You stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in nothing but one of Jungkook’s shirts, the hem barely grazing your thighs. Your lips were parted, chest rising and falling too quickly, your skin already flushed. You’d been waiting, watching yourself, restless as the tension between your legs had become unbearable as his rough voice still lingered in your mind. He stepped into the room without a word. Just closed the door behind him, the click sharp in silence.

Jungkook’s eyes were locked onto you through the mirror, dark and hungry, controlled only by a thread. "You look like you're begging for trouble," he said, voice low and rough. And in just two strides, he was behind you, his hand gripping onto your throat- not tight, just enough for you to feel the pressure and the possession. His body pressed against yours, hard and warm and completely in control. The other hand slid under the shirt, skimming up your stomach as you held in your breath. “Keep your eyes on yourself,” he growled into your ear, lips brushing the shell of it. “I want you to see what I do to you.”

You nodded shakily, eyes fixated onto the mirror where your body had been reflected. Jungkook slid the shirt off one shoulder, kissing the exposed skin before his teeth scraped lightly over it. You whimpered at the feeling. His hand wandered lower, between your thighs, and found how soaked you already were. He laughed in response, dark and full of pride. "Already dripping for me? Pathetic, pretty little thing." You gasped, squirming back into him. His fingers teased you, barely touching, just enough to make you ache.