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aquagustd · 3 years ago

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hell is empty - JJK, KTH

04.2 FEEL THE RUSH ༄moodboard

life has a tendency to throw things your way when you least expect it, when you’re content, and the ominous presence knows exactly how to steer your existence back into the darkness.

prev | series masterlist | next [chapter summaries under masterlist]

pairing — drug lord!jungkook x reader, hotel owner!taehyung x reader

genre/rating — R | angst, fluff, smut, love triangle au

word count — 8K

listen to — void by the neighbourhood

warning/tags — single parent!reader, dad!jk, ceo!taehyung, pharmacy tech!reader, strong language, mentions of stalking, mentions of a knife + gun, mentions of blood, a lot of jealousy, mentions of constipation again, passive aggressive jk, possessive taehyung, pda, flashback to mint tae 👁, another important character is introduced, manhandling, explicit smut — praise/degradation, body worship, dirty talk, hickeys, multiple orgasms, panty stuffing, restraints in the form of a belt, oral (f), fingering, spitting, rough sex, doggy style, edging, overstimulation, protected sex, mild aftercare

a/n — here it is ! part 02 to part 04 👁

eomma - mother

“You should leave.”

Your question is aimed at Seojoon who lingers behind you, burning holes into Jungkook’s skull with his gaze. At your words, he looks down at you a little shocked. But you can’t bring yourself to return his sorrowful smile. Something about the way he held you sends another chill down your spine. One that seems freakishly familiar. Crossing your hands over your tummy, you make room for him to step out. But Jungkook doesn’t.

He stands toe to toe with Seojoon, then dashes him with a hefty bump of his shoulder as he makes his way in, hands held behind his back.

“That was Seojoon,” you hear yourself say, hovering about the hallway entrance.

Jungkook tucks into the slit between your curtains with one finger, peeking out the window for a moment before he turns around, producing a ball of socks.

You take it from him with pinched brows, only realizing what it is when he speaks with a hushed voice. Surprising you.

“Junho left his uh…socks at my place,” he begins, one hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear, “he left some other stuff too.”

You’re still staring at the navy-blue ball, “oh, thanks.”

Silence falls over you, the only sounds being the refrigerator and the soft whirring of the AC. He doesn’t bother to fill the muted room with words. And neither do you. Especially when the events from earlier today return to the forefront of your mind upon meeting his gaze.

You jerk your hand up slightly, a wordless request for him to leave. But his jaw twitches, dark eyes flickering behind you.

“Where’s Junho?”

“He’s been in the bathroom for the past hour,” you bark, tossing the balled-up socks across the room, “suffering.”

“What? Why?”

You scoff, dismissing his questions by turning on your heel and marching down the hall to the bathroom, trying once more with a light knock on the door.

“Hey smiley, you okay in there?”

“Yes! Don’t come in!” A splash is followed by his words, and you’ve never been more comforted by that sound before in your life. Knowing that he’ll be okay.

Your hand flies to your chest when you spin around to find Jungkook standing behind you, fists bumping into his pecs.

If you were to squint, you think you’d see a hint of worry in those round, emotionless eyes.

“What’s going on? Is he okay?”

His hot breath wafts over your face, prompting you to shuffle around him and return to your spot on the couch, picking up your phone from the coffee table.

“He’s constipated.”

He pauses on the other end of the coffee table, fists clenching and unclenching.

“Because of you.”

“Me?” He spits, anger seeping through his voice, “how is that possible?”

You set down your phone, tone pragmatic, “what did he eat when he was with you?”

Jungkook’s gaze bounces around the room, another round of silence surrounds you as you watch him search for an answer. Finally, his gaze returns to yours, a crease forming between his brows.

“He wanted donuts, so I got him those. We prepared a late lunch, but he didn’t want to eat anything. He wanted ice-cream. I think that’s it.”

You sigh deeply, smoothing a loose strand of hair away from your face, “any snacks in between?”

Jungkook scratches his chin, “we shared a bucket of gummy worms and Cheetos after.”

Patting your thighs, you spring up from the couch, arms folded in front of you, “it is your fault.”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“You asked to let him spend the night,” you screech, arms flung up in the air with exasperation, “I assumed that you know how to take care of a five-year-old!”

He opens his mouth then clamps it shut, shuffling over to you with four loud thumps of his boots. Reflexively, you feel yourself swallow as he gets closer, backing up into the kitchen counter.

“He’ll be six soon,” he mutters, voice a lot softer than a few seconds ago, but you can tell by the tick in his jaw that he’s struggling to keep his composure for whatever reason, “he should know what’s not good for him.”

Your eyes bug out of your head, chin tipped up so you can level his stare, “you’re kidding me, right? He’s a fucking child! What you said just proves my point.”

“What point?”

“That you’d be a fucking useless father.”

Fear travels from your toes to the top of your head when he looms closer, malice dripping in his voice as he places a hand on the counter behind you, slotted between your hip and the granite. Despite the way he bares his teeth, a concoction of sorrow and terror filling your heart at his biting gaze, you can’t bring yourself to regret the words you just uttered. Because it’s the truth and he needs to hear it.

“I’m still his father,” he grits, nose nearly touching yours when he dips down, “whether you like it or not.”

Drawing in a deep breath, you speak with a brittle voice, “you’re his father now. Suddenly. All those years ago you didn’t want him.”

He doesn’t blink, neither do you, like if you look close enough into his simmering eyes, you would find out how he’s plotting to kill you. You’re biting your cheek, nails pressing into the palms of your hands to prevent the tears from spilling.

“What changed?”

Again, he opens his mouth and closes it a few times before his gaze meanders from your face to your hand, gripping the bread knife you had kept on the counter. A gasp tumbles from your lips when he yanks your wrist and brings it up to his neck, pressing the blade to his throat with his fingers wrapped around yours.

“Do it.”

You feel your lips quiver, knees nearly buckling when he tips his head up, silver blade catching the angled light in your kitchen. Your heart clenches in your chest, breaths like stuttered puffs of air.

“Jungkook.”

“That’s what you want to do, isn’t it? So do it. Come on!”

His voice is strained, caught by the serrations on the knife while you’re struggling to find yours, hearing a whimper leave your lips when his knees press into your thighs, pushing you further back while you feel your hands go limp, unable to keep it up as you watch a slow trickle of blood run down his neck. His doe eyes twinkle with the light, shaking with an indecipherable emotion.

You shut your eyes, lips sucked in to prevent the sobs that collate under your ribs when he finally lets your hand go, the clank of the knife startling you once he pulls away.

“Still,” he mumbles, running a hand across his neck then holding it up as if it’s not crimson but clear like sweat, “you’re still holding on to that. That tells me a lot.”

Cheeks cool with tears, you trudge after him on shaky legs, reaching out to grip his arm. He spins around, head hung low.

“What does that tell you?” You whisper, gasping when he yanks his arm out of your hold and paces to the door.

For a moment, his eyes droop at the corners when he glances at you with pursed lips, tattooed hand curling around the door handle. You wish you could repeat your question, take a step closer, but the weight of his stare keeps you in place, tired eyes refusing to let more tears fall.

“Bring Junho to my place tomorrow.”

Just like that, he puts an end to the conversation, and the burgeoning fire pinching at your nerves once the door slams shut behind him. You shove your knuckles into your eyes, pushing them as deep as they can go, as if that would erase that final look he gave you before he left. One that you know all too well.

Nearly half an hour has passed and Junho hasn’t come out yet. You drum your fingers on the steering wheel, hand kept on the seatbelt buckle as you prepare to step out when your worry becomes unbearable. You’re one of the last cars parked and waiting for their kids. Usually, he’d be out by now.

It’s been Junho’s first week at his new school. Moonchild’s Academy for boys. It was a tough decision to make, but with Taehyung’s encouragement you had finally decided that it would be good for Junho to start off there. One of the main reasons why you were hesitant to go through with it was the fees. But Taehyung had assured that he’d help out because it was his idea. And he thinks that Junho deserves the best education, even if he just started pre-school. You had given in of course, after some persuasion. The other reason was that you weren’t sure how Junho would adapt to the new environment.

The school’s code of conduct was a fifty-page booklet, filled with numerous policies and regulations that you don’t think you could ever keep up with. You couldn’t imagine how Junho would manage. Taehyung had said that it comes with the territory of being in an all boy, private school. Strict regulations with strict teachers.

He attended the same school from tenth grade, and you think he turned out to be a fine gentleman. You didn’t need to be convinced any further after that piece of information.

Now you’re sat outside the gate, chest pressing into the wheel while you try to spot your son with narrowed eyes.

You feel relief drown out your worry when you finally see him push through the double doors. Grinning to yourself, you step out of the car and wave him over, smile faltering when you find an unfamiliar man holding his hand.

“Mamma!”

“Smiley!”

Crouching down on one knee, you coddle him to your chest, pressing a kiss into the crown of his head before tugging his backpack off his shoulders. You don’t think you could ever get used to seeing him wear uniform. He looks so cute.

“Did you have a good day?”

“Hi.”

Having forgotten that someone accompanied him to your car today, you spring up with mild surprise, accepting the tall man’s handshake.

“Hey.”

He fiddles with a pink piece of paper in his hand, two dimples making an appearance when he looks to Junho who jumps into the car, clearly impatient.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, school counsellor.”

“Oh,” you chuckle, giving him your name with matched enthusiasm, “nice to meet you.”

“Likewise—” he thrusts the pink paper in your direction, the other hand points to Junho who’s now calling for you from inside the car “—I wanted to give you this.”

Once you read the bold writing at the top, you can’t hide your panic.

“Oh my God, is he in trouble? Already? I’m gonna—”

“No, no,” he snorts, palms held up placatingly, “he’s not in any kind of trouble. It’s just a short meeting we have with new parents of the school.”

You smooth a hand down your neck, attempting to read the fine print at the bottom, “oh, okay.”

“Yes, but there are a few things that we need to discuss regarding Junho’s home environment.”

Your head snaps up, “home environment?”

He nods, slotting his hands into his black slacks, “at the request of one of his teachers.”

You swallow thickly, “oh.”

“No need to worry, we’ll talk Monday.”

With that he steps around you to wave at Junho, leaving you to scrutinize the pink slip with more worry and confusion than you had before. Choosing not to think about it for now, you drive out of the gates, monitoring Junho in the rear-view mirror.

You know not to bombard him with questions right after school, but today you can’t help yourself.

“Hey smiley?”

He’s loosening his tie, rummaging through the overnight bag you packed earlier this morning.

“Where’s my phone?”

“In the front pouch. How was school today? Did anything fun happen?”

“Nope,” he responds absentmindedly, shrugging off his dark green coat, “did you pack my Aston Martin?”

“Yes, it’s in the other bag. And your new teachers, do you like them?”

“My teachers are cool.”

You chuckle at his choice of words, a proud smile playing on your lips before it slowly sinks into a frown, watching his eyebrows furrow as he munches on the leftovers from his lunchbox.

Each day he looks more and more like his father. The man who was once a bittersweet memory, now present and snaking into your life. Threatening to snatch your son away forever.

You chew on your lip, speaking with renewed energy, “why don’t you stay home for the weekend, hm? I’ll set up the tent outside, we can make cheesy nachos and I’ll make the ice-cream sandwiches you love so much, let’s do that! We can invite Taehyung too.”

He speaks without lifting his head from his phone, whining into his sandwich, “I want to sleep by dad today. I already told him I’m coming. I need to show him the Aston Martin I got.”

“I know but…you already stayed over last weekend. Just spend this one with me? We can camp and—”

“We don’t camp for real!”

“Smiley…What do you mean?”

He inhales deeply, poking his head between the two front seats to yell in your face, cheese on his breath.

“We camp in the balcony! When I camp with dad, we camp for real! Outside!”

“Sit down smiley. I’m driving.”

He huffs, pout on his lips as he flops onto the seat, “I want to stay by dad.”

“Fine. Okay,” you sigh, idling outside the dreaded gates, “but next weekend you’re staying with mama.”

Junho zips up his bags, ready to step out of the car once you drive in, “okay.”

“Now give me a big kiss before you go.”

Giggling, he cranes his neck to press a kiss into your cheek, a small noise of disapproval is heard before you finally let him go, running a hand through his hair.

“Be good, okay?”

“Okay.”

You roll down your window, watching him climb the few steps that lead to the front door, “love you!”

“Love you too!”

Once the door opens, you begin to reverse out the driveway, seeing Sora usher Junho in with her cheeks puffed up. You stop just as you’re about to exit, rolling up your window as you wait for Jungkook to make an appearance like he always does.

“Looking for me?”

“Fuck!”

His fingers curl around the window, as if that’d stop it from moving up.

Clicking the button again, you toss your hair over your shoulder, attempting to calm your rapid heartbeat with a hand on your chest, “you scared me!”

“Why are you always on edge?”

He places both his forearms on the edge of the window, bending down so you can get a full look at his smug grin. He’s wearing those same green, see-through pajamas from the other day, hanging off his body yet still cinched around his shoulders. Only when your eyes meet do you realize that you haven’t spoken to him since that night, gaze dropping to see the small scar on the column of his throat.

“I’m not.”

He narrows his eyes in disbelief, “hmm.”

You feel your shoulders touch your ears when he pokes his head into your car, examining the interior with low hums. The scent that belongs to your son, one that you remember belonged to Jungkook at one stage fills your car. A scent you can’t put a name to.

“Can I help you?”

He snaps away, a small smirk playing on his lips, “you can…but I don’t think you’d want to.”

“Then can you move away, I have somewhere to be.”

“Gonna see your sugar daddy?”

You roll your eyes, voice clear and assertive, “his name is Kim Taehyung.”

“CEO of Stigma inc., son of famous Kim who died of unknown causes a few years ago before he had to take over and abandon all his hopes and dreams because his older brother was incapable.”

Clearing your throat, you have to push your jaw back into place before regaining your composure, “so you know him?”

“Not personally,” he sighs, cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck, “but I know what I need to.”

“Not enough apparently.”

His lips form a terse line, eyebrows furrowed as he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off, glancing at your watch impatiently.

“Anyway, I have to go. He’s waiting for me.”

He steps back, one corner of his mouth lifted into a grin, “say hi to Mr. CEO for me.”

“Will do.”

With a shake of his head and a short chuckle, he jogs up the stairs, throwing a brief look over his shoulder as you drive off. Watching you leave with a sour taste on your tongue.

Taehyung’s waiting for you on the grassy patch of land that catches your eye first when you drive in, gesturing for you to park near his car, slotted between another sports car you think Junho might know the name of. In awe, you lean forward to look up at the four-story house. You’ve never been to Taehyung’s place before, so you’re a bit nervous but also excited. Wishing that you could’ve brought Junho along with you.

Once you unlock the doors, Taehyung holds it open for you to step out, greeting you with a tight hug and feathery light kiss on your temple.

“How are you?”

“Good,” you smile, holding up your dress as you walk up the stairs, “and you?”

He comes around to stand in front of you once you reach the top, taking both your hands in his.

“I missed you.”

You tilt your head to the side, pouting through your words, “didn’t I see you on Monday?”

He yanks you forward, causing your bodies to collide with a soft thump, “that’s too long for me.”

Hands resting on his chest, you sway with him as he places his hands on your hips, feeling a little dizzy when he flashes you the boyish grin you like a little too much.

“Did you miss me?”

“Of course I did,” you giggle, reaching up to fix his tie, “if things weren’t busy at the pharmacy, I would’ve visited you sooner.”

“No,” he tuts, winding an arm around your waist yet still not moving an inch, “I should’ve made an effort. Work has been pretty tiring for me too.”

A light breeze dusts across your back, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Taehyung notices this and tucks you further into his side, signalling for the guard behind you as you disappear around a large pillar.

“I just got back from work,” he announces, falling into step with you, “how’s Junho finding his new school? Is he with his father?”

“Yeah, uhm…he said it’s cool,” you snort, “although I did get a disciplinary slip from the school counsellor.”

Taehyung comes to an abrupt stop just outside the door, warmth from inside the home kissing your arms.

“Kim Namjoon?”

You nod, “mhm. That was his name.”

Taehyung rubs his lower lip, gaze on the tips of your shoes, “I think it’s just protocol.”

Humming, you take a single step further into the house, knowing that you’d discuss it with him later because he’d definitely ask again. Taehyung grips your hand, index finger propped under your chin.

“My mother is here,” he informs, thumb dusting across your lower lip, “I had no idea that she’d be visiting today and I didn’t want to cancel with you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you soothe, intertwining his fingers with yours. When the words settle between you, the overthinking starts.

“I mean,” you rush to add, moving away from him slightly, “I can come back another time if—”

“No,” he laughs, now cupping your cheek, “I just wanted to know if you’re okay with it. Nothing too serious. I won’t be formally introducing you to her or anything.”

“Oh.”

He scans your face, “I mean…we won’t be moving too fast or anything because this was unplanned. Ugh fuck I mean—”

You silence him with a peck on his check, standing up on your tippy toes to nudge his nose with yours, “it’s okay. I get it.”

His eyebrows furrow, “you sure?”

Showing him how sure you are, you wrap your arm around his and parade through the doors as if you owned the place, “one hundred percent.”

But with each step further, that number diminishes until you’re sitting at twenty percent because parents never liked you. Jungkook’s mother and father weren’t too fond of you being with their son which led to them hating you completely. Your own parents didn’t like you. Why would Kim Taehyung’s mother like you? Especially when Taehyung had dealt with gold diggers in the past. She’d obviously be wary of your presence in his life. You can already predict how she would behave.

Shit.

“My mother’s sweet,” he whispers, as if sensing your rising anxiety, “I might’ve mentioned you before.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, so she would stop searching for a suitable bride and sending me portfolios.”

Hand covering your mouth, you try to muffle your laughs, knowing that it would echo in the capacious mansion.

“I’m serious!” He laments, guiding you around another ivory pillar, “but I also wanted to tell her about you.”

You turn to him, face aglow with the warm lighting from the chandeliers, “why?”

He gives a one-shoulder shrug, “I told you before, you’re important to me.”

Butterflies seem to come alive in your belly, cheeks warming. He’s thrilled by your reaction, coos dying down when Seokjin makes his presence known from what you assume is the kitchen.

“We were looking at old—oh, hello.”

“Hi,” you say more bashful than you expected, winding your arm tighter around Taehyung’s.

Seokjin steps to the side for you to enter the kitchen, the mouth-watering aroma of spice and brazed onions rushes into your nostrils. Taehyung’s mother stands hunched over the large, glistening counter, staring at a glossy card before Taehyung calls her for her.

Her face lights up, powerwalking around the marble to take her son into a bone-crushing hug, kissing the side of his head as she gushes over him. A wistful smile splits your face, thinking of your baby as you watch the exchange.

“Eomma I want to introduce you to someone.”

Your spine goes tense when she turns to you, lips slipping into a straight line. With a bow, you whisper a short greeting, nervousness preventing you from saying anything else despite you wanting to keep the atmosphere light-hearted.

Taehyung offers a supportive smile, pulling his hands out of his charcoal grey suit jacket while you have to bear his mother’s ruthless and examining stare, mouth falling open when she places a hand on your cheek. Face filled with all the concentration a doctor has when you pop in for a check-up.

Her closeness gives you the opportunity to see that Seokjin looks a lot more like her than Taehyung, they share the same face shape, hair greying at the roots. And very beautiful.

Thankful when she steps away, you shuffle over to Taehyung, seeing him sport a stoic expression as he looks to her, giving you the impression that he’s waiting for her verdict. She says nothing, just returns to her spot at the counter and slides the card over in Taehyung’s direction. Not a card but a photograph.

“Taehyung tells me that you have a son,” she begins, hands slotted in front of her.

“I do,” you respond, voice stable and bold, “he’s with his father at the moment.”

Seokjin pats his mother’s shoulder, standing behind her as he opens the refrigerator, “leave the interrogating to me, eomma.”

She laughs, loud and melodious, “I’m not interrogating.”

Taehyung leaves your side to shove Seokjin away from the refrigerator, reaching inside to produce a container that Seokjin opens and sniffs.

“Sounds like you are.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, her expression changes, giggling as she waves a hand dismissively.

Seokjin snorts, placing two slices of bread on an empty plate, “you’re scaring the girl. That’s why your son would never settle down.”

She flattens her hair, looking between you and Taehyung, “that’s not my intention. I’m just worried for my son.”

You speak before you can think twice, knowing her for only two minutes yet still noticing the genuine concern in her voice because you’ve heard it before.

“I understand. Taehyung has had many women come into his life for one reason only, so it’s only fair that you interrogate me.”

All three pairs of eyes are on you now, each holding a different emotion, but Taehyung’s is the one that soothes you, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His mother beckons you to the other side of the counter, wrinkly hand reaching for your own.

“He’s told me a lot about you, there won’t be an interrogation,” she laughs, lighter and tinkling to your ears, “but you know, how it can with mothers and their sons.”

You nod earnestly, “I know.”

“We were looking at old pictures,” Seokjin completes his sentence from earlier, holding up the photograph to Taehyung. He takes it from his brother, eyes crinkling as he laughs when he passes it to you.

“Oh my,” you smile, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and something else, “you had green hair?”

You gawk at the picture in hand, seeing a younger Taehyung wearing all black – black t-shirt with a leather jacket over, expression just as dark as his attire, his hair being the only pop of color.

“He had many different colors,” his mother beams, handing you another photo from what you assume is the same day. It’s a blurry photo, the only thing you can make out is Taehyung’s handsome face, hand propped up with a cigarette kept between his fingers. He looks almost unrecognizable. You wouldn’t think that Kim Taehyung was once that boy in the photograph.

“Wow,,,”

Taehyung stands behind you now, chest pressing into your back as he bends over to take a closer look with you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you whisper, unable to take your eyes off the man in the photo, “you look different. It doesn’t look like you at all. Apart from your face.”

You reach up to pinch his chin with a fond simper, accepting the heavy album that his mother proffers.

“The Kim Taehyung you’re seeing today is nothing like one we had,” his mother jests, sharing a look with Seokjin.

There are more photos of past Taehyung, in very interesting poses, all with the same, unreadable expression. One seems to catch your eye, bringing the album up to your face impossibly close.

“Is that a…gun?”

Taehyung takes the album out of your hands, voice booming throughout the house as he marches to the other side of the counter, “that’s enough.”

“What? Why?”

His mother reaches for your hand, the action endearing to you, “he doesn’t like talking about his past.”

You pout, “then how will I get to know more about you Taehyung? I thought that was our deal? We start from the beginning.”

She scoots closer to you, a wink punctuating her sentence, “if you ever need to know anything about Taehyung, just ask me.”

“Eomma!”

All too happy to be this close to her, you nod, seeing he pretty features soften even more. You find the way Taehyung is behaving cute and entertaining, watching him fret over what you’ve just seen with a hand covering his mouth.

“Taehyung was a bit of a recluse in his young days,” she adds, ignoring Taehyung’s shouts of disgust.

“A rebel,” Jin adds, bread slipping from his hand when Taehyung wraps an arm around his neck, face turning red in an instant.

“Boys, behave. We have a guest,” she yells, one hand tucked under her chin as she hands you another photo.

“It’s alright,” you giggle, nerves easing away as the conversation continues, learning more about Taehyung from his mother, things he would never share. He doesn’t bother to stop her, just listens from afar with his eyes on you, throwing you a wink occasionally.

Taehyung sits across you on the plush couch, the sun had set a while ago. Relaxing in bliss as you watch the rain pitter patter against the windowpanes, soft jazz blurring with the soporific sounds around you. He pokes at your thigh, fingers walking up and down your legs.

“I’m sorry.”

You turn to him, feet nudging at his thighs, “for what?”

He takes them into his lap, light fingers grazing your ankle, “forcing you to meet my family.”

Puzzled, you set down your drink on the coffee table, shoving away the fuzzy, brown blanket so you can climb onto his legs. He takes you in with a satisfied hum, hands cupping the globes of your ass.

“You don’t need to apologize and you didn’t force me,” you soothe, running a hand through his lush strands of hair, “if I didn’t want to, I could’ve easily went home before we came in.”

“I know.”

“Plus, your mother is awesome, I didn’t think she’d like me at first but she seemed to get more comfortable as the night went on. So did I.”

He hums, “she’s a good judge of character. That’s where I get it from.”

Laughs mingling with each other, you rest your forehead against his, breathing in his intoxicating scent as it seems to drench you in a blanket of comfort and warmth, worries and worldly issues withering away when he sets you down on the couch.

He hovers over you, a light hand sliding down your cheek, “did you see the SUV again?”

You sigh, breaking out of your haze to think for a bit, “no.”

Nodding, he leans down to peck your jaw, voice low and husky, “good.”

With a hand on his shoulder, you push him back, eyes questioning.

“It’s sorted.”

“How?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I have to.”

Exhaling deeply, he pulls you up with him, the top buttons on his shirt now loose. You wait for his answer, thighs fitted on either side of his body.

“I can’t really say much but just know that they won’t bother you again.”

You blink, wanting to pull away for a moment to ponder over his words but he doesn’t let you, following you into the corner with his lips in your hair.

“What is it?”

“I just—” you choose your words carefully, pulling his large hand into your lap as you trace his knuckles “—I just feel like I don’t know you.”

“You know me,” he says plainly.

“Yeah but—”

He interrupts you then pauses, gesturing for you to speak first.

“But I don’t know you know you.”

Your words are motivated by Jungkook’s earlier today, you want to believe that each day you’re learning more about Taehyung, you are, but he never spoke about his father. That’s nagging you. You didn’t want to have to learn about his death, which was obviously difficult for Taehyung, from anyone else.

Perplexed, he draws away to get a better look at your face, “where is this coming from? I thought that we agreed to coming to understand each other as the days go by. It’s impossible to cover my whole life in the span of two months. And, we barely see each other with our busy schedules.”

His voice is laced with genuine confusion, and you feel guilty because you hate the way he’s looking at you. Hate the way that despite his constant reassurance, you still demand more from him.

“You’re right,” you breathe, pinching the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry. I was just overthinking things.”

Hand returning to your cheek, he dips his head to peer into your eyes, asking that one question you’re growing to hate because it makes you feel weak and insecure.

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t let the awkward silence sit for too long, strong hand lifting you up onto his lap while you steady yourself on his shoulders, distracted by his charm and boxy smile.

“Didn’t you learn a bit more about me today? From my family?”

“Yes,” you chirp, pinching the apples of his cheeks, “I learned that you were the most feared man on the streets, starting fights and stealing everyone’s girl.”

“Hey,” he pouts, bringing your hand up to his head for more scratches, “I’m still the most feared man on the streets.”

You tut, looking up to the side playfully, “not too sure about that.”

“You—” his long fingers curl into your ribs, running up and down your sides until you collapse onto the couch in a fit of giggles, kicking and gasping for air but he doesn’t let up, enjoying your pleas a little too much.

Tears prickle the corners of your eyes, weak hands fighting him off till they’re pinned above your head, sighing when he sets his full weight on your body.

“There’s still so much I want to know about you,” he whispers, gaze dropping to your lips, “I want to know you better too, to take care of you.”

“Why?”

Again, you sound unsure of yourself, but you must ask him. Uncaring of the way you sound because it’s just him. This man who had fallen into your lap. Maybe because you love hearing the things he says to you, the things he does to you after.

“Because,” he breathes, speaking against your lips, “you make me feel again.”

Every inch of your skin is covered in goosebumps, core heating with anticipation when he rolls his hips into yours, cock sitting heavy against your stomach.

“How?”

“I don’t feel homesick anymore.”

Your gaze returns to his, hand sliding up and down his back, “homesick?”

He catches a handful of your hair in one hand while the other carries you up with him. Gaze not leaving yours for a single second as he navigates around the house, kicking open a door and setting you down on a marshmallow surface. He reaches up over the headboard, dimming the lights to set the perfect mood as you scrunch up the front of his shirt in your hands, trying your best not to rip it open.

Sitting up on his knees, he undoes each button one by one, berating you with his eyes when you reach for your zipper.

“Lie down.”

Immediately, you do as you’re told. But that only lasts a few seconds because you’re sitting up on your elbows upon seeing your reflection on the ceiling. Boobs spilling out of your dress, hair messed, face flushed, chest heaving as Taehyung crawls between your legs, taking the zipper on your dress between his teeth and dragging it down, large palm digging into your thighs to keep it open.

You feel your panties stick to your folds uncomfortably, gushing at the sight of him sucking bruises between your collarbones, wet, sticky lips dragging up the column of your neck. Eyes fluttering when he nips at your earlobe.

“Do you like it?”

The straps of your dress fall off, the rest of it coming down as he slots his fingers between your skin and the fabric, dexterous fingers lingering on your pebbled nipple.

“W-What?”

“The mirror. I know you like to watch,” he susurrates, nimble fingers reaching behind you to unhook your bra, “I got that installed.”

Head tilted up, you watch how the muscles in his back ripples as he rolls down the rest of your dress, impatient with the way he hooks your thigh over his shoulder and nibbles on your gentle skin. Thighs closing around his head reflexively when you hear him take a deep breath through his nose, hum rumbling through his chest.

“Always smell so fucking delicious.”

“Tae,” you whimper, melting into the mattress when you feel his nose nudge your swollen clit through the flimsy fabric of your panties.

More whimpers and whines echo in the room, reaching for his hair when he pushes your panties to the side and blows cool air onto your leaking cunt, clenching around nothing as he lets a long line of spit dribble down your puffy folds.

“Tae,” you cry, a lot needier this time which seems to set him off. Growling into your pussy as his tongue runs up your folds sloppily, ensuing a string of moans from you as you buck into his mouth, shuddering when he catches your clit between his lips.

He looks up at you, dark, smoldering eyes sinful as he eats you out like it’s the last time he’ll ever taste you, pursing his lips around your clit before wiggling his head from side to side. Your head falls back, pressing into the pillow as you crack your eyes open to watch his face work between your legs.

It’s like a filthy artwork on the ceiling. One hand buried in his hair, the other tweaking your nipples while his statuesque body holds up your thighs, messy head of hair kept between your legs as his tongue flicks your clit vigorously.

Your lips part, eyes slipping shut despite you trying to keep it open when he sinks two fingers into you, practised fingers curling up to brush that spot inside you.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” you sigh, pushing his head back down when he comes up for air, chin and lips glazed with your slick, “more.”

He hums into your cunt, walls clenching around your fingers as you feel the pit of your stomach wind into a tight coil, wrapping around tighter and tighter onto that ball of pleasure you can feel building up with each rub of his tongue against your pussy, silent moans leaving your mouth when he pulls up the hood of your clit with two fingers and sets the tip of his tongue against you. Vibrations thrumming up the length of your body as he slurps and suckles.

“Tae—Fuck, gonna cu—”

Your thighs shake, blubbering incoherently when he pulls away and draws his fingers out of your leaking cunt, feeling the coil unravel bit by bit in agony as the heat ebbs away.

“Why?”

He pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking up every last bit of your essence before he undoes his belt and kicks off his pants.

“Because,” he pants, bringing his belt up over your head, “I want you to cum on my cock. Is this okay?”

Blearily, you look up at your reflection, “Is what okay?”

He takes both your wrists in his one hand and holds it up over your head, looking up over his shoulder to ensure that you’re seeing the correct picture, “if I do this.”

You bite your lip, “I—I’ve never done something like that before.”

Heat unfurls in your core once again, already having your answer ready before he can ask.

“Would you like to try?”

Nodding, you watch him loop the buckle through the bars in the headboard, keeping your hands up and over your head as your boobs stick out. Feeling like a slut in the lewd position.

“Yeah? Feeling like my little slut, fuck this is only the beginning sweetheart. I have so much to teach you.”

He licks at your nipples hotly, squishing them together then pulling them apart then kneading them, all while you’re watching in the mirror, whining and hooking your legs around his waist. Pussy empty and aching for his cock.

“Please, I want you.”

“What do you want?”

With a harsh hand under your chin, he presses your cheeks together. You could cum alone with the heated way he’s looking at you. Cock bobbing against his tummy, precum wetting the dark tufts of hair collected under his navel.

You lick your lips, wanting to taste him more than anything. But your pulsating clit begs for attention.

“Want you inside me.”

He grips the base of his cock, giving himself a few tugs as he reaches into the drawer to toss a pack of condoms on the bed, struggling to get one out. Giggling, you nudge the box closer to him as best as you can, heart filling with an unknown emotion when you share a goofy smile.

Rolling the condom onto his cock, he shifts you up the bed, giving you a better view of his back and ass once he finally lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in.

“You know I don’t like to keep you waiting, especially when you’re so needy.”

“Tae,” you grit, walls hugging his cock as his slow thrusts speed into sharp snaps of his hips, blunt fingernails digging into your ass with a bruising hold.

“Like to watch me fuck you, hm? Like to watch how I split you open on my cock. Fuck, didn’t think you were into that sweetheart. Didn’t think you would like it if I called you my pretty little slut.”

Your walls quiver around him uncontrollably, jaw clenching when you hear his pleased laugh, voice caught by a moan when you do it again.

“Fuck, you surprise me every fucking day,” he grunts, lowering himself so you can finally kiss him, tongue entering your mouth in time with his thrusts, sweat dripping from his forehead onto yours.

Still sensitive from earlier, the coil tightens impossibly fast when his pelvis rubs your clit with repeated strokes, crying out his name as he continues to spew filthy words, even sexier from his mouth.

“You like it when I use you like my little fucktoy, strap you in here and use your tight cunt as I please.”

“Taehyung, I’m gonna—”

“Wanted to fuck this pretty mouth of yours,” he husks, pinching your cheeks once again, “have to fill it up. Watch how you drool and cry when I stuff your mouth.”

Thighs hooking around his waist, you jut your hips up as he fucks into you, eyes flying open when you hear a ripping sound. He pries your mouth open, index and middle finger pushing your panties between your lips till you can’t take anymore, gagging around the sodden material.

“There we go,” he chuckles breathlessly. You’re being flipped over onto your stomach, wrists straining as the belt twists to accommodate the position before he slips out then pushes back into your cunt.

Your eyes roll back, coil snapping just as his cock stretches you open on the first thrust, hitting that spot when he props you up on your knees. Your moans are muffled by the fabric of your panties, drool and tears leaking down your face when he continues to fuck into you, now with renewed vigor.

“So fucking tight, fucking love this pussy,” he sighs, the sounds of skin slapping skin accompanying his dirty words, “so fucking beautiful.”

You’re trembling under him, the drag of his cock against your walls sizzling from pain to pleasure all over again, easy when his moans sound like heaven, the delicious feeling of his fingers digging into your skin. And soon, you’re cumming again, chest going tight as your nostrils burn to take in as much air as you can. His thrusts become shallow, cock plunging into you fast then slow as he spills into the condom, a moan of your name filling the balmy air.

You sigh when he pulls out, hands snapping down as soon as he removes the belt so you can pull him into your embrace, tongue sitting dry in your mouth. But he’s there to remove any and every uncomfortable feeling with his hands and mouth, kissing and massaging every spot that he can reach before flipping you onto your side and settling behind you.

“Cold,” you mumble, a silent request for him to cover you with the blanket which he does immediately, warm body pressed into your back.

Perhaps you were too tired, but you think he whispers something into your ear, something you don’t quite catch. You’d have to ask him tomorrow morning.

“I came here as fast as I could.”

“You look like shit.”

Jungkook spins around, leaving the door open for you to follow him into the lounge. Cursing silently, you shut the door behind you and thank whoever is up there for helping you arrive in one piece because you’re exhausted, legs aching, back hurting from the intense…evening you spent with Taehyung. Even if it does make you smile, all that went down the drain when Jungkook had called you in the middle of the night to say that Junho needs you and it’s urgent.

But it seems like you have been fooled, because he asks you to sit on the armchair across him with a beer in hand, Sora sat on his lap.

“Where’s Junho?”

You look around, not willing to admit that the crackling of the digital fireplace is making you a little sleepy.

“Asleep.”

Your head whips around, anger boiling over, “what? Why the fuck did you call me over? I was—”

“Busy with your sugar daddy,” he deadpans, gesturing to your neck, “I can see that.”

Tugging on the lapels of Taehyung’s coat, you sink into the couch, knowing that you have no energy to argue.

“What do you want?”

Jungkook turns to Sora, kneading her thighs while you’re forced to watch as he shoves his tongue down her throat, whispering a soft ‘I love you’ before turning to you. You find it disgusting, especially the whiny, baby voice she does after. But he seems too pleased with it. You do not want to know what’s going on between her tiny ass and his crotch.

“Hmm, why don’t you tell her, sweets?”

You look between the two of them, her round face lit with surprise, “tell me what?”

She clears her throat, dusting her honey blond hair over her shoulder, “Junho—”

“Sorry,” you laugh mirthlessly, hand held up to silence her, “if it has anything to do with Junho, I would like to discuss it with his father, not you.”

Jungkook sighs, two dents in his cheeks appearing before he looks up at her, “go sweets.”

With a huff, she hops off his lap and you can imagine that she’s going to throw a hissy fit in her bedroom.

“Bitch.”

Your mouth falls open, head spun around to glare at her retreating figure, “excuse me?”

Jungkook calls your name, head cradled in his hands as if you called him over to your house when he could’ve been getting warm and toasty hugs from a cuddly bear right now.

But that’s you. And you refuse to be disrespected.

“I’m leaving,” you announce, springing up from the chair, “whatever it is can wait till tomorrow. It doesn’t seem important.”

He grabs your wrist, similar to the other night, except the roles are reversed. You stare at the point of contact, waiting for him to release your hand but he doesn’t, just reels you in closer till you’re standing a foot away from him.

“I don’t want anyone paying my son’s school fees.”

“Wha—”

“And considering your relationship with him, it doesn’t seem like it’ll last long.”

“You—”

“It’s evident that you’re incapable of taking of care of our son. And I was going to suggest co-parenting…”

“Co-parenting?” You seethe, strong enough to shake out of his hold, “what are you on about?”

“Don’t make this more difficult for me than it already is,” he snaps, eyes blank. You wonder how he changed in just a matter of hours.

“What are you talking about?”

“I think you know.”

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