***TW: Mature content ahead.***
Reminder: this story is a work of fiction. The characters are not related to BTS nor do they represent them in any way, shape, or form.

Trust is a word with a single definition. To believe. Unconditionally. Blindly. Fully and completely. See, many people confuse trust with faith. Jungkook did the same. The moment he gave you his trust, he also gave you his heart, and with that, you gained his faith. You became the axis of his earth. The gravity that science had proven. Everything that concerned you had nothing to do with theories, but with facts. Realities. Truths he believed in and refused to see even a hint of a lie in.

The truths you represented to him included but were not limited to your love, the fact that you had chosen him out of all the people in the world, and the loyalty you had sworn to him. A loyalty he questioned when he saw you outside that condo, ringing a bell he didn't know who it belonged to, standing in front of a door that belonged to someone who wasn't him. A loyalty he doubted when he saw you with Seokjin in front of SK Holding, mumbling words he couldn't hear. Words that became so loud when Seokjin placed his palm on the small of your back as he led you to your car that the valet had brought to the main entrance of the building.

Jungkook had always been a busy man. He had cases to investigate, verdicts to make and his sister's killer to catch. Still, the doubts that lingered around your fidelity became the task he had chosen over those mentioned above. Why? The answer was actually quite simple. You were and always will be a priority. The light at the end of the dark tunnel he had found himself in after his sister's death. The remnant of hope. Of life. Of innocence.

Funny! Really. Because now this innocence was beginning to look like a stain. A white satin tarnished in mud. But Jungkook was ready to clean it. He would scrub it with his hands until the dirt fell off. If not, he would dye the whole thing scarlet.

Scarlet, like the hue left behind by his unyielding fingertips that probed every sliver of skin on your body, starting with your neck and ending with your hipbone.

"Jungkook!" You cried.

But Jungkook was lost. He was going deaf. He lost his senses, just as you lost your allegiance to him on the steps of unknown doors and in the embrace of other men. His demons were let out to fight your infidelity. They were released to speak words he could not utter. Accusations he failed to voice. Topics he dared not open. See, Jungkook was always afraid of the day you would leave him. He was sure that day would come tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. He was a man with many secrets and a troubled psyche. He believed that a woman of books and fictional words would never cope with a man who was so in touch with reality. That's why he never pointed out the things that would cause a heated argument. He never told you that your hair smelled like stale tar. At the time, he believed that you had picked up this nasty habit due to stress; stress that he may have caused you. Now he doubted that theory. You wouldn't smoke; it was beneath you. Your fucktoy left that smell behind.

He made sure to fuck that smell out of you. He made sure to wash it off with his sweat and the tears that gathered on your lash line.

"What? Tell me; what do you need, Cass, huh?" He hissed.

It didn't escape his notice that you weren't teasing him with the nickname you always used when he was balls deep in you. It infuriated him that you didn't moan his name in pleasure, but rather in exasperation. He hated the way your walls smothered his cock, dry and devoid of the arousal he normally didn't need to elicit from you. He hated that he had you bent over your vanity instead of the comfort of your bed. He hated that he couldn't kiss you, afraid he would taste another man on your lips. He hated that he couldn't look into your eyes, afraid to see the reflection of his image in them. Afraid he would see a monster.

But it was a monster that you had created. A monster born of love and deception and so many mistakes. A monster that loved you and now struggled with the mere thought of losing you.

Jungkook had never fucked you so drunk before. In this way. He hadn't even planned to do it. Didn't even know what had taken over him when he walked into the room and saw you sitting in front of your vanity, wearing his bathrobe, combing your wet hair. But the rage that had gripped him as he waited in his car outside SK Holdings - and which he thought would disappear with alcohol - burst into fiery flames when he saw you in his bathrobe. His fucking bathrobe, while you were probably washing another man's essence off your body.

See, Jungkook was a patient man. He didn't ambush you, even though the need to do just that was ever so present. He watched you as he gripped the steering wheel with his hands so tightly that his knuckles almost broke out of the pale skin. He watched you as Seokjin held you closer to him. He watched you as he kissed you on the cheek. He watched you as he bid you goodbye after you settled into your car. He watched you. From a distance. He let you go. He let Seokjin go too and followed you home. When you made it to your house, Jungkook made a U-turn to a destination unknown to him and drove around aimlessly until he found himself in a bar, downing one shot after another, seeking refuge in alcohol. Seeking oblivion.

Oblivion that never materialized. Not when he was in the bar, not when he was driving under the influence, not when he entered your house, not when he stood behind your vanity chair silently contemplating the soft smile that graced your lips as you looked into his eyes through the mirror; not when he stroked your wet hair and not when he suddenly trashed away all your skincare to the floor before grabbing your waist and bending you against the wooden surface.

It was all fast-paced; all so strange that you didn't have time to register his actions. You were stunned by the sheer force he was using. Now, you wouldn't claim to have been privy to his varied style when it came to sex, nor would you describe yourself as strawberry and vanilla. But even for your not-so-sweet endeavors, this seemed wrong on many levels.

But you didn't fight back. Didn't scream. Didn't stop him. Not when he stripped you off the bathrobe, not when he tore the only piece of clothing you had been wearing under the bathrobe: a simple pair of cotton underwear. And not when he attacked your skin with his lips and teeth, nibbling and sucking and feasting on every shiver you emitted. You didn't even murmur a word as you heard him undo his belt. The sound of the metal loop against the zipper was so sickening instead of being a turn-on like it used to. And you definitely didn't let out the agonizing scream that settled at the edge of your lips as he pounded inside you with intent, holding his palm firmly over your head, that was pressed against your vanity.

No, you didn't make a sound, and for that Jungkook was grateful. He was already very lost, trying to make sense of his actions and failing. The last thing he needed now was your screams to prove that he wasn't so different from his sister's murderer after all.

That he was also a rapist.

However, there was a reason why you were so compliant. It was nothing other than guilt. He wasn't the only offender here. In fact, he was very innocent. The culprit was you. He might be acting on his stress; a reaction to your actions. But he wasn't the first to strike. It was you.

You would have laughed out loud if you had known that what was causing him stress was a furious doubt about infedility. You would have hugged him and reassured him that there is no one on this earth for you but him. That he is your world. Your earth. Your man and you were his forever.

If he still wanted you after he learned the truth, that is.

But even if you didn't mind the way he handled you, the way he bruised your skin or the ache that burned between your legs from the dry friction of his engorged cock against your unstimulated walls, you reacted strongly to the way his body slumped against yours, heartbeat erratic and breaths labored as he clutched your stomach and nestled his head in your hair, breathing in your scent. You hated how broken he was when his chest heaved with a silent cry. You hated that he broke the unspoken promise and touched your belly. He never did that. But now he did, and he was hurting because of something you couldn't offer him. Just like you couldn't offer him honesty. So you pleaded. For what? You weren't sure. Maybe you wanted him to pick up from where he left. To keep the torture going. It's always easier to be the victim than the perpetrator.

"Don't stop, Jungkook."

And luckily for you, he did pick up from where he left. It took him a while. A little while that felt like an eternity as he rubbed his palm against your stomach. Feeling it. Feeling how flat it was. How empty. But in the end, he resumed, thrusting into you with relentless speed, pushing you back and forth with each thrust while you remained limp. Numb. Frozen.

"Say you love me, Cass. Wanna hear it."

And just like that, the tear you refused to let out earlier fell from your eyes onto the woody surface. The scream you couldn't let go of earlier tore at your throat, filling the room with agony. Boy, was it raw. A plea for empathy laced with sympathy. You wept for him, knowing full well that he never allowed his tears to flow freely in your presence. You cried for your fate, for the misery of your love and for the fact that it was destined to wither like a flower in the middle of a forsaken land.

Tonight was a night of many firsts. Jungkook never asked you such questions. He knew the answer too well to ask it again. And yet he needed to hear it once more as he rubbed your belly in a soft manner that was at odds with the way he was fucking you.

"I love you, Jungkook. I do."

And that was what he needed to hear. It didn't matter to him whether it was the truth or a beautiful lie in a moment of intimacy. It was enough to help him make up his mind and give you what you craved. It was a small confirmation that his fucked up brain needed to reassure him that what he was doing wasn't just monstrous and depraved. That it was no great crime to alter the mechanism of your body and tamper with it when love was involved. After all, he deprived you of the pleasure of being a mother because he loved you. Because he wanted to protect you and your child from his world, that would one day collapse. And now he was ready to give you what he had withheld from you.

A child.

Jungkook has stopped tampering with your vitamins. Stopped feeding you contraceptives when he saw you outside the condo. He suspected that your lack of fidelity was related to the fact that you had no restraints keeping you by his side. But he never came inside you. He tried many times, but he failed. It seemed worse than feeding you contraceptives. It felt low and dirty. Selfish, even. But those feelings evaporated tonight and were overtaken by a huge need to claim you again. To remind you over the course of nine months that you can't escape him. That your flings were just that: Flings. That he was there to stay forever.

The lewd sound of slapping skin filled the room, masking your muffled cries and his labored breathing along with the screeching sound of the vanity he threatened to destroy with the intensity of his thrusts. His hand was still on your belly, coaxing his climax from the very core of his bones and the back of his chaotic brain. It shouldn't feel so erotic, but it played with his head in a lewd way. A way that made his quick thrusts even jerkier. Messier. Faster even, but without rhythm. He lasted a few more thrusts before he exploded inside you, very deep within your walls, painting them with his essence and washing away the traces of someone else.

The strings of cum seemed endless. It felt warm inside you. Felt like a lot. It meant a lot too, but you weren't aware. Jungkook stilled inside you, keeping every drop secured in place. He pressed you to his chest. His damn hand refused to leave your stomach, forcing you to look into his eyes through the mirror.

The reflection you saw scared you. It wasn't Jungkook. It wasn't the Jungkook you knew, loved, and married. The shell was the same, but the soul inside seemed so different. So distant. So foreign. His brows were furrowed. His expression solemn. Eyes vacant as they zeroed in on yours intently.

"What's going on between you and Kim Seokjin, Cassandra?"