pairing: idol jungkook x f. fan reader
summary: what would you do when your bias offers you an NDA?
warnings: verydom!jungkook x shy!submissive reader, explicit sexual content, clit rubbing, pussy eating, blow job, squirting, edging, spitting, dom/sub dynamic, daddy, heavy degradation, dirty talk, multiple positions, detailed smut, jk is very mean, oral sex, mirror sex, slapping, choking, pussy slapping, anal, rimming, nipple play, praising, dumbfication, usage of slut/whore, cum eating, marking, mentions of oc being his toy, multiple orgasms, rough sex, mentions of sex doll, crying, overstimulation, fingering, nipple slapping, penetrative sex, hair pulling, creampie.
“Please, please, please!” you whispered to yourself, fingers crossed tightly as you stared at the three screens in front of you.
Your laptop. Your phone. Your tablet.
Your eyes were glossy with hope and adrenaline, your feet thumping uncontrollably beneath your chair, a thin layer of sweat forming despite the air-conditioned room wrapping around you in cold comfort.
This was your first time buying concert tickets. Despite being a long-time fan, this was your only chance—because you had finally gathered enough money to secure one.
You had prepared three Weverse accounts under your name and your parents’ names, carefully reserving each slot so you could slip into the presale the moment it opened. You had already studied how fast tickets sold out in other countries—the quickest being around ten minutes. Ten minutes of chaos, of people like you refreshing, praying, losing.
You bit your lip hard enough to feel it sting. You were still in the queue when the screen suddenly shifted, dragging you into a loading page that refused to move. Thirty minutes had already passed, and all three accounts were still stuck.
Your eyes widened when two of your accounts abruptly showed session timeout.
With shaky hands, you tried to navigate through it, but everything lagged—hesitating, freezing, slipping away from your control. You cursed under your breath, glancing at your laptop—the only one still holding on, still alive.
Your vision started to blur at the edges. The chances of getting a ticket were thinning by the second, dissolving right in front of you.
“Please, just this one…” you whispered to yourself, eyes locked on the screen with fragile, breaking hope.
Your eyes widened when the screen finally moved.
Just like that, your hopes were crushed.
You slowly looked up at the posters on your walls, the albums stacked neatly on your shelves, the plushies scattered across your bed, and the ARMY Bomb you had recently bought, displayed beside your BTS McDonald’s figurines.
Tears began falling uncontrollably from your eyes, like a flood breaking through something you could no longer hold together. The realization settled in—heavy, final—that you wouldn’t get to see them.
Your lips quivered as you quickly sank onto your bed, pulling your favorite pink cooky plushie close to your chest. You cried into it, letting everything spill out with an aching, exhausted heart.
Your parents tried to comfort you. They knew how much this meant. They had witnessed your journey growing up—how you stayed up all night waiting for comebacks, how you saved every bit of money just to buy new albums, how you would drop everything the moment a Weverse Live started, how you bought multiple happy meals just to complete all the toys, how you binge-watched their content and replayed Run BTS episodes whenever you had free time.
How deeply you adored and loved your bias…
You appreciated how your parents tried to look for tickets online for you, but the number of scams you’d heard about from resellers made you hesitate. Prices were tripled—far beyond your budget. You didn’t want to burden them, even when they insisted they were willing to cover the extra cost.
You were still a student, after all. You told them it was okay—that they should just save the money for your college instead.
“What if you just check in to the hotel they’re staying at? Girl, imagine!” your best friend Mina suggested.
The hot coffee you ordered had already gone cold. The concert was next month, and Mina was now throwing ridiculous ideas at you on how you could possibly see BTS. The supposed study session in the coffee shop had long been forgotten the moment you mentioned the upcoming concert.
“I doubt it. There’s usually no news about it because of their privacy… sometimes I only find out once they’ve already checked in or when they do a Weverse live.”
Mina rolled her eyes. “I’m sure there’s at least some news if you really dig into it. How many days is the concert?”
“Two days. And even if I wanted to stalk their hotel, I’m sure a lot of fans would do that too—and the next thing you know, the hotel is fully booked.” you pouted.
You were being realistic. The chances of seeing them at their hotel—or even getting a room there—were slim. With the number of fans camping out and others researching nonstop, you had almost zero chance.
“Do you want to see them or not? Come on, I’ll book a room with you!” she nudged your shoulders, wiggling her brows as she sipped her caramel macchiato.
You chuckled softly. “Of course I do, but I swear, Mina, it’s harder than you think…”
Mina groaned, stomping her feet. “Ugh, fine! But watching the concert online is really fucking boring when you know they’re literally in the same country as you.”
You sighed. Mina wasn’t really a fan, but she knew how much you loved BTS. When she found out you hadn’t secured a ticket, she had been the first to suggest the most ridiculous ideas—stalking their hotel, camping outside the arena, chasing anything that even remotely felt possible.
After a few months since the presale, it had been a hard pill to swallow—but you had finally accepted it. You wouldn’t get to see them. Even if Mina’s ideas lingered at the back of your mind, you knew better. The chances were too low. You’d rather stay at home, wear your cooky pajamas, and stream the concert online in peace.
Still… there were the sleepless nights.
The what-ifs that refused to leave you alone.
What if you had attended the concert? What if you had somehow booked the same hotel? What if you caught a glimpse of their van outside the arena?
Being a fan for almost a decade, you knew those kinds of scenarios only happened in fictional stories. Seeing Jungkook on a random day was like finding a bag of cash in a public restroom stall—completely impossible.
Though… still, a small part of you never fully stopped hoping.
“Also, isn’t our country their last stop?” Mina said, already searching for dates and details on her phone.
“Yeah… that’s why I actually had enough money and time… but I guess luck just wasn’t on my side,” you murmured bitterly, glancing around the busy coffee shop as if the noise could somehow quiet the ache settling in your chest.
Mina suddenly froze, her eyes widening. “Wait—since it’s the last stop… don’t you think they’ll stay longer? Maybe for a few more days, like… I don’t know, rest?”
You had already thought about it—but how on earth would you ever know their whereabouts? You’d only find out once they were already there, or when they went live. And since it would be after the concert, you were certain they’d want to rest, to disappear into privacy for a while.
“Mina… it’s okay. I swear, I’ll be fine.” you assured her, her ideas now more amusing than anything else.
Until your lunch break ended, Mina kept babbling—throwing out unrealistic scenarios straight out of books and fanfics. You laughed at her what-ifs, at the corny places her imagination kept taking you.
You knew she wasn’t doing it to be silly.
She was doing it because she knew you. Knew how badly you wanted to see them. Knew how quiet you’d become once the concert actually started.
So, as your best friend, Mina had decided something else entirely.
A short out-of-town trip. While BTS was in the country. A way for you both to disappear for a while, to breathe, to rest from studies, from expectations, from everything—including the concert you couldn’t attend.
“Mina! Why didn’t you tell me?” Your eyes widened in shock when you saw the cottage number and the dates.
Mina had booked a five-day beach trip, complete with daily activities that made your head spin just reading them.
“Don’t worry, you can bring your laptop so you can still stream the concert.” she snickered, handing you the itinerary.
“Mina! That’s not what I meant—this is too much,” you groaned.
She giggled, already sitting comfortably on your bed while you scanned through the list she had prepared. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun! Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve had a girls’ trip.”
You pouted at her, still in disbelief—but the resistance didn’t last. A smile slipped through as you pulled her into a hug anyway. “You and your ideas,” you chuckled.
“Bring cute clothes! Let’s take lots of pics—I want to update my IG!” she said excitedly.
You grinned. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow. My treat.”
Mina shrieked. “God, yes! Let’s go!”
The upcoming concert was still on your mind, but you were also busy preparing for the trip with Mina. You were excited—the small distraction keeping you from spiraling into a full breakdown over not being able to see BTS.
Wearing a cute sundress and brown sandals, you and Mina finally checked in. It was Day 1 of the concert. You had already set an alarm for the online stream later, a quiet kind of excitement settling in at the thought that, at the very least, you had the privilege of watching it while sipping fresh coconut by the sea breeze.
“Why the fuck are you reapplying your lip gloss?” Mina asked when she caught you touching up your makeup right before the concert started.
“To look cute while watching Jungkook,” you giggled, turning your ARMY Bomb on.
After dinner, you and Mina sat on a bench by the sand, your pocket Wi-Fi, laptop, and earphones already set up beside you.
Mina rolled her eyes. “That’s crazier than my ideas.”
You chuckled softly, eyes already fixed on the screen as the countdown began. Your heart raced like you were inside the stadium with them—like the distance didn’t exist at all.
When the concert finally started, Mina had to walk away because you were screaming too loudly, jumping from your seat and almost knocking over the coconut shake on the table.
“Girl, let me walk around and find a cute guy. Your shrieks are lowkey scaring me.” Mina laughed when she came back and saw you on the verge of tears, fanning yourself like you might actually pass out.
“Okay, oka—oh my gosh! They’re performing Dimple! Oh my gosh!” you shouted, already lost in it again.
For two days, you were completely gone in it—fangirling nonstop, fully absorbed in every moment. It was only on Day 3, when Mina had planned actual activities, that you finally stepped away from the screen. Until then, you had spent your time watching, rewatching, and reposting edits like the world outside didn’t exist.
“He’s so hot—I can’t believe he wore that gray shirt. It looked so good on him,” you babbled, telling Mina everything about the concert details and the surprise songs they performed.
The two-night concert had ended like a whirlwind, yet you were still floating on cloud nine. While Mina had been busy taking pictures and scouting for cute guys, you had been replaying everything in your head—taking screenshots, saving edits, and reliving every moment in real time like you couldn’t let it go.
Mina was just happy you enjoyed it. She even swore she almost thought you were going to have a heart attack when you shrieked so loudly after Jungkook lifted his shirt and revealed his abs. Your gallery probably had ten copies of that exact moment.
“And! Guess what!” you said, munching on your breakfast as you wiggled your eyebrows at her.
“Hmm… Jungkook showed his dick?”
“Mina!” Your cheeks burned as you nearly choked on the waffles you were eating.
Mina laughed, casually pointing her fork at you. “That would be good though.”
You shook your head quickly, your face still hot. “I mean—would want that—but guess what! He sang the chorus of Still With You in acapella!” you babbled again, as if Mina would fully grasp the weight of it.
For your third day, you and Mina were supposed to ride a yacht. You were already getting dressed when Mina suddenly squealed behind you, hurriedly tying the strap of her sandal.
“He replied! Oh my gosh, he’s treating me to dinner!” Mina said excitedly, quickly glancing at the mirror you were using to fix your hair.
“This guy I met while you were watching the concert! He wants to see me again!” She showed you her phone.
Your brows furrowed. “He’s inviting you to his cottage later?” you said, reading the message.
Mina’s eyes widened as she looked back at her phone. “Fuck! What should I do?”
“Wait… so you’re not going on the yacht with me?” you concluded.
Mina smiled cheekily, biting her lip. “Well… he’s cute and… hot…”
You raised a brow. “Make sure he’s really hot,” you chuckled, fixing your hair again in front of the mirror—when Mina suddenly squealed and hugged you from behind.
“Promise I’ll make it up to you! You’re the best!” she grinned, already moving back to the bed to grab her bag.
Mina had booked this trip for you, and you wanted her to enjoy it too. Even though she originally planned it as a girls’ trip, you had spent most of it absorbed in the concert. She had always supported your whims without hesitation—and now it was your turn to support hers.
“Why are you bringing that duffel bag?” you asked, amused at the amount of clothes she was packing.
Mina wiggled her brows. “Gotta be prepared, y’know.”
She walked towards the door, fixing her neckline one last time.
You grinned. “Text me when you’re heading back!”
“Yes, ma’am!” she giggled, throwing you a flying kiss before hurrying out.
The sheer amount of clothes Mina brought made it obvious—she probably wouldn’t be back tonight. You sighed softly, glancing down at your short pink floral dress, your hair tied in a half ponytail.
You still had two days left of the trip, but today was the first time it truly settled in. For the past two days, you had been completely immersed in the concert—no time to walk along the shore, no quiet moments to watch the sunset.
Now, it was finally your time to unwind.
Although you were tempted to doom-scroll edits again, you forced yourself up instead, deciding to follow the planned activity for the day and step outside.
“Number 9! Calling for all passengers on Yacht 9!”
You hurried over to the line, double-checking the receipt number Mina had reserved for you.
There were only a few people waiting—some couples and a small group of friends. You didn’t really mind being alone. If anything, you needed this time to unwind, to breathe, to exist without noise pressing in on you.
“Ticket, please!” the man in a white uniform said.
You handed it over, offering a polite smile before stepping onto the yacht.
A few groups had already settled in—holding bottles of champagne, chatting softly, taking pictures against the open sea. You made your way towards the main deck, where a small group of friends sat around a table filled with snacks and laughter.
Based on the crowd, you felt relieved it wasn’t too packed—maybe around twenty-thirty people scattered across the space, enough to feel lively but not overwhelming.
Soft music drifted through the air as the yacht moved gently along the waves. The salt of the sea lingered in every breath you took, calming something in you without you even realizing it needed calming.
You wandered towards a long table filled with food, your short dress and hair swaying slightly with the breeze.
There were different kinds of pastries, a large charcuterie board, bottles of wine and champagne catching the light, stacks of beer lined neatly at one end, and a few bags of chips scattered casually beside them.
Mina had definitely booked a nice yacht. You smiled to yourself, genuinely happy that you could finally relax and enjoy this moment—with good food, fresh air, and a quiet kind of peace you hadn’t realized you needed.
You grabbed a bag of potato chips and a bottle of wine, scanning the area for a place to sit until you spotted a vacant lounger on the sun deck.
“Perfect!” you mumbled excitedly when you noticed no one else had claimed that area.
Carefully placing your bag, chips, and wine down, you quickly took a photo to update Mina.
You were still busy snapping pictures when a small group—maybe four or five people—settled in beside you.
You weren’t really paying attention at first, but in your peripheral vision, you noticed they had brought an impressive amount of snacks with them.
You opened your chips and leaned back on the sun lounger. When you heard the sharp crack of a beer can opening, curiosity tugged at you, and you glanced over briefly.
It was a group of Korean men, older than you—probably in their mid-30s to 40s. Some wore black shades, already laughing as they settled into their drinks, their voices easy and relaxed.
They must be on vacation. This beach was a tourist spot, after all.
You turned your attention back to your chips, letting the sun warm your skin as you sank into the view. The group beside you wasn’t loud—they mostly talked about the scenery and the food, occasionally breaking into laughter over the activities they had tried earlier.
The world felt slow again, almost suspended in that gentle rhythm of waves and wind.
You were busy sipping your wine when you suddenly felt it—an unmistakable stare.
The group beside you was still laughing, their voices blending into the soft noise of the sea, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was looking at you.
These men were older, and for a brief moment, unease crept in.
You sneaked a glance over your shoulder and noticed the broad-built man in sunglasses staring straight ahead—past you.
Does he want potato chips or—
With a slight frown, you followed his line of sight properly this time.
He wasn’t looking at you.
He was looking at your bag on the table.
When he realized you were looking back at him, he quickly turned away, though the shift in his posture told you he was still thinking. Still aware.
Confused, you glanced down at your bag again.
It was just a simple beige tote bag. Nothing special. Nothing worth staring at.
You shrugged it off. It must’ve been a mistake. Besides, he was wearing sunglasses—maybe he was just spacing out, looking into nothing.
Munching on your chips again, you noticed him typing on his phone, suddenly more focused, as if he had detached himself from the conversation entirely.
You almost laughed to yourself, thinking he might actually be searching something about your bag online.
A strange thought—but harmless.
With a deep, content sigh, you leaned back again, the warmth of the sun and the rhythm of the waves slowly pulling you under.
And somewhere between the breeze and the quiet, you didn’t notice when your eyes finally closed.
By the time you woke up, it was already sunset.
The bottle of wine beside you was empty, and the small group that had been next to you earlier was gone. The sea breeze had turned cooler now—soft and comforting—while the sound of waves blended with the distant chatter of guests still enjoying the evening.
You stretched lightly and sat up.
Some people were still dancing, some chatting, others taking pictures against the fading orange sky. You still had a few hours left before the yacht returned to shore.
Grabbing your leftover chips and the empty bottle of wine, you frowned when something small caught your attention beside your bag.
Leaning in slightly, you picked it up—and realized it was a calling card.
Looking around, you didn’t see the group of Koreans anymore. You assumed the calling card must’ve come from them, especially given the Korean name and number printed on it.
Still… you were confused. Why would he leave his calling card?
Walking slowly along the yacht, you felt a slight dizziness from the wine lingering in your system. You tossed the empty chip bag and bottle aside, your eyes still scanning the space for any sign of the group you had seen earlier. The air had turned colder now, your short dress offering little protection against the breeze brushing against your skin.
Curiosity got the better of you—and maybe the alcohol gave you just enough courage.
You decided to dial the number.
“Yoboseyo?” a deep voice answered.
You swallowed. “Hello? I-Is this Song Hobeom?”
A brief sigh came through the line. “Yes?”
Confusion crept in when he didn’t immediately recognize you as the person from the sun lounger. You hesitated for a moment. Did he really hand out his calling card just like that?
“Uh, I was the one sitting on the sun lounger by the main deck. I think you left your calling card at my table?” you said, biting your lip as nerves slowly settled in.
You had no idea what he wanted—and yet here you were, calling him back.
“Oh, right. Thank you for calling back, ma’am. May I know when you are free? I would like to discuss something with you.” he said in a formal tone.
Confusion was written all over your face.
You walked towards the bow of the yacht, trying to escape the soft music and distant chatter, holding the phone closer to your ear.
“Uhm… may I know what for? This is a bit confusing.” You looked around again, but there was still no trace of the group from earlier. They must’ve already left.
“It is a bit confidential, ma’am. But don’t worry, I will give you a short background once we meet.”
You groaned under your breath. “I’m sorry, but can’t you just tell me this over the phone?”
You didn’t want to sound rude, but you didn’t know this man. It was already strange enough that he wanted to meet in person to “discuss something.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we may need to discuss this face-to-face to ensure the call is not being recorded. If you prefer, you may set the time and place.” he said formally.
You rolled your eyes. This was bullshit—it sounded like a scam. Some foreign guy trying to trick people before disappearing back to his country.
“Sorry, but I’m not interested. Thank you.”
You ended the call immediately.
You weren’t stupid enough to meet a stranger like that. You had only been curious, nothing more—but the moment he refused to explain anything over the phone, something in you clicked.
And you weren’t taking that chance.
You were about to walk back to the main deck when your phone beeped with a new message. You thought it was Mina, but the moment you recognized the country code, you immediately rolled your eyes.
You instantly regret calling his number. Opening the message, you saw that he had sent a file.
“I swear if this has a virus,” you mumbled.
You were about to tap it when another message came in.
Song Hobeom: The file can only be viewed once. Any form of screenshot or screen recording will be detected and notified. Please contact me again if you wish to proceed after reading the contract.
Song Hobeom: Please do not share this file or inform anyone about this matter. This is strictly confidential. Thank you.
You snorted softly, finding his messages almost ridiculous. It sounded like a joke—like he genuinely believed you’d get “in trouble” for forwarding whatever this was.
With a small smirk, you already decided you’d tell Mina about it later. You were definitely not falling for some scam. You’d open it, see whatever nonsense it was, and then block him right after.
With a sheepish grin, you tapped the file anyway… your heart giving a small, restless thump as the screen began to load.
What if it’s a jump scare?
Your brows slowly furrowed when the title finally appeared in bold capital letters:
You quickly scanned the document, reading faster and faster—until your eyes landed on a name that made your heart jolt.
“W-What the actual fuck?!” you gasped in shock. A few people turned to look at you, but you didn’t care. Your attention was completely locked on your phone.
You were starting to hyperventilate. You wanted to close it, to breathe, to think—but it was a view-once file. Your hands trembled as the alcohol from earlier wore off almost instantly, replaced by something sharper.
“This is not real… no freaking way,” you whispered weakly, quickly texting him back with shaking fingers.
No second thoughts—you typed immediately, afraid he might block you or change his mind.
You: I am free tomorrow at around 1 PM. Let’s meet by the coast area near the bar.
Song Hobeom: Noted, ma’am. Thank you for cooperating.
You never thought you would find yourself in a situation like this.
You chose a spot with very few people around. It was a nice sunny day, but your face already felt warm—nervous, alert, almost buzzing with anticipation.
Wearing a white floral dress, brown strappy sandals, and sunglasses, you called Mina beforehand and told her you’d be skipping the snorkeling activity for the day. You wanted to tell her the truth, but she didn’t question it when you said you just wanted to swim and relax by the ocean instead.
She told you she wouldn’t be back for tonight, giggling about the cute guy she had met. She kept talking, but your mind was elsewhere the entire time.
Honestly, you were relieved she wouldn’t be back soon. Given the terms written in the file, you needed time alone.
Or this opportunity—whatever it really was—might slip right through your fingers.
“Are you listening to me? You’re like… spacing out, girl!” Mina chuckled.
Your face immediately heated up. “Oh! A-Am I? I was just thinking about buying this merch, and it’s a bit expensive, so I was wondering if I should buy the whole set or just Jungkook’s edition.” you rambled quickly.
Mina laughed, shaking her head. “Just buy it all! Gosh! Anyways, so I went to this island…”
You bit your lip. She believed it.
She continued ranting, and you did your best to follow along, nodding at the right moments, forcing yourself to stay present. You had to hide this—or you’d be screwed.
“Do you want to order, ma’am?”
You looked up at the waiter and nearly froze when, for a split second, you thought it was Song Hobeom standing in front of you.
You were thirty minutes early.
Last night, you hadn’t slept at all—spending hours searching for the man behind the calling card. And what you found had hit you like a truck.
He wasn’t just some random foreign stranger.
The weight of the NDA had settled in slowly at first… then all at once.
The same Song Hobeom you had seen on the yacht… was the same man now appearing across articles and videos all over the internet.
“No, thank you. I’ll order later,” you politely declined. You didn’t think you could eat or drink anything at this point.
The waiter nodded and left you alone.
You let out a quiet sigh, glancing at your phone to check the time. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to steady your breathing—slow, controlled. You couldn’t afford to panic right now. Not here. Not yet.
The familiar deep voice made your eyes snap open.
He approached in a composed, almost professional manner, as if this were a business meeting rather than something that had your entire morning spiraling. Black shirt, gray board shorts, black shades. Calm, unreadable.
Your gaze narrowed slightly when you noticed the large iPad and brown envelope in his hands.
You immediately stood up, quickly straightening your dress before offering your hand.
“G-Good day, uh… h-have a seat, please.” you gestured, waiting until he sat down before you did.
“Have you eaten, Ms…?” he asked, pausing as if waiting for your full name.
“Oh, it’s Y/N L/N. I a-already had lunch,” you stammered, your heart racing as you finally introduced yourself.
He smiled and nodded. “That’s good to hear. I’m Song Hobeom, the manager of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”
He opened the brown envelope and showed you its contents. Like a startled kitten, you carefully took the papers.
“Have you read the file I sent you?” he asked casually, while opening his iPad.
You immediately nodded. “Y-Yes, uh… but I only scanned it quickly.”
It was true—you had replied almost instantly because you were scared he might unsend it or take it back.
He nodded. “Alright. Let me explain this to you thoroughly. Before proceeding, we require a Non-Disclosure Agreement to protect the privacy and safety of our artist. This agreement simply means that any information you may see, hear, or experience during your time with us—such as the artist’s location, conversations, or personal details—must remain confidential and cannot be shared with others, posted online, or discussed publicly,” he said in a formal, business-like tone.
You nodded quickly. “Y-Yes, I didn’t tell anyone!” you replied immediately.
He gave another nod, turning the iPad towards you to display the contract details. Then he began walking you through each section, one by one, in calm, structured explanations.
“Ms. Y/N, the NDA does not take away your rights or force you to do anything. It only ensures mutual privacy,” he stated, and you found yourself listening closely, agreeing more than questioning. The moment you had texted back was already a sign—you had chosen to proceed.
“Once signed, the confidentiality rules will remain in effect for the period stated in the document, and breaking the agreement could result in legal consequences.”
“I understand! I-I have researched how NDAs work as well.”
You bit your lip the moment you said it, suddenly realizing how desperate you sounded. You wanted to ask so many questions—why you, of all people, why this situation had landed in your lap—but you were too focused, too eager to get to the part that mattered most now.
Signing that damn contract.
“Good. If you have any questions or concerns, I want you to feel comfortable asking before signing—”
“No questions! I’ll s-sign,” you blurted out, cheeks warming as excitement slipped through your tone.
Mr. Song chuckled lightly and nodded before handing you an expensive-looking pen.
“Alright, please double-check the terms and conditions. Take your time, Ms. Y/N.”
Before you even properly reread the contract, you signed it—like your life depended on it. A shy, almost embarrassed smile formed on your lips as you finished.
He looked amused, like this wasn’t his first time seeing this reaction. As if he was already familiar with how quickly people surrendered to these documents.
Then he handed you the iPad for another copy.
Scrolling quickly, you signed again without hesitation.
Your eyes flickered over your own name—and then, for a brief second, your heart stuttered when you saw the name of the artist involved.
Mr. Song explained the terms and conditions again. You listened eagerly, a little calmer now that you had finally secured the contract.
“Thank you for signing, Ms. Y/N. Please remember to keep everything discussed and experienced confidential as agreed,” he said with a polite smile, handing you another calling card. “Mr. Jeon will be the one to contact you directly after this for any further coordination.”
You stared at the calling card—Jungkook’s name and number printed on it—your eyes widening in shock.
You stared at yourself in the mirror, now back in your cottage, pacing in front of it like a maniac.
You had one night. One fucking night with him.
The date stated in the contract was after your vacation ended. You were already stressing about what to tell Mina for extending your stay, what to say to your professors, your parents—because you had clearly told them your trip only lasted until next week.
Jungkook hadn’t contacted you yet. It was still too early. You had no idea if he was even on the island already. The only thing you knew was that you were supposed to meet him in Executive Cottage 3 at 8 PM next week.
You still couldn’t believe it.
You had always thought NDAs were just myths—fantasies spun by fans who imagined idols risking everything for a single private encounter.
Sure, you had heard rumors that things like this might actually happen… but you never thought you would experience it yourself—with your own bias, Jeon Jungkook.
It felt unreal. Worse—or better—than a concert. One-on-one. Up close. No distance at all.
Your cheeks warmed at the memory of the agreement, your heart picking up speed at the thought. It almost scared you how much you didn’t want to wake up in case this was all just a dream.
Sometimes you found yourself lightly slapping your cheek, as if reality still refused to fully sink in.
For months, you had been depressed over missing the ticket, and now—out of nowhere—you had the opportunity, the privilege, to meet your bias in private.
It was their last concert. Their managers were staying here to rest… and for what? To arrange potential NDAs?
Last night, after Mina’s call, you had spent hours deep in research—so deep it felt less like curiosity and more like you were preparing a thesis you somehow needed to defend. You searched everything: how NDAs worked, how participants were chosen, what would happen if you told someone, and a dozen other questions that only made your head spin the longer you read.
There was no hesitation anymore.
The moment you confirmed that Song Hobeom was actually their legitimate manager, something in you fully locked in. Any lingering doubt that the contract might be fake—or some elaborate prank—disappeared instantly.
And you had already signed it.
Your excitement had gone through the roof.
Even though you wanted to tell Mina so badly, your eagerness to meet Jungkook was far stronger. You couldn’t risk it.
“Huh? Why?” Mina questioned when she returned the next day and you immediately told her about extending your stay.
“I just want to relax more, you know… I didn’t realize the sea was this calming,” you smiled, trying to sound convincing.
You and Mina were now getting ready for the snorkeling activity. After dinner, you had decided you would break the news properly.
“Are you lying to me?” Mina raised a brow.
You went pale. “N-No, I j-just really wanted to sta—”
“You met a cute guy, didn’t you?” Mina accused, squinting at you.
You blinked, caught completely off guard by her conclusion. She knew you weren’t the type to extend a trip like this—especially with school starting next week—unless, of course, it was for BTS.
Mina giggled. “Ha! That’s why we’re besties!”
Maybe a little white lie wasn’t so bad.
Mina told you she couldn’t extend her stay anyway since she had a presentation due next week. Even though she wanted to stay longer, you reassured her you’d be fine—and that you just wanted some alone time with your “cute guy.”
The following days felt like a whirlwind. You enjoyed your last activities with Mina, all while quietly trying to keep it together every time the agreement flashed back into your mind and sent your thoughts spiraling.
When the last day came, you practically rushed Mina into the van just to get a proper goodbye out before she left.
Tomorrow was finally the day.
And yet, Jungkook still hadn’t contacted you.
The day before, you had already gone through a medical examination—another requirement of the NDA. You were honestly surprised at how professional it all was, how organized everything felt despite how unreal the situation still seemed in your head.
It was almost ridiculous how seriously you had started taking everything.
You shaved your entire body. Scrubbed yourself religiously every night. Applied lotion more than usual. Even started doing small morning workouts after meals, as if preparation alone could somehow calm your nerves.
“Hi, Jungkookie!” you practiced in front of the mirror, batting your eyelashes.
“Fuck! Why did I do that?” you immediately cringed, shaking your head.
You tried again, this time forcing a different tone.
“So… how was the concert?”
“I’m honored to be chosen.”
“I love you. You’re my everything.”
You groaned and covered your face completely.
You had no idea what to expect. The thought of meeting Jungkook was overwhelming in every possible way—like your brain couldn’t decide whether to freeze, panic, or completely shut down.
And honestly, you were starting to worry you might faint… or embarrass yourself beyond recovery the moment it actually happened.
The contract stated “private meeting,” and you weren’t exactly Sherlock, so it wasn’t hard to conclude that it involves fucking. Especially considering they required a medical examination—surely not for a simple chat.
You almost screamed when your phone beeped with a message.
Jungkook: Hi Y/N, see you tomorrow at 8!
“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” you jumped onto your bed, staring at the text like it wasn’t real.
His message was so casual, completely different from the formal, business-like tone Song Hobeom used. It almost made it feel even more surreal.
“What should I reply… oh my gosh.”
You bit your lip, carefully choosing your words so you wouldn’t mess anything up.
The cottage was larger than yours—an executive unit reserved for upper-class guests—with soft ambient lighting, a private veranda, a small plunge pool, a carefully kept garden, a few hammocks swaying gently in the breeze, and direct access to the beach.
This area felt different. Quieter. More secluded. Tucked away from the other cottages scattered across the busy island.
You had expected to be guided by bodyguards, but there was no one. No visible security, no presence at all. It felt intentional—like the meeting was meant to be so private that even protection would disrupt it.
Wearing a lilac wrap dress, white glittery doll shoes, and your hair curled neatly at the ends, you slowly made your way towards the cottage.
Your fingers hesitated before pressing the keycard Mr. Song had given you last week. The soft beep that followed made your nerves spike instantly—a quiet confirmation that you had arrived, and that you were allowed inside.
Once the door opened, you stepped in.
You were immediately met with a spacious bedroom featuring a king-sized bed, a lounge area, a large wooden door that likely led to the bathroom, and wide tinted windows with sliding doors that opened directly to a full view of the sea.
You stood there for a moment, taking it all in with wide eyes.
Carefully, you placed your bag beside the bed and began walking around the space, your curiosity slowly building. On the table, you noticed a selection of pastries and a neatly arranged meal set waiting, untouched.
You gasped, your eyes snapping towards the bathroom door as the man you only saw on screens stepped out.
Jungkook wore nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp, droplets of water trailing down his neck and collarbones as he ran a smaller towel through his hair.
Your lips parted slightly. Fuck.
He walked toward the coffee table first, casually lifting the silver cloche to check the prepared dinner as if nothing about this moment carried any weight at all.
But for you, everything had just short-circuited.
Jungkook—right there in front of you. Real. Close. Breathing the same air.
You had seen him countless times on screens, in edited clips and fan videos—but none of that had prepared you for this. In person, his presence felt heavier, more grounded. His frame looked broader, more defined. The tattoos you had only ever glimpsed before were now fully visible under the soft lighting, detailed and striking in a way that made your thoughts scatter instantly.
Even his voice—when he spoke—carried a calm, effortless depth that made your mind go blank before it could catch up.
All the lines you had practiced disappeared completely.
You couldn’t believe he was real.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, turning towards you while still holding the cloche.
Your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You stood near the couch like you’d been rooted in place, completely caught off guard.
A quiet chuckle left him as he noticed your reaction. He set the lid back down and began walking towards you.
Your breath hitched when he closed the distance. His fresh scent—clean, minty, just out of the shower—wrapped around you, sharpening your senses in an instant.
“Relax,” Jungkook said softly, his tone calm and steady as he gently placed a hand on your arm.
The touch was light. Grounding.
Warmth spread through your skin immediately, like your body had finally registered his presence all at once.
You nodded too quickly, blinking as if that could reset your brain. Your heart was pounding so hard you were convinced it had to be audible.
Jungkook smiled slightly, looking down at you. “Hmm, look at me.” he said when you kept avoiding eye contact.
You tried—but the moment your eyes lifted, you almost froze again.
Dark doe eyes met yours, steady and unreadable, holding you in place. His right hand lifted your chin just as you instinctively tried to look away again.
“Sit down on the couch for me, mhm?” he said gently, guiding you down with an easy, controlled calm.
You were so nervous, looking up at him like a shy deer. All the conversations you had prepared were completely forgotten—you were mentally blocked.
Jungkook tilted his head at you, still standing as he looked down at your form. “You okay, pretty girl?”
Your cheeks turned crimson at the compliment, and you nodded again like you had lost your voice.
Jungkook chuckled, crouching down to get to your eye level. “Talk to me, baby. Wanna hear you.”
“H-Hi,” you said in a small voice, almost choking on the words.
“Hmm, louder.” Jungkook whispered, raising a brow at you.
You gulped harshly, squeezing your own hands in nervousness. “H-Hi, Jungkook. Nice to meet you.” you said, a little clearer this time.
Jungkook smiled, sitting beside you. “There you go. Good job, baby.” he praised. “So polite.”
You smiled back shyly, your breath hitching when he took your hands—hands you hadn’t even realized you were squeezing so tightly.
“Baby, you’ll hurt yourself doing that…” he said gently, holding your hands and lightly tracing over the faint marks you had left on your skin.
“Do you want to eat first? What do you want to do?” he asked softly, studying your nervous expression.
He was so calm, so composed, so sweet—it made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You bit your lip under his attention, suddenly hyper-aware of every small movement you made.
His gaze briefly dropped to your lips. He swallowed subtly, something shifting in his expression for just a moment before he looked back up at you again.
“W-Whatever y-you want to do…”
Jungkook raised a brow at you, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah?”
You nodded quickly. “Yes…”
Jungkook straightened up, his gaze briefly dropping over your short dress, lingering for a moment before he looked back at the table.
“There’s a bunch of pastries you might want to try. Do you like sweets?” he said softly, opening the glass lids of the desserts in front of you.
You smiled shyly, eyes shifting towards the neatly arranged food. “Yes, I like c-cookies.”
Jungkook smiled, reaching for the tray of cookies with different flavors—chocolate chip, walnut, matcha, red velvet, and more you couldn’t even name at a glance.
You kept your eyes fixed on the cookies, forcing yourself not to look at him, especially with how near he was.
“I’ve tried walnut and matcha,” he said, pointing at a few of them.
You pouted and picked the flavor he suggested. He smiled when you chose the matcha, carefully placing the tray back down on the table.
“Do you want milk?” he asked, pointing at the bottle beside the pastries.
You nodded, taking a small bite while he poured a glass for you.
“Thank you…” you said with a shy smile.
He smiled back and stood up to get dressed while you focused on eating the cookies. When he came back, he was wearing a white shirt and black comfy shorts. He sat beside you and took a cookie for himself as well.
Jungkook was patient, sweet, and gentle with you. He occasionally asked about your hobbies, your likes, your favorite food, and small details that only your parents and Mina usually knew.
With a soft, hesitant voice, you slowly opened up—talking about how you became a BTS fan, how long you had followed them, and how much you liked him.
He listened closely, never interrupting, only asking follow-up questions like he was genuinely interested.
His eyes followed your lips whenever you spoke, then shifted to your eyes whenever you looked away. And every time your voice got smaller, he leaned in slightly, as if trying not to miss a single word—especially when you talked about him.
Neither of you mentioned the NDA.
It felt, strangely, like you were simply there to spend time with him.
You honestly thought he wouldn’t talk much, given how shy you were—but Jungkook was unexpectedly patient, giving you space to settle in and feel comfortable around him.
You were giggling about his travel story with Jimin when you noticed his tattooed hands slowly settling around your waist.
“A-And what did he do?” you asked, a little startled.
Jungkook had been talking about some of their personal trips with the members. You were surprised by how open he was with you—the way he spoke during his Weverse lives was exactly the same in person: charming, funny, and easy to talk to.
You hadn’t expected him to answer your small, silly questions, but he was attentive, responding to everything like you had known each other for years. You felt, strangely, at ease.
He pouted slightly, suddenly distracted by the lace ruffles at the hem of your dress, his fingers lightly brushing and playing with them.
“Used all his perfume to spray it on the huge bug.” he chuckled lowly, his eyes still lowered towards your dress.
You giggled, imagining the chaos. “Did the bug get killed?”
Jungkook slowly looked at you, his eyes a little heavy-lidded, his hands still idly playing with the hem of your dress.
Your eyes widened when he pulled you closer, his left arm circling your waist to steady you. His right tattooed hand lifted both your legs across his lap.
“You smell good.” he murmured closely, fingers now toying with the ribbons of your wrap dress.
You gulped harshly, your hands resting awkwardly on his arm for balance. Up close, he could see the details of your makeup—light glitter dusted across your cheeks and eyelids, pink gloss on your lips, a soft blush deepening from warmth, and lashes curled with a hint of mascara.
He lifted a loose strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear, then let his fingers trail lightly along your cheek.
“You dolled up for me?” he said lightly, tilting his head.
His tone had shifted—less careful now, more playful… almost teasing.
“Y-Yes… do you like it?” you asked shyly. It had taken you hours to finish your makeup, hours to pick a dress and style your hair. You were almost embarrassed when you saw that he looked so fresh and handsome after the shower, while you had taken an eternity to get ready.
Jungkook poked the inside of his cheek. He held your face with one hand, almost squishing both of your cheeks. His touch was gentle, but the way he tilted your head to examine your face made you feel weird.
“I do,” he said lowly. “I like the glitters.”
You smiled, a bit more confident now. “Really?” you said happily, leaning a little closer to him. “Matches my doll shoes right?” You moved your toes up and down.
Jungkook nodded, his lazy eyes staring at you, then down at your dress. His hands traced slow circles on your bare thighs, making you tingly.
“I noticed something though…”
“Hmm, what?” you tilted your head curiously.
He pouted. “Your dress has no glitters, babygirl.” He slightly held the end of your dress, as if examining the texture.
You pouted. “Yeah…” You looked down. “B-But—”
Your thoughts were interrupted when he softly kissed your cheek.
“Hmm…” He slowly held the ribbons of your dress, and with one hand, he untied the knot.
“W-Wait—” you gasped, eyes widening when you saw what he was doing.
“It has no glitters, baby… doesn't match your pretty little shoes and makeup." he said in a mocking tone, removing your dress from your shoulders.
“Jungkook…” you said softly, cheeks growing hot under his gaze.
Licking his lower lip, his gaze dropped to your body.
The soft swell of your breasts was hugged perfectly by the white bra you were wearing, matching the delicate fabric of your panties. The small white ribbon resting between your breasts and the top of your underwear caught his attention—something so simple, yet enough to make his cock tighten.
You looked… soft, so pretty, too cute. Ready to be ruined by him.
His hands slowly moved to the straps of your bra “Oh baby…” he said in a cooing tone. “This doesn’t have glitters as well.” He said it like it was a problem. His fingers hooked onto the straps before pulling them away from your skin—only to let them snap back in place, the sting blooming lightly against you.
You were speechless. The way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, the way he played with you—it made your body heat up, a quiet rush of warmth settling low in your stomach.
Your instinct was to cover yourself, but the way he raised a brow at you made you hesitate, a shiver running through you instead. You blinked slowly, caught between nerves and awareness you couldn’t quite name.
“Jungkook, t-this is embarrassing.” you said in a small voice.
You thought you could be confident—years of reading fanfictions had convinced you of that. You were certain you could fuck him better, that you could show him what you were capable of. Make him feel good. Please him. Make him happy.
You had been so sure of yourself—so full of it, even—thinking you could give him the best night of his life.
But the moment he touched you, your mind went completely blank. All rational thoughts slipped away, leaving you flustered and unsure of yourself, shrinking back into a shy, overwhelmed version of you.
Jungkook chuckled sarcastically. You gasped when he suddenly pulled your hair, his lips reaching under your ear to whisper.
“You signed up for this, didn’t you?” he rasped, his lips grazing your earlobe.
You squealed, his dominance eating you alive. His sweet, teasing tone was gone; the way he pulled your hair closer made you shiver.
“Y-Yes,” you bit your lip. You felt his lips move down your neck, his hot breath tickling you.
“Hmm… do you want me to elaborate on what we’re doing here?” he said in a tone like he was talking to a child. You gasped when he slightly bit your neck.
He removed your bra quickly, tossing it somewhere before his fingers grazed near the swell of your breast, teasing you.
“Use your pretty little brain, baby, come on…” he said harshly, suddenly pinching your nipples, making you whimper.
Jungkook raised his head to look at you, his pupils dilated. The way he swallowed harshly when he saw your round breast and pink nipples made him leak.
“Do you know…” he whispered under your ear. “How bad…” He slightly slapped your nipple, soothing it afterward by rolling it gently between his fingers. “I wanted to fuck you?”
“Look at you… you’ll let me do whatever I want, right?”
You shut your eyes tightly…followed by a slow nod, stunned by his words and actions.
He raised a brow, eyes dropping to your nipples. Your vision almost slipped when he suddenly spat on them, using his fingers to spread it over your breast.
“Yeah? You’ll let me use you?” he said in a low voice, his hands now trailing down the garters of your underwear. “Like a pretty little, sparkly slut that your are.’’
You knew what he wanted—it had been clear from the very beginning. It had already been hours, and you were still shy and hesitant. You wanted this too, but you were scared to make the first move, scared to say or do something that might turn him off.
He, on the other hand, had been patient from the start—letting you settle in, letting you eat, letting you relax, asking you what you wanted, giving you time without rushing you.
You didn’t realize the way his eyes darkened the moment you entered his room—the way they wandered down the valley of your breasts, the way they roamed over your dress that hugged your curves— showing the swell of your hips, the way his gaze followed the pout of your lips. The way your cute little glitters and doll shoes made you look like a proper little slut for him to use.
It’s been more than a year.
Jungkook had been busy with tour, with the group’s latest comeback. He had been working endlessly—promoting their new songs, filming content for a variety of brands, updating his Instagram and TikTok daily for ARMYs, practicing nonstop to show his best on tour. His schedule had been packed for over a year since their comeback.
Now that the tour had finally come to an end, it was his time to relax and unwind.
Jungkook’s stamina was unreal. Despite his busy schedule, there were times he would ask his manager to arrange private, strictly confidential meetings through NDAs.
Unfortunately, their latest tour had been much bigger, making it harder for his manager to coordinate anything outside of his packed schedule. Because of that, for the past months, Jungkook had been letting all of his sexual frustrations by himself.
It started in 2017. At first, he was the one personally choosing and approving everything himself, but after a few years—once his fame and schedule became even more intense—his manager took over the process. It became less personal and more structured, handled carefully behind the scenes.
With his level of fame, everything had to be treated with strict confidentiality and formal documentation.
For years, all the NDAs Jungkook had been involved with stayed quiet—carefully kept private, out of fear of the consequences, but also lingering with the hope of another night with him.
He was a man, after all. With his busy schedule and global fame, there was no room for commitment or long-term relationships. Everything in his life moved too fast, too publicly, too tightly controlled.
Because of that, he relied on brief, private arrangements—carefully managed and kept out of the public eye—to relieve stress and maintain some sense of personal balance amid his packed schedule.
It was almost like something carefully curated over time. He didn’t have a specific type, but his manager knew him well enough to anticipate what he was comfortable with. Over the years, everything had become more structured—quiet introductions, formal agreements, and strict confidentiality before anything could proceed.
After the tour, Jungkook had been particularly insistent on arranging an NDA soon. The long schedule and constant pressure had built up, and he needed a way to release the pent up sexual frustration.
When the team decided to extend their stay in the country after the final stop, his manager quietly began looking into possible private, strictly confidential arrangements handled under NDAs.
It wasn’t urgent—more of a routine precaution when they had extended time in one location. In most cases, it was beneficial if the person involved was already an ARMY, since familiarity with boundaries and expectations made things easier. Over time, most of the people who signed were fans in one way or another, while others were simply individuals who happened to be in the right place at the right time and agreed to the confidentiality terms.
Jungkook himself rarely interfered with the process. He trusted his manager to handle the details, especially during tours and rare breaks when privacy mattered more than anything else. The goal was simple: rest, recovery, and avoiding unnecessary exposure.
That was why his manager moved discreetly when he saw you—subtly noting your presence, your behavior, and your isolation from the crowd before eventually placing a small calling card on your table.
When Jungkook saw you standing in front of him, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, all his rational thoughts slipped away for a moment. You looked so sweet, ready to be used.
Jungkook was unbearably horny.
He wasn’t the type to extend another night, even with a potential NDA—but he was the type who wouldn’t stop fucking you once you stepped into his space. The kind who fucked hard. The kind who took control and dominated you without hesitation. The kind who would leave marks—bruises that lingered long after the night ended. Whether you were the shy type or the bold type, you would fold once he touches you, once he pulls your hair and manoeuvres your body to his own liking.
He’s mean when he fucks, praising you in a degrading way… though he would always start off sweet, to ease the tension, with his usual kind self and bunny smiles.
He would fuck you like a dirty whore, play with you like a little toy, use you like a cum dump.
When he noticed how hesitant and vulnerable you were, he took the lead by making sure you were comfortable at first. But his patience was running thin. Your sweet scent engulfed his senses—your soft voice and small giggles, your shy smile and twinkling eyes—it all made his cock twitch.
It had been months—too long without a proper release. At first, he wanted to take his sweet time with you, but your hesitance and shy demeanor were driving him crazy. Jungkook wanted to bend you over and fuck your unused holes, wanted to wrap his hands around your neck, wanted to fuck your pretty mouth until you were gagging and crying for him, wanted to feel your warm pussy wrapped around him until he could no longer think straight.
He forcefully ripped your underwear, leaving red marks on your thighs. Your body was now fully exposed to him.
“Pretty girl,” he mused, when his gaze dropped at your pussy, you instinctively closed your legs.
He gripped your thighs, forcing them open so he could look at your cunt. “Pretty little pussy.” he whispered, staring at your cunt with a faint shine visible from your wetness. “Acting so shy yet your pussy is soaking.”
“Jungkook, p-please…” you pleaded, slightly moving your legs.
“Aww, a few moments ago you wouldn’t let me see you. Now you’re pleading, hmm?” he cooed.
Your breath hitched when his index finger traced the slit of your cunt, gathering your juices.
“Oh, t-that’s—” you whimpered.
He was making you so wet and turned on. Not that you weren’t already—your shyness was already getting the best of you—but the moment he took the lead, whatever composure you had left began to slip away. Your thoughts scattered, your attention narrowing to him alone, your body reacting in a way that made you feel both overwhelmed and helplessly aware of him.
Your eyes widened when he licked the finger that had gathered your wetness, staring at you while his tongue rolled over it.
“Hmm, you taste so good.” his finger, now wet with saliva, went back down your cunt to gather your juices again, bringing it to his mouth to taste it once more.
“N-No, I haven’t,” you admitted shyly.
He placed his wet finger on your lip. “Open,” he said sharply, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
You slowly opened your mouth, his finger immediately sliding in so you could taste yourself.
“That’s it… twirl your tongue, baby.” You obediently twirled your tongue around his finger, your saliva dripping down his hand messily. His cock twitched at the sight, he pulled his finger from your mouth with a soft pop.
“Get on the bed and spread your legs.” slapping your thigh lightly to urge you up.
You were almost dizzy, his words barely registering in your mind… you stood up, almost stumbling, but Jungkook caught your waist firmly.
“Careful, baby.” he chuckled lowly, your cheeks heating up in response.
Your legs felt weak as you made your way to the bed, Jungkook following behind. When you bent down to remove your doll shoes, he held your arm to stop you.
“O-Okay,” your brows furrowed, slowly sitting on the bed with your doll shoes still on.
Jungkook raised a brow at you. “Raise your legs on the bed.”
“But my shoes…” you pouted.
Jungkook chuckled, crouching down to level with your face. “It has glitters, baby. No need to remove it.”
You blinked slowly, the realization settling in as you recalled his earlier comment about your dress and undergarments not having any glitter details.
Raising your feet, you let your doll shoes rest on the mattress. Your legs were folded as you adjusted yourself, your wet cunt fully exposed under his gaze.
Jungkook’s hand moved absently over his shorts as he looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his attention fixed on your wet pussy. “Spread wider, baby. Hold your ankles for me.”
You spread your legs wider, holding your ankles, making yourself open for him. Your juices leaked down onto the mattress, giving him a clear view. Your cheeks and neck turned red from what you were doing for him.
“That’s it, wider.” he groaned, removing his shirt and shorts in one go. Your arms almost gave out when you saw him naked in front of you.
He was so huge—his cock red and veiny, precum leaking from the tip, his hand gripping himself, rolling the foreskin, pumping more wetness onto his mushroom head.
Jungkook moved closer, looking down at your cunt while palming himself shamelessly. “Do you like how I touch my cock?’’
You whimpered when his other hand went down to you, his middle finger sliding into your hole easily. The wet squelching sound filled the room.
Using your wetness, he spread it around his cock like lubricant, mixing it with his precum. “You’re so wet baby, my good little whore.”
You whined, your arms growing tired from the position. When you tried to let go of your ankles, Jungkook slapped your pussy.
“Keep them open,” he said harshly, squeezing his cock tighter, releasing more precum at the tip.
“Let me see your pretty holes, yeah?” His cheeks hollowed as he gathered saliva and spat onto your exposed cunt, letting it drip inside your wanting hole.
“Jungkook, p-please… I can’t anymore,” you whined, your body clenching around nothing. You wanted him to touch you.
“Shh, be a good doll and stay still, yeah?” he groaned, spitting down on his cock, spreading it along his shaft as he pumped faster while looking at you.
It was so overwhelming—the way he looked at you while touching himself made you so wet.
“P-Please, t-touch me.” you pleaded, your eyes glossy with need, whining when you felt more of your juices spill onto the bed.
Jungkook groaned, “Be a good fucking slut and watch me touch my cock.”
It was obscenely dirty—watching him touch his cock so fast, his gaze locked on your pussy. Every now and then, he’d gather your slick with his fingers, spreading it along his length, making himself even wetter, even more desperate.
And just when it looked like he was about to cum—he stopped.
His hand tightened around the tip, squeezing just enough to hold himself back, dragging the moment out, edging himself with a restraint that only made it worse.
“Fuck!” he quickly kneeled down in front of you, his face now very close to your pussy. When you looked down, your eyes fluttered when you saw him staring closely at your twitching hole.
“You look so tight,” he groaned, his finger tracing your cunt lightly.
“Koo…” you moaned, already shaking from the contact.
He kissed your inner thigh, occasionally biting the soft skin to leave marks. When you were already getting too whiny, he leaned in closer, his tongue pushing inside you.
“Oh, Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, the feeling of his hot tongue inside your hole making you quiver. He was pushing his tongue so deep, like he wanted to collect all your juices.
“Mhm,” he moaned, the vibration giving soft pulses down your clit. He collected all your juices, sucking them as much as possible, going deeper and deeper just to spit it right back up on your swollen clit.
“Oh my gosh—” you whimpered. He was making you as messy as possible. When he wrapped his lips around your clit to suck, you almost saw stars from the pleasure, the sensation pulsating through your whole body making you roll your eyes back.
“You like that?” he murmured while sucking your clit, his tatted finger going inside your hole, releasing more juices from you.
You nodded almost instantly, holding your ankle tighter. When he nipped harshly on your clit, you almost dropped your legs, shaking from how good his lips and tongue felt. He looked up at you, still sucking your clit while inserting another finger inside you, instantly brushing your sensitive spot.
The way his middle and ring finger brushed your g-spot made your clit pulse. With the pressure of his lips around your clit, you were close to cumming.
“Go ahead baby, wanna eat your cum,” he whispered against your cunt, sucking harder, his fingers moving aggressively inside you.
You were shaking. When you felt your high building, you almost pushed him away, letting go of your ankles to grip his hair.
“Jungkook! S-Stop,” you pleaded weakly. The pleasure was too much, too intense. His pace did not falter, his hand pressing your lower stomach down.
When he removed his fingers, you thought he was done, but he immediately rubbed your clit in circles, spitting down on your hood while holding your wriggling body in place.
You moaned loudly… his fingers, his mouth, his spit—all of it pushed you over the edge. You came so hard you almost fainted.
He still didn’t stop- you were overstimulated, trying to push him away, but he wouldn’t let you, drawing more release out of you. The pressure of his fingers dragged you into another climax, making you squirt messily around him, splashing his face, his neck, his body.
“S-stop, please Koo…” you cried, shaking uncontrollably as you squirted again. His fingers still didn’t stop. His dark eyes stayed fixed on your swollen pussy, amusement etched across his face.
“Messy girl, good job baby.” he cooed, giving your pussy a light slap to coax out the remaining slick.
Your cheeks were wet with tears, your body weak from orgasm. He leaned down, holding your cheeks gently to make you look at him.
“Poor baby, let me wipe your tears, hmm?”
He leaned down, licking your tears slowly, his hot tongue dragging wetly across your cheeks.
You whimpered, your body barely holding itself together. His lips moved down to your nipple, sucking the hard bud softly, while his other hand caressed your other breast, pinching and rolling your nipples.
His throbbing cock grinds against your spent pussy, his swollen tip smearing messily against your slit, spreading his precum all over your cunt.
“Koo…” you said softly, still tired and hazy from your release.
His mouth moved to your other nipple, his teeth tugging slightly, making you gasp. You were certain you would have bruises—the way he sucked your nipple mirrored how he had sucked your clit, lingering just enough to draw a reaction, coating it in spit before taking it fully into his mouth.
“Baby, can you feel how hard I am for you?” he whispered, his cock grinding slowly against your wet pussy, his tip brushing your clit… making you wetter again. “Do you know how long I wanted to fuck a nice warm pussy?” He grabbed your neck, your lips parting instinctively. He took the chance to spit into your mouth, leaning down to slip his tongue in messily, swallowing your moans and protests. His grip tightened each time you whimpered.
“Been touching my hard cock for months baby,” His movements were slow, deliberate—drawing arousal back into your body. “Need your tight pussy so bad.” The way he rolled his hips against you, the way he silenced you with his tongue so no protests could leave your mouth.
“You wanted this?” he groaned against your lips, releasing your neck only to squeeze your breast harshly.
“Answer me,” he said sharply, tapping your right cheek.
“I w-want this,” you said with glossy eyes, small hands gripping his arm tightly.
He tilted his head at you. “Yeah? You wanted to be fucked like a slut don’t you?” he taunted, sitting up to squeeze his cock, teasing himself by twirling his index finger over his tip. “Are you a slut? hmm?”
You nodded weakly. “Would do anything for y-you.’’ you said shyly.
Jungkook raised a brow, standing up at the edge of the bed. “Come here then, crawl to me.”
It was degrading, the way he treats you like a slut for him to use… yet it makes you wetter, makes you hornier. You crawl towards him like a good whore, looking up at him with pleading, sparkly eyes. Your makeup is ruined, your hair disheveled, your doll shoes still intact, making you look like a ruined sex doll.
“Good girl, now wrap your hands around my cock.” he rasped, holding the base out for you. When your small, shaky hands felt his veiny shaft, you almost came again. It twitched in your grip, hard and flushed red at the tip.
He groaned. “Spit on it, baby. Make it nice and wet for me.”
You spat on his cock, spreading it around the base before moving your hands up and down, rolling the foreskin as you worked him. He moaned loudly, head tipping back, jaw clenched, sweat forming across the expanse of his chest.
“That’s it, what a good little whore.” he praised, caressing your hair.
You tried your best to make him feel good. You raised your other hand, spitting into your palm and spreading it together with his precum.
Jungkook groaned at the sight. Using both of your hands, you made a twisting motion along his length, looking up at him like a good girl.
“I w-want you,” you said with a bit of confidence.
Jungkook cursed under his breath. “Suck my cock.” He slapped your hands away, then pulled your hair, forcing you to take his cock into your mouth. His breath hitched when he felt you gag around him, your nose pressed against his pelvis, your eyes turning watery.
“Take it,” he groaned harshly, guiding your head up and down like you were his personal fleshlight. You tried your best to take him, even though he was so big in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.
It was sloppy and nasty. Your tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, tracing the mushroom tip while you hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard. Spit and precum was leaking down your chin, your eyes glossy and red, the way you twirled your tongue to trace the veins of his cock made him groan.
“Hands behind your back,” he panted.
You immediately did what he said, your body fully under his control. When he pushed deeper, your face pressed against his pubic hair. You choked, saliva and precum bubbling at the corners of your mouth, you want to tap his leg, the air in your lungs limited.
“You look so pretty with my cock- fuck! I’m gonna cum.” he grunted, keeping you close until you felt the liquid heat spreading inside your throat. He forced you to swallow, keeping your face snug against his pelvis so not a single drop would spill.
When he released your head, you almost collapsed onto the bed. Your eyes were red, your mouth slightly bruised, and your neck ached from the way he had angled your face. Due to exhaustion, you let him maneuver your body, pushing you down and flipping you over.
“Bend over, baby. I’m not done using you.”
He was still hard, giving his cock a few more pumps before guiding it towards your pussy.
“Open your pussy, baby. Be a useful slut and spread yourself for me.”
With weak hands, you reached back to spread yourself for him, opening your folds. Your wetness leaked down your inner thighs.
“Look at you. You just came, yet your pussy already wants more… dripping all over my sheets like a whore.” he said mockingly.
You whimpered. “P-please, f-fuck me.” You were almost crying, your arms tired and your body aching from the position, but you wanted to please him so badly, wanted him to use you till you could no longer take it anymore.
Jungkook chuckled behind you. You thought he would tease you again, but you gasped when he suddenly pushed his cock inside you. Despite your earlier orgasm, the stretch was still painful, making you scream into the sheets.
“You’re so tight, fuck.” he groaned, looking down at his cock getting swallowed by your tight pussy.
He leaned down, pressing your head down further, his cock pushing deeper and deeper, making you squirm in both pleasure and pain.
“Fucking slut, so tight around daddy.” he whispered, your face buried in the sheets.
You clenched around him, whining against the mattress.
“Oh, you like that?” he taunted, pushing deeper until he reached your g-spot.
You could feel every drag of his cock inside you—his veins, his mushroom tip. The stretch was so good you were close to cumming, clenching around him as he fucked you deeper.
“Stop that, baby, I’m gonna cum.” he almost laughed, pulling your hair up so he could see your face. “Want to fuck you for hours, baby. I’m gonna use your tiny hole till daddy can’t release cum anymore. Do you want that?”
You whimpered, “Yes, d-daddy.”
He groaned harshly; the way you called him made him even hornier. He pulled out and shifted down on his side, pulling your body snug against his chest, your back pressed against him. “Keep your legs up,” he whispered, holding his cock and directing it against your leaking hole.
You didn’t expect to be fucked by Jungkook sideways. He held your waist while driving his hard cock into you, your legs spread wide in the air as his lips nipped harshly at your neck.
“Feels so g-good, daddy.” you moaned, your body bouncing slightly from the force of the way he was fucking you.
Jungkook bit your neck, his hands moving down to rub your clit. “Uhuh, daddy’s gonna fill you with so much cum and you’re gonna hold it like a good girl.’’
You moaned, trying to bite your moans back, but Jungkook slapped your clit harshly. “Moan louder,” he groaned, his balls hitting your ass as he pushes his cock all the way out just to push it harder all the way in.
“J-Jungkook.” you moaned, eyes rolling back.
“Jungkook!” you moaned louder.
“Good girl,” he chuckled behind you, his fingers coming back down to rub your clit again.
You could feel your cum dripping down your thighs, the loud squelching sound of his cock fucking into your pussy and his deep groans pushing you to the edge. When he gave your clit a good rub, you came all over his cock, your pussy clenching around his girth, releasing so much cum. You held his wrist to stop him, your thighs shaking—you were certain you almost drooled from the deep pulses your cunt was producing.
Jungkook groaned behind you. You gasped weakly when he removed himself inside your twitching pussy, your cum leaking onto the mattress, but he immediately lowered his head to catch your cum, wasting no drop.
“I c-cant, too much!” you cried.
Jungkook held your thighs firmly, slurping all your juices like a starved man. When he raised his head, his chin and nose were wet from your arousal. Using both his index fingers, he opened your hood, exposing your puffy clit. He leaned down to suck it, and you gasped when you felt your cum and his warm saliva spreading.
“Oh daddy,” you moaned, another wave of pleasure rolling through your body.
He looked up at you, his tongue giving kitten licks on your clit. “Are you daddy’s good girl?” he murmured against it, his thumb circling the bud, the dual sensation making you lose your mind. “Do you like how daddy eats your pussy?”
“Yes daddy, it f-feels nice.”
“Nice?” Jungkook chuckled, sucking his thumb before rubbing his spit all over your clit. “Is this nice?” he mocked, looking at your bud as it looked so swollen and pink.
“Describe nice for me,” he growled before standing up, carrying you with him. Your thighs wrapped around his waist as he walked beside the large mirror. Using both of his hands, he held your ass and pushed his cock inside your used hole, using almost no strength to lift your body just to push you up and down around his hard cock.
You could see your reflection in the mirror—the way he used your body to pleasure himself, the way his biceps flexed every time he pushed and pulled you against him. He carried you like a feather, your body like a used, fucked-up sex doll.
“Is this… nice?” he mocked you, his lips parted as he looked at your pleasured face. He could feel your juices dripping down his muscular thighs. He chuckled at you. “Too dumb to answer, baby? Is my cock making you feel so good?”
You squealed, gripping his arms tightly as your body bounced up and down. He was going so fast, his hips snapping against you, pushing up while forcing you down, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.
“Gonna cum, baby. Would you hold my cum inside like what I taught you?” he panted, his thrusts getting sloppy, his eyes hazy.
Jungkook groaned, his hands gripping your ass hard, enough that it hurt. His cock drilled in so deep that you whimpered when he pulled your body close, forcing you down as he spilled all of his warm cum inside you. He groaned beside your ear, biting your neck through his intense orgasm, balls deep and snug against your ass. Your legs were shaking; you felt so full. You tried to move, but his grip was too strong. You could feel all of his cum filling your pussy, and it was so much that you could feel some of it dripping down your legs.
You thought he was done when he removed his cock inside you. Your legs wobbled as he quickly set you down on the bed, his hands palming your pussy as if to keep his cum inside you. Your eyes almost went out of their sockets when you saw that he was still hard.
“Raise your legs,” he rasped, gripping his cock from the base as he spread the cum that was left on his girth.
When you weakly raised your legs, he could see how much cum was inside your pussy, threatening to spill out.
“Touch yourself, push my cum deeper,” he said with serious eyes while staring at your hole.
Your eyes widened. “J-Jungkook, t-thats-”
‘’Come on baby, daddy’s waiting.”
You gulped harshly. He was slowly rubbing his swollen cock, teasing the tip while waiting for you to move. Your small hand slowly reached down to your hole, pushing his cum deeper, but some of it spilled onto the bed. You tried your best to push it in further, but your past orgasm was still overstimulating you.
“Like this, d-daddy?’’ you said shyly.
Jungkook groaned, staring at his cum in your tight hole. “Good job baby, can you add another finger for me?”
You added another finger. It was a lot easier to push his cum deeper, but your pussy was getting sensitive. You were whimpering—the fact that he was just staring at you while rubbing his mushroom tip made you chase another high you didn’t even realize was coming. The pad of your fingers brushing against your g-spot with his cum felt so good, forcing you into another mind-blowing orgasm. The fact that you came just from pushing his cum deeper felt so dirty.
“Oh my gosh, I-fuck..” you were convulsing. You removed your fingers, trying to close your thighs shut, but Jungkook held your legs. He quickly inserted his hard cock, you were still pulsating and the feeling of his cock replacing your fingers extended your orgasm, your wet pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock.
“Fuck you feel so good, Daddy didn’t stretch you enough huh? You’re still fucking tight.” he growled, his hips making a rolling motion as his fingers pinched your nipples harshly.
Your tongue was almost out, your pussy still quivering, your clit so sensitive that even the feeling of his pubic hair brushing against it felt incredibly intense.
“Gonna fuck that tight little pussy till your loose, so that everytime you touch yourself your fingers would be too small for your gaping hole.” he grunted, his hands holding both of your wrists above your head, his other hand gripping your throat. He was fucking you so hard that your body was bouncing up. He crouched down to lick your sweaty neck, then moved down to your underarm, licking your sweat messily. You tried to move your arms, but his hold was firm, licking your other underarm and creating a huge wet mess.
“I-I’m close,” you choked, chasing another orgasm, overwhelmed by how many times you had come—you were certain your pussy would be numb after this.
“Hold it, you slut.” he bit the swell of your breast causing you to scream.
He held your body up, then laid down on the bed while holding your waist, placing you on top of him.
Desperate for release, you positioned your body in front of him, but Jungkook stopped you.
“On your back, babygirl.” he tapped your thighs.
Your cheeks reddened as you positioned your body with your back facing him. When you sank down, you immediately moaned, your ass against his lower stomach. The stretch felt so good, the veins on his cock filling your spongey walls perfectly.
“That’s it, make daddy proud.” he groaned, holding your waist while you moved up and down on him. Your legs were aching, but you didn’t care. When you felt his right tattooed hand slapping your ass, you almost came.
“You look so pretty.” you heard him whisper, his hand caressing your ass, your brows furrowed when his hand went deeper. “Lower your body for me.”
Confused and a bit dazed, you lowered your body while still riding him. You shrieked loudly when his fingers played with your exposed rim, circling around the hole. You held his thighs, squeezing them hard when he tried to push his thumb in, the stretch making you shiver.
“Would you let me fuck you here, baby?’’ he whispered, pushing this thumb deeper, your tight walls swallowing him.
You haven’t done that before—you can’t even imagine it. He was the first man who touched you there. You were in so deep that you desperately nodded, clenching around his cock as the thought excited you.
He chuckled, “You’re so dirty baby, gonna let me fill all your holes hmm?”
You nodded again. “Yes, only for you J-Jungkook.”
“Yeah? you love me that much huh? I bet you hump your little cooky plushies thinking it’s my hard cock instead.”
He removed his thumb from your ass just to insert his middle and index finger, causing you to scream at the stretch. "Tell me baby, how many times have you masturbated huh?" Your movements slowed down from the sensation.
“Do you fantasize about me? Fantasize about your bias fucking your slutty holes?’’ he taunted, pushing his fingers deeper, his hips pushing up to meet your thrusts.
It was embarrassing; you didn’t answer, afraid to admit the dirty things you did every time you thought of Jungkook—afraid to admit how dirty you were behind your shy demeanor and innocent looks. You liked him so much, idolized him for years, dreamed about meeting him, dreamed about attending his concert, and in your most hidden fantasies… you dreamed about being his girlfriend, what it feels like to be loved by him, to be fucked by him.
“Hmm, baby? I bet you do,” he chuckled.
He removed his fingers, slapping your ass cheeks, then flipping you down onto the bed. “My dirty little girl, touching her little holes while thinking about her bias.”
You couldn’t maintain eye contact, your fingers fiddling with the sheets when he went down to grind his cock against your pussy, both of his arms beside your head.
“Aww baby, are you shy?” he cooed, pushing his cock inside you, trying to find the angle that hits your spot.
You pouted, your eyes a bit hesitant. He held your cheeks so you would look at him. “Don’t worry… daddy’s here, I’m gonna fuck you so good and make your dreams come true.”
He spit into your parted mouth, urging you to swallow before fucking mercilessly into your tight hole. He held your thighs, almost folding you in half. Your pussy was so stretched and swollen. He leaned down to whisper moans in your ear, his movements so fast you were impressed by his stamina at this point.
“Cum with me baby,” he panted, his thrusts getting sloppy, his mushroom tip hitting the right spot.
Jungkook forced you into another orgasm. You thought you wouldn’t cum, but your pussy was pulsating so badly, his cock still drilling inside you.
He let out a strained growl, his breathing turning heavier with each passing second. When you felt him cumming, he removed his cock from your pussy… quickly inserting it into your other unused hole.
You screamed loudly, the stretch sudden and painful… you could feel his cock pushing his cum deep inside your ass, the sensation making you shake and cry. When you tried to move, he held your waist tightly, balls snug so he could keep his warm cum inside.
He kissed your cheek, “So good for me, so pretty, so tight.” he whispered.
You thought he was done, but when he kissed you hard, his tongue dominating yours, you realized he wasn’t fully sated yet. He pulled you onto the nearest table, bending you over, your hands gripping it for support.
“Lift your leg here, baby,” he instructed, lifting your other leg so you were exposed to him.
The memories were hazy—you remembered him fucking you on the table while your cheeks burned red from the way he pushed you down. You could see the reflection in the mirror, your doll shoes still intact, the table wet from your drool. After that, he fucked your breasts, urging you to suck the tip like a good little whore.
Every time you thought he was done, he would pull you back again, whispering dirty praises about how you were such a good slut for him. His stamina was so impressive, and you were also impressed that you managed to stay awake the whole time.
Even when he was washing you up, he was very sweet, washing your hair and body, yet his fingers were still trailing down your swollen pussy. You protested, but he told you not to worry, saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna rub the pain away,” while rubbing your pussy in slow circles, causing you to release another orgasm in the shower.
Before you drifted off to sleep, you felt him spreading your legs, whispering. “Last one pretty girl, let me leave you a present when you wake up, yeah? All nice and wet in the morning.”
It felt almost unreal—like something pulled from a dream you weren’t fully ready to believe had happened.
When you woke up, Jungkook was no longer there.
Your body felt heavy, drained in a way that made even small movements difficult. You shifted under the covers, blinking slowly as reality started to settle in piece by piece.
The room was quiet. Still.
When you sat up, your gaze fell to your doll shoes placed neatly nearby.
You stared at them for a long moment, your chest tightening in a way you couldn’t quite explain. A quiet reminder that last night had not been a dream.
You weakly stood up, wearing a comfy oversized shirt you were certain was his. Walking over to the table, you noticed a set of breakfast meals laid out—eggs, waffles, bacon, fruits, and a pitcher of orange juice.
Still a bit dazed, you sat down on the couch and stared at the food in front of you, your mind struggling to catch up with reality. Last night still felt distant, almost unreal—like something your brain hadn’t fully accepted yet. But every time you shifted slightly and felt the marks on your skin, the memory returned sharply.
You knew the rules. You would never see him again, you would never contact him again, and anything that happened that night would stay with you—carried quietly, taken to your grave.
Your eyes grew teary, not because you regretted it, but because some part of you wished it didn’t end so quickly.
You knew better—that you and him were not in a fairytale. You wouldn’t be the special girl who eventually ends up with him. You weren’t inside some ridiculous fanfiction where he would text you afterward, telling you he missed you, that he wanted to see you again, that he might even love you. Pure fiction.
Looking at the food in front of you, your eyes caught a small folded paper tucked beside the plate.
When you opened it, you had expected something sweet—maybe a cute note, maybe his number. You already knew the number he used wasn’t personal anyway, just an exclusive one-night line tied to the NDA.
It was written quickly, but you recognized his handwriting immediately.
You looked around and spotted a paper bag beside the bed. You stood up at once, walking towards it, your hands already shaking before you even reached it.
Carefully, you opened it.
Inside was a pair of glittery doll shoes.
You searched for a note, but there was none.
You pouted slightly, your heart still skipping at the small gesture. It wasn’t much—but it was something. At least he had left something for you.
It had been months since that night, but you would never forget it.
You told no one—not Mina, not anyone, not even in passing. You were almost afraid that speaking it out loud would make it less real… or worse, make you forget it entirely, reducing it to something that only felt like a dream.
Over the months, something else slowly clicked into place.
While reviewing your notes one day, your eyes drifted absentmindedly to your tote bag. Only then did you notice the small cooky keychain attached to it.
It had to have been what his manager saw.
A quiet sense of relief settled in you then—knowing that despite changing bags since that day, you had never taken it off.
You also tried to think harder—why did he give you a pair of doll shoes? Does he do that with all his hookups? Does he give them a farewell gift too after sleeping with them?
The thought left a strange mix in your chest. A little sadness. A little jealousy you couldn’t quite justify.
And yet, the doll shoes still felt like a strong reminder that you were once his—like he gave you something so you wouldn’t forget him.
Sometimes you would even wonder if everything that happened was only your imagination. His manager’s contact number, Jungkook’s number—gone from your phone. The NDA had included a strict no-contact clause, and everything tied to that night had disappeared with it.
Afterward, you didn’t see them anymore, and you had no idea whether they had even stayed in the country or left immediately.
The moment the marks on your body began to fade, you almost cried—like something of him was slowly slipping away from you too.
Wearing the doll shoes he gave you, you sat in a nice outdoor coffee shop with your laptop and a hot latte.
It had been almost a year.
Despite the beautiful view around you, your attention was fixed on your screen. You were writing a paper—your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment longer than necessary, like they understood something you didn’t want to admit.
You had been careful. Writing the details with precaution.
You changed the places, the countries, the names. You rewrote reality until it no longer belonged to anyone but you. Until it couldn’t be traced back—not to him, not to that night, not to the NDA that should have never felt real in the first place.
You even made sure to hide it in plain sight.
Just enough to protect yourself.
Just enough to protect him.
Your foot tapped lightly beneath the table, uneven, restless. A habit you picked up a year ago. A habit you never lost.
And then you wrote it—the memory still too fresh to feel like a memory at all.
“Please, please, please!” you whispered to yourself, fingers crossed tightly as you stared at the three screens in front of you.
And for a brief second—you wondered if anyone would believe it was just fiction.
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