Jungkook pulled out with a filthy pop, Tae’s asshole clenching around nothing, swollen and glistening under the studio lights. His cum dripped down her inner thigh as he hauled her upright by the hair, her knees buckling against his hip.

Kook smirked at the way her legs shook when he dragged her toward the frosted glass stall, her fingers scrambling for balance against the tiles. The water hissed on, icy at first, making Tae gasp as it sluiced the sweat from her collarbones. Jungkook didn’t wait for it to warm—just shoved her under the spray, pinning her against the wall with his body as he pumped citrus-scented soap into his palm. "Turn," he ordered, smearing it down her spine, his grip possessive where it lingered on the bruises blooming along her waist.