Bangtan Perverted Diaries

Promise

"You asshole!"

You threw the small glass plate at Jungkook, which he dodged. It shattered satisfyingly on the wall behind him, joining the wreckage of two others.

He avoided the shards as he advanced toward you, a slight but manic smile on his face. It was disconcertingly unfamiliar even through you bubbling anger.

"I'm coming for you, baby," he cooed softly, his hand's flexing out towards your body. 

You watched as your husband came closer. Rage threatened to blind you even further. You were in the midst of a fight the likes of which you hadn't had in your entire two-year marriage.

Well.

You have had one like it.

And you had to say, remembering what that fight had been like, something deep within you was hoping that this one would end that way too.

But it was too soon to tell. And you were definitely too angry to know for sure.

Your hand moves around behind you blindly, looking for something else to throw. Your hand closed around a small empty wine glass you had washed out earlier that day. You snatched it up and threw it. "You fucking—"

Jungkook closed the gap between you two like lightning, his hand closing over your wrist before you could draw it back from its throw. "What a mouth," he murmured into your ear, deceptively gentle. His other arm easily wrapped around you, pressing your body against his.

You met his eyes, hissing, and struggling. "Get your hands off me," You spat like venom was on the end of your tongue. "If you think that I'm—"

"Oh, I don't think, sweetheart," he said, suddenly deadly serious. "You've got such a temper. You need to be taught a lesson."

Your eyebrows drew together, signifying your confusion. "What lesson?" You basically screeched, just as he picked you up and carried you out of the glass-strewn kitchen.

He threw you down onto the couch you shared in your home in the next room. You could feel the heavy cushioning material through your thin t-shirt and cotton panties. You had been getting ready to go to bed when the fight had begun. He was barely more dressed than you were, in a white t-shirt and some black basketball shorts.

Although you were still furious at you husband you could hardly see straight, you could still appreciate his body as he loomed over you. His shoulders were broad and well-developed, biceps chiseled, strong pecs and abs outlined through the knitting of his shirt. His features were incredibly attractive, although he still had a sort of childish face, there were some enticing features you found irresistible, for example, his lips.

 His lips were full and pillowy each morning when he woke up, you would stare at them first thing, wanting to trace your pinky  along the sweet outline where skin met mouth. As you argued, you longed for them, mourning when they became thin and cruel.