him.

Nothing will ever be the same ever again.

Jungkook’s cock twitched inside you with one last thrust. His eyes rolled back, his hands gripping your skin as he heard your whimper. That hit his final straw. His forehead hit your shoulder as he felt succumbing to the sweet release. He came undone, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy cunt and spurting down onto your thighs.

He didn’t stop though, he continued moving his hips until his thighs muscles started shaking and his dick started twitching inside you. He wanted to keep him cum inside you, he wanted you full of his. He wanted you so full nobody could clean you from all the mess he made inside you.

Tears started forming in his eyes from overstimulation as he didn’t want the moment to end. It was you who finally dropped all your weight over him to make him stop completely.

Jungkook held you in his arms. He pressed some kisses against your neck as your head rested on his shoulder, completely fucking exhausted. And he knew he’ll never be the same after this. He’ll touch himself for the rest of his life remembering that exact moment.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“Taehyung asked me to be his girlfriend.”

Maybe he was wrong, you could belong to Taehyung.

—————————————————

ngl i didn’t edit shit but i literally changed most of the plot for this part and added that last part of them fucking cause it just felt like the right time<3 so if u see any mistakes well yes that happens >_< anyway i think i can actually close the story here but lowkey i do wanna write one last part just to really make an ending hehe but we’ll see

same time next year?

taglist: @bhonbhon @nctma15 @songbyeonkim @mrspotatas @kae143 @ttanniett @emmie2308 @rrosiitas @kooklovesu @sublimeoperapatrolpickle @haru-jiminn @inhoswifee @hennessysthings @zzzdr @kookieouch @jk97bam @gcfseouls @suavaecitas-blog @gaby-93 @mysteriousgeminizone @wishicouldmeethoseok @topforsure @sugaholicddict93 @mortqlprojections @army7-013 @girlyminmin03 @gucci-soo @lachesismoonmist @laylay7ot @freakingsad @cherrysoulthreblogs @kissyfacekoo @bangzlut @mariporaqui @soju4shi @sigxx123 @melanymeeli @jjklvrapobangpo7 @gebsaxx @cherryminnie95 @curiouslykeenvanguard @kg0626 @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @baby-girl-spooks @iviesstuff

(this taglsit was before i did my perm taglist so if i tagged u 2 times sorry im just too lazy to check>_<)

[ggukiebar]

sacred desire | j.jk

pairing: priest jungkook x sinful reader

word count: 20.6k

genre: smut

summary: desperate to see if a man devoted to god will unravel, you test his faith with your sweet, deceptive innocence—seducing fr. jeon until his devotion no longer belongs to god…but to you.

warnings: priest jungkook x sinful reader, explicit sexual content, forbidden relationship, candle wax play, rosary choking, edging, clit rubbing, filthy sexual desires, spitting, degradation, mock sympathy, pussy eating, condescending dirty talk, blow job, cum eating, usage of whore & slut, praising, cum eating, m. masturbation, manipulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Temptation, they said, was the devil's favorite weapon…subtle, patient, and often disguised as something beautiful.

Your beauty was the kind that invited sin. Like a priceless painting in a museum, admired by many but forbidden to touch, existing only to test the restraint of those who stood before it.

Yet despite the effect you seemed to have on everyone else, Fr. Jeon remained frustratingly untouched by it all. Men had always looked twice, their attention lingering long enough to make their interest known. But his eyes never lingered on you. They would meet yours for a fleeting moment before moving on, calm and unwavering, carrying the same gentle warmth they offered every soul that walked through the church doors.

Pathetic.

Wearing a long white virginal skirt, a matching conservative blouse, and your hair falling neatly down your waist, you grabbed your purse before heading downstairs to meet Sana.

“Glad you finally wore something decent,” Sana commented with a sheepish smile when she saw you stepping out of your house.

You pouted, looking down at the modest skirt fluttering around your ankles. “My cute dresses are decent too, you know.”

You weren’t a very religious person, but when your friend Sana told you she wanted to join the church choir, you were more than happy to come with her. 

Between the two of you, she was the religious one—always carrying a small pocket bible in her purse, always reminding you to watch your words and actions because God was watching.

A lot of your friends were confused about how the two of you became so close. You were playful, rebellious, and bratty—more of a bad influence beside someone so polite and devout. But despite your mischievous nature, you were very sweet, friendly and charming. At university, you were one of the popular students, with plenty of friends and a reputation as a social butterfly.

When you first met Sana, you hadn’t expected the two of you to get along. She was a new student, still adjusting to the unfamiliar environment and trying to find her place among the other students. Being the friendly social butterfly that you were, you became the first person to approach her.

Your personalities couldn’t have been more different. Sana was calm, reserved, and quiet, while you were bold, bright, and loud. 

Despite being complete opposites, the two of you grew unexpectedly close. You liked Sana because she was a breath of fresh air. Her calmness grounded the chaos within you, while your playfulness brought balance and excitement to her peaceful life.

Ever since you became best friends, you often accompanied her to church. Although you looked somewhat out of place trailing behind her while she helped with various church duties, volunteer work, and parish activities...you still enjoyed spending time with her.

You liked how she always listened to your rants and endless rambles. Following her around while she busied herself carrying boxes and helping wherever she could, your kitten heels clicked softly against the church’s marbled floors, and the longest dress you could find in your closet swayed gently with every step. As unusual as it felt to be dressed so modestly, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed these moments with Sana.

Your usual style of dressing didn’t exactly align with the church’s dress code… you had to trade your short skirts, midriff-baring tops, tight dresses, and cute spaghetti-strap tops for something more... demure.

At first, you tried to argue against it, but Sana quickly reminded you that those clothes weren’t appropriate for church. And of course, you had no choice but to listen unless you wanted another lecture about being a poor instrument of the Lord.

“Since when did you become a singer?” you teased as the two of you entered the church alongside a few parishioners and choir members.

Sana was dressed similarly to you, wearing a long skirt paired with a flowy long-sleeved blouse. In her right hand, she carried a small booklet filled with choir songs.

She pouted. “I can sing a bit, you know.” she opened the booklet and flipped through its pages. “As long as I’m serving the Lord, then no voice shall sound bad.”

You chuckled, already accustomed to her holy little remarks.

“If you say so,” you sang back playfully, following her up to the choir loft. You offered a polite smile to the other choir members, who were already busy practicing.

Since you weren’t actually there to join the choir, you let Sana focus on rehearsal while you wandered around the church on your own. Normally, you would have spent the entire time chatting her ear off, rambling about anything and everything, but today you let her concentrate.

A few parishioners were arranging fresh flowers around the framed images of saints, while others carefully dusted and polished the statues lining the church walls. The distant voices of the choir drifted through the air, blending with the soft murmur of prayers and quiet conversations, creating a peaceful atmosphere that settled gently around you.

When Sana first invited you to come with her to church, you had agreed out of nothing more than curiosity. You traded your usual weekend night outs for sunday mass, wanting to see the world through her eyes and understand why this place, with its quiet prayers and solemn rituals, meant so much to her.

The church offered a kind of quiet that rarely existed in your everyday life. Away from crowded parties, endless conversations, and the glittering chaos of your social circle, there was something unexpectedly comforting about this place. It gave you a chance to slow down, to breathe, and to simply exist without needing to be the loudest person in the room.

“Good morning, Fr. Jeon.” a few choir members and parishioners greeted.

You turned around absentmindedly, your head tilting curiously when you saw a priest entering through one of the church's side doors. Dressed in a long black cassock, he offered everyone a warm smile and a slight bow as he stepped inside.

A new priest?

“Are you here for the charity blessing, Fr. Jeon?” someone asked.

The woman approached him and received a gentle pat on the head in return.

He smiled. “Yes, I stopped by to gather a few materials for the blessing.”

Your head tilted slightly as you watched him, finding yourself taking an unconscious step forward.

A handsome fucking priest.

For the past few months that you'd been spending time at the church with Sana, this was the first time you'd seen him, and unfortunately for your soul, he was ridiculously attractive. 

You found yourself shamelessly staring, almost in awe as he greeted everyone with effortless kindness. 

He bowed politely, acknowledged each person with a warm smile, and listened attentively whenever someone spoke to him. It should've been a crime for a priest to be that good-looking. 

Sinful.

The long black cassock he wore looked attractively sinful wrapped around someone so impossibly holy, the stark contrast only making him harder to ignore. His sharp jawline became more pronounced whenever he turned to greet someone with a kind smile, and a pair of thin-framed glasses rested neatly on his nose, lending him an air of quiet intelligence that did absolutely nothing to help your situation. His eyes were dark and warm behind the lenses, attentive whenever he listened to someone speak, and his jet-black hair was styled neatly, though a few stubborn strands had fallen across his forehead. 

Everything about him looked composed, dignified, and entirely inappropriate for the thoughts currently running through your head.

You almost let out a dramatic gasp when Fr. Jeon finally waved his goodbye and turned to leave. A curse nearly slipped from your lips as you watched him make his way toward the church doors. 

Everyone else had managed to greet him and earn one of his warm smiles, some even receiving a fond pat on the head. Meanwhile, you had spent the entire time standing near the altar, staring at him like an absolute creep, too mesmerized by his existence.

Internally rolling your eyes at yourself and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, you watched him disappear through the church doors. And then, because apparently your dignity had already left the building before he did, you immediately made your way back to Sana, who was still busy practicing her choir lines.

“So...” you began, trailing behind Sana as she walked around with her booklet, quietly memorizing her choir pieces.

“Is Fr. Jeon a real priest?”

Sana lowered the booklet and stared at you, her brows knitting together as she caught the suspicious wiggle of your eyebrows.

“Huh?”

“I mean...” you hesitated. “Is he a real priest or, like… an intern priest?”

The moment the words left your mouth, you realized how stupid they sounded. 

Was there even such a thing as a priest internship?

Sana blinked. Then she burst out laughing. “He's a real priest, Y/N. What do you mean, intern priest?”

Your cheeks immediately warmed. You looked away while she continued laughing, lifting the booklet back up as you followed after her.

You pouted. “Well... he looks young.” And hot. “And I've never seen him before. Every time I've attended mass with you, he wasn't the presider.”

You tried to think back to the past few months but came up empty. No handsome priests. Because if there had been one, you definitely would've remembered.

In fact, you were pretty sure you would've started sitting in the front row.

“Yeah, because he only got appointed recently,” Sana answered, her attention back on the booklet. “A few months ago, I think.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, almost groaning when you haven’t met him before he got appointed. 

What the fuck, Y/N. Are you seriously eyeing a priest?

Absolutely not. That was...unholy!

For the following weeks, you found yourself clinging to Sana more than usual.

At first, you convinced yourself it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Going to church with her wasn't exactly new. 

You just weren't nearly as consistent as she was.

There were plenty of sundays you skipped altogether, choosing late nights with your friends over early mornings in church. Besides, you figured there would always be another mass to attend, while convincing Sana to show up at one of your parties was practically impossible.

That was why you never attended as regularly as she did.

Lately, however, the situation seemed to have reversed. Now, you were the one volunteering to come.

Party invitations sat unanswered in your messages. Night outs were declined without hesitation. Instead, you found yourself asking Sana about choir practice, church activities, and whether she planned on volunteering for any upcoming events.

It was becoming a little concerning.

Wearing one of your now-usual long skirts and a modest blouse approved by church standards, you applied an extra layer of lip gloss in front of your mirror. Excitement bubbled inside you as you remembered what Sana had told you earlier that week—a charity event was coming up, and the church needed volunteers to help organize donations.

There had been plenty of charity events before, many of which you had skipped. Sana would usually spend the entire day helping sort donations and assisting the parishioners, leaving little time for the two of you to actually spend together. As much as you enjoyed tagging along with her, wandering around the church by yourself for hours wasn't exactly appealing.

This time, however, you were genuinely excited to come.

It wasn't as though you couldn't visit the church on your own. Nobody would stop you if you decided to drop by one afternoon.

The problem was that it would be… strange.

Ever since you started coming to church, it had always been because of Sana. Everyone knew you as her friend, not as someone particularly devoted to the church.

If you suddenly started showing up by yourself every weekend, people would notice. You weren't exactly known for your devotion. 

Especially when the answer involved a certain priest.

It was already strange enough that you were beginning to resemble a devoted Christian.

False piety.

When you arrived at the church, your heartbeat picked up immediately. Volunteers moved in and out of the building carrying boxes and supplies, conversations blending into a lively hum that filled the grounds.

“You can help with the boxes, Y/N. I'll just talk to the choir members,” Sana said with a smile.

You nodded a little too eagerly, grateful she didn’t question your sudden burst of interest in coming with her to church. It helped that you had accompanied her before—enough for it to not feel completely out of the blue.

“Okay! I'll help with the boxes!” you smiled brightly.

The moment Sana wandered off to join the other choir members, you immediately began looking around for ways to help.

“Let me carry those,” you offered with a bright smile, reaching for a volunteer struggling with a stack of old toy boxes meant for donation.

The woman thanked you and asked if you could bring them outside, where a small truck was parked to collect everything.

You happily agreed.

“I hope he comes today,” you muttered under your breath as you carried the boxes toward the truck, your eyes drifting toward the church entrance every few seconds.

According to Sana, Fr. Jeon frequently stopped by to check on donation drives, visit the parish office, or help coordinate volunteer work.

You had already carried nine boxes, then… ten. With every trip back and forth, you found yourself slowly losing hope that Fr. Jeon would show up at all. You were starting to regret wearing your cutest pink skirt today, and the growing disappointment was beginning to settle in alongside your irritation.

Just as you were about to accept that all your effort had been wasted, Fr. Jeon finally appeared, walking into the church hall.

Your eyes widened.

“Fuck—” you immediately winced, biting your lip the moment the word escaped. Mentally apologizing for cursing inside the church.

With a fresh box of donations balanced in your arms, you hurried toward the entrance, trying your best to look useful, helpful and responsible. Like the kind of person who volunteered here regularly and wasn't secretly waiting for your handsome priest to show up.

Your heart hammered against your ribs when he finally glanced in your direction.

“Good day,” he greeted with a smile and a polite nod, raising his right hand to gently pat your head.

Your cheeks immediately flushed, almost dropping the boxes when he touched you.

He patted my head!

Today, he was dressed in a fitted black long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into black slacks, a simple brown cross necklace resting against his chest. His jet-black hair was styled neatly away from his face, exposing a heart-shaped forehead that made him look unfairly handsome. He wore his usual pair of glasses, the thin frames resting on the bridge of his nose and softening the sharpness of his features. Behind the lenses, his round eyes looked steady and attentive, always observant, as if he noticed everything without ever needing to say so. 

Goodness gracious.

Your gaze drifted lower, almost shamelessly staring…only to pause on his right hand.

You frowned slightly, you wanted to take a longer look, but his sleeves hid the rest of his arms from view, making it impossible to tell how far they extended.

Was that a tattoo?

For some reason, that discovery stunned you more than it should have. Priests and tattoos weren't exactly a combination you'd ever imagined together.

You were so distracted staring at his hand that you didn't realize he had already walked past you and moved on to greet the other volunteers.

You didn't even greet him back! Oh God.

Panic immediately settled in your chest. Adjusting your grip on the donation box, you hurried after him, determined to salvage the interaction somehow. You just needed a reason to talk to him. 

A simple religious question, maybe?

Unfortunately, your brain had chosen this exact moment to stop working.

You couldn't exactly walk up to him and ask if priests were allowed to have tattoos. Nor could you suddenly start quoting bible verses when the majority of your religious knowledge came from Sana lecturing you every other week.

You wanted to sound natural and virginal.

The problem was that you had absolutely no idea how to start a holy conversation without sounding fake about it, like you were trying too hard to be someone you weren’t.

When you saw him entering the church office, you frowned and stomped your foot against the floor in irritation.

Pity.

You were a bit disappointed when his gaze didn’t even linger on you. You were used to boys in college always noticing you…showing their interest, getting swayed by your pretty face and charming personality. But here, inside the church, you were nothing more than another kind volunteer in his eyes—someone he greeted with the same calm respect he gave everyone else.

Importunate.

At this point, it had become a routine. You would come to church with Sana after school, grateful she had joined the choir because it gave you an excuse to be there almost every day instead of only on weekends.

While she attended rehearsals, you spent your afternoons helping with volunteer work and assisting the parishioners...all while discreetly searching the church grounds for your future boyfriend.

You even started dressing for it—slipping into the most “virginal” outfits your closet could offer in hopes of blending in. Long skirts, conservative blouses, dresses that covered everything they possibly could. It was almost laughable how much effort you put into looking like the perfect church girl, when a few months ago you would’ve rather died than be seen in half of these outfits.

The worst part was that it wasn't even guaranteed to work.

There were days when your timing simply didn't align. You would arrive at the church only to hear that Fr. Jeon had already stopped by earlier, or spend the afternoon helping around the parish before finding out he had come and gone while you were busy elsewhere. Sometimes you would leave just before he arrived, missing him by mere minutes.

You would come home without seeing even a glimpse of him, staring at your ceiling later that night and wondering why you felt so deflated over someone you barely knew. 

Then there were the good days—when your schedules happened to align and you finally saw him. Your eyes would immediately light up the moment you spotted him across the church grounds, your smile growing brighter despite your attempts to act normal, your cheeks burning whenever he greeted you with that gentle smile and absentminded pat on the head.

Transgression.

At first, seeing him had been enough. Now, however, you found yourself expecting more. Not much...just a conversation that lasted longer than a few seconds. Something beyond charity drives, donation boxes, retreats, and volunteer work.

But Fr. Jeon was frustratingly...polite.

He greeted everyone with the same kindness, smiled at everyone with the same warmth, and spoke to everyone with the same respectful attentiveness. Whenever you managed to stand near him long enough for a conversation, he would ask about the charity, the donations, the volunteers, or whatever church event happened to be coming up next. 

The discussion always remained firmly within the boundaries of church matters, and before you knew it, he would excuse himself to continue helping elsewhere.

You couldn't even ask him anything personal. Every question that came to mind sounded ridiculous the moment you imagined saying it out loud. Are those tattoos real? How old are you? Why are you so handsome for a priest? 

None of them exactly sounded appropriate for church conversation.

So you remained stuck in this strange little cycle of yours, coming to church almost everyday with hopes far bigger than the interactions you actually received. And despite how ridiculous it felt, despite how much you scolded yourself for it, the highlight of your day was still that brief smile and the weight of his hand resting atop your head for a few seconds.

Shameful.

A shame that you had never actually talked to him. 

Not beyond a few good afternoons exchanged in passing and the occasional greeting whenever your paths crossed around the church. 

You didn't want to be too bold, afraid that he would notice your embarrassingly obvious attempts to get his attention. As someone who wasn't particularly religious, you found yourself in an absurd predicament. 

Should you start reading the bible? Memorize a few scriptures? Learn enough about church teachings to hold an intelligent conversation with him? 

The fact that you were even considering studying scripture just to impress a priest made you question every life decision that had led you to this point.

You wanted his eyes to linger on you. Wanted him to look at you a little longer than everyone else. Wanted to feel special in some way. But every time your gaze met his, he would simply smile and move on, his attention never staying in one place for too long. 

Sometimes you wondered if the only thing capable of holding his complete devotion was God himself.

Which was unfortunate for you. Because you were used to being noticed.

You were pretty, and you knew it. Attention had always come easily to you, yet the one man whose attention you wanted most remained completely out of reach.

A man who was distant, unattainable, and forbidden in every possible sense of the word.

Standing in front of your mirror that afternoon, you smoothed down your floral dress and examined your reflection one last time. The modest dress fell neatly against your figure, paired with white kitten heels that made you look far more innocent than you actually were. You dabbed a little extra blush onto your cheeks before adding a touch more glitter to your eyelids, your excitement growing as you remembered what Sana had told you earlier that week.

Fr. Jeon would be presiding over today's mass.

It would be the first mass of his that you would be attending, and as you stared at yourself in the mirror, unable to stop smiling, you realized your excitement felt dangerously close to the kind of anticipation one would have before a date.

Sana had noticed that you were coming with her far more often nowadays, but being as naive and obedient as she was, she only took it as a good sign. In her eyes, your heart was simply getting closer to God, closer to faith, closer to something pure and meaningful.

Closer to Fr. Jeon, rather.

“You look excited,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling when you mentioned wanting to sit in the front row. The thought only made her happier, convinced that your devotion was finally deepening in the way she had always hoped for you.

Oh, you were devoted. 

“Excited for the Mass, you know,” you replied with a small giggle, clasping your hands together as if to sell the image. “Wonder what bible chapter will be discussed today.”

Of course you were gonna listen, be a good little church girl and have your eyes and attention to him.

Your eyes were practically shining when you stepped into the church, making a beeline for the front row without hesitation. You sat down shamelessly, smoothing your skirt as if you had done this every sunday of your life.

Sana only smiled at your eagerness, completely oblivious to the fact that your decision had nothing to do with spiritual focus and everything to do with proximity. Sitting at the front felt less like devotion and more like VIP seating for the sole purpose of seeing Fr. Jeon up close.

When the bell finally rang, the entire church rose to its feet. Your heart kicked up immediately as the sacristans entered in procession, one of them carrying a smoking thurible that swung gently with each step. And right at the center of it all was him.

Your future boyfriend.

Your lips parted slightly, eyes widening as Fr. Jeon walked slowly down the nave with calm, deliberate steps. His hands were clasped together in front of him in prayer, and he wore the full liturgical vestments—a long white linen robe beneath a green chasuble, a thin stole draped over his shoulders, and a cincture tied neatly at his waist. The fabric moved softly as he walked, making him look almost unreal under the church lights, like something out of a painting you weren’t supposed to stare at for too long.

He greeted people with gentle smiles along the way, bowing his head politely, even pausing to pat a few children on the head as he passed the pews.

By the time he reached the altar, your attention was fully locked in. 

Disingenuous.

You nodded a little too eagerly when responses were required, your voice coming out brighter than necessary during the choir parts, as if enthusiasm alone could prove your devotion. Every time he spoke, your focus sharpened, hanging onto his words a little too intently, even when you were supposed to be blending in with the rest of the congregation.

He was wearing his usual pair of glasses, slowly turning the pages of the bible with precise, practiced movements. His voice was steady and clear as he read, each word delivered with a calm authority that made it clear this role suited him completely. There was nothing rushed about him, nothing uncertain.. only a quiet certainty in the way he stood at the altar, as if it had always belonged to him.

By now, you had started mirroring him without even realizing it. Whenever he closed his eyes to say the prayers, you would close yours too, hands folded a little tighter than necessary, breathing in sync with the rhythm of the mass.

You were fucking crazy.

When it was time for the holy communion, you stood up almost too quickly, your heart thudding loudly in your chest as you joined the line forming in the aisle. Each step forward felt heavier than it should have, not because of the sacrament itself, but because of who was waiting near the altar.

“Are you alright?” Sana commented quietly when she noticed your flushed expression after the bell rang.

You let out a small, awkward laugh and instinctively smoothed down your long hair, trying to compose yourself. “Just thinking about my prayers,” you said lightly, as if that explanation made any sense at all.

She gasped, like you were really serious about your prayers, when all you could think about was—

He’s gonna feed me the host!

You were almost sweating as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the moment inch closer with every step in the line. Sana’s voice was still beside you, something about God always listening and having faith in his timing, but her words barely registered anymore. Your mind was elsewhere entirely, stuck on the growing realization that you were seconds away from facing him directly.

Preparing your hands in a prayer position, your brain almost short-circuited when you finally faced him, his right tatted hand holding the host up for you.

“The Body of Christ,” he said in a soft tone, almost detached in its reverence.

You wanted him to recognize you—the obedient good girl who always volunteered at the church. But fuck, he was too absorbed in God and the communion.

Your lips parted. “Amen…”

When he finally fed you the host, you almost choked when you felt the slight, accidental brush of his index finger against your lips as he withdrew his hand. You were left completely flustered, while he remained composed and focused on the ritual, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on you.

To you, it felt intimate. 

To him, it was simply the Eucharist…a sacred duty, a practiced motion repeated countless times.

When you returned to your seat and lowered yourself to kneel again, you pressed your hands together a little too tightly. In your head, you immediately apologized to God for every impure thought, questionable intention, and shameless moment you had done.

Then, without even a full second of self-reflection, you proceeded to ask if he could somehow let you be a little closer to Fr. Jeon.

Your priorities were clearly a work in progress.

“Sana, are you gonna visit the church this week?” you asked with a small smile, falling into your usual habit of checking with her.

For the past few weeks, your afternoons and weekends had quietly reshaped themselves around her schedule. 

It had become something strangely comforting… helping wherever you could, spending hours in a place that once felt unfamiliar but was now slowly turning into routine.

But of course, you couldn’t deny that recently, there was another reason woven into it too.

“Nope,” Sana replied as she hugged her books closer to her chest. “I have to study this week. Finals are coming up, and I still have a chemistry exam to review for before vacation starts.”

You groaned softly and walked beside her as the two of you left the campus. “Then why don’t we just stop by for a bit? To pray for good grades?” you suggested, lifting a brow as if it was the most logical solution in the world.

Please. Please. Please agree with me.

Sana pouted, clearly considering it for a moment, and your heart almost stopped in anticipation. Then she shook her head slowly, and your excitement deflated instantly.

“You’re right,” she said gently, “but it’s a long test, Y/N. I need to review all week. God would understand.”

She smiled softly and slipped her arm through yours. “Let’s just pray at home and do the rosary before reviewing.”

You forced a small smile, though your shoulders sagged slightly at the realization. It wasn’t just a missed church visit—it was a missed chance, even if you kept telling yourself it wasn’t supposed to be about that.

Sure, you would probably still see Fr. Jeon at sunday mass. He was the new presider in the city now, after all.

But it still wasn’t the same.

You almost groaned when you found yourself at the church that saturday morning. You were wearing a cream-colored dress, kitten heels, and a rosary necklace you had recently bought for the sole purpose of impressing Fr. Jeon. You had no idea whether he would even notice it, but in your mind, it felt like the kind of thing a good church girl would wear.

Preposterous.

Sashaying your way inside, you took in the usual parishioners and volunteers already busy arranging boxes for the charity drive.

You bit your lip. This was your first time visiting the church without Sana. Still, as you walked in, you were relieved when a few volunteers recognized you.

Thank God and all the saints.

You smiled and bent down to help with the boxes, already familiar with the routine—carrying them to the truck, sorting old clothes and toys, or helping with the lists.

If any of your uni friends saw you here alone, they would be completely confused. Without Sana, your sudden appearance at church would make absolutely no sense.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon.” someone greeted, and your ears immediately perked up. You turned just in time to see him entering the church halls in his usual black long sleeves and slacks.

You were only on your third box today! He was early!

Your lips curled into a small, excited smile as you instinctively stepped closer, box still in hand, already anticipating the familiar greeting and gentle pat on the head.

“Good day,” he said as expected, offering a polite nod before his hand lifted to pat your head.

Your eyelashes fluttered.

But instead of letting him move on to greet the others…for the first time in the past few weeks, you actually gathered the courage to stop him.

“Uh, Fr. Jeon?” you called softly just as he was about to turn away.

He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Yes, sweetheart?”

Jesus– God in heaven.

Your cheeks instantly reddened at the nickname, fingers tightening around the box. Still, you forced yourself to breathe, and finally blurted out the question you had been rehearsing all night.

“Just wondering if you have any c-chapter recommendations? I’m currently reading the bible and I don’t know where to start,” you said shyly.

There was a brief flicker of pleasant surprise on his face, quietly impressed that you were asking about the bible in the first place. It wasn't often that someone approached him with genuine curiosity about scripture.

He was about to answer when, suddenly…his attention shifted.

His gaze drifted downward, landing on the rosary hanging around your neck—the small cross resting between your breasts.

His lips pursed. “Sweetheart…rosaries are not meant to be worn as necklaces,” he chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on the rosary before looking back at you.

Your eyes widened. “I-It’s not…?” you asked, your ears and neck already heating in embarrassment.

Fuck. You didn’t know that! 

Fr. Jeon exhaled gently. “It’s a prayer tool,” he explained, his tone patient and calm. “Meant to be held in the hands… used in prayer, not displayed like jewelry.”

You blinked. “I-I didn’t know,” you admitted quickly, almost defensively. “I just really… like rosaries.”

Deception.

Fr. Jeon sighed softly, then lifted a hand to gently pat your head. “It’s okay…if you want, you can still wear rosary bracelets.” he offered you a small, reassuring smile.

You almost melted at his kindness. “R-Right, that would be better,” you said shyly, barely keeping yourself together.

He chuckled softly at your reaction, adjusting his glasses before finally returning to your original question. “If you’re reading the bible,” he added at last, “start with the gospels. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.”

You nodded quickly, smiling up at him as he returned a warm, genuine smile of his own.

“Noted, Fr. Jeon.” you smiled, unconsciously stepping a little closer. “...Uhm, d-do you have a bible in your office, Father?” you asked shyly, doing your best to sound innocent and academically curious. 

The moment the question left your mouth, you almost mentally slapped yourself.

Of course he has a bible in his office!

You opened your mouth, ready to rephrase the question, to save yourself from the embarrassment of sounding so foolish—but Fr. Jeon answered before you could.

“I do have a few bible collections in my office…would you like to see them?” Fr. Jeon offered, gesturing gently toward the church office.

You dropped the boxes. “Oh, my-”

Your plan actually worked!

Your eyes widened in horror. Mortified, you immediately bent down to pick them up, only to find Fr. Jeon already reaching for them.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he chuckled softly, lifting the boxes with ease as if they weighed nothing. “Let me carry these.”

“S-Sorry, it was kinda heavy,” you reasoned out, your neck already turning red. You still couldn’t believe you were actually having a full conversation with him.

And now he was even taking you to his office!

The Lord had truly answered your prayers.

With a polite smile, Fr. Jeon handed the boxes to the truck before gesturing for you to follow him toward the office.

“I can let you borrow a few scriptures if you’d like. I have the new version of the bible—would you want that?” Fr. Jeon asked as he reached into his pocket for his office keys.

You nodded immediately, hands clasping together behind your back. “Uh, yeah. That would be heavenly!”

Heavenly? For Christ’s sake, Y/N.

Fr. Jeon only smiled at that, unlocking and opening the office door as if he were letting you step into a space you had no right to be so excited about.

Pious.

You had done your research last night—it had been difficult since he was such a private person, but you had managed to learn a few things.

Fr. Jeon had been ordained only six months ago and was now officially assigned as the priest of your city’s parish, something you were embarrassingly looking forward to.

He was twenty-eight. He had studied arts before eventually pursuing theology. There were only a handful of photos of him online…mostly seminarian group pictures, a few formal ones where he wasn’t wearing his usual cassock, though he was always in long sleeves.

You had even found one rare image where he had rolled his sleeve slightly during a group photo, revealing part of a tattoo on his arm beneath a white long-sleeve shirt and a cross necklace.

“Fuck… he’s hiding all that under his sleeves?” you had muttered to yourself last night, squinting at the screen and trying to find more…only to realize there was barely anything else. No social media, no casual photos, nothing.

“Take a seat here. I’ll get the books for you,” Fr. Jeon said now, smiling as he gestured toward the small couch in front of his desk.

You nodded and sat down obediently, trying very hard to look like a good parish girl. 

His office was quiet and orderly in a way that immediately made you straighten your posture. The walls were lined with wooden bookshelves filled with thick religious texts, bible editions, theological commentaries, and neatly stacked parish documents. A simple desk sat against one side, organized and uncluttered, with a few folders, a pen holder, and a small lamp.

In the center of the room, mounted on the wall above the desk, hung a large crucifix—christ on the cross—watching over everything in silent stillness. The soft light from the window fell across it gently, making the entire room feel even more solemn, almost sacred.

Yet your thoughts were nowhere near sacred. You were here to attempt a very dangerous, carnal sin.

Seduction.

Masked in your perfect good-girl appearance, wondering if you could crack that unshakable composure he wore so effortlessly—if you could make his calm, holy restraint finally slip.

You slowly stood up from the couch while his back remained turned, focused on his bible scriptures. Your head tilted slightly as you tried to make it look as innocent as possible…to enter his space without revealing your true, sinful intentions.

“Fr. Jeon,” you called softly, standing too close behind him.

You needed to converse, to interact with him, to get him interested—to show him how much you adored God as much as he did.

“Hmm?” He didn’t glance at you, still focused on the scriptures.

You pouted, slowly taking a peek at what he was doing. “I was wondering if I could just read the bible here instead of borrowing it….” you attempted softly. “That way, if there’s something I don’t understand… I can ask you about it right away.” you said in a sweet, suggestive tone.

Fr. Jeon glanced at you, subtly stepping back when he realized you were right behind him, your vanilla scent brushing his senses.

He paused for a moment, looking into your hopeful eyes. 

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, a small smile appearing on his face. “That's actually a good idea. Understanding scripture is easier when you can discuss it with someone. If I'm here, feel free to ask me anything you're confused about.”

Providence.

You smiled brightly, feeling your relationship with him finally take another step forward.

“That would be great! Thank you, Fr. Jeon,” you said, tilting your head and giving him one of your most charming smiles.

It was absurd.

After your finals, you were granted a two-month semestral break, and instead of using that time to party, travel with friends, or go on night outs, you had spent nearly all of it at the church. 

Sana, unfortunately, never questioned your growing interest. She was too kind to question your faith.

Over the next few weeks, your afternoons were spent in the parish office, reading scripture, flipping through commentaries, and waiting for the familiar sound of the office door opening.

During those weeks, you managed to have a few small talks with him whenever he stopped by. You learned that he visited the church every day…sometimes to pray, sometimes to help with ongoing charity work, hear confessions, or simply check on the church office before moving on to his next responsibility.

Hearing about his schedule made you quietly adjust your own, ensuring you arrived at the office around 3 p.m.—the time he usually came in to check mails and paperwork at his office.

Today, you were wearing a baby blue dress that flowed nicely around your ankles, trimmed with delicate lace at the hem. Your hair was tied in a half ponytail with a blue ribbon, your makeup subtle, and your kitten heels matching the softness of your outfit.

Sana didn’t come with you every day anymore—she had other “holy” activities outside the church, like charity visits, helping at retreat houses, touring other churches, and even climbing mountains to visit shrines and statues. 

You had politely declined most of those invitations, telling her you found comfort in staying within your church’s city.

Disingenuous.

The rhythm between you had become almost routine. You would come to the office in the afternoons, sit down with a bible, and quietly read while asking him occasional questions whenever something didn’t make sense. 

Fr. Jeon would remain at his desk, either going through papers or reading his own scripture in silence. The room would stay mostly quiet, filled with the soft turning of pages and the steady presence of his focus, as if the world outside didn’t quite reach either of you in that space.

Sometimes you would try to steer the conversation a little further, testing small openings beyond scripture, but it always naturally circled back to the same things—bible passages, God, charity work, church matters… anything within that same unspoken boundary of the holy.

Yet, that alone felt like a privilege—being allowed into the quiet rhythm of his office, as if you belonged there too.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon. I brought some snacks for you,” you said with a smile as you entered the church’s office.

As usual, he was sitting at his desk, wearing his framed glasses while reading some papers.

You walked toward him and held up a small box of cookies you had gladly baked. “I made these…kind of like a thank-you gift for letting me stay here in the office,” you said proudly.

During your free time, you had spent the entire afternoon baking cookies for Fr. Jeon, thinking it would be a nice thank-you gift for him. At first, you had even wanted to decorate them with cute frosting faces of Jesus, convinced it would make you look extra devoted in his eyes.

Unfortunately, after staring at your frosting bag for ten minutes, you realized it might look a little too....performative.

So, with great reluctance, you abandoned your tiny Jesus-face cookie idea and settled for regular chocolate chip cookies instead.

The result sat neatly inside the box you now held out to him, carefully packed and decorated with far more effort than necessary.

Fr. Jeon looked at the cookies, his head tilting slightly when he noticed the box was covered in heart stickers. A soft smile formed on his lips, quietly touched by your kindness.

“That’s very kind of you, sweetheart.” he said softly, taking the box before looking up at you from his swivel chair. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Your cheeks flushed, making you feel like a schoolgirl finally noticed by your crush.

“No worries, Fr. Jeon… besides, I really like reading the bible here! it feels comforting,” you said, leaning in slightly as if to emphasize your point. “And thank you… you really help me understand it better when I get confused,” you added softly, fluttering your lashes at him.

He blinked slowly, clearly caught off guard by your sweet smile and the way you leaned in, his usual composure faltering for a brief moment as he paused.

“No...no problem sweetheart.” he said with a small smile. “I’m… glad you find comfort here. God will always find a way to comfort our souls.”

You smiled sheepishly and sat down on the small couch in front of his desk. “Hmm, I know…I always pray whenever I’m overwhelmed, somehow talking to God really helps me.” you said thoughtfully, even if you had only learned those kinds of phrases from Sana.

Fr. Jeon nodded quietly, he didn’t expect you to be this devoted.

You were very pure, kind, and charming. He had always noticed you volunteering at the church with your friend Sana—you would help with the boxes, sit around during her choir sessions, sometimes simply sit in the pew as if the presence of the church alone was enough for you.

It wasn’t hard to notice you. You were pretty and graceful, always smiling at everyone, carrying a soft, composed presence whenever he saw you at the church in your long skirts and modest blouses—like a quiet image of devotion itself. 

Despite that, his eyes never lingered. 

Always composed, always measured…because anything longer than a passing glance felt like something he shouldn’t allow himself.

Ever since you asked him about the bible that day, he had been quietly amazed. Nowadays, very few people showed genuine interest in scripture, let alone someone your age. 

Seeing your devotion—or what he believed was devotion…filled him with a warmth he hadn't expected. It was rare to meet someone so eager to learn more about God.

What he didn't realize was that your sweet, holy little plan had been working all along.

And what you didn't realize was that your sweetness, your smiles, your carefully built innocence—had been working from the very beginning.

You were so focused on the fact that his eyes never lingered, so convinced that he remained untouched by your presence, that you failed to see the subtle effect you had already left behind.

“What do you do during your free time, Fr. Jeon?” you asked casually one friday afternoon, trying your best to sound merely curious rather than interested. 

You had spent weeks keeping your questions safely within the boundaries of scripture. Careful not to reveal how badly you wanted to know the man behind the collar. 

So you kept your tone light and innocent, as though it were nothing more than a harmless question that had happened to cross your mind.

Fr. Jeon's head tilted slightly. He was sitting across from you at the small coffee table inside his office, a bible resting in his hands just like yours. 

“I visit charities,” he answered lightly. “I usually stay there for a while and spend time with the children.” a fond smile crossed his face at the memory.

Your lips parted. Oh! still religious.

“How about you, sweetheart?” Fr. Jeon asked.

You quickly searched for a suitably holy answer. “Umm, I-I sometimes climb mountains to visit shrines and blessed statues,” you said, biting your lip as you recalled one of Sana's favorite religious activities.

Fr. Jeon nodded thoughtfully, visibly impressed…his expression softening as if genuinely moved that you spent your free time in service of the Lord.

“What a good girl you are,” he said softly. 

His eyes lifted to meet yours for a brief moment—just long enough to make your heart stumble…before he looked away first, a small smile forming on his lips that he quickly hid as he lowered his gaze back to the bible.

Your lips parted slightly, warmth rushing to your cheeks at the compliment.

Good girl. Oh to be called his good girl.

Even though Sana had been busy lately with her other holy activities, you didn't mind attending mass alone. In fact, you were more than happy sitting in the front row. 

Your eyes would sparkle whenever Fr. Jeon spoke, your heart thumping whenever his gaze swept across the congregation and briefly met yours.

It always felt like a small victory, as though he was finally acknowledging you, finally noticing you.

“The Body of Christ.” Fr. Jeon held up the host.

“Amen,” you replied softly.

Unlike before, however, his gaze briefly lowered to meet yours. It lasted only a moment, accompanied by a small smile, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Enthralled.

Little by little, the distance between you seemed to shrink. The walls around him no longer felt quite as impenetrable as they once had.

Overtime, you had finally managed to crack through the edges of his usual reserve. What started as strictly scripture and charity talk had slowly, almost imperceptibly, begun to shift into something more personal. 

You learned how he first became interested in the priesthood, how his mother had served in the church, and how deeply devoted his family was to their faith. You even found the courage to ask about his tattoos, discovering they came from his love for art long before he pursued theology.

In return, you had shared little pieces of yourself as well—your hobbies, your favorite things, your likes and dislikes. Of course, you were careful to sprinkle in a little extra holiness whenever you could, always eager to impress him and maintain the image he seemed to have of you.

Fr. Jeon enjoyed your presence. It was refreshing to converse with someone who seemed to share the same interest and devotion that he held so dearly.

As the weeks passed, he found himself quietly looking forward to your visits, anticipating the familiar sound of your voice drifting into his office each afternoon. After all, you had always been naturally playful and talkative, and somehow… your constant babbling had become a welcome part of his routine.

It had been a month since you started spending your afternoons in his office. Upon entering, you found him sitting at the coffee table instead of his desk. Scattered across the table were several small boxes in different colors.

Curious, you stepped inside, your usual box of homemade cookies in hand—the same kind you brought him every week.

“What’s that, Fr. Jeon?” you asked, taking a seat across from him and placing the cookies on the table.

Fr. Jeon looked up and smiled. “When's your birthday, sweetheart?”

You blinked, a question that was out of the blue—like you were on a date, and he was casually getting to know you.

Your cheeks immediately flushed, you told him your birth date, unable to hide the slight confusion in your voice.

Fr. Jeon nodded thoughtfully before reaching for one of the small boxes on the table.

There were twelve of them in total, each a different color. Pink, purple, green, blue, yellow, and several others.

“This would be your birthstone color then,” he said with a fond smile, handing you the box that matched your birth month.

Confused, you picked up the box and slowly opened it.

A small rosary bracelet rested inside.

Your heart began thumping so loudly you could hear it in your ears as you remembered the conversation from weeks ago…when he had gently corrected you and told you that rosaries weren't meant to be worn as necklaces.

“T-This is for me?” you asked, eyes wide and sparkling.

Fr. Jeon smiled softly. “Yes, sweetheart. I didn't know your birthday, so I bought all twelve colors,” he admitted with a small chuckle, glancing at the remaining boxes on the table.

It was such a simple gift, yet your heart fluttered stupidly in your chest. Somehow, this meant more than the flowers, chocolates, teddy bears, and expensive jewelry your admirers had given you before.

Before you could stop yourself, you rose from your seat and threw your arms around him.

Fr. Jeon froze in surprise, his eyes widened as you suddenly closed the distance between you. The force of the hug nearly made him lose his balance in the chair as your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

“Thank you, Fr. Jeon...so sweet of you.” you murmured, overwhelmed with happiness.

He gulped harshly. It had been a long time since he had been touched by a woman.

Not accidentally in a crowded place. Not a polite handshake after mass. Not a brief greeting exchanged out of courtesy.

A long time.

His heart raced against his ribs as your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Your hot breath fanned softly against his collar, carrying the familiar scent of vanilla that had become impossible for him not to recognize. The closeness was overwhelming in a way he hadn't expected, making him painfully aware of how little physical affection existed in his life.

His hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before gripping the edge of the table instead. Every instinct told him to return the gesture, to place a comforting hand against your back and reassure you, but he remained still, forcing himself to hold onto his composure.

“You're welcome, sweetheart.” Fr. Jeon rasped, his voice coming out rougher than usual.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled brightly and sat back down in your chair, immediately slipping the bracelet onto your wrist.

Meanwhile, he remained frozen for a moment, trying to swallow away the lingering awareness of your closeness. The warmth of your embrace, your breath against his collar, the brief press of your breasts against him.

The hug had been innocent, sweet and harmless.

Which only made it worse.

Because he had no reason to be affected by it at all. He found himself quietly unsettled by the fact that he had needed to restrain himself in a moment that should have been nothing more than simple gratitude.

Temptation.

The next day, you proudly wore the rosary bracelet he had given you. You had even chosen a dress that matched its color, complete with a ribbon in your hair to tie everything together.

When you entered his office, you found Fr. Jeon standing by the bookshelves, a scripture in one hand. His glasses rested low on his nose as he read through a passage.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon,” you greeted happily, practically sashaying toward him.

His attention lifted from the page.

Immediately, you raised your wrist and showed off the bracelet. “Look,” you said with a grin.

Fr. Jeon glanced down, you were already twirling in place, eager to show him how the bracelet matched your dress.

Pretty.

The thought came so naturally that he frowned at himself.

“Good day, Y/N.” he replied, forcing his attention away from the observation.

You smiled brightly and wriggled your wrist. “I matched the bracelet with my dress and ribbon, see?”

Turning in a small circle again, you proudly showed off the entire outfit.

Fr. Jeon watched for a brief moment before lowering his gaze. Lately, he had become far too aware of things he shouldn't be noticing.

How pretty you looked whenever you walked into his office, how your face lit up whenever you talked to him, how easily your excitement filled the room.

Even your long dresses—soft fabric falling gently to your ankles, lace details tracing along the edges…began to feel distracting in a way he could not fully explain or justify. 

Turning innocent things into distractions. The modesty that should have protected his thoughts was beginning to have the opposite effect, making him painfully aware of the woman hidden beneath layers of fabric and lace.

Perhaps it was because it had been so long since he had allowed himself to be this close to a woman. Years spent in seminaries, rectories, church offices, and ministry had made him accustomed to a life of distance and discipline. He had grown comfortable in it.

Until you.

“Glad you like it, sweetheart,” he said at last, forcing a small smile before returning his attention to the scripture in his hands.

It was easier to focus on the page than on the way you were still standing there, smiling at him as if he had just given you the greatest gift in the world.

You giggled and stepped a little closer. “You know, I didn’t remove the bracelet yet… I’m planning on wearing it forever.”

Fr. Jeon raised a brow at that, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Really?” he asked, unable to hide the delightfulness in his voice.

“Yes! I didn’t even remove it when I took a bath,” you giggled, smiling at him with pure adoration.

His brows furrowed slightly at what you had just said, but before he could stop himself, a faint flush crept across his cheeks.

Test of faith.

His mind betrayed him for a brief second, wandering toward the image of you showering while still wearing the bracelet he had given you, carefully keeping it on even then. The thought was so sudden and inappropriate that he immediately felt ashamed.

He gulped harshly, disappointed in himself. He would have to repent later and ask the Lord for forgiveness for allowing such a crude thought to cross his mind.

Fr. Jeon could not entertain that desire. It was forbidden, a temptation that needed to be buried and forgotten before it could take root.

Yet despite the turmoil quietly unfolding inside him, he weakly reached over and gently patted your head.

His heart immediately thumped against his ribs when your eyes lifted to meet his, shining with unmistakable adoration at the simple gesture.

You beamed at him...letting out a small, delighted giggle that softened the moment even further.

Craving.

The past few weeks had been exhausting. As the city's new presider, he had been buried beneath paperwork and responsibilities. The church had also been flooded with parishioners seeking confession, and the lines seemed to grow longer with each passing day.

Hundreds of voices had passed through the confessional since then, each carrying their own sins, burdens, and regrets. Most of them faded from memory the moment absolution was given.

Yours hadn't.

Fr. Jeon leaned back in his chair and stared at the crucifix hanging on the office wall. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the room.

He had spent years strengthening his faith, disciplining his mind, and dedicating himself entirely to the Lord. Yet lately, all it took was a sweet smile, an innocent touch, or the sound of your voice to shake that discipline.

Closing his eyes, he lowered his head.

"Lord, forgive me," he murmured quietly.

A threat to his devotion.

-

“Ouch, fuck,” you groaned, pulling the tray of cookies out of the oven.

You were baking a fresh batch for Fr. Jeon today, trying out a larger baking tray than usual so you could make more cookies at once. Unfortunately, the experiment immediately backfired.

As you bent down to take the tray out, the hot metal edge accidentally brushed against your inner thigh. You winced, pouting as you watched your skin slowly turn red.

“This looks so bad,” you murmured, setting the tray of cookies down on the counter.

Luckily, you had been wearing long skirts these days.

Prepping the boxes of cookies you had baked, you decided to wear a purple long lacey skirt paired with a cute ruffled top. Your hair was styled into low pigtail braids, each tied with a ribbon at the ends. Holding the box carefully, you frowned slightly when you felt the bandage rubbing against your swollen skin.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon, I got you cookies!” you beamed.

You noticed he had become even busier after being appointed as the city’s official presider, though you didn’t realize he had been deliberately drowning himself in paperwork—anything to keep his thoughts from drifting where they shouldn’t.

“Good day, Y/N,” he replied, glancing up for only a brief moment to return your smile before his attention went back to the documents in front of him.

You frowned slightly and placed the box of cookies on the table in front of him. “Got you a different flavor! It’s red velvet this time,” you said, pointing at the box with a small, proud smile.

Fr. Jeon glanced at them, warmth flickering in his chest before he quickly pushed it down.

“Thank you, Y/N… that’s very kind of you,” he said gently, his tone careful, as though he was trying to place distance even while accepting your kindness.

You pouted almost immediately. The response felt far too brief for someone who had spent the morning baking for him.

Wanting his attention back on you, you shifted your weight and played with the ends of your braid, searching for something that would pull his focus away from the paperwork on his desk.

“You know… I even got burned earlier because I used a bigger tray and it hit me,” you said with a small chuckle, watching him carefully for a reaction. “But it’s fine, I’m just worried it might leave a mark,” you added with a light giggle, unable to hide the hopeful note in your voice as you waited for him to look at you again.

That got his attention immediately.

His brows furrowed as he looked up from the papers, concern breaking through the careful distance he had been trying to maintain. His eyes instinctively moved to your hands, searching for any sign of injury.

“Where is it? Let me see,” Fr. Jeon said, the concern in his voice unmistakable. His gaze lingered on your fingers and wrists, unable to find the burn he was looking for.

You had to fight the smile threatening to appear.

Slowly, you made your way around the table until you were standing beside him. From his swivel chair, he tilted his head back to follow your movement, his attention still fixed on your hands.

“It’s not there, Fr. Jeon…” you said softly. “Here...”

A small giggle escaped you as you gently lifted the hem of your long skirt. 

His eyes widened instantly, panic flashing across his face before he could hide it. Before you could lift your skirt any higher, his hand shot forward on instinct, wrapping around your wrist to stop you.

“W-What are you doing?” he asked, nearly choking on the words.

The reaction was immediate, almost alarmed, as though the sight of you standing there with your hands on your skirt had caught him completely off guard. His grip wasn't harsh, but it was firm enough to halt your movement, his composure visibly rattled.

“I burned my thighs, Fr. Jeon… see?” you said innocently, lifting the fabric just enough to reveal the bandage wrapped beneath.

His lips parted at the sight, momentarily stunned.

The bandage sat against your soft thighs, the realization of how close he was to something so private making his mind go blank for a second. 

He had never seen so much of you like this before—not this close, not this exposed in such an unguarded, unexpected way.

Your thighs looked so soft, pink and smooth… faintly marked by the redness around the bandage, drawing attention to how tightly you had wrapped it. 

“It hurts a little,” you pouted, pointing at it.

His throat tightened as he swallowed hard, his gaze immediately faltering. Behind his glasses…his pupils were dilated, his ears and neck flushing red. His hands gripped the sides of his swivel chair tightly, as though grounding himself in place.

“Y-You wrapped it wrong,” he managed to say at last, his voice strained. He cleared his throat and forced his attention elsewhere, brows furrowing as he tried to recover his composure.

You tilted your head. “I did?” you looked down, trying to check your bandage when he suddenly stood up.

“I-I have a first aid kit in my cabinet. Sit in my swivel chair...I-I’ll wrap it for you,” he said quickly, already turning away from you as if creating distance would steady him. Without waiting for another reaction, he walked toward the cabinet near the bookshelves.

You bit your lip. “Okay…”

You obediently sat down in his swivel chair, a small, satisfied feeling flickering in your chest when you noticed how concerned…and slightly flustered—he seemed.

When he returned, he was holding a small first aid kit. Your breath caught slightly when he suddenly knelt in front of you.

“L-Lift your skirt, please.” he said, his tone firm but strained, his brows drawn together as he deliberately avoided looking too directly while waiting for you to comply.

Your heart stammered, green thoughts flowing inside your filthy brain.

With shaky, anticipatory hands, you lifted your skirt up to your inner thighs, purposefully raising it a little higher than necessary.

When he looked at your exposed thighs, his breath hitched. He tried to remain as calm as possible, forcing himself to focus. Slowly, he reached for the bandage, almost flinching when he felt the softness of your skin beneath the rough pad of his fingers.

“It’s too tight,” he said breathily, his hands trembling as he unwrapped the bandage from your thigh.

“Is it?” you said softly, watching the way his lips were slightly parted, his expression focused and controlled.

When the burn was finally exposed, his brows furrowed. “You should be more careful, Y/N.” he said quietly.

He took a small tube of ointment from the kit, applying a bit to his index finger before carefully spreading it over the burn.

You winced slightly at the contact, while his attention remained fixed and steady as he worked.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice lower than usual as he briefly checked your reaction before focusing back on the injury.

You bit your lip. “J-Just a little bit.”

He sighed harshly at that, gently rubbing the ointment in with steady movements, though you could see beads of sweat slowly forming on his forehead.

“Just a little more,” he murmured almost under his breath, applying another layer of ointment. His control was thinner now, each movement more deliberate than the last, as if he was carefully holding himself together.

When he took the new bandage, he wrapped it carefully around your burn with precise, practiced hands. Once he was done, he immediately adjusted your skirt, smoothing it down with controlled efficiency…perhaps a little too quickly, as though creating distance from the moment itself.

When he stood up, you could see it more clearly now: the restraint in his posture, the tension in his jaw, the way his composure wasn’t as effortless as before. He looked like he was actively holding himself back from something, grounding himself before it showed too much.

“Thank you,” you said warmly, smiling up at him.

He looked down at you, tilting his head slightly at how innocent you appeared with your ribbons and braids.

Forbidden.

That night, Fr. Jeon fell into the forbidden temptation he had been trying so hard to resist.

It was ten o’clock, yet he remained inside the church office, refusing to leave the premises until his mind and soul were free of guilt.

Frustrated, he buried himself in scripture, but his thoughts kept drifting back to your soft, beautiful thighs and the rosary bracelet on your wrist that had stirred such sinful thoughts within him.

“Forgive me,” he muttered under his breath, his tattooed hand sliding down his slacks to palm his hardening cock.

His lips parted. It had been a very long time since he had touched himself...he had almost forgotten how good it felt. With a shaky breath, he slowly stroked his growing erection, murmuring apologies and curses beneath his breath.

He nearly rolled his eyes back at the sensation. It felt far too good. His cock hardened with alarming ease at the mere thought of you.

Lust.

With trembling hands, he slowly pulled his cock free from his slacks. It was thick and pulsing, a bead of precum already forming at the swollen tip.

When his tattooed hand squeezed the base, more fluid gathered at the head, coating his throbbing shaft.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered under his breath, a groan escaping him as he rediscovered how good it felt to touch himself after so long.

It was sinful. Dirty.

He was still inside the church office, dressed in his usual black clerical shirt with its roman collar. Scripture lay open on his desk, and his glasses had begun to fog from the heat of his breath.

It had been years. He could no longer remember the last time he had touched a woman, nor the last time he had thought of one this way. When he devoted himself to the Lord, he had promised never to indulge in such acts again.

The longer he had restrained himself, the better it felt to finally release that tension after so many years. His cock almost ached. Thick and veiny, it twitched whenever he rolled the foreskin down.

“God, help me.” Fr. Jeon moaned shamelessly, jerking himself in slow, deliberate strokes, determined to savor every second of it.

He gathered spit in his mouth and let it trickle down his aching shaft. The added lubrication drew a groan from him. He bit down hard on his lip as the realization struck him once more—how good this felt, how much he had missed touching himself.

His thoughts drifted to you.

He imagined your sweet confession about still wearing the rosary bracelet he had given you... even while bathing. The thought lingered longer than it should have, unfurling in his mind as he pictured your small, delicate hands gliding a bar of soap across your soft skin. The rosary would brush against your chest with every movement, the beads shifting and sliding as you washed your nipples.

And then his thoughts wandered further, painting one image after another—your inner thighs, the way the beads might accidentally graze your soft skin as you shower. Each vision arrived unbidden, more vivid than the last, and far more difficult to suppress.

A sacred desire.

He was leaking more and more with every thought of you. The only sound echoing through the office was the wet rhythm of his hand jerking along his hard leaking cock.

Curious, he gathered a bead of precum between his thumb and index finger and brought it to his lips. The taste was salty, thick, and strangely addicting.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, collecting more of it only to taste himself again.

Your forbidden thighs.

The softness of them. The way he had been close enough to imagine burying himself in their warmth. The way they flushed pink beneath his touch. The way they looked so plump and beautiful, tempting thoughts he should never have entertained.

He imagined pressing kisses along your legs, lingering there as though each touch were an act of devotion. He imagined how soft your pussy would feel beneath his lips, how he would part your folds just to stare at your glistening cunt, worshipping it with the reverence of a prayer.

Fr. Jeon was close to climaxing, using memories of your past interactions to fuel his sinful fantasies. His hand was slick with saliva and precum, his thighs tensing as he struggled to hold himself back. He tried to edge himself, to prolong the moment, because the sensation felt far too good after so many years of restraint.

Your body. Even beneath your long dresses and modest blouses, he could tell you were beautiful.

It shamed him that it had been one of the first things he noticed when he saw you wearing that rosary. The way your chest filled out your modest clothing. The way your waist appeared so delicate beneath layers of fabric. The way he found himself wondering what was hidden beneath all that lace and decency.

It was a sin he was terrified to acknowledge. A sin he was terrified to put into words.

But you were beautiful, kind, gentle, and devoted in your faith.

He wanted to fuck you.

When the shameful thought finally broke free from the restraints he had placed upon it, he came hard, his release staining the dark fabric of his slacks.

A deep groan tore from his throat as he continued to stroke himself, milking every last wave of pleasure from his body. His thumb brushed along the underside of his cock, chasing the lingering sensitivity.

“Fuck, I’m still hard,” he muttered, biting his lower lip as he glanced down at himself.

It was understandable.

After years of abstinence, it wasn't surprising that his body responded so eagerly. The restraint he had maintained for so long seemed to have shattered all at once.

Yearning.

All night, instead of losing himself in scripture, he gave in to temptation. His hand jerked shamelessly over his cock as his thoughts returned to you again and again. To every forbidden desire he had tried to suppress. To every impulse he had buried beneath prayer, discipline, and devotion.

Hours passed unnoticed.

He had so much pent-up desire, so much neglected hunger, that he remained awake until dawn, caught in an endless cycle of pleasure in jerking his insatiable cock. The office grew quiet around him while the darkness slowly gave way to morning light, yet his thoughts never strayed far from your face, your kindness, and the feelings he had spent so long denying.

And the fantasies that filled his mind were so sinful that he feared they had carried him beyond forgiveness.

“This should do it,” you giggled to yourself, wrapping the bandage poorly on purpose so he would have an excuse to fix it for you again.

Your box of cookies was already prepared, resting neatly on your lap while you held a bible in your hands and waited for Fr. Jeon.

Unfortunately, hours passed with nothing but the sound of turning pages accompanying you. You flipped through scripture after scripture, occasionally glancing toward the door, expecting him to appear at any moment.

Yet he never came.

Confused, you eventually stepped out of the office to look for him yourself. Perhaps he was outside helping with the donations or speaking with parishioners, as he often did. But after wandering around the church grounds and checking every place you could think of, you still couldn't find him anywhere.

“Where is he?” you pouted to yourself, a disappointed sigh slipping past your lips as you made your way back to his office.

By the time you returned, the warm glow of sunset had already begun spilling through the stained-glass windows.

Realizing he wasn't coming, you reluctantly decided to leave the cookies behind along with a small handwritten note. The thought alone made your chest feel strangely heavy.

“I miss him already,” you murmured, frowning at your own words.

It wasn't as if you could simply call or text him. Despite spending weeks at the church, Fr. Jeon had never given you his number, and you had never found the courage to ask for it. Perhaps it was because you preferred seeing him in person.

The idea of receiving his answers through a text message whenever you had questions about scripture felt disappointing somehow. You liked sitting across from him, listening to his voice as he patiently explained things to you. You liked the little smiles he gave you, the way his attention never seemed rushed, and the comfort that came with simply being around him.

That day left you unusually sad. It was the first time you hadn't seen him at all. Even when he was busy, he always managed to stop by, if only for a minute. No matter how much work he had, he never missed the opportunity to check on you.

Avoidance.

You came back today...hopeful that you would finally see him again and finally ask where he had been yesterday, you were instead met with confusion when he didn’t appear again. You pouted when you noticed the box of cookies you had left behind was still untouched, exactly where you had placed it.

“That’s odd, he can’t miss a bible reading,” you murmured to yourself, already accustomed to his usual routine. He always visited the church at a certain time to pray quietly and read scripture before continuing his day, and you had grown used to waiting for him during those moments.

But days passed, and he was still nowhere to be seen.

The cookies you had prepared for him began to lose their freshness, and the papers he usually kept neatly on his desk started to gather dust. A strange sense of unease settled in your chest as you tried to understand what had changed.

You asked around the church, speaking to parishioners and volunteers, hoping someone might have seen him or could explain where he had gone. But what you learned nearly broke your heart.

He was still coming to the church every day. He just arrived earlier now.

You had always known his schedule well—he used to visit his office around three in the afternoon, which was why you were always there waiting at that time. You never thought he would suddenly change it without warning.

“T-Thank you,” you managed to say, forcing a small smile when one of the parishioners finally informed you that he had been seeing Fr. Jeon every morning. You were lucky this particular parishioner stayed at the church throughout the day, otherwise you might never have learned the truth.

Still, the information left you disappointed and strangely hurt.

The fact that he was visiting every day but never acknowledged your cookies. The fact that he never even left a note to explain. The fact that you had been waiting for him all this time, dressed in your usual modest dresses, as if your presence alone meant anything to him.

Tears slowly began to gather in your eyes for reasons you couldn’t fully understand. It felt almost like being rejected without a single word, like a quiet heartbreak you hadn’t been prepared for. It seemed as though he was suddenly avoiding you.

“What did I do?” you pouted softly to yourself, walking home with slumped shoulders as you tried to wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

On the way, your thoughts turned over your last interaction with him. Had you been too bold? Had he noticed something in you that you thought you had hidden well? Had he finally realized that your devotion wasn’t as pure as it appeared?

The more you thought about it, the more desperate you became to see him again. And instead of wanting to reveal your true ill intentions, you found yourself wishing the opposite—that he would see how devoted you were, how deeply you admired him, how willingly you would sacrifice your dignity just to remain close to him.

Restraint.

You didn’t know that he had been avoiding you all along, because your sick plan had finally taken effect, his careful restraint crumbling like a rock under pressure.

Fr. Jeon couldn’t bring himself to face you. Even the slightest eye contact felt like it would burn through his skin, your presence alone eating away at whatever remained of his guilt until there was nothing left but discomfort and temptation.

Desperate.

You woke up early that day, preparing yourself carefully so you could see him. The constant overthinking had become unbearable, and you were convinced that seeing him would finally calm your thoughts.

Slowly, you walked through the church halls, your kitten heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Your wandering gaze passed over parishioners and silent figures lost in prayer, the morning air gentle and warm as it settled over your chaotic mind. The scent of the church—fresh flowers and holy water—was oddly soothing as you moved deeper inside.

But as you went further in, you nearly lost your balance when you noticed his office door slightly ajar.

Your heart began to pound in anticipation as you carefully approached. And when you finally looked inside, your eyes widened.

There he was.

In his usual black clerical long-sleeved shirt and roman collar, Fr. Jeon stood looking down at the box of cookies you had left a week ago.

Your heart sank at the realization that he must have seen the box of cookies days ago—and still chose to ignore it.

Taking a steadying breath, you stepped inside and gently closed the door behind you, locking it without hesitation.

“Fr. Jeon,” you said softly.

He looked up immediately, his eyes widening as though he had seen something he shouldn’t have. For a brief moment, he looked almost like he had seen a ghost. His entire body stiffened, tension tightening in his posture as he forced himself upright.

“What are you doing here?” His tone came out sharper than intended, almost accusatory, as he tried to regain control of himself by straightening his clerical collar and adjusting the bridge of his glasses.

You frowned at the reaction, slowly taking a step closer. Something in your chest cracked when you noticed how his expression shifted with each movement you made—his brows tightening, his gaze dropping as if he couldn’t bear to hold it steady on you for too long.

“You didn’t get the cookies I got you,” you said with a small pout, glancing between the box and him as if the answer should have been obvious.

Fr. Jeon bit his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment, as though needing time to steady himself.

“I was… busy,” he said, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard. He almost stepped back when you moved closer.

You tilted your head at him. “Am I taking too much of your time, Father?” you asked softly, your voice carrying a sad little pout.

Patience.

Fr. Jeon exhaled slowly and heavily, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as if trying to ground himself. Your presence alone seemed to shut down every carefully built wall he had been maintaining.

He looked down at your sad pout, and something in him nearly cracked at the sight of your sadness. For a moment, his composure faltered as fantasies surged back in, uninvited and overwhelming.

For the past few days, he had been deliberately avoiding you. He had started arriving at the church earlier, knowing you always came in the afternoon, carefully timing his routines so he would not run into you. He avoided his office as well, because every corner of it reminded him of you.

But this morning, he had come in anyway.

And the first thing he saw was the box of cookies you had left behind… along with a small note that said you missed him.

Desire.

For the past few nights, he had been jerking his cock non-stop. Ever since that first time, he couldn’t shake the feeling, couldn’t resist the urge to return to it again and again—groaning your name under his breath like a sacred prayer.

“No, sweetheart… I’m just—”

“I’m sorry… I just really like it here, and I love talking to you,” you said in a soft tone, stepping closer until he could smell your vanilla perfume, your pleading eyes pulling him deeper into your orbit.

Fr. Jeon swallowed harshly, his pulse quickening at how sweet and beautiful you looked for him.

“Sweetheart—”

“Would you like me to leave?” you asked quietly, biting your lower lip.

His eyes dropped to your lips. His hands curled into fists, every passing second testing his hard-earned faith and devotion.

But no...he would rather endure the torment alone, rather than risk touching your beautiful, tempting soul.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you much of my time right now. I’ve been really busy—” Fr. Jeon said with finality.

Suddenly, you rose onto your tiptoes to meet his height and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“It’s okay, Father… I understand,” you whispered, your lips lingering dangerously close to his.

Succumbed.

Before you could pull away, his hands slid to your waist, steadying you—holding you in place more firmly than expected. You were about to look at him in confusion when he suddenly crashed his lips into yours.

Your eyes widened, your body nearly falling backward, but he held you firmly in place. His kiss was harsh and desperate—like a man starved, and you were the only water in a burning desert.

His tongue forced its way into your mouth, and the sound of his low groan sent shivers down your spine.

His brows were furrowed tightly, every bit of pent-up frustration spilling into the kiss. It was rough, consuming—his control slipping as he pulled you deeper into it, saliva beginning to spill messily between your mouths from how intensely he claimed your lips.

When he finally pulled away, his pupils were blown wide. His lips were red and swollen, his chin damp with both of your saliva.

He released your waist almost instantly, as though you had burned him.

Swallowing hard, he stared down at your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Oh God. What had he done?

“W-What—” you stammered, bewildered, still in shock at how easily Fr. Jeon—a priest with such a good reputation….had fallen into your lips like a man undone by weakness and lust.

Surrendered.

When you saw him step back, his brows furrowing as if he had just realized what he had done, you immediately grabbed his arms.

“I—I’m sorry, this is blasphemous, I—”

You pulled him back and kissed him again, softer this time. “I like you, Fr. Jeon. Please don’t avoid me,” you almost pleaded, tugging him down so you could reach his lips again.

His eyes widened. He shook his head immediately. “Y/N, n-no… this is wrong,” he blurted weakly, trying to grab your wrists as you pulled him closer.

Hearing those words from your mouth struck something deep in him, shaking his resolve. He couldn’t fall for you, he couldn’t kiss you, he couldn’t touch you...he couldn’t even think about you.

The only solution was to stay away—to pretend none of this had ever happened.

You shook your head. “Please, I want you so badly… there’s nothing wrong with this,” you insisted, trying to kiss him again, but he turned away. His eyes were heavy-lidded, weakened, the air in the office suddenly suffocating.

“You make me happy, Fr. Jeon… please,” you pleaded.

He shook his head firmly. “I am a priest, Y/N. This is forbidden,” he said weakly, his voice low and rough—like every word cost him something, like it was painful to say.

“But...why did you kiss me?” you pleaded.

Fr. Jeon groaned under his breath, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“Do you like me too, Fr. Jeon?” you pushed further, stepping closer, watching how much it seemed to strain him.

“Y/N, this is wrong—”

Your lips parted. “You...you like me,” you concluded when he didn’t deny it.

A small smile formed on your lips at the confirmation. Suddenly, the past few weeks made sense—the distance, the avoidance, the restraint. Everything clicked into place.

When he weakly let go of your wrists, you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, as if he had finally surrendered to you. His lips parted, his eyes clouded and hazy.

“Since when, Father?” you whispered, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He shut his eyes tightly. The feeling of your hands on him was already enough to send him spiraling. His lack of physical affection was becoming obvious in the way his body reacted—his restraint slipping under something as simple as your soft, shallow touch.

“The first time I saw you at the church,” he whispered so low you almost didn’t catch it, as though even admitting it was a sin.

You gasped, your eyes widening at the revelation that he had noticed you from the very beginning.

“I-I thought… you didn’t recognize me. Y-You were always so busy and—”

“I did,” he cut in softly, his voice rough. “But it’s impure of me to stare at such beauty. I cannot do that.”

His gaze dropped to your lips again, weak and conflicted.

You gasped, a fond grin forming on your beautiful face. “Indeed, that’s very impure of you…Father,” you giggled.

Fr. Jeon groaned, attempting to step back again, but this time you pulled him closer and kissed him without hesitation. When you tried to part his lips with yours, you felt him shake his head, his hands gripping your waist to hold you back.

“N-No… we can’t—”

“Shh... it’s okay, Father… we’ll keep this a secret,” you whispered like a little devil in disguise, your pouty lips brushing against his again. “No one will know…”

Fr. Jeon groaned, your words sending shivers down his spine. The tension between restraint and desire tightened further.

“No, sweetheart, this is wrong… we should—”

“Please, Father…I’m already so wet.” you mumbled softly, looking at him with pleading eyes.

His eyes widened. It had been a long time since he had heard such crude words—especially coming from a pretty mouth like yours.

“T-That’s—” he stammered, his composure slipping further under the weight of you.

“Unholy?” you giggled, taking his right hand and guiding it beneath your long skirt.

His lips parted when his fingers brushed against the wet fabric of your underwear. His cheeks and ears burned red at the realization of how aroused you were.

You bit your lip, rising onto your tiptoes to whisper against his ear.

“No one will know.” you dragged your tongue along the shell of it, smiling when you heard him let out a soft, broken sound.

Blasphemous.

His lips grazed your inner thighs as his once devout, God-bound gaze now fixed on your bare, wet pussy. He knelt before you like you were some immaculate saint.

“Y-You’re so beautiful,” he said breathlessly, his fingers parting your folds and gently pulling back your hood to expose your sensitive clit.

You gasped loudly when he spat onto your center, his soft lips immediately wrapping around your clit, sucking in both his saliva and your wetness.

“Oh, God,” you moaned.

Fr. Jeon looked almost sacred between your thighs. Your skirt was bunched at your waist just enough for him to fully indulge in your pussy, while his black clerical shirt began to stain from how much you were dripping onto him. His glasses had grown slightly fogged from the heat of his breath against your body and the warmth between your legs.

He ate your pussy like a starving man, unable to get enough. His tongue pushed inside your tight cunt in search of more, drawing more juices from you, while the obscene sounds of his mouth filled the room. His throat worked with every swallow, adam’s apple bobbing as he greedily took in every drop you gave him.

“You taste so good,” he mumbled between your thighs, the vibration of his voice sending pleasure straight to your core.

You bit your lip, giggling softly while trying to keep your balance—you were leaning against his desk.

“Do you like how wet it is?” you asked, looking down at him as if amused by how much he was enjoying himself.

Fr. Jeon nodded against your cunt. “So wet and pretty,” he mumbled, sucking your clit until his cheeks hollowed, his dimples showing each time he latched on harder.

The way he ate you out was wet and messy, continuously spitting as his lips stayed locked around your clit. You gasped when he pinched your folds together, trying to eat your entire pussy into his warm mouth.

Every time you squirmed, he tightened his grip on your thighs, groaning under his breath as if he wanted to drown himself in you completely.

Whenever he pulled back to breathe, he took a moment to stare at your swollen, messy cunt—admiring it like something sacred, something almost holy in its beauty. He whispered how ethereal it was before spitting on it again and diving back in hungrily.

“H-How come you’re so good at that?” you moaned, looking down at his mouth as he remained relentless, your juices dripping down his chin.

Fr. Jeon looked up at you, adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I’ve fantasized about this,” he said with a smile. “I imagine devouring your cunt while I jerk off my cock.”

He pressed a light kiss to the top of your clit before burying his face against you again.

Your eyes rolled back at the confession, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Hmm... really? That’s ungodly, Father.”

Fr. Jeon only groaned, pressing his face deeper until you were certain he could barely breathe. “I’m only willing to surrender myself to you.”

You gasped. The way he said it felt so wrong, so forbidden, and your pussy throbbed at the thought of him willingly committing such sinful acts, of him literally being on his knees for you.

When he felt your wetness growing, he lifted his head slightly to look at your cunt. Using his index and middle finger, he spread you open, watching as more of your milky-white juices gathered.

Fr. Jeon groaned, swallowing hard at the sight of how wet and horny you had become.

“You like that, sweetheart?”

He gathered your juices, the pads of his fingers sliding down your slit and making you flinch. Your breath caught when you watched him scoop your cum onto his fingers and bring them to his mouth, tasting your sweetness. "You got so much wetter."

“Fr. Jeon, oh my—”

He continued gathering the excess wetness, scooping up your cum until he was satisfied that you were no longer dripping. His brows furrowed as he sucked the collected juices from his fingers, unwilling to let any of it go to waste.

When he finally gathered the last drop, you frowned as he rose to his feet.

For a moment, you thought he was done. Then he brought his fingers, coated with your cum, up to your mouth.

“Open up, sweetheart.” he whispered, his gaze lowering to your lips, swollen from how hard you had been biting them.

You slowly opened your mouth, moaning when he slid his fingers inside so you could taste your own juices mixed with traces of his saliva.

“You taste like sin, don’t you?” he said softly, his fingers twirling inside your mouth, nearly making you gag.

You sucked on his fingers, your cheeks hollowing eagerly as you looked up at him with expectant eyes. “Mhm. I want to taste how pure you are, then,” you said softly, sucking his fingers the way you imagined sucking his cock.

His cock twitched inside his slacks, precum already gathering at the swollen tip.

He immediately shook his head. “Want to make you cum first, sweetheart.”

Before you could protest, he was already kneeling again, his tongue out as he buried his face between your thighs as though his life depended on it. His nose brushed against your swollen clit while his tongue alternated between slow, deliberate licks and eager suction, determined to draw every reaction from you.

The moment he sensed you were getting close, he pushed his tongue deeper, determined to suck every drop. You were about to push him away from the sudden wave of oversensitivity, but his grip on you tightened.

"I wanna swallow it, please."

You bit down hard on your lip, whispering curses beneath your breath as your body tensed. Your pussy pulsed uncontrollably, heat rushing through you as release overtook your senses.

He groaned at the way your body responded to him, your pussy throbbing vigorously against his tongue.

“I-I want to pleasure you too,” you almost cried.

He didn't stop eating you, even after you came he was sucking your pussy again. He had already made you cum several times just by eating you out. Even after your fifth orgasm, he still hadn’t stopped—still devouring you, drawing out every last drop before spitting it back down onto your slit, pulling your folds apart just to watch it drip, then catching it again with his tongue as if he couldn’t get enough.

You were already overstimulated, your thighs burning from his tight grip, but every time you looked down at him, another wave of arousal surged through you. His brows were furrowed, his eyes closed, almost as if he were praying.

“Please, I want to eat your pussy more.” he mumbled, looking up at you through his glasses, his tongue teasing slow circles around your very swollen clit.

It had been hours. His knees were already red from kneeling, and your back ached from leaning against his desk, yet he still had the stamina to continue, again and again. His cheeks and chin were slick from your cum.

You could see his slacks straining…his arousal obvious beneath the fabric—but he remained focused, almost pleading when you tried to push him away, his mouth still following your spent pussy as if he couldn’t let go.

“Please… one more, sweetheart,” he begged, his thumb soothing along your inner thighs.

When you shyly nodded, he parted your legs further, scooping up what remained of your release as it dripped down. His face pressed in close, his nose brushing against you as he worked, the carpet below you already damp with a mixture of saliva and your arousal.

Unholy.

The once-simple afternoon bible sessions had turned into something far more profane.

The moment you arrived at his office and locked the door behind you, his hands were immediately around you. He would drop to his knees, pushing your panties aside so he could press his face against your wet slit, sniffing your cunt before his tongue slipped out to taste your wetness.

“Hmm… do you like my pussy, Fr. Jeon?” you whispered, fingers tangling in his hair as he indulged you.

He groaned against you, burying his face deeper. “Like it so much.”

He was always so desperate—needy, almost whiny. It was obvious how deeply his years of abstinence had affected him, how long he had denied himself even the thought of such intimacy.

Every touch carried the weight of that restraint, as though all those years of self-denial had finally found an outlet. The way he ate your pussy for hours without stopping, the way he would suck your breasts until they turned swollen and red.

Every time you tried to touch him, he would pin your hands down instead. You had never really touched him yet—he always insisted on giving first, on worshipping you instead. He would say that pleasing you was enough,that eating your cum was enough for him, that devoting himself to your body was what satisfied him most.

“Shh, sweetheart… please be quiet.” he pleaded, his middle and index finger pushing inside your cunt, knuckles deep while massaging your spongy spot.

You were certain his fingers were already wrinkled from how long he had been fingering you, your nipples swollen and sensitive from how harshly he had been sucking them while rubbing your clit.

You bit your lip, tears almost forming in your eyes from how good it felt. “S-sorry, it’s just so good,” you mumbled incoherently.

Fr. Jeon groaned. “Yeah?” He spat down where his fingers met your pussy. “Hear that, sweetheart? You’re so wet for me.” he muttered, biting your nipple harshly while his fingers continued going in and out of your wet cunt, the sounds echoing inside the church office.

You were always a whining mess. Even if he hadn’t fucked you yet, your body was constantly left exhausted from how intensely he made you cum repeatedly. Your legs were always wobbly and shaking after each round, and you would always come home with new hickeys and bruises left by his harsh mouth.

He had the stamina to go on for hours and hours, until the entire afternoon was filled with nothing but wet sounds and your filthy moans echoing through his office.

You wanted to return the pleasure so badly, but every time he begged you to eat your pussy, your knees would go weak. You always gave him what he wanted, opening your legs and spreading your cunt for him.

It was one afternoon when you decided that you wanted to please him.

He was busy sucking on your nipples when you noticed how hard he was beneath his slacks. Your eyes rolling back when you saw him almost humping the air.

With a determined groan, you gently pushed him away from you. Your nipples were already pink and swollen.

“Let me taste you,” you pleaded, pressing a kiss to his cheek before trailing down his jaw.

He protested again, trying to guide you back against the couch.

“Sweetheart—”

“Please, Father.” you begged. “You always make me cum so good. I think I’d cum even harder if I got to taste your cock.”

You couldn’t deny that he always left you more than satisfied, constantly pushing you to the edge of overstimulation. Every time it happened, you could see just how hard his cock was. Sometimes, you would even catch the subtle movements of his hips while he was buried between your thighs, completely consumed by pleasuring you.

Fr. Jeon licked his lower lip, as though contemplating whether he could truly accept the idea of you being on your knees for him. It felt like too much to bear, as if he wasn’t ready for it yet. Shamefully, he was certain he would cum the moment your lips touched his tip.

But seeing you like this—begging, your lips drawn into a sweet pout—made his resolve weaken. His eyes fluttered shut helplessly as you eagerly knelt in front of him.

“Sweetheart,” he rasped, swallowing hard.

You looked up at him before slowly leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against the bulge beneath his slacks.

A harsh groan escaped him. His cock throbbed beneath the fabric, and that simple, innocent kiss was almost enough to make him stumble.

When you pulled down his zipper, you gasped audibly at the sight of his black boxers, already soaked with a large patch of wetness from his precum.

“You’re leaking, Father,” you said with a pout, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

He sucked in a breath, his hands curling into fists as he struggled to compose himself. You looked beautiful and completely undignified at the same time, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to resist.

Slowly, you tugged down his boxers...just enough to tuck his balls and free his hard cock.

Your eyes widened.

He was huge and pretty, twitching on his own and curving upward. Thick veins ran along his shaft, and his swollen pink tip glistened with precum.

You licked your lower lip, unable to hide your anticipation at the sight of him. Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss to the wet tip.

A strained whimper escaped him.

His hands immediately grabbed the sides of his clerical shirt, as though physically restraining himself from losing control over something as simple as your lips touching him.

“Look at me when I suck you, Fr. Jeon.” you said, raising a brow when you noticed him avoiding eye contact.

He bit his lower lip, trying to look down at you.

You gasped when his cock twitched the moment you made eye contact.

With a teasing look, you slowly sucked his mushroom tip while keeping your eyes on him, fluttering your lashes as you took him into your warm mouth.

He groaned harshly. He was about to close his eyes, but you shook your head immediately.

“Eyes on me, please.”

“Oh, God,” he whimpered, looking down at you through heavy-lidded eyes as you eagerly sucked his leaking tip.

You swirled your tongue along the underside of his cock, his eyes rolling back every time you repeated the motion. When you finally pulled away, you spat on the tip, your fingers immediately spreading your saliva and his precum along the shaft, leaving him even wetter and messier.

“Does it feel good?” you asked before taking his tip into your mouth again, trying to take him deeper until his mushroom head brushed the back of your throat. The upward curve of his cock dragged against the roof of your mouth, drawing another whimper from him.

“Y-You look like a slut,” he blurted out through a moan, his jaw repeatedly tensing, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was fisting his shirt.

You looked up at him and nodded obediently...like a good girl seeking praise.

He bit his lower lip. “My pretty slut.”

Fr. Jeon was trying so hard not to come. He wanted to savor the feeling of your tight mouth around him for as long as possible, wanted to hold on to it, to prolong it, but you were simply too much..too pretty, too warm. Every time you took him deeper, his resolve weakened a little more.

Your eyes were already beginning to redden, your throat struggling to accommodate his thickness. Drool slipped messily down your chin, and the wet, obscene sounds coming from your mouth only pushed him closer to the edge. Each swallow, each desperate attempt to take more of him, made his chest tighten with pleasure, his restraint slipping further and further away.

Whenever you pulled back to catch your breath, you would stroke his cock quickly with your hands and spit messily onto his tip.

Before the saliva could slide down his length, you would take him back into your mouth, licking along his shaft and tracing the prominent veins with your tongue before returning to the swollen underside of his head with soft, teasing kitten licks.

Using your free hand, you reached up to cup his balls gently, applying just enough pressure to make him whimper. The movement only made it harder for him to hold himself together, especially as you continued gagging on his cock like a good little slut.

The moment you noticed him clutching his shirt again, you immediately grabbed his hand.

“Use my mouth, Father,” you whispered, guiding his hand to your hair, silently urging him to take control.

Fr. Jeon groaned and shook his head, but your eagerness never wavered. You paused, waiting patiently for him, your eyes fixed on his face.

The moment you placed your hands obediently behind your back, he nearly cursed the Lord himself.

He weakly dragged a hand through your hair, gathering it away from your face before pulling you a little closer. His jaw tightened as he looked down at you, every ounce of restraint tested by the sight of your quiet obedience.

Grabbing your hair with both hands, he guided your face toward him before finally rolling his hips, slowly thrusting into your waiting mouth.

“God, you really are a slut,” he moaned, his composure unraveling a little more with every passing second.

Whenever he pulled back, you would twirl your tongue around the underside of his crown, earning a shaky whimper from him. Then, he would push you down forcefully onto his cock, your nose hitting his pubic hair as he lost whatever restraint he had left.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, sweetheart,” he whimpered.

Your mouth was already growing tired, but you remained determined, refusing to pull away. Tears gathered in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks as you struggled to keep up with him, yet you stayed exactly where he wanted you.

When he saw the tears in your eyes, he almost stopped. 

But you eagerly took him deeper, deliberately pushing forward until your face was pressed flush against his pubic hair. Your mouth struggled to accommodate his thickness, soft gargling sounds escaping despite your efforts to suppress them, yet you took everything he gave you.

“God, fuck.” his eyes rolled back as he released hot, thick cum into your mouth.

He was about to push you away when your hands tightened around the backs of his thighs, holding him firmly in place...determined not to let a single drop of his cum go to waste.

“Sweetheart,” he said weakly.

When you finally pulled away- his cock slipping from your lips, you stuck out your tongue to show him his thick, milky cum. Your lashes fluttered as you held his gaze for a moment, letting him take in the sight before you swallowed.

Delirious.

“The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Fr. Jeon stood before the congregation, one hand resting lightly against the pulpit as he prepared to proclaim the gospel.

“A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew.”

“Glory to You, O Lord,” you whispered under your breath, your sparkling eyes lifted up toward him.

You were in your usual favorite spot—in the front row, like his favorite little church girl—your hair tied with a white ribbon, a long modest dress hiding the sinful image beneath.

Every time he spoke, his eyes never lingered on you. He looked over the crowd like a devoted priest, delivering his words slowly, with quiet passion. And whenever he did happen to find you in the congregation, he would only glance past you, as if you were anyone else.

You smirked inwardly. Who would’ve known that this same priest was literally begging on his knees to eat your pussy inside the church office?

When Holy Communion came, you made sure to open the first few buttons of your dress, revealing the rosary necklace you were wearing—the small cross resting between the plush curve of your cleavage.

“The Body of… Christ,” Fr. Jeon said slowly, his eyes drifting down to the rosary wrapped around your neck, the cross sitting dangerously above your breasts.

“Amen,” you said softly, parting your lips for him.

You almost smiled in quiet victory when you saw his jaw tighten—his composure slowly, subtly fracturing beneath the weight of your sacrilegious act.

When he placed the host on your tongue, you leaned in just slightly too far, letting your tongue brush against his thumb in a fleeting, deliberate touch. So small it could be denied. So intentional it could not be mistaken.

A soft hum escaped you as you pulled back, watching the shift in him—the way his body stilled, the way his breath caught. You were already turning away when his voice followed you, low and controlled.

“Meet me after this.”

You looked up at him, briefly thrown, but his gaze had already returned to the ritual at hand, as if nothing had happened.

Delight curled through you at the sight of him unraveling so carefully in public, holding himself together by force alone while you watched the cracks form in real time.

And when you returned to your seat, you could still feel it—the difference. His voice had deepened into something sharper, more distant. His posture stiffened as he finished the mass, each word now measured, restrained, as though he were forcing himself back into place one line at a time.

Wicked.

Sitting properly on the couch in his office, you waited patiently for Fr. Jeon. It was the first time you would see each other up close after mass, and the thought alone made a soft, bubbling excitement bloom in your chest.

You even brought a small box of cookies for him, carefully balanced in your lap, as if sweetness alone could disguise the anticipation curling beneath your ribs.

When the office door finally opened, you looked up at once and smiled.

He stood there still in his liturgical vestments. Over his white alb, he wore a flowing chasuble that draped heavily over his shoulders, embroidered gold catching the afternoon light that spilled through the glass windows like something almost sacred in itself. A white stole rested beneath it all, marking him clearly as the celebrant of the mass, a figure meant to be untouchable.

He looked absolutely breathtaking—so holy, so distant, so unreachable.

And yet, you already had him like a servant—willing, obedient, on his knees for you.

When he walked toward you, his expression was serious and unyielding. You stood up quickly, excitement lifting you, holding out your small gift for him.

“Good afternoon, Fr. Jeon. I got you cooki—”

The cookies slipped from your hands as he suddenly closed the distance, his hand wrapping around your throat. The rosary beads pressed sharply into your skin.

“I told you...that rosaries are not meant to be worn around your neck, didn’t I?” he said in a mocking tone, his voice low and controlled. His eyes looked darker behind his glasses.

His liturgical vestments suddenly felt overwhelming in this close space, no longer distant or ceremonial, but imposing, almost suffocating, as if you were only now realizing the weight of him in this proximity.

You gasped as his fingers tightened slightly around your throat, not enough to hurt—just enough to demand an answer.

“Y-You did, Father.”

“Mhm. I did,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Didn’t I?”

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the shift in him—how his composure had snapped so suddenly, as if the thin thread of his restraint, stretched in the presence of the Lord, had finally given way.

Dominance.

You gasped when he kissed you hard, cutting off your breath in an instant. His other hand bunched up the long skirts of your dress, hot palms slipping beneath the fabric to cup your warm pussy.

“You’re so impure,” he chuckled darkly, his fingers tracing over your clothed clit.

A soft moan escaped you as you tried to wriggle in his hold, but his grip at your throat kept you firmly in place.

“Sit on my desk and spread your legs,” he commanded, releasing you all at once—both your throat and your pussy.

With shaky legs, you moved toward his desk, climbing onto it and bunching your long skirt up around your waist before slowly spreading your legs wide for him.

Fr. Jeon walked toward you, his gaze fixed on the sight of you—so openly willing for him. The rosary cross rested between your breasts like a sin made visible, the white ribbons in your hair now looking almost tainted, your dress bunched up enough to expose your wet cunt to him.

His fingers closed around the rosary you were wearing. Your breath hitched as he slowly pulled it, forcing your neck to tilt forward with the motion.

“You’re such a whore, wearing this around me,” he said in a condescending tone, drawing you closer until he pressed a shallow kiss to your lips.

“I-Isn’t it pretty?” you asked weakly, still trying to tease him.

He let out a humorless chuckle. Without another word, he reached for the scripture on his desk. “I’ll show you what’s pretty.”

You gasped as he pulled the rosary again, forcing you forward while his other hand held the bible. “Open your mouth.”

Confused, you slowly obeyed, your eyes widening when he suddenly placed the book between your teeth.

“Hold still and bite the scripture,” he commanded sharply before spreading your legs wider.

You bit down hard on the book as he suddenly slapped your cunt.

“Mhmp!” you whimpered, eyes watering from the intensity of it.

Fr. Jeon raised a brow. He lifted his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, his gaze locked on you as he slowly dragged his tongue over them. You bit down harder on the book when he used his saliva-coated fingers to slap your cunt again.

“Shh, quiet, sweetheart… there are other people outside- praying,” he said mockingly, tugging lightly on the rosary around your neck.

You bit down harder when he slapped your cunt again, pulling harshly on the rosary around your neck whenever your whimpers escaped.

“Poor baby… you want me to finger you?” he cooed, slapping your cunt once more. Your panties were already soaked, your arousal building from the relentless stimulation.

You eagerly nodded, drool spilling past your lips and onto the scripture beneath you. Your neck was beginning to ache and swell each time he tugged on the beads.

“Do you deserve it?” he asked, twirling the rosary between his fingers, playing with it slowly.

A tear slipped down your cheek when he slapped your cunt again. Your thighs tried to wriggle on the table, but he only pulled harder on the rosary in response.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m finally going to give you what you want,” he said, letting go of you.

Your eyes almost rolled back when you saw him kneel.

You drooled messily against the book when he flipped your panties aside, three of his fingers immediately slipping inside you to stretch your cunt.

“So tight, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your clit while his fingers continued to thrust inside you.

Each time his fingers pulled back, a fresh gush of wetness spilled out, revealing just how needy and aroused you were.

Looking down, you saw how godly he looked—kneeling so close to your pussy, lips parted as he watched his fingers disappear in and out of your tight hole.

“Mhmph,” you whimpered, his fingers knuckles deep inside you, brushing against your spongy spot and leaving you wriggly and tingly.

“You’re so soaked, sweetheart. It’s so hard to rub you properly like this… so, so wet.”

When he saw how restless you were getting, he suddenly removed his fingers. You were about to frown when he stood up, your eyes widening as he began removing his chasuble and slacks.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he taunted, finally revealing his hard cock.

It was already thick and hard, twitching on its own before he even touched it. Prominent veins pulsed along the girth, and his mushroom tip looked swollen and flushed. Using his fingers, he squeezed the plump head, drawing out more precum before spreading it along the shaft. He slowly rolled the foreskin down, his gaze fixed on your helpless body.

“Do you want this cock inside your tight little pussy?” he said breathily, jerking his hard cock in his hand…his eyes were heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted.

You nodded eagerly, tears spilling down your cheeks from anticipation. Your pussy pulsed hard, leaking more of your arousal down onto the table beneath you.

He chuckled, gripping both of your thighs and spreading them wider for him. “Hold your skirt up, sweetheart,” he murmured, as your long skirt kept drifting down while he positioned you.

With weak hands, you slowly bunched your skirt up. Your jaw was already aching from biting down on the book, but you were determined to be a good girl for him, biting down harder as your eyes turned red and your cheeks flushed, warm and swollen.

When he positioned his mushroom tip against your slit, you almost dropped the book. The feeling of his wet cock against your folds sent a sharp jolt through you.

“Gonna fuck you now, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your teeth nearly ached from how hard you bit down when he suddenly pushed inside you. Your tight walls immediately sucked him in. You watched his lips part in shock, his eyes rolling back for a moment—before he could even thrust, you felt him spilling inside you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he cursed under his breath, trembling as he suddenly came so hard inside you, his lips parting at how good your pussy felt.

You were so warm and tight that he was already convulsing. His grip on your waist tightened so hard it was almost painful. You were shocked—you hadn’t expected him to cum that quickly, but then again, it had been so long since he’d done anything like this. The pent-up frustration was overwhelming, and the moment he felt you, he was already shaking.

When you saw him trembling, you slowly removed the book from your lips. Your jaw ached, but you still managed to give him a small, weak smile.

“Mhm, am I tight, Fr. Jeon?” you whispered weakly, feeling him twitch inside you, filling you with so much cum that it had you feeling completely full.

"T-Too tight." he groaned.

His arms were growing weaker, still trying to push his cum deeper and deeper into your cunt. His cock was already overstimulated and softening, but he still wanted his cum buried deep inside you, some of it already dripping down your thighs.

He groaned, pushing his cock deeper until he was finally hard again. You could feel his mushroom tip swell once more, your pussy stretching around his thickening girth.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at you. He had come so hard he had nearly forgotten about the book he made you bite down on, his rational thoughts slipping away completely, leaving only the heat and the feeling of you.

You bit your lip, opening your legs wider. “Yeah? Do you miss having such a warm pussy around your cock?”

His lips parted...his right hand returned to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat.

“What a dirty mouth you have,” he whispered breathily, like he was only just remembering why he was fucking you so hard in the first place.

He squeezed your throat, earning a loud whimper from you.

Before you could coo at him, he was already flipping you over, bending you against his desk. He immediately grabbed the book, shoving it forcefully into your mouth.

“You think I’m done, huh?” he taunted, kneeling down behind you.

You groaned, biting down on the scripture again, whimpering loudly when you felt him spreading your wet pussy from behind.

“Push my cum out for me,” he said, opening your folds and waiting for you to push it out.

You contracted your pussy, and a gush of his milky white cum spilled from your used hole. Before it could even drip onto the floor, his tongue was already there, scooping it up and swallowing everything until no trace was left.

When he stood up, you were left a trembling mess. Your eyes widened as he pulled on the rosary necklace, the beads wrapping around your throat like a collar. He used it as leverage before pushing his cock back inside you.

“Shh… bite down on the scripture. Let it silence your impurity,” he murmured behind you, thrusting deeper and harder until your body was nearly bouncing against the table from the force of it.

You wanted to moan so badly. The way his mushroom tip kept brushing against your g-spot felt so overwhelming. When he angled his hips in slow circular motions, your weak lips finally dropped the book, and you gasped as it hit the floor with a dull thud.

The moment he felt you slipping out of control, he stopped—only for you to immediately reach for the book. Before you could even grab it, he flipped you onto your back again.

“Fucking whore, can’t follow simple instructions while my cock’s deep inside you, huh?” he taunted, ripping the buttons of your dress just enough to expose your breasts.

“I-I’m sorry, I—”

You shrieked loudly when he suddenly slapped your nipples, the area turning immediately pink.

“Stay there,” he commanded.

You went still at once, your weak eyes following his movements as he reached into the bottom cabinet of his desk.

When he stood up again, he was holding a candle and a box of matches. “Hold this, sweetheart.”

He usually used those candles during scripture readings, letting the flame illuminate the pages.

You held it for him as instructed, watching as he struck a match and lit it, the small flame flickering to life before he set the match aside.

You turned slightly, glancing toward the window. There was still daylight outside—enough to see clearly. Before you could ask what he needed it for, he took the candle from your hand.

“Fr. Jeon, w-what are you—”

Your eyes widened when he tilted the candle downward, the wax threatening to drip onto your breasts. You gasped sharply when it finally landed on your nipple.

“Does it feel good?” he whispered, lowering the candle toward the other bud.

When the hot wax fell onto your other nipple, you moaned loudly, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as pain and pleasure collided.

It was hot and shocking—yet, for some reason, the sting felt addictive, almost intoxicating.

“Y-Yes, Father.” you bit your lower lip hard, watching as the candle was now directed toward your inner thighs.

He raised a brow, your nipples already covered in white wax. “Yeah? Does this get you wet?”

Before you could answer, he was already pouring hot wax onto your left inner thigh. The pain there was sharper, more intense—like the skin was far more delicate and sensitive. When you instinctively tried to close your legs, he held them open, spreading you wider as he moved the candle to drip more wax onto your right inner thigh.

“Oh, God,” you moaned loudly, the hot wax dripping dangerously close to your wet pussy.

You were already trembling. The mix of heat and pain felt overwhelming yet addictive, tears falling uncontrollably down your cheeks.

Fr. Jeon chuckled at you. “What a pretty little pain slut… I’m supposed to punish you with this, but you’re dripping like a whore.”

He grabbed your cheeks, raising the candle up toward your face. “Make a wish,” he whispered.

You looked up at him with weak eyes, your nipples and inner thighs still burning and oversensitive from the wax. With a faint, shaky smile, you told him your wish.

“Fuck me like a slut, Fr. Jeon." you said breathily.

He growled harshly, stepping back a little to admire his work on your body, how the wax was covering your skin like a sin, how your pussy was so swollen and red, yet your hole was still eagerly twitching to be used.

He tilted his head. “You want that, sweetheart?” he said sweetly, his tone contradicting what he had just done to you.

You nodded eagerly. "Please, use my body like a whore, cum inside me until I’m dripping full of your cum, abuse my tight little pussy until I’m all loose and gaping, release all your forbidden frustrations and destroy my dignity.” 

Fallen.

You couldn’t count the number of times you came around his cock that night—his cock thrusting so hard and deep inside you that you could feel how stretched your pussy was.

Every time you tried to fight him, he would push your body down onto the desk, threatening to silence you with scripture whenever you tried to break free from his hold.

When you thought he was done, he would maneuver your body again, spreading your legs wide so he could fuck you hard. His cross necklace would dangle in your face with every thrust. Whenever you moaned too loudly, he would punish you by dripping hot wax onto your inner thighs.

He would always condescendingly praise you, telling you what a poor little girl you were, letting him use you for his own sick pleasure.

"God, you'd let me use you whenever I want wouldn't you? Letting me fuck this tight pussy inside the church, like a good little christian." he would whisper.

It was so lewd when he asked you to touch yourself using the hand that wore his birthstone bracelet, urging you to part your lips for him, watching how the beads would brush over your clit every time you fucked your fingers inside your used, swollen hole.

"That's right...stretch your pussy, sweetheart. I want you nice and gaping when I fuck you again."

Then he would pull your body up, forcing you to bounce on his cock while pressing the beads deeper into your throat. He held both of your cheeks with his free hand so he could continually spit into your parted mouth, watching it drip messily down your chin like a cheap filthy whore. "I love how sinful and dirty you are...so perfect for me."

Capitulated.

You never forgot him, after that night he vanished like a wind.

When you heard that he had suddenly been appointed to another city, it felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet. Overnight, he was simply gone. The weekly sunday mass was no longer presided over by him, and no matter how many people you asked, nobody seemed to have a clear answer as to why.

All you heard were rumors.

Some said he wanted to experience ministry in a different city. Others claimed he had become so busy that he was constantly traveling between churches, handling responsibilities in several places at once. Every explanation sounded vague, rehearsed, and unsatisfying.

You wanted to believe them. But you couldn't.

For months, you carried that bitterness inside you. A part of you convinced yourself that he had simply left. That perhaps everything you shared had meant far less to him than it had to you. The thought hurt more than you cared to admit, especially because, between the two of you, you had been the dishonest one. You had been the one who approached him with hidden intentions, who slowly seduced him, who carefully led him into your snare while pretending to be an innocent church girl.

Yet somewhere along the way, things had changed.

For all your lies, for all your schemes and carefully crafted devotion, you couldn't deny what had happened to your own heart. You had fallen in love with his kindness. Not because he was a priest. Not because he was forbidden. Not because winning his attention felt like a challenge.

But because it was him.

It was the way he remembered small details about you. The way he listened whenever you spoke. The way he always treated people with patience and warmth. Somewhere between the scripture lessons, the afternoon conversations, and the countless boxes of cookies, your feelings had become real.

Then, one afternoon, a letter arrived.

Your hands trembled as you opened it, your heart pounding with a mixture of hope and dread. As your eyes moved across the page, tears immediately gathered in them.

All this time, you had believed he left because he wanted to.

The truth was far worse.

Someone had noticed. Someone had seen the way he treated you differently from everyone else—the way his gaze lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened whenever he spoke to you, the way he always seemed to make time for you no matter how busy he was. And eventually, they had discovered what happened behind the closed doors of the church office.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you continued reading, your vision blurring with every line. For the first time since he disappeared, you finally understood why he had left.

The moment the parish discovered what had happened, he immediately apologized—to the church, to his superiors, and most of all, to the Lord. He had even offered his resignation, believing he was no longer worthy of his position.

But they refused. The parish forgave him.

They told him he was too kind, too devoted, too valuable to lose over a mistake. Instead of removing him from the priesthood, they gave him a chance to start over in a different city, far away from the rumors and whispers. They told him that what happened was a test of faith. A temptation. That God would always be stronger in his heart than any earthly attachment.

You were the temptation they spoke about.

You never wrote back, you never tried contacting him again. Because if he had truly wanted you, he would have resigned. He would have walked away from the collar, from the church, from the life he had chosen long before you entered it. 

He would have chosen you.

Instead, when forced to decide between you and God, he surrendered himself to God. And that answer was enough.

With a deep breath, you entered the confession booth. You wanted to confess your sins, you wanted to move on.

It had been two years, and somehow you were still holding on to him. 

Whenever Sana mentioned his name, your eyes would sting with unshed tears. Whenever you heard stories about him…how successful he had become, how respected he was as a priest now…an ache would settle deep inside your chest.

You could no longer step inside a church without thinking about him.

The stained-glass windows, the scent of incense, the quiet hum of prayer before mass. Every sacred thing had become tangled with the memory of him, until devotion and desire were no longer things you could separate.

So, with a heavy heart, you finally decided to let him go.

Sitting inside the confessional that afternoon, your fingers twisted nervously in your lap as you gathered the courage to speak.

A thin wooden partition stood between you, a barrier meant to separate priest from sinner, confession from judgment, devotion from temptation.

“Bless me, Father…. for I have sinned.” you said softly, behind the confession grille.

Your voice…soft and unforgettable, echoed through the small confessional booth. 

The familiar scent of vanilla wrapped around him like a memory he had spent years trying to forget. 

“Sweetheart.” 

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[jungkakes]

I Got Ways | Jeon Jeongguk x Reader

Pairing: ex boyfriend jeongguk x female reader

Warnings: sex with your ex, established relationship, mafia jeongguk if you squint really hard, you're exes but can't stay away from each other, drinking, vaping, oral - female receiving, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, dirty talk kind of, implied consensual rough sex, implied breeding kink, you're utterly obsessed with each other it's quite sickening, basically me telling reader to stand the fuck up the entire time, possessive jeongguk, controlling jeongguk, toxic relationships, biker jeongguk

Word count: 20,322

Summary: You know how to leave Jeongguk. You just don't know how to stay away.

Cross posted on AO3

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Inspired by:

***I don’t condone nor am I trying to glamorize toxic relationships btw. This is just an idea I’ve wanted to write. Got a problem? Don’t read! This one’s for those who get it.***

The restaurant felt louder than it needed to be. Not because it actually was. Nothing about it was remarkable enough to justify that kind of noise but everything in it seemed to be happening just slightly out of sync along with your patience.

The clink of cutlery against ceramic. The forced laugh from the couple two tables over. The low, continuous hum of conversation that faded into something like static.

And him.

He was talking again. You weren’t even sure what about anymore.

Something to do with his job. Or his plans. Or a story that had already looped twice with slightly different embellishments. As if he was trying to convince you of it as much as he was entertaining you with it.

You nodded anyway. Smiled at the right intervals. Tilted your head in the appropriate places. It was almost impressive from how good you were at pretending to be present.

“I actually told my colleague," He was saying, leaning towards you as if this was a confession, “That I might be moving into wealth management full time next year. There’s just more opportunity there, you know? More money. Less hours at the office. More time for travel.” He leaned back with a cocky smile, lips at the edge of his wine glass, “And of course more time for a pretty little lady like you as well.” He gave you a wink. 

You blinked slowly. Wealth management. Money. Travel. Little lady? Bruh. You took a sip of water just to give your mouth something to do besides sigh under your breath, “That sounds… great. Love that for you.” You forced a pained smile. Liar. Your eyes drifted down towards the table. To the edge of the wine glass you hadn’t bothered touching. The condensation sliding down it in lazy streaks. You watched it like it was more interesting than the conversation. Probably because it was. 

“Exactly!” He said, completely missing the fact that you had mentally checked out of this conversation fifteen minutes ago, “And my buddy keeps telling me I'd be crazy not to make the jump. I mean, the earning potential alone-”

You nodded robotically, “Mmm.”

“Once you start managing higher value clients…” He trailed on. 

“Right.”

“You really open a lot of doors for yourself.”

“Oh yeah. For sure. Totally.” You weren't even listening anymore. You knew the general shape of what he was saying. Money. Career. Himself. The conversation felt less like a date and more like a podcast you couldn't turn off. Your gaze drifted across the restaurant. Looking at the servers weaving between tables. Staring at the city lights shining through the windows.

Placing your attention on anything but him.

He kept talking. You stopped listening.

At some point, you started thinking about your couch. About your bed. About silence. 

Solace. The one thing that didn’t require you to perform.

That was when it hit you. Recognition. That sinking realization that you were already counting down the minutes until you could leave. The truth was, a man could tell you everything about himself for three hours straight and still never tell you anything that mattered.

You glanced back at him. Still talking. Completely captivated by the sound of his own voice. 

For the first time all evening, you understood why dating had felt so exhausting lately. It wasn't because you were comparing everyone to… him. 

It was because you had once been loved by someone who paid attention… Someone who noticed when your smile was fake… Someone who could tell you were bored without you saying a word… Someone who would have stopped talking ten minutes ago and asked what was wrong... Other people simply could not do it for you anymore. 

You forced the thoughts away as your mind began to stray because the last thing you wanted to think about on a date with another man… was your ex boyfriend.

When the check finally arrived, you nearly exhaled out loud in relief. He reached for it immediately, of course. Insisted, of course. As though this was still part of the game he thought he was winning.

You didn’t argue about picking up the check. Didn’t try to pay. The dinner you had with him was mediocre anyway. Still sitting at the top of your stomach and threatening to give you indigestion. It wasn’t an upscale restaurant. Not that you were expecting to be wined and dined. However, for a person who claimed to be working in finance or… whatever the fuck he said he did, he was hyping this place up as if it were anything to write home about. 

He mumbled something you didn’t hear as he took his credit card out. Intentionally flashing the expensive watch on his wrist. Turning the gold of the credit card towards you as if having that type of card mattered to you. You almost yawned. Having to stifle it down quickly before he noticed that you were falling asleep in front of him. 

You simply nodded again at the next thing he said. Smiled again. And then the chair scraped across the floor of the restaurant when you stood up with haste. You tried to leave first. But he insisted on walking you out. Insisted to wait for your cab to arrive. And insisted on keeping you company the entire while too. 

God, he was fucking annoying. 

Outside, the air hit your face like a reset button. Sharp and real. You inhaled too deeply, like your lungs had been waiting for permission to breathe. You had long forgotten he was standing at your side until you heard his voice again, 

“Tonight was really great.” He said beside you. Inching forward closer. A firm hand reaching out to rest against the small of your back as he asked, “Did you have a good time?” 

You had your eyes on your phone. Barely hearing the question. Tracking the rideshare you had ordered and silently pleading for the driver to step on the gas. 

Estimated time of arrival - 2 minutes. 

Two minutes too fucking long. 

You felt the foreign touch against the lower part of your back. Just barely above the curve of your ass. Too bold. Too confident. Too much for a first date. You looked at him and nodded quickly. Forcing yourself to smile once more as you adjusted the strap of your purse on your shoulder. Almost shaking his touch off from you with the motion. 

He looked expectant. As if he was waiting for your response. Right. 

You hesitated for half a second too long with your answer. Weighing between if you wanted to tell him the cold hard truth. Thinking if you wanted to tell him he was unseasoned and boring. That he didn’t ask you once about yourself. And when you did talk about yourself, he seemed uninterested. 

You thought against it. Valuing your life more than speaking the truth. He was a man after all. A man you didn’t know like that. You didn’t trust what his reaction would be to your brutal honesty. Instead, you braced yourself for what was to come next. Praying for your ride to hurry the fuck up,

“Yeah.” You lied. And then lied again, “It was nice. I had a good time.”

“Text me?” He asked with a smile that was too confident to be hopeful. 

“Absolutely.” You replied automatically. Your voice sounding a bit too robotic. You knew you wouldn’t be texting him at all. Almost unlocking your phone in front of him to block his number right there and then. 

He closed in towards you for a hug and you awkwardly leaned in as well. But as his arms went around you, he quickly turned his head towards your lips. You physically recoiled. Craning your head so far away you could have fallen backwards as you cleared your throat, “I don’t really kiss on the first date. Sorry.” You muttered, stepping back just enough and extending your hand out towards him for a handshake instead.

“Playing hard to get, are we?”  He smirked, taking your hand within his own and shaking it, “I do like a challenge.” He smiled teasingly at you, leaning down to press a kiss over the back of your hand. 

Your eye only twitched in response and you pulled your hand away quickly. Ignoring him, you turned away. Phone buzzing in your hand just as your ride arrived. You gave your date a small wave as you opened the backseat to the rideshare and got inside. Not bothering to look to see if he was waving back at all. You greeted the driver and heaved a sigh as you slumped back against the seat of the vehicle. Eyes closing for a long awaited moment of peace. 

You felt safer in the car of a random stranger than you did at all in that restaurant. Your phone buzzed again and you didn’t even need to check the name of the contact messaging you to feel your shoulders loosen.

the thorn in my side <3 - 11:02PM:

How’d it go?

Hope this one was better? 

You stared at the screen while the vehicle moved through the city. The hum of the car’s engine filled the space where conversation should have been. Thank fuck your driver wasn’t a yapper today. 

Your reflection flickered faintly in the window when you looked outside. City lights and street lamps fragmented with motion. Traffic slowed around you. Headlights passing too close, then fading. The city continuing without pause. You sat there in the quiet stillness, feeling like you were only just catching up to yourself again.

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Short and exhausted. Somehow this man had known exactly when the date would be over. Exactly when you would be checking your phone. And exactly when you would need an out.

Your thumb hovered over the screen. You could already picture him waiting for your answer. Probably sprawled out on his couch. Probably pretending not to care while checking his phone every five minutes anyway.

The thought made your chest ache in a way you didn't anticipate. But who were you kidding? No matter how hard you tried to move forward, your ex was always there. Choosing not to stand in your way. But to be waiting patiently at the finish line.

You looked back down at the messages.

Hope this one was better?

You thought about the date. About the endless talking. The fake laughs. The forced smiles. The way you had spent half the evening wishing you were literally anywhere else.

Then you thought about your ex. About the way he would always notice immediately that something was off. The way he could ask one question and somehow pull the truth out of you before you even realized you were telling it. The way he listened.

The answer to his text was embarrassingly obvious. The date had never stood a chance. The guy wasn’t terrible. You’ve been out with worse. It was just that somewhere along the way, you had gotten used to being known. And now every conversation felt a little emptier when it wasn't with him.

A humorless smile pulled at your lips. Then you typed:

I would like to disappear... Immediately. 

Three dots appeared way too quickly. Then another message popped up:

the thorn in my side <3 - 11:05PM:

Come over.

No question mark. Certainty. That was just Jeon Jeongguk’s thing. 

You didn’t think about it. Leaning over towards the driver apologetically and asking him to change the location he was heading in. He didn’t mind. It wasn’t a huge change. You and Jeongguk lived close to each other. And so, you went. 

His place was warm when you got there. Not temperature wise. You couldn’t even tell anymore. It was more in the way the light spilled out from inside like it had been waiting for you. Welcoming and familiar.

You knocked once against apartment number 0613 and the door opened instantly.

Jeongguk stood there in a plain black longsleeve, sleeves pushed slightly up along his forearms like he had been in the middle of doing something before you arrived. The front of his shirt was a bit wet. A splotch of wetness right in the middle of his abdomen. You knew him well enough to guess he had been washing dishes.  

His eyes trailed over you in one clean sweep. That dress. It was a simple outfit. Black silk dress that caught the light every time you moved. Falling cleanly against your frame without needing anything extra. Your hair was down, cascading over your shoulders and down your back. Softening the sharp edge of the smoky makeup around your eyes.

It wasn't just the dress or the hair or the makeup though. It was the way you carried yourself. The quiet confidence. The ease. The way you seemed completely unaware of the effect you had on anyone. 

Jeongguk’s gaze lingered a second too long before he looked away. Then he looked back at you again because somehow every time he thought he had gotten used to you, you managed to surprise him again.

You had been together for years. He knew every expression, every habit, every version of you. And yet, moments like this caught him off guard. As if he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile he tried… and failed to hide.

"Wow." Was all he managed to say. Not because he didn't have more to say but more because suddenly no words seemed enough. He didn’t comment on the way you looked further. Instead, he stepped aside and said, “Come on in.” 

And you did exactly that.

You felt Jeongguk’s eyes on your back as you entered. And the second you walked past him, the scent of your perfume wrapped around him. It was familiar enough to make his jaw clench. 

You kicked off your heels near the door, completely missing the way his gaze followed the movement. Or maybe you didn’t miss it. Maybe you just chose not to acknowledge it.

The silk black dress clung to your every curve as you moved through the apartment, catching against your figure with every step. Your hair swished with your every move. Jeongguk’s longing gaze followed after you. Eyes on your back. Trailing down to the small of your waist and curve of your ass. He reminisced about the days where he got to hold you there. To touch you there. 

It was already killing him. 

This was exactly why having you here was a terrible idea. Even if it was his own stupidly sick idea. You looked like the kind of mistake Jeongguk never learned from. The kind of mistake he would make over and over again without hesitation. And the kicker was that you had no idea what you were doing to him. Or maybe you did.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, something in your chest unclenched with relief. The feeling that spread over you was too comfortable. Instinctive. Homely. And that was exactly the issue because this was the last place you should have been.

You knew that.

Knew it every single time your hand hovered over his contact. Every time you found yourself typing a message before you could talk yourself out of it. Every time your feet somehow carried you back to his door.

Jeongguk was your ex. And you had broken up with him for a reason.

Not because you didn't love him. That had been the worst part. You loved him too much. Still did. You loved him enough that leaving had felt like ripping something out of yourself. But loving Jeongguk had eventually started feeling like carrying something fragile between both your hands all the time.

His jealousy had seeped into everything. 

First it was the questions. Where did you go? Then the tension. With who? Then the way his mood would shift whenever another man's name came up. Just a coworker, huh? The way he would insist he was fine when he clearly wasn't. I ain’t mad. 

And then it was the way you slowly started measuring your words before speaking them. 

His possessiveness drowned you.

You started anticipating reactions. Started managing feelings that weren't yours to manage. He started acting like he owned you. Like you were branded with his name on your skin as if you were some sort of prized cattle. It was sickening. He was sickening. 

There were too many instances for you to point at one moment and say there. 

It was constant. Suffocating. 

And so fucking addicting. 

Addicting because nobody had ever looked at you the way Jeongguk did. As though you were the only thing in the room worth seeing. Addicting because every fight ended with him pulling you back in. His voice softer, his hands gentler. Making you forget why you were angry in the first place.

Addicting because he knew exactly where your cracks were and exactly how to fill them.

It wasn’t that Jeongguk was easy.

He was never easy.

Jeongguk had always been the kind of person who took up more space than he was supposed to. In rooms. In silence. In your head. He asked questions he already knew the answer to just to hear you say them out loud. He noticed things you didn’t even realize you were hiding. He remembered everything. Down to the smallest details you wished he would forget.

And he never did what you expected.

That was one of the terrible parts of being entangled with Jeongguk. How consistently he refused to fit into any version of him you tried to prepare for.

When you expected distance, he closed it.

When you expected anger, he went quiet instead. Watching you like he was choosing his next move rather than reacting to yours.

When you expected him to let you go, he tightened his grip on the situation without ever actually touching you. As though he didn’t need to physically hold you in order to keep you exactly where you were.

Even the smallest things were wrong in a way that felt deliberate. If you thought he would ignore you, he showed up. If you thought he would push, he pulled back just enough to make you step forward on your own. If you thought he would be soft, he turned unreadable as if he was protecting something you couldn’t see yet.

It made you feel constantly off balance around him. As though you were always reacting a second too late to a game you didn’t remember agreeing to play. And the strange part was that it never felt random.

It felt… calculated. Not in a cold way, but in the way that suggested he was always paying attention. Always adjusting. As if he was reading you as you moved. Anticipating you before you even fully understood yourself.

That was what made it impossible to fully detach from him.

People were supposed to be predictable in some way. Even the complicated ones eventually formed patterns you could map out. Jeongguk didn’t. Or maybe he did but only for you, only when you started thinking you had finally figured him out.

The moment you settled into certainty, he switched up again.

And it left you stuck in this frustrating cycle where nothing stayed stable long enough to become safe. Not his anger. Not his affection. Not even his absence because even when Jeongguk wasn’t there, it felt like he still was. As if he had just stepped out of frame rather than out of your life.

You would catch yourself trying to predict him anyway, every time.

What he would say. What he would do. Whether he would finally act like someone who was supposed to be in love with you. But every single time, he proved you wrong in a way that felt personal. It was like he knew exactly which version of him you were bracing for and deliberately chose another.

He could be obsessive in a way that should have pushed you away completely. The late night calls that came even when you didn’t answer your phone. The way he would show up “coincidentally” at places you mentioned days ago. As if the world was just a map he could redraw to find you on it. The way he would look at you like you were a type of drug he couldn’t put down, even when you were trying to leave his orbit.

It should have felt infuriating. Sometimes it was.

Yet there was something about the way he paid attention that made everything else feel dull in comparison. As if no one else had ever really seen you until he did. Even if the way he saw you came with weight. With pressure. With the constant awareness that you were never entirely out of his thoughts, even when you weren't with him.

Jeongguk was infuriating in the way he never fully let you go. Even when you weren’t together. As though distance was just a temporary inconvenience rather than an ending.

And maybe that was what you hated admitting most. With Jeongguk, nothing ever felt halfway. When he was in your life, he was in it. When he was gone, he wasn’t really gone but just waiting at the edges of it. Like a shadow that knew exactly when you would turn around.

Other people were simpler. Safer. Easier to understand.

But they didn’t make you feel like this.

Didn’t make you hyper aware of every heartbeat, every glance, every decision that somehow always circled back to him.

Jeongguk truly was the thorn in your side. He annoyed you. He overwhelmed you. He crossed lines you pretended not to redraw for him over and over again.

And yet…

There was always that moment. That crack in your resolve. Usually late at night. Usually when you were alone. When your phone felt too quiet and your thoughts got too loud. When you could almost convince yourself you were done.

And then you would remember the way he would say your name like it mattered more than anything else in the room. The way that every time he touched you, it felt as though he was igniting a fire in the coldest part of your heart. The way he would be in your ear whispering all the things he knew to say to make your legs spread wider and your back arch higher. 

And suddenly “done” stopped feeling real because Jeongguk wasn’t something you got over.

He was something you returned to.

Every fucking time.

For every moment he made you feel trapped, there was another where he made you feel chosen. For every time you thought you had enough, he would give you just enough of himself to make you stay.

Jeongguk had cast a magical spell over you that enchanted you. He treated you too well. Fucked you even better. He was a good lover. The perfect lover despite these flaws. He was consumed by you. Gave you anything you wanted and more. You were happy with him. You saw well into your future with him. 

So, when he got like that. When he would grab your phone and check every text message, app and everything in between when you weren’t looking. When he would purposely hover around your conversations when you hung out with his friends. When he would start arguments with you because someone barely glanced your way. You tolerated it. You would diffuse the situation and calm him down because you loved him. You wanted him. 

People always said you two would last until the end of time. But nobody saw what happened behind closed doors. Nobody saw the way Jeongguk doubted himself. The way he would search your face after every argument like he was already bracing for you to leave. The way he would ask questions he already knew the answers to.

You still love me, right? You're not bored of me? You're not talking to someone else?

It didn't matter how many times you reassured him. It never lasted. The problem was never you. The problem was that somewhere along the way, Jeongguk became convinced he wasn't enough. No amount of love could fix that for him and it turned to an obsession. 

So, he looked for proof. Proof that you still wanted him. Proof that you still chose him. Proof that he wasn't about to lose the best thing that had ever happened to him. And eventually, that fear started bleeding into everything.

Every late reply. Every canceled plan. Every male coworker. Every moment you wanted space.

What started as insecurity slowly became suspicion. Then possessiveness. Then control.

Until one day you realized you were spending more time convincing him you loved him than actually being loved. Eventually, you looked at the life you were building together and realized you couldn't keep living like that. That broke something inside you. 

The hardest part was that you understood where it came from. You knew Jeongguk wasn't trying to hurt you. You knew every jealous question came from fear. Every accusation came from panic. Every possessive grip came from the terror of losing you. But understanding someone's pain doesn't make it hurt less when they hand it to you.

After years of carrying insecurities that never belonged to you, your shoulders finally gave out.

And then... you left.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn't mutual. And sure as hell wasn’t easy either. 

Somehow, despite all of it… despite the tears and the heartbreak. Despite the promises that distance was necessary… Jeongguk was still the person you wanted when things hurt.

That was the part you never understood. Not why you missed him. But why you missed him like this. Why every disappointing date somehow ended with thoughts of him. Why every lonely night seemed to circle back to the same place. Why your mind wandered to him while you sat there listening to another scrub trying to convince you they were worth your time. 

You always hoped he would text you. Always knew he would invite you over. 

And you did the same thing every time. You came back every single time. 

To this apartment. To this door. To Jeongguk. 

You should have gone home. You should have learned how to sit with your own loneliness by now. Instead, you were standing in your ex boyfriend’s living room, already feeling your shoulders relax.

Already feeling safer.

And judging by the way Jeongguk was watching you from across the room, he knew it too.

Which only made standing here in this fuck ass apartment more dangerous. 

He already had a bottle of wine open. And it was the good wine too. Jeongguk never bought the shitty booze. Not for you anyways. He knew what you wanted but asked anyway, “Want some wine?” and you mumbled a yes while you watched him pour the alcohol into the glass without asking how much you wanted. He already knew the answer. 

Up to the top. 

He knew you better than you wanted to admit. 

Anyone could learn your favourite wine. Your coffee order. The movies you always watched because you enjoyed rewatching the same thing rather than starting something new. 

Jeongguk knew the things that happened before those things. 

The way your shoulders got tight when you were overwhelmed. How you would pretend you weren't hungry and then steal food off his plate twenty minutes later. Or the difference between your real smile and the one you used when you were trying to convince everyone, including yourself that you were fine.

It was years of accumulated knowledge. Thousands of tiny observations filed away and remembered whether you wanted him to remember them or not. And what annoyed you was that he never seemed to forget any of it.

He just fucking knew you. It was sickening. Just like he knew you would end up on the left side of the couch. Knew you would curl your legs underneath you after ten minutes. Knew you would complain about the date eventually even if you swore you weren't going to talk about it.

Sometimes it felt like Jeongguk had spent years studying you while everyone else was simply getting to know you. 

And perhaps that was why moving on never worked the way it was supposed to because every new person felt like a stranger trying to read the first page of a book. While Jeongguk already knew every chapter. Every line. Every period, comma and everything in between. 

Even though you wished he didn't.

You heard the distant melody of music playing. He always had some type of music playing. The quiet rhythm humming in the background of his apartment. Hard rock filling the apartment’s space and making you feel like you were right at home. 

When your heels came off by the front door and you exhaled in satisfaction from it, Jeongguk watched you the entire time. Listening to the small, relieved noise you made should have meant nothing to him. Instead, it did things to him he didn’t have words for anymore. 

The ache in your feet disappeared instantly. Almost feeling dizzying. Jeongguk glanced down at the pumps, then at your feet. Black polish on your toes. You still painted your nails his favourite colour. 

Jeongguk still didn’t say anything but a small smirk lifted at the corner of his lips as he moved back to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine and turned from the kitchen to make his way into the living room and join you. 

You didn’t notice the smirk otherwise you would have called him out for it. But you couldn’t be arsed anymore. Your energy from tonight was past the point of drained. You simply drifted your way to the couch and collapsed comfortably. Nestling against the cushions. “What a night.”  You hummed to yourself, sinking into the familiar softness of Jeongguk’s sofa the way you did every damn time. 

It took nothing to have your eyes on Jeongguk as he stood in the kitchen. It was normal for you. Normal for your eyes to land on him and drink him up like the fine shit he was. Normal for your stomach to clench at the sight of him. For your mouth to water slightly as your attention centered onto him. 

Your gaze trailed from the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Baggy but still allowing for your eyes to catch a glance of muscular thighs hiding under the fabric. 

Your focus wandered more. Not intentionally. It was simply second nature to check him out. 

Your eyes just gravitated towards him even if you didn’t want to. Your gaze landing on the outline of something in those grey sweats that always knew how to make your back arch just right. You forced yourself to look away. To move your attention somewhere else. And your eyes traced upwards now. Landing on the loose black shirt he was wearing. 

The dim lights of the kitchen ceiling shadowed over his broad chest and outlined his pecs a little too perfectly. The shirt sleeves were still rolled up to his elbows. Exposing a sleeve of tattooed skin that curved in beautiful designs. Complimenting the black nail polish that was already chipped and picked at over his fingernails. 

He still had the tattoos he got for you on his arm too. Yes, tattoos - plural. They were always something simple. Small. Hidden between the dark etching that surrounded beautiful artwork. But he showed them off no matter what because they were the proudest piece of art he had ever gotten. He would probably never get them covered up. 

You didn’t mind. Not one bit. 

And then finally your attention landed on his face now. Lidded stare on the angle of his jaw. The pretty dots on his crystal clear skin. The length of his nose. The nose you used to sit on. Your thighs closed instinctively together. Forcing you to inhale a sharp breath. Yet you still kept looking. Watching. Waiting. 

Your focus outlined a pair of cherry red lips and the two silver rings sitting snug at the corner of them. The new labret sitting pretty under his lower lip too. Dark eyebrows. Even darker hair with a fresh under cut. Fringe cascading over his forehead to hide an eyebrow piercing you loved a bit too much. Everything about his features moulded perfectly with lightly tanned skin. 

He was so fucking pretty. Why did he have to be absolutely insufferable? 

The funny thing was that Jeongguk was never supposed to be your type. 

At least, that's what everyone thought.

The tattoos crawling up his arms and disappearing beneath the sleeves of his black shirts should have deterred you enough. The motorcycle parked outside his apartment definitely should have too. He carried himself with the kind of confidence that usually screamed trouble. All sharp smirks, leather jackets, and secrets he never quite shared.

There was always something ominous about him. Late night phone calls he would take out of earshot. The bruised knuckles he would brush off with a shrug. The way people seemed to know who he was before he even introduced himself. You never really knew what he did, and if you were being honest, you stopped caring long ago.

Years ago, you would have taken one look at him and walked the other way. And the way you met Jeongguk was completely by accident too. 

Or maybe fate just had a fucked up sense of humor.

It was raining that night when you met. The kind of rain that soaked through clothes within seconds and turned city streets into mirrors of fading lights. You were new to the neighbourhood and had been stranded outside a convenience store after your phone died. Debating whether to make a run for it or wait for the storm to pass.

Then a motorcycle pulled up.

You remembered the way your stomach tightened from terror. Being stranded outside and now a stranger on a black motorcycle pulls up in the dead of night? Only you would land yourself in this position.

He was wearing a black helmet. Black jacket. Tattoos were peeking from beneath the sleeves on rain soaked skin. The engine hadn't even stopped rumbling before you had already decided he was exactly the kind of man you were supposed to avoid.

A few minutes later, he was standing beside you beneath the awning of the store. Holding out a portable charger he had bought from inside, "For the record, I just came here to grab cigarettes."  He had said after catching your suspicious look. As if he thought you assumed he was coming to kidnap you. 

Those were his first words to you and even after all this time, you still remembered them. 

You had almost refused to take the charger. Instead, you spent the next twenty minutes talking to him while your phone charged. You talked about everything and nothing. The weather. Your terrible sense of direction. His habit of smoking too much.

By the time the rain stopped, you learned that his name was Jeon Jeongguk and he happened to live not too far away from your own apartment. And when he dug out the helmet for a passenger from his motorcycle and offered to take you home, you had already forgotten all the reasons you were supposed to say no.

Looking back, maybe that should have been your first warning. And you didn’t mean the tattoos. Or the motorcycle. Or the fact that you never really understood what he did for a living. The real warning should have been how easy it was to fall for him. How within a single rainy evening, he made a stranger feel safe enough to trust him. 

The more you got to know each other. The harder you fell. And somewhere between the teasing grin he reserved only for you or the way he stopped to help strangers without expecting anything in return. Every assumption you had ever made about him unraveled. Beneath the ink, the piercings, and the intimidating exterior lived the softest heart you had ever known.

The man who remembered how much you loved the Twilight movies and would sit there on the couch for 10 hours at a time just to watch them all with you. The man who tucked your cold hands into his pockets during winter. The man who always made sure you got home safe.

Maybe there were parts of Jeongguk that belonged to the shadows. Parts he would never let you see. But he never made you feel afraid. If anything, he made you feel protected as though nothing in the world could touch you as long as he was standing next to you.

Jeongguk looked like the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about. In reality, he was the kind of man who brought flowers home to you just because he had walked past a shop and thought of you.

You blinked, forcing yourself back to the present. Back to reality. Back to the fact that you were sitting in Jeongguk's apartment… With Jeongguk.

No matter how much time passed. No matter how many times you convinced yourself you were done, neither of you ever seemed capable of staying away for long. There had to be some invisible thread that remained tied between you, pulling whenever one of you wandered too far.

History was history for a reason. It wasn't meant to be relived.

Yet every time you found yourself around him, those carefully built walls started to crack.

Your eyes trailed back to Jeongguk and could tell by the way he moved, he knew you were staring at him. Unhurried and so damn deliberate. As though suddenly he had all the time in the world.

He lingered by the kitchen counter long after he had poured the wine. Adjusted things that didn't need adjusting. Opened the fridge only to close it again. Took his time with every movement like the night wasn't going anywhere. 

And just as you thought, he oh so casually remembered the wine bottle and turned back toward the kitchen counter to grab it, shoulders and back muscles rolling beneath the black fabric of his shirt as he tucked the bottle under his arm. Giving you the perfect look of his wide back and all of those muscles. 

Jeongguk didn’t rush. It wasn’t in him to ever rush. Especially when it came to you. He let you see what you wanted. Pretending he hadn't caught you staring from the second you walked through the door. 

He wouldn’t lie and say that his mouth didn’t twitch slightly at the thought of you staring. But he didn’t crack a smile either. He wasn't calling you out. Wasn't making it easier. If anything, he seemed content to let you keep looking. Content to stand there and let your eyes wander over details you had spent ages trying not to remember.

The piercings. The tattoos. The nail polish. The sharp line of his jaw. 

The smile you used to kiss.

Maybe you were imagining it. Maybe you weren't. But it felt suspiciously like he was giving you the opportunity. As if he knew exactly what you were doing and didn't mind in the slightest. As if after all these years, being looked at by you was still one of his favourite things.

Coming here was such a bad fucking idea. 

He handed you the glass when he finally joined you in the living room and your fingers brushed his for half a second. You both pretended not to notice but neither of you rushed to pull away too quickly either. 

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It never was with Jeongguk. It felt like something unspoken had taken up residence between you. Settling into the couch cushions. Into the space where normal conversations were supposed to go.

Jeongguk lowered himself onto the sofa beside you like he belonged there more than anywhere else in the world. Relaxed. Close enough that you felt the change in your bones. The shift in the air. The subtle pressure of him being too close and somehow still not close enough.

Then it hit you. His cologne. The scent crept in first. Slow yet knowing. It was almost as if your brain recognized it before you consciously did.

It was slightly smoky at the edges. With something clean underneath it that never quite faded no matter how close you got. There was a hint of wood. Birch, maybe? Sharp enough to keep it from being soft in any comforting way. And then, buried underneath everything else was that subtle sweetness that clung to Jeongguk specifically. As if it had given up trying to be separate from him.

It wasn’t just a scent. It had weight. As if it filled the space before he even moved, settling into the air around you and making everything feel closer than it actually was. It clung to fabric, to memory, to the inside of your thoughts in a way that was almost unfair. Infuriating in how it instantly bypassed every bit of restraint you were trying to hold onto.

Your chest tightened before your mind could even place the name of the cologne properly. 

Oh, it was that one.

The one you had picked out years ago. Standing behind Jeongguk in a store like it was something silly and not the kind of decision that would somehow follow you into moments like this. He had sprayed it on in front of you for the first time like it was nothing. As though it didn’t mean anything at all and then he just… never stopped wearing it.

Even now.

You swallowed, staring down at your wine glass in your hands a little too intently, “You still wear that cologne I picked for you?” You asked quietly. As if you didn’t already know the answer.

Jeongguk glanced at you, one arm draping over the back of the couch, “Why wouldn’t I?” He was too confident in answering. Acting as if he wasn’t doing this shit on purpose at all.

Then he went quiet. Not in the way that meant he had run out of things to say because Jeongguk never really did that. It was more in a way that meant he decided to watch you instead.

His gaze was stuck on you. Heavy and unblinking in that infuriatingly calm way of his. He looked at you as if he had nowhere else to be and nothing else worth looking at. As if the conversation, the room, even the space between you both had all narrowed down to a single point he was fully invested in.

You could feel his eyes on you before you looked at him. That awareness crawling up your spine. The instinctive knowledge that you were being studied too closely to pretend otherwise. When you finally did glance over, Jeongguk didn’t look away.

His head was tilted slightly into the back of the couch, relaxed as if he wasn’t doing anything at all. But his eyes… Those eyes were different. Focused in a way that stripped the ease out of everything else about him. It was like he was watching for something small. A reaction. A slip. A crack. Something only Jeongguk would notice.

It wasn’t the kind of look that asked for permission. It was the kind that assumed Jeongguk already had it.

Jeongguk’s gaze flickered briefly to your lips. He traced the outline of them. Silently making note of the fact that your lipstick wasn’t smudged because smudged lipstick to him meant you kissed someone. Then his gaze went back to your eyes. It was so quick you almost convinced yourself you imagined it. Almost.

Your fingers tightened slightly around the stem of the glass, “That was a really long time ago.” You murmured, “Surprised you still wear it.” You nodded, taking a small sip out of your wine. 

A faint hum left him. Expression unreadable. Then with his lips at the rim of his wine glass, he mumbled, “So?” Then took a sip of his wine. 

The memories came back with the scent still lingering there. The memory of your hands fixing the collar of his shirt one night. The sound of his laugh when you told him he sprayed too much. And the way he leaned down towards you as if he already knew you would kiss him anyways. 

You shifted slightly on the couch, forcing yourself to take a bigger sip of your wine. Forcing yourself to push the memories flooding your brain away. 

“Does it still smell the same to you?” Jeongguk asked suddenly.

The strong taste of the wine coated your mouth, tongue and lips. And the sound of Jeongguk’s voice when he asked you that question made you freeze. Your lips still at the edge of your glass. Fingers tightening around the stem of the glass again because now he wasn’t talking about the cologne anymore.

You both knew it from the way the silence hung thick between the two of you. The question lingered. Even though it wasn’t difficult to answer. You couldn’t find the words to say a damn thing because neither of you trusted where the answer would lead.

That cologne bottle had started as a gift and somehow became a marker for an entire chapter of your lives. The scent hadn't changed but people were supposed to, right? Relationships were supposed to change, weren’t they? Time was supposed to make certain things fade. 

Yet here you were, sitting in his apartment and recognizing the scent instantly.

Recognizing Jeongguk instantly.

As though your memory had never gotten the message that things were over.

What he really wanted to know wasn't whether the cologne smelled the same. It was whether it still meant the same thing. Whether hearing his voice still felt familiar. Whether being around him still unsettled you in all the ways it used to. Whether there were parts of the two of you that time hadn't managed to change.

And judging by the way neither of you could seem to look away from each other, the answer was a lot more complicated than either of you wanted it to be. 

So, you stayed quiet. Your gaze dropping from Jeongguk’s own to the wine in your glass. The dark red liquid sloshed around slightly with the movement of your hand, but the room around you felt strangely calm. 

Jeongguk didn't look away from you. He kept watching you intently. Eyes moving from the side of your face to drift down towards the glass in your hand. Watching the way your fingers gripped tighter around the stem. 

He always did have a habit of asking questions that sounded simple on the surface and carried far more underneath.

The cologne wasn't really the point. You knew that. It was everything attached to it. It was the memories. The versions of yourselves that existed before things fell apart.

You finally lowered the glass and looked up at him once more, "That's not what you're asking me." Your voice was quiet when it came out. Wary. As though you were tired of dancing around the memories of him that plagued you. 

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Jeongguk’s lips. Making the piercings there glisten. He was so aware of what the hidden meaning of all his questions meant. Though he would never be direct about it, "No. It’s not." He admitted, an overly confident chuckle leaving his lips, “So,” Jeongguk said as he changed the topic and nestled himself comfortably into the other side of the couch but still had his body angled toward you slightly, “How bad was it?”

You let out a short laugh and took another sip out of your wine, then took a big gulp right after. Eyes rolling before you took yet another sip to prepare yourself to explain just how bad the date really was. That alone was enough of an answer for Jeongguk. You sighed, shaking your head, 

“It was pretty fucking bad.” You confirmed. And that opened the floodgates. At first it was controlled, tidy complaints. Careful wording as if your date was still sitting here at the restaurant with you. Then you realized who you actually were with. You could be honest with Jeongguk. Could talk shit with him and not have to worry, “Dude pretty much talked about himself like he was giving me a fucking TED Talk.”

Jeongguk blew out a breath, “Guessing that was another finance bro, huh?” He asked, already knowing the answer, “Did he even try to get to know you?” He hummed out, lips taking a small sip from his wine. 

You were hunting through your purse for your vape. Digging the device out from a pocket with a sigh before placing your lips at the end of it as you tossed your purse onto the coffee table, “He did but…” You took a pause and sucked at the end of your vape, letting the nicotine smoke inhale straight into your lungs before blowing out and speaking again, “I don’t think he was even listening. It was like he was just asking because he had to.” 

“Sounds about right.” Jeongguk muttered, hand outstretched for your vape, “I bet he talked about a promotion coming his way.” He hummed all too knowing as you handed the vape to him. He placed it at his lips and eyed you as he pulled the smoke into his mouth, “Probably hinted about his dick size too, huh?” He let out the smoke, lips back at the vape to inhale from it once more before handing it back to you. 

You watched the way Jeongguk smoked from your vape and it reminded you of all the times you both would do that. Would share a smoke together. Usually at the end of the night after a good day together. God, you missed that. 

There was no use in reminiscing about the good ol’ days. So, you sighed under your breath and took the vape back from Jeongguk, “Damn right he did.” You grumbled, “Not like I was going to sleep with him anyways.” You chuckled, “He also tried to go in for a kiss when he hugged me. Gross.” You visibly shivered, legs curling under you on the couch now that you felt more relaxed. 

First fuck up. Jeongguk shouldn’t have asked. He was already imagining you kissing this dude-bro… whoever the hell he was. He stewed a bit as he thought. Stewed even more when he pictured you and your date in bed. Would he know where to kiss to make you say his name the way Jeongguk did? Would he know where to touch to make you squirm and ask for more the way Jeongguk could? 

He was trying to be better. Trying to let you go. Trying to move on. But how could he when you both always ended up here anyway? At least he didn’t crush the wine glass in his hands this time. 

That was progress…? He thought. 

And his second fuck up? Sitting too close to you. It was like he didn’t already know what kind of effect you had on him when there was no space left to hide in. It was like he didn’t know that conversations always slipped when it was just the two of you, always tilted into something heavier than they meant to be, 

“Then what happened next?” Jeongguk pressed, leaning back slightly like he had all the time in the world. And as if he wasn’t already enjoying the answers you had been telling him. 

You exhaled through your nose, staring at the floor for a second too long, “He talked about himself the entire night. And then…” You paused, shaking your head, “He kept checking his phone like I was just… a filler until something better came along.”

Jeongguk laughed sharply. A quiet and almost disbelieving chuckle leaving his lips as though he was offended on your behalf, “That’s it?” He said while shaking his head, “That’s what you let yourself sit through?”

He was already shaking his head because he genuinely couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand how someone could have you sitting across from them and still be distracted by anything else. How they could look away. How they could miss things. 

You have never been background noise to Jeongguk. Never.

He knew when something was wrong with you before you admitted it. Knew when your smile wasn't real. Knew the difference between your tired voice and your upset one. Knew when you were pretending not to care about something because you didn't want to talk about it.

Half the time he could tell what kind of day you had from the way you walked into a room.

It wasn’t because he was trying to analyze you but more because paying attention to you was as natural as breathing. It always had been.

Jeongguk could feel his jaw clenching. Lips pressing together and then his tongue poking into his inner cheek as he thought before breathing out with a sigh, "The phone thing is insane."

You laughed quietly, fiddling with your vape and looking anywhere but at Jeongguk as you murmured, "It wasn't that serious."

"Yes, it was."

The way he said it made you finally look up. Jeongguk didn't look amused anymore. He looked certain. As if the answer was as clear as day. As if this was one of those things he refused to let you minimize.

"It’s not like I stayed for hours," You added while trying to brush it off, “I don’t know. I thought maybe it would get better.”

That made something flicker across his expression. It wasn’t necessarily anger. But more of a spark of absolute disbelief. As though the idea of you waiting for someone to get better at treating you felt fundamentally wrong to him, “You shouldn’t have to wait for that.” He nodded, downing the bit of wine left in his glass before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another drink. 

Your gaze dropped and you licked over your lips. Wetting them because suddenly your mouth had felt dry. You knew Jeongguk was right. Which made your point harder to defend.

Jeongguk leaned forward a bit after he poured his drink, eyes still locked on you like he couldn’t help it even if he tried, “If someone’s sitting across from you,” He continued with a steady voice, leaning in closer, “They should be looking at you. Like the way I’m doing right now. That’s the bare minimum. ” Then under his breath the next words slipped out before he could stop it, “You don’t deserve to be ignored.”

The words bounced off the very core of your heart. Making your heart rate surge. You knew his reaction wasn’t about the date. It was about the fact that Jeongguk couldn’t imagine not seeing you. Not noticing you. Not listening. The idea that someone else could sit where he was sitting right now and treat you like you were optional. It just didn’t sit right with him at all.

“Right.” Your voice came out in a hushed whisper and your attention strayed to the coffee table and noticed Jeongguk’s phone lying there. When you were with him, his phone was always forgotten. Face down somewhere on the table. Just like it was right now. It wasn’t done with intention. He just didn’t care about it.

There had never been a notification, text, email, or conversation more interesting than watching you think. Than listening to you talk. Than noticing the hundreds of little things everyone else seemed to miss.

"You let people get away with way too much." He said finally, leaning back as he took a swig from his glass. 

You looked down into your wine and Jeongguk's gaze softened slightly. Underneath the irritation was something else. Perhaps it was the certainty that you deserved to be known. To be listened to. To be looked at like you mattered.

Jeongguk had spent years doing exactly that. Years memorizing you. Years paying attention. Years making you the first thing he noticed when you walked into a room. Hearing that another man had treated you like an afterthought felt absurd to him. Almost insulting. As if the world had somehow forgotten something that seemed painfully obvious to Jeongguk every single day.

Your eyes trailed over to him and you deadpanned, “Not true.”

“Kind of is.” Jeongguk corrected too quickly. Then his voice softened a bit while still carrying that edge it always had to it, “You know you deserve better than that.”

The words hit differently coming from him. They didn’t sound gentle. And they were far from comforting too. It was more along the lines of it being a fact that you hadn’t already accepted.

You looked away quickly and muttered, “Yeah… well.”

Jeongguk shifted closer and you found yourself holding your breath already, “You know I would never do that to you.” He said it like it was obvious. As if it had always been obvious. He was directly beside you now. One arm resting behind the headrest of the couch, the tips of his fingers barely a touch over your bare shoulder.

You felt his fingertips ghosting over your skin and your breath caught before you could stop it. You pretended to stay composed. Fingers flicking over a tiny speck of lint on the front of your dress before you downed the rest of your wine in response. 

You would rather drown yourself in the red liquor than admit he was right.

Jeongguk never made you feel like a filler. Never made you feel like you were waiting for something better. If anything, it was the opposite. With him, you were always the point. The center. The thing everything else circled around. Whether you wanted it to or not.

You didn’t answer him. That was a safer route for you. Don’t answer. Don’t react. Don’t feel. 

Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. 

Too late, girl. 

Jeongguk knew what your silence meant anyway. That tiny hesitation. That split second moment where you didn’t agree nor disagree. It was enough for him. And a knowing smile tugged at his mouth from that, 

“You don’t need to answer that.” He murmured, licking over his lips as he leaned his head back to rest against the couch again, “Silence speaks, you know.” He watched you intently, gaze trailing from the front of your dress down to the way it hugged nice and snug around your waist. 

You could feel him undressing you with his stare and you quickly inhaled a shaky breath as you reached for the bottle of wine on top of the coffee table to refill your glass. You took a long drink out of the glass and turned your gaze away to stare at nothing in particular, “Don’t start with your shit, Jeongguk” You breathed out, immediately reaching for your vape to inhale it. 

“Why not?” He asked as if he were genuinely curious. His gaze didn’t move from your face, “You’re already halfway there.”

“I’m not anywhere.” You answered quickly, sharper than you meant it to be. Smoke blowing out of your nose at the same time, “Not even close.” Your voice faltered at the last part and you felt so stupid because you knew how ridiculous you sounded. You weren’t a very convincing liar when it came to Jeongguk. 

That only made Jeongguk lean in more because he knew what he was doing. You knew what you were doing too. Knew you were fucking doomed from this point forward. 

“You are.” He countered softly, “You just don’t like what it means.”

Your pulse ticked harder. It felt difficult to swallow and you tossed your vape onto the table. Leaning away from the heat radiating from this insufferable ass man at your side to tilt your head and shake your hair away from the back of your neck because all of a sudden, you felt a bit too warm. It was summer. Jeongguk had the aircon running. Yet, you still felt too hot. 

Jeongguk didn’t touch you any further. He didn’t have to. He just stayed there. Letting his fingers brush over your shoulder absentmindedly. Too close. Too calm. As though he was waiting for your resolve to crack on its own,

“I can fix this.” He added quietly after a moment, “Whatever this is between us. I can fix it. Just stop going out with people who don’t even look at you properly and come back to me.”

That did it. Something in you tightened. It wasn’t anger exactly. Nor was it a relief either. It was something more dangerous in between. Something you knew you wouldn’t be able to recover from if he inched even half a bit closer. 

“Oh, so now you wanna turn this all around and fix things?” You asked, voice low. You turned to look at Jeongguk and let him swallow you with his stare, “Who gave you the right to decide that?” You pressed further, feeling an irritation flare right in the middle of your chest. It wasn’t irritation from what he was saying. It was irritation from how bad you fucking wanted to agree with him. 

You were past the point of return now. Whatever happened after this, happened. Fuck it. You can handle the regret in the morning. Right now, you burned with the desire to have him even while actively pushing him away. 

As bad as this was. As fucked up as your dynamic was. It was true. 

He was all you wanted from the second you walked through the door. 

Jeongguk’s eyes flickered down towards your lips just for a second. Then he smiled knowingly. Those stupid piercings glittering as his smile stretched wider. As if he had been waiting for that resistance, “I’m not deciding it.” He said simply, “I’m just telling you what you already know.”

You pressed your lips together and chewed at the inside of your cheek. You wanted so much. Wanted him back. Wanted that connection that you could never find anywhere else. Wanted to stop going on these useless dates as if you had something to prove. 

That was what was so fucking stupid about you and Jeongguk. There wasn’t any confusion. 

And not a single doubt. You did want to come back. 

You wanted and wanted and wanted. 

Jeongguk still needed to learn and so, you didn’t crumble. You kept your willpower and straightened your back slightly, forcing space back between you even if it didn’t fix anything, “Wanting me back isn’t the same as knowing how to keep me.” You whispered. 

A notification lit up your phone right at that moment. You reached towards the coffee table and grabbed your phone. Jeongguk tracked your movements with dark eyes. You ignored him completely as you picked up your phone and unlocked it. 

The screen brightened against the dim lighting of the apartment and your eyes immediately dropped to it. A text message. Then another right underneath it. You couldn't help it. A small smile tugged at your mouth as you skimmed through the newest notification.

The conversation wasn't even that interesting however, it was enough to make you huff out a quiet laugh. Enough to pull your attention away for a few seconds. Enough for Jeongguk to notice.

From beside you, his gaze flickered toward the screen before returning to your face. Watching you. Watching the way your expression changed. Watching the way your attention shifted somewhere that wasn't him.

The apartment filled with another sharp ping from your phone. A muscle moved in Jeongguk's jaw and before he could think, he spat out, "Put your phone on vibrate." The words didn’t sound harsh. Yet it sounded like a strict command. As if he already decided it was happening.

You looked up from your phone and made a face at him with your eyebrow raised, “Excuse me?” The look you gave him was somewhere between disbelief and irritation. Scratch that. Mostly irritation. You stared at him for a long second, waiting for him to realize how ridiculous he sounded. 

He didn't. If anything, he looked more convinced by the second.

Your head tilted slightly as you studied him, “Are you fucking serious right now?” The question came out flatter than you wished because it reminded you of every argument you had ever had with him. Every moment where he would become completely unreasonable and somehow still managed to act like he was the only sane person in the room.

Jeongguk wasn't even trying to hide it. There wasn't an ounce of shame on his face. He was just sitting there with that infuriatingly calm expression that always appeared whenever he had already made up his mind about something.

You let out a laugh and shook your head, “Unbelievable.”

Jeongguk remained exactly where he was completely unbothered.

This feeling was familiar. Painfully familiar. His certainty. His confidence. The straight up assumption that eventually you would roll your eyes and do what he asked anyway.

This was exactly why you had left him.

You hated the way he could be so thoughtful one minute and impossibly aggravating the next. The way he always seemed to think he had some claim on your attention. The way he looked at you now. As though the request made perfect sense and you were the dumb ass for questioning it.

You gestured vaguely toward him with your phone, “See? This.” A humorless laugh escaped your lips, “This is why I used to lose my fucking mind.”

The corner of Jeongguk's mouth twitched, the coy smile starting to raise at the corner of his lips looking very close to amusement, “What?” He asked as if he didn’t have a single fucking clue what you were talking about. 

“Don’t act stupid, you fucking asshole.” You continued, “The fact that you're sitting there telling me to put my phone on vibrate because it's annoying you?” Your hand went up in the air. Fake irritation playing at your features because strangely… you weren’t that bothered at all.  

Girl, stand the heck up! The angel on your shoulder shouted. 

Fuck no. The demon on the other shouted back louder.  

You stared at Jeongguk and waited for a rebuttal. Expecting at least a little self awareness. A little embarrassment. Maybe some shame. Anything! 

Instead, he just looked back at you. Completely fucking shameless. He was leaning back against the couch, one arm stretched across the backrest. Looking completely relaxed. But those eyes of his could never lie. There was something possessive sitting underneath his calm expression. Something he had never been particularly good at hiding when it came to you. Just... unwilling to share your attention once he had it.

The realization should have made you punch him square in the face. Instead, heat crept into your chest. Snaking its way up to your cheeks and making you flush. You had seen this side of him before. The side that liked having your focus solely on him. The side that noticed when your focus went somewhere else. The side that would never admit how much he enjoyed being the center of your attention.

Another notification flashed across the phone screen. Your eyes dropped automatically. Before you could even read it properly, you felt the cold hard stare from a pair of dark eyes on you. Jeongguk watched you intently. Not saying anything. He was simply sitting patiently and waiting. Patient in a way that wasn't exactly patient at all.

When you glanced back up, his gaze didn’t move from you. Eyes lowered. Glowering. Smouldering. A faint hint of tension sitting behind it. His expression didn't change. He wasn't pretending not to care. Wasn't pretending not to notice. 

He was pissed. You knew it. He was wondering who kept pulling your attention away while refusing to ask you directly. You knew some deeply unreasonable part of him hated that a glowing screen was getting more of your focus than he was.

And what was so fucked up on your part was that you liked it.

You shouldn't have. You absolutely shouldn't have.

Yet there was something about the way Jeongguk looked at you when that possessive streak surfaced. As if he couldn't quite help himself. That made it impossible not to notice.

Impossible not to feel.

You exhaled through your nose, finally switching your phone to vibrate. You tossed it to the side and it landed on the table beside your purse with a careless thud, “There.” you said, eyebrow raised as you looked at him, “Happy?” Your tone was sharp, but your eyes gave you away. They were bright with something that didn’t match the annoyance in your voice, “I can’t stand you.” Your words came out easier than it should have. Affectionate in the way only years of the same arguments could make it.

Jeongguk didn’t even blink, “Then leave.” His words were calm. Careless. As though he knew it wouldn’t change a damn thing. 

You stared at him. A long beat of silence stretched between you both. Thin and charged with electricity in the worst possible way. Instead of moving. Instead of getting up. Instead of doing anything remotely reasonable… you stayed exactly where you were.

The truth sat right there between you both. Unspoken but obvious. Yes, you could leave. You always could. But you wouldn’t. And Jeongguk knew it.

For a moment, you didn’t have a retort. Didn’t have anything comical or sarcastic to say. 

You stared at Jeongguk sitting there like he had said the words out of habit more than intention. As if saying “then leave” was something he threw out when he felt too much and didn’t know where else to put it. Your eyes stayed on him a second longer. Studying him now instead of reacting. 

You knew him too well. Knew the last thing he wanted you to do tonight was walk out of this apartment without letting him touch you first. Knew that from the way his jaw had tightened right after he said those two words. The way his gaze hadn’t actually shifted off you. Even while he told you to go. The way his posture hadn’t opened up at all. Hadn’t made space for your absence, not even a little.

He didn’t look like someone offering you an exit. He looked like someone testing whether you would take it. And failing at it himself.

Your expression softened just slightly at the edges. A small smile curving at your lips as if you couldn’t help it even when you were annoyed, “Don’t say that.” You murmured. Your gaze didn’t leave his, “You don’t actually mean that.” You added like it was obvious. 

You were so fucking right. So right it made Jeongguk change the subject once more. Just like he always did when reality was too much for him to face head on, “You still thinking about that date?” He asked next, voice casual in a way that didn’t match the sharpness of his eyes.

You laughed quietly, but it came out tired instead, “No.” You turned your gaze to look at Jeongguk and caught his sharp stare, “I wish I could forget.” Your voice dropped to a whisper and you let the comment hang thick in the air. 

Jeongguk rubbed over his chin in thought as he watched you intently. You let your ex boyfriend eat you alive with just one stare. Consume you. And he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

The room had gone quiet in that way it only ever did with him. The sound didn’t disappear. It just got swallowed. You could feel it sitting between you. Heavy and alive. Every breath you took seemed too loud in your own ears. Every small movement suddenly deliberate. 

You were suddenly aware of the music still playing in the background. Aware of the drip, drip, drip coming from the faucet in the kitchen. It was as if your body had started paying attention to other things so that your mind could ignore the burning of desire starting to fester inside of you. 

Your relationship together had never been easy. The two of you argued about everything. Big things. Small things. Things that didn't matter at all. You could turn a simple conversation into a twenty minute debate without even trying. 

There were days when Jeongguk drove you absolutely insane and days when you were convinced you did the exact same thing to him. You swore at each other. Rolled your eyes. Hung up the phone only to call back ten minutes later because neither of you could stand leaving the conversation unfinished.

It should have exhausted you. Maybe it did. Somehow it never pushed either of you away for long. Underneath all the bickering was something neither of you ever managed to get rid of.

Familiarity. The kind built over years of knowing someone too well.

Jeongguk knew exactly which buttons to push because he had been the one accidentally discovering them for years. And you knew how to get under his skin just as easily.

Most people would have walked away from a dynamic like that. Yet the two of you kept finding your way back. Like magnets that spent all day fighting the pull only to end up snapping together again.

It wasn't healthy. It wasn't logical. It was frustrating as hell.

Yet every time you tried to imagine a life where Jeongguk wasn't there to annoy you, argue with you, challenge you, or make you laugh when you were trying not to… the picture never felt quite right.

For all the times you had told each other to leave, neither of you ever really meant it. And now… here you both were. Back to square fucking one. 

Jeongguk still kept his fingers barely over your shoulder. Leaving a pulse of fire that lingered under his touch. He didn’t need to come any closer. He was already there. Everywhere in the space. In the air. In the way his presence made everything else feel slightly off balance. His gaze hadn’t left you for long enough that looking away first felt like losing something.

Was that the issue here? Yes. One of many. 

You both knew where this was going. You just kept pretending you didn’t. Coming back to him was one thing. But sex with your ex? That was something entirely different. And right now? Getting back together wasn’t a blip on your radar. Sex with your ex, however… Now that was a thought gnawing at your very core. 

Jeongguk’s voice came out lower than before, pulling you out of your straying thoughts, “We should probably stop drinking.” He nodded towards the near empty bottle of wine, “Before we do something you regret.” He placed his empty wine glass onto the table and hummed.  

The suggestion should have made you laugh. Should have made you roll your eyes. Push him away, stand up. Anything normal. Instead, his words just made your pulse jump and your stomach do a complete flip inside of you. If only he knew how further from the truth he was. 

Your fingers tightened around the glass without meaning to and then you finished the remainder of what wine was left inside, “Jeongguk, you know I’ve never regretted anything with you.” You admitted, placing the empty wine glass onto the table before turning your body to face him fully now. 

Jeongguk didn’t respond right away even though he heard you loud and clear. His gaze dropped for a second when you faced him. Gaze landing on your hands. Watching the way your fingers fiddled with the ring around your thumb. Noting that small tell. That small movement. The one you did when you were waiting for him to tell you to just give in to him, 

“You don’t want to say that.” He whispered, lidded gaze moving back then to your face. 

“I think I do.” You said with confidence. You leaned back just enough to give yourself space to think, though it didn’t really help. Not when Jeongguk was right there in said space. Watching you like he always did when you stopped making sense to him, “You’re telling me what I don’t want.” You continued, voice steady, “You’re not listening to what I’m saying.”

Jeongguk’s movements were too controlled. As though he was physically forcing himself to slow whatever instinct had just flared up inside him. His thumb dragged once along his own palm, a small habit to control himself that he didn’t even seem aware of. Then he exhaled, his expression had changed to something more contained. Or controlled. Or even closer to restrained. 

His focus dragged over your face like he was trying to steady himself on details instead of impulse. Gaze landing and sticking to your lips, your eyes, the way you were looking at him like you already knew the answer you wanted from him, “You’re just upset from the shitty date,” He nodded, “About tonight.”

“I’m not anything.” You shot back, “I’m not upset. I’m just… done pretending this shit between us is complicated.” You heaved a breath, “I’m tired of pretending being around you isn’t driving me fucking crazy.” You said with a defeated sigh, “Tired of pretending I don’t want you.”  

Jeongguk’s jaw tightened slightly at that. The muscle flexing once like something inside him had pushed too far forward and he had to physically hold it back, “You think you’re being honest with me,” He said under his breath, “But you’re the one that’s not fucking thinking about what you’re actually saying.” Then his voice lowered to a mere whisper, “Don’t put that shit in my head.” 

“You just said a few minutes ago that you can fix this now you’re back tracking?” You questioned him, “I’m telling you the truth and now you’re pulling back?” You made a ‘tch’ noise with your lips and nodded, “Right. I forgot. That’s what you do.” Your hand slapped over your forehead, “Silly me.” 

“It’s not that.” Jeongguk was already struggling to take a breath, heat moving from the center of his chest and drifting down towards his stomach. Pooling in the deepest pit of him as he suffered trying to remain controlled, “I’m trying so fucking hard to keep it together. Can’t you see that?” He asked, dark eyes boring into your existence as he stared at you. 

“What if I just don’t give a fuck anymore?!” You answered back, an edge of certainty in your voice as you met his eyes with your own lidded stare, “We both know what we want. It’s so obvious, it’s insane.” You shifted towards him. One half of you was testing to see if you were getting too close. While the better part of you simply could not care. 

You watched Jeongguk’s demeanor start to fray. Watched the way his chest rose and fell with every labored breath he took. He was fighting against himself. Fighting between wanting to take you to the point of no return and wanting to shut it all down at the same time. 

“You’re drunk.” Jeongguk spat out, “Just saying dumb shit.” He shook his head while everything in him had leaned forward at your answer and then forced itself not to move. 

“No, I’m fucking not.” You retorted with equally the same attitude, “I had one drink.”  

You weren’t drunk. You knew what you were saying. Knew what you were inching towards. 

His eyes stayed on you. Steady now. Making it hard for you to take an even breath. He looked as if he was holding something back with both hands, teeth and sheer fucking will, “Ah, so you can decide when you’re done pretending but I can’t. Cool. Cool. Cool.” He added in a disbelieving tone, “You don’t even know what you fucking do to me. Sitting there playin’ on your phone knowing it’s gonna drive me nuts. Showing up in that dress. Looking the way you do. This is just all part of your show, huh?” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, “You’re just gonna regret everything tomorrow anyways so just shut the fuck up.” 

Jeongguk was smart to end the drinking. He didn’t want you to do something you would hate yourself over tomorrow. As if you could ever regret anything when it came to Jeongguk. As if you both could want anything else that wasn’t each other. 

He was quiet now. Calculating. Waiting. Waiting for your confirmation. Waiting for you to give him the go ahead. Waiting for you to give him just a sliver of reassurance that this wasn’t just another night with him you were going to outwardly say you didn’t want to happen when the next day came.

“Don’t you dare tell me about me.” You hissed out, “I just want to forget that date ever happened.” You exhaled, “Forget that all I wanted while sitting there was you but I fucking can’t because here I am again...” You shook your head, “With you.” 

The air between you tilted. Subtle, but undeniable. Something that had been held back for too long finally started to slip.

You should have stopped it there. Jeongguk should have looked away. You should have stood up. Jeongguk should have moved back. Changed the subject again. Created distance. Done anything except stay exactly where you both were. Feeling the pull of each other like gravity you were so tired of fighting. 

And in that stillness, everything got heavier. Now it wasn’t just tension. It was choice. You both knew you were running out of reasons not to cross the line you had been standing on for far too long. 

Without thinking twice, Jeongguk shifted on the couch. Back pressing into the plush softness of the fabric as if he was already bracing himself to feel the impact of your touch. He knew it was over the minute you stepped through the door anyways. And he was fucking fed up of fighting whatever the hell you both were doing. There was no challenge left in his eyes now. No attempt to push you away just to see if you would come back. Only a silent invitation. 

“You wanna forget that bad?” Jeongguk asked gruffly, an arm opening for you as he hummed out, “Come here then.” He commanded without missing a beat, “I’ll make you forget.” 

He was depleted. Tired of pretending to act unaffected. Tired of pretending he didn't miss you. Tired of pretending he wanted anything other than this. Jeongguk had always been difficult to read when it mattered most. But right now, he was surrendering. Waving that imaginary white flag because he knew he had nowhere to hide anymore. 

You simply stared at him for a moment. Watching the way his arm opened as if he was silently confessing to you how exhausted he was of this back and forth too. You blinked slowly and then moved again. Closer. Your knee bumping over his as your voice came out quietly, “How?” You asked mindlessly. And as if your mind was no longer in control of your body, you climbed straight into Jeongguk’s lap. 

Instinct kicked in almost immediately and Jeongguk grabbed you by the hips. Pushing you down onto him as you straddled him, “I got ways.” He started to smirk. Strong arms sliding around your waist. Large, rough hands splayed over both of your asscheeks and giving the flesh a hard squeeze in the way that only he could do, 

One touch. One squeeze. And you were already feeling the electricity buzzing through you. You fit into Jeongguk as if you were made to be held by him. Arms instantly looping around his neck and your fingers gripping over the plush couch behind him, “That hurt.” You whispered with a dazed wince, drunk off his touch already. 

“Like you ever gave a shit about a little pain.” He grunted out and met your lips with his own without wasting anymore time. Unable to restrain himself any longer now. You both clashed together with force. Teeth hitting teeth. Foreheads bumping. He had a hand sliding up the middle of your back, fingers already on the zipper to the back of your dress. 

You could taste the wine off his lips. The flavour of your vape he smoked. The hint of minty gum in between. And best of all, you could taste Jeongguk. This was all you wanted. All you craved. You moaned into the kiss, already letting out shameless noises because you couldn’t give a single fuck anymore. You kissed him back with the same force. Your lips moving against each other with passion and intent. Goosebumps trailed up your back when he grabbed the zipper to your dress and you wanted nothing more than to let him work you out of your clothes. 

“Tell me you love me.” Jeongguk whispered into the kiss. Calloused palms from years of weight and strength training making his hands deliciously rough yet soft at the same time. His hands roamed over your body. One hand trailing from your ass to your thigh. Squeezing over your exposed skin. The other hand inching the zipper to your dress down just a bit. Making it loosen enough for the straps to the dress to fall off your shoulders. And then making you press down harder onto him. Making your core sit right over the tent pitching hard under those sinfully sexy grey sweats he was wearing. 

You grabbed over Jeongguk’s shoulders to balance yourself when he pressed you down onto him, nails digging into the firm muscles there, “Hell no.” You grunted against his lips, your mouth pressing back against his fervently while your hips rocked over the hard length in his pants, “Never.” You ground yourself shamelessly over him. Feeling wetness start to pool right in the middle of your panties already. 

“Never? Hmmm.” He whispered as you cupped his face within your hands as your lips moved, “We’ll about that.” Jeongguk hummed into the kiss. A cocky smile curving along his lips as if it were a challenge he was accepting. 

You ignored him. Your lips moving against each other sloppily. Deepening. Tongues touching. Teeth trapping each other’s lower lips, piercings and all. 

You felt over the rigid muscles of his jawline and cheekbones. Acknowledged in your head that they might have been your favourite thing about his face. Then you felt the piercings on his lips gliding over your own as you both kissed each other. And then decided maybe the piercings were your favourite instead. 

The straps of your dress falling down gave Jeongguk the opportunity to break the kiss and press his face against your neck. He kissed the warmth of your skin. Inhaled the scent of your perfume on your neck. Barely catching the faint scent of a man’s cologne subtly there from when your date hugged you too. His teeth sunk lightly into the skin against your neck and he bit you lightly. Not hard but enough to hurt just a bit. As if it were his way to will the cologne smell away from you. As if it was his way to remind you that you could hug all the men you wanted but in the end, he never truly finished last. 

Jeongguk pressed an almost apologetic kiss against the spot on your neck that he bit but you purred anyways. Your head only tilting back and giving him room to do more. With your simple movement, his lips trailed down to your collar. Heated kisses burning like hot coal as his lips moved downwards to your cleavage, “Missed this.” He murmured against your skin, tongue tracing the curve of your breasts that weren’t hidden by your dress, “Missed you.” 

“You don’t have to miss anything anymore.” You whispered breathlessly, lidded eyes gluing to the gorgeous length of his nose as he pressed kisses against your chest, “I’m right here.” You confessed, “Want you so bad.” a soft purr left your lips while your fingers reached up to thread through Jeongguk’s hair. Even if it’s just for tonight. The afterthought lingered. 

Jeongguk easily switched your positions now. So easily that you hardly noticed until your back was hitting the soft cushions of his couch. You laid down and your dick drunk gaze looked up and for a split second the ceiling lights blinded you until he became your shade. Hovering over you as he reached down to the hem of his shirt and pulled it upwards, hiking it off his body in one fluid motion and tossing it carelessly to the side. 

You tried not to look when he peeled his shirt over his head. Tried being the key word. Your eyes betrayed you instantly. Tracing over ink stretched across warm skin. Broad shoulders. Defined muscles. Then you saw it. A dark bruise blooming along his ribs, angry shades of purple and blue spreading across tanned skin. It looked painful. Fresh, too.

For a second, the question sat on the tip of your tongue. What happened? But it never made it out. Bruises weren't unusual on Jeongguk. They never had been.

Throughout your relationship, he had always shown up with some new scrape across his knuckles. A cut above his brow. Or bruises he dismissed with a careless shrug and a muttered, "It's nothing."

So instead of asking, you looked away. Pretended not to notice. Pretended your stomach didn’t tighten at the sight of it. 

Jeongguk caught your stare anyway. His eyes flickered down to the bruise before returning to yours. Neither of you said a word. And just like every other time, the subject was silently buried before it ever had the chance to surface,

“You don't need to worry about me." Jeongguk said flatly, fingers gripping at the hem of your dress. 

You sighed, hands meeting his own to help him push your dress upwards, "You say that like I can help it." 

A quiet laugh escaped Jeongguk’s lips. His gaze held yours for a second too long before he looked away, "We're not together anymore, remember?" He nodded, "You don't owe me that."

"And you think that changes anything?" You asked. 

Maybe it should have. Maybe any sane person would have stopped caring the moment they sniffed out who Jeongguk really was. The moment they saw the kind of people he surrounded himself with. The kind of life that followed him wherever he went. But you never did. And you surely did not care right now either. 

“You’re so damn fine.” Jeongguk whispered, distracting you from the bruise. Pulling you back into him easily like a moth to a flame. Muscles flexing without him even trying to as he gazed down at your body splayed under him, “So sexy.” 

He gazed down at you in awe as if it were his very first time seeing you. Eyes on your face. Dazzled by the way your unique features shone even through your makeup. He rested his hands over your knees and took a moment to marvel some more at the sight of you before he slowly pushed your thighs apart. Making your dress hike all the way up to your hips. 

Your eyes reluctantly moved from the bruise on his ribs and landed on the tattoo on Jeongguk’s chest that almost touched his neck instead. The intricate art stretched from his chest and shoulder only to wrap around his bicep and trail all the way down to his arm. Ending at his wrist. Only to start again on his fingers. More designs in dark ink spread out each length of his fingers. 

You used to spend hours tracing the tattoos with your fingertips. Asking him about all the details. Why he got them. What was he thinking about when he was sitting in that tattoo chair. Every time you looked, there was something new. You could never get tired of admiring him. 

You had your eyes on your initial tattooed onto his ring finger in particular as he eased your thighs apart. A delicious contrast to the tan of his skin. It was old but he kept getting it retouched every time it faded. An never dying ode to his love for you. And a permanent reminder on his body that you were his no matter what.   

You decided to let the topic of the bruise go. You always did anyway. And Jeongguk was right. You weren’t together anymore. So, mind your business. You focused on just him instead. 

That’s what you were here for after all, right? 

You just wanted to forget that date, right?

“And you just keep getting hotter.” You whispered with pure honesty because you would never lie. You would never lie about what he did to you. As insane as it was to be like this with him. You could never fib about the pure desire pulsing through your veins. 

Your legs spread on their own and you watched Jeongguk through a lidded gaze as he lowered himself down between them. Laying down on the couch as his lips pressed a feverish kiss against your inner thigh before he reached up with that same tattooed hand and pressed his palm over the front of your panties, feeling how achingly hot and wet your core was already, “Fuck, Ggukkie.” You breathed the nickname you reserved for him out shakily, hips lifting effortlessly when he began to pull your panties to the side. 

“I know, my precious doll.” He purred the nickname out softly and you felt your heartbeat thump in your chest from it, “I know you want me to taste you so bad.” He hummed, “I won’t make you wait.” He husked, easily pushing your panties away to expose you to him before he leaned in without hesitation and pressed his face into you. He mouthed over you. Piercings, lips and his tongue mouth right over where you throbbed the most before pressing wet, sloppy kisses over you. 

You didn’t even get a chance to react to the nickname he saved specially for you because whatever he just did with his mouth made you jolt upwards against him. The shock of pleasure made you squeeze your eyes closed for a moment before they opened hazily and drifted down towards Jeongguk. 

You slowly raised yourself up onto your elbows and reached down with one hand to pull your dress up higher so that you could see, “Oh.” You purred and rested your hand top of his head, fingers digging into his thick locks of hair, “Holy fuck.” You cursed, already breathing out heavily from feeling his tongue lapping at your sensitive flesh. 

And that was all it took. Just hearing your response to him made something in the pit of Jeongguk’s soul snap. 

He had a hand keeping your thigh pushed apart when your body involuntarily tried to close around his head then he whispered, “So wet.” with a nod of approval. Then his tongue started to trace circles around you again. That nose pressed against you as his tongue dipped lower to push into you, “You taste so good.” He moaned as he spoke as though the taste of you truly was the best thing he ever ate. Then groaned when you pulled on his hair. 

Those lips and tongue kept working their magic on your body. Making you arch into him. Grinding over his face until you were asking him for more. And if more was what you wanted, what kind of man would Jeongguk be if he didn’t give it to you? 

He kissed over the bud of flesh that made your thighs quake only to pull back for a second to suck over his finger. He glanced up at you and caught your eyes. The sheen of your wetness coated over his lips and chin but he uncaringly stared up at you anyhow. 

Your gaze was stuck on his face then trailed to his black nail polished finger pressing into your entrance and starting to sink into you. You swore again and felt your toes curl, “Yes.” You breathed out with a nod as he pushed his finger into you more and then you watched the way his finger disappeared past your walls before you closed your eyes and relished in the feeling. 

And just as you thought it couldn’t get any better, you felt the soft pair of lips pressing back against you again. Tongue flicking over those wonderful bundles of nerves while his finger moved. You felt the pleasure burst through your entire body. The feeling was indescribable. 

You said Jeongguk’s name the way he liked to hear it. Used all the nicknames he loved to hear you say too. You moaned. Mewled and whined. Trying to bask in the moment and not suffocate him with your thighs. But you needed more. Needed to feel every inch of him in more ways than one. 

You already couldn’t get enough and so, you exhaled sharply and found the words to say one single word, “Please.” You swallowed thickly and felt your jaw go slack, “Need more.” You begged shamelessly as specks of white already began clouding your vision because you were already at the edge. 

“Yeah?” Jeongguk whispered gruffly as he forced himself to pull away, “I got you, baby.” He hummed out sweetly, his finger moving out of you only for him to suck over it as he leaned back up, “Tell me how much you want me.” He whispered as he pressed his lips against yours and kissed you breathlessly, making you taste yourself off his tongue, “C’mon. I wanna hear you say it.” He murmured into the kiss, his palms coming down to plant on either side of you on the couch to hold his weight up from crushing you completely, “Lemme hear you.” He smiled as he broke away from your lips, a hand already at the waistband of his sweats. 

“Need you.” You whimpered into the kiss, licking into his mouth. Your hands gripped over his forearms, feeling over the veins on his skin as your nails scratched over him lightly, “Need you to fuck me.” You nodded, pulling away from those addicting lips to meet Jeongguk’s gaze, “Please.” Your grip over his forearms loosened and moved to trace over the width of his chest instead then trailed lower towards the set of abs on his stomach. Your fingers barely ghosted over the purple bruise on his ribs before they finally hooked over the waistband of his pants to tug on them. 

“Mm.” Jeongguk grunted, “You fucking anyone else?” He asked you suddenly, inching the top of his sweats down just a bit for you to peek at that delicious v-line leading towards his pelvis. 

“You fucking know I’m not.” You gritted your teeth with impatience, “Would I be here if I was?” You questioned him. Eyes unfocused but yet too entirely focused on the marvel of a man hovering over you. It was like you didn’t know where to look. Maybe the smooth of his chest? The dip of his abs? Or the faint trail of hair starting from the bottom of his stomach and disappearing into the top of his pants? You were too greedy to just pick one. 

“Just wanted to know…” Jeongguk smiled a little too proudly. Asshole. He knew you weren’t sleeping with anyone else but loved hearing it anyways. With that confirmation, he decided not to tease you any further, “...because I’m gonna fuck you raw.” The tone of his voice was slick with lust and you swore your vision hazed from that alone, “Maybe finally put a baby in you too.” He nodded once, his pants lowering and his cock swinging out from his boxers. Heavy. Thick. And absolutely breathtaking. “Does that sound good?” He asked but you were too far gone to even tell him to stop playing with you. 

Instead, you nodded and leaned back up on your elbows again, holding yourself upright but just barely. Staring up at him with needy eyes as you whispered, “Sounds good to me.” Your jaw clenched at the sight of his length. Monstrous. But you could take it. You always did. Very well too. 

You entertained the nonsense Jeongguk was saying because the thought of him filling you up was everything you wanted and more. However, you couldn’t just submit that easily. You had to ragebait him somehow. And so, with a grin, you hummed out, “Then after me, you can go do the same to your other bitches.” You challenged. 

You were trekking down a narrow road trying to challenge him but he loved it. 

That comment fired him up at once and Jeongguk belted out a laugh. Head shaking to himself as he rolled his eyes, “You think I got bitches.” He continued to laugh but nothing about it sounded like he was entertained, “That’s cute.” He nodded, leaning down towards you as he grabbed your thigh and hiked it up to wrap around his waist while he pushed your other thigh apart, his cock pulsating and throbbing within his hand as he guided it towards where you needed him most, “Can’t fuck anyone else but you because no one takes me the way you do.” He whispered, face coming closer to yours that your lips brushed over each other’s when he spoke, “And that’s a fuckin’ fact.” He finally said and straightened up before he pushed into you. 

Well. No words were needed to be said after that because your thoughts went poof the second he inched into you. He was gentle. He needed to be or he would have split you into two. Easing into you carefully and watching the way your brows furrowed when a quick second of pain shocked through you. 

You let out a broken whimper from the sudden burst of pain and Jeongguk cooed out softly, “I know, babydoll. I’m sorry.” He whispered apologetically, “It’s only gonna hurt for a second, take a breath.” He instructed while a gentle hand rubbed over your thigh despite the fact that it felt like he was impaling you. 

One thing about Jeongguk was that he never rushed through this part. He would rather wait in agony than make you feel any form of discomfort at all. And with a few deep, shaky breaths, you were smooth sailing next. Lips parting. Eyes rolling to a close while your palm that was once pressed into his stomach loosened and dropped when your upper body gave out. You laid down onto the couch and reached up with one hand, grabbing over the armrest behind you to hold on because you knew Jeongguk was about to drill you into this poor couch. 

And that he did. Making careful thrusts at first. Heaving a breath. Teeth trapped over his lower lip. One hand resting over your knee that was hooked over his hip while his freehand grabbed the fabric of your dress bunched around your waist. He pulled on your dress and used it for momentum as his thrusts slowly but surely started to become harder. 

“Shit.” You cursed, the sounds of your own wetness and his skin slapping against yours could probably make your ancestors roll over in their graves and say not this shit again. But Jeongguk didn’t stop. You begged him not to. Begged him to go deeper. Harder. More, more, more. 

“Greedy.” He breathed out but rocked into you deeper anyways. Gyrating those hips each time until he leaned down towards your lips, his body pressing against yours, “You love me?” He asked you with that smug ass grin on his lips, “Tell me.” He encouraged you as he pounded into you. Beads of sweat already lining his hairline. “I’m waiting.” He teased out breathlessly, his forehead dipping to rest over your shoulder while your hands shakily reached to grip onto his shoulders.

You made the asshole wait just a bit longer and then came the, “I love you.” You purred the words into his ear, “That’s what you wanna hear, huh?” Your teeth trapped over his ear lobe. Teeth catching the one of several piercings on his ear as he made yet another hard thrust into you again. You bit back a moan from that and smiled, your voice dropping sweetly as you whispered again into his ear, “I love you, Jeongguk.” You moaned his name out, a hand pressing into the back of his sweaty neck, fingers burying into his hair to pull on the dark locks, 

He didn’t say the words back. You didn’t care. Your body only chased after more. 

“Does hearing that make you feel good?” You asked him breathlessly, eyes squeezing shut as you felt a strong hand hook under your knee to hike your leg over his shoulder, “Fuck, right there.” You gasped, the shift in angle making his length push deeper into you if that were even possible. He had you almost in a mating press position. Folding you in half and making you feel him all the way in your stomach. In your back. Everywhere. 

“You don’t even know how good it makes me feel.” He grunted out, one hand digging into the couch above your head while the other held tight against your thigh over his shoulder, “Tell me you’re mine.” He demanded and you instantly responded, knowing hearing you talk like that to him only drove him closer to the edge. Your walls fluttered around him and his length only pulsed in response. He felt that familiar knot forming in the pit of his stomach and he forced himself to hang on. Hang on because Jeongguk thought he would be too fucking selfish to hit his own high before you did. 

“I’m all yours.” You breathed out way too quickly, “Only yours.” You confessed. It was the truth and you were too dick hungry to lie anyways. The pleasure from his thrusts bloomed all the way up to your throat. Your chin. Your cheeks. Your skin flushed and reddened from it. Perspiration pricked along your forehead and down your back. He was pushing against that spot in you with this new angle and before you knew it, you were scrambling to grab onto him, “Fuck. I’m–” You yelped but it was too late. You hit that high faster than you thought you would. Eyes closing as you clenched around his length and literally whimpered his name out. 

Those words were all he wanted to hear. Those simple words gave him all the assurance he needed. Not that he really needed to hear them anyways. Jeongguk knew you were his. But his cocky ass indulged either way. Loved when you were so high off him that you said everything you would otherwise hide from him. 

That was enough to drive him over the edge. Not your walls vice gripping him when you climaxed. Not the way you said his name. Or even the way stray tears escaped your eyes because the feeling was too much. It was your pure honesty. 

All he had to do was fuck it out of you. 

“That’s right.” Jeongguk hummed out low, “Mine.” Proud eyes caught on the way your lips parted and the way you grabbed onto his bicep to brace yourself for the imminent orgasm to rock through you. But he didn’t stop thrusting. He knew you didn’t want him to. He knew you wanted him to continue fucking you until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

And so, he claimed you with every thrust he made. Over and over again. His stamina was insane. He was the only one in your world that could last this long without getting tired. It was like he enjoyed the physical labour that went into fucking you. 

Finally when you were at that peak of your orgasm. So high you couldn’t get the words properly out to say anything to him, Jeongguk eased you through it before you were even aware. He was in your ear talking about how he’s gonna fill you up and fuck you right. You heard him say you belonged to him. Heard him grunt out how much he loved your pussy. All of which you nodded numbly too. Thoughts mushed into a ball of pure bliss to form coherent words. 

And then he was spilling inside of you next. You were so fucked out and the blood was rushing into your ears so fast that the only feeling you were aware of was the thick gush of his warmth filling you up. The voice that sounded foreign to you but was your own whispered out a, “You feel so fucking good.” from the feeling alone but you were still not fully in your conscious state yet. Completely past the point of return from the orgasm that claimed you. 

You barely heard the little, “I love you.” Jeongguk whispered into your ear as he rocked his high out. But it was there. It covered over you. Spread through your veins like the finest drugs. You didn’t need him to tell you that. You knew he did. But he said it. And he meant it. He really fucking meant it. 

Almost like as soon as the act was over. Once the itch was scratched. You both came back to your senses. There was no pillow talk. No after care. It was pure animalistic behaviour. 

Your breathing was heavy. Barely able to catch it. Your hair was a mess from being rocked back and forth. Your thighs burned from being spread open so wide. Yet, you sat up anyway. Making him pull out of you as you pulled your panties back into their rightful place. As if the post orgasm clarity brought you back to reality. 

Funny how the two of you were like two magnets that had been circling each other all night. And now you were back to being exes that couldn’t be in the same room as each other without wanting to tussle. 

Jeongguk had already adjusted himself back into his pants. A hand running through sweaty hair as he looked around for his discarded shirt. He glanced at you. It was barely noticeable that he had his eyes on you because you were still trying to pull yourself together. 

He noted the way you looked like a fucked out mess. Noted that he thought it was sexy. Noted your messy hair, smeared lipstick and running eye makeup caused by his doing. Your dressed now wrinkled and ruined. The splotch of wetness on his couch. He silently took note of everything so he could remember this night. Stashing the memory into the back of his mind where he filed everything else about you away. 

Then he exhaled out tiredly, “I’m not gonna ask you to stay. You can do whatever you want.” Jeongguk said finally, pushing himself up from the couch and away from you as he picked his shirt off the floor with an exhausted sigh, “I’m going to shower.”

You lowered your dress and fixed the straps back on your shoulders, “I’ll stay.” You mumbled as you watched him move across the room silently. Seemingly unbothered on the surface. However, you caught the way his eyes flickered back to you once before he turned away completely. Quick and automatic. As if he was really making sure you meant the words you were saying. 

At the bathroom’s entrance, Jeongguk stopped as he turned the light on, “But you won’t.” He nodded but didn’t look back this time, “I know you.” He added, voice even. Casual enough to sound like whether you stayed or left didn’t matter to him either way. 

It did matter. To both of you.

The door to the bathroom closed shut before you could answer.

The apartment suddenly felt louder in the silence he left behind.

You stayed on the couch and ten seconds passed. Then another. Your eyes drifted to the hallway anyway as if you could see through walls if you tried hard enough. The sound of the shower started faintly. 

You told yourself you would wait until he came back out. Until it made sense to leave properly.

The longer you sat there though, the more everything in you started to tilt 

This was the pattern. He said you could leave. You stayed. 

You stood up before you could think too much about it. Looked back at the wet spot on his couch left behind by you as you pulled your dress down and shrugged. He has a cleaner for a reason. You thought as you grabbed your phone and your purse off the coffee table. Your heels from the hallway. Then you made your way to the front door on wobbly legs. 

You hesitated there for half a second. Long enough for your reflection in the mirror hanging in the hallway to look like someone who was about to change their mind again. You fixed your ruined makeup to the best of your ability and inhaled a deep breath. Forcing yourself to unlock the front door before your mind could get the best of you. 

You left his apartment without turning back. You told yourself you had waited a few minutes just to be sure. Just to make it easier. Just to reassure yourself. But it didn’t help. You wanted to stay so fucking bad. And that’s exactly why you needed to dip the hell out of there. 

The hallway light outside Jeongguk's door felt too bright. As if it didn’t belong to the version of yourself that had just been sprawled out on his couch getting your shit rocked and pretending this was all normal. 

Inside, Jeongguk was still in the shower. Or at least you thought he was. Water running quietly. Steam filling the bathroom. The scent of his body wash filling the apartment. 

Outside, the night air hit you like a wave when you slid into the rideshare’s back seat. You immediately cracked the window open just a bit, letting the wind rush in against your face. 

Cold, sharp and sobering. 

Your chest still felt tight. Legs still felt like jelly. The middle of your panties were already soaking from the way he was slowly trickling out of you. You squeezed your thighs together and adjusted your dress. You had left in such a haste, you didn’t even remember to pee. Didn’t give yourself a chance to clean up because you knew if you did, you would spend the night. And spending the night always turned into spending another day. And so on. 

You held your purse against your chest as you stared out into the night. Rain drizzled steadily from the dark sky. Speckling the car’s window. Streetlamps glowed softly against the wet pavement. Empty intersections slipped by one after another. Tires whipped over rain slicked asphalt. The city was on their way to sleep but you were wide awake. 

You thought about what just happened with you and Jeongguk. The way you both said I love you to each other. Even if it was in the heat of the moment. Even if you wouldn’t dare to tell one another those words on a regular day. 

He lingered on your skin. In your mouth. In your hair. In you. You would go home and take a shower. Scrub your body. But you wouldn’t be able to shake the spell that was Jeon Jeongguk off you that easily. You knew you would be thinking of him in the days to come. 

And what would you do next? You would get on those dating apps again. Swipe until you find a match. You would go on another date. Deal with another boring loser. And then Jeongguk would find you again. Or you would find him. 

The cycle would repeat itself. And yes, it’s tiring. Yes, it’s exhausting. And frustrating. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You wouldn’t have Jeon Jeongguk any other way. 

The fresh memories playing vividly in your head on a loop that didn’t seem to want to stop. 

“I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”  Your own words echoed in your head. 

“You’re just gonna regret everything tomorrow.” Jeongguk’s voice echoed back louder. 

Too honest. Too late. And too real to take back.

Your fingers curled into your palm because you had still left despite everything. Even after saying you wouldn’t. Even after Jeongguk looked at you like he wasn’t surprised you would at all. That brief memory was the one sitting wrong in your chest now. It wasn’t the fact that you said the truth. It was the fact that Jeongguk had been right about you. 

You would leave. You would regret. 

Regret didn’t come cleanly. It came in pieces. In the way your body still wanted to go back. In the way your mind kept replaying the moment you chose the door instead of staying. And in the quiet certainty that if he asked you to come over again, you probably wouldn’t be strong enough to say no next time.

You kept your head turned toward the window, forehead almost touching the glass. Trying to shake the feeling of Jeongguk off your skin. Of the way he looked at you when deep inside of you asking you if you still loved him. Tried to shake off the way you stared into his glossy brown eyes and whispered yes over and over again. The way you answered him in the way you would never manage to do during the day. You tried to shake off the way it was so easy to always fall back into him. As though nothing had ever broken between you both in the first place.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That it couldn’t. That you wouldn’t go back again. That this was the last time. 

The thought barely finished forming before the sound came.

A low, aggressive rev from somewhere behind the car. Cutting through the quiet rhythm of the drive. You straightened up instantly, eyes snapping to the rear window.

A motorcycle.

Black. Fast. And closing the distance too quickly for it to be random traffic.

Your stomach dropped to your damn toes.

The motorcycle cut through the slow moving cars with practiced precision. Its black fairings gleaming beneath the streetlights. Slung low. Loud. Expensive. The tinted windscreen and matte black accents gave it a predatory look. 

You knew that bike.

You had spent too many nights on the back of it. Your arms around his waist while the city ceased to exist around you. You spent too many mornings watching the black machine disappear down empty streets, taking him with it too. Praying he made it back to you in one piece. 

The rider wore a helmet, dark and reflective. His face was completely hidden. But by now, you didn't need to see it. Recognition had already settled heavily in your chest.

Jeongguk.

Even without seeing his face, you knew.

The motorcycle pulled up along the car you were in and stayed there for a moment longer than necessary. Matching speed with the car. Not passing. Not falling behind. It was just there. Stalling. Close enough that you could feel it. There was a pressure in the air between you and him. As if it were a reminder that no matter where you went, Jeongguk would always be there. Waiting for you. Wanting you. 

You couldn’t see his eyes but you could feel them on you through his blacked out visor. Your breath caught, trapped somewhere between shock and something far more terrifying you didn’t want to name. 

For one reckless second, all you could think was that he had come after you. And that somehow, despite the promise you broke when you said you would stay, he still followed. 

The world narrowed to that moment. The hum of the engine beside you. The faded city lights behind his silhouette. The impossible fact of him choosing to be here.

Then, just as suddenly as he appeared, Jeongguk eased forward. Revving the engine of the motorcycle two more times before the bike surged ahead. Slipping cleanly past the car. A final flash of black, metal and quiet intent before he disappeared into the night.

There was no wave of hesitation. There was simply a presence that lingered long after he was gone. You stayed frozen. Fingers still curled against the purse held tight to your chest. Your heart beat so hard against your ribs, it felt painful. The window stayed open, but the air no longer felt cold enough because whatever that was. Whatever Jeongguk had just done… It wasn't an accident. 

He hadn't chased after the car to stop you. He hadn't asked you to come back. The message had been delivered the moment he pulled up beside the car and matched your speed. 

I'm here. And I'll always find you.

As the city lights swallowed the last trace of his taillight, the uneasy certainty settled deep within your chest. 

You and Jeongguk were never supposed to make sense. There was no clean beginning. No healthy ending. No point where either of you could draw a line and stay on the right side of it.

You happened. Like a collision. Like a bad habit. Yet even now, with distance growing between you and his apartment. With every street carrying you farther away… your hand was already reaching for your phone because deep down, beneath the fear and frustration and common sense, you already knew how this story would end.

You would go back.

 Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually. 

Again. And again. And again. 

Just as you always did.

A/N - I just know this man put a tracker on her. Crazy ass. 

This is my first time writing something like this. I was leaning towards a mafia style but didn’t make it obvious because I wasn’t really sure how to write it and my mind was skipping ahead of myself most of the time. It’s kind of all over the place, but if you’ve read my other work, you already know that's how I roll. The smut wasn’t LML level of nasty but after my hiatus I feel as though I’m not quite at that level yet. I’m working on it! 

If you enjoyed this, share your thoughts! Any requests? Let me know!

Thanks for reading! Xoxo