#i'll put some more rabid ass eating in the future chapters don't you worry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetbunnykook · 5 years

Text

Only You (7)

Word Count: 11,126 // angst (mention of physical abuse, mention of child abuse/neglect, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of physical harm, weapons), smut (unsafe sex practice, blowjob, rimjob, fingering, cumplay), a hint of fluff

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.

A/N: Thank you so so so so much for waiting so long omg the universe was set on sabotaging my fanfiction career but I prevailed. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I’m looking forward to the responses - 🐰

Playlist: The Very Gentle Lovers

‘I don’t love you anymore, Jungkook’

‘What?’ He looks up from his camera.

‘I said I don’t love you,’ you repeated, brushing your locks away with the back of your hand while you turn towards Seokjin, standing next to the television. ‘I’ve…I’ve been with Jin all along. He makes me feel complete, he makes me feel like a woman.’

He stands, the pencil falling from his fingers, looking between you and the man that didn’t belong in your apartment he called his safe haven.

‘N-noona what do you…mean? I-I’ve been good, haven’t I? I did everything you told me to. I-I,’ He panics, his breath catching in his throat as his hands begin to shake, sweat pooling in his palms.

You shake your head. ‘I’m sorry, Kookie.’ You lean forward and cup him softly on the cheek with one hand. He melts into your touch like butter, but before he can ask if you’ll change your mind, you’re moving away.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this, but you’re just too immature for me-’

‘I’ll do anything!’

‘-and I just think it’s best that I move in with Jin. He takes care of me,’ you smile at the broken hearted boy.

‘Noona please,’ he begs but his feet are glued to the ground.

He watches helplessly as you slide your hands in the crook of Jin’s arms with intimate familiarity. You roll your eyes at the tears streaking down his eyes as he begins to shrink, smaller and smaller, until he’s about the same height as your knees.

His cries turn into wails, the pitch of his voice rising and rising. There’s an iron man figurine in his hand and his other little fist flies up to his face to wipe his tears away.

‘Mama, don’t leave me!’ Jungkook wails. ‘Mama I’ll be good! I won’t be bad a-anymore! I won’t ask to play anymore!’

The door slams shut.

‘Mama!’

Jungkook startles awake, his fists taught on the bedsheets beneath him.

Pupils dilated. Hands shaking. Heavy breaths. Heavy heartbeats.

It’s been a while since he’s had a dream as painfully vivid as this one. Ever since he’d moved in with you and found the pleasure of holding you close every night, his nightmares lessened. It was a rather strange phenomenon but one thing he was sure about: you are his only remedy. He knows for sure now that calling Taehyung was the right decision. The man had told him to sleep on the idea first before confirming because this plan he’d brewed up over a single car ride could change your life – his life – forever. There’s no going back afterwards. The thought makes him queasy but ignites a flame deep in his core as well, because he knows no matter what Seokjin might pull, he’ll be four steps ahead. The prick must’ve thought he wouldn’t act so quick but no, oh no no no, he doesn’t wait around for things to get worse when it comes to you. You’re a woman after all. Your heart is fragile and innocent; it must be protected away from the claws of men that won’t love you the way he does.

It was distressful to bear witness to the filth you’ve been interacting with at your office behind his back. It was his woman that willingly went to Kim Seokjin for coffee. Jungkook couldn’t deny that you’re just as guilty as that prick, but he’s willing to forgive you as your doe eyes told him all he needed to know about your obliviousness.

Seokjin must’ve been nudging his way through your heart every morning you arrive at that suffocating building, preying upon your kindness, your willingness to stimulate a conversation with just about anyone out of curiosity. This eagerness of yours had scared him ever he’d first laid eyes on you. You really have no idea that men melt at any attention you give them.

Jungkook also notices well enough that the rest of the employees walked into the office right on the clock, apathetic about punctuality in contrast. They’re not as responsible as you are, as pure, as lovely. He knows for sure that your useless need to arrive to your job at least ten minutes early gave Seokjin the extra ten minutes to fantasize about you.

His fists shook just thinking about you sharing a cup of coffee with a man that obviously wanted to pull you away from your precious boyfriend who was waiting so diligently at home, alone, frightened.

“Stupid fucking homewreckers…” he mutters underneath his breath, like a mantra.

He runs his fingers through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp as he leans into your side of the bed, inhaling the scent of your perfume and swallowing his pain down to let it settle in his stomach like disease. He curls into a ball, repeating the three words over and over again, head hurting, another voice mingling with his: his mother’s.

Liar!

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

Lies! Lies! Lies!

He presses an elbow onto the mattress and propped himself up, looking around the bedroom once more. Birds chirped gingerly outside the window and the freshly laundered curtains swayed gently with the salty wind. How come the room seems so peaceful and silent while he was rotting away on the inside, losing every bet he casted, finding no water in the midst of a desert? You are what made this bedroom feel like home. Your smiles, your touches, your eyes on him and him only. He longed for your warmth to come in this time when he needed you the most.

Jungkook slides his hand towards his neck and pops the first button before tugging the cotton over his head. He relishes in the warmth the golden sunlight offered on his firm skin; a cheap substitute compared to your touch. He looked around the room once more in daze, then softly tossed the shirt on top of the vanity where your perfume collection lay. His eyes caught your dresser and he was immediately stomping over to the heavy cherrywood furniture, his arms pulling the very bottom drawer towards him.

Your underwear lay neatly layered across the interior, color-coded from the lightest shade to the deepest. Jungkook knew your intimates very well for he took upon the responsibility of handwashing the delicates and removing any blood stains during your menstrual cycles. He organized the collection as well and familiarized himself with each color and design, noting which fabric you preferred and which kind of strap dug into your back.

His fingers grazed over the cups; one pearl set, two vanilla sets, one lilac, two beige, two peachy, one pale pink (his favorite), and three black. Off to the side of the well-made sets were the plain white cotton underwear and sport bras you wore on a near daily basis. He counted the pairs, totaling exactly twelve. One of the designer sets is missing and it dawned on him that you wore the subdued golden set he’d seen in Namjoon’s villa when he’d risked sneaking into your room. He couldn’t recount the amount of times he’d traced the gentle embroidery with the tips of his fingers, admired it on your body as the cups hugged your breasts just right.

His spine prickles with sweat when it dawns on him that you wore it to office today. Underneath those modest clothes you wore something extremely special – expensive too – for work. But it simply didn’t make sense to him. You walk around your office all day, scrambling for this and that, on the phone with a client, in a meeting, organizing files after checking basic calculations. It’s not the type of place you’d wear lingerie to unless …

Unless you wanted attention, you wanted someone to notice, someone that’s not your boyfriend, someone new, someone handsome.

Kim Seokjin

Shit, shit, shit!

The evidence was damning. Jungkook couldn’t deny it any longer; you slipped through his fingers just like that. Just some time ago you were feeding him sugared words with how you’ll only love him, want him, take him. Now that the routine is back, you’re looking for someone new!

It was rich of you to avoid his advances in your office when you were strutting for Seokjin. He knows that look on your face when you’re needy; your lips pouty, pupils dilated, cheeks pink, hair slightly tousled like you slipped out of bed. He reveled in the fact that after your little promiscuous phase, he was the only man that had the pleasure of seeing that face. It didn’t sit well that Jin has probably witnessed it at some point these past few days and he felt like an idiot for slacking off his grip on you. He can tell that you haven’t slept with Jin as you couldn’t lie your way out of a paper bag when he interrogates, but it could easily become reality any day.

Jungkook knew one hundred percent for sure that he must follow through the plan he made with Taehyung. He must!

Tears brim in his eyes and he quickly blink it away, but to no avail, they start flooding. Like a child, Jungkook sits in front of the drawer, rubbing his wet eyes with his fists, small whimpers and sobs shaking his nail-marked back. Just when he thought he can be happy with you something always goes wrong. Even when you hurt him, make him sick, turn his insides sour, he doesn’t have the heart to blame you for wanting another man.

It’s alright, Jungkook tells himself, because he’ll be better for you.

It can be anything. Maybe you hated the breakfast he made two mornings ago (because he noticed the way you grimaced at the dried cranberries). Maybe you hated the detergent he used (because it accidentally left a small gray stain in the lining of your favorite blazer). Maybe you hated that he forgot to water the plants regularly and the leaves became limp. He’ll have to set a few alarms to make sure he can avoid making any mistakes. It wasn’t that long since he’d broken Kim Namjoon’s nose (which was well-deserved, in his opinion) so he’s treading on thin ice.

Jungkook slides the drawer back into its rightful compartment and clears his throat, rubbing his face with the heel of his palm before moving into your closet. It was one of his pride and joys; the ability to touch what you will be wearing for the day. The closet had two walls with built-in stainless-steel poles on both walls. The left, yours, the right, his. Compared to his side – consisting mostly of white shirts and various types of jeans – your side was much more colorful and a bit of a mess too. He shook his head, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips. No matter how much he cleans it ends in a mess; such a clumsy girlfriend you are.

Jungkook pushes the coats to one side to reveal the wooden box behind. He scrapes the wood along the matte cabinet below, pushing the black lacquered lid aside with the flick of his thumb along the metal lip. It was a poor organization system but he assumes the box holds enough sentimental value for its beauty to outweigh the inconvenience. After all, he’s seen photographs of your grandmother with the same box in her wrinkled hands – no doubt a precious family heirloom.

Thankfully, he found the papers he needed in the third plastic file (thank goodness you at least portioned the stack) and flipped through the white sheets.

Your recent blood test is perfect, although your iron levels could be a little higher, and the ear infection from last year seems to be the only stumble you’ve had in a while. You had a regular check up with Dr. Kwon two months ago and you are as fit as an average woman can be. You aren’t due for another check up at the gynecologist until December, which gives him a great time to go ahead with his plan. It was a miracle that birth control pills worked better for you than an IUD because Taehyung had explained that there’s no getting around an inserted copper. Who knew that those lovely tablets you take on the daily would be the gateway to heaven?

Taehyung had clarified he’ll need two weeks at most to replicate the pills down to its exact color, taste, and size. Placebo pills aren’t exactly difficult to make but making a batch of fifty would take considerable time and patience amidst a busy schedule. Surpassing security was another issue but Jungkook wasn’t too worried about it when Jimin can pull a few strings with the guys at the dock. If everything goes well, you’ll never be able to leave his side again.

There was only a twenty percent chance of a woman conceiving after an intercourse and Jungkook was running out of time. He’s got competition and Jungkook doesn’t take any challenges lightly, especially one that concerns his place in your life.

If he wants to get you pregnant, he’ll need to be on his best behavior, and most importantly, get the timing right.

He folds the paper at its seams before sliding it into the plastic file. He then places it back into the box before clasping the lid shut. He’s got a considerable amount of research to do to make sure you have the greatest chance of falling pregnant; he can vaguely remember the article of a study finding that women who eat yams during unprotected sex can increase the chance of giving birth to twins but-

A click yanks Jungkook away from his thoughts to the box in his hands. The bottom inch of the box slides to the left in the complete opposite direction of the lid, and it is with great wonder that he discovers there’s a small switch underneath the box hidden from view that had unlatched when he dragged the box towards him.

The first detail that caught his eye was the luxurious red velvet lining that coated all sides of the hidden compartment. He can tell it’s been well-loved by its lack of stains or rips despite having survived an entire generation. The second shocker? The pearl and diamond necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings that lay on top of the fabric. He can immediately tell this was something you couldn’t afford on your own. It was impossible that you purchased this with your father’s inheritance money as you had told him before you were saving the money for emergencies or when you want to settle down somewhere for good.

It must be your grandmother’s jewelry.

He bit his trembling bottom lip and uncoiled the heavy diamond necklace from the collection, watching the diamonds glimmer under the bright closet light. God how he wished his bank account didn’t stay so barren every month. Each gem was at least two carats and there was about eighty lining the length of the necklace from one end to the next. He could sink to the bottom of the ocean from its pure weight.

Before he can entertain himself with the thought of seeing you in this necklace with nothing else, like in Titanic, his absolute favorite romantic movie, he caught the initials on the small clasp where the two ends meet.

KNJ

Jungkook squeezed the necklace in his fist so hard the world’s strongest material would have surrendered had he not given into his broken heart. He holds his shaking shoulders, digging the diamonds into his naked biceps, and cried, and cried, and cried.

Your feet ached in your loafers. Having to deal with Jungkook’s jealousy so early in the morning, then getting your head chewed off by your boss in front of your coworkers, and then suffering through the embarrassment of having Seokjin buy you lunch because you lost your debit card had steam blowing out both ears by the time you pulled in the driveway of your apartment complex. The bite mark on your shoulder still hasn’t healed and you are trying your hardest to not let the day’s bitterness get to you by complaining to your boyfriend about it. The mark was oddly romantic but after he threw a nasty glare at your best friend of two decades, you finally understand Jungkook does a lot of unnecessary things out of jealousy under the pretense of romance.

Is he really as kind as you think he is or is he kind because he wants you to be docile and forgiving after every slip up?

You shake your head. You’re tired, you’re hungry, and most of all, you want to cuddle with your cozy boyfriend after a long day. The day is just getting to your head, that’s all.

Just as you lock your car and make your way to the elevator, rain begins to pour, small droplets thundering on the lunchbox in your hand, and then falling all at once. Your feet stomped against the concrete as you break into a job towards the elevator, watching the old man that lived down the hall drying himself inside.

“Please hold!” You call out but the old man only turns to look at you, making no attempt to keep the doors open and so you watch pathetically as the silver doors close and the elevator makes its way up to the same floor you live in.

As if your day couldn’t get worse, the lift is transparent enough for the old prick to watch you get more and more soaked as he makes his way up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You mutter under your breath as you curse not only at the old man but the way the elevator was built to be out in the open. They really couldn’t afford to put a little roof in front of the doors? The security guard in the booth next to the elevator didn’t even stir when lighting flashes, followed by an earth-shattering thunder. The building owner had the money to hire a useless guard but not enough to buy a twenty-dollar picnic umbrella from a thrift shop.

Amazing.

By the time you reach the front door of your apartment, you’re completely soaked from head to toe. You place the lunch box on top of the shoe cabinet and slip out of your loafers, wiping your feet on the door mat. Then you remove your cashmere top and skirt, shivering at the coolness of your apartment. You wring your hair on the door mat – a disgusting habit – in hopes of not bringing any moisture into the house more than you need to.

Grabbing Jungkook’s dry coat from the rack drilled next to the doorsteps, you wrap the warm material around you and make your way into the kitchen, throwing the wet clothes onto the kitchen counter.

“Jungkookie?” You look into the kitchen, expecting him to pop out from behind the polished cabinets with two glasses of wine.

You turn your head from side to side, brows furrowed in confusion as you noticed him crouching near the balcony doors.

“Kookie?” You asked again and only upon stepping closer did you notice the familiar box on the floor next to his feet, your necklaces wrapped around his fingers like snakes.

Faster than lighting you dive for his hand, the rush of madness fueling your veins to the point that you thought about shoving him towards the balcony where rain continued to pour just to hurt him. Jungkook watches you with bloodshot eyes, teeth gritted and fists tight as he pulls the jewelry out of reach.

“Those are mine!” You shouted, reaching for the diamonds as he keeps one free hand on your shoulder, pushing you away.

“You lied to me,” he snarls, his voice quiet yet you can feel his raw anger vibrate in your bones. His voice was unusually low and heavy, a complete one-eighty from the whiny boyfriend you’re used to.

“You had no right going through my stuff, Jungkook,” you glare, angry tears falling onto his lap, “this is my privacy!”

“You fucking lied to me,” he sobs, his voice rising. “I wanted to surprise you and clean your closet so you didn’t have to be stressed in the morning, noona,” he squeezes your shoulder as you reach for the jewelry again. “And I-I dropped your box by accident, I swear it was an accident. I was so afraid you were going to be mad at me-”

You growl, your eyes fixated on the jewelry.

“-but then I see that you’ve been LYING TO ME THIS WHOLE TIME!” He roars and stands, dragging you up by the shoulders with him. “You’ve been hiding EVERYTHING!”

“I didn’t lie,” you seethed, the day’s exhaustion melting off of you, “these are my jewelry, my gifts.”

He scoffs, lips pulling in a sneer. “You’re really keep pretending, noona?”

You’re not sure what aspect of his question peeled your eyes away from his jewel clad fist. It could’ve been the hurt in his voice or the fact that you were both soaked and angry. It could also have been the height difference, the way you notice you’re never going to be able to reach for his fist as he is taller, stronger, bigger.

It wasn’t until you feel the sting on your palm that you realized you’d slapped him across the face, silencing the room until all you can hear is his soft little hiccups. You’ve never laid your hands on another person until Jungkook came along. Hell, you threw an entire tantrum in grade school when riding a horse because you didn’t want to spank its behind to make it run. You’re not sure where this cruelty come from or how it manifested into a disease that grew in your hands. The last time you hit Jungkook, he was doing everything he can to protect you.

You only realize now that he was trying to do the same. In his own way, through his own insecurities, he was trying to rid Kim Namjoon’s fingerprints from your history. It wasn’t his fault that he’s blinded by rage because at the end of the day, it’s because he cares.

He loves you, and you take advantage of it.

No wonder Namjoon left you.

You’re selfish.

You’re blind.

You’re poison.

You dare to raise your eyes back up to his face from your hands and immediately sink into the blackness of his eyes. Regret immediately claims you like an eager death.

“J-Jungkook, I-I’m-” you can’t speak, can’t think, can’t respond.

Jungkook’s tears steadily fall while his lips are pulled taught. If you can touch his heart, you’re sure it’s pounding against his ribcage.

“…It’s never enough for you is it?” He asks in a voice that you’ve never heard before. “No matter how long I wait for you to come around, no matter how I’ll kill for you, how I’ll give you anything – anything – you ask for…you’re never going to love me as much as you love him, huh? You’d rather love a cheater than someone who will do any-fucking-thing you ask like a servant.” He grits his teeth. “Then go. Go back to that prick and don’t come looking when want my company but not me.”

Jungkook throws the necklace into the box laying haphazardly next to the open balcony door and turns, walking towards the shared bedroom to, you assume, fetch his clothes.

You shake your head desperately, your mouth unable to move on its own. “Kookie I’m-”

Before you can wrap your head around his words you’re running to him, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You were exhausted beyond belief, angry beyond belief, desperate beyond belief to keep the only light in your life that you keep dimming and dimming over again like you’re determined to sabotage your happiness. You don’t deserve him yet you’re selfish enough to reel him back him, choosing every weapon of choice: begging, kissing, touching, crying.

“Jungkook I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m sorry,” you cry, tightening your arms around his naked chest as you shake, cheek pressed up against his cold skin. “I’m sorry I h-hit you I’m sor-ry th-that I was upset, I didn’t mean to I swear Kookie please believe me, I love you, I love you so much, I’m sorry,” you whimper, holding still even when he attempts to shrug you off of him. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough you are more than enough, you’re everything I can ever ask for, I love you, god I love you and I’m sorry Kookie please, I’m sorry.”

You’re not sure if you’ll survive if he leaves. Everyone in your life leaves eventually; Namjoon, Yori, your parents, your friends, everyone. Jungkook is your pillar and your giver; a giver of dreams and affection. Your boyfriend with a heart of gold that is as fragile as glass yet it beats everyday for you. You’re a fucking fool to break someone so kind just because you’re having a bad day.

Jungkook has had his own share of bad days yet he comes home with a smile just for you. His meals were cooked full of love, his caresses on your scalp full of care and concern. How could you think about hitting someone as precious as him over a few diamonds and pearls? Are you really so vain that you’re willing to step over the person who loves you the most just to hold onto expensive memories? He’s worth more than everything in that little box of yours.

“Baby,” you sniffle, “I love you…I don’t care what you want to do with it…throw it away, toss it over the balcony…I don’t care.” You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of rain dripping down his broad back. “I just want you.” You worship his skin through a kiss.

Jungkook keeps his lips pulled taught, eyes narrowed on the doorknob to the master bedroom. He’s going to end it once it for all, this maddening habit of yours of hanging onto other men. Seokjin is a fucking prick that wants to get into your pants. Namjoon is a filthy rich brat that bought your heart years before. He’s had enough of it.

He’ll make sure today will be the last day you’ll hit him over a man. Today will be the last day you’ll think of him as more than just a lovesick puppy that wags his tail for your entertainment.

He’ll show you that he’s a man.

“You better keep your word this time,” he turns and you take a small step back, knees trembling when he cocks his head to one side and glares are you through his inky wet bangs. “Because you don’t want to know what will happen if I find anything, and I mean anything, noona, that belongs to him in our apartment. Do you hear me?” He demands, making you nod shakily as you back away after every step he takes towards you until the bottom of your shoulder blades brush against the kitchen counter. “I’ll drain that pig over a bucket if you put him over me ever again, do you know that?”

You nod again, hanging onto every word.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes or no?”

“Y-yes!” You put your hands on his chest. “There’s really nothing left, Kookie-ah, I promise, I-”

He hushes you with his lips, tilting your head to one side to deepen the kiss. His tongue, slippery and wet, snakes over yours with the intent to harm, the muscle pulling your mouth painfully close to his that your lips would surely bruise the next morning. It doesn’t matter. You’re willing to take what you can get because you’ve come so close to losing everything tonight.

All because of one bad workday.

You wrap your arms around his neck while he scoops you up in his arms, helping you wrap your legs around his waist so your pulsing heat can rest against his taught stomach. He undoes the small knot you secured the coat with and push the heavy fabric away from your shoulders, watching you shimmy your way out.

Cute.

He used to pepper your face with kisses, giggling when you brush your nose over his jaw and tongue his ear to tickle him as he laughs. Not tonight; tonight, he’ll make you work for it, let you walk around in his shoes.

You cup his chiseled face in your hands, admiring how angelic he looks even when his furrowed brows remain as a residue of his rage. Your cookie, your heart, your bunny. You brush your thumbs over his cheeks, admiring the very small scar on his left cheekbone that told the public that no, he’s not a walking sculpture but a human being who might as well be Rodin’s ideal muse. He’s ethereal from afar and alien up close. The way his eyes held so much power, like the edges of a supernova black hole distorting your reality until all you can focus on is the darkness that lulls you inside its abyss.

“I waited for you my whole life,” he whispers and you almost didn’t hear over the rain rattling the open balcony doors. He leans his inflamed cheek into your palm. “I don’t want to be punished for it.”

Jungkook closes his eyes when you lean into him to rest your forehead against his. He heaves a sigh, exhausted too you imagine, and nudges his face closer until his lips brush yours. Even when he wants you to work for his affection, he couldn’t help it but steal a kiss. Your rejection from this morning still damaged his pride.

“I’m the one who deserves to be hurt, not you.” You snake your hands down his chest to his belt and then back up towards his heart. “I’m n-not,” you swallow, “I’m not usually like this, I’ve just had a bad day.” You cast your eyes away. “I’m sorry I l-lied to you about throwing everything that belonged to him away. The necklaces were given to me after I was engaged and I just…I don’t know why I kept it still even though I’ll never wear it but I just…”

You sigh, your watery eyes holding his steel gaze. “I love you. I-I don’t want to lose you Jungkookie,” your lips tremble and you tighten your hold around his neck. “Please don’t leave me…I know I’ve hurt you but please don’t leave, I don’t know what I’ll do,” you tuck your face under his jaw, “if you leave me.”

Jungkook presses his cheek against your wet hair and inhales softly through his nose. He knows you don’t realize how easy it is for him to play on your fears. Your fear of people – of men you love – leaving you, your fear of losing control, doing something you don’t mean. Your perfectionist nature was so easy to work with that he almost wants to toy with you a little more. For a brief moment he enjoys having the upper hand in the relationship. Sometimes it’s exhausting to always be the one that feared for an ugly fight that can lead to the end. It feels healthier to show this side of him a little more so you understand your privilege; after all, it’s not everyday that you’ll find a man who’ll give you a baby just to keep you close.

“There’s nothing I won’t do for you,” you snivel softly in his ear, “I love you so much.”

Jungkook tightens his hold around your waist and drags his feet towards the bedroom door. You hold still, fingers weaving through the ends of his hair.

“Can you please say it back?” You begged pathetically, unable to take his silence any longer. You missed your sweet whiny, clingy, giggly boyfriend, the boyfriend that couldn’t go a single day without telling you how much he loves you.

Your heart pounds in your chest when you realize he’s still upset.

His strong hands unravel around your hips and he pulls you away, setting your body on the soft, messy mattress. You wipe the moisture from your eyes with the back of your hand and watch him straddle your thighs between his knees, placing the lightest amount of pressure to keep you down. You were still waiting to hear the three magical words but they don’t come.

You messed up this time.

Jungkook pulls the straps of your brassiere down your shoulders, letting you bend at the elbows to bring the embroidered material down to your navel. He reaches behind the curve of your waist and unlatches the bra, throwing it to the side with one hand while the other reaches behind him and tug your panties down your bottom with a harsh tug. You lift your hips against him and let him roll your panties down your thighs, over your knees, and down your ankles. You’ve been in this position many times, but you’ve never felt as naked as you do now.

“What do you want me to do?” You ask with wide, oblivious eyes, wanting to do just about anything to please him. Jungkook merely shakes his head.

“This isn’t for you.”

It hurt more than you thought hearing those words fall from his sweet, pink lips.

He presses his nose against your jugular and nibble on the skin, teeth sharp and painful against the epidermis. You suck in a breath and bite your tongue as he moves to do the same to the opposite side of the neck, meanwhile peeling your legs open to settle his core against your wet center. Your hands stay still on his hard shoulders, moving along with his ministrations to keep yourself grounded to his touch.

A breathy moan brushes past his ears when he latches his teeth onto your left nipple, tonguing the bud into the swollen tissue before wrapping his mouth around the areola. You squirm underneath his body, body warming, ears rushing with blood. His wet jeans rub against your inner thighs to remind you that he’s been near the balcony for god knows how long. He must’ve been so cold, so heartbroken, so betrayed, while you were at work rolling your eyes to Jin poking fun at his jealousy.

Jungkook pulls back to eye the bite mark on your shoulder and the nudge his way towards the opposite breast, practicing the same caresses with the tip of his tongue. You can tell he’s purposely making every flick of tongue as painful as possible for you. You don’t argue because you know you’ll never learn from this mistake if he doesn’t drill it into you.

“You belong to me, noona.”

You exhale and look down at his hands moving towards his belt, tugging the leather apart and pulling the silver button open along with the zipper beneath. It was with great relief that you realize your baby boy is back, even if it’s for the briefest moment, his voice desperate and whiny, just the way you liked it.

You watch the veins on his forearm protrude as he grasps his hardness at the base and smears his dripping precum over the surface. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, breaths shallow as he jacks off to the image of you spread so shamelessly for him, bent knees pulled apart while you pet your swollen nipples with one hand, the other laying limp next to your head in surrender.

“Every part of you is mine,” he whimpers, cheeks flushed, his wet bangs rocking back and forth with every tug of his cock. “You only get to wear what I buy you.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes…”

The loveliest groan escapes his lips when he pushes his weeping tip against your clit, rocking his hips slowly to watch his slick drip onto your thick and curly pubic hair. His eyes follow along your taught stomach up to your navel where, once the time is right, he’ll see it stretch slowly when his child grows inside you. He can already imagine how needy you will be as an expecting mother, how he’ll have the pleasure to palm your aching breasts filled with milk. He thought it was impossible to be as hard as he is already, but the pulsing in his cock hammers blood through the tip and a small spurt of cum falls onto your clit.

He doesn’t give enough time for you to prepare for his length as he rams the head of his cock into your slit, and fucks your body up to the edge of the bed where he holds the side of the mattress and crashes his soaked hips down to your center. You choke on a moan and a scream, fingers grasping his fists as you lift your hips in a bow to accommodate all of him.

“Yes, baby,” you cry, “use me all you want. I’m yours!”

Sweat sticks to his temples and you struggle to wipe away the perspiration when he’s ramming into you so hard your vision blackens. From the tips of your fingers to the ends of the toes, your body vibrates with uncontrollable fire. The head of his cock strikes into your silken walls with the intent to rip you apart from the inside. He’s dripping steadily in you, lacquering your walls with white opalescent cum that feels as scorching hot as his skin.

“Fuck…fuck,” he grips the edge of the mattress harder, pulling his hips back until the tip of his cock rests in your cavern, and then slamming himself inside all over again. Your fluids squelch as he enters, dripping over the zipper of his jeans. “It feels so good, noona, you make me feel so good,” he rests his forehead against your bitten shoulder, his hips moving on its own like a piston. Not even a line of coke will feel as good as your pussy does clamping down on his throbbing erection. He swears he can feel your cervix trembling against him.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” you promise, cupping his face while he continues to pout at how little threshold he has for pleasure. You can tell when he’s about to lose control by the way he clenches his eyes shut and the veins on his neck stands for attention. He empties inside with a growl, grinding his hips completely down onto your sex to keep his cum from dripping out. He stays still only for a few seconds to catch his breath.

You couldn’t capture his lips when he pulls away to sit back on his heels and watch the base of his cock pulse slowly until he softens. He pins your knees up to your chest and pulls out before clamping his mouth over your pussy gleaming with his fluids. He gathers the cum between your folds, across your labia and underneath your clit onto the tip of his tongue. Then, spreading your folds apart with his thumb and index finger, he spits onto your hole, his tongue pushing the fluids in further while you squirm and curl your toes into the sheets.

“Jungkook,” you moan in embarrassment, your hand darting up to your face to cover your red cheeks.

As if you couldn’t feel more naked, he chuckles. “You taste the best when you’re shy, noona.”

You catch your breath while watching him tug his soaked jeans down his thighs, the stubborn material slipping off only when he rips the material an inch down its center. Scared that he might still be upset, you pull your body onto your elbows, then onto your knees. It was only when you can sense his forgiveness in the air that you trail your fingers up his arms and towards his shoulders.

“Can you make me cum too?” You tempt him, arching your back while you place his palm onto your heavy breast.

He nods gingerly, captivated by your pink nose and cheeks. You’re so beautiful when you cry; Jungkook has to fight back asking you to call him a good boy. He has the woman of his dreams wanting him to touch her, he couldn’t ask for any other luxury.

“Only if you say please.”

You shake your head, suppressing a smile when he sticks his tongue through his cheek at the rejection. Riling him up when he’s pissed is not the best thing to do, but the temptation was hard to resist. Taking back your status as his lover, caretaker, and owner, you push him gently back onto the mattress and throw one leg over his chest, wiggling your bottom while you palm his inner thighs and dig your nails into his hard muscle.

“Please, baby?”

Jungkook traces his thumb down your ass and circles your clit ever so slowly. You wiggle your hips again and sink your mouth down onto his semi-hard cock without warning, making him jump out of his skin and snap his back away as you chase after him. You use your own slick leftover on his solid length to lube your middle finger and rim his tight hole.

“G-god, noona!” He throws his head back into the mattress with a thump, sweat prickling its way down his abdomen, down his happy trail, and into the crook of his thighs.

There’s my baby boy.

You roll your tongue over the tip and keep your teeth tucked as you swallow him. With his curved erection, it was difficult to swallow without triggering your gag reflex but damn it you just wanted to please your boyfriend. Clamping down on the inside of his thighs with your nails to keep him spread, you pull back and spit down his length, regaining a sense of clarity when his tongue curves into your folds once more. If it wasn’t for Jungkook hooking his thick arms around your thighs to keep you locked in place, you would’ve fallen onto his face.

When your knees buckle he pull away, prolonging your orgasm with just the right amount of pressure in your womb to keep you aching.

You grip him hard in a fist and move up and down, pulling his foreskin taught. Your tongue dips between the gap of his balls and circles his tight, blushing hole. His choked whimper tells you all you need to know about where your tongue needed to press. Just when Jungkook tilts his head to the side to see your hair fall over your shoulders, he feels your nail curl slowly into his weeping slit. You look behind when you feel his gaze.

“Does this feel good, baby?” You inquire with the most innocent expression you can muster. He would have came immediately if he wasn’t so enamored with your perfect pussy so close to his tongue.

“D-Don’t, uh, tease me.”

You giggle, watching his eyes glaze over when you pump him harder, the small squelches from his cum making your insides clench with glee.

“Let me watch you cum first,” you whisper and keep pumping whilst grinding your hips down onto his fingers.

Jungkook gathers as much strength as he can and slips his middle and ring finger inside you, unraveling only when he feels his fluids resting on your milky walls. His breath hitches in his throat and every muscle in his body tenses, spurts of his milk catching in your hair, on your lips, and jaw.

You could look at his face forever; his rosy lips parted, the same shade as his cheeks, overwhelmed tears panting his thick lashes, his eyebrows furrowed, his bangs glossy and wavy around his face. Jungkook was an addiction.

Just the sight of him alone makes your wet sleeve tighten around his fingers. You follow his high, reaching down to circle your clit slowly as you grind down on his fingers.

Jungkook’s eyes widen upon realization and he curls his fingers inside, helping you reach that place between reality and an illusion. The warmth, the lightness, the nirvana that an orgasm from a lover brings you – irreplaceable.

“Kookie…” you sigh, your bones melting on the spot under his loving stare.

You lay your cheek on his thigh, catching your breath first, before crawling towards him to nestle your face in his shoulder.

“I love you more,” he tells you at last, bringing you back to earth.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and brings him down to your chest. He pulls your body close with one hand on your waist and wraps his mouth around your breasts, suckling softly, moaning his forgiveness into your skin.

Your breathing steadies as you listen to the rain and the soft nibbling of his teeth around your bud. You’re not sure when you succumbed to the exhaustion that nestled deep in your psyche, but by the time Jungkook finish showering your breasts with the love and attention they deserve, you lay limp in his arms.

It would be so easy, Jungkook thought, watching your naked chest rise and fall as he thumbs the faint trail of veins on your neck, to dig his knife into your throat and drain you. It was captivating to watch as he dragged his fingertips across the stretch of muscles underneath, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you struggle to keep yourself awake. If you opened your eyes, you can still see your glistening juices painted on his bottom lip, his pink tongue darting out to take the remaining sweetness back into his mouth as if he couldn’t bear the thought of wasting a drop of your honey. Your skin was smooth to the touch, only scars from hormonal acne during your youth remaining on the back of your arms and back. A musky scent of sex and cologne drifts around you like the humid summer air of Seoul.

Jungkook snakes his hand up your chest and feels your heart beating under his palm. He then slumps down on the cotton pillow next to you, heaving a sigh of satisfaction, lifting the sheets up to cover your weakened body.

Jungkook lifted his hand up to your pink cheeks and swiped the stray tears that stained down your temples. He leans forward and slides his tongue along your lips, groaning when your lips move sluggishly against him in an attempt to please him, even in your sleep. It made him feel powerful, wanted, needed.

Once again, you’re his to keep.

As long as you’re a prisoner to his heart, he’ll be your servant and your loving boyfriend who will always serve you like a goddess. He’ll remain pious, as long as you remain his woman only. Through fights, through sex, through tears, through laughter, he’ll etch away every memory you held of other men until the only thing you’ll see is his rabbit smile.

“Welcome home, noona.”

“I really don’t understand why we couldn’t do this later.” The plump woman groaned, walking down the carpeted hallway next to a man that was at least half a foot taller. She wore a black wrap dress with a matching black coat, her hands deep in her pockets. Her cheeks were soft and round, the lovebird blush on the cheekbones giving her a youthful color that had her lover soppy on the inside. She looked rather normal and plain compared to her modelesque partner who stood out like a sore thumb with his lab coat and turtleneck. It would have been a sweet date if they weren’t on the way to blackmail two men.

Her eyes dart from one side to another, beady pupils following the sound of the air conditioner. Now where was room again? Hong Kong really is a maze.

“Meerkat Manor will come again next Tuesday.”

“Oh that’s rich, Tae” she roll her eyes, “as if you’re not working six days a week, every week of the year. This was the only time we could watch it together without you passing out every other episode.”

He stays quiet, absorbing every detail of the hallway from the tacky mock-chandelier light fixtures to the royal purple doorknobs. The building reeked of cheap prostitutes and boxed wine.

Jungkook really has him flying to such an unsavory place just to stop a man in South Korea from developing a crush on this precious ‘noona’ of his. God, the things he does for his little brother. First, the pregnancy, and now Kim Seokjin’s men. He’ll dream of retirement when he’s dead.

“Keep your tone light and remember to use these if you need to.” He tapped the side of her thigh where his scalpels are strapped. “Play it safe.”

Taehyung has always had a sharp sense of direction, which always irked his lover for reasons unknown. In a job like this, no one can risk not knowing. It’s the survival of the fittest.

The door to Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi’s apartment was two doors down from where they were standing. There’s very little room for failure.

Taehyung unstrapped the pistol from the back of his dress pants and loaded the gun, keeping it pointed down and away from his lover. He stood a foot away, back glued to the wall as she knocked once, and then twice, on the wood.

“Excuse me,” she yelped in Cantonese, giving another hard knock. “Is there a Jung and Min here?”

The lock unlatches after a few seconds and a man whose voice can only be described as tired and smoky, responded.

“We don’t have any money,” he said in broken Cantonese. “Um…uh, room service…uh…no need, okay?”

The woman tilted her head at him and smiled, noticing that he is, in fact, armed by the way his cheap blazer couldn’t hide the bulky leather gun-strap underneath. She shrugged off her coat and hiked one side of her dress upwards, inquiring if there are…other services, he might need.

Yoongi, looking back and forth from his boyfriend making eggs in the kitchen to the woman standing with one side of her dress hiked, scratches his ears in frustration.

“Um…the service,” he started in Cantonese and groaned, reminding himself to scour for a new apartment in a better town. He was already late to a meeting with the district police.

It was only when he took a step forward to kick the woman out for good that he saw a figure in the corner of his eyes. He was only able to take one glimpse at the man – the aristocratic nose, the blank expression, the black neatly-combed hair – to realize something didn’t feel right.

That was when the woman grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face onto her bare knee, a resounding crack giving her the confidence she needed to slip her scalpel out and hold it against his jugular.

“Move, and I’ll slit your throat.”

Taehyung quickly tugged the sides of Yoongi’s blazer upwards and stuffed both pistols in his back pocket, keeping his lover in charge as he walks into the apartment with an ease of a husband coming back from work.

“Hello, officer Jung.”

Yoongi can vaguely hear the sound of a pan dropping from in the kitchen, and it was with great relief that the woman holding him at knife-point kicked him back into the apartment. He held his broken nose with both hands and rolled inside, kneeling at the doorstep as he stayed glued to the floor. The carpet was doing a great job of sucking up his fluids. His eyes, however, remains on the gun pointed towards his boyfriend, dressed in a simple pair of pajamas and an apron, who began to walk towards the armed man.

“What do you want?” Hoseok asked, keeping his hands in the air. “Did Li send you?”

Taehyung shook his head. “I have no ties with your associates.”

“T-Then what’s this-?” Hoseok asked again, eyes widening when he realized Yoongi’s nose is crushed. His partner splutters blood over the house slippers he kept next to the entrance to the bathroom.

“I need you to stop working with Kim Seokjin.”

Yoongi feels the scalpel press against his skin harder, a bead of blood falling onto his shaky hands.

“Jin?”

Taehyung nodded. “Yes.”

Hoseok focused on the man’s face, then Yoongi, then the knife pressed against Yoongi’s neck.

He nods eagerly, agreeing on the spot. “I-I will, just let Yoongi go, I promise I will.”

Taehyung pulls back the hammer with his thumb, causing Yoongi to struggle as he trembles on the floor. Hoseok’s eyes begin to water but he keeps his gaze focused on Taehyung’s uneven eyelids. This wasn’t the time to show any weaknesses.

“This means there will be no contact with you and Kim Seokjin whatsoever. No emails, phone calls, or letters. You will not send him information about anyone, dead or alive.”

“You’ll have my word.” Hoseok nods.

“And one more thing,” Taehyung walks over to the laptop settled next to the bed on the nightstand, tapping it once before moving the gun back to position. “I want you to email Seokjin with my exact words before you cut all ties.”

Taehyung pushes the barrel against Hoseok’s shoulder and rests his index finger on the trigger.

“Tell him…if he minds his own business,” the barrel pushes harder, “he’ll have two working arms.”

Bang

“Did you hear something?”

He glances nervously at the open bedroom door. You sit up on the bed, shivering when the air conditioning rattles awake and rain continues to pound against the bedroom windows. Jungkook groans while he shuts off the storm alert on his cellphone.

“It’s just the wind, Kookie, come back to bed.”

He rolls towards you and places his head on your lap, his lips pushed against the small pouch of fat on your lower belly. It was obvious neither of you are getting a full night sleep. Sex didn’t nearly solve as many problems as they wish it had. Not to mention, guilt hung around your neck like a stone every time you catch a glimpse of his slightly swollen cheek.

Jungkook had been awake for most of the night, his heart refusing to calm because he’s utterly, completely, absolutely happy. He notices that you couldn’t sleep much tonight either, a sign that he’s gotten under your skin, but he continues to worship your body every time your breathing evens and you curl against his side. He kisses every inch – from the space between your fingers to the crook of your legs. He palms your shapely body with the heel of his hand, massaging his way down your waist and stretchmarked hips.

He prays that when the time comes, you’ll bless him with a child that would hammer the last nail to this cage he built for you to stay in. He can just imagine your belly stretching farther and farther as the months pass. He wonders if you’ll taste just as sweet on his tongue, or maybe, you’ll be even sweeter? It was thrilling to prepare for this new future. He’s not sure what to expect as you are his first and only love. You might be scared at first, you might even break his heart a little when you panic, but it’s nothing the relationship can’t withstand. You are a responsible woman and he’s the love of your life; isn’t that all you need in a relationship? Just love?

A child will be a proof of that. The baby will be just as intelligent and educated as you but also as caring and protective like him; a perfect split between two loving parents. It would be a little difficult for a few years to take care of a baby and he would have to deal with receiving only half your attention. However, he knows it’ll be worth the exhaustion in the long run.

He’ll finally have the family of his dreams.

But first, he needs to settle the foundation to begin your journey towards motherhood. A little dose of empathy here and there, a little bit of his story sprinkled in between, a little bit more terror, more vulnerability on his part. He’ll have to expose a few unpleasant things so you’ll understand that he does have a justifiable reason for the pouty, clingy mess that he is.

“I just-” Jungkook hesitates, sitting up on the edge of the bed, but you sense his nervousness immediately and pull him closer.

“What is it?” You swallow. Please don’t be mad at me, Jungkook. Please.

“Storms scare me,” he confesses. “I hate loud noises…but you always make me feel safe here though. You’re going to protect me, aren’t you?” His attempt to lighten the mood was pathetic to say the least, but you don’t mind. You couldn’t take the silence when you startle awake every hour, finding Jungkook awake every time, staring at the mirror cabinet in the bathroom. Each time you succumb to subconscious, you couldn’t help but worry that maybe he’s thinking about leaving you in the morning. Maybe he thinks keeping you isn’t worth it.

Your lips pull into an uncertain smile and the corner of his sleepy eyes crinkle at the sight. “I’d do anything for my baby.”

“Tch,” he lightly slaps your arm away.

You sensed that he was shy about his fears and drops the subject in hopes of not embarrassing him any further. However, you needed to address the elephant in the room and Jungkook couldn’t meet your eyes knowing that you’re on the verge of tears yet again.

While you were bathing in fear, he was so happy inside he could die.

“Kookie…” you turn to him again, your eyes roaming over his long, thick lashes. “I’m sorry for everything.”

He catches his bottom lip under his rabbit teeth and cast his eyes towards the floor. Taking the sheets with him, he covers your bare body and takes your fingers in his hands, bringing it up to his lips. You watch him linger on your ring finger – where Namjoon’s ring once adorned – and flash you a knowing smile, swallowing the pain down.

“I…” he sighs, not sure how to approach the subject. It was rare to see such vulnerability on your part that he couldn’t help but take advantage of your kindness. Just a little though, just enough for you to keep that guilt alive no matter where you go and who you talk to.

“I wish you didn’t have to hit me, noona.” He swallows once more, knowing this is the only chance he’ll have to tell you the truth. He wants to sew that guilt deep inside your heart so you’ll never dare to hurt him again. “I know you were angry…and I know I’m just as unreasonable when I’m angry…but I don’t want to end up like my parents.”

You place a comforting hand on his back despite the heavy pressure weighing your heart down to your stomach. Jungkook throws a cautious glance at your face and continues when he sees he has your full support.

He focuses his eyes first on the alarm clock flashing four with bold red numbers, then gathers the courage to meet your eyes.

“My mom…um….my mom used to hit dad and I for most of my childhood,” he confesses, voice small and shaky yet you can sense the strength it took for him to say it out loud. It doesn’t make it any less easier for you to swallow the guilt. You’ve been physical with someone who’d suffered unimaginable trauma at a young age and in both times that you’ve hit him, his thoughts were all about you. If someone offered to break every bone in your body at the moment, you’d take the deal.

“He wasn’t the best either b-but um…” he takes your free hand in his, shakily brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. He squirms in discomfort, licking his lips every now and then while he tries to find his words. “I-I promised myself I won’t end up like him.”

You pull his head in your chest, letting him rest his weight. He sniffles then, shuddering when you wipe away the stray tears that glistened in the glow that the streetlights outside offered. He can feel that warmth again – your love – that’s created all for him. This is where he belongs, this is where he’s meant to be.

“I’m so sorry, baby, oh my god…I’m sorry.” You coo, wrapping your arms around him at last. His shoulders are too wide for your arms, but you take what you can get. You need to learn that you’re not the only person with boundaries, with a history of trauma, in this relationship. Your sweet boyfriend had been suffering silently behind your back too.

“I’ll never, ever, lay my hands on you like that, Kookie. I mean it. I-” you blink back yours tears, knowing the texts from his mom in your memory never settled comfortably, “I’ll never hurt you again. God J-Jungkook, I can’t imagine-”

He nods, nuzzling his cheeks closer to your heart. “It’s okay, noona, you didn’t know-”

“No!” You shake your head. “It’s not okay. It’s n-not okay for me to do that. I’m supposed to take care of you yet I…I’ve done nothing but hurt you. Oh baby,” you brush his bangs back and place a tender kiss on his hairline. He wraps his arms around you in return, rubbing his cheeks into your naked breast.

“I’m not lying when I said I’ve waited my whole life for you.” He exhales, letting you comb his hair gently through your fingers. “You’ve given me everything I’ve always dreamed of. It still feels like…like a prank sometimes. When are you going to disappear…when are you going to fall for someone else…I get scared when I think of things like that.”

“Why would I leave you, Kookie?” You hold him tighter.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know…I think I’m just scared it’ll eventually happen because I-I know I have issues and I’m not that educated and I’m-“

“Stop!” You grab his face, holding both his cheeks in your hands. “Don’t say things like that about yourself! Understand?”

He holds your wrists. “Noona-”

“I mean it. I don’t care about your job or your past. I. Don’t. Care! I love you and only you. No matter how blind I am to it sometimes,” You peck him softly on his chin, “you’re mine to take care of and mine to love. There’s no other man that has my heart.”

Jungkook’s fists shakes. Endure it a little longer, don’t let her see how happy you are. Endure it!

He nods eagerly. “Do you promise?”

“Of course, baby, of course I promise.”

His eyes glow. “Truly? You won’t hit me, won’t leave me, won’t look at another man?”

You roll his earlobes in between your fingers and capture his lips, sealing the promise. “Never…I’m all yours. I want to care for you and be yours, always.”

Like music to his ears.

He sighs in relief. “Oh, noona…”

He wanted to relive this moment forever and hear those words repeat over and over again in his head. He wanted to call Taehyung and tell him that he finally found his family. After all those years of walking home from school with bruises, starving on the streets, sleeping in a bedroom that smelled of urine, he reaches paradise. If he thought he’d reached heaven on the day he swore to kill for you, he doesn’t know how to describe his frame of mind now.

“Can I…can I ask you for a favor?”

You straddle his lap, wanting every inch of your body to be encased in his heat. “Anything, baby.”

“Can I call you mommy?” He pouts, encircling his arms around your waist. “It helps, you know? W-with, um…with some of these thoughts I have…”

The small bout of silence instantly turns his stomach sour. Did he go too far? Was this not the time to play out the fantasies he had in his head? Before he had the chance to curse himself for ruining the moment, you squirm into his lap. An invitation.

“It’s okay baby,” you reassure him, seeing the stars in his eyes glow even more. He’s ecstatic, in awe even, and if his rapid heartbeat didn’t tell you his adorable expression sure did. “You’re my baby boy.”

He crashes his lips onto your swollen ones and press you down onto the bed. His fingers tangle in your hair first then with your fingers before he pushes your arms above your head, his eagerness resulting in a clumsy effort to find his place between your legs. You giggle and play your part, whispering sweet praises while he tells you how much he loves you, how you’re meant for him, how you’re his soulmate, a lover, a friend, a confidant, a mother.

“Mom-my,” he whimpers, voice cracking. He chants, over and over again, unable to get enough of your caresses and praises. “You make me feel so good, mommy, you’re so beautiful, all mine…mommy…mommy…mommy…”

You feel the sting of his penetration when he impatiently enters, just needing to be inside you and feel your pulse. He’s never looked so surreal above you, face coated with sweat and tears, cheeks as rosy as the first plum blossom in spring. He’s a walking sculpture carved from the loveliest marble. Your needy baby boy, your Jungkookie, your boyfriend with a heart made of glass.

It wasn’t until much later in the morning, when the sun has risen and the rain ceased, that you spend your own time worshipping him. Your heart aches at the thought of someone, especially the parents that were supposed to love and support him, laying their hands on someone so pure and sweet. You think back to the times you asked for his baby pictures or his past and finding him uncomfortably shifting his gaze away or avoiding the subject altogether. It must have been painful for him to endure your interrogations and your passive aggressive behavior; you finally realize now that he wasn’t annoyed with you but was afraid of your judgement. It must’ve been a habit for him to think of the worst-case scenario. He didn’t grow up in a safe place.

Actually, he didn’t grow up with a home at all.

A shack somewhere in Busan with no running water or electricity or a school that was close enough for a child to walk safely to. Just by watching the polite way he spoke to people at his gallery and admiring his ethereally handsome appearance, no one could guess he was a victim of neglect and abuse.

It wasn’t until he brings you to the balcony, where the morning wind blows through his deep chocolate hair and the smell of orange blossoms whisk around your body, that he settles you onto his lap and brings your fingers over the small scar on his cheekbones.

“I think you should know where this came from, noona…”

879 notes · View notes