𝗢𝗯𝗲𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗛𝗶𝗺 || 𝗧𝗮𝗲𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘂•

17

Jungkook 

It's 3 AM, and I'm standing beside his bed, watching.

I should be asleep. I should be resting after a long day of slicing people open and stitching them back together like they're nothing more than puzzles. But how could I? How could I sleep when he's right here, curled up so perfectly, his body sinking into the mattress like he's trying to disappear?

He's giving up. Slowly. Beautifully.

I see it in the way he barely reacts anymore, but his body still tenses when I touch him. How he doesn't fight, doesn't ask, doesn't beg. He's unravelling, thread by thread, falling deeper into the web I've spun around him.

And I want to ruin him for it.

My fingers twitch at my sides as I stare at his small, trembling form. He has taken the corner of the bed again, leaving too much empty space, like he thinks distancing himself will make any difference. It won't. I could close the distance in a second. I could be on him, against him, inside his very breath before he even wakes.

I want to.

I want to crush him beneath me, to feel his delicate bones strain under the weight of my love. To break him gently, deliberately with hands that know both destruction and devotion.

I wonder if he'd whimper in his sleep. I wonder if he'd dream of running even as I make sure he never leaves. The thought makes something inside me snap.

 I can't hold back much longer.

Without a second thought, I climb into the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight as I pull the blanket over us. The moment my arms snake around his small waist, I feel it the way his body tenses, the way his breath hitches for just a second before he forces it steady. 

He's pretending again.

It's almost adorable how he still tries, how he thinks he can fool me. But he's never been good at this. Not at lying. Not in hiding. I know every little shift in his body, every flinch, every nervous swallow. He's awake. Fully aware.

And that makes it all the more satisfying.

I pull him closer, forcing his back against my chest, smirking when I feel the tremor roll through him. "Tsk," I groan, my lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "Still trying to fool me?"

Sliding my hand down, I slip it beneath his shirt, fingertips grazing the warmth of his bare stomach. So smooth beneath my touch. He sucks in a breath, his muscles twitching under my palm, and I relish the reaction.

"Shhh," I murmur, letting my lips ghost over his neck before I sink my teeth in, nibbling at the delicate skin. Not hard enough to bruise. Just enough to remind him. He is mine.

And there's nowhere left to run.

"Should I play along with you now, darling?" I whisper the words against his skin, waiting, watching. But he doesn't respond.

Silent. Stiff.

Pathetic.

A slow chuckle rumbles from my chest as I let my fingers trace the outline of his waist, feeling the way he tenses under my touch. He's awake....I know he is. He's holding his breath, trying to stay still, trying to convince himself that if he pretends hard enough, I'll stop.

Foolish.

But if he wants to play this game, I'll let him. I'll let him pretend, let him think he still has some form of control.