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jeonqkooks · 2 years

Text

strictly platonic | jjk

Sometimes, Jungkook can be a little selfish; and sometimes, the lengths you would go to for his happiness mean relinquishing your own.

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre: best friends to lovers, college au, fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut

warnings: jk is kinda annoying sometimes but he isn’t bad yk, jk being a dumb dumb and emotionally constipated, inexperienced reader, pining!, swearing, mention of inflation 😔, mention of alcohol consumption, half a second of toxic jealousy, denial of feelings, big dicc!jk obvi, kissing, making out, fingering, protected sex, dirty talk, breast play, riding, multiple orgasms, crying during seggsy time, stomach bulging

word count: 19.4k

playlist: daylight - taylor swift; from afar - vance joy

note: the closer i was to finishing this fic, the more anxious i became and as i’m writing this a/n, i’m a blubbering mess of nerves 🥴 this is a result of me being obsessed with college au’s and the classic bff2l trope, and she’s also the longest piece i’ve written!! idk i guess that’s it. oh and kudos to whoever can spot a tongue tied reference <3

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Over the years, you have accumulated a list of annoying things about Jeon Jungkook.

He’s very loud, and has absolutely zero subtlety. He’s competitive—perhaps to an alarming extent—and chews with his mouth open sometimes. He’s way too stubborn for his own good and would rather eat soap than admit he’s in the wrong. He’s childish and full of pride at the same time, which is always a combination for disaster.

He can be selfish though he doesn’t mean to; maybe it’s just a side effect of being an overgrown baby. He needs to cuddle when either of you sleeps over, or else he gets agitated and won’t stop whining until you slot yourself into his side.

Jungkook hogs the blanket. He forces you to go on 6AM runs with him. He thinks everything you own is also his by extension, but not vice versa. He constantly blasts music while you’re trying to study, and only turns it down a couple notches when you threaten to tell his mom about that time he was in middle school and broke one of her previous vases, but somehow managed to pin it on the dog.

Despite all that, Jungkook is very charming, effortlessly so. Ever since he had that growth spurt at 14, girls started flocking to his side and vying for his attention, and surprisingly, his previously quiet self morphed into someone more confident and outspoken.

Throughout high school and now halfway into university, Jungkook has become the person that guys wanted to be, and girls wanted to be with.

He looks as if Apollo had descended from the heavens and made himself home among mere mortals. With fluffy dark hair, sparkly Bambi eyes, a jawline that can cut glass, and a well-toned body underneath his oversized hoodies, he’s the textbook definition of “boyfriend material”. Wherever he goes, Jungkook just exudes that charisma that makes people stop and say, “Wow. That. I want that. Where do I get myself someone like that? Do they sell them on Amazon?”

He’s smart in that casual and infuriating way where he still manages to ace all his classes without ever really trying. All his professors adore him even though he’s almost always late to class and hands in his assignments at least a few days late without giving any kind of notice or excuse.

Jungkook seems like the total package—someone that mothers would love to call their son-in-law. (But, not everyone is privy to all his flaws like you are.)

And if all of that isn’t enough to knock the pants off of every wide-eyed college-aged girl, he’s a Fine Arts major who looks like he came straight out of a Pinterest moodboard, who wears a pair of those thin-rimmed glasses in class that always makes the TA just a little distracted. Who carries around a leather-bound journal wherever he goes like he’s a Shakespearean protagonist, just in case inspiration strikes and he needs a place for his sketches. It’s the journal that you saved up for three months to get him as a high school graduation gift, but also the very same one that everyone on campus daydreams about having a page dedicated to them in it.

(No one knows this other than a handful of his closest friends and family, but Jungkook doesn’t draw people, unless a school assignment requires him to do so. That’s his one rule when it comes to his creativity. He says it’s too easy, that the beauty of human beings is limited but more importantly, it’s fickle. Instead, he prefers to portray nature and inanimate objects, things that “remain eternal”, whatever the hell that means.)

There are, however, a couple of downsides to having godly looks and being the campus heartthrob.

You reckon this inconveniences you more than it does him. You can’t recall how many girls have come up to you for advice on how to approach him. Or how many love notes you’ve been asked to pass since ninth grade, only for him to skim and toss them.

(Jungkook doesn’t actually throw them away; he just never responds to any of them, thereby bestowing upon you the honor of watching smiles drop from eager lips when you regurgitate the same lines of “Sorry, he’s not looking to date right now” to his admirers.)

The attention gets to his head sometimes, but at least he’s never contracted the same asshole disease that guys get whenever someone throws a couple of looks their way.

You’re his messenger of heartbreak, as he once so annoyingly called it. It helps that he’s your best friend, and you make him treat you to a nice meal after each time. If it happens to be someone especially persistent who would constantly badger you unless you give them his phone number, he would throw in five extra coffees for all your troubles.

What doesn’t make it easier, though, is the fact that you’re also one of those lovestruck girls whose heart he breaks on a daily basis, but you’ll never let him in on that little secret.

You’ve known him nearly all your life, and you’ve been in love with him for half that time.

You should’ve gotten started on your philosophy paper ages ago, aka three weeks prior when your professor sent out reminders telling your class to do just that. But what have you been up to instead? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Well, you’ve been entertaining your clown of a best friend through all his shenanigans, but you always do that anyway.

Granted, the paper shouldn’t even be that long—5 pages maximum, no external sources needed beside the weekly class readings—but what’s important is the principle right? You need to start holding yourself to higher standards now that you’re starting an internship soon.

Nevertheless, you left your assignment until the very end again, and now the paper is due in two days. As you hunch over your laptop at your desk, trying to compare and contrast the differences between Plato and Aristotle, your main distraction rolls into the room like a tornado.

“Eunji broke up with me,” Jungkook declares loudly as he barges in, drops his backpack to the floor with a thud, and plops onto your bed. He doesn’t even need to check to know where you are; he just buries his face into a pillow and groans in frustration.

You’re not fazed by his sudden entrances anymore. He does this at least once a day, just storming into your place and making himself at home. To be fair, it’s probably your fault for giving him a key, but oh well, he gets best friend privileges you suppose.

“Congrats?” you say confusedly as you swivel your chair around to face him. “I thought you wanted to break up with her?”

He straightens his form as much as he can on your too small bed, and props himself on an elbow to look at you. “Did you not hear me?” he says with a frown. “She broke up with me. I got dumped!”

You roll your eyes but you entertain him with a scandalized gasp anyway. “How dare she! This is unacceptable!” Maybe it’s a little too much, because he’s glaring at you and proceeds to chuck a stuffed koala on the bed at your head.

“It’s not funny!” Jungkook groans again, louder and more dramatic this time as his limbs flail about like a petulant child. “I’m heartbroken. Get the stash.”

“The stash” is your drawer of fancy snacks reserved only for special occasions or emergencies.

He’s weaseled his way into The Stash more than you. Another annoying thing about Jungkook is that he steals your food.

“Stop being dramatic, and stop getting into my stash! Inflation is going up and you know how expensive those vinegar chips already are.”

It’s a losing battle; you know it every time you open your mouth to scold him.

When he sits up, crawls his way over to the edge of the bed, juts out his bottom lip and widens his eyes to stare at you like a Golden Retriever, you feel yourself melt a little at the sight. Sure, you’ve developed somewhat of a tolerance to it after him having pulled this trick on you countless times before, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to it.

You groan and go to fulfill his request, sullenly throwing him the bag of chips and a couple of candy bars. Jungkook punches the air triumphantly.

Anywho, he goes into detail about how he had envisioned the whole ordeal to go, what he was going to say to Eunji to soften the blow of the breakup because as much as he thought they were a bad fit together, he still wanted to be cordial and maybe even remain friends in the future.

That all went out the window when she suddenly stopped him before he could launch into a big speech though.

“She said she wanted to get back with her ex!” he recants exasperatedly, stuffing his face with the chips you bought with your hard-earned money. “Jinyoung or Junyoung or whatever the hell his name is. The one that looks like the flounder from The Little Mermaid and ran into the basketball pole that one time!”

“That’s mean.”

“It’s true, I saw it happen!”

You tear into a candy bar and take a bite. “So you got your ego bruised. Big whoop.”

“But it’s… It’s not something that happens to me often! Or ever!”

“You’re not the center of the universe. You sound like a douchebag.”

“Don’t.” Jungkook gives you a pointed look. “You know I’m not like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” you shrug indifferently, “but you sound like it.”

He grunts in response and goes back to his top priority mission of dropping crumbs all over your bed. You both munch on your respective treats in silence for a few moments. With your eyes trained on nothing in particular, you think about Plato’s ideal state and how much he believed humans were rational beings capable of establishing structured societies. Truth be told, that’s really all you got. You haven’t been doing a very good job at paying attention in this class.

The muscle bunny next to you clears his throat, breaking your train of (very limited) thoughts on Greek philosophers. He doesn’t meet your eyes, only keeps them fixed on the bag of chips in his hands.

“So, um,” he starts, fingers fiddling with the paper wrapping, “I might have said something to Eunji after she said she wanted to break up.”

“What?” You raise a questioning eyebrow. He hesitantly looks at you and you gasp. “Jungkook! Did you slutshame her?”

“The fuck– No! Why would I do that?!”

“Then what did you do?”

“I told her…” he stammers before dropping the bag in his lap and raising his hands up in surrender. “Wait, you have to promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Jungkook,” you warn, narrowing your eyes at him, cautious of what he has to say. “What did you do?”

“You have to promise me first.”

“Just freaking tell me, you dipshit.”

“If you won’t promise me–”

“Ugh, fine! I promise! Now what the fuck you say to do Eunji?”

Jungkook threads his fingers together and stares at you like he’s an anchorman about to give you the latest news of the day. “I told her I wanted to break up because you and I want to date.”

Alarms ring and sirens blare. Your heart stutters foolishly in your chest. Bits of chocolate get lodged in your throat.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck!” you screech in disbelief. “Jeon Jungkook!” Grabbing the nearest pillow, you whack him directly in the face. The man tumbles off your bed with a high-pitched squeal, taking the half-eaten bag of chips along with him. Golden crisps fly everywhere.

“Ow! What the fuck? You promised!”

“What the fuck do you mean “What the fuck?” Jungkook! Why would you say that?!”

The man rubs the spot on his ass where he landed on, and glares at you with those stupid eyes of his.

“I couldn’t think of anything else!”

“Oh, you dipshit.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale in frustration. “Why didn’t you tell her what you were supposed to in the first place?”

“What, that I thought we weren’t compatible? Yeah, right. The girl had just told me she wanted to be with another dude. Anything I said afterward that didn’t involve me dating someone else would sound like I only wanted to save face.”

“You do only want to save face,” you deadpan. Why does he have the mindset of a 12-year-old girl?

“Well she doesn’t need to know that,” he shrugs, picking a chip off the floor and throwing it in his mouth. Ugh, gross. “Anyway, the damage is done. Sue me.”

“Oh my God,” you groan in absolute vexation. “How do you manage to get more stupid by the day? Okay, fine. Now you’re just gonna be even more embarrassed when she finds out that you lied, because you and I are not dating.”

Jungkook rubs his imaginary beard for a few seconds, still sitting among the chaos of sliced potatoes and humming as if in thought. “I’ll figure something out.”

You chuck your almost-finished candy bar at him, which he catches and eats the last piece. “God, whatever. It’s your problem. Now clean this up.” You gesture to the mess in the room.

“You made me fall.”

“I don’t care. Clean it up!”

“...Yes ma’am.”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“What? And stop saying my full name.”

“Well, then stop telling me to kiss you.”

“Why not? It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Jungkook!” you shove him in the shoulder. “We were in the second grade!”

“So? Still counts. I tell everyone you were my first kiss.”

Your frown falters to make room for surprise. That’s… new.

You were in primary school; obviously he was your first kiss too. You don’t go around telling people that though.

“Why don’t you just… I don’t know, find someone new to date? It’s not like there’s a short supply of people who would be willing to do that,” you deflect.

Jungkook has been bothering you all morning with this absurd idea. Your paper is due in six hours and he keeps moping around your room, begging for your help in his dumbass plan.

(The plan in question—which he claims to have been birthed from his big wrinkly brain and bathed in brilliance—is to convince Eunji that you two really are in a budding romance.

The first step of this scheme of his? Post a picture of you kissing.

Every other step after that? Pretend to be lovesick puppies every time you’re seen in public together. Which may also involve locking lips for people to see.)

“But I told her that there’s something going on between us!” He gestures to the both of you. “You and me! Specifically!”

“Sure, let’s assume that’s a valid argument–”

“Which it is.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Shut up. Hypothetically, I get why you’d think this could work. But why do we have to… kiss? Why can’t we just hold hands or cuddle or something?”

“Okay genius.” Jungkook pokes a finger at your temple. “We’re not exactly lowkey with the PDA. Everybody knows we do all of that. No one is going to believe it! The only things we haven’t done are kiss and fuck. Unless you want to make a sex ta–”

You wave your hands in the air to stop him from finishing that sentence as your cheeks heat up. He’s right; you’re just fishing for excuses at this point. It’s true that you two are quite affectionate with each other, even in public. You do everything that a couple does minus the, well, kissing and fucking—except whenever he has a girlfriend of course. You can’t count how many people have mistaken your friendship for something because from the outside, it does look that way, doesn’t it? You don’t like to dwell on this fact, but you can’t deny it either.

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up. Fine, why do you even have to post it online? Everyone on campus, and I mean everyone, would see it.”

“Well, duh.” It’s his turn to roll his eyes now. This motherfucker sure has a lot of attitude for someone who needs a favor. “I can’t exactly slide into Eunji’s DMs and randomly hit her up with a photo of us sucking faces.”

“We’re not sucking faces. Jesus– Okay, would the group know? How do you even expect to convince everybody else? You’re literally asking me to be your–” you swallow before continuing, “fake girlfriend.”

“The group” being all of your close friends. You have an odd pack of them, to be honest.

Taehyung is probably Jungkook’s second best friend only after you, what with being in the same major and having the same gaming interests. It’s uncanny how similar they are sometimes; it’s like two peas in a pod. Two peas that pass one brain cell back and forth in a game of mental dodgeball.

Namjoon is a senior whom you met while trying to sell an old bookshelf through Facebook Marketplace. You thought he was a creep at first; he had no profile picture and the only post on his timeline was from seven years prior, and it was a photo of a tree in black and white. When you arranged a meetup with him to exchange the goods, you made Jungkook go with you in case Namjoon was a kidnapper and/or murderer. Of course, that didn’t turn out to be true at all, and he’s been like an older brother to both you and Jungkook ever since.

Yerin is Namjoon’s ex, and it’s a wonder how they can be in the same tight-knit circle considering their history. But they always reassure everyone that the breakup was amicable and cordial, that there was no love lost between friends. Another fun tidbit is that they started out as roommates, and they still live in the same apartment to this day. Go figure.

It’s not surprising that they’re the most level headed out of all of you; you often joke that they’re like divorced parents to you, Jungkook and Taehyung.

Yerin might be the closest person you have to a role model. She’s calm and collected, but she never takes shit from anyone. You’re the only two girls, so that’s another reason why you’re naturally drawn to her. That, and the fact that she’s the one of the only two people who know about your little secret concerning a certain Bambi-eyed boy. (You like to think that you’re a good actress when it comes to pretending you only see Jungkook as a friend, but Yerin—and by extension Namjoon as well—is just ultra observant.)

And Yoongi… you don’t know why he’s even in the group, or how you all became friends with him in the first place. He graduated last year and is working part-time at the university as a TA while he figures out what he actually wants for a career. You reckon it might be a little late to start doing that, but oh well, everyone’s got their own process. (Come to think of it, you vaguely recall Jungkook adopting him into the group after he found the older man eating cheese sticks alone near a trashcan on campus and thought he was exuding “sad old man energy”.)

Jungkook gives you a devilish grin, and you already regret hearing what he has to say before he’s even uttered it. “Don’t you worry, sweet child. I have it all planned out.”

“Instead of working on your portfolio? Great use of your time by the way.”

“Zip it. Don’t distract me,” he chides and pats the top of your head. “We’ll spill after the photo goes up. Taehyung will definitely yell in the comments about how I didn’t tell him so at least that’ll look believable.”

It’s not like you’re entirely opposed to this idea. Sometimes when you’re cuddled up together in bed, watching a stupid movie of his choosing, you wonder what it’d be like to feel his lips on yours. Would they be as soft as they look? What kind of kisser is he? Is he the type to dive right in from the get-go—all hard and heated—or is he the type to start slow, ease you into it and douse your lips in warmth and honey before finally prying your mouth open with his tongue?

Every time you think about kissing Jungkook, it stings a little right where your heart is. Every time you think about anyone else kissing Jungkook, it hurts even more.

You want to kiss him, God knows you do; you just hope that if there was ever a day where he wanted to kiss you too, it’d be sincere and real.

Not just for show because he can’t stand to lose to his ex-girlfriend in a game where he’s the only player.

“Jungkook,” you sigh. You really don’t want to talk about this anymore. “I’m your friend, your best friend. Don’t you think it’d be weird if we kissed?” You take a breath before continuing. “I know it’s just pretend, but still.”

Even if you didn’t have feelings for him, it would be weird as hell. You don’t know anyone who has tested the waters of friendship and kissed, on the mouth, regardless of the circumstances, and lived to tell the tale. It always implodes.

Actually, maybe that’s not entirely true. People are a lot more open-minded now, and mere kisses don’t mean as much as they used to. But to you, they still do. Especially a kiss with Jungkook. Especially when you’re in love with him.

“It won’t be weird. My cousin makes out with his neighbor all the time and they’re still friends,” he shrugs.

“They what– How is that remotely related to this? They’re not best friends.”

“Exactly! We’re best friends. We’re too close for anything to come between us. I mean, you’ve seen me naked before.”

“Dipshit, you were changing and left your door wide open!”

He only shrugs again. The nerve on this clown. It’s true what they say, isn’t it? All men have is the audacity.

You punch him in the arm and trudge over to your bed, plopping onto it with an exasperated groan. Every minute that passes by is a minute that you should be reading about Greek philosophers, not arguing with your friend about his godforsaken brain babies.

The bed dips beside you, and something shifts in the air. Jungkook tugs on your hand and pouts, whipping out the puppy dog eyes again. You turn away from him and face the wall.

If you give in to this, you’re not sure if you’d be able to act normal around him again. Not after having had a taste of what it’s like to kiss him. To be with him, to be loved by him in that way.

You don’t know what you’d do if your friendship suffers the consequences of this reckless decision. He’s one of the most important people in your life—your less-than-platonic feelings for him notwithstanding. You grew up together, you’re each other’s rock and strongest support system, you know one another better than you know yourselves.

He’s your chosen family, and the bond that you two have is the most special you’ll ever know. He’s the only one you want to comfort you when you’re feeling low, and the only one you come running to to share your happiness. He’s your person, and you know you’re his person too.

His. In more ways than one.

“Hey.” You feel his arm wrap around you and pull you toward his body, your back pressed against his chest. “Sorry for being annoying about this,” he says more softly now, and for a second you think he’s about to nix the topic completely, seeing your reluctance to participate. But then he continues and you remember that he’s still your good old stubborn Jungkook.

“I promise it’ll be fine. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s not like we have feelings for each other, right? We’ll know that it’s not real.”

You’ve lost all mental capacity to ponder about Aristotle at this point. You remain silent, too lost in your head about this whole fake kissing fiasco. While all of these thoughts and scenarios are running through your mind, your best friend is completely oblivious. He’s only thinking about how to one-up another girl.

When you take too long to respond, he shuffles nervously on the bed. “You’ll do it, right? We’re good?” he asks. “Because I have to head to a class right now…”

No. The simple word sits on the tip of your tongue, caged in by your teeth. If only you could open your mouth and hurl it at his head.

No. You use it every day with ease. You say it politely preceding a Thank you when the cashier at the convenience store asks if you’d like to buy a chocolate chip cookie to accompany your best friend’s banana milk. You say it with slight annoyance in your voice when your mom asks if you have a boyfriend yet. You say it casually and teasingly when Yoongi asks if he could have one of your friends’ phone number.

So why can’t you say it to Jungkook now? Every fiber of your being is resisting his plan, but the motor cortex in your frontal lobe just won’t let you verbalize it. When you really think about it, have you ever not gone along with his shenanigans, however stupid they may be? Sure, this one may take the cake as the most hare-brained conspiracy he’s come up with, but the person asking for your help is still him.

You heave a sigh and squeeze your eyes close. “Shut the fuck up and go to class, Jungkook. I have a paper to finish.”

The man leans closer to you warily until his lips are right next to your ear, thinking it’s a good sign that you haven’t shut down his idea.

“Fine. I’m going now,” he whispers. “Love you, bye bye.”

Thirty seconds pass and his face is still hovering over your head. You know what he wants. You say it so he’ll finally leave you alone, all the while wishing that there isn’t an alternative meaning behind your words.

“Love you too…”

He grins and presses a quick kiss to your temple. “See ya later!” he calls as he dashes out the door.

Sometimes, Jungkook can be selfish; and sometimes, the lengths you go to for his happiness mean relinquishing your own.

Fortunately, you managed to finish that dreadful paper ten minutes before the deadline. Unfortunately, that was the last thing on your to-do list of high priority tasks, and you had no other excuse to avoid being roped into Jungkook’s scheme.

There is one thing that might deter him, though. You could tell Yerin about this whole thing and she and Namjoon would be more than willing to shut it down for you before anything happens.

You could, but you don’t.

Honestly, the logic of the plan seems flawed, but that’s not something that you’re too focused on in all of this.

Oh, those two are going to have a field day picking apart your brain, aren’t they?

You’re sitting next to Jungkook on your bed, nervously toying with the loose threads of your shirt as he prepares to enact the first phase of his plan. He’s even gone as far as to dub your room “campaign headquarters”.

“Your dozens of admirers are gonna hate me,” you tell him. “They’ll say I sabotaged them to get you all to myself.”

He tilts his head to look at you. “But you don’t usually care about stuff they say.”

“I don’t,” you agree, sighing. “Okay, what if I want to get a boyfriend?”

“Do you?”

“No, but what if I change my mind–”

“You’re stalling,” he says. “I know I’ve been bugging you but you don’t have to do this if you aren’t 100% on board.”

“I know. I just…”

You just what? How do you tell him that once you do this, it’ll just make it infinitely more difficult to pretend you’re not in love with him?

Jungkook takes your hand in his and squeezes gently as the atmosphere turns more serious. “It’s me,” he tries to soothe you, even if he doesn’t know exactly what for. “It’s just me.”

You take a breath before you can look at him. When your eyes lock, he just smiles, and you can’t believe that you’re about to kiss that smile.

“Okay, so what do we do?”

“Just be normal. You’ve kissed other people before. If it makes things easier, pretend I’m Eunwoo.”

Your mind is too troubled to notice how his jaw slightly tenses as the words leave his mouth.

“Yeah,” you exhale, “okay.”

You had a thing with Cha Eunwoo last year. He was nice, very handsome, and he asked you out after you did a group project together for class. He was always the perfect gentleman, and he genuinely seemed to care about you. If things were different, you think you might’ve actually wanted to pursue a serious relationship with him.

But after three months, Eunwoo broke things off though you couldn’t say that you didn’t see it coming. He was about to go on exchange for six months abroad, but that’s not why the relationship fell apart. He was willing to do long distance with you, but he said he felt like you were always putting him second after Jungkook, and he didn’t think that would change any time soon. If your best friend was first priority while he was still there, what would it be like when he was gone?

Well, maybe Namjoon and Yerin aren’t the only people who are privy to your little secret. You reckon Eunwoo must have known about it too, because the last thing he said to you was “Call me when you figure it out.” You never did though.

You didn’t tell Jungkook this; you only said that the pair of you just didn’t think long distance would work, but you’d always have a soft spot for Eunwoo.

Jungkook starts the timer on his camera and turns to you. Ten seconds, you can do this. Think of Eunwoo’s gorgeous eyes and that pretty smile. Just pretend he’s Eunwoo. Pretend he’s Eunwoo…

You close your eyes as he leans in. Eunwoo’s face pops up in your head.

Ready. Set. Action.

Your lips touch, and as quickly as Eunwoo appeared in your mind, he vanished just as fast. Something within you shatters but you ignore it for now; you can always open that door later. Right now, there’s only Jungkook—simultaneously in the center of your mind, at the forefront, lingering in the back…

Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook…

With his lips pressed against yours, he waits for the sound of the camera going off before pulling away from you, but he doesn’t stray too far.

A second isn't nearly enough to answer all your questions about what it’d be like to kiss him, but at least you’ve been allowed a glimpse into it now.

It happened in a flash but it felt like an eternity. In that split second, the fantasies in your head came true and fizzled out all at once. In that fleeting moment, you could pretend that he was yours, in every sense of the word. You could pretend that it was only one out of countless kisses you two would share. You could pretend that there wasn’t any line to tiptoe or any word that you had to keep unsaid.

If only briefly, you could pretend that Jungkook loved you, in the way that you’ve always wanted him to.

A lifetime within a second, and you’re oh so tempted to never leave that illusion.

He tilts his head and grins like he just won you a stuffed animal at the carnival. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Your faces are still way too close for comfort. You don’t even think you’ve been breathing. It feels like an airbag was deployed within your chest when your heart crashed so suddenly against your ribcage, but you soldier on.

Clearing your throat, you punch him in the arm. “You better hope you didn’t give me any disease.”

He scoffs playfully and turns away to grab the phone. He examines the photo and when he deems it good enough to post, a tiny twisted part deep in your psyche wants to object, to find any reason to dismiss the picture he took just to have a reason to do it again.

You watch him type in a cheesy caption, ‘Been a long time coming,’ along with your username and a purple heart tacked on at the end, and send it out for the whole world to see.

There’s really no going back now.

Jungkook was right though; Taehyung is one of the first people to comment on the post.

vantae: BRO FOR REAL?? NO WAY WTFFFFF

jaykay97: @vantae 😉

He turns to you when his other college friends start to come through with their own comments expressing surprise or congratulations. He gives you a grin, one that’s blinding and makes his eyes crinkle.

“I’ll refill The Stash for you.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes at Jungkook. “What do you mean it’s not real? Your tongue was in her mouth.”

“His tongue was not in my mouth, oh my God.” You reach across the table and smack him over the head, knocking off the glasses perched on his nose in the process. “The photo is… real. But we’re not dating.”

Jungkook silently nods in agreement beside you as Taehyung sends you a glare.

“Why are you two doing this again?” Yerin speaks up from his place next to Namjoon. Her stare burns into the side of your face so intensely that you can’t meet her eyes. You know she’ll drag you somewhere to talk later.

You turn to your best friend and nudge his shoulder; he sighs and gives the gang a full recap of what happened—mainly his initial stupidity that led you both to this.

Okay, so maybe it’s not that long of a story. He takes about two minutes to fill them in on everything and by the time he’s finished, everyone stays mostly quiet. You don’t know how you expected them to react, but this isn’t it. It’s like they’re privy to a secret that you weren’t let in on.

“And here I thought it only happens in the movies, right?” you half-heartedly joke.

Namjoon and Yerin seem to share the same sentiments. They look at each other for a few seconds, silently communicating in that way that they do. It’s annoying sometimes, but right now it just makes you feel uneasy.

Maybe being silent isn’t an odd response for Yoongi; he’s like that most of the time anyway. Still, it adds to your nervousness.

Meanwhile, Taehyung is evidently disappointed. “You couldn’t have said Somi instead? That girl has a fat ass crush on you and she’s hot as fuck.” Classic Kim Taehyung.

“Shut up, Tae,” Jungkook rolls his eyes and flips off the other art student. “I’m not into Somi, and I said I couldn’t think of another excuse, didn’t I?”

He sounds strangely irritated. Perhaps it’s due to all the attention in the room being directed at him (and you, but mostly him) for a reason that he doesn’t particularly enjoy. Like someone has laid egg shells all over the floor, your friends are having a hard time approaching the issue with Jungkook.

Namjoon is the first to offer some serious talk. “Kook,” he says, still searching for the right words, “have you really thought this through?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is this really the best idea?” Then Namjoon’s eyes flicker to you for a split second and you gulp. “I mean, have you thought about the consequences it might have?”

There’s a slight scowl on Jungkook’s face when he answers. “Consequences? The hell are you talking about?”

“I’m only trying to–”

“Hyung, can you just get off my back?” he snaps. “It’s my business, okay?”

It’s the first time he’s ever raised his voice at Namjoon, or at any of you, really.

The older man retreats instantly, not pushing to talk to someone who’s clearly not interested in listening.

A moment of silence ensues, but it doesn’t last long before Taehyung diffuses the tension with a change of topic, prompting a conversation about some gossip he heard about a frat house on campus. Even Yoongi joins in as an attempt to make the air feel lighter. Everyone soon drifts away from your situation with Jungkook, but he doesn’t contribute anything to the chatter after his little outburst.

He doesn’t like it when people question his decisions and judgment, but he’s never been unreasonably closed off to it. Not that he’s being unreasonable now, but it toes that line a little. Maybe he’s just in a bad mood today.

Eventually, Jungkook slips away to the balcony to get some air. You follow him out after some minutes.

“So…” you start, hoping he’ll at least talk to you. You bump your hip against his.

“What? Are you here to lecture me too?”

It’s cool outside tonight. You’re grateful for the late summer chill for providing you with some much needed fresh air. From here, you can see cars passing on the streets. Someone is out walking their dogs. A few more people are strolling about with their arms full of liquor bottles. Right in front of the building, there’s a middle-aged man with a small food truck. The smell of tokbokki wafts all the way up to you on the fourth floor, and it makes you a little hungry.

“You know Namjoon didn’t mean anything bad,” you sigh.

“Yeah.” Jungkook looks down at the ground and kicks at a fallen leaf from a plant. “But did he have to talk to me like I’m a child? Like I don’t know any better?”

“Don’t be too hard on him.” Your hand comes up to rub his back soothingly. “He’s just worried.”

“Why?” he asks. “Is there something he should be worried about?”

There’s a moment where you two just look at each other. The air thickens in a way that you don’t like despite the breeze that passes by. Stars in the sky mimic the ones in his eyes, and you feel an urge to get lost in the sparkling orbs staring back at you. It’s almost maddening what you would do to get them to keep twinkling for you forever.

There’s something unfamiliar in his expression, with his lips slightly pursed and a small furrow in his brows. You dislike it even more than the tension in the atmosphere; you’ve always been able to read him like he’s your favorite book.

You break away from his eyes with a clear of your throat. “I don’t know. I’m just saying that it’s not hard to understand where he’s coming from.”

Jungkook opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but then he just settles for a hum as he turns to look at the streets again. The conversation dies at that, and you slip away again.

It’s been weird tonight, from your friends’ reactions to the way Jungkook is acting while he’s supposed to be the “mastermind” in all of this. You’ve been trying to be as normal as you can around him to not jeopardize everything you two have, and you can’t help but be a little irked at his behavior right now.

When you go back inside, Yerin pulls you to the kitchen for some privacy.

“That was some interesting news tonight,” she says, sipping on her bottle of cider as she eyes you.

You swallow and nod slowly. You’ve been expecting a Yerin talk.

“What’s your game plan here?” she asks when you don’t say anything else.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, feigning nonchalance though you know you don’t have to in front of her. “There’s no game plan. I’m just going along with what he wants.”

She frowns and sets the bottle on the white marble counter. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“You always “going along” with what he wants. Always putting him before yourself. You can’t keep doing this forever.”

Like Namjoon, Yerin is just worried. You get that, and you would be the same way if you were in her shoes.

“It’s not that simple.” Oh, but it is. “He’s my best friend.”

And there’s that excuse again. You can’t count how many times you’ve taken advantage of this title to justify your actions, your willingness to do anything for Jungkook under the guise of only being his best friend and not because you would trade the sun for his happiness for a reason far beyond that. Sometimes you think it’s pathetic.

“You could’ve told him no. He’d never force you into anything,” she says, but then her voice softens as she continues, her eyes sympathetic when they meet yours. “Are you hoping something would come out of this?”

There it is. The one question you wished she wouldn’t ask.

You avoid her gaze, preferring to train your eyes on the tiny droplets that collect outside the cider bottle instead. They roll down the side of the plastic when the moisture gets too heavy, and make a tiny pool where the bottle connects with the counter.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” you settle for eventually.

“What am I gonna say?” Yerin inquires.

“That I’m stupid, and reckless.”

“Not stupid,” she counters with a shake of her head, “but yes, I think you’re being reckless.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say with shaky finality. The words sound resolute, but underneath that shell, they’re mangled. As much as you want to believe them, you know deep down that you don’t.

Over the next weeks, it happens again a few times. It being the kiss. A few times being five, because you’ve definitely been keeping track. Although they have technically been more like pecks than kisses, each one lasting approximately 1.2 second.

Holding hands on campus, resting your head on his shoulders when you’re sitting beside him under the old tree near one of the old university buildings—things that you’ve always been doing, but now accentuated with a smooch on the lips here and there.

Yeah, people seem to buy it.

People including Eunji.

Truth be told, you don’t think they care that much. (Perhaps with the exclusion of Jungkook’s not-so-secret admirers who glare at you every time you walk by.) You suppose that like with any other new couple on campus, after that initial Oh, cool reaction, there’s not really much thought to be had afterward. You’ve tried voicing your observation to Jungkook, but he’s adamant that this is “the way to go”, which is vague and cryptic and how he is sometimes.

You’re not sure what it means, but as always—and cue a big sigh—you go along with it. You handle it… decently. Like with everything else Jungkook does that has an effect on you, you’ve tried to build a tolerance to the occasional peck.

Every time he kisses you, you act like it’s the first time. He gives you a warning before he does it so you aren’t startled. Nevertheless, you’ve developed somewhat of a routine before each kiss so you don’t completely freak out and collapse afterward. It goes like this: Clench your jaw, inhale deeply, peck!, exhale.

Your heart constantly complains, and you more or less successfully ignore it.

Yerin and Namjoon, being Yerin and Namjoon, try to talk you out of it before someone gets hurt. You, being you—aka pathetically in love with your best friend, don’t listen.

That, and the fact that having the title of being his (fake) girlfriend makes you feel a certain way.

Maybe you can’t shit on him for being stubborn when sometimes you’re just as headstrong.

That’s why you’re at this party with the rest of the group (sans Yerin, because she doesn’t do frat parties) at one of the frat houses, holding Jungkook’s hand. The beer you’re sipping helps quell the butterflies in your stomach when he mindlessly rubs your thumb.

Suddenly, he tips his head somewhere to the right, where you see Eunji leaning against someone you assume to be the ex she recently got back together with. Jungkook quirks a brow and blinks fast at you.

“Are you having a stroke?”

He rolls his eyes and puckers his lips slightly before leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Eunji is here. With the flounder! So you know….”

Your jaw tenses and you take a deep breath, not even questioning him if this is necessary anymore. Your eyelids fall as he surges forward, but to your surprise, you don’t get to exhale as quickly as you normally would.

The count remains at five. Five pecks that last a total of one second.

But there’s a new count that pops up on the chart.

Number of pecks that last a total of three seconds: 1.

When Jungkook pulls away, you swallow dryly and finally breathe out. Namjoon clears his throat awkwardly, having watched the whole exchange.

Your best friend doesn’t speak; instead he just stares at you. He doesn’t look to see if Eunji or anyone else is watching, like he usually does. He just looks at you.

You’re hyper aware of how loud the music is and how his lips overwhelm the taste of alcohol in your mouth. How he’s still rubbing your thumb.

“I’m just gonna get another drink,” you croak the words out, and you disappear into the crowd before Jungkook can say anything.

The kitchen is just as packed as the living room, but you needed to get away for a while. The countertops here are sticky with spilled alcohol and reeks of drunken bodies.

You turn around when a hand taps your shoulder, and almost choke when you see who it is that’s offering you a hug.

“Oh, Nayoung, hi!” you chirp awkwardly as you accept her embrace. It’s less than graceful, but then again, you two have never really been the best of friends, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying.

She was Jungkook’s last serious relationship before Eunji; they were together for about nine months before calling it quits. Out of everyone he has dated, you liked her the most. She has a bubbly personality, practically the embodiment of pure sunshine, and not to mention she’s one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen.

Come to think of it, you don’t think you know why she and Jungkook split in the first place. He’s told you before that they still talk occasionally—the pair didn’t end on bad terms—but that’s about it, no details whatsoever.

After the initial chit chat about what she’s been up to, what you’ve been up to, and the conventional commentary on the state of the party, Nayoung goes right into what you hoped she wouldn’t.

“I heard you’re dating Kook now,” she says after taking a sip of beer.

You fiddle with the cup in your hand and smile sheepishly at her. “Yeah, it just sort of happened…”

“I’m really happy for you.” A smile blooms on her lips, and you can tell that it’s genuine. “I’m glad he finally stepped up.”

The liquid in your cup sloshes slightly as you tighten your grip on the plastic. You stare at Nayoung, and you’re about to ask her what she means by that when someone spots her and calls her name loudly.

“Soyeon!” she squeals back at the other girl before turning to you. “I have to go say hi to her. But it was nice running into you. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

With that, she leaves, and you’re left standing in the kitchen with a bunch of people you don’t know and cheap beer you don’t like. Nonetheless, you pour more of the alcohol into your cup, stuff your mouth with a couple of potato chips and head back to find your friends.

Namjoon, Taehyung and Jungkook are nowhere in sight, but you spy Yoongi standing in the corner with a drink of his own, looking bored as usual and watching the drunks near him wobble until they collapse onto the couch.

You open your mouth to ask him where the others are, but you hear their voices before the question can come out. You peek over Yoongi’s shoulders to scan for them, and find Namjoon and Jungkook standing a few feet from where you are, with the latter wearing an annoyed expression on his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you? We're best friends. The best of besties,” Jungkook says, his tone more defensive than Namjoon thinks it should be. “I don’t even see her as a girl.”

Your feet cement themselves to the floor as you stand there, holding the red plastic in your hand and trying to keep a neutral expression on your face. Yoongi looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. He just offers you a sympathetic smile and you wonder if he knows.

You’ve been more distant since the night of the party, and Jungkook is willing to admit that it affects him in ways he doesn’t like. There’s something different about your dynamic that he senses, and he resents the fact that it doesn’t feel the same as it used to.

The cafe that he normally frequents is quieter than usual for a Saturday afternoon, and it does very little to distract him from the disturbance that’s afflicting his mind. Besides him and Taehyung sitting in their regular booth with their sketchbooks in front of them, there’s barely five other patrons in the coffee shop.

Every so often, Jungkook huffs and puffs, and it’s starting to annoy his friend.

“Okay, what’s up with you today, dude?”

“What?” Jungkook glances up from his journal and pushes his glasses further up his nose bridge. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Taehyung comments, sipping from his coffee and looking at the other man over the rim of the glass. “Is it about Y/N?”

“Why would it be about her?”

“I don’t know. You seem pretty… distracted lately. Trouble in fake paradise?”

Lead skids on paper and Jungkook’s movements come to a stop. His gargantuan eyes blink at Taehyung, who only shrugs and stares back.

“Why do you and Namjoon hyung keep nagging me about this?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung repeats, and irritation begins to crawl up Jungkook’s spine. “If I were you and I had a best friend whom I kiss all the time, I don’t think I’d be able to keep things strictly platonic, you know?”

What is he trying to get at here? Jungkook was planning to come over to your dorm tonight for a one-on-one hangout, but now, he’s just gonna be in his head about what his friend is saying.

“Not all the time. Sometimes,” the younger man corrects. “And it’s not that big a deal. Just leave it alone.”

“I mean–”

“Taehyung.”

If another person were to insinuate something along these lines to him, he might actually get into a fight. Taehyung and Namjoon aren’t the first ones to do it, and frankly, Jungkook is getting tired of it.

People keep implying that there’s something going on between you and him when in reality, you’re his best friend and that’s it. But everyone just goes on wanting to uproot his entire life by trying to unravel his relationship with you.

You two have been this way since forever. It’s not that deep.

Jungkook sits in silence across from Taehyung for a long while after that, each of them working on their respective drawings while the cafe continues to be mostly empty.

He doesn’t notice when Taehyung stands up and makes his way to the other side of the booth to peek at his sketchbook. He’s just been mindlessly moving his pencil for the past hour; he does that sometimes, where he just lets his brain go rampant and his fingers glide through the paper seamlessly. Most of these times, he doesn’t have a specific vision in mind, and they often turn out to be some of the best works he’s ever drawn.

“Dude,” Taehyung almost gasps as he leans over the younger’s shoulders. It’s almost comical, really, how his mouth hangs open and his eyes widen.

Jungkook’s fingers halt, his eyes refocusing and taking in what his friend is looking at.

He gulps but his throat is dry, hastily closing the journal and stuffing it in his backpack. The chair scrapes loudly against the cafe’s wooden floors when he abruptly stands up, turning a couple of heads nearby. Taehyung calls after him but he’s already walking away, unable to stifle the restless feeling that gnaws on his guts.

Knock, knock, knock.

Hmm? You aren’t expecting anyone, are you?

When you open the door, the person standing on the other side of the threshold makes your heart leap to your throat.

He… knocks now?

“Koo,” you breathe, clearly surprised to see him. Or maybe you’re surprised at his unexpectedly good manner.

“‘Sup, dude?” He brushes past you into the room in that typical Jungkook fashion. “We haven’t hung out in forever.”

He’s carrying two paper bags that he holds up for you to see. When you lean closer to inspect them, it’s all of your favorites from the diner nearby. The scent emanating from the bags immediately makes your stomach growl.

“The last time you saw me was two days ago,” you say.

“Yeah, on campus. We haven’t properly hung out in weeks.”

“You’re so clingy, and needy.”

“I know you meant full offense when you said that, but none taken.” After setting up the food neatly on the floor, Jungkook goes to wash his hands in the bathroom. When he returns, he looks you straight in the eye. There’s that expression again, the one he wore on the balcony of Namjoon and Yerin’s apartment. “I’m only clingy with you.”

You wonder if he notices that you’ve been pulling away these past few days, though you can’t say that you’ve been distant. You just haven’t seen him everyday like you used to, and you’ve chalked it up to an overload of schoolwork which isn’t untrue.

As you begin to dig into the food he brought over, you can tell that he’s trying. To do what exactly, you don’t know, but you appreciate the effort anyhow. It’s not his fault that things feel weird between you.

Once everything has been devoured and your bellies are stuffed, you do what you always do. He brings your laptop from the desk and plops onto the bed next to you. By this point, you’re no longer surprised nor annoyed when he puts on a Spiderman movie for the umpteenth time. The film starts, and the familiar superhero in red and blue takes over your entire screen. But there’s something different now.

You’ve been sharing a bed with Jungkook since middle school; you’re used to this.

No. Correction: you’re used to comfortably sharing a bed with him. This, right here? This isn’t it. When did things start to change between the two of you?

Oh, you know. When you crossed that line of no return.

You lie there on the soft mattress and against the plushness of the pillows, but your body is stiff. If Jungkook is going through the same thing as you, he doesn’t let it show.

“Why are you so far away? Come here,” he says, and practically yanks you toward him until his arm is wrapped snugly around your shoulders. You’re still rigid against him and you think he notices it, because he starts to rub soothing circles into your skin. It works a little.

Halfway into the movie, you sag against his body. After a few minutes, he glances down at you and chuckles to himself when he spies your slightly open mouth as you calmly snooze.

See, Jungkook thinks, fucking Kim Taehyung and his nosy ass. This is fine.

His eyes roam your face and he realizes that he’s never seen you like this before, not really. You’re his best friend, his partner in crime, his keeper and his soulmate, if soulmates do exist. Before you’re any of those things, he has found you pretty since you were little kids. Since the second grade to be exact, after you shared your first kiss and you suddenly burst out crying because “boys have cooties”. When your entire face was flushed red, your eyes wet with tears that rolled down your cheeks and even snot running from your nose, there was only one word that popped into little 7-year-old Jungkook’s head. Pretty.

Maybe that’s why he tells people that you were his first kiss. Even though you were mere children, there’s some pride in boasting about sharing that experience with someone he thought was the prettiest girl in the world.

If he were to say it out loud, you would argue that it’s reductive to think that way, but you would blush nevertheless. You tend to do that whenever he compliments you. You hide it but he always notices.

Raising a hand to ghost over your cheek, he smiles when he remembers how you always say it’s unfair that he was blessed with such long eyelashes while yours barely kiss the top of your cheeks.

Slender fingers follow the bridge of your nose and brush back the curtain of hair that falls over the side of your face, covering your jawline. When you hum in your sleep and instinctively snuggle closer into his warmth and feather-light touches, his focus shifts to something that he probably shouldn’t be dwelling on.

Jungkook isn’t in primary school anymore; believe it or not, he’s an adult now. He doesn’t just think you’re pretty anymore, he knows you’re beautiful. But if he can see that, then so can others, and the thought of it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He feels like a creep, staring at you like this when you’re far away in dreamland, unaware of all the things running through his mind. It discombobulates him even more so when he can’t help but trace your lips with his thumb, gulping when he finds how soft they are, how lusciously pink they are. Must be from the lipbalm you always tell him he should use. Strawberry, was it? Maybe he should confirm that.

Every time that he’s kissed you thus far has been fleeting—barely even three seconds—and strictly for “business” purposes if you will. Trickery, put on for others to see.

But as he lies here with you cuddled up against him, Jungkook wants to shake you awake. Rouse you from slumber and kiss you until you’re breathless and clutching his arm in search of air. It would be so easy to do too, just a little nudge…

When you unconsciously clear your throat, Jungkook retracts his hand like he’s been burned. Fuck, what was that? he thinks. His entire chest rattles with the impact of his thoughts, and the realization that he can’t snap out of that daze. The urge to kiss you lingers like sweet petrichor after a rain shower. With a mind in overdrive and a heart that won’t calm down, he clenches and unclenches his fist, tries to take steady breaths, and fails to repress more thoughts about your lips. Meanwhile you’re right there, with barely any space between your bodies, blissfully unaware of his turmoil.

Glancing at the journal that spills out of his backpack from where it lays on the floor, he gulps as his conversation with Taehyung echoes in the background.

The next week is more or less the same. You keep maintaining some semblance of distance between you and Jungkook, in that you try to limit your time alone with him. He still walks you home from class—gotta keep up the charade, right?—and you still hang out as a group with all your other friends. But other than that, you’ve been making excuses to not have him over as much anymore.

It’s particularly hot today, considering autumn is starting to settle in and you’ve begun to bring out your warmer clothes. Must be summer saying its final goodbye.

You’re with your best friend on the way from your evening philosophy class back to your room. His pinky is hooked around your own, your hands swinging back and forth between your bodies as you relish in the last of the heat.

From the corner of your eye, you spy the familiar glow of green neon lights.

“Hey, let’s go there. I need–”

Silenced.

You flatline for a moment before you’re fully aware of what’s happening.

Jungkook’s mouth is suddenly on your mouth, his arm is encircling your waist; it’s been a few seconds and he isn’t pulling away. Instead, his lips are slowly moving and you find that yours are too. You let your eyelids fall as your hands grip the fabric of his shirt.

Your heart restarts and shifts into full gear every time his lips slot perfectly against yours. The taste of him is devastating, to say the least. You feel his other hand sneak up to cup your cheek and when he swipes his tongue your bottom lip, you gladly part way for him.

His arm tightens around you, effectively pulling you closer. A whimper escapes from your throat, muffled by his mouth, as his tongue dances with yours. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. The fantasies explode in your brain like fireworks and this time, you get your answer.

When some guy on a bike breezes by and whistles loudly, you break away with heavy pants. Still mesmerized by his lips, you blink in a daze and swallow thickly.

“I, uh…” you mumble weakly. If Jungkook isn’t still wrapped around your body, you’re sure you would just fall to the ground. You want to keep kissing him, and you want to cry for some reason.

Your mind is still in shambles from the impact of his actions and in that moment, you forget that he isn’t yours to keep. Ignorance really is bliss, even if it’s only fleeting.

Alas, reality comes crashing down and the air gets knocked out of your lungs for a completely different reason. It’s similar to that feeling you get when you’re dreaming, and you’re falling, and the world shakes you into wakefulness.

He whips his head around and scans your surroundings for a few seconds before turning back to you with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I thought I saw Eunji. What were you gonna say?”

He seems unfazed, and the pieces inside of you fracture even more. The shards pierce everything they could find, like glass in your bloodstream.

Jungkook is stubborn, and childish, and selfish at times, and all of that leads to the thing that you hate most about him: Jungkook can be casually cruel.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek until the taste of him is replaced with something metallic. You point limply at the convenience store around the corner, trying to repress the burning sensation behind your eyes.

“Pads… I need to buy pads.”

He’s gone on many period supply runs for you before, so he’s very well versed in the type of pads you usually get and the roster of comfort snacks you need during that time of the month, which is not to be confused with what gets selected for The Stash.

Whenever Aunt Flow visits, Jungkook always makes sure that you have an array of your favorite chocolates, gummies, and that Honey Stars cereal you like to munch on. Sometimes, if he can afford to splurge a little more that month, he gets you a boba a day to help you cruise through the discomfort.

Your period is the only occasion where he tries to be less of a menace to you, partly because he knows how much you hate going through it, but mainly because you’re ten times more irritable and won’t hesitate to choke him with your bare hands. (This may or may not have happened once or twice.)

Today though, you seem distracted as you browse the aisles. Your hand grabs a packet of pads and you move quickly through the store. It isn’t the one that you normally use, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Maybe you’re trying out different things, who knows? Jungkook isn’t one to tell you how you conduct your business down there.

However, you completely pass by the chocolate shelves without even looking at them. It makes him frown, and he has to linger behind to grab the sweets before catching up with you and dropping them in your little basket. When you sense the extra weight in your grip, you send him an appreciative but uneasy smile, and his stomach immediately drops.

It was the kiss, wasn’t it?

Fuck. Did he make things weird?

You spend most of the shopping trip in silence, and it extends to the walk to your dorm too, excluding the few instances where he makes a silly comment about the mundane things you see on the way home, but you merely hum in acknowledgement.

“Dude,” Jungkook says when the two of you stop in front of your building, “you know I love you right?”

The words sound and feel strange as they come out of his mouth. Strained even to his own ears, foreign on his own tongue.

He’s suddenly nervous as he awaits your response. You’ve exchanged these words a thousand—maybe a million—times before. Not once has it felt like this.

Not once has the air been charged with such uncertainty.

You force a smile onto your face that he can see right through. “I know.” Your voice cracks a little but you immediately cover it up with a fake cough.

He’s about to ask if you want to watch a movie—one of your choosing this time—in an attempt to distill the tension, but you beat him to it with a bid of goodbye. You tell him that you’re tired and just want to sleep, and head inside.

As he stands there alone with only the flickering street lights for company, he frowns. Nerves dissipate in his stomach to make room for something else entirely. Something that sinks in his chest that’s probably not his heart.

Is it?

Either way, it doesn’t matter. What’s more important is that you didn’t say it back.

You’ve never not said it back before, no matter how upset you are with him.

You still said it back when Jungkook accidentally deleted a midterm paper on your laptop that you’d been working on for four days straight. You still said it back when he forgot that he’d promised to pick you up from class to take you dress shopping, and left you stranded in the rain with a broken umbrella for nearly an hour. Even when you had to miss a scholarship interview to take him to the emergency room for appendicitis, you still returned his sentiments.

Drunken or sober, the words still came out one way or another. You said it back every time, every single time…

But there you were, with your strained smile and hollow eyes, caging the words in and swallowing them down.

He shakes his head harshly to expel the thoughts. He looks up at your window before turning on his heels to leave. His fingertips twitch, as he recalls your afternoon together. The urge to grab a pencil and his beloved journal becomes too immense not to notice.

In the wise words of singer-songwriter extraordinaire Tove Lo: “Wanna get over, get under.”

Well, in your case, maybe you won’t be getting under anyone. More like, “wanna get over, eat your feelings, get a date and try to forget.”

Naturally, it’s a lot easier in theory.

The first step? You’ve got it covered. The Stash has nearly been emptied out over the past few days as you make up excuse after excuse to avoid Jungkook.

The second step? You didn’t have to look any further than your cousin and the guy she keeps wanting to set you up with.

It’s really just the third step that you’re having trouble with.

As you sit in this nice restaurant with your date, Seokjin, you find it quite challenging to focus on anything he’s saying.

He seems like a decent guy; charming, funny, not to mention tall and very handsome. Seems like the type of person you would be completely enamored with had your mind not been preoccupied by someone else.

Needless to say, the dinner isn’t going very well. You’re barely responding to any of his jokes or stories, and when he asks you about yourself, you only give him curt responses because you’re too busy thinking about another person.

You can’t remember why you thought this was a plausible idea in the first place.

You don’t notice that it’s been quiet for a few minutes while you pick at your salad and Seokjin watches awkwardly across from you. When a hand lands on your shoulder, you look up, but your date has both arms resting on the table.

A familiar voice calls your name.

“Jungkook,” you breathe as you look to your left, “what are you doing here?”

You can tell that he’s agitated; dare you say, even angry.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he barks at you, and you’re thankful that the table is hidden in the corner, where only the waiter nearby is nosy enough to pay attention to you.

Swallowing thickly, you utter, “I’m on a date.”

Jungkook is evidently unhappy with your answer, though you don’t think there’s any other explanation that he would be pleased with at the moment. He clenches his jaw so harshly that you fear it might snap from that sheer force. Turning his head slightly, he glares at the man sitting across, and his grip on your shoulder tightens.

“Your cousin said you were single,” Seokjin says frantically as his eyes dart between the two of you. You can’t blame him for jumping to conclusions. A guy showing up to your date looking pissed off as hell and you’re losing your voice like you’ve been caught in the act? Yeah, it’s fair to assume.

“I am!” You raise a hand in defense, turning away from your friend to face Seokjin. “He’s just a friend. I’m sorry, I– Jungkook!”

You can’t even finish your sentence before his hand moves to grab your wrist and yanks you to your feet. The waiter watches the scene unfold like it’s a soap opera as you get dragged out of the restaurant helplessly.

When you’re finally outside, you wrench your wrist from Jungkook’s hold but you’re still too stunned to say anything. He runs a hand through his hair and exhales in frustration.

“Get in the car,” he merely says, and surprisingly, you do without any protest.

You must have jinxed yourself back then, huh? You really thought this only happened in the movies.

The twenty-minute drive to your dorm is spent in absolute silence as he simmers in his anger while you organize the thoughts in your head, and the raging whirlpool of emotions that flood your body. After arriving at the building, you let him walk you up to your room and you let him come in. Only then do you find your voice again.

“What the fuck was that back there?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date?”

“I didn’t have to tell you,” you counter, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“But…” He opts for the childish option. “We tell each other everything.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “not everything.”

“What is that supposed to mean? You’re keeping things from me?”

“No, I– You know what, just drop it. Why the fuck are you so mad? You embarrassed me tonight. You had no right to just barge in and drag me out of there like I needed to be kept on a leash.”

“I–” he struggles to find the words, and ends up settling for ones that feel like lies. “We’re supposed to be dating! What if someone saw you? What would that look like for me?”

Even if he meant it, it’s a weak argument and he knows it. The restaurant was far enough from campus that the possibility of being recognized by anyone from school was extremely limited.

“That’s what this is about again?” you scoff bitterly. “Your pride? Your precious little reputation? You’ve been using me for months and I let you–”

“I didn’t use you,” he interrupts.

“Didn’t you?” He stays silent after this, and you feel compelled to continue. “Everyone kept telling me to put an end to your shit or I’ll just eventually get hurt. But did I listen? No, of course not, because I’m stupid and because I’m too in– because I’m fucking stupid.”

“No, no, don’t backtrack. Because you’re what?”

You can’t even yell at him, unless you want the entire floor to hear and wake up tomorrow as the latest piece of gossip on campus. You can’t even weep to your heart’s content either. It’s so fucking shitty, but it’s your own damn fault anyway. What were you even expecting? There was no way you could come out of this unscathed.

“You can’t just kiss me like that and expect me not to…”

He knows exactly what you’re referring to. “Not to what?”

You know he won’t let this go, and you’re not sure you have it in yourself to keep it hidden for much longer. You expected that the truth would come out some day, maybe after you’ve figured out a way to get over him and not have to deal with the repercussions of your confession.

But you’re here at that crossroad now, and you’re tired. You’re exhausted, really, from years of yearning for him in secret and trying to kill that longing but failing every time. Your heart can only take so much before it eventually cracks, and it seems like that moment has come sooner than you ever anticipated.

“You can’t expect me not to be in love with you,” you choke on a cry, “more than I already am.”

His eyes widen and his lips part, and every trace of anger from earlier drains from his face. You take a step back as he takes one forward.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” you take in a breath, and unleash your suffering. “I’ve loved you for half our lives. I would do anything for you, but… I don’t know if I can keep going like this anymore. It’s too much.”

Now that the cat is out of the bag, where do you go from here? The answer is simple: You don’t know.

So, you do the only thing you can at this moment. You sit down on the bed, put your head in your hands, and you let the tears flow freely. Your heart is in your throat, and sunken at the pit of your stomach, and lodged between your ribs all at once, because it’s in pieces and there’s nothing that can undo the damage.

Quietly sobbing in front of the boy you’ve always loved, you feel pathetic and broken, and you mourn more things than just the loss of your friendship.

This isn’t a fight.

No, this is the end of life as you know it.

The mattress dips and you immediately scoot away. He freezes, gauging your reaction and thinking if he should reach out to you. You make that decision for him before he could come to his own conclusion.

“Can you just leave?”

Not leave now and we’ll talk when I’ve cooled off; not leave and silently come back tomorrow with my favorite dessert as a peace offering.

Just leave.

You handed him your heart without even telling him; you gave him hold the most sacred piece of you and let him toy with it without realizing what’s in his palm. Now that he knows, he has no idea what to do with it.

The door closes and it feels like something else is ending too. You and him, the most special bond you’ve ever known. The most important part in every chapter of the story of your life…

You think of the friendship that’s been the foundation of who you are, the pillar that holds you up when everything else tries to pin you down. You think of how it’s starting to come undone brick by brick right in front of you, and there’s nothing you can do about it now.

You and him against the world, but now it’s only the world against you.

See? It always implodes.

Jungkook can be dense sometimes. Nudges don’t work on him; he needs to be pushed, shoved, and knocked some sense into before he can start to get his head straight.

He doesn’t know why he calls Nayoung, but he does. Though it’s getting close to midnight, she picks up on the third ring. He doesn’t regard her sleepy voice and a confused hello? and goes right into it.

“Why did we break up?” he asks anxiously.

Not a question that one might expect to hear from an ex nearly a year after the breakup, through the phone in the middle of the night. “I don’t know, you tell me,” she chuckles softly. “You’re the one who ended things.”

“I don’t know either,” Jungkook mimics her words.

Seconds pass, and Nayoung speaks up. “I’ve always thought it was because of Y/N.”

Yeah, he knew she was going to say that.

“Why?”

“I think everyone could see there was at least something there, except for the two of you. You could never really remember my favorite things as well as you did hers. At first, I told myself it was because you’d been friends for so long, and she’s important to you. But then I realized, that wasn’t really the case,” she says calmly, no bitterness in her voice at all though there she does sound sad as she recalls the past. “Sometimes I wished you would look at me the way you look at her.”

If there’s anything that Jungkook feels as he listens to his ex-girlfriend’s words, it’s guilt, and maybe a pang of remorse.

You think he doesn’t see you but he does; he sees you everywhere. You’re on his mind when that spot should be reserved for someone else.

The night when everything went to hell and back, when he was coming to crash your date, he didn’t know what came over him. He was just so frustrated he couldn’t see straight.

As soon as he overheard Yerin and Namjoon talk about you having dinner with Seokjin, he lost all ability to be rational.

Was he upset because you didn’t tell him, or because you were with another guy?

If you had told him about the date, would it have made him feel better?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks. It’s been some months too late for that question now.

“I guess I just wanted you to myself for a while longer.”

“I’m sorry.” He means it.

“Don’t be.” She understands. “You didn’t know.”

It’s scary when people keep tugging at the rug he’s standing on.

When the line is silent for a beat too long, Nayoung takes the initiative. It’s like she can sense that Jungkook’s affliction even through the phone, can picture how the cogs in his head are turning until they bring you to the conclusion that everyone around him has known for years.

“I knew we couldn’t have lasted long,” she says, hoping it’ll give him some comfort. “That’s why when we broke up, I said I hoped you’d work things out with her. You didn’t understand it back then, did you? I’m glad you do now.”

There’s a lot of things about you that are ingrained into Jungkook’s mind, like how you like to watch horror gameplays because you think the gamers’ reactions are funny sometimes and because you’re too much of a scaredy cat to actually play the games.

You like your eggs with runny yolks and lots of pepper; it can be annoying every time you grumble at him for breaking your yolk whenever he makes you breakfast. You’re very particular about your hair and don’t like it when anyone touches or plays with it.

You’ve developed a newfound love for eBooks because they let you highlight quotes you like and post them on Instagram for pretentious purposes. You like to vacuum but hate washing dishes, which is good because Jungkook doesn’t mind it.

Other than a stuffed koala, you have two other plushies that you still sleep with—a bunny and a duck. Jungkook got you the bunny on your 17th birthday while he was taking you stationery shopping before the new school year. The fuzzy toy at a corner store caught your eye and you made him buy it for you; you said it looked like him and wanted to keep it with you whenever you couldn’t see each other. It’s all worn out now, and he tells you that he’ll get you a new and better one but you always refuse. This one has all the memories, you’d say, and nothing can replace that.

You took care of him when he had three wisdom teeth removed all at once; and you nurse his hangovers every time he makes the guys drop him off at your dorm after a night out, because he insists that sleeping at yours is much better than at his own place. When he wakes up in the morning with his brain mushed and pounding, he finds that your presence makes his headache a little more manageable.

He likes to hold your hand because feeling your dainty hands in his much bigger ones makes him smile for some reason. When you cuddle, he likes the softness of your hair and the scent of the hair serum you use.

Jungkook knows whenever he’s being annoying; it’s fun, he likes being a little shithead. He likes how you tolerate his antics and stupid jokes, and he likes how you would also put him in his place if he goes too far and keep him in check.

It’s in the little things. It’s in his daily routine. There’s a special box that he keeps in the center of his mind, labeled with your name, that goes with him everywhere.

He doesn’t like to think about the future; it’s a scary thought and the world can be a terrifying place sometimes. He doesn’t know what his future holds, how his life will change or where it’ll lead him; but every time his mind falls into that pit of existentialism that he dreads, you’re there.

You part the darkness like the sun. Just the thought of you brings him peace when he needs it. You understand him in ways that no one else ever could.

Because you’re his best friend.

You’ve been a part of his life for so long that somewhere along the way, he never realized it when platonic feelings grew into something more.

Nayoung might have been the one to plant the seed, but Eunji was the catalyst. It’s ironic that none of this probably would’ve happened if Eunji hadn’t accidentally brushed up against Jungkook’s stubborn nature.

There’s a reason why he has been avoiding talking to Namjoon lately. Unlike the other men he knows at school, or any man in his life really, Namjoon sees things, and Namjoon knows how to read between the lines.

In hindsight, there’s a list of things he should’ve done differently. He shouldn’t have been so quick to shut his friends down whenever they broached the matter. He should’ve listened to their concerns; that would’ve saved him a lot of time, and he wouldn’t be sitting here alone in the darkness of his room, brooding over how stupid he’s been acting.

After that initial kiss, the spark that has kept him warm for years flared up into an inferno that torches him to his very core. Something in him shifts, like a light bulb being switched on for the very first time. He had thought about kissing you a few times before that, when he was drunk and you happened to be nearby. But after the fact, kissing you was everything that plagued his mind.

Now, Jungkook knows that’s not how friends are supposed to behave. They aren’t supposed to spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about the other’s lips. They aren’t supposed to be consumed with blind jealousy at the prospect of the other with a romantic interest.

They’re not supposed to want the other how he wants you.

This can go either way. What happens after the realization—that nothing will ever be the same again?

The earth shatters, of course, and the world ends.

None of his relationships have ever hit the one-year mark, and even with Nayoung, he never could find it in himself to tell her he loved her. Maybe there’s a reason for that.

Maybe that reason is because the space in his heart has always been occupied.

You’ve been replaying your last conversation with Jungkook in your head ever since it happened.

When you told Yerin about it, she didn’t say I told you so or reiterate how you should’ve listened to her in the first place. She just sat there and listened to you recant the entire story of that night. She held you and brushed your hair back as you cried. It made you feel better that she let you unburden yourself somewhat with a sobbing session, but it wasn’t enough. Your heart was still broken.

Two weeks have passed, the longest you’ve gone without seeing him. Since that night, Jungkook tried texting you numerous times, to which you didn’t reply. Most of his messages were apologies though you doubt he knew what he was apologizing for. To be honest, you’re not sure you know either. It’s not his fault, not really.

Then, he started leaving you voicemails but they still said the same things as his texts. You didn’t call him back, and it’s been a couple of days since he last tried. In the absence of any communication, you wonder if he’ll try again.

When someone knocks on your door, you expect it to be Yerin coming to check on you again even though she just came over this morning with a box of brownies that you haven’t finished yet. Instead, it’s the person you’ve been dreading and wanting to see at the same time.

“Nice,” Jungkook says, pointing to your old Mojo Jojo t-shirt that never fails to make him chuckle.

He looks like shit, eyes puffy and red like he’s been crying. You don’t reckon you look any better.

The conversation starts the same way it did the last time. “What are you doing here?”

He scratches his neck and peers at you with a pleading look in his eyes. “Can I come in?”

Your hand tightens on the doorknob in a way that he doesn’t miss, and you hesitate for a minute before you retreat back into the room, leaving the door open so he can follow. You go to sit on the bed, and he tentatively sits next to you but still cautious enough to leave some space between your bodies.

Minutes pass, and it’s silent. Neither one of you can read the other like you used to; it’s unsettling to say the least.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, his voice cuts above the tension in the room and hangs over your head like a black cloud.

This is it. This is it.

This is the part where he tells you that he loves you, but not in that way. That he only sees you as a friend; there’s nothing between you other than platonic feelings. You’ve spent all your life preparing for this moment, and yet nothing can truly ever brace your heart for what’s about to come.

“I never told you why me and Nayoung broke up,” Jungkook starts, and confusion seeps into your features. “She wanted me to meet her parents and I… I just couldn’t do it. I knew I liked her, but I couldn’t see myself taking that next step with her, or with anyone… And you know why I told Eunji that you and I wanted to try dating? She thought I’d never get my shit together and confess,” he chuckles humorlessly as he recalls the memory. “Even then I still didn’t know. I just wanted to prove that she was wrong.”

You’re not really sure why he has to drag out the act of breaking your heart. You turn to look at him. Doe eyes on the verge of tears. It makes you want to cry more than you already do.

“I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“To be honest, I don’t think I know either,” he says. “I know I should give you time, and that I’m being selfish for even being here, but I just wanted to see you.” His voice breaks at the end, and you break along with it. “I just wanted to see you.”

Your fists clench in your lap as you bite the inside of your cheek. He’s making this so hard for you, and his next words throw you in for a loop.

“I think… I think I might be in love with you.”

“Please don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply. Instead, he pulls out the sketchbook from his backpack and hands it to you. The leather is worn, even more so than the last time you saw it and it melts your insides just a little bit.

“Open it.”

“Jungkoo–”

“Please,” he says, his voice unsteady. “Please just open it.”

As you flip through the pages, it’s mostly sketches that you’ve seen before.

Then, you come across a crumbled page, ripped from its home and clumsily taped back into the journal. On the page was an outline of a person, and you can only make out that it’s a figure of a girl, someone you don’t recognize for the lack of details. Anyone can tell that he doesn’t get a lot of practice when it comes to drawing people.

But you do recognize the surroundings, drawn much more intricately, and you realize it’s the beach you went to two summers ago.

Over the next few pages, it’s still the same outline, still the same girl only in different settings, but ones that you’re all too familiar with.

The figure gets more detailed the more you go through his sketchbook, and by the time you’ve reached the latest addition, it’s clear who the girl is supposed to be.

It’s you.

You at the local flea market; you at the campus cafe, hunched over a notebook and an iced latte; you in his hometown where you visit his parents every once in a while.

And… you, that day Jungkook kissed you, with the convenience store in the background, near the corner of the page. The girl in the drawing is much more beautiful than you think you could ever be.

When a teardrop lands on the paper, you realize you’ve been crying. He’s beside you now, having shuffled closer while you were too immersed in the journal. His arm brushes yours, and when you turn to him, you see that he’s crying too.

“That day,” he starts, fingers ghosting over the sketch of you, “I lied to you about seeing Eunji. I just wanted to kiss you, but I was a coward, and I was scared of having thoughts about you that friends shouldn’t have about each other.”

You wipe away the tears from his cheek and he instantly leans into your touch. His lips wobble slightly as you look at each other; everything unsaid now out in the open, settling in between the two of you, waiting for someone to make the next move.

“Jungkook…”

“If you want me to leave, I will,” he whispers, sniffling and holding onto your wrist. “Do you want me to leave?”

You don’t know what to say other than no.

“I’m sorry… for not realizing it sooner.”

You give him a teary smile. “It’s okay,” you say, though it hasn’t been okay. You’ve been miserable these last two weeks, and every so often these past years of your life.

Old habits die hard; you always want to appease him. But if there’s ever a good time to forgive him for all of it, you think it might as well be now.

His gaze drops to your mouth, making your heart speed up as you wait for him. A shaky hand cups your face like if his fingers brush your cheek the wrong way, it might undo all the progress he’s made.

Jungkook visibly gulps as he leans closer, his breath fanning your mouth softly until he finally presses his lips to yours.

Kindred spirits meeting each other for the first time again.

The count resets to 1. None of the kisses you’ve had before mean anything; the only ones that matter are ones that you share from now on.

When your lungs burn, he pulls away and chuckles breathlessly. His eyes are still glassy from tears, and it only emphasizes the galaxy that resides in them, an entire cosmos in those chocolate eyes that calls out your name with every twinkle of light.

You go in for another kiss, and another one, and another one… until your hearts start to feel a little fuller and the ache gradually becomes a distant memory,

Gloomy days where you know the sun is hiding behind that thick curtain of clouds but just won’t come out.

The clouds part and golden sunlight starts to peek through. It’s brighter than anything he’s seen before but he thinks he’ll manage just fine.

He’s got his best friend right by his side.

“It’s for real this time?” Taehyung narrows his eyes at Jungkook skeptically. “You’re not fucking with me?”

“Yes, Tae, it’s real.” The younger man rolls his eyes but smiles as he utters the words.

You’re in Yerin’s bedroom, helping with each other’s hair and makeup for a university dinner that you’re all going to tonight, while the guys wait in the living room, having already donned their suits.

Taehyung throws his head back and groans in frustration as he reaches into his pocket. Jungkook opens his mouth, about to ask what’s with the reaction to his good news, but stops when he notices a wild Yoongi appear with his palm open.

Taehyung pulls out his wallet and slaps a few bills onto the awaiting hand, which quickly snatches them up as Yoongi scuttles back to his seat with a grin.

Jungkook frowns. “What was that?”

“We had a bet,” Taehyung grumbles, taking a cookie on the coffee table and throwing it into his mouth. As he chews and talks, chocolate chip crumbs fall onto his dress shirt. “On whether or not you would step up and confess.”

Jungkook’s frown deepens even further as he looks between his friends. At this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised that literally everyone but him has known all along. “Wha– Wait, you betted against me?”

“Man, I love you, and trust me when I say I was rooting for you, but your head was so far up your ass, it didn’t look like you were ever getting out of there.”

Jungkook’s brows shoot into his forehead in disbelief and maybe betrayal too, and he has a retort ready to launch at Taehyung though he’s interrupted by the sound of a door opening, followed by heels clicking on the wooden floor.

He isn’t allowed a chance to get a good look at you before you’re already tucking yourself into his side, with your head resting on his shoulder. Across from you, Yerin has already taken her usual spot on the couch beside Namjoon.

There’s something twinkling in Namjoon’s eyes as he looks at Yerin, but it can’t compare to the cluster of galaxies shining in Jungkook’s as he takes you in.

“What are we talking about?” you ask, tipping your head back to look up at him.

“We,” Taehyung chimes in before Jungkook can answer, “are talking about what a dumbass your boyfriend is.”

Heat rises from your neck and further accentuates the rose-colored blush on your cheeks at the word “boyfriend”. When you try to look down and hide your face, Jungkook grabs your chin between his fingers to hold your head in place as he offers you a quick kiss, brushing off Taehyung’s teasing words because you’re right there in his arms, looking all pretty and shy. It’s not everyday that he gets to see you dolled up like this.

His sudden action makes you even more flustered though. You clear your throat and fiddle with his hand that falls from your face to your lap, while your friends watch the interaction with fond smiles.

To the outside world, to anyone who isn’t privy to the whole fiasco that happened over the past months, everything is still the same. But to your little band of thieves, everything has changed.

That night, Jungkook takes you back to his place.

Truth be told, the prospect of having sex with him didn’t cross your mind until tonight. There was something about him in a dashing suit and his hair styled in a way that made him even more handsome than he already is, that had you clenching your thighs together during the dinner.

Jungkook knows you’re significantly less experienced than him. You’ve only had sex once before and you didn’t even finish. Not to pin the blame on the other guy though; that was your first time, it’s understandable that you couldn’t fully relax.

But now, as you lie underneath your best friend with his lips sucking on your neck and one of his hands squeezing your ass, the nerves decide to make an appearance.

You feel like a virgin again.

You’ve never really let yourself think about Jungkook and his skills in bed; it stings a little too much to imagine him sleeping with other girls even though you know he does. Sometimes Jungkook would tell you if he had a one-night stand the day before—not in detail, because you’d normally shut it down and change the topic.

Your heart hammers in your ribcage as he pulls down the straps of your bra. When he unhooks the garment and throws it to the floor, you can’t help but cross your arms over your chest and look away timidly.

He cups your cheek and turns your head to look at you. “Hey, it’s me,” he whispers. “It’s just me. You don’t have to hide from me. You never have to hide from me.”

As you gaze at him, you realize that he’s right. It’s safe there in those iridescent eyes of his. You know he means it when he promises not to jeopardize your heart ever again.

“Do you trust me?” Jungkook asks softly, fingers brushing away the hair that frames your face.

You do. Unconditionally, willingly, ardently. There’s no doubt about it now.

“Yes,” you whisper. Untangling your arms, you wrap them around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. You can’t get over how soft his lips are against your own, or how it seems like you’re floating with every sound you pull from him.

When you break away for air, he trails his mouth along your jawline, your neck, your collarbone and then your chest. He takes one breast in his mouth and sucks on your nipple until it hardens against his tongue. You weave your fingers through his hair as he licks your perky bud, arching into him and moaning when he switches sides to give your other breast the same attention.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip when he releases your nipple with a wet pop! and kisses his way down the path of your stomach to your clothed heat. Your hand leaves his hair to grip the bed sheets, your heart stuttering in anticipation as he neglects your core entirely and goes to suck hickeys into your inner thighs.

You can feel yourself get wetter with every swipe of Jungkook’s tongue on your skin, and you’re sure that he can smell your arousal even through your panties at such close proximity.

“Please,” you beg. “I need you to do something, I need you…”

“Patience,” he tsks as he comes up to hover above you again but still keeps his hand on your thigh, fingers dancing closer to your cunt until he finally makes contact. “I’ll make you feel good.”

As he rubs you over your panties, you moan against his mouth, and he swears the sound could make him combust right then and there.

“Jungkook…” you whimper softly, eyebrows knitted together in pleasure. Your breath hitches and you look like you could cry just from this alone. God, there’s nothing he would love more than to ruin you.

His knee nudges your legs further apart as he devours your lips, his free hand palming your breast and pinching your nipple. Your panties start to become soaked, leaving his fingers a little sticky even through the lace.

“Jungkook,” you whine again, tugging on his wrist.

“Mhmm?” He teases your clothed entrance, making you buck into his hand. “What do you want, baby?”

You might be inexperienced, but you’re definitely not a prude.

“Your–your fingers… please…”

He smirks against your mouth before pulling away to slide your underwear off your legs. He comes back to his previous position above you, kissing you and fondling your tits again. Deft digits land directly on your bare pussy, nothing to separate you from him.

He slips a finger inside, and you immediately clench at the intrusion.

“Relax for me,” Jungkook coos and rubs your clit with his thumb to help you loosen up. It feels nice though the discomfort is still there, and you know the more you focus on trying to ease into it, the more it backfires.

“That’s easier said than done,” you breathe, holding onto his wrist as he continues to pump into you. His lips find your chest and he sucks a tit harshly into his mouth. He can tell how much you like it from the wetness that gushes out of you, and he grants you another finger.

“Feel good?” he purrs, alternating between licking and biting your nipple.

You buck your hips to meet his fingers and cry out with every thrust of his hand. “So… so good…”

He scissors your pussy open and revels in the wet squelches in the air. It sends blood rushing straight to his cock, which strains uncomfortably in his boxers.

“Can you take one more?” he asks, mouth hot against your breast.

“I think so,” you moan, surprisingly excited to be stuffed with his fingers. Jungkook continues to swirl his tongue around your nipple as he pushes another digit inside your heat. “Nghhh…”

It’s a bit tight at first, but your body obeys him after a few thrusts; your walls stretch to comfortably suck his fingers in.

You really don’t know if it usually feels this good, or if it’s just Jungkook and his hands, his mouth, everything, in particular that can make your body react like this. You’re close to floating, transcending, with his every movement.

Obscene and wet sounds fill your ears, his warm lips on your body, his slender fingers bringing you to the edge…

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you rasp out.

“Cum then. You can do it,” he whispers and trails upward to kiss your cheek. “Such a good girl. Come on…” You lose your damn mind every time his digits slide in and out, and the wet sounds of him fingering your pussy only add to the pressure in your stomach.

He curls his fingers two, three times and you’re done for. Your nails dig into his arm as you scream his name, tears spilling from your eyes. He wants to tattoo the raised tone of your voice onto his brain for rainy days, and maybe every other day in between.

Jungkook fucks you through your orgasm and then some. When he pulls his hand away from your battered cunt, he smirks at the sight of it soaked in your essence. You watch him spread the mess you made on his fingers and put them in his mouth. Euphoria washes over you as he tastes you, moaning while he does so.

If he can make you cry with just his fingers, he can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when you cream all over his cock.

He might not have been your first time but he’s the first person to ever make you cum, and that’s an even better honor for him.

He leans down to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth to let you taste yourself. “Mhmm,” you moan and pull him closer until you feel his cock against your thigh, hard and heavy. When you palm him over his underwear, he gasps into your mouth, and you feel a small wet patch from where his precum stains his boxers.

“I want you…” you whisper languidly and grip him tighter.

“You have me,” he reassures, though it’s not exactly what you meant. He kisses you once more before sitting up to remove his last article of clothing. His cock, angry and leaking, slaps against his abs and you can’t help but bite your lip.

You’ve only seen and had one dick before, but even you know that Jungkook’s would be categorized as how-the-actual-fuck-will-it-fit big.

He fists his length and gives it a few pumps, smirking when he finds your eyes trained on his hand and its movements, bottom lip between your teeth while you’re still spread out for him. Your pussy drips onto his sheets from renewed arousal.

He turns away from you to grab a condom from his wallet on the floor, tears into the foil to take out the rubber and rolls it over his shaft.

“You ready?” he asks as he guides the tip to your slit, rubbing it against your folds to collect more wetness so he can slide in easier. Jungkook teases you a little, nudging your clit with his cock and relishing in the tiny moan you let slip out.

“Fuck me,” you say softly. It feels unreal to hear you—his best friend—utter these words to him. “Ah…” you mewl when he pushes in. Despite having been stretched by three of his fingers, his cock is a little too much for you.

He makes it about halfway in before he stills, waiting for you to open up. “It’s just me,” he repeats his sentiments from earlier and kisses you, hoping that it’ll help you relax and take him in completely.

It does work, sort of. Your pussy swallows a couple more inches of his length but he still can’t bottom out in this position. He tries fucking you like this, maybe your walls will stretch out more once you get into it but as soon as your brows knit in evident discomfort, he stops entirely.

“Am I hurting you?” His voice is rushed, worried. “Do you want to stop?”

“No! No, I– I want to keep going. It’s just…”

You huff out a breath in frustration, and Jungkook sees right through you, on the verge of blaming yourself and your body for something that isn’t your fault.

“Let me try something,” he says and pecks your lips again. He pulls out of you carefully and sits back against the headboard as he helps you climb on top of him. “Might make it easier.”

He holds your hips as you hover over his cock; the tip circles your entrance and you moan lowly, your hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself.

You sink down on him slowly, letting out shaky breaths until you’ve completely taken everything in. He rubs your hips soothingly as your walls stretch around his shaft.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek.

You shake your head and lean into his touch. “No, I just need a minute.”

“Okay.”

After a moment passes, Jungkook watches you reach for his hand and guide it toward your bundle of nerves, silently asking him to play with your clit while your pussy readies itself for him, and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing he has seen anyone do. You moan when his thumb rubs figure eights into your swollen bud, your hips starting to move on their own accord to seek pleasure.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you lift your body experimentally from his cock and sink down again, making the both of you moan at the feeling of him gliding along your velvety walls with more ease.

The position is a little awkward because you don’t exactly know how to move on top of him.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “Go at your own pace.”

Though your rhythm is a bit off, you do it again, and again, and again, until you’re a moaning mess on top of him, fucking yourself on his cock while he watches, absolutely mesmerized by you. Breathless cries slip from your lips as Jungkook continues to stimulate your clit, your tits slightly jiggling with every movement, your eyes rolling back in bliss and he hasn’t even begun to do anything yet.

Fuck. He really needs to ruin you.

He presses his hips to yours to keep his dick from slipping out of you as he flips the both of you over. You look so pretty pinned underneath him like this that he twitches and grows even harder inside you.

“I want…” he trails off and gulps, looking for words as you stare at him quizzically, your walls unintentionally clenching around him. “I want to wreck your pretty little pussy. I want to fuck you so hard, you’ll be feeling me for days. Will you let me do that, hmm? Can I show you how much I love you?”

Hearing his crude words, you almost go into cardiac arrest. The way he’s looking at you could puncture your skin; his eyes darken with unfiltered lust that it turns you on unbelievably more. “Yes, please…” You nod, eager to have him prove to you that he means it.

Jungkook pulls back until just the tip is in you before he plunges forward, making you choke on a moan and your eyes roll back into your head.

It starts out slow at first; he wants to make sure that you’re fully ready for him before he picks up the pace. When you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer and raise your hips to meet his thrusts, he begins to settle into a faster rhythm, fucking into you with heightened desire and desperation.

“Oh, fuck,” he drawls. “You feel so good.”

“Jungkook ah…”

Your eyes screw shut as you let the intense pleasure take over your entire body. The room fills up with your wanton moans and sinful sounds of skin slapping.

“Fuck me. Would you look at that?” He sounds like he’s whispering to himself, but you open your eyes to see what he’s talking about anyway.

Jungkook’s eyes are transfixed on the sight of his cock in your pussy, glistening with your juices every time he pulls out and gets even wetter every time he dives back in.

While he’s focused on that, there’s something else that catches your attention.

Your hand slides across your body and comes to a stop at your stomach. “Jungkook,” you stutter when he delivers a particular hard thrust and you clench around him. “You’re so big…”

He trails his eyes up to where your hand is, and his mind immediately blanks.

No thoughts, head empty.

Knock knock, is anybody home?

“Fuck,” he grunts out, “fuck!”

Your stomach bulges with the faint outline of his cock as he pounds you into the mattress. He covers your hand with his own and slightly presses down on it, savoring the gasp that escapes from you.

You feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he thoroughly fucks you and your cunt swallows up what he gives you.

“Please,” you rasp out, “harder…”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He doesn’t give you time to respond, though if he did, you don’t think your brain could come up with any coherent sentences right now. He caresses your belly to let both of you feel his cock driving into you before his hand slips down to rub your clit. Jungkook slants his mouth over yours to swallow your surprised moan, and you feel dizzy all of a sudden.

Is this what coming home feels like? The yearning, the longing, the wanting but never having… it’s been years, it’s all you can remember. But now that it’s finally happening, you can’t find it in yourself to believe in the reality of it.

Jungkook loves you, in the way that you’ve always wanted him to. He’s here—he’s really here—taking this leap with you and no amount of gratitude toward the universe will ever be enough to convey how euphoric you feel—body and soul—in this moment.

You call out his name breathlessly, your walls fluttering around his cock as you hold onto his biceps. “I–I’m…” Your cheeks are stained with overflowing tears; the pleasure sending you into overdrive as you sob out brokenly.

“I know, I can feel it,” he murmurs. “Cum for me, baby, hmm? I love you… Love you so much…”

He flicks your clit as he fucks you harder, faster than before, his thick cock repeatedly nudging your G-spot. He keeps the pace until you’re practically writhing in his arms, his name falling from your lips like a mantra and stars exploding behind your eyes.

Your juices soak his cock as Jungkook continues to fuck you, to help you ride out your high and chase his own. You’re still whimpering even after you’ve come down, and all he can think about is how he would give you the moon if you asked.

“Koo…” You bring your hands up to push back the sweat-slicked hair from his handsome face and pull him down for a sloppy kiss. Your tongue plays with his while he’s still toying with your clit. “Cum for me,” you whisper against his mouth. “Wanna see you cum for me…”

If he were to die right this second, he thinks it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

You’re so wet, and tight, and warm. He feels your pussy pulsate and throb around him and he wishes that there wasn’t a fucking condom in the way.

One more thrust, two more… and his hips are stuttering as he shoots into the condom. His mouth hangs open with whispers of your name and his eyebrows are knitted in pure bliss; he’s so fucking beautiful like this that you can’t help but squeeze your cunt around him. He seems to like it, so you do it again, hoping to prolong his pleasure. “Fuck, baby…”

Silence overwhelms the space around you now that you’re both still, basking in a post-orgasmic haze. You look at him with a lazy grin that he returns, and he tilts his head adorably as he wipes away the remainder of your tears.

Yeah, this must be what coming home feels like.

His tender eyes gazing down at you, his contented smile blooming just for you, his heart beating in tandem with yours… Jungkook is the safest place you know.

Even if being a shithead is inherent to who he is as a person. Even if he believes there’s a divine power in the banana milk at the local convenience store. Even if he has no regard for your stash of emergency snacks. Even then, he’s your person.

Even then, he’s your home.

It’s been a long time coming.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #btswritingcafe #btscarnivalnet #btshoneyhive #btsgoldnet #clubzerooclock #52hertz #bangtaninn #fic: strictly platonic

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chateautae · 2 years

Text

maybe i do: “one week without sex”

➵ summary: when a small, petty argument spirals out of control, you and your husband settle on one solution to the problem; betting who can last the longest without sex. it won’t be easy, but you and taehyung are equally determined to win, and you’ll both stop at nothing to secure your victories—even if it means playing dirty.

↳ part of the maybe i do series!

this drabble can be read as a stand alone, but it is highly recommended to read the series!

➵ pairing: ceo!taehyung x wife!reader

➵ genre: arranged marriage!au, established relationship!au, smut, minor angst, fluff

➵ rating: 18+

➵ word count: 20k

➵ warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption (both parties are able to consent), constant sexual teasing, high-class gang cameo!!, getting caught in the act 👀, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, D/s relationship, dom!tae, sub!reader, big dicc!tae, heavy making out, breast fondling, choking, finger sucking, male and female masturbation, sexting/phone sex, use of a sex toy (vibrator), exhibitionism + voyeurism (with each other), drunk sex, rough, needy sex, riding, hitting it from the back, impregnation kink, creampie <3

➵ a/n: and here it is!! again please excuse the ridiculous word count, i’m attempting to work through writing a sequel for the maybe i do series, so these “drabbles” are just me experimenting with the content! i’ll provide more details when I can heheh <33 thank you endlessly to my wife @amourtae for beta-ing!!! i hope you enjoy and your feedback is always appreciated!

“You’re gonna be late, honey, be quick.”

“Who cares? I am not leaving you.”

Taehyung’s hips bang against yours as he delivers precise, quick thrusts. The slapping sound of skin resounds erotically inside his office, even more so your laboured, hot breaths.

“You need… to go faster, baby.” You manage to pant, fingers weaving through his thick, fluffy locks, rutting your perky breasts against his dress shirt. Taehyung’s desparate digits dig into your thighs as he plunges his cock inside you, each time burrowing further into your velvety, pulsing sex.

Deep, satisfied grunts leave Taehyung’s mouth just by yours, obsessed with your little breaths. He dips down and kisses you, long and deep. Your ass practically bounces backwards across his office desk when he accelerates the speed of his thrusts, propelling into your pussy as he devours your mouth.

“Tae... the meeting...”

“I’m trying to make a baby with my wife,” Taehyung ruggedly breathes, lips hot on yours. “A meeting can wait.”

“You’re already-ngh, fifteen minutes late, ba-by.” You warn him, clutching around his neck for dear life as his cock slams inside you, ceaselessly throbbing.

How you ended up in this erotic situation? You didn’t expect what Taehyung labelled a quickie to morph into a scene straight out of porn—your outfit for today apparently tempted your husband beyond his control.

His salacious eyes told you a carnal tale once you visited him for a minor report check, and now your boobs lasciviously jostle against him, spilling out of your top he stripped open, your panties carelessly flung across his chair.

Taehyung spent his precious, limited window of time before his meeting happily licking and sucking your nipples, dirty-talking you about the hot milf you’ll become once you’re carrying your child; and now his thick length is lodged inside you, fucking into your stomach.

“Tae...” you sigh, nails scratching down the back of his strong neck. His pillowy lips envelope your neck, leaving addicting kisses down your throat—your pussy violently pulses.

“Fuck, you make me so hard.” He growls against your heated skin, his hands spreading your thighs to clutch them tighter, something feral possessing him. He leans back to his full height, prying you wide open to suddenly hammer into your tight cunt.

High-pitched moans ceaselessly tumble out of you, soon met by Taehyung’s animalistic groans, praising you and your goddess-like pussy. “Shit, Princess, I swear I’m addicted to you.” He breathes, licking the bite marks he leaves along your pulse point. “Fucking best pussy in the world.”

Your hand haphazardly reaches behind you, crumpling some of his paperwork as your sex devours his mighty thrusts, bracing for impact. Your lewd noises are endless, watching the way his dick disappears inside you, soon met by Taehyung’s fiery kiss.

You reciprocate it, moving your mouth in sync with his until you scrounge up a semblance of common sense. “Baby... your meeting...ah!”

“Fuck them, fuck the meeting.” Taehyung tosses aside all care to plough into your dripping sex. Your pussy juices incessantly flow out of you, fucked to your absolute limit as he feeds your impending orgasm.

His lips are hot and heavy, only disconnecting to lean against your forehead, his breaths utterly delirious. “Come for me, Y/N.” He pants, pushing your legs back to plunge himself deeper. “Wanna hear my pretty wife come.” He grunts, burrowing his thick, spasming flesh so deep inside you, he caresses your cervix—you instantly cry out.

“Fuck, Tae!”

“C’mon, Princess,” Taehyung encourages by your lips. “Soak my dick, baby; let me feel it.”

He only drives you towards the edge faster, crashing his lips against yours for a heated makeout session. You feel a tight knot bundling inside the bottom of your stomach, begging for release.

“Fuck me, oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck!” He curses loudly, biting your bottom lip as he’s forced to slow down. “I’m gonna fucking explode, I can’t last.”

“Me neither.” You whimper like a pathetic whore, sighing with paradisiacal relief—he just hit every spot inside you.

Relishing in your spongy walls, Taehyung renews his rhymically fast pace that harmonizes your pornographic moans, growing louder, and louder, and louder as your orgasm unravels—

“Mr. Ki–oh dear God!”

Taehyung comes to an abrupt stop that sucks the soul out of you, his eyes widening in horror. You glance back to share his line of sight—your jaw simultaneously drops to the center of the Earth.

“Oh my fuck—Mrs. Lee!!” You screech, finding her shielding her eyes as she hides behind Taehyung’s office door. Irreversible embarrassment colours your system, Taehyung protectively concealing your naked front against his chest.

“Mrs. Lee, shit, why didn’t you call me?” He harshly questions.

“I-I tried to Mr. Kim, but you didn’t pick up.” The secretary nervously responds. “The board members are becoming impatient, sir, they instructed me to come find you.”

Taehyung lets out the most irritated sigh in his life. He reluctantly draws out of your sex once he glimpses at the door, ensuring Mrs. Lee was out of sight. Locating your blazer, he hands it to you, sympathy riddling his features once he sees the shame on your face, helping you shield your exposed boobs.

“Can’t you at least knock? Didn’t that goddamn occur to you?” Taehyung reprimands her, his tone laced with frustration as you remain mortified, near tears because of the embarrassment.

“I tried, Mr. Kim, though I don’t—” she hesitates behind the door. “I don’t believe you heard me.”

Grinding his teeth, Taehyung works himself back into his boxers, tugging up his pants to re-clasp his belt. “Jesus Christ, Mrs. Lee, tell the members I’ll be there in five. And don’t ever breathe a word of this to anyone—you didn’t see anything.” He rigidly demands, soon listening to his secretary’s incessant apologies.

“I sincerely apologize, Mr. Kim. I’ll let them know immediately and I won’t tell a soul.” The poor lady sounds as though she’s on the verge of sobbing, shutting the door quickly before she vanishes.

Taehyung huffs out angrily, shrugging his coat back on. His soft hand cradles your face, incredibly attentive. “Are you alright, Princess?”

“God, Taehyung, that was so embarrassing!” You screech, shoving your blazer against your naked front before hopping off his desk. “You really couldn’t fucking wait until your meeting was over?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, a playful smile tugging his lips. “Princess, it’s alright. It’s actually kind of funny that she caught us.”

Disgusted, you narrow your eyes at him. “Fuck off, Tae, this isn’t funny! That was utterly embarrassing.”

“Baby, this is going to be something we’ll laugh about together, don’t worry.” Taehyung attempts to lighten your mood, chuckling as he fixes his tie.

You’re filled with crippling humiliation, however, storming away from him. You’re unable to share his light-heartedness—you told Taehyung he was going to be late for his meeting, and yet he didn’t listen to you. “Don’t tell me not to worry, asshole, I told you you were late for this meeting and you just didn’t listen.” You begin searching for your panties he’d slung somewhere, utterly annoyed. “Now I’ve just been completely humiliated. I don’t think I can look Mrs. Lee in the eye again!”

Sighing, Taehyung perches his hands on his hips. “Baby, it’s fine. It was just Mrs. Lee—I’m sure she hears us all the time whenever we have sex in my office.” He waves off. “I’m just glad it wasn’t a man; I would’ve had to kill him, otherwise.”

Mortified, you snap an irritated look at him, tightly clutching your bare chest. “That is not the same as her finding you balls deep inside me, it doesn’t matter who found us. Why couldn’t you just listen to me when I said we could have sex after your meeting? We could’ve entirely avoided that.”

Taehyung softens at your anger, gesturing for you to be at ease. “Princess, people have sex all the time, and people walk in on people having sex all the time. It’s normal, you’ll be fine.”

Fed up with him, you exhale a scoff. Locating your panties on his chair, you shimmy them on. “God, you’re so irritating sometimes. I don’t want anyone walking in on us having sex, Taehyung. I don’t want anybody fucking seeing that, especially me.”

Rubbing his temple, Taehyung notices the frailty of your vulnerable tone paired with your glistening eyes, searching for a solution. He lets out a long, deep sigh, watching you tug your bra back over your breasts. “Baby, I’m sure Mrs. Lee knows what sex is and how much of it we have—pretty much everyone does. Not to mention everyone also knows we’re trying to get pregnant, and it’s normal for conceiving couples to constantly have sex, what’s your deal?”

You can’t believe his audacity right now, shaking your head. He doesn’t understand that you feel uncomfortable being seen like that, irrevocable shame spreading across your entire system—you tightly clutch your body to hide it. “You just can’t go a goddamn day without getting your dick wet, isn’t that it? You really couldn’t wait the half an hour your meeting would’ve taken before you blew your load inside me? Was it really that difficult?”

Taehyung’s face immediately twists with disgust. “What the fuck? Don’t make it sound like that; I just wanted to make love to my gorgeous wife so we can start a family, why are you getting mad at me?”

“Because you really can’t fucking keep it in your pants!” You blow up, tugging your dress pants back up your legs, soon buttoning your blouse. “And now I’m left with an uncomfortable, mortifying memory because of you!”

“What? You literally went along with it, you can’t keep it in your pants, either!” Taehyung argues back, accusingly pointing a finger.

“God, you know what? I bet you can’t even go a day without us having sex.” You challenge him, your husband scoffing behind his desk.

“You’re talking to me as if I don’t know self-control?” He barks. “You’re horny all the time! I bet you can’t go two days without my dick.”

Agitated by his boyish attitude, you childishly counter him. “Oh yeah? I bet you can’t go three days without my pussy!”

“I bet you can’t go four days!”

“Five days!”

“Six days!”

“Ugh!” You frustratingly grunt, tucking your blazer over your arm.

You shove your husband aside to retrieve the work you originally came with. Your eyes bore into his, ploughing your finger into his broad chest. “A week, I bet you can’t go an entire week without sex, you sex beast!”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see how long you last before you’re craving our sex again—you wouldn’t last three days with your libido, woman!” Taehyung dramatically gesticulates, clearly as wound up as you.

“Says my idiot husband who comes in me at least twice a day, your libido won’t last either!” You challenge him before vexedly stomping away, grabbing his office door’s handle.

“Are you challenging me, Mrs. Kim?” Taehyung leans his delectable hands on the surface of his desk, narrowing his eyes from across the room. If you weren’t so used to your husband’s fierce, sexy eyes, you would’ve folded right then. “Because I assure you, I haven’t lost a day in my life, and I don’t plan on starting now.”

Scoffing at his use of his CEO voice, you strengthen your own. “Wrong, you’re getting taken down, Mr. Kim, and it’ll be by your dear wife.” You condescendingly smile.

He huffs, folding his arms over his chest as you pry open his door, calling out to you. “Then my dear wife doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into, she’s going to lose!”

Not giving a fuck anymore, you power-walk out of his office. “You’re late for your meeting, Kim!” You holler, sending him a gracious middle finger before pointedly slamming the door shut.

“Yes, I need you to authorize the transaction, Jimin.” Taehyung fixes his Gucci glasses on his face, scribbling away on his Surface. “He’s an important associate of mine, he came all the way from Hong Kong. I want him in a nice room for the weekend.”

Later that evening, you attempt to drown out Taehyung’s business talk. You were currently occupying your swing on your backyard’s porch, indulging in some light reading to at least keep your distance from your infuriating husband.

But alas, you live in the same house as him, so ignoring him was a lost cause.

You’re seriously unsure why Taehyung decided to conduct his business after hours downstairs, even that, in the entertainment area. His constant chatter was distracting you from reading, having already sent him death glares from outside on multiple occasions, only for him to shoot a mocking look back.

He usually used the library or his study for work, though it seems he didn’t intend to exactly work, either. He’s dressed in his home clothes; a loose white, Celine t-shirt with baggy, black shorts. He only ever used his glasses whenever he was diligently reading—perhaps he originally intended on scrolling through some news on his Surface.

“Huh? I don’t know, I’m a little stressed, I guess.” He suddenly replies; Jimin being the sweetheart he is most likely asked him how he’s doing.

“Yeah, he’s a fucking tycoon in Hong Kong, I’m seriously hoping he takes up my proposal.” Taehyung complains. “It’s stressing me out; I need to be able to distribute in Hong Kong and I’ve heard he’s not big on involving himself with the Korean market.”

Taehyung continues humming in acknowledgement or nodding, before his eyes suddenly shift in your direction. You scramble once he catches you watching him—his face suddenly scrunches into one of scrutiny. “I don’t know, Jimin, usually my wonderful wife helps me out with my stress, but she’s being an annoying brat right now.”

Scoffing, you shake your head with disbelief, staring daggers at him through the ajar doors.

“Fighting? Pft, no way. We totally aren’t fighting, not when she uselessly yells at me in my own office when I did nothing wrong.”

Done with his crap, you slam your book shut, stomping inside the house. “You liar! You fucking deserved it, Kim!”

“I didn’t deserve shit!” Taehyung barks back, not even minding that he’s on call. “How’d you feel after that denied orgasm today, huh? Sure you’re not going to rub one out without me right now?”

Exclaiming with disbelief, you threaten to throw your book at him. “You-! Have fun coming into some fucking tissues instead of my cunt, asshole!”

That’s the last thing you get out before thrashing your feet up the stairs, listening to Taehyung yell a ‘whatever!’ as you whack your bedroom door shut.

The next morning, you groggily awake in bed, despising the AM. You were glad you’d fallen asleep before Taehyung crawled into bed last night; he must’ve stayed up late. Craning your neck over your shoulder, you find him fast asleep next to you.

He’s laying on his side; his left hand tucked underneath his bread-like cheek, his right loosely cradling your bare waist. It seems he got hot during the night—the blanket was completely kicked off his feet.

Remembering that you’re pissed at him, you remove his arm—it didn’t matter how cute he looked when he slept, or that he cuddled you to fall asleep, or that he was right; your denied orgasm yesterday left the sight of his bare body igniting heat between your legs.

Clearing your throat, you make your way towards your bathroom to start your day, forcing yourself to ignore the invasive memory of sucking Taehyung off in the shower two days ago.

Finishing up, you carelessly waltz out to find your sleepy husband half-awake in bed, scrolling through his phone. Your gazes meet when he glances up—you dab your damp face with a towel.

“You’re up early.” He flatly notes, returning to his phone.

“I fell asleep early last night, genius.”

He sighs upon hearing your attitude, raking a hand through his beautiful head of hair. “Are you coming to work with me today? Or should I call Mr. Kang to drive you?”

Lightly scoffing, you toss your towel in your hamper. “I can drive myself. It’s the 21st century, Taehyung.”

He decides it’s too early for your snarky comebacks, waving you off. “Yeah, yeah.” He casts the duvet off himself, rubbing his sleep-laden eyes.

You haughtily step towards your walk-in closet, determined to ignore his presence for the rest of the day, before Taehyung suddenly stops by the bathroom. He scratches the back of his neck, awkwardly shuffling his feet—he seems to be contemplating something. “Um… Princess, listen.”

He’s still willingly calling you princess? He usually doesn’t when he’s pissed at you. That puts a small smile on your face, schooling it when you tip your chin in his direction. “What?”

“I did some thinking about… yesterday.” He begins with a wince, choosing his words carefully. “I realized I was insensitive to laugh about what happened, or suggest that you should laugh too. I should've acknowledged that you felt uncomfortable being seen intimately or naked like that, regardless of who saw us.” He admits. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to undermine your feelings.”

Surprised by his apology, you stare at him wide-eyed, speechless. Taehyung merely stands with puffed cheeks, incredibly displaced. He awkwardly blows out air once he discerns you won’t say anything. “Right, I’m gonna wash up.”

He begins stepping towards the bathroom until you stop him. “Taehyung, wait.”

He swivels around, his sweet, coffee brown eyes meeting yours.

“Th-thank you.” You swallow, awkward about this too. Taehyung has always been an aware, accountable man able to read between the lines, a trait of his you thanked the heavens for. He never apologizes in the midst of a fight, however. He always adored proving you wrong, currently leaving your jaw figuratively attached to the floor.

“No problem.” He nods, before disappearing into your shared bathroom.

You’re left extremely conflicted. On one hand, maybe you should end whatever childish war you both started; he’s already acknowledged his mistake and was genine about it. One the other, you’re curious as to how Taehyung would fare without your sex; would he be able to last like he says?

Curious, you decide on ruffling his feathers today, nibbling on a mischievous smile. You spin around to skip towards your walk-in closet, only cunningness in mind.

Your fingers coquettishly graze the ‘scandalous’ section of your wardrobe.

You knock against Taehyung’s office door before propping it open, peeking inside. Taehyung hasn’t noticed your presence yet, too absorbed in his work. You find him standing as he diligently reads papers, grazing his perfect, slender fingers across the sheets. He appears strikingly handsome, thin glasses adorning his face, his rolled up dress shirt sleeves deliciously showcasing his biceps.

“If you’re someone that isn’t my wife, please leave and speak to my secretary.” His caramel-smooth, though commanding voice sparks something inside you, swallowing it away. A smirk soon forms on your face, shutting the door.

“Thankfully it is your wife, Mr. Kim.”

He lifts his gaze to acknowledge you, though upon doing so, his eyes widen in shock. He observes you in your entirety, blinking multiple times before he finds your line of sight—his irises harden with seriousness. “What are you wearing?”

Tipping your chin, you fold your arms over your breasts, shifting your weight onto one leg. “What do you mean?”

Your condescending tone causes Taehyung’s eyes to narrow, scrutinizing you. “I asked; what the fuck are you wearing?”

Scoffing at his tone, you tilt your head, attitude laced in your comeback. “Maybe you should ask me nicely, Mr. Kim.”

Taehyung swallows, watching his Adam’s apple bob before he wets his lips. He lifts one of his gorgeous hands to fix his glasses, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. What are you wearing, Jagiya?” He voices much more politely, and you send him an accomplished smile.

“I’m just wearing one of my regular office outfits.”

“But why are you wearing one entirely in ruby red?” He challenges, watching his eyes intending to be reprimanding, but they have the slightest hint of lust. He’s not going to survive this one, at all.

“What’s the matter with me wearing an all-red outfit?” You mount a hand on your hip, keeping his eyes hostage.

Your husband scoffs. His digits clutch his mouth, tracing the outline of his luscious lips until he cradles his masculine, impeccably-carved chin. “You know what the matter is.”

Feeling playful, you decide to push his buttons. Your walk is alluring as you make your way towards Taehyung’s desk, your each step slow, purposeful. You challenge his fierce eyes with your tempting ones, inviting him into your trap. Reaching his desk, you confidently strut in front of him, allowing him to catch a view of your shapely curves in your form-fitting outfit.

All you were really wearing was a tight pencil skirt with a short peplum top. The neckline only cut low enough that the cleavage was tasteful. What had to be ruining Taehyung was the colour; he adores red on you, and can never keep his hands to himself whenever you wear it—not to mention when you pair it with a skirt so tight your ass looks biteable, and ruby-coloured lips to match.

You lean a hand on his desk as you peer up at him; you swear it was like you were facing the devil.

“Actually, I don’t know, Mr. Kim.” You play dumb, your innocent eyes and sweet tone causing Taehyung to flex his jaw, but he remains stoic, arms folded with a schooled face.

Taehyung tongues the inside of his cheek, examining you up and down. “Are those the red diamond earrings I gave you in Rome?”

Tilting your head, you step closer to him. “Yes.”

“You do know red diamonds cost a million dollars per carat, right?” Taehyung reminds you—you take another step closer.

“Yes.”

“And the earrings I gave you have 6 carats worth of red diamonds?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re wearing my $6 million earrings to work?” He cocks a brow, scrutinizing you. “Why in god’s name are you wearing them?”

Nibbling your velvety, red lip, you nonchalantly shrug, adopting his sense of unbotheredness. “No reason.”

Taehyung merely sighs; he knows you’re doing this to fuck with him. He stalks towards his office chair and plops down, tucking both his hands behind his head as he kicks his feet up on his desk, eyeing you with his sexy, dark eyes. “Well, is our business done here?” He condescendingly questions. “Or do you need to stand there and prove your point longer?”

Shocked by his audacity, you laugh through your scoff. You swat his feet off the desk, his legs collapsing to the floor as you promiscuously seat yourself where they were. You lean your hands back, crossing your legs to seductively present yourself—your husband angrily glares at you.

“Actually, our business isn’t done.” You snark. “I still need to prove you’re a sex-hungry beast, which shouldn’t take more than…” You purposefully peek at the watch on your wrist. “What? 3 minutes? Before you need to get your dick wet?”

Taehyung dips his head with a sigh, leaning his elbows on his manspread knees. “Are you really still on about that?”

“Yes, I am.” You bite back. “Especially after you decided to wage a war you knew you’d never win, and accuse me of being the loser.”

Taehyung shakes his head, bitterly chuckling. “You’re really fucking funny if you think I’m the one who started this; it was literally you, babe.”

“Awh, can Taehyungie not step up to the challenege?” You overly pout. “Is he afraid of being a sore loser?”

Taehyung massages his temple, puffing air through his lips. “My god, this woman of mine is impossible.”

Without warning, you suddenly advance towards him, hands shackling onto the armrests of his chair. He lets out a soft exhale when you bring your lips just before his, piercing his eyes with a carnal look of lust. “And you’re incredibly sexy, Mr. Kim.”

Taehyung shifts his hips in his seat, the column of his throat bobbing as he stares you down, but his eyes reveal his failing composure. “This has to be against the rules.”

Your hands slide over Taehyung’s delicious thighs, slowly stroking him. His lap twitches in response, subduing the sound he almost lets out.

“What rules?” You coo.

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut when you move an inch towards his crotch, laughing through his struggle. “This is unfair, baby. You’re evil.”

“Me? Evil? Never.” You purr with a saccharine sweet tone, letting your hands skim closer to his cock. Taehyung exhales harshly as he challenges you with his eyes, flaring with anger. But, you only draw closer, enough that your lips are separated by a mere hair’s length. “I’m just making sure you know who's going to win, loverboy.”

You quickly peck his lips, trailing a finger along the side of his jaw, your voice seductive as ever. “And by the way, I’m wearing your favourite red set underneath.”

Taehyung nearly chokes as you draw away from him, swaying your hips as you take your leave. Your husband storms behind his desk, hearing him rapidly rise from his chair with his comedic accusations. “You’re evil, you’re evil I tell you!”

Maniacally giggling, you continue your walk out, listening to your husband throw a fit. “How can you wear those lace garters knowing I can’t rip them off? You witch!”

You hide your innocent chuckle behind your hand, daring to turn and provide him with a small tease of what you’re wearing underneath. Once the said lace garters meet your husband’s gaze, his jaw drops—he’s even livelier than before.

“Wait until you’re home, Kim Y/N!” He valiantly shouts. “You’re not going to win!”

“Ah fuck,” you curse, nearly knocking into the wall. You lazily remove your shoes in the foyer, your system a bit wonky after some drinks with your co-workers tonight. You toss the contraptions aside, wearily checking your bag for your phone.

“Honey, I’m home!!” You call out, not certain when Taehyung arrived home. You’d decided to indulge in a night out to avoid coming home to him today; you knew you’d ruffled his feathers a little too much, and you were unsure how your husband would retaliate.

Hearing silence, you groan, contemplating that he’s either not home, or most likely asleep. You welcome that possibility, tuckered out yourself. Sluggishly stalking up the stairs, you paddle towards your bedroom door with a yawn, seriously awaiting some well-needed shut-eye.

Your senses are currently haywire, so you’re unable to hear or see much, which makes the next minutes of your life completely unforeseen. When you mindlessly open the door of your bedroom, your jaw drops to the center of the Earth, eyes nearly falling out of their sockets.

You find your husband openly masturbating in bed.

Now that you focus, the sound of slapping skin and laboured groans should’ve clued you into his salacious activities, but you’re clearly too dense. “Taehyung, what the fuck?”

Your voice causes Taehyung to open his eyes, landing on you as he breathes unevenly. Sweat glistened upon his honey-coloured skin, his pillowy lips hung open, chest rapidly inflating and deflating.

What surprises you the most is Taehyung doesn’t even appear the slightest bit embarrassed, no, your husband has the smuggest smirk plastered on his handsome face. He doesn’t stop his movements, either, rather slowly strokes his cock, almost as though he were teasing you, inviting you to join his raunchy shenanigans.

And fuck, did the alcohol in your system kill your defence mechanisms, pussy pulsing at the sight of his throbbing, hard, thick flesh in his palm.

“Welcome home, babe.” Your scheming husband smiles, continuing to beat his goddamn meat, completely unbothered by your presence—you feel like a fuse short-circuiting. “K-Kim Taehyung, I asked you a question!”

“What am I doing?” He condescendly repeats. “I’m doing what you should be doing.”

You huff when Taehyung dares letting out a deep, mellow groan, fucking into his fist faster, his stomach muscles contracting as he no doubt reaches his high. You wish you could tear your eyes away, but the sight of his cock makes your mouth water, your lady bits tingling.

How much you want to run over and spear yourself on his dick.

Snapping out of your trance, you stand your ground. “Taehyung, my loving, kind, dear husband, may you please put your cock away?”

“Why?”

Infuriated, you grind your teeth. “Because… Because this is unfair! You can’t just have your dick out like this!”

“Why not? You’re the same person who literally wore the sexiest outfit possible to work and made me want to rail you over my desk.”

Smacking your hand to your forehead, you attempt to calm down, searching for a solution—funny how he still hasn’t stopped masturbating, weakening your guard. “Taehyung, this is cruel. You can’t be touching yourself in front of me, there has to be rules in this war. Every war has rules!”

“Says the woman who literally flashed me her underwear and said ‘what rules?’.” Taehyung retorts, returning to his regular program. He suddenly squeezes the head of his meat that elicits a deep, masculine moan from him; the sound literally hardens your nipples, dampening your panties.

“Ugh! You’re the worst, the worst!” You shout, throwing your hands up in the air.

Taehyung dips his head back with a laugh, sending you the most shit-eating grin in the world. “All you have to do to end your suffering is come here and sit on this dick, baby. That’s all it takes.”

His words stir something hot inside you, biting down on your teeth to subdue your horniness—you’re quite literally seconds away from throwing away your pride and straddling him. But, you then realize it’s what he wants; your husband is incredibly clever at gaining his way, and you won’t let him win.

Never.

“Fuck you, if you wanna play dirty, then that’s how we’re playing.” You point a scolding finger at him, met by your husband’s amused expression, tonguing the inside of his cheek.

“We already play pretty dirty, babe.”

Wanting to throttle the irritatingly gorgeous man, you huff out with annoyance and flash him a middle finger before disappearing into your bathroom, slamming the door shut.

“You better not have your cock out by the time I’m out of here, asshole!”

You watch Taehyung get ready for the day with your arms folded over your naked breasts, legs kicked up on the bed with an irked expression. You’d washed up for the morning, but after Taehyung’s little stunt last night, you’re too pissed at him to continue your day, watching the infuriating man hum along to a useless tune as he knots his tie in the mirror.

He steals a glance at you through his reflection; you avert your eyes, incessantly wiggling your foot.

“Are you not coming to work, Jagiya?” He asks with a purposefully sweet tone.

Smacking your lips, you remove the clip from your hair, letting your strands loose and comfortably reclining in bed. “No.”

Humming in acknowledgement, Taehyung completes his tie. He tosses on his Louis Vuitton suit jacket next, adjusting the buttons of his sleeves. “Any particular reason for your absence, Mrs. Kim?”

You pop an eye open, shooting him a scrutinizing look. “My company‘s asshole CEO.”

Taehyung tongues the inside of his cheek, amusedly smirking. He reaches out for his laptop case, glimpsing at himself one last time in the mirror before he approaches you.

“Well, your asshole CEO’s off, then.” He jests, landing a warm palm on your shoulder to kiss your cheek. The domestic gesture makes your heart flutter, attempting to remain unphased when his soft lips press against your skin. “Eat a good breakfast and lunch before I’m home, pretty girl.” He reminds you as he smooths your hair.

When he pulls away to leave, your hand grapples onto his wrist, stopping him. “Wait.”

He faces you, eyebrows raised in anticipation. You purse your lips together and shuffle over to him, tugging him closer to you. You spring up onto your knees, now levelled with his chest—your hands curl around his tie.

You silently fix the loose knotting, tidying it up. He observes you with a schooled face, unevenly swallowing. Your smaller hands smooth over his impeccable suit once you’re finished, sliding towards his biceps to hold them.

You lift your eyes to meet Taehyung’s coffee brown irises, observing him. Taehyung peers back at you, caught in a silent, magnetic gaze with one another. You flit towards his wide, pillowy lips, tempted by their perfect shape, and you lean forward to softly kiss him.

Taehyung’s eyebrows climb at the gesture, confused when you pull away. You cock a brow in response, tone haughty. “What? I can’t kiss my husband before he goes to work?”

Suppressing a smile, Taehyung lightly scoffs, wrapping an arm around your naked torso and pressing his lips to yours. You feed into his kiss, an arm clinging to his neck as the other splays across his jaw. You kiss him harder, driven by Taehyung squishing your bare boobs against his tailored suit.

He lightly groans when your tongue teases the seam on his mouth; he’s quick to open up. His tongue slips inside you, licking exploratively as you unabashedly make out with him, Taehyung’s movements growing hotter by the second. Your husband suddenly breaks away, a smirk plastered on his face. “Feels like we haven’t kissed in ages.”

You laugh through your nose. “It’s only been two days, Taehyung.”

“Two days too long.”

Suddenly, Taehyung tosses aside his laptop case and cradles your figure in his arms, tackling you onto your bed. You yelp hitting the sheets, the sound muffled once Taehyung crashes his lips onto yours.

He manuevers his mouth languidly but with a sense of roughness—desire. His long fingers slide into a hand of yours as the other curls around your neck, cupping your jaw between his thumb and index finger. He holds your face in place, kissing you hard and deep as he effortlessly takes control of your body—you’ve never felt anything more powerful.

His hand around your throat slowly sinks past your collarbones, sliding down until your naked breast is within his palm. He squeezes you, slowly kneading the flesh as he simultaneously moves his body in the motion of thrusts—you whimper pathetically throughout the godly pleasure.

Taehyung lets out a deep, shaky groan when his hardening cock nudges your pussy folds, tightening the grasp around your breast. He pinches your nipple all of a sudden, moaning into his mouth.

You’re seconds from biting his supple lower lip until you both hear a rhythmic buzzing.

Taehyung pops off your mouth, cursing. “Fuck.”

He fishes for his phone in the pocket of his dress pants, glimpsing at the caller—he accepts the call with an eye roll.

“Hello? Yeah, I’m on my way.” He curtly informs, focusing on his conversation while you admire his slightly swollen, wide lips, and his stupidly handsome face. Even if you’re still pissed at him, it doesn’t make him any less stunning.

“Oh, we got the report this morning? Then yes, I’ll be holding a meeting first thing in the morning. Mhm. Yup, right before the conference.” Taehyung continues for about a minute or so before he ends the call amicably, returning to you.

“Alright, I have to go.” Taehyung proclaims with a sigh, tucking his phone away as he locates his laptop. Once he nabs it, he sends you a harsh look, lips scornfully pressed together. “And new rule: no kissing.” He tuts with a finger, crawling off your body and soon, your bed. “Only very quick pecks.”

You bitterly scoff, rising from the mattress. “Not my fault you can’t control yourself, loverboy.”

Taehyung playfully narrows his eyes at you as he fixes his suit. He approaches you to cradle your shoulder again, but instead kisses your forehead, long and affectionate. He draws away to gaze into your eyes, lifting your chin with a curl of his finger. “I’ll be going.”

He pecks your plushy petals before stepping away, playfully tapping your underboob. “Wear a shirt of mine if you get cold.”

You grumpily pout at him when he sends you a show-stopping grin—you can’t stand that he’s so perfect sometimes. You watch him disappear through the door, plopping down into your sheets with a frustrated huff.

“Ugh, look at him.”

You kiss your teeth as you lay flat on your stomach, legs flailing in the air while watching on your laptop. It’s the live stream of Taehyung’s official announcement regarding his new subsidiary for learning centers. You’d completely forgotten that was today, though gladly your presence wasn’t needed for it.

You dreamily sigh as you watch your husband confidently speak, pouting with your cheeks in your palms. Why did he have to be so good-looking? It’s a genuine question; you can imagine the amount of people currently fawning over him.

You, on the other hand, are semi-pissed. Not only did he have to look jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but being without his touch for two days now has left you squirming more than usual. Your makeout session didn’t help, either—you’d literally gushed buckets of cum by the time he left you laying on your bed.

Frustrated, you groan grievously before smacking your laptop shut—if you ogle at him any longer, you’ll go insane. Anytime you see Taehyung being the ever-so composed, intimidating, professional CEO at work, your pussy never keeps quiet.

Any time you watch him type away at his laptop or scribble across papers, your mind shifts towards those same hands shoving his digits inside you. Any time he licks, bites or touches his lips, all you consider is how he drags those same plushy petals along every part of your body, worshiping you.

The worst is seeing his concentrated, gorgeous face—if only people knew how many times you’ve seen that same handsome face wedged between your legs, lapping at your cunt.

You slap your hands over your flustered face once your hormones begin settling between your legs. The constant ache within your sex is pulsing unavoidably, biting your lip to manage it. It didn’t help that you were still in bed, smelling his intoxicating scent in the sheets.

You kick at them, feeling incredibly horny. His black Louis Vuitton shirt hugging your frame was exacerbating everything, constantly ruminating about how many times he’s fucked you in this shirt.

Now you’re even worse off, bunching up the damn fabric in your hands to find some relief, to channel this throbbing within your pussy elsewhere, but it’s no use. You snake a hand down towards your core, pushing past the band of your underwear. When your fingers caress your sex, you instantly gasp. “Shit, I’m so wet.”

The slick that oozes out of you is shocking; you swear you’ve never once leaked this much essence on your own. How is it possible that Taehyung makes you horny when he’s not even here? He’d have a field day knowing that, especially considering your little squabble at the moment.

Recalling the very thing, your gears start shifting, contemplating a delicious revenge plot. His behaviour yesterday was utterly cruel, stroking his thick length right in front of you knowing you’re unable to do a thing.

The second your fingers slightly move across your slick pussy folds, an idea pops into your head.

Scrambling off your bed, you patter over towards the end of the hall, finding the most entertaining part of your home; your sex room.

You giggle evilly, ready to place your plan into motion until you ram into a hurdle—Taehyung always locks the room. You curse, remembering that he proclaimed it’s to ensure you never venture in by yourself and either a) plan something sneaky behind his back, or b), use it to play with yourself.

Funny how your husband knows you so well; you’re going to violate both rules.

The universe shifts in your favour when you consider your options. You know Mrs. Choi and Seo own a copy of the key since they’re the ones who clean it; sometimes it amazes you how loyal the kind ladies are, they’ve never once judged a damn thing about your kinky sex life.

You kiss your teeth once you consider they’re currently out, so it’s no use. You contemplate where Taehyung could possibly hide his copy of the key. Surely he’s smart enough to personally keep it on him, though has an extra in case one of the housekeepers loses theirs. Pacing the second floor, you constantly rummage through your mind attempting to figure out exactly where he could’ve stashed the copy.

It’s only when your eyes land on your bedroom, do you finally have an ‘ah-hah’ moment.

Your fingers clasp one of the brand new photos Taehyung framed in your bedroom; he’d enlarged your wedding photo to hang above your granite fireplace downstairs, replacing the frame he kept on his night table with a photo of you and him in New Zealand.

You remember him explaining to you why he chose the distinct photo; he described your emotional New Zealand trip as a key moment he realized he’d love you for an eternity. At the time, the sentiment melted your heart considering the pressing situation then, desiring to have a closer look at the photo, but Taehyung had snatched the frame from your grasp, scolding you.

He oddly claimed he didn’t want you to break the frame, and ordered you to never touch it. You’d simply let it go then, but something constantly nagged at you about his behaviour.

Following your hunch, you grasp the frame to carefully open it. Once you lift the back, the smile that graces your face is utterly conniving—he hid the key behind your photo.

It made perfect sense considering it’s out-of-the-box genius, just like your husband, but also someplace Taehyung could easily access, and one he’d also remember.

Shuffling down the hall, you unlock the sex room to scour inside it. You faintly remembered the exact drawer Taehyung kept all the vibrators, letting your fingers brush over various sizes, shapes, and colours of the toys.

Settling on a lilac wand, you snag it with eagerness, quickly shutting the drawer and door before returning to your bedroom.

Leaping onto your bed, you snatch your phone off your night table, clicking on your conversation with Taehyung. You find his messages from two days ago, telling you to visit his office; if only he knew it would lead him to his downfall today.

[11:07 am]: taehyung

Usually, Taehyung never took more than a few minutes to respond to you. Only if he’s urgently tending to something would he inform you he’s busy, though you know his conference ended 10 minutes ago; he’s most likely on his phone, anyway.

You receive a read receipt a minute later, though Taehyung doesn’t text anything. You quirk a brow, tapping over your keyboard again.

[11:09 am]: taehyung

[11:09 am]: hello

Again, the read receipts are there, though his messages remain non-existent. You grow annoyed, wondering if he’s possibly ignoring you—but even if he is, why would he leave the messages open to read?

[11:10 am]: hello husband

[11:10 am]: husbiebun

[11:11 am]: most handsome man in the world

[11:11 am]: man that rocks my world

[11:12 am]: man that owns my pussy

[11:14 am]: taehyung

[11:14 am]: baby

[11:14 am]: answer me

[11:15 am]: i’m going to keep texting you until you respond to me

[11:15 am]: Taehyung

[11:15 am]: Mr. Kim

[11:15 am]: tAEHYUNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Husbiebun <3: JESUS CHRIST THIS WOMAN

Husbiebun <3: i was going to message you but had to speak to an executive, I’m back in my office now

Husbiebun <3: what did you need??

Feeling slightly guilty, you shove it away, reclining against your headboard as you toy with your underwear—you feel extremely compelled to tear it off.

[11:15 am]: i’m sorry, i just wanted to talk to you

Husbiebun <3: it’s okay, what did you want to talk about?

Husbiebun <3: are you not feeling well?

Annoyingly endeared by him, you hide your flustered face behind a facade of seriousness.

[11:15 am]: i wanted to facetime, are you free right now?

Husbiebun <3: facetime? sure, i’m not exactly free but i can keep you on while i work

Husbiebun <3: i’ll call you in two minutes, love

Feeling giddy inside, you physically force yourself to school your face—how could he still make you feel butterflies in your stomach when you’re more than a year into your relationship?

You’re still that whipped for him, huh?

Suddenly, Taehyung’s contact name with the precious photo you took of him in front of the Eiffel Tower lights up your screen, swiping to accept.

The call connects, revealing Taehyung in his Gucci glasses, sitting behind his desk as he twiddles with a pen. He waves at you with a kind smile—his gorgeous face brings you instant ease.

“Hey, Princess.”

“Hi, Taehyung.”

He masterfully twirls the pen in his hand as he refocuses on the sheets before him. You can’t exactly see his work—his phone is propped on his desk, though you can tell by the hot furrow in his brow he’s working hard.

How incredibly sexy.

“How’s your day been?” He affectionately queries, busy studying lines.

“Good, I’ve been chilling in our room with my drawing tablet.”

You see him crack a fond smile. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Good.” He praises, nibbling his luscious bottom lip. “What did you eat?”

You tap your chin attempting to remember. “I had avocado toast and a mango-pineapple fruit bowl.” You recall, soon having an ‘ah-hah’ moment. “Oh, and Mrs. Choi made me eat grapefruit and oranges this morning; I wonder why.”

“Ah, that’s good.” Taehyung brightens up, swiping his slender fingers over his laptop’s mouse pad, then referring to his sheets. “I asked Mrs. Choi and Seo to start serving you more citrus fruits; vitamin-C is good for getting pregnant.”

Your cheeks instantly flush, impressed by his innate care and initiative—he’s so charming. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Mm,” the deep hum of his baritone voice is hypnotizing, nearly melting your insides. “Always eat your fruits, Princess; good girls eat their fruits.”

You fall silent secretly doting on him—sometimes he turns you into a complete pile of mush. Your bashful smile never wipes off your face, unable to contain the fluttering of your heart. By the time Taehyung glimpses at you through the camera, he notices, fondly chuckling. “What did you want to talk about, pretty girl?”

You shyly pout watching him write, toying with the end of your shirt. “Honestly? Nothing much, I just watched your conference and thought about how…” you trail, speaking through protruded lips.

“Hmm?” He mellifluously hums. “What did you think about?”

You twiddle your fingers, stealing glances at his breath-taking side-profile; his beauty was truly carved by the gods. “I thought that you looked really handsome.”

Taehyung’s lips contort with a faint smile, inscribing his impeccable signature on a sheet. “You wanted to call me to tell me I looked handsome?”

“Well, that; and I also considered how many other people probably thought the same thing, and I wanted you away from ogling eyes.” You haughtily explain, crossing your arms.

Taehyung warmly chuckles; you adore the smile that graces his lips. “You’re a certified cutie, you know that?”

Sheepish, you giggle like a schoolgirl, hiding a stupid grin. Taehyung glimpses in your direction at the sound, flipping a page. “I see you decided to wear clothes.”

Flashing a look at your shirt, you narrow your eyes. “Why? You don’t like when I’m naked?”

“I love when you’re naked,” he replies. “I just know you get cold.”

You nearly scoff—Taehyung is sincerely too perfect sometimes. How can he make you feel horny, giddy, and absolutely adored within a matter of mere minutes? All while he’s not even here? It’s as though your anger towards him was dissipating, pissing you off.

Reminded of your original revenge scheme, you lay flat on your stomach, slowly pressing your body into the satin sheets. Kicking your legs up, you carelessly swing them while resting your cheek in your palm, closely watching him through the camera. “What would you have done if I wasn’t wearing clothes…” You voice seductively, biting your lip as you contemplate your next word. “Daddy?”

Taehyung instantly cocks a brow as he pauses. “What did you just say?”

“I just asked what my punishment would be for not wearing clothes right now, daddy.”

Taehyung slowly smacks his lips, lightly laughing before he returns to his work. “I wouldn’t have done anything, honestly.”

“Really?” You voice lilts with a question mark. “Nothing ruffles your feathers about me being home half-naked without you? What if a board member of yours sees you FaceTiming your wife with her boobs out?”

Taehyung snorts, tapping his pen on his paper. “First of all, I only FaceTime or video call you in my office, and nobody comes in here without a scheduled appointment; except you.” He matter-of-factly states. “Second, it’s completely fine if your boobs are out at home; I see them all the time. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m good.”

You ironically pout hearing his answer, heart sinking in your chest. “So you don’t get turned on seeing my boobs anymore?”

Taehyung’s eyes instantly widen, panicking as he turns towards the screen. “No, no, Princess. I love your boobs, I just know you like being braless at home so they’re normal to me, and I wouldn’t punish you for it.”

Hmphing, you puff your cheeks. “Well in that case…” Your hands grip the hem of your shirt, stripping it off. Taehyung steals a glimpse at you, completely normal as he views your braless frame—it’s when you hook onto your panties does he say something.

“Princess, what are you doing?”

“What? You don’t mind if I’m naked at home, don’t you?”

He visibly swallows, clearing his throat. “Aren’t Mrs. Choi and Seo home?”

“They’re grocery-shopping, and they’re women, anyway.”

Taehyung slowly wets his lips, adjusting his glasses on his face. “Be my guest, then.”

Smiling proudly, you slowly, seductively strip off your underwear, entertained by Taehyung glancing towards his screen—he’s attempting to act unbothered, but his bobbing Adam’s Apple gives him away.

You sling your underwear elsewhere, watching Taehyung as he returns to work. Again, you feel yourself gush watching him in his element, driven by your now naked frame. Your hand curls around the purple wand you snatched earlier behind your phone, devising your set-up.

“So… I guess my dommy husband has let up on his punishments then, huh?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Usually you would've punished me for being naked without you, Mr. Kim.”

Taehyung tongues the inside of his cheek, diligently scanning his work. “As long as you’re not touching yourself, I’m okay with it.” He explains. “My wife can be naked in her own house.”

Your lips curve similarly to the Cheshire Cat, mind brewing with deception. “And what if I was touching myself?”

Taehyung freezes when he flips a page. “Huh?”

“What if I was touching myself, Mr. Kim?”

Cocking a brow at your audacity, Taehyung’s tone is authoritative. “Are we not currently in a war abstaining from sex? Think carefully about what you’re saying, Y/N.”

His harsher timbre makes your body shudder with pleasure, fuelling your neediness. “Well, technically, this isn’t sex, it’s masturbating.” You correct him, finally revealing the vibrator. “And I think I’m gonna do it now.”

Clicking on the toy, Taehyung’s eyes visibly widen, unable to fathom what he sees. “Y/N, where the fuck did you get that? How did you find my key?!”

“I know my dear husband too well.” You snark, biting your lips as you press the vibrating toy to your collarbone—your nipples automatically harden.

Taehyung’s eyes harden watching you, speaking seriously into his screen. “Y/N, you know touching yourself is against one of my rules, stop right the hell now.”

“Awh, does Taehyungie think I’ll actually listen to him?” You chide, slipping the vibrator towards the top of your breast. You instantly hiss, carnal eyes meeting his angry ones. “Hilarious.”

“You goddamn—“ Taehyung swipes a troubled hand over his face, huffing out. “Listen, baby, if this is about yesterday, I’m sorry, okay? Maybe I played too dirty, but I sincerely apologize. You can stop now, alright?”

You scoff, ignoring him and letting your vibrator touch your nipple—you gasp, throwing your head back against the headboard. Taehyung kisses his teeth, his voice more urgent. “Princess, stop this instant—you know my rules about toys and touching yourself. I don’t tolerate it.”

Neglecting his warning, you slide the vibrator lower, moaning as the buzzing sinks through your skin, stirring delicious arousal inside you. Taehyung kisses his teeth when he listens to your erotic sigh.

“Jagiya, listen to me; let’s put the vibrator away and talk, yeah?” Taehyung attempts to negotiate, his tone much sweeter. “Isn’t this whole argument of ours childish in the first place? We’re both grown adults trying to become parents; let’s handle this in a civilized manner, alright?”

Sending him the most deadpan expression ever, you purposefully descend the vibrator towards your slit. Soon, the digits of your unoccupied hand slip through your folds, feeling your dripping cum. You lightly gasp, swishing around your essence with fascination. “I hope you know I’m very wet right now, Taehyung. All because I watched you be my sexy CEO husband—I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You gently moan once you slide through your cunt towards your clit, lightly brushing the pulsing bud. Your husband scoffs on the other end when you shudder, exasperated. “Y/N, listen to me! I swear if you touch yourself right now, I’ll go insane, and your punishment will reflect that.”

“Good, that’s exactly what I want.”

And without further ado, you press the vibrstor to your throbbing clit, erupting a sensual sigh from you. Your body jerks alive, head leaning back into your pillow—Taehyung instantly shouts through your screen.

“Y/N, you brat!”

You listen to him constantly repeat that you’re a stubborn, disobedient bad girl, and the punishment he’ll deliver for your behaviour will destroy you, but you evilly laugh as a response, sweetening your tone. “I’ll be pausing my video now, by the way, so all you’ll be able to hear is my moans as I touch myself, but you can’t see or do anything about it, Mr. Kim.”

You watch his eyes glower with anger, fed up with your audacity. “Kim Y/N, I swear if you—” And Taehyung disappears when you pause your video, finally able to unabashedly play with yourself. With neither of your housekeepers home as well, you lay back, indulging in rubbing the vibrating wand against your pussy.

The moans you let out are pornographic, your skin set alight by the delicious buzzing. It prompts cum to ooze out of you like clockwork, your clit gloriously stimulated as you enjoy the absolute freedom, relishing in yours otherworldly pleasure.

You’re pulled out of your piece of paradise when you hear Taehyung’s menacing voice, evidently done for. “Y/N, I swear to God, if you moan one more time—”

“Ngh,” you sigh, rutting your eager hips against the lilac toy.

“Oh my fucking—Y/N!”

“Fuck,” you let out a high-pitched cry, melting when the buzzing wand sends shockwaves of arousal through you. You dip it lower, teasing your fluttering hole—you instantly spasm with need, desiring something within the walls of your cave. “Ah! Oh my god…”

“Y/N,” Taehyung sounds painfully desparate, practically begging you. “You have to stop, baby, I can’t listen to you moan like that but not see you.”

“Fuck, Taehyung.” You pant, rubbing the wand against your fiery hot cunt. “I get why… you don’t let me use toys.” You swallow harshly, ready to plunge the thick, vibrating toy inside you. “I need this inside me, ugh.”

“No fucking way.” Taehyung vehemently denies. “Don’t you dare put it inside you, do not.”

“But it feels so good, baby.” You sigh, head spinning with delirium. You’ve never been able to indulge in the use of a vibrator, now completely enjoying the free reign you own. Playing with yourself is immensely pleasuring, your eyes hooding over, pussy leaking all over your once impeccable bed sheets. “I’m so wet, Taehyung, fuck.”

“You’re the brattiest little thing I know,” Taehyung grits, before he deeply sighs, quite literally beseeching. “You can’t do this to me, Jagiya. Let me come home, I swear I’ll pleasure you in any way, just wait until I’m home.”

“No, you can’t… get away with yesterday.” You breathe harshly, feeding off the delicious vibrating. You click the toy to increase its speed, crying out when the stronger vibrations spasm through you. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

“Y/N, you did not just increase the speed of that vibrator!”

Ignoring him, your mind explodes with colours, floating in paradise as the buzzing wand delivers waves of pleasure. “Ngh, Taehyung, oh my fucking god!”

“That’s it, that’s it!” Your husband hollers. “I’m coming home, I’m coming home this instant!” You listen to Taehyung rummage around on his side, but you’re far too fucked out to even sense his anger.

“Shit… shit, shit, shit.” You gasp, grinding your teeth to manage the fluttery sensation within your gut. You can feel something deliciously simmering, ready to release. “Fuck, I’m getting close, oh shit, I’m close!”

You listen to Taehyung order someone on his end, speaking harshly into the receiver. “I swear I won’t forgive you for this, Y/N, less than ten minutes and I’ll be home, just wait.”

“Awh, I’m so scared–ah!” You moan through your taunt, sighing out with pleasure.

“Baby, stop moaning, oh my fucking God stop moaning.” Taehyung sounds as though he’s losing his sanity, evidently clenching his jaw. “I’m driving and my phone’s fucking connected to my car, stop moaning!”

“Ngh!” You moan louder, half taunting, half because you’re constantly teasing your spasming hole.

“Fuck me, I can hear you everywhere, stop moaning!”

“God, this feels amazing,” you deliriously sigh, erotic noises bouncing off the walls of your room. “Fuck you… Taehyung… for not letting me use vibrators.”

“This is why, you slut.” Taehyung hisses, his rough tone lighting your squirming body on fire. “You’re the epitome of a disobedient brat; you know exactly what kills me and use it against me!”

“What? Being able to hear me, but not see me? Or the opposite? You’re such a simple man, Kim Taehyung, so–oh my god.” You erupt with a heady moan when you plunge the tip of the wand inside your pussy hole, unable to contain yourself.

“For fuck’s sake, you’re torturing me, Princess. Either stop or mute yourself, you’re killing me!”

“You can just… hang up–fuck!”

“It’ll kill me even more knowing you could orgasm without me,” he reasons. “Five minutes and I’ll be home, five fucking minutes, dammit!”

“You can just wave the white flag, Tae.” You coo, strangling fucked out groans. “All you need to do… is come home and put your dick inside me, baby, it’s that simple.” You chide him just as he did yesterday, indulging in your sweet revenge.

“You know I can’t do that!” He shouts.

“Can’t? Or won’t–ugh.”

“You’re so–! This is cruel, Y/N, you’re completely violating the rules, this is a crime!”

“Rules? I don’t remember those–oh god.”

“I told you to stop moaning!” He angrily directs. “You need to shut your pretty mouth before I do it myself.”

“Awh, is Mr. Kim gonna punish me? What if I can’t stop—ngh!”

“Y/N, shut up!”

“Come home and fuck me, Mr. Kim, fuck me like the whore I am, fuck me like your needy little sub.” You purposefully coo, melding it with your graphic moans.

“You witch, you’re a witch!” He cries out, sounding as though he’s hanging by his last thread. “What happened to my good girl, huh? When did she get so bad?”

You smirk, lacing your timbre with seduction. “Your good girl’s gone, Mr. Kim,” you purr. “You need to come home and fuck her into her place.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Taehyung howls, his voice utterly fed up. “You’re done, you’re done!”

“What?” You retort, swept up in the intense moment. “Didn’t want me to discover vibrators because they’re better than your dick?”

Now that is what ticks Taehyung off, his voice roaring through the phone. “Oh you little—you’re fucking in for it!”

All you hear is the FaceTime call cut out, too distracted by your pleasure to pay any real attention. Your orgasm bubbles— swirls around inside you as your toes curl, your eyes roll back and your body operates on sheer pleasure alone.

The vibrations ripple throughout your sex, curious as to how the wand would feel inside you. You sheath it inside without a care, exploding with a mewl when the spasming toy greets your eager walls. It feels glorious, shuddering with pleasure as you indulge in the gracious vibrations.

You’re reaching your limit, so sucked up into your own world you crazily speed up the vibrator, needing it to beat inside your pulsing walls until you unravel like a wind up toy. The vibrations ceaselessly ripple through you now, the speed so delicious your hands automatically latch into the headboard behind you. You hang on for dear life as a powerful orgasm sneaks up on you, building, building, and building, your moans unstoppable, your pussy walls throbbing, your legs shaking, body begging for your much-needed release.

And just when your cries reach a crescendo, your bedroom door suddenly swings open, revealing your winded, cross husband. “Y/N-!”

He never finishes his sentence, because the most powerful, earth-shattering orgasm erupts within you, your body jerking off the bed as you convulse. Every muscle in your body tenses with immeasurable pleasure, falling into your sheets, skin slickened with sweat, utterly spent of all your energy.

You pant wildly as you come down your high, barely able to register Taehyung’s glowering eyes and his rageful, reprimanding voice. “You did not just—I can’t believe you!”

Feeling the weight of your body sink into the mattress, your half-lidded eyes are the only thing able to move, sliding over to an angry Taehyung. “You’re literally evil, a goddamn witch!” He shouts, throwing his arms up in the air. “I swear I’ll only tolerate this shit in our home, you better not pull this revenge crap when we’re in public!”

You have nothing to counter him, breaking into a fucked-out grin as you send him a thumbs up, elated that you’d successfully gotten back at him. “This is… for yesterday… asshole.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.” Tahyung presses, pushing his jacket backwards to perch his hands on his hips. “You know we have Hoseok’s dinner this Friday; I swear if you don’t behave by then, I’m going to retaliate far worse than you.”

You soak in his threat paired with an accusing finger, though it only inflates your ego. His challenge ignites something inside you, gaining enough strength to bite back. “Scared I’m going to win, loverboy?”

Taehyung scoffs. “You’re not winning, you damn brat.”

“We’ll see about that.” You retort, staring down Taehyung with scrutinizing eyes as he shoots back a fiery look. He eventually has enough, storming out of your bedroom as a string of complaints leave his mouth.

You plop back into the sheets, floating on the cloud nine by the time sleep threatens to wash over your blissed-out, exhausted body.

The next three days of your life consisted of sheer mayhem.

Taehyung wasn’t kidding when he proclaimed the level of his retaliation. Peace has been a fragile concept in your household ever since, having transformed into a makeshift battlefield where you and your husband snag every opportunity to gain your revenge on each other.

Tuesday morning when you’d hopped in the shower, Taehyung slipped inside in the middle of your shampooing. You cocked a questioning brow as you faced him—he shot back an unbothered shrug.

“What? I can’t shower in my own house?”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed as you returned to lathering up your hair, allowing him to do whatever he must. You both washed up quite normally, pretty distanced from one another until Taehyung began purposefully invading your space.

He constantly reached over you for his shampoo, body wash, even your loofah with feigned innocence, deliberately brushing up against your naked body each time. Eventually, his hands naturally began roaming your wet skin, and here came your perpetual doom.

The sensation of his touch felt intensifying, biting your lip to manage your arousal when he skimmed your sensitive spots. When his pillowy lips found their way to your neck, you melted into his strong chest, relishing in the shower water streaming down your entangled figures.

His fingers traversed your body sensually, stroking you with such purposeful seduction, you nearly moaned. It wasn’t until his flesh caressed your backside did you recognize his sneaky scheme. You swatted him away with a scoff, sneering at him and his cunningness—your husband only flashed you a shit-eating smirk.

That following day, you decided to be Satan's spawn. You twirled your pen as you eyed your gorgeous husband lead this morning’s meeting, watching him effortlessly carry himself with grace and professionalism—you ignored the arousal he stirred inside you.

Once the meeting finished, you purposefully stalled on collecting your papers, watching Taehyung bid a farewell to everyone as they exited. Once your unsuspecting husband rose from his seat to vacate the area, you ambushed him, blocking him from opening the door.

His eyes widened with surprised, though hardened into scrutinizing slits once he figured out your game. You argued for all of five minutes before you walked the delicious man back to his seat, shoving him into his chair. You slid a leg over his lap, seductively toying with his Tom Ford tie.

He watched you do so, his jaw flexing as he tongued the inside of his cheek. “Having fun, Princess?” He condescended. “You can play with me all you want; we all know at the end of day I’m your boss, and the CEO your pussy.”

Bitterly laughing, you harshly pulled him towards your face with his tie, eyeing him down. You let a finger glide over his perfect cupid’s bow and down the column of his throat, brushing his lips with your own. “And at the end of the day, we all know you’re an absolute simp for me, so who really owns who?”

Taehyung remained adamant you’ll break first, challenging you back, though once you leaned over and whispered something scandalous in his ear, he erupted into angry flames, simmering with betrayal. You proudly strutted out the meeting room, an accomplished smile plastering across your face.

Who knew going commando could get your husband’s panties in a twist? Men are sincerely so simple.

But, come the next day, Taehyung decided he’s not fucking around anymore.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when your office door unexpectedly shut, flitting up to find your Adonis-like husband leaning against it, dressed in an incredibly dapper, three-piece navy blue suit. Taehyung tilted his head, piercing your soul with his playful irises, hands shoved into his pockets.

You quirked a suspicious brow, questioning him of his arrival. “What the fuck do you want, loverboy?”

He raised his brows at your tone. “I don’t think that’s how you address your boss, Mrs. Kim.”

“My bad,” you retorted. “What the fuck do you want, Mr. Kim?”

Tonguing the inside of his cheek, a smug grin teases Taehyung’s lips at your use of an honorific, his index finger sliding across his bottom lip. “I’m here to speak to you as Mrs. Kim, a talented architect. I wanted to discuss something very important.”

Clearing your throat, you unwillingly welcomed him to sit. “Be my guest then, sir.”

Taehyung twitched at your use of ‘sir’, suppressing a cough. He unbuttoned his debonair suit as he seated himself across from you. “Thank you, Mrs. Kim. I’ll cut right to the chase, you must be a busy woman.”

You appreciatively smiled at his politeness.

“Essentially, what I wanted to discuss is quite personal, though I wanted your opinion as an architect regarding the matter.” He began; you followed his example of professionalism.

“Of course, what’s the matter, Mr. Kim?”

“Well, as you know, I’m married.” He proudly established, toying with his wedding band. “To this absolutely gorgeous, stellar woman. Love of my life, really, wouldn’t have it any other way.” He casually proclaimed—you attempted to hide your flushed cheeks as he spoke.

“I see; how lucky you are?”

“Very lucky indeed.” He gracefully smiles. “However, she has this horrible habit of being an insufferable brat and disobeying me—so I’ve been devising many ways to punish her.”

Gulping, you nearly choke on your spit, trying to follow whatever act he’s performing. “Pardon me?”

“Yes, we have a Dom/sub relationship and I’ve been considering ways I can punish her for her attitude.” Taehyung nonchalantly admits. “I was thinking about installing some new things in our sex room to ensure she obeys me.”

Coughing, you can barely look the man seriously in the eye—he’s surely fucking with you, but his Oscar-worthy perfomance had you following his every step. “W-wow, she sounds like a handful.” You grimace, scrunching your nose—who knew you’d be referring to yourself in third-person today? “Though isn’t this a bit too personal, Mr. Kim? It may be unprofessional to discuss something of this matter with one of your employees.”

From across your desk, Taehyung gave you a look darker than hell itself, shattering all your confidence. He had single-handedly submitted you with his intimidating eyes, soon rising from his seat. He rounded your desk, settling behind your chair, gulping when you felt his domineering aura permeate your back.

He leaned over, placing his hands either side of you against your desk to trap you, his lips dangerously close to your ear—he brushed your helix with a hot, deep whisper. “Are you suggesting I don’t know how to be professional at my own company, Mrs. Kim?”

The sharpest surge of arousal spiked through your cunt, shuddering when his heady Invictus cologne flooded your nostrils. His aftershave was killing you; did he just have to fucking shave this morning?

Weting your lips, you swallowed harshly, shaking in your heels. “I wouldn’t do such a thing, Mr. Kim.”

“Mm,” he hums. “That’s what I thought.” His caramel-smooth, baritone voice lights your pussy on fire, squirming when he speaks again. “Now, I still need your professional opinion, Mrs. Kim.”

“Y-Yes.” Your palms begin sweating, tightly clutching them together to resist shoving your tongue down Taehyung’s throat—how could he intimidate you and turn you on in the same breath? He’s a powerful, powerful man. “What would you like to ask?”

“I’d like to ask about the architectural science and safety measures of installing something in my sex room.” His unbothered, breezy tone ticks you off, yet arouses you the same; how could he ask something so blatantly scandalous? This man was truly never one to fuck with, especially when he was serious. “It’s for my wife.”

Holding your breath, you clear your clogged throat. “What-what would you need to know?”

Embodying the devil himself, Taehyung’s voice dropped an octave, voice deeper than the depths of hell. “I wanted to know the best way I could suspend her from the ceiling.”

Your eyes widened, face burning so hot your cheeks could’ve melted. You shoveed your hands between your thighs, attempting to manage the wave of cum he gushed out of you. You nearly scream when Taehyung curls your hair behind the ear his lips brushed, his sweet, heated breaths lighting your skin on fire.

“Tell me, Mrs. Kim.”

You clutch the fabric of your skirt for dear life, pressing your thighs together. Your breathing was uneven, hitching as Taehyung’s intoxicating presence made your heart roar inside your chest. Your raging hormones screamed at you to simply jump the tempting man—jump him and bounce all over his perfect dick until you release a year’s worth of orgasms, let your sweaty bodies rut against each other until he spills his hot seed inside you.

But once your pride takes over the conversation, you grow angry, commending him for his clever attack, but never surrendering. You turn towards him with glowering eyes, batting his hand off you. “How’s about I tell you to fuck off, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung heartily laughs, entertained by you. “Why, Mrs. Kim? I was simply asking a question, how dare you speak to your superior with that tone?”

“Perhaps you should ask your gorgeous, talented, wonderful wife.” You snark. “She doesn’t even sound like the problem, this all seems like a you-problem.”

Taehyung leans back to his full height as he rounds your desk, wearing a confident, shit-eating smirk. “We’ll see if it’s a me-problem when she’s the one hanging from my ceiling.” He bites back, leaning his hands on your desk. “Absolutely naked, ready for my taking.”

His sinful stare grips your very soul. You inhale sharply when you feel his dominant, alpha male energy permeate you, pussy aching to be full of him. When he shot one last bounce of his brows, his suave walk out of your office lit you up like a firecracker, nearly throwing your pen at him.

The constant battle for a winner continued into Thursday, wildly scandalous shenanigans headlining your useless war.

Sending each other endless thirst traps on snapchat, cheeky nudes, erotic voice notes, teasing touches, sudden naked appearances in close vicinity to each other—absolutely nothing was left off the table.

Taehyung even purposefully brought his work out equipment home to exercise in front of you, coaxing essence out of like sap from a tree—you nearly ripped his shorts down to gobble up his cock once you spotted the glistening sweat on his lean muscles, heard his deep, masculine grunts as he lifted, watched him heavily breathe between each set.

You’d bought the skimpiest lingerie set possible to raid one of his conferences at home. He was seated on your spacious love seat in the entertainment area, eloquently speaking about some transactions with his financial team. He sounded incredibly sexy, even looked it, too—sleeves rolled up, top of his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his delicious chest.

You adored the rageful look in his eyes once you presented yourself, completely unbothered. You made room on his lap as you carelessly sat yourself on his crotch—it was your throne, anyway. He shot you an irritated expression as you courageously tipped your chin, clicking Netflix on your gigantic TV.

You casted your bare legs over the leather armrest, cozying up your ass over his clothed dick. Taehyung twitched when he felt your pussy—your lace panties were unfairly non-existent.

He cleared his throat as he continued listening to the others in his meeting, attempting to ignore your nearly naked body casually sitting on him. He snuck glances at your cleavage, two round globes supported by a push-up bra, though attempted to (unsuccessfully) ignore it. His arms caged around you once he began working on his laptop, effortlessly typing away.

You leaned your head against Taehyung’s warm chest, snuggling into him like a puzzle piece.

Your revenge plan began when you finally arrived at the perfect scene to start it all, considering the movie you chose, of all films.

Fifty Shades of Grey.

You let the sounds of Christian and Anatasia having sex fill the room, even putting up the volume just to hear them better. Taehyung flashed his annoyed eyes at the screen, rolling them when he sees you upping the volume. He remained unbothered until you maneuvered your ass over his crotch for comfort—you rubbed his subtly erect member, feeling it twitch.

He subdued a groan when you did it again, promiscuously adjusting your position. Your husband remained adamant on ignoring you, containing himself. But when you purposefully gyrated your hips over him, Taehyung instantly grappled you, digging his fingers into your skin.

“Y/N, I will literally fuck you against our TV.” He hissed, his irises furiously glowing with warning. “Sit still and watch your movie, or the TV won’t be the only thing I break.”

You swallowed harshly hearing the sternness in his timbre—he was serious about possibly fucking you so hard he breaks your back. You decided to oblige, settling against his chest again to silently watch your movie—you actually liked the Fifty Shades franchise, anyway.

Things remained a little tense after that, but not malicious. Dinner later that day was lukewarm, both of you eating in silence, until somehow, the tension boiled over.

Taehyung had sent Mrs. Choi and Seo home earlier that day, leaving you and him to clean up. Washing dishes should’ve been perfectly normal, if it weren’t for the many times you both constantly brushed each other, already vibrating with so much sexual tension, Taehyung threw his drying towel away to take your lips.

He had pressed you into the kitchen counter, hoisting you onto the surface as he ground his hips into your barely dressed pussy, robe flung open. Your perky breasts rubbed against his shirt—you were still wearing your lingerie set, and clearly he’d had enough. His hands constantly roamed your body, brushing your bare thighs up and down, up and down until his fingers instinctively slid towards you center, swiping through your damp panties.

You gasped into his mouth, eliciting something carnal to ignite his eyes. Before you knew it, a full-on, heated makeout session ensued.

Clearly the 5 days you’d gone without each other had you craving the other in irrevocable ways. Taehyung’s pants were hot against your lips, biting, sucking, licking them as though he were starved, as though the only meal he craved was you.

You hissed when he pressed the pads of his fingers into you, incredibly sensitive down there. Your hands naturally aimed for his belt, your hips shamelessly riding his masterful fingers. It wasn’t until you ripped open his pants did reality strike you both like lightning—you pulled away from each other instantly.

Taehyung accused you of attempting to seduce him, while you spat back that he’s the one who started it. The argument lasted long enough that you both decided to sleep in different rooms—sharing a bed would not only heighten your anger, but the craving to jump each other’s bones.

Now, Friday had arrived, also known as operation Hoseok’s dinner party, and also day 6 without sex.

“Hob-ah, how’s your recent club been doing? Wasn’t there an issue with one of the bouncers?”

“Jimin, c’mon, just choose a goddamn gift for your fiance’s birthday already.”

“Jungkook, stop playing with your dick and fess up—you’re clearly into your wife.”

The ridiculous chatter is endless as you and Taehyung’s friends gather at an exclusive restaurant for a night out, Namjoon and Seokjin accompanied by their wives, while the rest indulge in friendly conversation.

Hoseok was celebrating the stellar news about the progress with his new beau; they’d started officially dating.

Everyone currently bugged the poor girl with nitpicky questions, throwing around harmless jokes and insults at an embarrassed, though elated Hoseok. Taehyung indulge in here and there, though predominantly remained focused on his phone; it seemed he was receiving important emails tonight.

Your husband examined his screen carefully as he reclined in the restaurant’s booth, which should’ve been okay, if it weren’t for the firm hand he kept clasped on your thigh. It was a habit of his: Taehyung claimed he always needed to be touching your scrumptious thighs.

Currently, he danced the tips of fingers across your bare skin. It was something harmless and ingrained in him, your husband drawing useless circles and patterns as he scrutinized the lines of a dense email. You ground your teeth trying to manage the constant touch of his hand; you were a pathetic whore for Taehyung’s gorgeous, veiny, gigantic hands caressing you, and you were near exploding.

His rings looked impeccable, paired with the Patek Phillipe watch you gifted him for Christmas hugging his wrist, his wedding band glimmering under the restaurant’s ambient yellow lights.

You squirm your toes trying to contain yourself. His fingertips are stroking the inside of your thigh, tirelessly teasing you with lewd ideas. Once he travels a mere inch towards your core, you’ve had enough, suddenly shoving his hand off you. Taehyung sends you a puzzled look, asking what’s wrong through his coffee irises.

You respond with a mocking look, annoyed. Taehyung shoots a ‘what the fuck’ expression as you cross your arms, ignoring him. It only makes him press you harder, clasping your arm to encourage you to look at him—the tension between you two catches the eyes of a certain someone.

“Oof, trouble in paradise, friends?” Seokjin notes beside you.

You and Taehyung both turn heads, caught like two deers in headlights.

“You’ve both barely spoken to each other, is everything alright?” Seokjin considerately asks. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it.”

Swallowing, you let Taehyung do the talking. “We’re fine, hyung. Thanks for asking.”

“You sure?” He queries. “You know you both can come to me with anything, I have plenty of experience with my own relationship. I feel a little sad seeing you guys like this.”

Touched by Seokjin’s concern, your eyes soften. Taehyung light-heartedly laughs, landing a friendly palm on Seokjin’s shoulder. “It’s nothing like that, hyung. Y/N and I are just… having a competition, you could say.”

“A competition?” He quirks a curious brow. “What kind?”

Taehyung flashes you a look as though asking your permission to proceed—you send him a confirming nod. Leaning towards Seokjin’s ear, Taehyung whispers the details about your current kerfuffle; Seokjin immediately erupts into hearty laughter.

“No fucking way, you guys are having a competition to see how long you can last without sex?!”

Seokjin being the ever-so loud, rambunctious member of the group, the entire table is privy to your childish war, erupting into amused cackles.

“What? These two?” Namjoon points between you with a snort. “These two who can barely keep their hands off each other? You can’t even take them out without risking getting booked for indecency.”

“No goddamn way,” Hoseok comments, stifling his giddy laughter. “Namjoon’s right, I bet there isn’t a single universe where these two fuck bunnies even last two days.”

“Two days?” Jungkook chips in, clucking his tongue. “That’s being nice, hyung. They could barely last a day with the amount that they fuck—I literally have trauma with calling them because I know I’ll hear a porno in the making like last time.”

“Taehyung, how could you not tell me this?” Jimin acts scandalized, slamming his hand on the table; he may be a bit drunk. “I’m your best friend!”

“Woah, okay, calm down, you clowns.” Taehyung gestures at his friends. “Jimin, it’s between Y/N and I, so I didn’t say anything. And you three, for your fucking information, we’ve gone 6 days without sex, so shut the fuck up, will you?”

“6 days? Holy shit, somebody write this down!” Seokjin hollers, wiping his fake tears. “It’s a historical day for society!”

“6 days without sex? Oh, these lovebirds aren’t lasting. Someone call the psych ward, they’re gonna go insane soon.” Jimin proclaims.

“You kidding me? Give them both some alcohol and I bet they’ll fuck like wild animals when they get home.” Jungkook slams his hefty wallet on the table, scouring for bills. “Who wants to bet money on it?”

Namjoon retaliates. “At home? Please, Jungkook, 70,000 won says they’ll do it in the Mercedes before even getting there.”

“Who says the restaurant’s bathroom is off limits?” Hoseok chimes in. “130,000 that they’ll fuck in there; even Eunbi’s bathroom wasn’t safe.”

“Please, Hob-ah.” Seokjin grievously laments. “I still have nightmares about that.”

“Okay! All of you, shut the fuck up!” You derisively sing-song, scolding the rowdy boys. “You guys just love picking at our sex life because of you’re jealous of it.”

“Exactly; you’re all just bitter you don’t have a relationship like ours.” Taehyung spits at them as he curls an arm around your shoulder; you back him up with vehement nods.

“Ew, I don’t wanna to be like you two nasty, lovey-dovey losers.” Jungkook retorts. “I’ve already got a crazy sex life of my own, thank you very much, which by the way I gotta tell you all…”

And Jungkook goes on to explain an insane update on the current fuss with his wife, finally lifting the hot seat you and Taehyung had found yourselves in. The night continued with fun-filled laughter, chatter, and a plentiful amount of food—shit only hit the fan when alcohol was served.

You and Taehyung both adopted the mindset of drowning your sorrows, inhaling shot after shot. You both became much more free-spirited once liquor entered your systems, finally loosening up enough to have a good time, forgetting all about your petty bet. You laughed into Taehyung’s shoulder as he told you charming jokes and shamelessly flirted with you, he smiled from ear-to-ear watching you cutely giggle—you remained closely entangled together the whole night, lost in the other’s eyes.

Your drunken giggles were endless as you and Taehyung piled out of the restaurant with the rest of your party, your arms slung around his neck, his snug around your lower back as you fooled around. You’re both busy chuckling at Taehyung trying to kiss you when Namjoon patted your husband’s shoulder.

“Hey, Taehyung-ah, you two getting home alright?”

Taehyung shoots Namjoon a narrow-eyed look, slurring his words when he speaks. “Who d’you think I am, hyung? Ovously I wouldn’t dive-drive when I drank alcol.” Your husband hiccups, which causes you to laugh at him.

Namjoon’s lips curve with a fond, dimply smile, laughing. “Alright, lovebirds. Get home safe.” Namjoon affectionately claps Taehyung’s back. The pair of you send him a drunken thumbs up before Namjoon locates his wife. Taehyung suddenly faces you, cupping your cheeks.

“Hey, Princess.” He hiccups, his lips pouting as he stares at your plushy ones. “I’m sowry I drank when I’m the diver-driver; I shouldm’ve been more reponsible.”

Your heart melts as he drunkenly rambles, cupping his cheeks back. “Is okey, Taehyung.” You coo, communicating with him in pout. “You work hard enough; you deserve a bwreak.”

He brightly grins as he bops your nose, causing you both to stupidly laugh. Mr. Kang ends up finding you two, greeting him as though he were your saviour. He sincerely was, because once he began driving, the alcohol caused you both to disregard your surroundings. Your husband tugged you over his lap and connected your lips for shameless kisses, touches, even temporary stripping of clothes.

You both incessantly giggled and smiled throughout the steamy session, happily enjoying each other’s company. Mr. Kang even faintly smiled at you two before placing up the partition.

Arriving home, you burst through the door, liquor having stunted your ability to have a logical conversation. Tossing away your shoes, you run towards Taehyung, hooking your arms around his gorgeously carved neck.

“Taehyung! Oh my god, we’re home, this is our home!” You drunkenly marvel.

“Right? Our home, all ours.” Taehyung joins in on your fun, palms encasing your waist, slowly waddling you both inside after shutting the door. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if it wasn’t just us two, though?”

“Yes, yes!” You excitedly shout. “We need babies, we need so many babies!”

Taehyung warmly chuckles, his cheeks flushed with alcohol. “I don’t know about so many babies, Princess—it’s gonna hurt you.”

“But I want your babies!” You angrily pout, leaning your chin on his strong chest. “You don’t want my babies, Taehyung?”

Taehyung softens at your intoxicated expression, sickeningly in love with you. His palms affectionately encircle your waist, holding you close. “Of course I want your babies, baby. But pregnancy is a lot—I don’t want it to hurt you.”

“But I need your babies!” You valiantly proclaim, crashing your lips against Taehyung’s so powerfully, the man nearly tumbles backwards. You end up toppling him over your couch, straddling him as he cradles your body over his.

You both drunkenly make out, sloppy and disarrayed, relishing in each other’s taste before you break away. “I wanna have your babies, Taehyung.” You pout, a sad look dawning on your features. Your soft irises fall to his neck,toying with the top button of his dress shirt. “Why can’t we have a baby?”

Taehyung’s heart sinks hearing your frail voice, lightly brushing some hair from your face. “We’ll have a baby someday, pretty girl.” He comforts you, stroking his thumb across your cheek. “We’ll keep trying, I promise; I’ll give you all the babies you want.”

You attempt to blink moisture out of your eyes as depression washes over you; sometimes Vodka really backfired on your emotions. Lately, things have been difficult trying to conceive with Taehyung; you've been trying for 6 months now, and you’ve gained nothing but disappointment.

“But we keep trying… and no babies.” Your bottom lip slightly trembles, sniffling. “I want a baby, Tae.”

The brokenness of your tone is what shatters your husband; it sounded like a cry from deep within your soul. Taehyung’s palms immediately encase your cheeks, his heart softening. He hates the sad pout on your lips, even watching your eyes gloss over. Heart-broken, he softly exhales, pressing your mouths together sweetly, so gently, you were certain your insides melted.

His kiss ignites something inside you, springing up onto your knees to gain some leverage. You use the height advantage to devour him, Taehyung’s hands sensually roaming your body. Your hips grind into Taehyung’s instinctually, deep groans slipping past his lips.

You shudder into his mouth when he thrusts up into you, your clothed cunt welcomed by his rising member. You take his bottom lip between your teeth to bite him, licking over your teeth marks before plunging your tongue inside his mouth.

Your husband licks your tongue, sharing your saliva without a regard for anything as ferality overwhelms him—you share the same sentiment.

“Taehyung,” you breathe, hormones surging through your veins. “Put a baby in me, I want your babies.”

Your plea is hot against Taehyung’s lips, constant smacking noises filling the room as you nastily makeout. Taehyung groans when you grind down over his crotch, deliciously rubbing against his clothed tip. “I’ll give you anything you want, pretty girl.”

His uneven breaths light you on fire, driven by sheer lust. Paired with the alcohol and six days with absitinence, your mind is stupidly desparate for sex right now.

“Wanna have your babies, Tae.” You moan into his mouth, Taehyung’s hands sliding down your back to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh. He lifts up your skirt to roam your bare cheeks, smacking both as he guides your hips over his lap, growling out deep, masculine groans.

“Oh, I’ll fucking put a baby in you,” he pants, slithering his tongue inside you. You can taste the Whiskey he drank, melting into his strong body as his digits emblazon your ass.

You run on adrenaline, craving Taehyung with such carnal need, you’re uncontrollable. You hotly whisper against his swollen, wet lips, fingers weaved through his sexy hair. “Taehyung, please… fuck me.”

Taehyung’s eyes shine with desire, pupils dilating at the request. His body tenses, his cock twitches, his muscles even readying themselves, but he needs to ask. “Baby… are you sure—”

“Please, Tae,” you beg, tugging his luscious locks. “I’m fucking aching for you.”

Your cunt flutters over his lap, sighing when the shape of him caresses you. You’re so incredibly sensitive, cum gushes out of you like waterworks. You physically shudder, bracing Taehyung’s shoulder as your hips develop a mind of their own, grinding over his crotch.

Taehyung still hesitates, leaving affectionate pecks along your jaw. “Say it,” he commands, thrusting up into your sex once again. “Say you want me, Princess, say how much you want it.”

“I–I want it, Tae, so badly.” You strangle out, pussy drowning with your essence, vibrating for his flesh to be lodged inside you. “Want you inside me… want you to fuck me like a bad girl, fuck me like a dirty slut.”

Taehyung shudders out a sexy, deep groan, his dick twitching inside his pants. “Fuck, Y/N…”

“I’m so fucking horny, baby. I need you.” You beseech, arm slinging around his neck to bury your hand in his hair, your unoccupied one tugging his tucked dress shirt out of his pants. “Fuck me right here, right now. Fuck me like your pathetic whore.” You drunkenly plead, promiscuously rolling your hips over him, body operating on alcohol and insufferable horniness alone.

Taehyung literally growls, an animalistic need overwhelming him. He snatches your waist and spins you to his side, rapidly pinning you to the couch. He crawls over you and cages you underneath, lips crashing into yours.

His hands quickly ride up your skirt, tearing off your clothes before his thumbs cling to your underwear, stripping it off with hot finesse. He instinctively unclasps his belt, removing the irritating thing to push down his pants, freeing his incredibly hard, rock-solid length. Your grabby hands demanded his clothes be off, quickly stripping him as well to reveal his deliciously masculine body.

Everything else that occurred afterwards was a blur to you, only able to remember certain details. You recalled your husband’s gravelly, husky groans, his hands desperately gripping you, the dark, plum-coloured kisses he embellished on your skin.

You remember his powerful body manuevering over yours, the incessant sounds of his laboured breaths by your ear. You seldom remember the hot things he whispered, but you remember the way you felt, they way he felt, the way your pussy throbbed for more, the way your fingers tugged his hair, eventually scraped down his neck to leave red trails along his sweaty skin, the painful, but pleasurable burn between your legs.

But, next thing you knew, the alcohol intoxicated your head so much, unprecedented exhaustion overwhelmed your body. Taehyung exhibited the same symptoms, his thrusts losing precision, harshness, until suddenly, he lost speed altogether. His hips eventually stilled, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Yours threaten to fall shut, too, only recalling the mutual look you and Taehyung gave to each other. You faintly remember him pulling out of you before he collapsed over your body, your own succumbing to unavoidable fatigue.

The only reminder he was even next to you was the soft, familiar beating of his heart, and the sheltering warmth of his skin.

Taehyung awakens to the feeling of something on his chest, groaning as his eyes flutter open. He rubs one before peeking down, focusing on the particular weight over his heart—his eyes widen immediately.

You’re lying completely naked on his chest.

He curses under his breath, his head finally clear enough to understand his reality. He sees himself naked as well, running a stressed hand over his groggy face with a curse.

“Fuck… did we have sex?”

All Taehyung remembers from last night was his poor decision to drown in Whiskey, and the incredible horniness that attacked him as a result. He remembers making out with you, remembers getting handsy, recalls the faint memory of dirty-talk, but scarcely remembers the actual sex.

He blinks multiple times as he gazes at you, your frame softly rising and falling as you sleep. Once his mind comes up empty of any other excuses, he sighs as he comes to his conclusion.

“Yeah, we definitely had sex.”

Groaning, Taehyung curses when he remembers your petty little competition, worsening his already agonizing headache. It should probably be the least of his concerns, but he’s still pissed he can’t remember who initiated things, meaning another future argument with you.

Kissing his teeth, Taehyung snatches his phone and taps his screen, registering the time. It’s nearly the hour Mrs. Choi and Seo come by the house to begin cooking breakfast. Taehyung’s head falls back against the couch, grievously sighing.

Taehyung carefully maneuvers himself out from under you, affectionate with your slumbering body. He slips on his boxers and pants from last night, next locating a blanket. He drapes a light one over your naked figure, soon hoisting you up in his arms.

He’s making his way towards the stairs when the door suddenly swings open, making dreaded eye contact with his two housekeepers. The ladies pause upon seeing a shirtless Taehyung carrying you bridal-style, though Taehyung’s quick to defuse the moment.

“Good morning, Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Seo.”

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” The two ladies kindly greet him, removing their jackets and shoes.

“Sorry about the mess,” Taehyung ticks his head in the direction of your sprawled clothes. “We’d drank last night and weren’t exactly in our right minds.”

“That’s alright, Mr. Kim.” Mrs. Seo politely assures him. “You and Mrs. Kim are young lovers, sir, you should enjoy your youth.”

“That’s right, Mr. Kim.” Mrs. Choi chimes in. “Young love is precious, never let us old ladies stop you!”

Taehyung cracks a fond smile, laughing. “Thank you, Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Seo.”

“Would you like us to cook some hangover soup for yourself and Mrs. Kim?” Mrs. Choi asks as she meanders in with her purse.

“Yes, please, though only some for me right now, Y/N’s still sleeping.” Taehyung’s eyes shift to you in his arms, silently doting on your angelic, sleeping face. “I would like her food to be served when she’s awake. I want it nice and hot for her, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, not at all.” Mrs. Choi benignly reassures, already stepping into the kitchen.

“Thank you. Prepare some ibuprofen as well, she’s a horrible drunk, as usual.” Taehyung jokes, earning a laugh from the ladies. Mrs. Seo guarantees Taehyung that everything will be in place for you, finally making his way towards the staircase.

“Oh, and remember to serve her citrus fruits,” Taehyung calls out as he ascends the stairs, protectively carrying you. “Lots of fruits for her, in general. And don’t forget her vitamins, please.”

The ladies nod affirmatively before returning to their work, leaving Taehyung to vanish upstairs.

“Shit, my car’s in the shop.”

You lightly hit your fist against your palm, kissing your teeth when you recall your lack of transportation today. It’s currently a calm, late Saturday afternoon, having spent the last hour getting ready for your evening out with Hana.

Thank God your massive headache subsided after your delicious hangover soup, your housekeepers really were the best cooks. They must've been magicians, though, because their food had also granted you the ability to regain your memories from last night.

You muffled your scream into your pillow when you remembered you and Taehyung having sex; your sore legs were enough to know it was real, too, and not a dream. You whined at the idea that somebody lost the competition, and you’re unsure of exactly who it was, but 70% sure it was you.

As a result, you decided to subconsciously ignore Taehyung today. Thankfully, he spent his morning out, having gone golfing with some board members before returning home to work quietly in his study.

Memories of last night’s steamy, sweaty sex entered your mind every now and then throughout the morning, though you forced yourself to pretend it didn’t happen, and that it didn’t count, either.

Swallowing your pride, you sigh as you patter over to Taehyung’s study, lightly knocking on the door.

“Come in.” You hear him request, carefully twisting the knob open. You clear your throat as you waddle inside, Taehyung’s gaze lifting from his laptop to observe you. He visibly brightens, as though his body has an innate reaction to your presence, though he schools himself, returning to his work.

“Good afternoon, Princess.”

The addressment curves your lips in the slightest, lacing your fingers behind your back. “Good afternoon, Tae.”

“How’s your headache?” He queries, sifting through paperwork. “Mrs. Seo told me you slept in because of it.”

“Yeah, I could barely get out of bed, honestly. Though the hangover soup helped, and the ibuprofen, too.” You detail. “They told me you specifically requested both. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, love.” He replies, flexing his neck sideways with a grimace before focusing on his work; his shoulder seemed to be bothering him. You hesitate offering him a massage considering the awkward tension from last night, though his voice interrupts your thought. “Why did you come to my study, did you need something?”

“Oh, yeah.” A figurative lightbulb pops into thin air above you, extending your hand. “Could I have the keys to your Mercedes? My car’s in the shop.”

He furrows his brows. “My car? Are you going out?”

You grab the ends of your blush pink baby doll, lightly swaying the thin satin fabric, even puckering your lips to indicate your makeup. “A bit obvious, isn’t it?”

Taehyung sends you a deadpan expression. “With who?”

His stoic energy ticks you off, letting your sarcasm loose. “My secret boyfriend.”

Your husband shoots you a harsh look. “Be serious, Y/N.”

Letting out a long, deep sigh, you confess. “With Hana; she wants to complain about my brother.”

“Will you be out all night?”

“Don’t think so, I’m visiting the site of the new headquarters building Sunday morning and I want to sleep well.” You honestly inform him—he amicably nods.

“Alright, I’ll give you the keys, but do me a quick favour first, please?” He asks, pointing towards one of his shelves on his left. “I need one of those old logs on the 7th shelf, could you grab it for me?”

Nodding, you follow his instructions indicating which specific log, stepping towards his shelf. You kiss your teeth registering that it’s too high, locating a nearby stepping stool. You almost climb onto it until you suddenly freeze, remembering something vital; you’re wearing nothing underneath your babydoll.

You face flushes once you consider that if you climb the stool, you’ll be flashing Taehyung your bare pussy. While on another day that wouldn’t have been a problem, the current sticky situation made you feel shy about it—he could potentially believe you’re seducing him.

Clearing your throat, you timidly clasp your hands together, facing him. “Um… it’s a little high for me, I think you’ll need to grab it.”

Taehyung tilts his head. “You can use the stepping stool; it’s specifically for you.”

Rolling your eyes, you decide to admit the truth. “Well, I’m not wearing anything underneath this, and last I remember you think I’m trying to seduce you 24/7, Mr. Kim.”

Taehyung instantly recognizes your dig, narrowing his eyes at you. He huffs out before drawing back his chair, rising from his seat. His long legs carry him so fast you have limited time to move out of his way, Taehyung simply reaching over your head.

It’s a minor thing, and yet, it’s the soft hand Taehyung clasps around your hip as he reaches up that lights your skin on fire. His touch through the thin babydoll feels exhilarating, suddenly reminded of his body on yours last night. The sex drought had surely made you insane; how could his domestic touch and mere presence behind you make you squirm? His larger body always made you feel so small, but in a way that ignited your bones.

You shrug off his touch once the image of his broad frame in comparison to yours ruins you—Taehyung cocks a suspicious brow as he retrieves the log. He returns to his desk without questioning it, plopping down the heavy binder before opening his drawer, unearthing his keys.

“You know the rules; both about my car and going out.” He reminds you, jangling the keys. “Think you know the car ones, but I think you need a reminder of the going out ones.”

You tilt your head, curiously contorting your lips.

Taehyung tongues his cheek, swallowing. “You need to kiss me before you go.”

Your eyes widen, awkwardly shuffling your feet. “I thought you said no kissing?”

“I said quick pecks are allowed.”

Seeing his point, you roll your eyes. You paddle over to him, watching him turn his chair to face you. He nonchalantly leans back, manspreading his expansive legs as he blankly waits for you, holding out the keys.

With slightly flustered cheeks, you swallow, carefully leaning down—his domineering presence is sincerely wounding your resolve. Your hand cradles his bicep as you tenderly press your lips to his, kissing him. You’re surprised when he actually reciprocates it, kissing you back. Feeding into the sweet liplock for all of six seconds, you pull away before his scent hypnotizes you, snatching the keys.

“Thank you.” You quickly mumble before scurrying away, yearning to be out of his study already. Taehyung doesn’t say anything else, which at first, makes you glad, though on second thought, causes your heart to sink. He didn’t mention last night; would he not have used it to solidify his win? Or is he purposefully ignoring it because he’s pissed?

Did he possibly not even remember last night? There’s no way, you’re certain Taehyung woke up first and tucked you into bed; he surely found you both lying naked together, too.

Swallowing your pride, you swivel around on your foot. “By the way… um, about last night.”

He lifts his gaze, paying attention to you. “Yes?”

“It… it doesn’t count.” You manage to say. “We were both drunk, and it’s hard to remember, anyway.”

Taehyung furrows an intimidating brow of his. “I understand, but it still completely counts, Y/N. We had sex.”

“We fell asleep before we could even orgasm, Tae.” You argue. “It doesn’t count, alcohol just makes us really horny.”

“We were already horny before the alcohol, Y/N.” Taehyung reasons. “It does count; we couldn’t control ourselves and had sex, let’s consider it a draw.”

You exclaim with confusion, hand finding your hip. “What? A draw? No way some drunk sex ends everything at a draw.”

Your husband sighs behind his desk. “Yes it does, Y/N. Like you said, neither of us really remember it, so it’s no use analyzing who seduced who first. Let's act like grown ups and call it a fair draw, okay?”

Scoffing, you fold your arms over your chest. “It was probably you who lost, anyway.”

“It was you, actually.” Taehyung’s quick to bite back. “I have better tolerance and therefore better memory of last night; I remember you starting things, Y/N.”

“We can’t be sure of that,” you retort. “We were both wasted and clearly very horny, you just don’t want to admit that you lost.”

Taehyung crudely laughs. “Win or lose, drunk sex means a draw, end of discussion.” Your husband finalizes. “Even though it was technically you, I’m being nice and letting us end off on a draw; cherish my kindness, sweetie.”

Indignation immediately floods your system, puffing your cheeks at him. “Shut up, you didn’t win for shit, your tolerance isn’t even that much better than mine.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t!”

You and Taehyung immaturely fight again, stuck in a constant back and forth of who gave into who first.

“Actually, it started at the dinner table when you couldn’t even keep your hands off me, you were clearly trying to make me horny!” You screech.

“Actually, it started when you purposefully wore that skirt and those thigh-highs, it wouldn’t be the first time you weaponized your outfits to make me horny!” He retaliates.

Hollering at each other for another five obnoxious minutes, you grow fed up.

“Ugh! You’re an insufferable sore loser, you can never stand letting me be right with your damn ego!” You irritatedly shout.

“My ego? You never stand for an option where you’re wrong, you’re worse!” He loudly counters.

“Goddamnit, you’re so stubborn!”

“You’re more stubborn!”

“Fuck you, Taehyung. You know what? Let’s just never have sex again, yeah?” You condescendingly finalize.

“Okay, fine, no sex.” Taehyung nonchalantly shrugs. “Suffer without it, you horny brat.”

Your jaw drops at his audacity, eyes burning with anger. “Fine!”

“Fine!” Taehyung yells after you, his eyes similarly simmering with frustration.

“Fine, no sex!”

“No sex!” He repeats.

“No sex, ever again, never ever!” You bark.

“Never!”

“Good.”

“Good!”

You stare at him, and he stares at you. Your blood boils with anger underneath your skin, but your cunt vibrates, grinding your teeth to manage the feeling. Taehyung remains unbothered with his folded arms and reprimanding eyes, but his constant swallowing gives him away.

Nobody says a word, nobody moves a muscle, and yet the tension enlivens whatever frustration is simmering, the energy absolutely palpable.

Holding your gaze, Taehyung grinds his teeth, biceps tensing underneath his dress shirt as he seriously contemplates something. He lets out a long, deep sigh afterwards, shaking his head. “Godamnit, so what if I lose…”

Suddenly, Taehyung kicks out his chair, abandoning his desk to walk over to you. He grabs your face faster than the speed of light, and crashes his lips against yours.

You’re winded, eyes wide with shock at the sheer force of his kiss, but the carnality excites you, wantonly swinging your arms around his neck. His eager hands glide down your body, feeling all of you in your thin babydoll before clasping the back of your thighs, encouraging you to jump.

You instantly moan into his mouth when you hop into his arms, having missed the taste of him. He’d just had something sweet; the hint of vanilla cream and strawberries explodes over your taste buds, slithering your tongue further into his mouth.

Taehyung shudders out a deep groan, swirling his tongue around yours when greedy lust overwhelms him. He becomes impatient, effortlessly carrying you towards his long corduroy couch. Taehyung quickly seats himself as he positions you over his lap, his hands greedily wrapping around, hungirly embracing you.

He presses your body into his, encouraging you to grind your hips over him. He pries away for air, breathily speaking against your lips. “Not wearing anything underneath, huh?”

You lightly chuckle, swiping your tongue over his pillowy lips. “Nothing at all.”

With mischief gleaming in his eyes, Taehyung attacks your lips, making out with you shamelessly as his hands travel downwards, suddenly cupping your bare ass. He squeezes you, even teases your damp core in a way that makes you jump in his arms, squeaking.

He heartily laughs before snatching the ends of your babydoll, his timbre husky when he speaks. “I really love this on you; a babydoll for my babydoll,” he pecks you, “but I’m tearing it off.”

Simultaneously, Taehyung strips off your nightwear in one swift motion, leaving you bare over his clothed figure. Your fingers grapple onto his hair as your pussy earns god-like friction over his dress pants, whimpering like a needy slut.

The feeling ignites an insatiable hunger inside you, biting down on Taehyung’s bottom lip. You tug on it, watching it bounce back to its place with dilated, ravenous eyes. His look of sheer bliss leaves you craving him like a drug, done with denying yourself your gorgeous husband.

Grabbing his shirt, you pin Taehyung down on his couch, his eyes excitedly shimmering when his back crashes into the cushions. “Fuck, baby…”

“I’ll go insane without you.” You unevenly breathe, fingers making quick work of his buttons. “Take this off, now.”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, ripping open his shirt as your hands visit his pesky belt, nearly ripping it off him. Your husband eagerly watches as you shove down his pants, smirking as he tucks a casual hand underneath his head. “Seems like someone couldn’t go any longer.”

Playfully narrowing your eyes at him, you suppress a laugh. “Says you of all people.”

For your revenge, you clasp Taehyung’s unoccupied hand and tuck it against your soaked, dripping pussy folds. You let out a broken shudder, bracing your hands against his strong, expansive chest. Taehyung curses underneath his breath, fascinated by your wetness.

“Shit, baby, you’re fucking soaked.” He coos. “Is this for me? Do I make my baby this wet?”

You obediently nod, lightly grinding your hips into his hand, adoring the way his gigantic palm easily envelopes your cunt. You bite your lip to suppress raunchy moans, Taehyung’s caramel-smooth voice gracing your ears. “Do this over my cock, baby. Put me inside, yeah?”

You mewl hearing his words, wrapping your palm around his erect member. You free him from the confines of his boxers, gushing brand new arousal when you feel how deliciously hard he is. His thick veins, his impressive girth, the delicious heft of him. Stroking his pulsing shaft, Taehyung melts underneath you; clearly you’re not the only one who’s been dying for sex.

“Seems like someone couldn’t go any longer.” You mock him.

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck me, Taehyung.”

He lightly laughs at your wittiness, and without further ado, you elevate your hips, aligning him with your entrance before piercing yourself on his dick.

You gasp when he enters you, surprised by how large Taehyung feels. He’s always been big, but something about your recent promise of abstinence made Taehyung feel foreignly large, falling forward upon his body.

It’s imperative you stop, digging your nails into his chest when the ache harms you. “Fuck…”

Taehyung worriedly grips you. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

“You’re big… you’re so big, Taehyung.”You struggle to speak, breathing through the intrusion of his flesh.

“Shit, I feel too big after a while, don’t I?” He curses, his hands rubbing up and down your sides, soothing you. “Take what you can, Princess, only what you can.”

His gentle voice nearly waters your eyes, feeling your love for him meld with your incredible horniness. Your walls soak him in thereafter, as though Taehyung were returning home. The pain simmers long enough that pleasure explodes inside you, walls adjusting to his size. They pulse erratically, but adore the familiar insertion, welcoming him with open arms.

Once you’re entirely speared over Taehyung’s cock, animalistic grunts leave you both. Your body feels as though it’s on white hot fire, and Taehyung’s stomach contracts attempting to hold back his load, hungry eyes beaming up at you from below.

“Y/N, I swear to God…” He breathes, barely able to speak, throwing his head back to regain himself. “If you ride me right now, I’ll fill you with an entire fucking soccer team.”

Ligtly chuckling, you elevate your hips, slowly drawing him out of your sex just to slowly sink back over him. You both shudder with pleasure at the electrifying sensation, hormones raging, bodies eager for each other.

Taehyung’s tight groans drive your tenacity, slowly sliding his cock in and out of you until you become addicted to him, addicted to the feeling of him constantly entering and leaving you, filling the very end of you. His dick is akin to ecstasy, riding him as though nothing else could satiate you’re intense hunger.

You reach your hands back to clasp onto his thighs, letting your body bounce over his cock without shame. The drag of his flesh inside you feels earth-shattering, losing your mind to the explosive friction, the slippery, sloppy sliding.

Taehyung becomes obsessed with the erotic scene before him, greedy hands worshipping your jostling body, his tender words praising you for the goddess you are.

“Holy fuck, Y/N.” He groans with blown out eyes, gripping your maneuvering hips. “This so fucking hot, you literally drive me insane.”

Eating up his words, you are gyrating your hips, serving your clit the attention it deserves. This time you lean forward, fingers digging into Taehyung’s taut stomach as you relish in his perfectly shaped member, feeling his thick veins and throbbing meat serve you heaven on a silver platter.

Taehyung’s hand snakes up your body, lightly clasping around your neck. He listens to your moans heighten in pitch as he carefully grips your throat, watching your hips roll over his spasming meat.

“My fucking god,” he swallows, timbre deep and husky—needy. “You’re the most gorgeous woman on Earth.”

Simultaneously, Taehyung slips his fingers into your adjacent mouth, prompting you to swirl your tongue around his digits. Your moans become muffled as a result, eyes falling to your crazed husband beneath you. He eats up your fucked out expression, tears brimming your eyes as your orgasm deliciously simmers inside you, burning brightly between your thighs.

You suck his fingers, riding him like a Harley, so close to losing yourself in the throes of your pleasure, it’s hard to maintain your equilibrium. Your head is spinning, your body is aching, blood is rushing so rapidly inside you you can’t even manage to keep up—you’re only able to register your cunt smothering Taehyung’s cock as though it were fostering a symbiotic relationship.

Light-headedness plagues you before Taehyung suddenly rises from his laid position, drawing his fingers out of your mouth. He cautiously cradles your weak body against his front, protectively enveloping you in his warmth.

“Stay with me, baby.” Taehyung purrs, softly throbbing inside your sex. “I know it’s good, but don’t let it all rush to your head; you’ll have a sub drop, babygirl.” His loving voice resurfaces you, feeling him guide your chin downwards to find his eyes. “Stay awake for me—I need more of you.”

He casts some strands from your face as you deliriously nod, mimicking his calmer breaths. Once your breathing is more leveled, Taehyung’s gigantic hands weave around your ass. He grips you hard as he taked the wheel, controlling the tides of your sex, languidly, sensually fucking up into you.

You whimper, sighing as Taehyung masterfully maneuvers your hips downwards as he thrusts up, burrowing a home inside you. He continuously sheaths himself inside your velvety walls as you gasp against his mouth, suppressing your moans.

“Why are you being quiet, Princess?” He lightly reprimands, pecking your lips.

“Mrs. Choi… and Seo,” you moan, hiding your flushed face in his neck. “They’ll hear us.”

“Let them,” he growls in your ear, nibbling on the lobe. “Let them hear it; let them hear how good I fuck you.”

Tired of holding yourself back, you relax every limb in your body, letting yourself openly react to your husband’s godly love-making. Your breasts jostle as you bounce up and down his cock, skin slapping against skin, addicted to the heat of his body.

“God, how was I ever gonna survive without this, huh?” Taehyung groans, holding your body hostage as he jackhammers into you. “You and your perfect pussy? My pretty girl?”

You gasp for dear life when Taehyung pierces himself so deep inside you, you nearly scream. “Fuck-!” Your body’s vibrating, ecstasy coursing through your veins as you lose all sense of sanity, hands clutching his sturdy shoulder for dear life. “Taehyung, let me reverse cowgirl you, turn me around.” You breathily request.

Taehyung lets out a proud huff as he maneuvers you over him, positioning your back to face his front. You sigh out pronographically as he guides your hips over his cock this way. The leverage you gain is powerful, your palms grappling his knees to develop a crazy, pornographic pace over his dick.

You indulge in the angle change, freely bouncing as you please. His flesh constantly scrapes your frontal walls, losing your mind. Taehyung lets out a string of breathy curses, fucking you from underneath in accordance with you. You reach back for support, your husband instantly intertwining your fingers as you incline forward, and he reclines back, both of you fucking each other like horny bunnies.

Your salacious noises are endless, no doubt echoing throughout the house and reaching the working housekeepers in your home, but neither of you care when the sex was so god-tier, your orgasms feel as though they’ll be cosmic.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, baby, slow down.” Taehyung warns you, hissing with pleasure. “I’m literally gonna cum, holy shit I can’t hold back.”

“Then don’t,” you coo, swiveling your hips over his perfect cock, toes curling with undeniable pleasure. “Fill me up, Taehyung. I meant what I said last night, I want your babies.”

“I meant what I said, too.” He suddenly tugs your back flush agains his front, embracing you from behind. He morphs his fast and hard thrusts into slow, deep strokes, moaning into your ear. “I’ll give you all the babies you want.”

You bite your lip as you whimper, hugging his hands around your stomach as he intimately fucks you, laying affectionate kisses across your naked shoulder. Your hand snakes into his hair behind you, sighing pleasurably as he kisses your pulse point, languidly making love to you.

“Tae… don’t drag this out.” You beg, gripping his locks. “I need to cum, it’s been too fucking long.”

“Yeah? Want me to make cum?” He huskily whispers, hands closing around your breasts to fondle them, seductively caressing your nipples. You jolt with white hot electricity, whimpering over him with a nod.

He suddenly lays a hand on your tit, lightly slapping it. “How many times do I have to tell you about words, Y/N?”

You shudder as essence oozes out of you, coating his throbbing dick. “Yes, Taehyung, please.”

You feel him smirk against your skin, suddenly gripping you. “Then you better hold on tight, babe.”

Swiftly, Taehyung lifts you up from the couch and shoves you against the coffee table in front of you, pinning your front to the frigid, cherry wood surface. It takes you some seconds to realize you’re bent over, ass out for him before he plunges back inside your pulsing pussy, grappling onto your hips.

Your fingers scratch the table as Taehyung delivers hard, rough thrusts from behind, fucking you with delicious ferality. He pleasures himself to the nines, grunting animalistically as he gives it to you. “God, your ass, Princess, I’m in love.”

You moan loudly, shoving your face into the table. “Fuck, Taehyung, my clit, please fucking touch my clit.”

Taehyugn doesn’t need repetition, slithering his hand towards your throbbing pearl and fondling it with tight circles, drawing tantalizing patterns. You practically screech, shivering with pleasure as he fucks you senseless, does you right in every possible way.

Your husband’s hips slam against yours with each thrust, each precise stroke coiling that wire inside you so, so tight, you’re crying out with unprecedented pleasure.

“Fuck, I need to see your face,” Taehyung breathes, releasing a throaty groan. “Let me see your pretty face when you moan like that, baby.”

Taehyung grabs where he must to turn you on your back, effortlessly man-handling you. He hands slam either side of you, now entangled in an incredibly intimate missionary position. Your legs automatically lock around Taehyung's waist, and his hands cradle the back of your thighs, spreading you wider.

He brokenly groans when he shoves himself deeper inside you, his face mere inches from yours. “Holy fucking shit, fuck…”

“Such a foul mouth, Mr. Kim.” You tease, voice lilting with a moan when he thrusts into you.

“Sex this nasty with a gorgeous wife like you can do that to a man.” He snarks, burrowing deeper to reach the end of you. Your eyes physically glimmer with wanton need as he strokes your fluttering sex, feeling your heart glow brighter which each delicious fuck. Taehyung hoists one of your legs up on his shoulder, cradling it to him as he becomes impossibly close, smothering your smaller body underneath. He cleverly rolls his hips, serving both himself and your throbbing clit.

You moan against his mouth, Taheyung relishing in your breathy little reactions. His other hand slips underneath your head to cushion you, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world to him. His beautiful coffee irises pierce yours, ensnaring your heart.

“Princess…” he breathes, grunting as he rocks his hips. “I love you; I love making love to you.”

Your chest explodes with colours, eyes revealing your emotion as you keep his gaze.

“That’s why… I like having sex. It’s not about getting my dick wet… or blowing my load in you…” he shudders out a painful moan as he slows down his thrusts, no doubt pulsing with his release. “I love feeling your skin on mine, being intimate with you, feeling our bodies move like they belong together.”

You swallow back tears; something about the sincerity in his voice softens you, puddy in his hands.

“I love making you feel good, I love seeing the pleasure in your eyes, the way your body craves me. I love it all, baby, I love you.” He affectionately coos, passionately shoving himself inside you. “And I want us… to have a baby. I want a little me and you running around, I want to have a family with you, to share my life with you.”

It’s no surprise moisture floods your vision, sniffling it away. “Taehyung…”

“So please, never think I’m only here for the sex. I’m here for you, I’m in this because I love you, Y/N.” His tone seeps with saccharine sweet truth, watching his coffee orbs softly swirl. “And I wanna show it to you like this, by making love to you—making love for hours and hours until you finally grasp how I feel about you.”

Emotions clogs your chest with undeniable tears, narrowly able to manage them before a sudden long, deep stroke of his ultimately unravels you—both physically and emotionally. Your hands clutch his bread-like cheeks, eyes glistening with genuity. “I love you more, Tae.” You coo. “I love making love with you, I want to share a family with you, too.” You speak from the heart, feeling every cell in your body vibrate with such intense arousal, you suddenly erupt with an earth-shattering orgasm, nearly blacking out.

This feels far too powerful compared to a regular orgasm, though, left completely winded, body jelly-like. It’s only when you feel something incredibly wet dribbling down your thighs do you sense what’s really happening.

“Fuck, oh fucking hell… baby, you just squirted.” You hear your husband enthusiastically voice. “Oh that’s sexy, that’s so fucking sexy.” Taehyung’s voice is rich with fascination, his cock picking up the pace inside you. “Oh shit, I’m coming, I can’t hold it back—”

“Come, Taehyung, come inside me.” You sweeten your tone, sloppily kissing him. “Come inside my tight pussy, baby.”

And Taehyung paints your walls entirely white with his hot, abundant cum, letting out a feral grunt that indicates the sheer size of his load. He hisses as he slowly fucks you, watching your fluids mix together between your bodies.

“Shit…” he lightly curses, viewing your chest constantly rise and fall, your legs terribly trembling. He gains enough viable strength to draw out of you, your cunt immediately leaking out his seed, but Taehyung’s quick to swipe it back inside you, tucking his palm against your battered hole.

“Soak my cum back in, baby.” Taehyung softly requests. “Let me feel you do it.”

Following alon , you squeeze your walls as firmly as possible, letting him feel your fluttering pussy.

“Fuck,” he breathes, fascinated as he watches. You’re barely conscious, only able to register his words and movements, but your surroundings are fading, limbs utterly spent.

You nearly fall over when you attempt to rise, Taehyung catching you in his arms with panic. “Woah, woah, are you okay, Princess?”

Taehyung seats himself back on his couch, cradling you in his sheltering arms over his lap. He curls your hair behind your ear, analyzing your sleepy, exhausted features. “Was it too much, baby?”

You can’t even speak, simply shaking your head—only one thing remains fresh on your mind. “Let’s… never… do that again.”

Fondly chuckling at your weary state, Taehyung presses his lips to your temple, affectionately kissing you. “Never again, babe.”

Smiling at that, you cozy into his chest, letting sleep drift you away from the real world. You’re almost a happy goner when you hear your husband’s rich, caramel voice, his palm rubbing your back.

“So… wanna go for round two?”

You pry an eye open, shooting him a puzzled look. “Wh-what?

Taehyung snorts. “Round two, babe, in our sex dungeon. Did you really think you could make me go sexless for a week and I wouldn’t want to fuck you for hours?”

Swallowing, your eyes soften with pleading. “Taehyung, you’re insane!”

“What’s insane is that I didn’t get to make love to you for 6 days,” he counters, grabbing your chin to lift it, his amused eyes meeting yours. “Now I’m going to make up for each day I didn’t get to, starting with a little surprise.” He suddenly leans down towards your ear, letting his lips ever-so-faintly brush you.

“I’m edging you with the very same vibrator you dared touch yourself with.” He grits, fierce eyes piercing your very soul. “And we’re gonna do it for each and every time you disobeyed me.”

Choking on air, your eyes widen, begging for Taehyung to grant you mercy, but he only shoots back an evil, devilish grin, spelling your inevitable doom—you’re not surviving this at all.

Your erotic, needy moans resound around your home later that day as Taehyung deliciously punishes you, bouncing off the walls to even reach your silent listeners downstairs.

Mrs. Choi and Seo can’t help but giggle together as they vacuum the first level, their cheeks coloured a bright red.

“My my, what young love they have.” Mrs. Choi light-heartedly jokes.

Mrs. Seo snickers in response, knowingly smiling. “I have a feeling they’ll stay young for a long, long time.”

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