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You knew from the first wedding planning meeting that a “small wedding” was an illusion.
The Jeon name alone outweighed your preferences, and the press would find a way in even if you married in a storage closet. But still, you tried to propose a small wedding.
Or at least, a smaller one.
“No more than a hundred people,” you told the wedding coordinator in charge, Yeon, who is also Mr. Jeon and Mrs. Jeon’s head of housekeeper.
Apparently she is basically your in-laws' right hand woman when it comes to events, or anything related to the house. It wasn't really surprising, especially knowing Yeon even has a master’s degree in hospitality.
Yeon couldn’t even hide her reaction when you told her you wanted a wedding with only a hundred people. Her apple pen hovered mid air, “Miss, the Jeon Group has eight subsidiaries in South Korea alone, we have not counted the one overseas, and each subsidiary has a board, and each board has-”
“I know,” you cut her off, “just please try to keep it minimal.”
Mr. and Mrs. Jeon completely gave you the green light to do what you want, but after talking more with Jungkook, Taehwan, and Yeon, you now realise it’s not just a normal wedding.
It’s the wedding of the only son and the only heir of the Jeon empire.
It’s the wedding of the richest family in South Korea, and almost all of Asia.
It’s almost like the wedding of the century.
A small wedding you wanted became seven hundred people.
And that was after Jungkook reduced the guest list by half, ignoring every complaint Yeon and Taehwan said he might receive from people who thought their presence was essential. You watched him do it with the same precision you imagined he used in boardrooms, Jungkook was calm, unbothered, and decisive.
Now, standing behind the closed double doors of the grand hall, the scale of everything still hits you, even though both you and Jungkook were hands on in planning the wedding.
You’ve seen these double doors, you’ve seen the grand hall, and you’ve tasted the cakes, catering, and drinks.
Yet today, on the day you will be getting married to the Jeon Jungkook, everything you’ve tried before feels completely new.
You were getting married in the ballroom of Jeon Group’s 7-star hotel.
A ceiling sparkling with custom chandeliers, imported flowers were arranged into a full floral tunnel, and seven hundred chairs with each filled with people whose last names carried more wealth than you could ever imagine.
And all of that meant nothing when your mom tightened her grip on your arm, “You’re breathing too fast,” she murmured, “slow down, don’t panic. You’ll be okay.”
You exhaled through your nose and nodded.
Your mom looked at you softly, she wasn’t present almost most of your life, but you knew it wasn’t by choice. She did try to find you the best she could, and the past doesn’t matter.
Especially when she has been showing up every second of your life ever since you met her for the first time.
What matters is now.
And now she is here, standing next to you, and walking you towards something you never thought you would have.
“You don’t have to go out there if you’re too overwhelmed,” she said quietly.
You looked down at the ring Jungkook had slipped on your finger in the car, when he proposed to you without any speech. A memory that grounded you more than this grand hall ever could.
“I want to,” you said.
Your mother squeezed your hand once, “Good, then let’s go.”
The doors opened and the sounds of the crowd dropped into a hush and seven hundred heads turned to look at you as you stepped forward.
Jungkook was standing at the altar, and the sight of him erased everything else around you.
He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his posture was straight and composed, as always. But the second he saw you, something snapped loose inside him.
He smiled.
He smiled so wide you could tell it stunned the room.
A couple of guests shifted on their seats, whispering as if they just spotted a myth.
Jeon Jungkook did not smile like that.
Not at galas, interviews, or at business conferences.
His public expression was famously known as cold and untouchable, he would only smile when he needed to, and the smile he gave to the public was never genuine.
But right now, his smile was unmistakably genuine, and directed solely at you.
Your steps faltered for half a second, not from nerves, but from how sharply the moment hit.
And then you saw his parents.
His mother’s eyes softened instantly. His father’s face broke into a quiet and proud smile.
They didn’t look shocked by their son’s expression, they looked relieved and grateful. As if they had waited years to see someone pull warmth out of Jungkook. As if your presence proved that he would finally have a life they wanted him to have.
They were happy to know that their son, Jungkook, would never be spending the rest of his life alone.
You kept walking towards the altar.
Every step made Jungkook’s smile widen, a rare sight he didn’t bother to hide.
He didn’t blink or avert his gaze.
To everyone else, he remained the intimidating face of generational power and wealth. To you, he looked like he has been waiting his entire life for this exact version of you.
For this exact moment of the both of you.
When you reached the altar, your mother kissed your cheek, and whispered, “Be happy,” to the both of you, before placing your hand into his.
Jungkook’s fingers closed around yours immediately, as he nodded towards your mom.
“You’re here,” he said, “and you look ethereal,” he continued, complimenting you under his breath.
You shyly smiled at him before raising your eyebrows, “Did you think I would change my mind?”
“No,” Jungkook replied confidently, “you’re not the type to run from anything.”
The officiant began the ceremony, but Jungkook didn’t look away, not even once.
He watched you like he was memorizing this exact moment in his mind, every breath, every shift, and every flicker of emotion on your face.
When it was time for the vows, Jungkook moved slightly closer.
“Jeon Jungkook,” the officiant began, “do you,”
“I do,” he answered immediately before the officiant could even finish the question.
You could hear a few guests laughing softly.
You tilted your head, “Shouldn’t you hear the rest of the question?”
“I don’t need him to finish, I would be honored to be your husband,” Jungkook replied, earning a few “aww” from the crowd.
When the officiant repeated the line with your name, you answered without hesitation, “I do.”
Jungkook’s shoulders eased in an exhale he didn’t bother hiding.
The rings came next. Jungkook’s hands didn’t shake, but yours did slightly. And the officiant said the final line, “I now pronounce you husband and wife!”
Jungkook didn’t wait for permission that he may kiss you now, and he pulled you in closer to him. But he didn’t kiss you immediately, either.
First, he leaned in, pressed his forehead against yours, “Finally,” he murmured. Then, after that, he kissed you, and the crowd erupted into applause.
When you pulled back, Jungkook’s face was still inches away from yours when he said, “You’re mine.”
“And you’re mine,” you replied.
His parents smiled at the sight of the two of you.
Relieved and proud, because their son, the one who lived inside an armor his whole life with walls built up so high, was finally home with you.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The reception was still formal and huge, but it felt warmer somehow. You stood beside Jungkook as friends, colleagues, distant cousins, directors, and business partners approached with respectful and rehearsed congratulatory lines. Jungkook responded politely, but with visible impatience each time someone lingered too long.
Halfway through the guest, he leaned slightly closer, “You look tired.”
You scoffed softly, “There are seven hundred people here.”
“And you’ve looked at none of them.”
You lifted your eyes to his, “Have you?”
“No, I only have eyes for you,” he answered matter of factly, his gaze didn’t waver and he added, “Let’s step outside.”
You didn’t want to argue with him because you did need the space to breathe.
The two of you slipped through a side corridor. Jungkook opened a door leading to a balcony overlooking the city.
You exhaled once you stepped outside to the balcony.
He watched you quietly for a moment, “Is it all too much?”
“It’s a lot,” you admitted, “but it’s not bad.”
“You handled it well.”
“You did too.”
He stepped closer, still looking at you, “I know you wanted something smaller.”
You looked up at him, “I knew this couldn’t be small.”
“There was a way to make it smaller,” he said, “I didn’t want it.”
You were taken aback, you thought a person as private as Jungkook would want to make it smaller, “Why?”
“So everyone sees who I married,” Jungkook said, his eyes not leaving yours.
You let out a small laugh, “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
“I know, I’m not trying to prove anything,” Jungkook added, “I’m establishing it.”
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
You never stopped working after the wedding. That was the first boundary you set, one you made very clear even before you agreed to marry Jungkook.
You told him you would never be a full-time housewife, not because there was anything wrong with it, but because you had spent too many years building yourself back up from nothing.
And Jungkook never argued, he never even hesitated.
If anything, he expected it from you.
So when your contract at the startup ended, you moved into the Jeon business. The Jeon tried to tell you to just accept a position as a director, but you refused because you weren’t experienced enough to become one and you told them you wanted to do it on your own.
So you applied, you went through every stage, from initial screening, panel interview, case assignment, and final interview. When the recruiter tried to fast-track you, you politely declined.
You weren’t interested in being boosted into a high position you didn’t deserve.
So you entered Jeon Retail as a junior associate. The pay was good, the pace was brutal, and the expectations were high. You kept your head down for a year, did the work, delivered the numbers, and handled the pressure well.
Then they promoted you to a senior role, one you clearly deserved and you were proud of it.
Jungkook was too. You could tell by the way he checked your reports sometimes, not to interfere, but because he liked knowing what you were working on. You used to catch him reading through your project decks in the evenings, impressed by your quality of work.
You have now settled into your routine as Mrs. Jeon.
You’d wake up, go to work, go back home, and spend time with your husband.
It has been a perfect routine for you.
Until today.
You ignored it at first, you thought the uneasiness in your stomach was probably because of the bad breakfast you had. Then, halfway through reviewing a quarterly product performance, a wave of nausea hit so instantly that your hand flew to your mouth.
You stood up quickly, it made a loud enough sound that Kei, your coworker, at the next desk looked up.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just need some air,” you said as you walked straight to the restroom and you just barely made it to the stall before you threw up.
It could have been food poisoning, stress, or just fatigue.
But you knew what it could be.
It has been a year of not preventing anything, a year of waiting for nothing to happen, and a year of telling yourself not to be disappointed.
You decided to clock out for lunch, grabbed your coat, and walked out of the building without telling anyone where you were going.
There was a convenience store just right across the street, the one you would buy your snacks for work from. You stepped inside quickly, headed down to the aisle, grabbed the test, paid without looking at the cashier, and walked back to the office with the small bag hidden under your blazer.
Once inside your office building, you went straight to the restroom again, locked the door, sat on the toilet seat, and forced yourself to calm down.
You didn’t want to be disappointed again. It has been a year since your marriage and nothing since then has happened.
Then you took the test, one second passed.
Then five.
Then ten.
And you saw two clear lines.
You just stared at it.
You stared until your throat tightened and your chest was beating loudly, and your hand came up instinctively to cover your mouth.
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.
You were so relieved but it hit you so suddenly that your body doesn’t know what to do, how to respond, or how to act.
You stood carefully, splashed water on your face, dried your hands, and walked back to your desk, and your boss spotted you the second you sat down.
She frowned, “You look pale.”
You forced a smile, “I think I'm just tired.”
“You were vomiting earlier,” she cut you off before you could even finish your sentence, “you should go back home.”
You blinked, “Can I really take the rest of the day?”
“Yes,” she said, “go.”
You nodded, gathered your things, and left quickly.
You weren’t going back home, no. You needed to make sure what you saw was real. So you decided to head to a hospital.
Not to the Jeon hospital, you weren't stupid. If you stepped foot into a Jeon-owned medical center, four things would happen immediately:
Security would notify the administration.
Administration would notify the medical director.
The medical director would notify someone in Jungkook’s team.
Jungkook’s team would notify the Jeon Jungkook himself.
And you wanted him to hear it first from you, not from anyone else.
So you chose a small hospital in Seoul. A small one with no affiliations to the Jeon. Just a quiet clinic where no one looked at your face long enough to recognize it.
The doctor performed the test quickly, then she looked at you with a smile across her face, “Congratulations,” she said, “You’re about five weeks pregnant.”
You left the hospital at around 2:30 PM with the ultrasound image inside your bag. You got in the taxi, leaned your head against the window, and kept your hand on your stomach the entire ride home.
You reached the penthouse around 3:00 PM. The housekeeper wasn’t there, she only came in the mornings, per Jungkook’s preference for privacy.
Everything was quiet, and the master bedroom looked exactly the same as it did when you left that morning.
You walked in with one plan in mind:
You would prepare balloons and maybe a small sign saying, “Welcome home, dad!”
But the moment you stepped into the room, another wave of nausea hit you so hard you had to grab the back of a chair.
You stumbled to the bathroom, threw up again, then dragged the trash bin to the side of the bed. The doctor said it was normal, but it didn’t feel normal, it felt exhausting.
You didn’t want to call Jungkook.
You knew exactly where he was. He told you he would be in a high-level of importance meeting with his father and all the major directors to finalize their Singapore expansion. It was an important project, one he has spent months preparing for.
He didn’t need you interrupting it, especially not for something he couldn’t fix immediately.
So you called Taehwan instead, “Can you please bring me the vitamins the doctor prescribed me? I’ll send you a picture of the prescription,” you asked.
“Of course,” he answered without asking any further questions, which was perfect since you really didn’t want to have to explain yourself.
You hung up, laid on your bed, and closed your eyes.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
Jungkook didn’t notice the vibration on his phone until the board director stopped speaking.
Taehwan: Mrs. Jeon is unwell.
Jungkook stood up immediately, and half the room turned to look at him, startled. His father raised an eyebrow at his son, “Jungkook?”
“It’s my wife,” Jungkook said, already gathering his things, “I need to go.”
“What happened with my daughter?” Mr. Jeon asked, everyone could even see even the chairman was worried.
“She’s sick,” he said whispering to his father, Jungkook didn’t want anyone irrelevant to know.
His father didn’t question it further, Mr. Jeon lifted a hand dismissively and said, “Go.”
Jungkook didn’t waste another second.
He was furious, not at you, but at the situation.
At the fact that you told Taehwan first and that you probably thought you didn’t want to make Jungkook worried.
He knew why you did it. You didn’t want to interrupt him, or pull him out of work. But he was your husband now, you were and will always be his priority.
The entire drive home, Jungkook’s hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, and his jaw was clenched the whole time.
Taehwan thankfully has already put your medicines in the receptionist of your penthouse building, now Jungkook would know how to help you.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
You must have drifted off for a few minutes, the nausea made you so tired, and the warmth of the blanket pressed against your body kept you even more sleepy.
Then the bedroom door opened, abruptly, without knocking which surprised you because Taehwan would not dare do such a thing.
You didn’t lift your head, but still called out for him anyway, “Taehwan?”
And when you heard no immediate reply, you looked up slowly.
Jungkook stood there in the doorway, his tie loosened but still not removed, and his hair slightly disheveled like he rushed to be here.
You sighed, “Damn you, Taehwan.”
His right hand man is so loyal to him, he could never keep anything from Jungkook.
Jungkook ignored the comment completely. He walked inside the master bedroom, his eyes sweeping over the bed, your pale face, and the trash bin beside you, “Have you been throwing up?”
You nodded weakly, “Please give me the meds.”
He didn’t hand them over, instead he tried to get you to get up, “Let’s go to the hospital.”
“No, I’m fine, Jungkook.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re throwing up,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly, “and you look weak, get up.”
You shook your head, “I just need the medicine that Taehwan handed to you.”
He didn’t budge, sit, or blink. He stood there looking at you like he was trying to analyze why you were sick, “Why didn’t you call me?”
You didn’t want to answer.
“Y/N,” Jungkook’s tone sharpened, “Why didn’t you call me?”
You swallowed nervously, “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You would never bother me,” he answered instantly.
He stepped closer to the bed, “Next time,” he said, “you call me first, before anyone, including Taehwan, before my parents or your mother. I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing. You have to call me first.”
You looked away, you didn’t want to agree since Jungkook is literally the busiest man in South Korea for a reason.
“Mrs. Jeon.”
And that made your head snap back towards him. He has only used that tone and title to call you once, and that was during one of the biggest fights you’ve ever had with Jungkook.
You sighed, “Okay, understood baby.”
His expression softened instantly after he heard the last word you said to him, “Good,” he said quietly, “now get up, I’m taking you to the hospital.”
You pushed yourself slightly to sit upright, “You seriously don’t need to.”
“Why?” he asked, “you’re clearly sick.”
“Because,” you hesitated as your hand reached for your bag automatically, “because I’m pregnant.”
The room went silent. You pulled the ultrasound image from your bag and held it out for him with shaky fingers.
Jungkook didn’t move for a full second, then he stepped forward slowly to take the ultrasound image you were holding.
He looked at the image and his breath stopped.
Jungkook didn’t speak, his mouth didn’t fall open. The reaction was more subtle than that, but he also wasn’t smiling or saying anything.
And that scared you.
Because you knew Jungkook before the wedding. You remembered the confession he once told you, “I don’t know if I should have children. I don’t want them to turn out like me.”
But then the past year, your marriage life happened. And Jungkook somehow already has ideas of turning a guest room into a nursery, and looked at stroller models with the same focus he puts in for business acquisitions.
So him being silent after looking at the ultrasound scan terrified you.
“Are you upset?” you asked him.
Still nothing.
Until he finally said, “I’m sorry.”
You looked at him confused, “Why are you sorry?”
He turned the ultrasound around so you could see the scan, and said, with complete seriousness, “Because you’re sick because of this little cunt.”
Your mouth fell open, “I’m sorry, did you just call our kid a cunt?”
“Yes,” he didn’t even blink, "you're sick because of them,” Jungkook continued, “and you are my priority.”
You wanted to laugh but you held it in, “Aren’t you happy?”
His eyes looked into yours, “Of course I’m happy, but not when you’re sick.”
You finally stopped trying to hold your laugh, “You can not hate our kid.”
“Hate?” he repeated, looking offended, “I love them already.”
You blinked, “Then why did you call them a cunt?”
“Because they’re making you sick,” he said, “and nothing gets to hurt you, nothing.”
You shook your head, overwhelmed, “That’s not, you know it’s normal, Jungkook.”
He ignored that completely.
He moved closer to the bed, then he lowered himself onto one knee beside you. Jungkook rested one hand on the mattress beside your hip. The other hovered over your stomach before he finally placed it there gently.
“But they should not be a burden to you,” he said quietly, “they should not make their mother sick, they should not make my wife pale and throw up, which also means,” he continued, “I need to admit you at the hospital.”
“Jungkook," you rolled your eyes at him.
He leaned forward and kissed your stomach. The moment lasted longer than you expected. When he pulled back, he quickly stood up and looked down at you, “Next time something feels off, you tell me. Immediately.”
You nodded, “Okay. Can I ask something?” you whispered.
He tilted his head slightly, “Hmm?”
You sat up carefully, “You’re not upset?”
He blinked at you, “Why would I be upset?”
“You were quiet when I told you the news.”
“I was calculating.”
“Calculating what?” you asked confusedly.
He looked at you then, “How fast I needed to reorganize my life and how to keep both of you safe.”
This time, a tear fell before you could stop it, “Hormones,” you mumbled.
He didn’t argue or tease you like he usually would do, he just nodded once before kissing your forehead.
Most people soften when becoming parents.
Jungkook didn’t just soften, he found a new purpose.
And that made you feel safer than anything else in the world.
You knew from the first wedding planning meeting that a “small wedding” was an illusion.
The Jeon name alone outweighed your preferences, and the press would find a way in even if you married in a storage closet. But still, you tried to propose a small wedding.
Or at least, a smaller one.
“No more than a hundred people,” you told the wedding coordinator in charge, Yeon, who is also Mr. Jeon and Mrs. Jeon’s head of housekeeper.
Apparently she is basically your in-laws' right hand woman when it comes to events, or anything related to the house. It wasn't really surprising, especially knowing Yeon even has a master’s degree in hospitality.
Yeon couldn’t even hide her reaction when you told her you wanted a wedding with only a hundred people. Her apple pen hovered mid air, “Miss, the Jeon Group has eight subsidiaries in South Korea alone, we have not counted the one overseas, and each subsidiary has a board, and each board has-”
“I know,” you cut her off, “just please try to keep it minimal.”
Mr. and Mrs. Jeon completely gave you the green light to do what you want, but after talking more with Jungkook, Taehwan, and Yeon, you now realise it’s not just a normal wedding.
It’s the wedding of the only son and the only heir of the Jeon empire.
It’s the wedding of the richest family in South Korea, and almost all of Asia.
It’s almost like the wedding of the century.
A small wedding you wanted became seven hundred people.
And that was after Jungkook reduced the guest list by half, ignoring every complaint Yeon and Taehwan said he might receive from people who thought their presence was essential. You watched him do it with the same precision you imagined he used in boardrooms, Jungkook was calm, unbothered, and decisive.
Now, standing behind the closed double doors of the grand hall, the scale of everything still hits you, even though both you and Jungkook were hands on in planning the wedding.
You’ve seen these double doors, you’ve seen the grand hall, and you’ve tasted the cakes, catering, and drinks.
Yet today, on the day you will be getting married to the Jeon Jungkook, everything you’ve tried before feels completely new.
You were getting married in the ballroom of Jeon Group’s 7-star hotel.
A ceiling sparkling with custom chandeliers, imported flowers were arranged into a full floral tunnel, and seven hundred chairs with each filled with people whose last names carried more wealth than you could ever imagine.
And all of that meant nothing when your mom tightened her grip on your arm, “You’re breathing too fast,” she murmured, “slow down, don’t panic. You’ll be okay.”
You exhaled through your nose and nodded.
Your mom looked at you softly, she wasn’t present almost most of your life, but you knew it wasn’t by choice. She did try to find you the best she could, and the past doesn’t matter.
Especially when she has been showing up every second of your life ever since you met her for the first time.
What matters is now.
And now she is here, standing next to you, and walking you towards something you never thought you would have.
“You don’t have to go out there if you’re too overwhelmed,” she said quietly.
You looked down at the ring Jungkook had slipped on your finger in the car, when he proposed to you without any speech. A memory that grounded you more than this grand hall ever could.
“I want to,” you said.
Your mother squeezed your hand once, “Good, then let’s go.”
The doors opened and the sounds of the crowd dropped into a hush and seven hundred heads turned to look at you as you stepped forward.
Jungkook was standing at the altar, and the sight of him erased everything else around you.
He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his posture was straight and composed, as always. But the second he saw you, something snapped loose inside him.
He smiled.
He smiled so wide you could tell it stunned the room.
A couple of guests shifted on their seats, whispering as if they just spotted a myth.
Jeon Jungkook did not smile like that.
Not at galas, interviews, or at business conferences.
His public expression was famously known as cold and untouchable, he would only smile when he needed to, and the smile he gave to the public was never genuine.
But right now, his smile was unmistakably genuine, and directed solely at you.
Your steps faltered for half a second, not from nerves, but from how sharply the moment hit.
And then you saw his parents.
His mother’s eyes softened instantly. His father’s face broke into a quiet and proud smile.
They didn’t look shocked by their son’s expression, they looked relieved and grateful. As if they had waited years to see someone pull warmth out of Jungkook. As if your presence proved that he would finally have a life they wanted him to have.
They were happy to know that their son, Jungkook, would never be spending the rest of his life alone.
You kept walking towards the altar.
Every step made Jungkook’s smile widen, a rare sight he didn’t bother to hide.
He didn’t blink or avert his gaze.
To everyone else, he remained the intimidating face of generational power and wealth. To you, he looked like he has been waiting his entire life for this exact version of you.
For this exact moment of the both of you.
When you reached the altar, your mother kissed your cheek, and whispered, “Be happy,” to the both of you, before placing your hand into his.
Jungkook’s fingers closed around yours immediately, as he nodded towards your mom.
“You’re here,” he said, “and you look ethereal,” he continued, complimenting you under his breath.
You shyly smiled at him before raising your eyebrows, “Did you think I would change my mind?”
“No,” Jungkook replied confidently, “you’re not the type to run from anything.”
The officiant began the ceremony, but Jungkook didn’t look away, not even once.
He watched you like he was memorizing this exact moment in his mind, every breath, every shift, and every flicker of emotion on your face.
When it was time for the vows, Jungkook moved slightly closer.
“Jeon Jungkook,” the officiant began, “do you,”
“I do,” he answered immediately before the officiant could even finish the question.
You could hear a few guests laughing softly.
You tilted your head, “Shouldn’t you hear the rest of the question?”
“I don’t need him to finish, I would be honored to be your husband,” Jungkook replied, earning a few “aww” from the crowd.
When the officiant repeated the line with your name, you answered without hesitation, “I do.”
Jungkook’s shoulders eased in an exhale he didn’t bother hiding.
The rings came next. Jungkook’s hands didn’t shake, but yours did slightly. And the officiant said the final line, “I now pronounce you husband and wife!”
Jungkook didn’t wait for permission that he may kiss you now, and he pulled you in closer to him. But he didn’t kiss you immediately, either.
First, he leaned in, pressed his forehead against yours, “Finally,” he murmured. Then, after that, he kissed you, and the crowd erupted into applause.
When you pulled back, Jungkook’s face was still inches away from yours when he said, “You’re mine.”
“And you’re mine,” you replied.
His parents smiled at the sight of the two of you.
Relieved and proud, because their son, the one who lived inside an armor his whole life with walls built up so high, was finally home with you.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The reception was still formal and huge, but it felt warmer somehow. You stood beside Jungkook as friends, colleagues, distant cousins, directors, and business partners approached with respectful and rehearsed congratulatory lines. Jungkook responded politely, but with visible impatience each time someone lingered too long.
Halfway through the guest, he leaned slightly closer, “You look tired.”
You scoffed softly, “There are seven hundred people here.”
“And you’ve looked at none of them.”
You lifted your eyes to his, “Have you?”
“No, I only have eyes for you,” he answered matter of factly, his gaze didn’t waver and he added, “Let’s step outside.”
You didn’t want to argue with him because you did need the space to breathe.
The two of you slipped through a side corridor. Jungkook opened a door leading to a balcony overlooking the city.
You exhaled once you stepped outside to the balcony.
He watched you quietly for a moment, “Is it all too much?”
“It’s a lot,” you admitted, “but it’s not bad.”
“You handled it well.”
“You did too.”
He stepped closer, still looking at you, “I know you wanted something smaller.”
You looked up at him, “I knew this couldn’t be small.”
“There was a way to make it smaller,” he said, “I didn’t want it.”
You were taken aback, you thought a person as private as Jungkook would want to make it smaller, “Why?”
“So everyone sees who I married,” Jungkook said, his eyes not leaving yours.
You let out a small laugh, “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
“I know, I’m not trying to prove anything,” Jungkook added, “I’m establishing it.”
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
You never stopped working after the wedding. That was the first boundary you set, one you made very clear even before you agreed to marry Jungkook.
You told him you would never be a full-time housewife, not because there was anything wrong with it, but because you had spent too many years building yourself back up from nothing.
And Jungkook never argued, he never even hesitated.
If anything, he expected it from you.
So when your contract at the startup ended, you moved into the Jeon business. The Jeon tried to tell you to just accept a position as a director, but you refused because you weren’t experienced enough to become one and you told them you wanted to do it on your own.
So you applied, you went through every stage, from initial screening, panel interview, case assignment, and final interview. When the recruiter tried to fast-track you, you politely declined.
You weren’t interested in being boosted into a high position you didn’t deserve.
So you entered Jeon Retail as a junior associate. The pay was good, the pace was brutal, and the expectations were high. You kept your head down for a year, did the work, delivered the numbers, and handled the pressure well.
Then they promoted you to a senior role, one you clearly deserved and you were proud of it.
Jungkook was too. You could tell by the way he checked your reports sometimes, not to interfere, but because he liked knowing what you were working on. You used to catch him reading through your project decks in the evenings, impressed by your quality of work.
You have now settled into your routine as Mrs. Jeon.
You’d wake up, go to work, go back home, and spend time with your husband.
It has been a perfect routine for you.
Until today.
You ignored it at first, you thought the uneasiness in your stomach was probably because of the bad breakfast you had. Then, halfway through reviewing a quarterly product performance, a wave of nausea hit so instantly that your hand flew to your mouth.
You stood up quickly, it made a loud enough sound that Kei, your coworker, at the next desk looked up.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just need some air,” you said as you walked straight to the restroom and you just barely made it to the stall before you threw up.
It could have been food poisoning, stress, or just fatigue.
But you knew what it could be.
It has been a year of not preventing anything, a year of waiting for nothing to happen, and a year of telling yourself not to be disappointed.
You decided to clock out for lunch, grabbed your coat, and walked out of the building without telling anyone where you were going.
There was a convenience store just right across the street, the one you would buy your snacks for work from. You stepped inside quickly, headed down to the aisle, grabbed the test, paid without looking at the cashier, and walked back to the office with the small bag hidden under your blazer.
Once inside your office building, you went straight to the restroom again, locked the door, sat on the toilet seat, and forced yourself to calm down.
You didn’t want to be disappointed again. It has been a year since your marriage and nothing since then has happened.
Then you took the test, one second passed.
Then five.
Then ten.
And you saw two clear lines.
You just stared at it.
You stared until your throat tightened and your chest was beating loudly, and your hand came up instinctively to cover your mouth.
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.
You were so relieved but it hit you so suddenly that your body doesn’t know what to do, how to respond, or how to act.
You stood carefully, splashed water on your face, dried your hands, and walked back to your desk, and your boss spotted you the second you sat down.
She frowned, “You look pale.”
You forced a smile, “I think I'm just tired.”
“You were vomiting earlier,” she cut you off before you could even finish your sentence, “you should go back home.”
You blinked, “Can I really take the rest of the day?”
“Yes,” she said, “go.”
You nodded, gathered your things, and left quickly.
You weren’t going back home, no. You needed to make sure what you saw was real. So you decided to head to a hospital.
Not to the Jeon hospital, you weren't stupid. If you stepped foot into a Jeon-owned medical center, four things would happen immediately:
Security would notify the administration.
Administration would notify the medical director.
The medical director would notify someone in Jungkook’s team.
Jungkook’s team would notify the Jeon Jungkook himself.
And you wanted him to hear it first from you, not from anyone else.
So you chose a small hospital in Seoul. A small one with no affiliations to the Jeon. Just a quiet clinic where no one looked at your face long enough to recognize it.
The doctor performed the test quickly, then she looked at you with a smile across her face, “Congratulations,” she said, “You’re about five weeks pregnant.”
You left the hospital at around 2:30 PM with the ultrasound image inside your bag. You got in the taxi, leaned your head against the window, and kept your hand on your stomach the entire ride home.
You reached the penthouse around 3:00 PM. The housekeeper wasn’t there, she only came in the mornings, per Jungkook’s preference for privacy.
Everything was quiet, and the master bedroom looked exactly the same as it did when you left that morning.
You walked in with one plan in mind:
You would prepare balloons and maybe a small sign saying, “Welcome home, dad!”
But the moment you stepped into the room, another wave of nausea hit you so hard you had to grab the back of a chair.
You stumbled to the bathroom, threw up again, then dragged the trash bin to the side of the bed. The doctor said it was normal, but it didn’t feel normal, it felt exhausting.
You didn’t want to call Jungkook.
You knew exactly where he was. He told you he would be in a high-level of importance meeting with his father and all the major directors to finalize their Singapore expansion. It was an important project, one he has spent months preparing for.
He didn’t need you interrupting it, especially not for something he couldn’t fix immediately.
So you called Taehwan instead, “Can you please bring me the vitamins the doctor prescribed me? I’ll send you a picture of the prescription,” you asked.
“Of course,” he answered without asking any further questions, which was perfect since you really didn’t want to have to explain yourself.
You hung up, laid on your bed, and closed your eyes.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
Jungkook didn’t notice the vibration on his phone until the board director stopped speaking.
Taehwan: Mrs. Jeon is unwell.
Jungkook stood up immediately, and half the room turned to look at him, startled. His father raised an eyebrow at his son, “Jungkook?”
“It’s my wife,” Jungkook said, already gathering his things, “I need to go.”
“What happened with my daughter?” Mr. Jeon asked, everyone could even see even the chairman was worried.
“She’s sick,” he said whispering to his father, Jungkook didn’t want anyone irrelevant to know.
His father didn’t question it further, Mr. Jeon lifted a hand dismissively and said, “Go.”
Jungkook didn’t waste another second.
He was furious, not at you, but at the situation.
At the fact that you told Taehwan first and that you probably thought you didn’t want to make Jungkook worried.
He knew why you did it. You didn’t want to interrupt him, or pull him out of work. But he was your husband now, you were and will always be his priority.
The entire drive home, Jungkook’s hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, and his jaw was clenched the whole time.
Taehwan thankfully has already put your medicines in the receptionist of your penthouse building, now Jungkook would know how to help you.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
You must have drifted off for a few minutes, the nausea made you so tired, and the warmth of the blanket pressed against your body kept you even more sleepy.
Then the bedroom door opened, abruptly, without knocking which surprised you because Taehwan would not dare do such a thing.
You didn’t lift your head, but still called out for him anyway, “Taehwan?”
And when you heard no immediate reply, you looked up slowly.
Jungkook stood there in the doorway, his tie loosened but still not removed, and his hair slightly disheveled like he rushed to be here.
You sighed, “Damn you, Taehwan.”
His right hand man is so loyal to him, he could never keep anything from Jungkook.
Jungkook ignored the comment completely. He walked inside the master bedroom, his eyes sweeping over the bed, your pale face, and the trash bin beside you, “Have you been throwing up?”
You nodded weakly, “Please give me the meds.”
He didn’t hand them over, instead he tried to get you to get up, “Let’s go to the hospital.”
“No, I’m fine, Jungkook.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re throwing up,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly, “and you look weak, get up.”
You shook your head, “I just need the medicine that Taehwan handed to you.”
He didn’t budge, sit, or blink. He stood there looking at you like he was trying to analyze why you were sick, “Why didn’t you call me?”
You didn’t want to answer.
“Y/N,” Jungkook’s tone sharpened, “Why didn’t you call me?”
You swallowed nervously, “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You would never bother me,” he answered instantly.
He stepped closer to the bed, “Next time,” he said, “you call me first, before anyone, including Taehwan, before my parents or your mother. I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing. You have to call me first.”
You looked away, you didn’t want to agree since Jungkook is literally the busiest man in South Korea for a reason.
“Mrs. Jeon.”
And that made your head snap back towards him. He has only used that tone and title to call you once, and that was during one of the biggest fights you’ve ever had with Jungkook.
You sighed, “Okay, understood baby.”
His expression softened instantly after he heard the last word you said to him, “Good,” he said quietly, “now get up, I’m taking you to the hospital.”
You pushed yourself slightly to sit upright, “You seriously don’t need to.”
“Why?” he asked, “you’re clearly sick.”
“Because,” you hesitated as your hand reached for your bag automatically, “because I’m pregnant.”
The room went silent. You pulled the ultrasound image from your bag and held it out for him with shaky fingers.
Jungkook didn’t move for a full second, then he stepped forward slowly to take the ultrasound image you were holding.
He looked at the image and his breath stopped.
Jungkook didn’t speak, his mouth didn’t fall open. The reaction was more subtle than that, but he also wasn’t smiling or saying anything.
And that scared you.
Because you knew Jungkook before the wedding. You remembered the confession he once told you, “I don’t know if I should have children. I don’t want them to turn out like me.”
But then the past year, your marriage life happened. And Jungkook somehow already has ideas of turning a guest room into a nursery, and looked at stroller models with the same focus he puts in for business acquisitions.
So him being silent after looking at the ultrasound scan terrified you.
“Are you upset?” you asked him.
Still nothing.
Until he finally said, “I’m sorry.”
You looked at him confused, “Why are you sorry?”
He turned the ultrasound around so you could see the scan, and said, with complete seriousness, “Because you’re sick because of this little cunt.”
Your mouth fell open, “I’m sorry, did you just call our kid a cunt?”
“Yes,” he didn’t even blink, "you're sick because of them,” Jungkook continued, “and you are my priority.”
You wanted to laugh but you held it in, “Aren’t you happy?”
His eyes looked into yours, “Of course I’m happy, but not when you’re sick.”
You finally stopped trying to hold your laugh, “You can not hate our kid.”
“Hate?” he repeated, looking offended, “I love them already.”
You blinked, “Then why did you call them a cunt?”
“Because they’re making you sick,” he said, “and nothing gets to hurt you, nothing.”
You shook your head, overwhelmed, “That’s not, you know it’s normal, Jungkook.”
He ignored that completely.
He moved closer to the bed, then he lowered himself onto one knee beside you. Jungkook rested one hand on the mattress beside your hip. The other hovered over your stomach before he finally placed it there gently.
“But they should not be a burden to you,” he said quietly, “they should not make their mother sick, they should not make my wife pale and throw up, which also means,” he continued, “I need to admit you at the hospital.”
“Jungkook," you rolled your eyes at him.
He leaned forward and kissed your stomach. The moment lasted longer than you expected. When he pulled back, he quickly stood up and looked down at you, “Next time something feels off, you tell me. Immediately.”
You nodded, “Okay. Can I ask something?” you whispered.
He tilted his head slightly, “Hmm?”
You sat up carefully, “You’re not upset?”
He blinked at you, “Why would I be upset?”
“You were quiet when I told you the news.”
“I was calculating.”
“Calculating what?” you asked confusedly.
He looked at you then, “How fast I needed to reorganize my life and how to keep both of you safe.”
This time, a tear fell before you could stop it, “Hormones,” you mumbled.
He didn’t argue or tease you like he usually would do, he just nodded once before kissing your forehead.
Most people soften when becoming parents.
Jungkook didn’t just soften, he found a new purpose.
And that made you feel safer than anything else in the world.
Yandere Rukawa Kaede—he’s convinced you’re his soulmate
An aloof teenager with an extreme talent in basketball, a star player who received accolades from different people from his school. He was someone capable of playing different positions in basketball and never lacks in his plays—he gave it his all for improvement, disciplining himself for the better. To achieve his aspirations and to have fun as he enters the court.
Set aside his capabilities, he also had the looks. In the past two years of middle school, he always had the most chocolates out of all the male students during Valentine’s Day. It was because of his nonchalant attitude and chiselled features—an acne-free skin, long lashes and soft hair that sways as he plays, it all compliments him as a pretty yet handsome guy.
He’s tall, and even has a built body—albeit not too prominent—from his constant training he spends on basketball. He was basically the dream guy almost all teenagers wish was their soulmate, including yourself.
Unlike him, you weren’t blessed in the world of sportsmanship nor the beauty. You were someone many people were convinced was the epitome of mediocre. Average grades, average skills, and average looks. You were neither shabby nor special, just an average joe on the pavements wandering around.
You couldn’t get why he was completely smitten by you. You admit—the two of you were childhood sweethearts, but that was in the past! you didn’t wanna linger by his side any longer, people would assume the two of you are lovers and then proceed to assassinate you in the name of their obsession with your best friend.
Ever since the two of you started middle school, both of you were told that during those times, you’ll feel the symptoms of something corny called Soulmate Syndrome. A mental diagnosis which completely shuts down all your sexual and other romantic feelings for anybody—regardless of gender.
At that time, he suddenly blurted it out when the two of you went to his favorite spot of playing basketball. He sat down on the bench, right beside you—drowning in his sweat as he was playing with his ball, practicing his 3-pointers while you accompanied him. You were stuck with him after he dragged you out of your household.
“Did you bring an extra tee?” You asked, not peeling your eyes away from the novel you’re reading. You flipped a page, his answer late to your question.
“..no.” He meekly replied. You closed your book, and immediately he turned his gaze away, admiring the flourishing flowers near the dewy grass. “And you brought a ball but not a spare t-shirt?”
Rukawa could feel your side-eye impaling his sweaty body. He was heaving so much that his chest could be seen moving up and down as he was heavily breathing in air to maintain equilibrium. His arms lay flat on his thighs, his ball cuddling close in between his arm and side of his chest.
“I’m about to go home.”
“Oh, shut up. You’re lucky I brought one of your shirts you left behind in our house.” You handed him the shirt in your hand. “I’m not gonna look at you change, but hurry up.”
“Thank you.” He took it from your hand. You turned around to prevent invading his privacy, you could care less about the passersby having a glance at a random boy changing.
“Ya done?” You inquired. He hummed in confirmation. As you turned around, he was using his already drenched shirt to clean his face and dry his hair. You were probably looking way more than you were supposed to, but you were too enamoured with his captivating pulchritude.
He was maturing. Both of you were. He was no longer that big doe-eyed kid from elementary, his eyes were becoming more vile and sharper under his whorls of hair. His cheeks held less fat than when he was a kid, and his nose was becoming more prominent too. Even when he’s playing basketball, he maintains a surreal and delicate face.
“[name]..you’re staring.” You pop out of your bubble—gazing directly back at Rukawa. He’d turn into a tomato at this rate with how red his cheeks and ears were. He turned away in a way that conceived him shy—that was the most emotion you’ve seen from him aside from that flat, blank expression he holds.
“Oopsies.. sorry,” a sheepish grin on your lips as you scratched the back of your head. It was still cold, and the breeze from last night remains stagnant in the atmosphere—nipping against your skin. You had forgotten to bring a hoodie or sweater with you.
“[name].. My parents were talking about it the other day and I can’t help but assume that you’re my soulmate.”
You can’t decide whether you should be astonished by the fact that he has spoken more than five words or reciprocate his feelings for you. Instead, you burst out a big laugh. “That’s a funny joke, Kaede.”
“I’m not joking. You’re my soulmate.” He confirms with his brief yet prim words. You knew he was not someone who was good with jokes, but right now, you made an absolute mockery of yourself because you believed that it was a joke.
Big sweats now dripped your forehead, you were becoming nervous and anxious by each second. It was unlikely that you’d be his soulmate even if the two of you were childhood friends. “Uh—well, isn’t it a bit too early? I mean, we’re still in our second year of middle school. You might find someone better than me, plus—” your words were cut short when he interrupted you.
“Nobody’s better than you. You’re the best in my eyes.” He says, hunching over you. He was bigger than before, way bigger than you. Before he’ll enter high school, he might just be over six foot by that time as it did not seem to you that he’ll stop nurturing.
“Maybe now because you’ll find your actual soulmate somewhere in high school.” You notice he was now petting you, laying his hand on your hair to ruffle it gently. “Yeah.”
For once, he finally said something you can agree to. “I’ll find you after classes in our high school.” Or maybe not. He was fully convinced that you were his soulmate, there was no denying that. However, it doesn’t seem lucid to you.
For the past school years, you successfully dodged Rukawa most of the time he made contact with you. Of course—it wasn’t successful every time because he’d find you and force you to hang out with him. He’s just that convinced that you’re his soulmate.
summary: desperate to see if a man devoted to god will unravel, you test his faith with your sweet, deceptive innocence—seducing fr. jeon until his devotion no longer belongs to god…but to you.
warnings: priest jungkook x sinful reader, explicit sexual content, forbidden relationship, candle wax play, rosary choking, edging, clit rubbing, filthy sexual desires, spitting, degradation, mock sympathy, pussy eating, condescending dirty talk, blow job, cum eating, usage of whore & slut, praising, cum eating, m. masturbation, manipulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie.
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂
Temptation, they said, was the devil's favorite weapon…subtle, patient, and often disguised as something beautiful.
Your beauty was the kind that invited sin. Like a priceless painting in a museum, admired by many but forbidden to touch, existing only to test the restraint of those who stood before it.
Yet despite the effect you seemed to have on everyone else, Fr. Jeon remained frustratingly untouched by it all. Men had always looked twice, their attention lingering long enough to make their interest known. But his eyes never lingered on you. They would meet yours for a fleeting moment before moving on, calm and unwavering, carrying the same gentle warmth they offered every soul that walked through the church doors.
Pathetic.
Wearing a long white virginal skirt, a matching conservative blouse, and your hair falling neatly down your waist, you grabbed your purse before heading downstairs to meet Sana.
“Glad you finally wore something decent,” Sana commented with a sheepish smile when she saw you stepping out of your house.
You pouted, looking down at the modest skirt fluttering around your ankles. “My cute dresses are decent too, you know.”
You weren’t a very religious person, but when your friend Sana told you she wanted to join the church choir, you were more than happy to come with her.
Between the two of you, she was the religious one—always carrying a small pocket bible in her purse, always reminding you to watch your words and actions because God was watching.
A lot of your friends were confused about how the two of you became so close. You were playful, rebellious, and bratty—more of a bad influence beside someone so polite and devout. But despite your mischievous nature, you were very sweet, friendly and charming. At university, you were one of the popular students, with plenty of friends and a reputation as a social butterfly.
When you first met Sana, you hadn’t expected the two of you to get along. She was a new student, still adjusting to the unfamiliar environment and trying to find her place among the other students. Being the friendly social butterfly that you were, you became the first person to approach her.
Your personalities couldn’t have been more different. Sana was calm, reserved, and quiet, while you were bold, bright, and loud.
Despite being complete opposites, the two of you grew unexpectedly close. You liked Sana because she was a breath of fresh air. Her calmness grounded the chaos within you, while your playfulness brought balance and excitement to her peaceful life.
Ever since you became best friends, you often accompanied her to church. Although you looked somewhat out of place trailing behind her while she helped with various church duties, volunteer work, and parish activities...you still enjoyed spending time with her.
You liked how she always listened to your rants and endless rambles. Following her around while she busied herself carrying boxes and helping wherever she could, your kitten heels clicked softly against the church’s marbled floors, and the longest dress you could find in your closet swayed gently with every step. As unusual as it felt to be dressed so modestly, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed these moments with Sana.
Your usual style of dressing didn’t exactly align with the church’s dress code… you had to trade your short skirts, midriff-baring tops, tight dresses, and cute spaghetti-strap tops for something more... demure.
At first, you tried to argue against it, but Sana quickly reminded you that those clothes weren’t appropriate for church. And of course, you had no choice but to listen unless you wanted another lecture about being a poor instrument of the Lord.
“Since when did you become a singer?” you teased as the two of you entered the church alongside a few parishioners and choir members.
Sana was dressed similarly to you, wearing a long skirt paired with a flowy long-sleeved blouse. In her right hand, she carried a small booklet filled with choir songs.
She pouted. “I can sing a bit, you know.” she opened the booklet and flipped through its pages. “As long as I’m serving the Lord, then no voice shall sound bad.”
You chuckled, already accustomed to her holy little remarks.
“If you say so,” you sang back playfully, following her up to the choir loft. You offered a polite smile to the other choir members, who were already busy practicing.
Since you weren’t actually there to join the choir, you let Sana focus on rehearsal while you wandered around the church on your own. Normally, you would have spent the entire time chatting her ear off, rambling about anything and everything, but today you let her concentrate.
A few parishioners were arranging fresh flowers around the framed images of saints, while others carefully dusted and polished the statues lining the church walls. The distant voices of the choir drifted through the air, blending with the soft murmur of prayers and quiet conversations, creating a peaceful atmosphere that settled gently around you.
When Sana first invited you to come with her to church, you had agreed out of nothing more than curiosity. You traded your usual weekend night outs for sunday mass, wanting to see the world through her eyes and understand why this place, with its quiet prayers and solemn rituals, meant so much to her.
The church offered a kind of quiet that rarely existed in your everyday life. Away from crowded parties, endless conversations, and the glittering chaos of your social circle, there was something unexpectedly comforting about this place. It gave you a chance to slow down, to breathe, and to simply exist without needing to be the loudest person in the room.
“Good morning, Fr. Jeon.” a few choir members and parishioners greeted.
You turned around absentmindedly, your head tilting curiously when you saw a priest entering through one of the church's side doors. Dressed in a long black cassock, he offered everyone a warm smile and a slight bow as he stepped inside.
A new priest?
“Are you here for the charity blessing, Fr. Jeon?” someone asked.
The woman approached him and received a gentle pat on the head in return.
He smiled. “Yes, I stopped by to gather a few materials for the blessing.”
Your head tilted slightly as you watched him, finding yourself taking an unconscious step forward.
A handsome fucking priest.
For the past few months that you'd been spending time at the church with Sana, this was the first time you'd seen him, and unfortunately for your soul, he was ridiculously attractive.
You found yourself shamelessly staring, almost in awe as he greeted everyone with effortless kindness.
He bowed politely, acknowledged each person with a warm smile, and listened attentively whenever someone spoke to him. It should've been a crime for a priest to be that good-looking.
Sinful.
The long black cassock he wore looked attractively sinful wrapped around someone so impossibly holy, the stark contrast only making him harder to ignore. His sharp jawline became more pronounced whenever he turned to greet someone with a kind smile, and a pair of thin-framed glasses rested neatly on his nose, lending him an air of quiet intelligence that did absolutely nothing to help your situation. His eyes were dark and warm behind the lenses, attentive whenever he listened to someone speak, and his jet-black hair was styled neatly, though a few stubborn strands had fallen across his forehead.
Everything about him looked composed, dignified, and entirely inappropriate for the thoughts currently running through your head.
You almost let out a dramatic gasp when Fr. Jeon finally waved his goodbye and turned to leave. A curse nearly slipped from your lips as you watched him make his way toward the church doors.
Everyone else had managed to greet him and earn one of his warm smiles, some even receiving a fond pat on the head. Meanwhile, you had spent the entire time standing near the altar, staring at him like an absolute creep, too mesmerized by his existence.
Internally rolling your eyes at yourself and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, you watched him disappear through the church doors. And then, because apparently your dignity had already left the building before he did, you immediately made your way back to Sana, who was still busy practicing her choir lines.
“So...” you began, trailing behind Sana as she walked around with her booklet, quietly memorizing her choir pieces.
“Is Fr. Jeon a real priest?”
Sana lowered the booklet and stared at you, her brows knitting together as she caught the suspicious wiggle of your eyebrows.
“Huh?”
“I mean...” you hesitated. “Is he a real priest or, like… an intern priest?”
The moment the words left your mouth, you realized how stupid they sounded.
Was there even such a thing as a priest internship?
Sana blinked. Then she burst out laughing. “He's a real priest, Y/N. What do you mean, intern priest?”
Your cheeks immediately warmed. You looked away while she continued laughing, lifting the booklet back up as you followed after her.
You pouted. “Well... he looks young.” And hot. “And I've never seen him before. Every time I've attended mass with you, he wasn't the presider.”
You tried to think back to the past few months but came up empty. No handsome priests. Because if there had been one, you definitely would've remembered.
In fact, you were pretty sure you would've started sitting in the front row.
“Yeah, because he only got appointed recently,” Sana answered, her attention back on the booklet. “A few months ago, I think.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, almost groaning when you haven’t met him before he got appointed.
What the fuck, Y/N. Are you seriously eyeing a priest?
Absolutely not. That was...unholy!
For the following weeks, you found yourself clinging to Sana more than usual.
At first, you convinced yourself it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Going to church with her wasn't exactly new.
You just weren't nearly as consistent as she was.
There were plenty of sundays you skipped altogether, choosing late nights with your friends over early mornings in church. Besides, you figured there would always be another mass to attend, while convincing Sana to show up at one of your parties was practically impossible.
That was why you never attended as regularly as she did.
Lately, however, the situation seemed to have reversed. Now, you were the one volunteering to come.
Party invitations sat unanswered in your messages. Night outs were declined without hesitation. Instead, you found yourself asking Sana about choir practice, church activities, and whether she planned on volunteering for any upcoming events.
It was becoming a little concerning.
Wearing one of your now-usual long skirts and a modest blouse approved by church standards, you applied an extra layer of lip gloss in front of your mirror. Excitement bubbled inside you as you remembered what Sana had told you earlier that week—a charity event was coming up, and the church needed volunteers to help organize donations.
There had been plenty of charity events before, many of which you had skipped. Sana would usually spend the entire day helping sort donations and assisting the parishioners, leaving little time for the two of you to actually spend together. As much as you enjoyed tagging along with her, wandering around the church by yourself for hours wasn't exactly appealing.
This time, however, you were genuinely excited to come.
It wasn't as though you couldn't visit the church on your own. Nobody would stop you if you decided to drop by one afternoon.
The problem was that it would be… strange.
Ever since you started coming to church, it had always been because of Sana. Everyone knew you as her friend, not as someone particularly devoted to the church.
If you suddenly started showing up by yourself every weekend, people would notice. You weren't exactly known for your devotion.
Especially when the answer involved a certain priest.
It was already strange enough that you were beginning to resemble a devoted Christian.
False piety.
When you arrived at the church, your heartbeat picked up immediately. Volunteers moved in and out of the building carrying boxes and supplies, conversations blending into a lively hum that filled the grounds.
“You can help with the boxes, Y/N. I'll just talk to the choir members,” Sana said with a smile.
You nodded a little too eagerly, grateful she didn’t question your sudden burst of interest in coming with her to church. It helped that you had accompanied her before—enough for it to not feel completely out of the blue.
“Okay! I'll help with the boxes!” you smiled brightly.
The moment Sana wandered off to join the other choir members, you immediately began looking around for ways to help.
“Let me carry those,” you offered with a bright smile, reaching for a volunteer struggling with a stack of old toy boxes meant for donation.
The woman thanked you and asked if you could bring them outside, where a small truck was parked to collect everything.
You happily agreed.
“I hope he comes today,” you muttered under your breath as you carried the boxes toward the truck, your eyes drifting toward the church entrance every few seconds.
According to Sana, Fr. Jeon frequently stopped by to check on donation drives, visit the parish office, or help coordinate volunteer work.
You had already carried nine boxes, then… ten. With every trip back and forth, you found yourself slowly losing hope that Fr. Jeon would show up at all. You were starting to regret wearing your cutest pink skirt today, and the growing disappointment was beginning to settle in alongside your irritation.
Just as you were about to accept that all your effort had been wasted, Fr. Jeon finally appeared, walking into the church hall.
Your eyes widened.
“Fuck—” you immediately winced, biting your lip the moment the word escaped. Mentally apologizing for cursing inside the church.
With a fresh box of donations balanced in your arms, you hurried toward the entrance, trying your best to look useful, helpful and responsible. Like the kind of person who volunteered here regularly and wasn't secretly waiting for your handsome priest to show up.
Your heart hammered against your ribs when he finally glanced in your direction.
“Good day,” he greeted with a smile and a polite nod, raising his right hand to gently pat your head.
Your cheeks immediately flushed, almost dropping the boxes when he touched you.
He patted my head!
Today, he was dressed in a fitted black long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into black slacks, a simple brown cross necklace resting against his chest. His jet-black hair was styled neatly away from his face, exposing a heart-shaped forehead that made him look unfairly handsome. He wore his usual pair of glasses, the thin frames resting on the bridge of his nose and softening the sharpness of his features. Behind the lenses, his round eyes looked steady and attentive, always observant, as if he noticed everything without ever needing to say so.
Goodness gracious.
Your gaze drifted lower, almost shamelessly staring…only to pause on his right hand.
You frowned slightly, you wanted to take a longer look, but his sleeves hid the rest of his arms from view, making it impossible to tell how far they extended.
Was that a tattoo?
For some reason, that discovery stunned you more than it should have. Priests and tattoos weren't exactly a combination you'd ever imagined together.
You were so distracted staring at his hand that you didn't realize he had already walked past you and moved on to greet the other volunteers.
You didn't even greet him back! Oh God.
Panic immediately settled in your chest. Adjusting your grip on the donation box, you hurried after him, determined to salvage the interaction somehow. You just needed a reason to talk to him.
A simple religious question, maybe?
Unfortunately, your brain had chosen this exact moment to stop working.
You couldn't exactly walk up to him and ask if priests were allowed to have tattoos. Nor could you suddenly start quoting bible verses when the majority of your religious knowledge came from Sana lecturing you every other week.
You wanted to sound natural and virginal.
The problem was that you had absolutely no idea how to start a holy conversation without sounding fake about it, like you were trying too hard to be someone you weren’t.
When you saw him entering the church office, you frowned and stomped your foot against the floor in irritation.
Pity.
You were a bit disappointed when his gaze didn’t even linger on you. You were used to boys in college always noticing you…showing their interest, getting swayed by your pretty face and charming personality. But here, inside the church, you were nothing more than another kind volunteer in his eyes—someone he greeted with the same calm respect he gave everyone else.
Importunate.
At this point, it had become a routine. You would come to church with Sana after school, grateful she had joined the choir because it gave you an excuse to be there almost every day instead of only on weekends.
While she attended rehearsals, you spent your afternoons helping with volunteer work and assisting the parishioners...all while discreetly searching the church grounds for your future boyfriend.
You even started dressing for it—slipping into the most “virginal” outfits your closet could offer in hopes of blending in. Long skirts, conservative blouses, dresses that covered everything they possibly could. It was almost laughable how much effort you put into looking like the perfect church girl, when a few months ago you would’ve rather died than be seen in half of these outfits.
The worst part was that it wasn't even guaranteed to work.
There were days when your timing simply didn't align. You would arrive at the church only to hear that Fr. Jeon had already stopped by earlier, or spend the afternoon helping around the parish before finding out he had come and gone while you were busy elsewhere. Sometimes you would leave just before he arrived, missing him by mere minutes.
You would come home without seeing even a glimpse of him, staring at your ceiling later that night and wondering why you felt so deflated over someone you barely knew.
Then there were the good days—when your schedules happened to align and you finally saw him. Your eyes would immediately light up the moment you spotted him across the church grounds, your smile growing brighter despite your attempts to act normal, your cheeks burning whenever he greeted you with that gentle smile and absentminded pat on the head.
Transgression.
At first, seeing him had been enough. Now, however, you found yourself expecting more. Not much...just a conversation that lasted longer than a few seconds. Something beyond charity drives, donation boxes, retreats, and volunteer work.
But Fr. Jeon was frustratingly...polite.
He greeted everyone with the same kindness, smiled at everyone with the same warmth, and spoke to everyone with the same respectful attentiveness. Whenever you managed to stand near him long enough for a conversation, he would ask about the charity, the donations, the volunteers, or whatever church event happened to be coming up next.
The discussion always remained firmly within the boundaries of church matters, and before you knew it, he would excuse himself to continue helping elsewhere.
You couldn't even ask him anything personal. Every question that came to mind sounded ridiculous the moment you imagined saying it out loud. Are those tattoos real? How old are you? Why are you so handsome for a priest?
None of them exactly sounded appropriate for church conversation.
So you remained stuck in this strange little cycle of yours, coming to church almost everyday with hopes far bigger than the interactions you actually received. And despite how ridiculous it felt, despite how much you scolded yourself for it, the highlight of your day was still that brief smile and the weight of his hand resting atop your head for a few seconds.
Shameful.
A shame that you had never actually talked to him.
Not beyond a few good afternoons exchanged in passing and the occasional greeting whenever your paths crossed around the church.
You didn't want to be too bold, afraid that he would notice your embarrassingly obvious attempts to get his attention. As someone who wasn't particularly religious, you found yourself in an absurd predicament.
Should you start reading the bible? Memorize a few scriptures? Learn enough about church teachings to hold an intelligent conversation with him?
The fact that you were even considering studying scripture just to impress a priest made you question every life decision that had led you to this point.
You wanted his eyes to linger on you. Wanted him to look at you a little longer than everyone else. Wanted to feel special in some way. But every time your gaze met his, he would simply smile and move on, his attention never staying in one place for too long.
Sometimes you wondered if the only thing capable of holding his complete devotion was God himself.
Which was unfortunate for you. Because you were used to being noticed.
You were pretty, and you knew it. Attention had always come easily to you, yet the one man whose attention you wanted most remained completely out of reach.
A man who was distant, unattainable, and forbidden in every possible sense of the word.
Standing in front of your mirror that afternoon, you smoothed down your floral dress and examined your reflection one last time. The modest dress fell neatly against your figure, paired with white kitten heels that made you look far more innocent than you actually were. You dabbed a little extra blush onto your cheeks before adding a touch more glitter to your eyelids, your excitement growing as you remembered what Sana had told you earlier that week.
Fr. Jeon would be presiding over today's mass.
It would be the first mass of his that you would be attending, and as you stared at yourself in the mirror, unable to stop smiling, you realized your excitement felt dangerously close to the kind of anticipation one would have before a date.
Sana had noticed that you were coming with her far more often nowadays, but being as naive and obedient as she was, she only took it as a good sign. In her eyes, your heart was simply getting closer to God, closer to faith, closer to something pure and meaningful.
Closer to Fr. Jeon, rather.
“You look excited,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling when you mentioned wanting to sit in the front row. The thought only made her happier, convinced that your devotion was finally deepening in the way she had always hoped for you.
Oh, you were devoted.
“Excited for the Mass, you know,” you replied with a small giggle, clasping your hands together as if to sell the image. “Wonder what bible chapter will be discussed today.”
Of course you were gonna listen, be a good little church girl and have your eyes and attention to him.
Your eyes were practically shining when you stepped into the church, making a beeline for the front row without hesitation. You sat down shamelessly, smoothing your skirt as if you had done this every sunday of your life.
Sana only smiled at your eagerness, completely oblivious to the fact that your decision had nothing to do with spiritual focus and everything to do with proximity. Sitting at the front felt less like devotion and more like VIP seating for the sole purpose of seeing Fr. Jeon up close.
When the bell finally rang, the entire church rose to its feet. Your heart kicked up immediately as the sacristans entered in procession, one of them carrying a smoking thurible that swung gently with each step. And right at the center of it all was him.
Your future boyfriend.
Your lips parted slightly, eyes widening as Fr. Jeon walked slowly down the nave with calm, deliberate steps. His hands were clasped together in front of him in prayer, and he wore the full liturgical vestments—a long white linen robe beneath a green chasuble, a thin stole draped over his shoulders, and a cincture tied neatly at his waist. The fabric moved softly as he walked, making him look almost unreal under the church lights, like something out of a painting you weren’t supposed to stare at for too long.
He greeted people with gentle smiles along the way, bowing his head politely, even pausing to pat a few children on the head as he passed the pews.
By the time he reached the altar, your attention was fully locked in.
Disingenuous.
You nodded a little too eagerly when responses were required, your voice coming out brighter than necessary during the choir parts, as if enthusiasm alone could prove your devotion. Every time he spoke, your focus sharpened, hanging onto his words a little too intently, even when you were supposed to be blending in with the rest of the congregation.
He was wearing his usual pair of glasses, slowly turning the pages of the bible with precise, practiced movements. His voice was steady and clear as he read, each word delivered with a calm authority that made it clear this role suited him completely. There was nothing rushed about him, nothing uncertain.. only a quiet certainty in the way he stood at the altar, as if it had always belonged to him.
By now, you had started mirroring him without even realizing it. Whenever he closed his eyes to say the prayers, you would close yours too, hands folded a little tighter than necessary, breathing in sync with the rhythm of the mass.
You were fucking crazy.
When it was time for the holy communion, you stood up almost too quickly, your heart thudding loudly in your chest as you joined the line forming in the aisle. Each step forward felt heavier than it should have, not because of the sacrament itself, but because of who was waiting near the altar.
“Are you alright?” Sana commented quietly when she noticed your flushed expression after the bell rang.
You let out a small, awkward laugh and instinctively smoothed down your long hair, trying to compose yourself. “Just thinking about my prayers,” you said lightly, as if that explanation made any sense at all.
She gasped, like you were really serious about your prayers, when all you could think about was—
He’s gonna feed me the host!
You were almost sweating as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the moment inch closer with every step in the line. Sana’s voice was still beside you, something about God always listening and having faith in his timing, but her words barely registered anymore. Your mind was elsewhere entirely, stuck on the growing realization that you were seconds away from facing him directly.
Preparing your hands in a prayer position, your brain almost short-circuited when you finally faced him, his right tatted hand holding the host up for you.
“The Body of Christ,” he said in a soft tone, almost detached in its reverence.
You wanted him to recognize you—the obedient good girl who always volunteered at the church. But fuck, he was too absorbed in God and the communion.
Your lips parted. “Amen…”
When he finally fed you the host, you almost choked when you felt the slight, accidental brush of his index finger against your lips as he withdrew his hand. You were left completely flustered, while he remained composed and focused on the ritual, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on you.
To you, it felt intimate.
To him, it was simply the Eucharist…a sacred duty, a practiced motion repeated countless times.
When you returned to your seat and lowered yourself to kneel again, you pressed your hands together a little too tightly. In your head, you immediately apologized to God for every impure thought, questionable intention, and shameless moment you had done.
Then, without even a full second of self-reflection, you proceeded to ask if he could somehow let you be a little closer to Fr. Jeon.
Your priorities were clearly a work in progress.
“Sana, are you gonna visit the church this week?” you asked with a small smile, falling into your usual habit of checking with her.
For the past few weeks, your afternoons and weekends had quietly reshaped themselves around her schedule.
It had become something strangely comforting… helping wherever you could, spending hours in a place that once felt unfamiliar but was now slowly turning into routine.
But of course, you couldn’t deny that recently, there was another reason woven into it too.
“Nope,” Sana replied as she hugged her books closer to her chest. “I have to study this week. Finals are coming up, and I still have a chemistry exam to review for before vacation starts.”
You groaned softly and walked beside her as the two of you left the campus. “Then why don’t we just stop by for a bit? To pray for good grades?” you suggested, lifting a brow as if it was the most logical solution in the world.
Please. Please. Please agree with me.
Sana pouted, clearly considering it for a moment, and your heart almost stopped in anticipation. Then she shook her head slowly, and your excitement deflated instantly.
“You’re right,” she said gently, “but it’s a long test, Y/N. I need to review all week. God would understand.”
She smiled softly and slipped her arm through yours. “Let’s just pray at home and do the rosary before reviewing.”
You forced a small smile, though your shoulders sagged slightly at the realization. It wasn’t just a missed church visit—it was a missed chance, even if you kept telling yourself it wasn’t supposed to be about that.
Sure, you would probably still see Fr. Jeon at sunday mass. He was the new presider in the city now, after all.
But it still wasn’t the same.
You almost groaned when you found yourself at the church that saturday morning. You were wearing a cream-colored dress, kitten heels, and a rosary necklace you had recently bought for the sole purpose of impressing Fr. Jeon. You had no idea whether he would even notice it, but in your mind, it felt like the kind of thing a good church girl would wear.
Preposterous.
Sashaying your way inside, you took in the usual parishioners and volunteers already busy arranging boxes for the charity drive.
You bit your lip. This was your first time visiting the church without Sana. Still, as you walked in, you were relieved when a few volunteers recognized you.
Thank God and all the saints.
You smiled and bent down to help with the boxes, already familiar with the routine—carrying them to the truck, sorting old clothes and toys, or helping with the lists.
If any of your uni friends saw you here alone, they would be completely confused. Without Sana, your sudden appearance at church would make absolutely no sense.
“Good day, Fr. Jeon.” someone greeted, and your ears immediately perked up. You turned just in time to see him entering the church halls in his usual black long sleeves and slacks.
You were only on your third box today! He was early!
Your lips curled into a small, excited smile as you instinctively stepped closer, box still in hand, already anticipating the familiar greeting and gentle pat on the head.
“Good day,” he said as expected, offering a polite nod before his hand lifted to pat your head.
Your eyelashes fluttered.
But instead of letting him move on to greet the others…for the first time in the past few weeks, you actually gathered the courage to stop him.
“Uh, Fr. Jeon?” you called softly just as he was about to turn away.
He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Yes, sweetheart?”
Jesus– God in heaven.
Your cheeks instantly reddened at the nickname, fingers tightening around the box. Still, you forced yourself to breathe, and finally blurted out the question you had been rehearsing all night.
“Just wondering if you have any c-chapter recommendations? I’m currently reading the bible and I don’t know where to start,” you said shyly.
There was a brief flicker of pleasant surprise on his face, quietly impressed that you were asking about the bible in the first place. It wasn't often that someone approached him with genuine curiosity about scripture.
He was about to answer when, suddenly…his attention shifted.
His gaze drifted downward, landing on the rosary hanging around your neck—the small cross resting between your breasts.
His lips pursed. “Sweetheart…rosaries are not meant to be worn as necklaces,” he chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on the rosary before looking back at you.
Your eyes widened. “I-It’s not…?” you asked, your ears and neck already heating in embarrassment.
Fuck. You didn’t know that!
Fr. Jeon exhaled gently. “It’s a prayer tool,” he explained, his tone patient and calm. “Meant to be held in the hands… used in prayer, not displayed like jewelry.”
You blinked. “I-I didn’t know,” you admitted quickly, almost defensively. “I just really… like rosaries.”
Deception.
Fr. Jeon sighed softly, then lifted a hand to gently pat your head. “It’s okay…if you want, you can still wear rosary bracelets.” he offered you a small, reassuring smile.
You almost melted at his kindness. “R-Right, that would be better,” you said shyly, barely keeping yourself together.
He chuckled softly at your reaction, adjusting his glasses before finally returning to your original question. “If you’re reading the bible,” he added at last, “start with the gospels. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.”
You nodded quickly, smiling up at him as he returned a warm, genuine smile of his own.
“Noted, Fr. Jeon.” you smiled, unconsciously stepping a little closer. “...Uhm, d-do you have a bible in your office, Father?” you asked shyly, doing your best to sound innocent and academically curious.
The moment the question left your mouth, you almost mentally slapped yourself.
Of course he has a bible in his office!
You opened your mouth, ready to rephrase the question, to save yourself from the embarrassment of sounding so foolish—but Fr. Jeon answered before you could.
“I do have a few bible collections in my office…would you like to see them?” Fr. Jeon offered, gesturing gently toward the church office.
You dropped the boxes. “Oh, my-”
Your plan actually worked!
Your eyes widened in horror. Mortified, you immediately bent down to pick them up, only to find Fr. Jeon already reaching for them.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he chuckled softly, lifting the boxes with ease as if they weighed nothing. “Let me carry these.”
“S-Sorry, it was kinda heavy,” you reasoned out, your neck already turning red. You still couldn’t believe you were actually having a full conversation with him.
And now he was even taking you to his office!
The Lord had truly answered your prayers.
With a polite smile, Fr. Jeon handed the boxes to the truck before gesturing for you to follow him toward the office.
“I can let you borrow a few scriptures if you’d like. I have the new version of the bible—would you want that?” Fr. Jeon asked as he reached into his pocket for his office keys.
You nodded immediately, hands clasping together behind your back. “Uh, yeah. That would be heavenly!”
Heavenly? For Christ’s sake, Y/N.
Fr. Jeon only smiled at that, unlocking and opening the office door as if he were letting you step into a space you had no right to be so excited about.
Pious.
You had done your research last night—it had been difficult since he was such a private person, but you had managed to learn a few things.
Fr. Jeon had been ordained only six months ago and was now officially assigned as the priest of your city’s parish, something you were embarrassingly looking forward to.
He was twenty-eight. He had studied arts before eventually pursuing theology. There were only a handful of photos of him online…mostly seminarian group pictures, a few formal ones where he wasn’t wearing his usual cassock, though he was always in long sleeves.
You had even found one rare image where he had rolled his sleeve slightly during a group photo, revealing part of a tattoo on his arm beneath a white long-sleeve shirt and a cross necklace.
“Fuck… he’s hiding all that under his sleeves?” you had muttered to yourself last night, squinting at the screen and trying to find more…only to realize there was barely anything else. No social media, no casual photos, nothing.
“Take a seat here. I’ll get the books for you,” Fr. Jeon said now, smiling as he gestured toward the small couch in front of his desk.
You nodded and sat down obediently, trying very hard to look like a good parish girl.
His office was quiet and orderly in a way that immediately made you straighten your posture. The walls were lined with wooden bookshelves filled with thick religious texts, bible editions, theological commentaries, and neatly stacked parish documents. A simple desk sat against one side, organized and uncluttered, with a few folders, a pen holder, and a small lamp.
In the center of the room, mounted on the wall above the desk, hung a large crucifix—christ on the cross—watching over everything in silent stillness. The soft light from the window fell across it gently, making the entire room feel even more solemn, almost sacred.
Yet your thoughts were nowhere near sacred. You were here to attempt a very dangerous, carnal sin.
Seduction.
Masked in your perfect good-girl appearance, wondering if you could crack that unshakable composure he wore so effortlessly—if you could make his calm, holy restraint finally slip.
You slowly stood up from the couch while his back remained turned, focused on his bible scriptures. Your head tilted slightly as you tried to make it look as innocent as possible…to enter his space without revealing your true, sinful intentions.
“Fr. Jeon,” you called softly, standing too close behind him.
You needed to converse, to interact with him, to get him interested—to show him how much you adored God as much as he did.
“Hmm?” He didn’t glance at you, still focused on the scriptures.
You pouted, slowly taking a peek at what he was doing. “I was wondering if I could just read the bible here instead of borrowing it….” you attempted softly. “That way, if there’s something I don’t understand… I can ask you about it right away.” you said in a sweet, suggestive tone.
Fr. Jeon glanced at you, subtly stepping back when he realized you were right behind him, your vanilla scent brushing his senses.
He paused for a moment, looking into your hopeful eyes.
“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, a small smile appearing on his face. “That's actually a good idea. Understanding scripture is easier when you can discuss it with someone. If I'm here, feel free to ask me anything you're confused about.”
Providence.
You smiled brightly, feeling your relationship with him finally take another step forward.
“That would be great! Thank you, Fr. Jeon,” you said, tilting your head and giving him one of your most charming smiles.
It was absurd.
After your finals, you were granted a two-month semestral break, and instead of using that time to party, travel with friends, or go on night outs, you had spent nearly all of it at the church.
Sana, unfortunately, never questioned your growing interest. She was too kind to question your faith.
Over the next few weeks, your afternoons were spent in the parish office, reading scripture, flipping through commentaries, and waiting for the familiar sound of the office door opening.
During those weeks, you managed to have a few small talks with him whenever he stopped by. You learned that he visited the church every day…sometimes to pray, sometimes to help with ongoing charity work, hear confessions, or simply check on the church office before moving on to his next responsibility.
Hearing about his schedule made you quietly adjust your own, ensuring you arrived at the office around 3 p.m.—the time he usually came in to check mails and paperwork at his office.
Today, you were wearing a baby blue dress that flowed nicely around your ankles, trimmed with delicate lace at the hem. Your hair was tied in a half ponytail with a blue ribbon, your makeup subtle, and your kitten heels matching the softness of your outfit.
Sana didn’t come with you every day anymore—she had other “holy” activities outside the church, like charity visits, helping at retreat houses, touring other churches, and even climbing mountains to visit shrines and statues.
You had politely declined most of those invitations, telling her you found comfort in staying within your church’s city.
Disingenuous.
The rhythm between you had become almost routine. You would come to the office in the afternoons, sit down with a bible, and quietly read while asking him occasional questions whenever something didn’t make sense.
Fr. Jeon would remain at his desk, either going through papers or reading his own scripture in silence. The room would stay mostly quiet, filled with the soft turning of pages and the steady presence of his focus, as if the world outside didn’t quite reach either of you in that space.
Sometimes you would try to steer the conversation a little further, testing small openings beyond scripture, but it always naturally circled back to the same things—bible passages, God, charity work, church matters… anything within that same unspoken boundary of the holy.
Yet, that alone felt like a privilege—being allowed into the quiet rhythm of his office, as if you belonged there too.
“Good day, Fr. Jeon. I brought some snacks for you,” you said with a smile as you entered the church’s office.
As usual, he was sitting at his desk, wearing his framed glasses while reading some papers.
You walked toward him and held up a small box of cookies you had gladly baked. “I made these…kind of like a thank-you gift for letting me stay here in the office,” you said proudly.
During your free time, you had spent the entire afternoon baking cookies for Fr. Jeon, thinking it would be a nice thank-you gift for him. At first, you had even wanted to decorate them with cute frosting faces of Jesus, convinced it would make you look extra devoted in his eyes.
Unfortunately, after staring at your frosting bag for ten minutes, you realized it might look a little too....performative.
So, with great reluctance, you abandoned your tiny Jesus-face cookie idea and settled for regular chocolate chip cookies instead.
The result sat neatly inside the box you now held out to him, carefully packed and decorated with far more effort than necessary.
Fr. Jeon looked at the cookies, his head tilting slightly when he noticed the box was covered in heart stickers. A soft smile formed on his lips, quietly touched by your kindness.
“That’s very kind of you, sweetheart.” he said softly, taking the box before looking up at you from his swivel chair. “Thank you, Y/N.”
Your cheeks flushed, making you feel like a schoolgirl finally noticed by your crush.
“No worries, Fr. Jeon… besides, I really like reading the bible here! it feels comforting,” you said, leaning in slightly as if to emphasize your point. “And thank you… you really help me understand it better when I get confused,” you added softly, fluttering your lashes at him.
He blinked slowly, clearly caught off guard by your sweet smile and the way you leaned in, his usual composure faltering for a brief moment as he paused.
“No...no problem sweetheart.” he said with a small smile. “I’m… glad you find comfort here. God will always find a way to comfort our souls.”
You smiled sheepishly and sat down on the small couch in front of his desk. “Hmm, I know…I always pray whenever I’m overwhelmed, somehow talking to God really helps me.” you said thoughtfully, even if you had only learned those kinds of phrases from Sana.
Fr. Jeon nodded quietly, he didn’t expect you to be this devoted.
You were very pure, kind, and charming. He had always noticed you volunteering at the church with your friend Sana—you would help with the boxes, sit around during her choir sessions, sometimes simply sit in the pew as if the presence of the church alone was enough for you.
It wasn’t hard to notice you. You were pretty and graceful, always smiling at everyone, carrying a soft, composed presence whenever he saw you at the church in your long skirts and modest blouses—like a quiet image of devotion itself.
Despite that, his eyes never lingered.
Always composed, always measured…because anything longer than a passing glance felt like something he shouldn’t allow himself.
Ever since you asked him about the bible that day, he had been quietly amazed. Nowadays, very few people showed genuine interest in scripture, let alone someone your age.
Seeing your devotion—or what he believed was devotion…filled him with a warmth he hadn't expected. It was rare to meet someone so eager to learn more about God.
What he didn't realize was that your sweet, holy little plan had been working all along.
And what you didn't realize was that your sweetness, your smiles, your carefully built innocence—had been working from the very beginning.
You were so focused on the fact that his eyes never lingered, so convinced that he remained untouched by your presence, that you failed to see the subtle effect you had already left behind.
“What do you do during your free time, Fr. Jeon?” you asked casually one friday afternoon, trying your best to sound merely curious rather than interested.
You had spent weeks keeping your questions safely within the boundaries of scripture. Careful not to reveal how badly you wanted to know the man behind the collar.
So you kept your tone light and innocent, as though it were nothing more than a harmless question that had happened to cross your mind.
Fr. Jeon's head tilted slightly. He was sitting across from you at the small coffee table inside his office, a bible resting in his hands just like yours.
“I visit charities,” he answered lightly. “I usually stay there for a while and spend time with the children.” a fond smile crossed his face at the memory.
Your lips parted. Oh! still religious.
“How about you, sweetheart?” Fr. Jeon asked.
You quickly searched for a suitably holy answer. “Umm, I-I sometimes climb mountains to visit shrines and blessed statues,” you said, biting your lip as you recalled one of Sana's favorite religious activities.
Fr. Jeon nodded thoughtfully, visibly impressed…his expression softening as if genuinely moved that you spent your free time in service of the Lord.
“What a good girl you are,” he said softly.
His eyes lifted to meet yours for a brief moment—just long enough to make your heart stumble…before he looked away first, a small smile forming on his lips that he quickly hid as he lowered his gaze back to the bible.
Your lips parted slightly, warmth rushing to your cheeks at the compliment.
Good girl. Oh to be called his good girl.
Even though Sana had been busy lately with her other holy activities, you didn't mind attending mass alone. In fact, you were more than happy sitting in the front row.
Your eyes would sparkle whenever Fr. Jeon spoke, your heart thumping whenever his gaze swept across the congregation and briefly met yours.
It always felt like a small victory, as though he was finally acknowledging you, finally noticing you.
“The Body of Christ.” Fr. Jeon held up the host.
“Amen,” you replied softly.
Unlike before, however, his gaze briefly lowered to meet yours. It lasted only a moment, accompanied by a small smile, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.
Enthralled.
Little by little, the distance between you seemed to shrink. The walls around him no longer felt quite as impenetrable as they once had.
Overtime, you had finally managed to crack through the edges of his usual reserve. What started as strictly scripture and charity talk had slowly, almost imperceptibly, begun to shift into something more personal.
You learned how he first became interested in the priesthood, how his mother had served in the church, and how deeply devoted his family was to their faith. You even found the courage to ask about his tattoos, discovering they came from his love for art long before he pursued theology.
In return, you had shared little pieces of yourself as well—your hobbies, your favorite things, your likes and dislikes. Of course, you were careful to sprinkle in a little extra holiness whenever you could, always eager to impress him and maintain the image he seemed to have of you.
Fr. Jeon enjoyed your presence. It was refreshing to converse with someone who seemed to share the same interest and devotion that he held so dearly.
As the weeks passed, he found himself quietly looking forward to your visits, anticipating the familiar sound of your voice drifting into his office each afternoon. After all, you had always been naturally playful and talkative, and somehow… your constant babbling had become a welcome part of his routine.
It had been a month since you started spending your afternoons in his office. Upon entering, you found him sitting at the coffee table instead of his desk. Scattered across the table were several small boxes in different colors.
Curious, you stepped inside, your usual box of homemade cookies in hand—the same kind you brought him every week.
“What’s that, Fr. Jeon?” you asked, taking a seat across from him and placing the cookies on the table.
Fr. Jeon looked up and smiled. “When's your birthday, sweetheart?”
You blinked, a question that was out of the blue—like you were on a date, and he was casually getting to know you.
Your cheeks immediately flushed, you told him your birth date, unable to hide the slight confusion in your voice.
Fr. Jeon nodded thoughtfully before reaching for one of the small boxes on the table.
There were twelve of them in total, each a different color. Pink, purple, green, blue, yellow, and several others.
“This would be your birthstone color then,” he said with a fond smile, handing you the box that matched your birth month.
Confused, you picked up the box and slowly opened it.
A small rosary bracelet rested inside.
Your heart began thumping so loudly you could hear it in your ears as you remembered the conversation from weeks ago…when he had gently corrected you and told you that rosaries weren't meant to be worn as necklaces.
“T-This is for me?” you asked, eyes wide and sparkling.
Fr. Jeon smiled softly. “Yes, sweetheart. I didn't know your birthday, so I bought all twelve colors,” he admitted with a small chuckle, glancing at the remaining boxes on the table.
It was such a simple gift, yet your heart fluttered stupidly in your chest. Somehow, this meant more than the flowers, chocolates, teddy bears, and expensive jewelry your admirers had given you before.
Before you could stop yourself, you rose from your seat and threw your arms around him.
Fr. Jeon froze in surprise, his eyes widened as you suddenly closed the distance between you. The force of the hug nearly made him lose his balance in the chair as your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.
“Thank you, Fr. Jeon...so sweet of you.” you murmured, overwhelmed with happiness.
He gulped harshly. It had been a long time since he had been touched by a woman.
Not accidentally in a crowded place. Not a polite handshake after mass. Not a brief greeting exchanged out of courtesy.
A long time.
His heart raced against his ribs as your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Your hot breath fanned softly against his collar, carrying the familiar scent of vanilla that had become impossible for him not to recognize. The closeness was overwhelming in a way he hadn't expected, making him painfully aware of how little physical affection existed in his life.
His hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before gripping the edge of the table instead. Every instinct told him to return the gesture, to place a comforting hand against your back and reassure you, but he remained still, forcing himself to hold onto his composure.
“You're welcome, sweetheart.” Fr. Jeon rasped, his voice coming out rougher than usual.
When you finally pulled away, you smiled brightly and sat back down in your chair, immediately slipping the bracelet onto your wrist.
Meanwhile, he remained frozen for a moment, trying to swallow away the lingering awareness of your closeness. The warmth of your embrace, your breath against his collar, the brief press of your breasts against him.
The hug had been innocent, sweet and harmless.
Which only made it worse.
Because he had no reason to be affected by it at all. He found himself quietly unsettled by the fact that he had needed to restrain himself in a moment that should have been nothing more than simple gratitude.
Temptation.
The next day, you proudly wore the rosary bracelet he had given you. You had even chosen a dress that matched its color, complete with a ribbon in your hair to tie everything together.
When you entered his office, you found Fr. Jeon standing by the bookshelves, a scripture in one hand. His glasses rested low on his nose as he read through a passage.
Immediately, you raised your wrist and showed off the bracelet. “Look,” you said with a grin.
Fr. Jeon glanced down, you were already twirling in place, eager to show him how the bracelet matched your dress.
Pretty.
The thought came so naturally that he frowned at himself.
“Good day, Y/N.” he replied, forcing his attention away from the observation.
You smiled brightly and wriggled your wrist. “I matched the bracelet with my dress and ribbon, see?”
Turning in a small circle again, you proudly showed off the entire outfit.
Fr. Jeon watched for a brief moment before lowering his gaze. Lately, he had become far too aware of things he shouldn't be noticing.
How pretty you looked whenever you walked into his office, how your face lit up whenever you talked to him, how easily your excitement filled the room.
Even your long dresses—soft fabric falling gently to your ankles, lace details tracing along the edges…began to feel distracting in a way he could not fully explain or justify.
Turning innocent things into distractions. The modesty that should have protected his thoughts was beginning to have the opposite effect, making him painfully aware of the woman hidden beneath layers of fabric and lace.
Perhaps it was because it had been so long since he had allowed himself to be this close to a woman. Years spent in seminaries, rectories, church offices, and ministry had made him accustomed to a life of distance and discipline. He had grown comfortable in it.
Until you.
“Glad you like it, sweetheart,” he said at last, forcing a small smile before returning his attention to the scripture in his hands.
It was easier to focus on the page than on the way you were still standing there, smiling at him as if he had just given you the greatest gift in the world.
You giggled and stepped a little closer. “You know, I didn’t remove the bracelet yet… I’m planning on wearing it forever.”
Fr. Jeon raised a brow at that, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
“Really?” he asked, unable to hide the delightfulness in his voice.
“Yes! I didn’t even remove it when I took a bath,” you giggled, smiling at him with pure adoration.
His brows furrowed slightly at what you had just said, but before he could stop himself, a faint flush crept across his cheeks.
Test of faith.
His mind betrayed him for a brief second, wandering toward the image of you showering while still wearing the bracelet he had given you, carefully keeping it on even then. The thought was so sudden and inappropriate that he immediately felt ashamed.
He gulped harshly, disappointed in himself. He would have to repent later and ask the Lord for forgiveness for allowing such a crude thought to cross his mind.
Fr. Jeon could not entertain that desire. It was forbidden, a temptation that needed to be buried and forgotten before it could take root.
Yet despite the turmoil quietly unfolding inside him, he weakly reached over and gently patted your head.
His heart immediately thumped against his ribs when your eyes lifted to meet his, shining with unmistakable adoration at the simple gesture.
You beamed at him...letting out a small, delighted giggle that softened the moment even further.
Craving.
The past few weeks had been exhausting. As the city's new presider, he had been buried beneath paperwork and responsibilities. The church had also been flooded with parishioners seeking confession, and the lines seemed to grow longer with each passing day.
Hundreds of voices had passed through the confessional since then, each carrying their own sins, burdens, and regrets. Most of them faded from memory the moment absolution was given.
Yours hadn't.
Fr. Jeon leaned back in his chair and stared at the crucifix hanging on the office wall. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the room.
He had spent years strengthening his faith, disciplining his mind, and dedicating himself entirely to the Lord. Yet lately, all it took was a sweet smile, an innocent touch, or the sound of your voice to shake that discipline.
Closing his eyes, he lowered his head.
"Lord, forgive me," he murmured quietly.
A threat to his devotion.
-
“Ouch, fuck,” you groaned, pulling the tray of cookies out of the oven.
You were baking a fresh batch for Fr. Jeon today, trying out a larger baking tray than usual so you could make more cookies at once. Unfortunately, the experiment immediately backfired.
As you bent down to take the tray out, the hot metal edge accidentally brushed against your inner thigh. You winced, pouting as you watched your skin slowly turn red.
“This looks so bad,” you murmured, setting the tray of cookies down on the counter.
Luckily, you had been wearing long skirts these days.
Prepping the boxes of cookies you had baked, you decided to wear a purple long lacey skirt paired with a cute ruffled top. Your hair was styled into low pigtail braids, each tied with a ribbon at the ends. Holding the box carefully, you frowned slightly when you felt the bandage rubbing against your swollen skin.
“Good day, Fr. Jeon, I got you cookies!” you beamed.
You noticed he had become even busier after being appointed as the city’s official presider, though you didn’t realize he had been deliberately drowning himself in paperwork—anything to keep his thoughts from drifting where they shouldn’t.
“Good day, Y/N,” he replied, glancing up for only a brief moment to return your smile before his attention went back to the documents in front of him.
You frowned slightly and placed the box of cookies on the table in front of him. “Got you a different flavor! It’s red velvet this time,” you said, pointing at the box with a small, proud smile.
Fr. Jeon glanced at them, warmth flickering in his chest before he quickly pushed it down.
“Thank you, Y/N… that’s very kind of you,” he said gently, his tone careful, as though he was trying to place distance even while accepting your kindness.
You pouted almost immediately. The response felt far too brief for someone who had spent the morning baking for him.
Wanting his attention back on you, you shifted your weight and played with the ends of your braid, searching for something that would pull his focus away from the paperwork on his desk.
“You know… I even got burned earlier because I used a bigger tray and it hit me,” you said with a small chuckle, watching him carefully for a reaction. “But it’s fine, I’m just worried it might leave a mark,” you added with a light giggle, unable to hide the hopeful note in your voice as you waited for him to look at you again.
That got his attention immediately.
His brows furrowed as he looked up from the papers, concern breaking through the careful distance he had been trying to maintain. His eyes instinctively moved to your hands, searching for any sign of injury.
“Where is it? Let me see,” Fr. Jeon said, the concern in his voice unmistakable. His gaze lingered on your fingers and wrists, unable to find the burn he was looking for.
You had to fight the smile threatening to appear.
Slowly, you made your way around the table until you were standing beside him. From his swivel chair, he tilted his head back to follow your movement, his attention still fixed on your hands.
“It’s not there, Fr. Jeon…” you said softly. “Here...”
A small giggle escaped you as you gently lifted the hem of your long skirt.
His eyes widened instantly, panic flashing across his face before he could hide it. Before you could lift your skirt any higher, his hand shot forward on instinct, wrapping around your wrist to stop you.
“W-What are you doing?” he asked, nearly choking on the words.
The reaction was immediate, almost alarmed, as though the sight of you standing there with your hands on your skirt had caught him completely off guard. His grip wasn't harsh, but it was firm enough to halt your movement, his composure visibly rattled.
“I burned my thighs, Fr. Jeon… see?” you said innocently, lifting the fabric just enough to reveal the bandage wrapped beneath.
His lips parted at the sight, momentarily stunned.
The bandage sat against your soft thighs, the realization of how close he was to something so private making his mind go blank for a second.
He had never seen so much of you like this before—not this close, not this exposed in such an unguarded, unexpected way.
Your thighs looked so soft, pink and smooth… faintly marked by the redness around the bandage, drawing attention to how tightly you had wrapped it.
“It hurts a little,” you pouted, pointing at it.
His throat tightened as he swallowed hard, his gaze immediately faltering. Behind his glasses…his pupils were dilated, his ears and neck flushing red. His hands gripped the sides of his swivel chair tightly, as though grounding himself in place.
“Y-You wrapped it wrong,” he managed to say at last, his voice strained. He cleared his throat and forced his attention elsewhere, brows furrowing as he tried to recover his composure.
You tilted your head. “I did?” you looked down, trying to check your bandage when he suddenly stood up.
“I-I have a first aid kit in my cabinet. Sit in my swivel chair...I-I’ll wrap it for you,” he said quickly, already turning away from you as if creating distance would steady him. Without waiting for another reaction, he walked toward the cabinet near the bookshelves.
You bit your lip. “Okay…”
You obediently sat down in his swivel chair, a small, satisfied feeling flickering in your chest when you noticed how concerned…and slightly flustered—he seemed.
When he returned, he was holding a small first aid kit. Your breath caught slightly when he suddenly knelt in front of you.
“L-Lift your skirt, please.” he said, his tone firm but strained, his brows drawn together as he deliberately avoided looking too directly while waiting for you to comply.
Your heart stammered, green thoughts flowing inside your filthy brain.
With shaky, anticipatory hands, you lifted your skirt up to your inner thighs, purposefully raising it a little higher than necessary.
When he looked at your exposed thighs, his breath hitched. He tried to remain as calm as possible, forcing himself to focus. Slowly, he reached for the bandage, almost flinching when he felt the softness of your skin beneath the rough pad of his fingers.
“It’s too tight,” he said breathily, his hands trembling as he unwrapped the bandage from your thigh.
“Is it?” you said softly, watching the way his lips were slightly parted, his expression focused and controlled.
When the burn was finally exposed, his brows furrowed. “You should be more careful, Y/N.” he said quietly.
He took a small tube of ointment from the kit, applying a bit to his index finger before carefully spreading it over the burn.
You winced slightly at the contact, while his attention remained fixed and steady as he worked.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice lower than usual as he briefly checked your reaction before focusing back on the injury.
You bit your lip. “J-Just a little bit.”
He sighed harshly at that, gently rubbing the ointment in with steady movements, though you could see beads of sweat slowly forming on his forehead.
“Just a little more,” he murmured almost under his breath, applying another layer of ointment. His control was thinner now, each movement more deliberate than the last, as if he was carefully holding himself together.
When he took the new bandage, he wrapped it carefully around your burn with precise, practiced hands. Once he was done, he immediately adjusted your skirt, smoothing it down with controlled efficiency…perhaps a little too quickly, as though creating distance from the moment itself.
When he stood up, you could see it more clearly now: the restraint in his posture, the tension in his jaw, the way his composure wasn’t as effortless as before. He looked like he was actively holding himself back from something, grounding himself before it showed too much.
“Thank you,” you said warmly, smiling up at him.
He looked down at you, tilting his head slightly at how innocent you appeared with your ribbons and braids.
Forbidden.
That night, Fr. Jeon fell into the forbidden temptation he had been trying so hard to resist.
It was ten o’clock, yet he remained inside the church office, refusing to leave the premises until his mind and soul were free of guilt.
Frustrated, he buried himself in scripture, but his thoughts kept drifting back to your soft, beautiful thighs and the rosary bracelet on your wrist that had stirred such sinful thoughts within him.
“Forgive me,” he muttered under his breath, his tattooed hand sliding down his slacks to palm his hardening cock.
His lips parted. It had been a very long time since he had touched himself...he had almost forgotten how good it felt. With a shaky breath, he slowly stroked his growing erection, murmuring apologies and curses beneath his breath.
He nearly rolled his eyes back at the sensation. It felt far too good. His cock hardened with alarming ease at the mere thought of you.
Lust.
With trembling hands, he slowly pulled his cock free from his slacks. It was thick and pulsing, a bead of precum already forming at the swollen tip.
When his tattooed hand squeezed the base, more fluid gathered at the head, coating his throbbing shaft.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered under his breath, a groan escaping him as he rediscovered how good it felt to touch himself after so long.
It was sinful. Dirty.
He was still inside the church office, dressed in his usual black clerical shirt with its roman collar. Scripture lay open on his desk, and his glasses had begun to fog from the heat of his breath.
It had been years. He could no longer remember the last time he had touched a woman, nor the last time he had thought of one this way. When he devoted himself to the Lord, he had promised never to indulge in such acts again.
The longer he had restrained himself, the better it felt to finally release that tension after so many years. His cock almost ached. Thick and veiny, it twitched whenever he rolled the foreskin down.
“God, help me.” Fr. Jeon moaned shamelessly, jerking himself in slow, deliberate strokes, determined to savor every second of it.
He gathered spit in his mouth and let it trickle down his aching shaft. The added lubrication drew a groan from him. He bit down hard on his lip as the realization struck him once more—how good this felt, how much he had missed touching himself.
His thoughts drifted to you.
He imagined your sweet confession about still wearing the rosary bracelet he had given you... even while bathing. The thought lingered longer than it should have, unfurling in his mind as he pictured your small, delicate hands gliding a bar of soap across your soft skin. The rosary would brush against your chest with every movement, the beads shifting and sliding as you washed your nipples.
And then his thoughts wandered further, painting one image after another—your inner thighs, the way the beads might accidentally graze your soft skin as you shower. Each vision arrived unbidden, more vivid than the last, and far more difficult to suppress.
A sacred desire.
He was leaking more and more with every thought of you. The only sound echoing through the office was the wet rhythm of his hand jerking along his hard leaking cock.
Curious, he gathered a bead of precum between his thumb and index finger and brought it to his lips. The taste was salty, thick, and strangely addicting.
“Oh, God,” he groaned, collecting more of it only to taste himself again.
Your forbidden thighs.
The softness of them. The way he had been close enough to imagine burying himself in their warmth. The way they flushed pink beneath his touch. The way they looked so plump and beautiful, tempting thoughts he should never have entertained.
He imagined pressing kisses along your legs, lingering there as though each touch were an act of devotion. He imagined how soft your pussy would feel beneath his lips, how he would part your folds just to stare at your glistening cunt, worshipping it with the reverence of a prayer.
Fr. Jeon was close to climaxing, using memories of your past interactions to fuel his sinful fantasies. His hand was slick with saliva and precum, his thighs tensing as he struggled to hold himself back. He tried to edge himself, to prolong the moment, because the sensation felt far too good after so many years of restraint.
Your body. Even beneath your long dresses and modest blouses, he could tell you were beautiful.
It shamed him that it had been one of the first things he noticed when he saw you wearing that rosary. The way your chest filled out your modest clothing. The way your waist appeared so delicate beneath layers of fabric. The way he found himself wondering what was hidden beneath all that lace and decency.
It was a sin he was terrified to acknowledge. A sin he was terrified to put into words.
But you were beautiful, kind, gentle, and devoted in your faith.
He wanted to fuck you.
When the shameful thought finally broke free from the restraints he had placed upon it, he came hard, his release staining the dark fabric of his slacks.
A deep groan tore from his throat as he continued to stroke himself, milking every last wave of pleasure from his body. His thumb brushed along the underside of his cock, chasing the lingering sensitivity.
“Fuck, I’m still hard,” he muttered, biting his lower lip as he glanced down at himself.
It was understandable.
After years of abstinence, it wasn't surprising that his body responded so eagerly. The restraint he had maintained for so long seemed to have shattered all at once.
Yearning.
All night, instead of losing himself in scripture, he gave in to temptation. His hand jerked shamelessly over his cock as his thoughts returned to you again and again. To every forbidden desire he had tried to suppress. To every impulse he had buried beneath prayer, discipline, and devotion.
Hours passed unnoticed.
He had so much pent-up desire, so much neglected hunger, that he remained awake until dawn, caught in an endless cycle of pleasure in jerking his insatiable cock. The office grew quiet around him while the darkness slowly gave way to morning light, yet his thoughts never strayed far from your face, your kindness, and the feelings he had spent so long denying.
And the fantasies that filled his mind were so sinful that he feared they had carried him beyond forgiveness.
“This should do it,” you giggled to yourself, wrapping the bandage poorly on purpose so he would have an excuse to fix it for you again.
Your box of cookies was already prepared, resting neatly on your lap while you held a bible in your hands and waited for Fr. Jeon.
Unfortunately, hours passed with nothing but the sound of turning pages accompanying you. You flipped through scripture after scripture, occasionally glancing toward the door, expecting him to appear at any moment.
Yet he never came.
Confused, you eventually stepped out of the office to look for him yourself. Perhaps he was outside helping with the donations or speaking with parishioners, as he often did. But after wandering around the church grounds and checking every place you could think of, you still couldn't find him anywhere.
“Where is he?” you pouted to yourself, a disappointed sigh slipping past your lips as you made your way back to his office.
By the time you returned, the warm glow of sunset had already begun spilling through the stained-glass windows.
Realizing he wasn't coming, you reluctantly decided to leave the cookies behind along with a small handwritten note. The thought alone made your chest feel strangely heavy.
“I miss him already,” you murmured, frowning at your own words.
It wasn't as if you could simply call or text him. Despite spending weeks at the church, Fr. Jeon had never given you his number, and you had never found the courage to ask for it. Perhaps it was because you preferred seeing him in person.
The idea of receiving his answers through a text message whenever you had questions about scripture felt disappointing somehow. You liked sitting across from him, listening to his voice as he patiently explained things to you. You liked the little smiles he gave you, the way his attention never seemed rushed, and the comfort that came with simply being around him.
That day left you unusually sad. It was the first time you hadn't seen him at all. Even when he was busy, he always managed to stop by, if only for a minute. No matter how much work he had, he never missed the opportunity to check on you.
Avoidance.
You came back today...hopeful that you would finally see him again and finally ask where he had been yesterday, you were instead met with confusion when he didn’t appear again. You pouted when you noticed the box of cookies you had left behind was still untouched, exactly where you had placed it.
“That’s odd, he can’t miss a bible reading,” you murmured to yourself, already accustomed to his usual routine. He always visited the church at a certain time to pray quietly and read scripture before continuing his day, and you had grown used to waiting for him during those moments.
But days passed, and he was still nowhere to be seen.
The cookies you had prepared for him began to lose their freshness, and the papers he usually kept neatly on his desk started to gather dust. A strange sense of unease settled in your chest as you tried to understand what had changed.
You asked around the church, speaking to parishioners and volunteers, hoping someone might have seen him or could explain where he had gone. But what you learned nearly broke your heart.
He was still coming to the church every day. He just arrived earlier now.
You had always known his schedule well—he used to visit his office around three in the afternoon, which was why you were always there waiting at that time. You never thought he would suddenly change it without warning.
“T-Thank you,” you managed to say, forcing a small smile when one of the parishioners finally informed you that he had been seeing Fr. Jeon every morning. You were lucky this particular parishioner stayed at the church throughout the day, otherwise you might never have learned the truth.
Still, the information left you disappointed and strangely hurt.
The fact that he was visiting every day but never acknowledged your cookies. The fact that he never even left a note to explain. The fact that you had been waiting for him all this time, dressed in your usual modest dresses, as if your presence alone meant anything to him.
Tears slowly began to gather in your eyes for reasons you couldn’t fully understand. It felt almost like being rejected without a single word, like a quiet heartbreak you hadn’t been prepared for. It seemed as though he was suddenly avoiding you.
“What did I do?” you pouted softly to yourself, walking home with slumped shoulders as you tried to wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks.
On the way, your thoughts turned over your last interaction with him. Had you been too bold? Had he noticed something in you that you thought you had hidden well? Had he finally realized that your devotion wasn’t as pure as it appeared?
The more you thought about it, the more desperate you became to see him again. And instead of wanting to reveal your true ill intentions, you found yourself wishing the opposite—that he would see how devoted you were, how deeply you admired him, how willingly you would sacrifice your dignity just to remain close to him.
Restraint.
You didn’t know that he had been avoiding you all along, because your sick plan had finally taken effect, his careful restraint crumbling like a rock under pressure.
Fr. Jeon couldn’t bring himself to face you. Even the slightest eye contact felt like it would burn through his skin, your presence alone eating away at whatever remained of his guilt until there was nothing left but discomfort and temptation.
Desperate.
You woke up early that day, preparing yourself carefully so you could see him. The constant overthinking had become unbearable, and you were convinced that seeing him would finally calm your thoughts.
Slowly, you walked through the church halls, your kitten heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Your wandering gaze passed over parishioners and silent figures lost in prayer, the morning air gentle and warm as it settled over your chaotic mind. The scent of the church—fresh flowers and holy water—was oddly soothing as you moved deeper inside.
But as you went further in, you nearly lost your balance when you noticed his office door slightly ajar.
Your heart began to pound in anticipation as you carefully approached. And when you finally looked inside, your eyes widened.
There he was.
In his usual black clerical long-sleeved shirt and roman collar, Fr. Jeon stood looking down at the box of cookies you had left a week ago.
Your heart sank at the realization that he must have seen the box of cookies days ago—and still chose to ignore it.
Taking a steadying breath, you stepped inside and gently closed the door behind you, locking it without hesitation.
“Fr. Jeon,” you said softly.
He looked up immediately, his eyes widening as though he had seen something he shouldn’t have. For a brief moment, he looked almost like he had seen a ghost. His entire body stiffened, tension tightening in his posture as he forced himself upright.
“What are you doing here?” His tone came out sharper than intended, almost accusatory, as he tried to regain control of himself by straightening his clerical collar and adjusting the bridge of his glasses.
You frowned at the reaction, slowly taking a step closer. Something in your chest cracked when you noticed how his expression shifted with each movement you made—his brows tightening, his gaze dropping as if he couldn’t bear to hold it steady on you for too long.
“You didn’t get the cookies I got you,” you said with a small pout, glancing between the box and him as if the answer should have been obvious.
Fr. Jeon bit his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment, as though needing time to steady himself.
“I was… busy,” he said, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard. He almost stepped back when you moved closer.
You tilted your head at him. “Am I taking too much of your time, Father?” you asked softly, your voice carrying a sad little pout.
Patience.
Fr. Jeon exhaled slowly and heavily, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as if trying to ground himself. Your presence alone seemed to shut down every carefully built wall he had been maintaining.
He looked down at your sad pout, and something in him nearly cracked at the sight of your sadness. For a moment, his composure faltered as fantasies surged back in, uninvited and overwhelming.
For the past few days, he had been deliberately avoiding you. He had started arriving at the church earlier, knowing you always came in the afternoon, carefully timing his routines so he would not run into you. He avoided his office as well, because every corner of it reminded him of you.
But this morning, he had come in anyway.
And the first thing he saw was the box of cookies you had left behind… along with a small note that said you missed him.
Desire.
For the past few nights, he had been jerking his cock non-stop. Ever since that first time, he couldn’t shake the feeling, couldn’t resist the urge to return to it again and again—groaning your name under his breath like a sacred prayer.
“No, sweetheart… I’m just—”
“I’m sorry… I just really like it here, and I love talking to you,” you said in a soft tone, stepping closer until he could smell your vanilla perfume, your pleading eyes pulling him deeper into your orbit.
Fr. Jeon swallowed harshly, his pulse quickening at how sweet and beautiful you looked for him.
“Sweetheart—”
“Would you like me to leave?” you asked quietly, biting your lower lip.
His eyes dropped to your lips. His hands curled into fists, every passing second testing his hard-earned faith and devotion.
But no...he would rather endure the torment alone, rather than risk touching your beautiful, tempting soul.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you much of my time right now. I’ve been really busy—” Fr. Jeon said with finality.
Suddenly, you rose onto your tiptoes to meet his height and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
“It’s okay, Father… I understand,” you whispered, your lips lingering dangerously close to his.
Succumbed.
Before you could pull away, his hands slid to your waist, steadying you—holding you in place more firmly than expected. You were about to look at him in confusion when he suddenly crashed his lips into yours.
Your eyes widened, your body nearly falling backward, but he held you firmly in place. His kiss was harsh and desperate—like a man starved, and you were the only water in a burning desert.
His tongue forced its way into your mouth, and the sound of his low groan sent shivers down your spine.
His brows were furrowed tightly, every bit of pent-up frustration spilling into the kiss. It was rough, consuming—his control slipping as he pulled you deeper into it, saliva beginning to spill messily between your mouths from how intensely he claimed your lips.
When he finally pulled away, his pupils were blown wide. His lips were red and swollen, his chin damp with both of your saliva.
He released your waist almost instantly, as though you had burned him.
Swallowing hard, he stared down at your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.
Oh God. What had he done?
“W-What—” you stammered, bewildered, still in shock at how easily Fr. Jeon—a priest with such a good reputation….had fallen into your lips like a man undone by weakness and lust.
Surrendered.
When you saw him step back, his brows furrowing as if he had just realized what he had done, you immediately grabbed his arms.
“I—I’m sorry, this is blasphemous, I—”
You pulled him back and kissed him again, softer this time. “I like you, Fr. Jeon. Please don’t avoid me,” you almost pleaded, tugging him down so you could reach his lips again.
His eyes widened. He shook his head immediately. “Y/N, n-no… this is wrong,” he blurted weakly, trying to grab your wrists as you pulled him closer.
Hearing those words from your mouth struck something deep in him, shaking his resolve. He couldn’t fall for you, he couldn’t kiss you, he couldn’t touch you...he couldn’t even think about you.
The only solution was to stay away—to pretend none of this had ever happened.
You shook your head. “Please, I want you so badly… there’s nothing wrong with this,” you insisted, trying to kiss him again, but he turned away. His eyes were heavy-lidded, weakened, the air in the office suddenly suffocating.
“You make me happy, Fr. Jeon… please,” you pleaded.
He shook his head firmly. “I am a priest, Y/N. This is forbidden,” he said weakly, his voice low and rough—like every word cost him something, like it was painful to say.
“But...why did you kiss me?” you pleaded.
Fr. Jeon groaned under his breath, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“Do you like me too, Fr. Jeon?” you pushed further, stepping closer, watching how much it seemed to strain him.
“Y/N, this is wrong—”
Your lips parted. “You...you like me,” you concluded when he didn’t deny it.
A small smile formed on your lips at the confirmation. Suddenly, the past few weeks made sense—the distance, the avoidance, the restraint. Everything clicked into place.
When he weakly let go of your wrists, you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, as if he had finally surrendered to you. His lips parted, his eyes clouded and hazy.
“Since when, Father?” you whispered, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
He shut his eyes tightly. The feeling of your hands on him was already enough to send him spiraling. His lack of physical affection was becoming obvious in the way his body reacted—his restraint slipping under something as simple as your soft, shallow touch.
“The first time I saw you at the church,” he whispered so low you almost didn’t catch it, as though even admitting it was a sin.
You gasped, your eyes widening at the revelation that he had noticed you from the very beginning.
“I-I thought… you didn’t recognize me. Y-You were always so busy and—”
“I did,” he cut in softly, his voice rough. “But it’s impure of me to stare at such beauty. I cannot do that.”
His gaze dropped to your lips again, weak and conflicted.
You gasped, a fond grin forming on your beautiful face. “Indeed, that’s very impure of you…Father,” you giggled.
Fr. Jeon groaned, attempting to step back again, but this time you pulled him closer and kissed him without hesitation. When you tried to part his lips with yours, you felt him shake his head, his hands gripping your waist to hold you back.
“N-No… we can’t—”
“Shh... it’s okay, Father… we’ll keep this a secret,” you whispered like a little devil in disguise, your pouty lips brushing against his again. “No one will know…”
Fr. Jeon groaned, your words sending shivers down his spine. The tension between restraint and desire tightened further.
“No, sweetheart, this is wrong… we should—”
“Please, Father…I’m already so wet.” you mumbled softly, looking at him with pleading eyes.
His eyes widened. It had been a long time since he had heard such crude words—especially coming from a pretty mouth like yours.
“T-That’s—” he stammered, his composure slipping further under the weight of you.
“Unholy?” you giggled, taking his right hand and guiding it beneath your long skirt.
His lips parted when his fingers brushed against the wet fabric of your underwear. His cheeks and ears burned red at the realization of how aroused you were.
You bit your lip, rising onto your tiptoes to whisper against his ear.
“No one will know.” you dragged your tongue along the shell of it, smiling when you heard him let out a soft, broken sound.
Blasphemous.
His lips grazed your inner thighs as his once devout, God-bound gaze now fixed on your bare, wet pussy. He knelt before you like you were some immaculate saint.
“Y-You’re so beautiful,” he said breathlessly, his fingers parting your folds and gently pulling back your hood to expose your sensitive clit.
You gasped loudly when he spat onto your center, his soft lips immediately wrapping around your clit, sucking in both his saliva and your wetness.
“Oh, God,” you moaned.
Fr. Jeon looked almost sacred between your thighs. Your skirt was bunched at your waist just enough for him to fully indulge in your pussy, while his black clerical shirt began to stain from how much you were dripping onto him. His glasses had grown slightly fogged from the heat of his breath against your body and the warmth between your legs.
He ate your pussy like a starving man, unable to get enough. His tongue pushed inside your tight cunt in search of more, drawing more juices from you, while the obscene sounds of his mouth filled the room. His throat worked with every swallow, adam’s apple bobbing as he greedily took in every drop you gave him.
“You taste so good,” he mumbled between your thighs, the vibration of his voice sending pleasure straight to your core.
You bit your lip, giggling softly while trying to keep your balance—you were leaning against his desk.
“Do you like how wet it is?” you asked, looking down at him as if amused by how much he was enjoying himself.
Fr. Jeon nodded against your cunt. “So wet and pretty,” he mumbled, sucking your clit until his cheeks hollowed, his dimples showing each time he latched on harder.
The way he ate you out was wet and messy, continuously spitting as his lips stayed locked around your clit. You gasped when he pinched your folds together, trying to eat your entire pussy into his warm mouth.
Every time you squirmed, he tightened his grip on your thighs, groaning under his breath as if he wanted to drown himself in you completely.
Whenever he pulled back to breathe, he took a moment to stare at your swollen, messy cunt—admiring it like something sacred, something almost holy in its beauty. He whispered how ethereal it was before spitting on it again and diving back in hungrily.
“H-How come you’re so good at that?” you moaned, looking down at his mouth as he remained relentless, your juices dripping down his chin.
Fr. Jeon looked up at you, adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I’ve fantasized about this,” he said with a smile. “I imagine devouring your cunt while I jerk off my cock.”
He pressed a light kiss to the top of your clit before burying his face against you again.
Your eyes rolled back at the confession, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Hmm... really? That’s ungodly, Father.”
Fr. Jeon only groaned, pressing his face deeper until you were certain he could barely breathe. “I’m only willing to surrender myself to you.”
You gasped. The way he said it felt so wrong, so forbidden, and your pussy throbbed at the thought of him willingly committing such sinful acts, of him literally being on his knees for you.
When he felt your wetness growing, he lifted his head slightly to look at your cunt. Using his index and middle finger, he spread you open, watching as more of your milky-white juices gathered.
Fr. Jeon groaned, swallowing hard at the sight of how wet and horny you had become.
“You like that, sweetheart?”
He gathered your juices, the pads of his fingers sliding down your slit and making you flinch. Your breath caught when you watched him scoop your cum onto his fingers and bring them to his mouth, tasting your sweetness. "You got so much wetter."
“Fr. Jeon, oh my—”
He continued gathering the excess wetness, scooping up your cum until he was satisfied that you were no longer dripping. His brows furrowed as he sucked the collected juices from his fingers, unwilling to let any of it go to waste.
When he finally gathered the last drop, you frowned as he rose to his feet.
For a moment, you thought he was done. Then he brought his fingers, coated with your cum, up to your mouth.
“Open up, sweetheart.” he whispered, his gaze lowering to your lips, swollen from how hard you had been biting them.
You slowly opened your mouth, moaning when he slid his fingers inside so you could taste your own juices mixed with traces of his saliva.
“You taste like sin, don’t you?” he said softly, his fingers twirling inside your mouth, nearly making you gag.
You sucked on his fingers, your cheeks hollowing eagerly as you looked up at him with expectant eyes. “Mhm. I want to taste how pure you are, then,” you said softly, sucking his fingers the way you imagined sucking his cock.
His cock twitched inside his slacks, precum already gathering at the swollen tip.
He immediately shook his head. “Want to make you cum first, sweetheart.”
Before you could protest, he was already kneeling again, his tongue out as he buried his face between your thighs as though his life depended on it. His nose brushed against your swollen clit while his tongue alternated between slow, deliberate licks and eager suction, determined to draw every reaction from you.
The moment he sensed you were getting close, he pushed his tongue deeper, determined to suck every drop. You were about to push him away from the sudden wave of oversensitivity, but his grip on you tightened.
"I wanna swallow it, please."
You bit down hard on your lip, whispering curses beneath your breath as your body tensed. Your pussy pulsed uncontrollably, heat rushing through you as release overtook your senses.
He groaned at the way your body responded to him, your pussy throbbing vigorously against his tongue.
“I-I want to pleasure you too,” you almost cried.
He didn't stop eating you, even after you came he was sucking your pussy again. He had already made you cum several times just by eating you out. Even after your fifth orgasm, he still hadn’t stopped—still devouring you, drawing out every last drop before spitting it back down onto your slit, pulling your folds apart just to watch it drip, then catching it again with his tongue as if he couldn’t get enough.
You were already overstimulated, your thighs burning from his tight grip, but every time you looked down at him, another wave of arousal surged through you. His brows were furrowed, his eyes closed, almost as if he were praying.
“Please, I want to eat your pussy more.” he mumbled, looking up at you through his glasses, his tongue teasing slow circles around your very swollen clit.
It had been hours. His knees were already red from kneeling, and your back ached from leaning against his desk, yet he still had the stamina to continue, again and again. His cheeks and chin were slick from your cum.
You could see his slacks straining…his arousal obvious beneath the fabric—but he remained focused, almost pleading when you tried to push him away, his mouth still following your spent pussy as if he couldn’t let go.
“Please… one more, sweetheart,” he begged, his thumb soothing along your inner thighs.
When you shyly nodded, he parted your legs further, scooping up what remained of your release as it dripped down. His face pressed in close, his nose brushing against you as he worked, the carpet below you already damp with a mixture of saliva and your arousal.
Unholy.
The once-simple afternoon bible sessions had turned into something far more profane.
The moment you arrived at his office and locked the door behind you, his hands were immediately around you. He would drop to his knees, pushing your panties aside so he could press his face against your wet slit, sniffing your cunt before his tongue slipped out to taste your wetness.
“Hmm… do you like my pussy, Fr. Jeon?” you whispered, fingers tangling in his hair as he indulged you.
He groaned against you, burying his face deeper. “Like it so much.”
He was always so desperate—needy, almost whiny. It was obvious how deeply his years of abstinence had affected him, how long he had denied himself even the thought of such intimacy.
Every touch carried the weight of that restraint, as though all those years of self-denial had finally found an outlet. The way he ate your pussy for hours without stopping, the way he would suck your breasts until they turned swollen and red.
Every time you tried to touch him, he would pin your hands down instead. You had never really touched him yet—he always insisted on giving first, on worshipping you instead. He would say that pleasing you was enough,that eating your cum was enough for him, that devoting himself to your body was what satisfied him most.
“Shh, sweetheart… please be quiet.” he pleaded, his middle and index finger pushing inside your cunt, knuckles deep while massaging your spongy spot.
You were certain his fingers were already wrinkled from how long he had been fingering you, your nipples swollen and sensitive from how harshly he had been sucking them while rubbing your clit.
You bit your lip, tears almost forming in your eyes from how good it felt. “S-sorry, it’s just so good,” you mumbled incoherently.
Fr. Jeon groaned. “Yeah?” He spat down where his fingers met your pussy. “Hear that, sweetheart? You’re so wet for me.” he muttered, biting your nipple harshly while his fingers continued going in and out of your wet cunt, the sounds echoing inside the church office.
You were always a whining mess. Even if he hadn’t fucked you yet, your body was constantly left exhausted from how intensely he made you cum repeatedly. Your legs were always wobbly and shaking after each round, and you would always come home with new hickeys and bruises left by his harsh mouth.
He had the stamina to go on for hours and hours, until the entire afternoon was filled with nothing but wet sounds and your filthy moans echoing through his office.
You wanted to return the pleasure so badly, but every time he begged you to eat your pussy, your knees would go weak. You always gave him what he wanted, opening your legs and spreading your cunt for him.
It was one afternoon when you decided that you wanted to please him.
He was busy sucking on your nipples when you noticed how hard he was beneath his slacks. Your eyes rolling back when you saw him almost humping the air.
With a determined groan, you gently pushed him away from you. Your nipples were already pink and swollen.
“Let me taste you,” you pleaded, pressing a kiss to his cheek before trailing down his jaw.
He protested again, trying to guide you back against the couch.
“Sweetheart—”
“Please, Father.” you begged. “You always make me cum so good. I think I’d cum even harder if I got to taste your cock.”
You couldn’t deny that he always left you more than satisfied, constantly pushing you to the edge of overstimulation. Every time it happened, you could see just how hard his cock was. Sometimes, you would even catch the subtle movements of his hips while he was buried between your thighs, completely consumed by pleasuring you.
Fr. Jeon licked his lower lip, as though contemplating whether he could truly accept the idea of you being on your knees for him. It felt like too much to bear, as if he wasn’t ready for it yet. Shamefully, he was certain he would cum the moment your lips touched his tip.
But seeing you like this—begging, your lips drawn into a sweet pout—made his resolve weaken. His eyes fluttered shut helplessly as you eagerly knelt in front of him.
“Sweetheart,” he rasped, swallowing hard.
You looked up at him before slowly leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against the bulge beneath his slacks.
A harsh groan escaped him. His cock throbbed beneath the fabric, and that simple, innocent kiss was almost enough to make him stumble.
When you pulled down his zipper, you gasped audibly at the sight of his black boxers, already soaked with a large patch of wetness from his precum.
“You’re leaking, Father,” you said with a pout, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.
He sucked in a breath, his hands curling into fists as he struggled to compose himself. You looked beautiful and completely undignified at the same time, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to resist.
Slowly, you tugged down his boxers...just enough to tuck his balls and free his hard cock.
Your eyes widened.
He was huge and pretty, twitching on his own and curving upward. Thick veins ran along his shaft, and his swollen pink tip glistened with precum.
You licked your lower lip, unable to hide your anticipation at the sight of him. Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss to the wet tip.
A strained whimper escaped him.
His hands immediately grabbed the sides of his clerical shirt, as though physically restraining himself from losing control over something as simple as your lips touching him.
“Look at me when I suck you, Fr. Jeon.” you said, raising a brow when you noticed him avoiding eye contact.
He bit his lower lip, trying to look down at you.
You gasped when his cock twitched the moment you made eye contact.
With a teasing look, you slowly sucked his mushroom tip while keeping your eyes on him, fluttering your lashes as you took him into your warm mouth.
He groaned harshly. He was about to close his eyes, but you shook your head immediately.
“Eyes on me, please.”
“Oh, God,” he whimpered, looking down at you through heavy-lidded eyes as you eagerly sucked his leaking tip.
You swirled your tongue along the underside of his cock, his eyes rolling back every time you repeated the motion. When you finally pulled away, you spat on the tip, your fingers immediately spreading your saliva and his precum along the shaft, leaving him even wetter and messier.
“Do you like how I kneel for you?” you asked before taking his tip into your mouth again, trying to take him deeper until his mushroom head brushed the back of your throat. The upward curve of his cock dragged against the roof of your mouth, drawing another whimper from him.
“Y-You look like a slut,” he blurted out through a moan, his jaw repeatedly tensing, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was fisting his shirt.
You looked up at him and nodded obediently...like a good girl seeking praise.
He bit his lower lip. “My pretty slut.”
Fr. Jeon was trying so hard not to come. He wanted to savor the feeling of your tight mouth around him for as long as possible, wanted to hold on to it, to prolong it, but you were simply too much..too pretty, too warm. Every time you took him deeper, his resolve weakened a little more.
Your eyes were already beginning to redden, your throat struggling to accommodate his thickness. Drool slipped messily down your chin, and the wet, obscene sounds coming from your mouth only pushed him closer to the edge. Each swallow, each desperate attempt to take more of him, made his chest tighten with pleasure, his restraint slipping further and further away.
Whenever you pulled back to catch your breath, you would stroke his cock quickly with your hands and spit messily onto his tip.
Before the saliva could slide down his length, you would take him back into your mouth, licking along his shaft and tracing the prominent veins with your tongue before returning to the swollen underside of his head with soft, teasing kitten licks.
Using your free hand, you reached up to cup his balls gently, applying just enough pressure to make him whimper. The movement only made it harder for him to hold himself together, especially as you continued gagging on his cock like a good little slut.
The moment you noticed him clutching his shirt again, you immediately grabbed his hand.
“Use my mouth, Father,” you whispered, guiding his hand to your hair, silently urging him to take control.
Fr. Jeon groaned and shook his head, but your eagerness never wavered. You paused, waiting patiently for him, your eyes fixed on his face.
The moment you placed your hands obediently behind your back, he nearly cursed the Lord himself.
He weakly dragged a hand through your hair, gathering it away from your face before pulling you a little closer. His jaw tightened as he looked down at you, every ounce of restraint tested by the sight of your quiet obedience.
Grabbing your hair with both hands, he guided your face toward him before finally rolling his hips, slowly thrusting into your waiting mouth.
“God, you really are a slut,” he moaned, his composure unraveling a little more with every passing second.
Whenever he pulled back, you would twirl your tongue around the underside of his crown, earning a shaky whimper from him. Then, he would push you down forcefully onto his cock, your nose hitting his pubic hair as he lost whatever restraint he had left.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, sweetheart,” he whimpered.
Your mouth was already growing tired, but you remained determined, refusing to pull away. Tears gathered in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks as you struggled to keep up with him, yet you stayed exactly where he wanted you.
When he saw the tears in your eyes, he almost stopped.
But you eagerly took him deeper, deliberately pushing forward until your face was pressed flush against his pubic hair. Your mouth struggled to accommodate his thickness, soft gargling sounds escaping despite your efforts to suppress them, yet you took everything he gave you.
“God, fuck.” his eyes rolled back as he released hot, thick cum into your mouth.
He was about to push you away when your hands tightened around the backs of his thighs, holding him firmly in place...determined not to let a single drop of his cum go to waste.
“Sweetheart,” he said weakly.
When you finally pulled away- his cock slipping from your lips, you stuck out your tongue to show him his thick, milky cum. Your lashes fluttered as you held his gaze for a moment, letting him take in the sight before you swallowed.
Delirious.
“The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Fr. Jeon stood before the congregation, one hand resting lightly against the pulpit as he prepared to proclaim the gospel.
“A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew.”
“Glory to You, O Lord,” you whispered under your breath, your sparkling eyes lifted up toward him.
You were in your usual favorite spot—in the front row, like his favorite little church girl—your hair tied with a white ribbon, a long modest dress hiding the sinful image beneath.
Every time he spoke, his eyes never lingered on you. He looked over the crowd like a devoted priest, delivering his words slowly, with quiet passion. And whenever he did happen to find you in the congregation, he would only glance past you, as if you were anyone else.
You smirked inwardly. Who would’ve known that this same priest was literally begging on his knees to eat your pussy inside the church office?
When Holy Communion came, you made sure to open the first few buttons of your dress, revealing the rosary necklace you were wearing—the small cross resting between the plush curve of your cleavage.
“The Body of… Christ,” Fr. Jeon said slowly, his eyes drifting down to the rosary wrapped around your neck, the cross sitting dangerously above your breasts.
“Amen,” you said softly, parting your lips for him.
You almost smiled in quiet victory when you saw his jaw tighten—his composure slowly, subtly fracturing beneath the weight of your sacrilegious act.
When he placed the host on your tongue, you leaned in just slightly too far, letting your tongue brush against his thumb in a fleeting, deliberate touch. So small it could be denied. So intentional it could not be mistaken.
A soft hum escaped you as you pulled back, watching the shift in him—the way his body stilled, the way his breath caught. You were already turning away when his voice followed you, low and controlled.
“Meet me after this.”
You looked up at him, briefly thrown, but his gaze had already returned to the ritual at hand, as if nothing had happened.
Delight curled through you at the sight of him unraveling so carefully in public, holding himself together by force alone while you watched the cracks form in real time.
And when you returned to your seat, you could still feel it—the difference. His voice had deepened into something sharper, more distant. His posture stiffened as he finished the mass, each word now measured, restrained, as though he were forcing himself back into place one line at a time.
Wicked.
Sitting properly on the couch in his office, you waited patiently for Fr. Jeon. It was the first time you would see each other up close after mass, and the thought alone made a soft, bubbling excitement bloom in your chest.
You even brought a small box of cookies for him, carefully balanced in your lap, as if sweetness alone could disguise the anticipation curling beneath your ribs.
When the office door finally opened, you looked up at once and smiled.
He stood there still in his liturgical vestments. Over his white alb, he wore a flowing chasuble that draped heavily over his shoulders, embroidered gold catching the afternoon light that spilled through the glass windows like something almost sacred in itself. A white stole rested beneath it all, marking him clearly as the celebrant of the mass, a figure meant to be untouchable.
He looked absolutely breathtaking—so holy, so distant, so unreachable.
And yet, you already had him like a servant—willing, obedient, on his knees for you.
When he walked toward you, his expression was serious and unyielding. You stood up quickly, excitement lifting you, holding out your small gift for him.
“Good afternoon, Fr. Jeon. I got you cooki—”
The cookies slipped from your hands as he suddenly closed the distance, his hand wrapping around your throat. The rosary beads pressed sharply into your skin.
“I told you...that rosaries are not meant to be worn around your neck, didn’t I?” he said in a mocking tone, his voice low and controlled. His eyes looked darker behind his glasses.
His liturgical vestments suddenly felt overwhelming in this close space, no longer distant or ceremonial, but imposing, almost suffocating, as if you were only now realizing the weight of him in this proximity.
You gasped as his fingers tightened slightly around your throat, not enough to hurt—just enough to demand an answer.
“Y-You did, Father.”
“Mhm. I did,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Didn’t I?”
A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the shift in him—how his composure had snapped so suddenly, as if the thin thread of his restraint, stretched in the presence of the Lord, had finally given way.
Dominance.
You gasped when he kissed you hard, cutting off your breath in an instant. His other hand bunched up the long skirts of your dress, hot palms slipping beneath the fabric to cup your warm pussy.
“You’re so impure,” he chuckled darkly, his fingers tracing over your clothed clit.
A soft moan escaped you as you tried to wriggle in his hold, but his grip at your throat kept you firmly in place.
“Sit on my desk and spread your legs,” he commanded, releasing you all at once—both your throat and your pussy.
With shaky legs, you moved toward his desk, climbing onto it and bunching your long skirt up around your waist before slowly spreading your legs wide for him.
Fr. Jeon walked toward you, his gaze fixed on the sight of you—so openly willing for him. The rosary cross rested between your breasts like a sin made visible, the white ribbons in your hair now looking almost tainted, your dress bunched up enough to expose your wet cunt to him.
His fingers closed around the rosary you were wearing. Your breath hitched as he slowly pulled it, forcing your neck to tilt forward with the motion.
“You’re such a whore, wearing this around me,” he said in a condescending tone, drawing you closer until he pressed a shallow kiss to your lips.
“I-Isn’t it pretty?” you asked weakly, still trying to tease him.
He let out a humorless chuckle. Without another word, he reached for the scripture on his desk. “I’ll show you what’s pretty.”
You gasped as he pulled the rosary again, forcing you forward while his other hand held the bible. “Open your mouth.”
Confused, you slowly obeyed, your eyes widening when he suddenly placed the book between your teeth.
“Hold still and bite the scripture,” he commanded sharply before spreading your legs wider.
You bit down hard on the book as he suddenly slapped your cunt.
“Mhmp!” you whimpered, eyes watering from the intensity of it.
Fr. Jeon raised a brow. He lifted his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, his gaze locked on you as he slowly dragged his tongue over them. You bit down harder on the book when he used his saliva-coated fingers to slap your cunt again.
“Shh, quiet, sweetheart… there are other people outside- praying,” he said mockingly, tugging lightly on the rosary around your neck.
You bit down harder when he slapped your cunt again, pulling harshly on the rosary around your neck whenever your whimpers escaped.
“Poor baby… you want me to finger you?” he cooed, slapping your cunt once more. Your panties were already soaked, your arousal building from the relentless stimulation.
You eagerly nodded, drool spilling past your lips and onto the scripture beneath you. Your neck was beginning to ache and swell each time he tugged on the beads.
“Do you deserve it?” he asked, twirling the rosary between his fingers, playing with it slowly.
A tear slipped down your cheek when he slapped your cunt again. Your thighs tried to wriggle on the table, but he only pulled harder on the rosary in response.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m finally going to give you what you want,” he said, letting go of you.
Your eyes almost rolled back when you saw him kneel.
You drooled messily against the book when he flipped your panties aside, three of his fingers immediately slipping inside you to stretch your cunt.
“So tight, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your clit while his fingers continued to thrust inside you.
Each time his fingers pulled back, a fresh gush of wetness spilled out, revealing just how needy and aroused you were.
Looking down, you saw how godly he looked—kneeling so close to your pussy, lips parted as he watched his fingers disappear in and out of your tight hole.
“Mhmph,” you whimpered, his fingers knuckles deep inside you, brushing against your spongy spot and leaving you wriggly and tingly.
“You’re so soaked, sweetheart. It’s so hard to rub you properly like this… so, so wet.”
When he saw how restless you were getting, he suddenly removed his fingers. You were about to frown when he stood up, your eyes widening as he began removing his chasuble and slacks.
“This is what you wanted, right?” he taunted, finally revealing his hard cock.
It was already thick and hard, twitching on its own before he even touched it. Prominent veins pulsed along the girth, and his mushroom tip looked swollen and flushed. Using his fingers, he squeezed the plump head, drawing out more precum before spreading it along the shaft. He slowly rolled the foreskin down, his gaze fixed on your helpless body.
“Do you want this cock inside your tight little pussy?” he said breathily, jerking his hard cock in his hand…his eyes were heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted.
You nodded eagerly, tears spilling down your cheeks from anticipation. Your pussy pulsed hard, leaking more of your arousal down onto the table beneath you.
He chuckled, gripping both of your thighs and spreading them wider for him. “Hold your skirt up, sweetheart,” he murmured, as your long skirt kept drifting down while he positioned you.
With weak hands, you slowly bunched your skirt up. Your jaw was already aching from biting down on the book, but you were determined to be a good girl for him, biting down harder as your eyes turned red and your cheeks flushed, warm and swollen.
When he positioned his mushroom tip against your slit, you almost dropped the book. The feeling of his wet cock against your folds sent a sharp jolt through you.
“Gonna fuck you now, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
Your teeth nearly ached from how hard you bit down when he suddenly pushed inside you. Your tight walls immediately sucked him in. You watched his lips part in shock, his eyes rolling back for a moment—before he could even thrust, you felt him spilling inside you.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he cursed under his breath, trembling as he suddenly came so hard inside you, his lips parting at how good your pussy felt.
You were so warm and tight that he was already convulsing. His grip on your waist tightened so hard it was almost painful. You were shocked—you hadn’t expected him to cum that quickly, but then again, it had been so long since he’d done anything like this. The pent-up frustration was overwhelming, and the moment he felt you, he was already shaking.
When you saw him trembling, you slowly removed the book from your lips. Your jaw ached, but you still managed to give him a small, weak smile.
“Mhm, am I tight, Fr. Jeon?” you whispered weakly, feeling him twitch inside you, filling you with so much cum that it had you feeling completely full.
"T-Too tight." he groaned.
His arms were growing weaker, still trying to push his cum deeper and deeper into your cunt. His cock was already overstimulated and softening, but he still wanted his cum buried deep inside you, some of it already dripping down your thighs.
He groaned, pushing his cock deeper until he was finally hard again. You could feel his mushroom tip swell once more, your pussy stretching around his thickening girth.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at you. He had come so hard he had nearly forgotten about the book he made you bite down on, his rational thoughts slipping away completely, leaving only the heat and the feeling of you.
You bit your lip, opening your legs wider. “Yeah? Do you miss having such a warm pussy around your cock?”
His lips parted...his right hand returned to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat.
“What a dirty mouth you have,” he whispered breathily, like he was only just remembering why he was fucking you so hard in the first place.
He squeezed your throat, earning a loud whimper from you.
Before you could coo at him, he was already flipping you over, bending you against his desk. He immediately grabbed the book, shoving it forcefully into your mouth.
“You think I’m done, huh?” he taunted, kneeling down behind you.
You groaned, biting down on the scripture again, whimpering loudly when you felt him spreading your wet pussy from behind.
“Push my cum out for me,” he said, opening your folds and waiting for you to push it out.
You contracted your pussy, and a gush of his milky white cum spilled from your used hole. Before it could even drip onto the floor, his tongue was already there, scooping it up and swallowing everything until no trace was left.
When he stood up, you were left a trembling mess. Your eyes widened as he pulled on the rosary necklace, the beads wrapping around your throat like a collar. He used it as leverage before pushing his cock back inside you.
“Shh… bite down on the scripture. Let it silence your impurity,” he murmured behind you, thrusting deeper and harder until your body was nearly bouncing against the table from the force of it.
You wanted to moan so badly. The way his mushroom tip kept brushing against your g-spot felt so overwhelming. When he angled his hips in slow circular motions, your weak lips finally dropped the book, and you gasped as it hit the floor with a dull thud.
The moment he felt you slipping out of control, he stopped—only for you to immediately reach for the book. Before you could even grab it, he flipped you onto your back again.
“Fucking whore, can’t follow simple instructions while my cock’s deep inside you, huh?” he taunted, ripping the buttons of your dress just enough to expose your breasts.
“I-I’m sorry, I—”
You shrieked loudly when he suddenly slapped your nipples, the area turning immediately pink.
“Stay there,” he commanded.
You went still at once, your weak eyes following his movements as he reached into the bottom cabinet of his desk.
When he stood up again, he was holding a candle and a box of matches. “Hold this, sweetheart.”
He usually used those candles during scripture readings, letting the flame illuminate the pages.
You held it for him as instructed, watching as he struck a match and lit it, the small flame flickering to life before he set the match aside.
You turned slightly, glancing toward the window. There was still daylight outside—enough to see clearly. Before you could ask what he needed it for, he took the candle from your hand.
“Fr. Jeon, w-what are you—”
Your eyes widened when he tilted the candle downward, the wax threatening to drip onto your breasts. You gasped sharply when it finally landed on your nipple.
“Does it feel good?” he whispered, lowering the candle toward the other bud.
When the hot wax fell onto your other nipple, you moaned loudly, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as pain and pleasure collided.
It was hot and shocking—yet, for some reason, the sting felt addictive, almost intoxicating.
“Y-Yes, Father.” you bit your lower lip hard, watching as the candle was now directed toward your inner thighs.
He raised a brow, your nipples already covered in white wax. “Yeah? Does this get you wet?”
Before you could answer, he was already pouring hot wax onto your left inner thigh. The pain there was sharper, more intense—like the skin was far more delicate and sensitive. When you instinctively tried to close your legs, he held them open, spreading you wider as he moved the candle to drip more wax onto your right inner thigh.
“Oh, God,” you moaned loudly, the hot wax dripping dangerously close to your wet pussy.
You were already trembling. The mix of heat and pain felt overwhelming yet addictive, tears falling uncontrollably down your cheeks.
Fr. Jeon chuckled at you. “What a pretty little pain slut… I’m supposed to punish you with this, but you’re dripping like a whore.”
He grabbed your cheeks, raising the candle up toward your face. “Make a wish,” he whispered.
You looked up at him with weak eyes, your nipples and inner thighs still burning and oversensitive from the wax. With a faint, shaky smile, you told him your wish.
“Fuck me like a slut, Fr. Jeon." you said breathily.
He growled harshly, stepping back a little to admire his work on your body, how the wax was covering your skin like a sin, how your pussy was so swollen and red, yet your hole was still eagerly twitching to be used.
He tilted his head. “You want that, sweetheart?” he said sweetly, his tone contradicting what he had just done to you.
You nodded eagerly. "Please, use my body like a whore, cum inside me until I’m dripping full of your cum, abuse my tight little pussy until I’m all loose and gaping, release all your forbidden frustrations and destroy my dignity.”
Fallen.
You couldn’t count the number of times you came around his cock that night—his cock thrusting so hard and deep inside you that you could feel how stretched your pussy was.
Every time you tried to fight him, he would push your body down onto the desk, threatening to silence you with scripture whenever you tried to break free from his hold.
When you thought he was done, he would maneuver your body again, spreading your legs wide so he could fuck you hard. His cross necklace would dangle in your face with every thrust. Whenever you moaned too loudly, he would punish you by dripping hot wax onto your inner thighs.
He would always condescendingly praise you, telling you what a poor little girl you were, letting him use you for his own sick pleasure.
"God, you'd let me use you whenever I want wouldn't you? Letting me fuck this tight pussy inside the church, like a good little christian." he would whisper.
It was so lewd when he asked you to touch yourself using the hand that wore his birthstone bracelet, urging you to part your lips for him, watching how the beads would brush over your clit every time you fucked your fingers inside your used, swollen hole.
"That's right...stretch your pussy, sweetheart. I want you nice and gaping when I fuck you again."
Then he would pull your body up, forcing you to bounce on his cock while pressing the beads deeper into your throat. He held both of your cheeks with his free hand so he could continually spit into your parted mouth, watching it drip messily down your chin like a cheap filthy whore. "I love how sinful and dirty you are...so perfect for me."
Capitulated.
You never forgot him, after that night he vanished like a wind.
When you heard that he had suddenly been appointed to another city, it felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet. Overnight, he was simply gone. The weekly sunday mass was no longer presided over by him, and no matter how many people you asked, nobody seemed to have a clear answer as to why.
All you heard were rumors.
Some said he wanted to experience ministry in a different city. Others claimed he had become so busy that he was constantly traveling between churches, handling responsibilities in several places at once. Every explanation sounded vague, rehearsed, and unsatisfying.
You wanted to believe them. But you couldn't.
For months, you carried that bitterness inside you. A part of you convinced yourself that he had simply left. That perhaps everything you shared had meant far less to him than it had to you. The thought hurt more than you cared to admit, especially because, between the two of you, you had been the dishonest one. You had been the one who approached him with hidden intentions, who slowly seduced him, who carefully led him into your snare while pretending to be an innocent church girl.
Yet somewhere along the way, things had changed.
For all your lies, for all your schemes and carefully crafted devotion, you couldn't deny what had happened to your own heart. You had fallen in love with his kindness. Not because he was a priest. Not because he was forbidden. Not because winning his attention felt like a challenge.
But because it was him.
It was the way he remembered small details about you. The way he listened whenever you spoke. The way he always treated people with patience and warmth. Somewhere between the scripture lessons, the afternoon conversations, and the countless boxes of cookies, your feelings had become real.
Then, one afternoon, a letter arrived.
Your hands trembled as you opened it, your heart pounding with a mixture of hope and dread. As your eyes moved across the page, tears immediately gathered in them.
All this time, you had believed he left because he wanted to.
The truth was far worse.
Someone had noticed. Someone had seen the way he treated you differently from everyone else—the way his gaze lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened whenever he spoke to you, the way he always seemed to make time for you no matter how busy he was. And eventually, they had discovered what happened behind the closed doors of the church office.
Tears slipped down your cheeks as you continued reading, your vision blurring with every line. For the first time since he disappeared, you finally understood why he had left.
The moment the parish discovered what had happened, he immediately apologized—to the church, to his superiors, and most of all, to the Lord. He had even offered his resignation, believing he was no longer worthy of his position.
But they refused. The parish forgave him.
They told him he was too kind, too devoted, too valuable to lose over a mistake. Instead of removing him from the priesthood, they gave him a chance to start over in a different city, far away from the rumors and whispers. They told him that what happened was a test of faith. A temptation. That God would always be stronger in his heart than any earthly attachment.
You were the temptation they spoke about.
You never wrote back, you never tried contacting him again. Because if he had truly wanted you, he would have resigned. He would have walked away from the collar, from the church, from the life he had chosen long before you entered it.
He would have chosen you.
Instead, when forced to decide between you and God, he surrendered himself to God. And that answer was enough.
With a deep breath, you entered the confession booth. You wanted to confess your sins, you wanted to move on.
It had been two years, and somehow you were still holding on to him.
Whenever Sana mentioned his name, your eyes would sting with unshed tears. Whenever you heard stories about him…how successful he had become, how respected he was as a priest now…an ache would settle deep inside your chest.
You could no longer step inside a church without thinking about him.
The stained-glass windows, the scent of incense, the quiet hum of prayer before mass. Every sacred thing had become tangled with the memory of him, until devotion and desire were no longer things you could separate.
So, with a heavy heart, you finally decided to let him go.
Sitting inside the confessional that afternoon, your fingers twisted nervously in your lap as you gathered the courage to speak.
A thin wooden partition stood between you, a barrier meant to separate priest from sinner, confession from judgment, devotion from temptation.
“Bless me, Father…. for I have sinned.” you said softly, behind the confession grille.
Your voice…soft and unforgettable, echoed through the small confessional booth.
The familiar scent of vanilla wrapped around him like a memory he had spent years trying to forget.
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✸ Lovestruck Fool ─── because keeping this secret for three years was driving him crazy.
— best friend! jeon jungkook x female! reader.
— In which a brutal breakup leaves you shattered, your best friend Jeon Jungkook drags you into his car for a reckless, cross-country escape. He is your ultimate comfort zone—driving for hours, making you laugh, and keeping the ghost of your ex at bay. It’s the safe, predictable friendship you’ve always relied on. Until a single-bed booking error and whispered nights by the coast change everything. Suddenly, the boy who used to just comfort you is looking at you with a devastating intensity. Jungkook isn't just saving you from heartbreak; he’s risking everything to confess he’s been unconditionally, desperately in love with you for three years—and he has no intention of letting you go.
— best friends to lovers | slow burn to smut | | so much fun banter| rom-com| Jungkook being SO FUNNY AND SEXY | heavy emotional angst | dry humping | nipple play | dominant & possessive jungkook | Unprotected sex | One bed | dirty talk | praise | established childhood bond | wc: 27k+
...
A/N : at last
…
The absolute worst part about having your heart broken into a million pieces was not the crying. It was the fact that the rest of the world completely refused to stop moving. You felt like the universe should at least have the decency to give you a gloomy thunderstorm or a dramatic power outage. But no. The sun outside your bedroom window was blindingly bright and your phone kept buzzing with annoying notifications.
Right on your kitchen counter sat two very expensive, completely non-refundable vacation tickets. They were supposed to be for a romantic road trip. Now, they were just tiny paper slips mocking your sudden single status.
You lay completely flat on your stomach, your face buried so deep into your pillow that you were pretty sure you were breathing in dust bunnies. You were wrapped in three different blankets, wearing a giant, faded t-shirt that had a stain from last week's takeout. Your eyes were raw and puffy from a solid twelve hours of weeping, and a highly depressing acoustic song was looping softly from your phone. You had fully committed to this bed. This was your life now. You were going to become one with the mattress.
Suddenly, a loud, violent metallic scrape echoed from the front door.
You didn't even blink. Only one person on the entire planet possessed your spare house key and the absolute lack of basic human manners to use it without texting first.
A few seconds later, your bedroom door didn't just open—it swung back so hard it hit the drywall with a dull thud. The immediate, comforting scent of clean laundry, mint gum, and sweet banana milk rushed into the dark, stuffy room.
"Jesus, sweets," a loud, entirely too cheerful voice boomed. "It looks like a vampire cave in here. Seriously, did something die under the bed?"
You didn't look up. Instead, you reached out blindly, grabbed the edge of your heavy comforter, and yanked it completely over your head until you were a dark, shapeless lump. "Go away, Jungkook. I am dead. Call the police."
"Can't do that. I don't look good in police station lighting," Jungkook said. You heard his heavy footsteps cross your hardwood floor. He didn't say anything sweet or sad. He didn't ask how your feelings were. Instead, a massive, crinkling plastic convenience store bag was dropped directly onto your lower back with a heavy thump. "I brought snacks. And more importantly, I brought myself. You can thank me now."
"I don't want snacks. I want to turn into a rock," your muffled voice grumbled from beneath the layers of fabric.
Jungkook let out a long, highly dramatic sigh. "A rock? Really? That's so uncreative."
Before you could even figure out what he was doing, you felt his large, strong hands grab the loose edges of your comforter. With one quick, incredibly smooth yank, he rolled you sideways across the bed. You let out a squeak as the blanket wrapped tighter and tighter around you, pinning your arms firmly to your sides. By the time he stopped pulling, you were rolled up like a massive, helpless cylinder.
"Jungkook! Let me out right now!" you yelled, wiggling your legs furiously, but you couldn't move an inch.
"Nope. You are officially a human burrito," he declared. He sat down heavily right on the edge of your mattress, looking down at you with a massive, goofy, bunny-toothed grin. He was wearing a giant, oversized bright yellow hoodie that made him look like a giant lemon, a black beanie pushed back on his dark hair, and baggy sweatpants. He looked completely cozy and entirely too full of chaotic energy. "And according to the rules of fast food, burritos are not allowed to stay in bed all day."
He casually reached into the plastic bag, pulled out a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips, and popped it open with a loud pop. He crunched on one right next to your ear, making as much noise as humanly possible.
"You need to eat. And you need to start throwing things into a bag," he said, talking around a chip.
"I’m not going on the trip, Jungkook," you whispered. The silly mood suddenly dipped, and that familiar, heavy ache pressed down on your chest again. Your throat felt tight. "The tickets were for... you know. I’m not going to drive across the country by myself like some pathetic loser in a movie. It’s supposed to be a couple's road trip."
Jungkook stopped chewing. His dark, round eyes softened for a fraction of a second, looking at you with total warmth. But he quickly blinked it away, replaced it with a look of pure, exaggerated offense, and let out a loud gasp.
"By yourself? A pathetic loser?" He slapped a hand over his chest. "Excuse me? Are you blind? Look at me. Look at these shoulders." He puffed his chest out dramatically. "I am the literal definition of the ultimate travel partner. I can drive for ten hours straight without getting sleepy. I can lift your heavy bags without complaining. And, most importantly, unlike your trash ex-boyfriend, I actually know how to wash my own hair without being reminded."
A tiny, involuntary laugh snorted out of your nose before you could stop it. "Jungkook, be serious for once."
"I am being 100% serious!" He grabbed his phone from his pocket, flipping it around to show you a photo of his large black duffel bag sitting by his front door. "I’ve been completely packed since you called me crying at two in the morning. I even packed my good cologne. We are absolutely not letting that absolute clown ruin your summer vacation. Honestly, the guy dressed like a wet cardboard box anyway. You basically downgraded your stress level by losing him."
"He did not dress like cardboard," you mumbled, though a small part of your brain completely agreed.
"Sweets, he literally wore white socks with leather sandals to a nice seafood restaurant. We’ve discussed this. It was a crime against humanity," Jungkook joked, rolling his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck.
He stood up, stretched his arms above his head, and walked straight over to your closet. He dragged your large, dusty suitcase out from the corner, threw it onto the floor, and opened it with a long, aggressive zipppp. Without asking for permission, he grabbed a handful of random t-shirts from your hangers and tossed them into the empty bag.
"Hey! Stop! What are you doing? Don't just throw things in there!" you shrieked, trying to break your arms free from the blanket trap.
"Then get your lazy self out of the burrito and do it properly," he countered, flashing a cheeky, challenging smile. He reached deep into your drawer and held up a bright, neon green t-shirt that you hadn't touched since a middle school spirit day. "Are we taking this? It looks like a giant highlighter. Perfect for when you get lost in the woods and I have to hunt you down."
"Give me that, you idiot!" You finally managed to kick your legs loose, scrambling out of the blanket pile like a chaotic animal to snatch the ugly shirt from his hands.
Jungkook hopped back, laughing a rich, loud sound that echoed through your quiet apartment. He stood by the window, watching with a satisfied little smirk as you finally began neatly folding your clothes and placing them into the suitcase. The suffocating, heavy weight that had been sitting on your lungs all morning suddenly felt a little bit lighter. He was loud, he was annoying, and he completely ignored your personal space, but he was exactly the distraction you needed to keep from losing your mind.
For the next thirty minutes, you both fought over what to pack. Jungkook tried to convince you that bringing five pairs of shoes was unnecessary, while he simultaneously tried to pack three different gaming controllers "just in case the hotels have a good TV." He kept grabbing random things around your room—like a giant stuffed bear and a pack of old sticky notes—and trying to drop them into the suitcase just to see your annoyed reaction.
"We are not taking the stuffed bear, Jungkook! It takes up the entire suitcase!" you yelled, throwing a pair of rolled-up socks directly at his forehead.
He caught the socks perfectly with one hand, laughing loudly. "But what if you get scared of the dark? Who is going to protect you? Me? I'm terrified of ghosts. The bear is our only line of defense."
"I'll take my chances with the ghosts," you laughed, snatching the bear back and tossing it onto your bed.
Once the suitcase was finally zipped shut, Jungkook grabbed the handle and lifted it effortlessly, checking his imaginary watch. "Alright, let's move out. The Jeon Express is leaving the station."
You walked into the bathroom to quickly wash your face and brush your teeth. Your reflection looked a bit tired, with faint dark circles under your eyes, but the tears had completely stopped. You tied your hair up into a messy, casual bun and walked out to the parking lot.
The bright summer sun hit your face, making you squint. Jungkook was already leaning against the hood of his clean black car, holding two large iced coffees from the café down the street. He didn't say anything heavy or emotional as you approached. He just handed you the plastic cup, his warm, thick fingers brushing against yours for a brief second.
Before you could pull the passenger door open, Jungkook stepped directly into your path, blocking you. He was much taller than you, shadowing you completely from the bright light.
He reached out, his large thumb pressing gently against your cheek. He carefully wiped away a tiny, dried tear track that you had missed near your ear. His touch was incredibly soft, completely different from his usual clumsy, rough-and-tumble energy.
He looked straight down into your eyes, his voice dropping into a quiet, remarkably gentle tone. "Hey. No more crying about that guy on this trip. From this moment on, you only laugh with me. Deal?"
You stared up at his dark, clear eyes, completely caught off guard by how serious he looked for that single second. You nodded slowly, a genuine smile pulling at your lips. "Deal."
"Awesome!" Jungkook yelled instantly, completely shattering the quiet, sweet moment as he slammed his hand down onto the roof of the car and hopped into the driver's seat. "Get in, loser! We have snacks to buy and miles to burn!"
You climbed into the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt as Jungkook cranked up the engine. The car filled with the cool blast of the air conditioner, and as you pulled out of the parking lot, you looked over at him. He was already tapping his fingers happily against the steering wheel, completely ready for the road. The sadness was still there, lurking in the back of your mind, but looking at his bright, energetic smile, you knew this road trip was going to be exactly what you needed.
…
The first two hours of the road trip were an absolute, unmitigated war zone. Specifically, a war over who controlled the car's Bluetooth settings, and neither of you was willing to sign a peace treaty.
The highway stretched out infinitely ahead of you, a long ribbon of gray asphalt surrounded by massive, rolling green hills and a perfectly clear blue sky. It was a textbook summer day. The windows were rolled down halfway, filling the car with a loud, roaring rush of wind that blew your hair completely wildly across your face and brought in the fresh scent of cut grass.
You were slouched deeply in the passenger seat, your knees propped against the dashboard, staring out at the passing green trees. For a brief minute, the noise of the wind faded into the background of your mind, and your brain tried to slide back into thinking about your ex. You felt that familiar, annoying little sting in your throat, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. Automatically, wanting to drown out the silence, your hand reached toward the glowing dashboard screen to connect your phone.
"What do you think you're doing?" Jungkook asked suddenly. He didn't take his eyes off the highway, but his upper body instantly leaned toward the center console like a guard dog protecting a bone.
"I’m just trying to play a song," you said, pulling up a playlist of very quiet, very sad indie acoustic ballads. "Just background music for the drive."
"Absolutely not," Jungkook said, pressing his foot down on the gas pedal to pass a slow-moving semi-truck. "I know that exact tone of voice. You’re about to play one of those depressing songs where the singer sounds like they’re whispering while crying in a dark closet. This car is a designated heartbreak-free zone. No sad guitars allowed on my watch."
"Jungkook, it’s a beautiful song! Just let me play one!" you argued, reaching your fingers closer to the touchscreen. "It sets a peaceful mood!"
"Peaceful? Sweets, that song makes people want to stare out a rainy window and question their entire existence," he countered.
In one lightning-fast move, Jungkook snatched the charging cable, plugged it into his own phone, and slapped his device firmly into the cup holder. "Too bad. The captain has taken total control of the vessel. Prepare your ears for actual quality."
A ridiculously loud, incredibly upbeat pop song from 2012 blasted through the car speakers. The beat was incredibly fast, and entirely impossible to take seriously. It was a song you hadn't heard since high school, filled with cheesy dramatic bass drops.
You let out a massive groan, covering your face with both hands as the speakers rattled. "Oh my god, please no. Not this song. Turn it off right now! I will actually jump out of the moving vehicle, I swear to god."
Jungkook completely ignored your suffering. His face lit up with pure, unadulterated mischief. He snatched his half-empty plastic water bottle from the holder, gripping it tightly like a professional microphone. He started belting out the lyrics at the absolute top of his lungs, intentionally hitting every single high note completely out of tune. He bounced his shoulders to the rhythm, his head bobbing wildly as he kept his eyes safely glued to the road.
"Come on! I know you know the chorus! Don't lie to me!" he shouted over the blaring music, shoving the top of the water bottle toward your face like an aggressive reporter.
"I am absolutely not participating in this," you laughed, trying your hardest to maintain a stern, annoyed expression, but failing completely. You tried to swat the water bottle away, but he just leaned closer, his voice getting even louder and more ridiculous.
When the main chorus hit, Jungkook did a dramatic, slow-motion hair shake, turning his head just enough to give you a ridiculous, cheesy wink through his dark sunglasses. He looked so absurd—this highly muscular, broad-shouldered guy who spent five days a week lifting heavy weights at the gym, singing a sugary girl-pop anthem with the passion of a stadium performer.
The ridiculousness of the sight was too much. You burst into a loud, hysterical laugh that completely filled the space of the car, your ribs aching. Hearing you laugh only made Jungkook grow more confident. He started doing little seated dance moves, tapping his fingers wildly against the steering wheel and wiggling his eyebrows at you.
By the time the fourth song came on, you completely threw away your dignity. You grabbed an empty plastic coffee cup to use as your own microphone, rolled your window down all the way, and joined him. You both screamed the ridiculous lyrics out into the open air as the highway blurred past, your voices cracking on the high notes. For the first time in what felt like centuries, the heavy, suffocating cloud in your head was totally gone. You weren't a dumped ex-girlfriend wallowing in self-pity. You were just you, acting like a complete idiot with your best friend.
"We need a strategy," Jungkook said solemnly as you walked through the sliding glass doors of the convenience store. The air conditioning hit you like an icy wall, smelling faintly of stale coffee and hot dogs. "We can't just pick random snacks. We need a perfect balance of salty, sweet, sour, and a wild card."
"A wild card?" you asked, eyebrow raised as you grabbed a small plastic shopping basket.
"Yes. Something we have never tried before, or something that looks mildly dangerous to eat," he explained, completely serious. He marched straight over to the chip aisle, his eyes scanning the shelves like a scientist. "For salty, we are obviously going with the giant bag of sour cream and onion. It's a classic. No debate."
"Fine, but I get to choose the sweet snack," you argued, stepping past him to grab a pack of chocolate-covered pretzels. "These are mandatory."
Jungkook looked at the bag, then down at you, nodding slowly in approval. "Excellent choice. The salt-to-chocolate ratio is highly efficient. I respect it." He then wandered over to the candy section, holding up a box of extremely sour gummy worms. "For sour, we go with these. They look like they will strip the enamel right off our teeth. Perfect."
"And what’s the wild card?" you asked, following him as he walked over to a weird display near the cash register.
He pointed a finger at a dusty jar containing massive, bright pink pickled sausages floating in cloudy liquid. "Those. They look like an alien life form."
"Absolutely not, Jungkook! I am not letting you eat a radioactive sausage in your car. The smell will never leave the fabric," you shrieked, grabbing his arm to pull him away from the counter.
Jungkook laughed, a rich, bouncy sound that made his chest shake against your hand. He let you drag him toward the drink cooler, where he immediately grabbed three bottles of sweet banana milk and an iced coffee for you. "Fine, no alien sausages. But if we run out of fuel for our brains, I’m blaming you."
By the time you reached the register, your basket was completely overflowing with junk food. Jungkook pulled out his wallet before you could even reach for yours, tossing his card to the cashier with a confident smirk.
"I told you, I’m funding the snack department on this trip," he said, bumping his shoulder against yours playfully. "Your money is no good here, sweets."
"You're just trying to buy my affection so I don't roast your music taste anymore," you teased, grabbing the heavy plastic bag as the cashier handed it over.
"Is it working?" he asked, flashing a quick, bunny-toothed grin as he pushed the exit door open for you.
"Slightly," you admitted, popping a chocolate pretzel into your mouth as you walked back out into the bright, baking afternoon heat. "The banana milk definitely helped your case."
Back on the road, the smooth, flat highway slowly began to change. The scenery grew more crowded with large patches of trees, and the road began to tilt upward as you approached the lower hills of the mountain range.
It was around this time that Jungkook’s "perfect internal navigation system," which he had spent the last thirty miles bragging about, proved to be an absolute, unmitigated disaster.
"Jungkook," you said, leaning forward in your seat and squinting through the windshield as the smooth asphalt slowly transitioned into a bumpy, unpaved road. "The giant yellow sign we passed back there definitely said 'Road Closed Ahead.' Like, in giant, flashing bold letters."
"Don't worry about it, it’s fine. The main highway has a massive traffic backup according to my radar. I’m taking a highly calculated shortcut," he said smoothly, spinning the leather steering wheel to the right with total, unearned confidence. "Trust the process. I have an internal compass. It's an instinct, really. My ancestors were probably navigators."
"Your ancestors probably didn't have to deal with dead ends, Jungkook," you muttered, holding onto the door handle as the car jolted over a particularly deep pothole.
The road grew narrower and narrower, the thick trees closing in on either side until branches were lightly brushing against the side mirrors. The GPS screen on the dashboard had completely lost its mind, showing your little car icon spinning in circles in the middle of a massive green void.
Ten minutes later, the road completely ended. It didn't just narrow down—it stopped dead at a rotten wooden farm fence. On the other side of the fence stood three very large, very brown, and very confused-looking cows. They stopped chewing their grass to stare directly through the windshield at your car.
The car went completely silent except for the low, quiet idling hum of the engine.
You turned your head very slowly on the headrest to look at him. Jungkook was still gripping the steering wheel with both hands, staring blankly through the glass at the cows. His mouth was slightly open, his brain actively processing the absolute defeat.
The silence stretched on for a solid thirty seconds.
"Wow," you whispered softly, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Incredible shortcut, captain. Truly magnificent. Should I roll down the passenger window and ask the middle cow for the fastest route back to civilization, or do you want to handle the negotiations?"
Jungkook’s ears instantly turned a bright, burning shade of pink, the color creeping up from his collar. He cleared his throat loudly, stubbornly refusing to look at you at first. He squeezed the steering wheel tightly, then let out a tiny, embarrassed, high-pitched giggle that he tried to disguise as a cough.
"Hey... honestly, sweets, they look like they know the area," he mumbled, finally glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "They look like locals. They probably have a lot of wisdom."
"Admission of total defeat, Jeon. Say the words," you teased, unbuckling your seatbelt so you could lean your upper body completely across the center console, getting directly into his line of sight. "I want to hear you say it."
"Fine! I whined," he groaned, throwing his arms up in the air dramatically and letting his head fall back against the seat. "We are completely, utterly lost. My internal compass is broken. The ancestors lied to me. You win the navigation trophy. Happy now?"
"Incredibly happy," you laughed loudly, reaching your hand completely across his lap to grab his phone from the plastic dashboard mount so you could check the real map. "Now give me the device so we don't end up living in a barn with your new friends."
Because you had lunged over so quickly without thinking, your shoulder bumped hard against his broad chest. Your hand froze right on the screen of his phone.
Jungkook froze instantly beneath you. He didn't pull back. You froze too, your breath hitching as you suddenly realized exactly how close your faces were.
From this distance, the loud wind from outside felt completely quiet. The playful, chaotic energy that had filled the car for hours vanished in a single fraction of a second. You were leaning completely over his lap, your face mere inches from his. You could smell the sharp, clean, woodsy scent of his cologne mixed with the faint sweetness of the mint gum he was chewing.
His dark, round eyes were incredibly wide, staring straight down into your face. In the dimming afternoon light inside the car, his jawline looked remarkably sharp. For a tiny, terrifyingly unexpected second, his gaze dropped from your eyes down to your lips, lingering there for a heavy beat before snapping back up.
Your brain suddenly realized, with terrifying clarity, that Jungkook was very large, very solid, and entirely a grown man.
The silence lasted a second too long, the tension stretching tight like a rubber band.
Jungkook quickly cleared his throat, the sound a bit rougher than usual. He broke the weird spell by gently wrapping his large fingers around your wrist to help guide the phone into your hand, his skin burning hot against yours. He flashed a slightly forced, goofy grin to shatter the moment. "Here. Take it, captain. Save us from the cows."
"Thanks," you whispered, your voice a little breathless as you scrambled back into your own seat as fast as possible. Your heart was thumping a little too fast, a deep, hot blush rapidly spreading across your cheeks as you quickly stared down at the phone screen, praying he wouldn't notice.
"Alright," you said after a minute, desperately trying to keep your voice level and normal as you tapped the map screen. "If you put the car in reverse and back up about fifty yards, there’s a small tractor path that loops back to the main county road."
"On it," Jungkook said, clearly glad for the distraction. He threw the car into reverse, throwing his right arm over the back of your headrest so he could look out the rear window as he backed up.
Having his large arm stretched out right behind your neck made you feel incredibly small, his biceps flexing just inches from your face. You kept your eyes glued to the phone screen, pretending to study the map with intense interest, though the lines were completely blurring together.
"See? I told you I'd get us off the beaten path," Jungkook joked as the car successfully bounced back onto the main paved road a few minutes later. The playful, easygoing banter was returning, but the air in the car felt slightly different now—warmer, charged with a tiny, lingering spark that neither of you knew how to acknowledge.
"You got us into a staring contest with livestock, Jungkook," you retorted, rolling your eyes but letting out a soft laugh. "Let's just stick to the actual road from now on."
"Fines," he chuckled, tapping his fingers against the wheel as the highway finally began to wind upward into the beautiful, dark green mountains. "But if we see a cool waterfall on a dirt path, I'm not making any promises."
…
By the time you finally reached the higher mountain region, the bright summer sky had completely vanished. It was replaced by heavy, bruised-looking purple clouds. A sudden, massive downpour began to slam against the windshield, the rain coming down so thick that the wipers struggled to keep up with the sheets of water.
The GPS led you down a narrow, winding road that cut through massive forests covered in thick gray mist. It felt like you were driving straight into a movie scene. Finally, the car pulled up to a small, rustic wooden cabin nestled tightly between the trees. The yellow porch light cast a warm, blurry glow through the dark storm.
"We made it alive," Jungkook said, turning off the ignition. The sudden silence inside the car, save for the loud drumming of rain on the metal roof, felt incredibly heavy.
He looked over at you, noticing that you were shivering slightly from the sudden drop in the mountain temperature. Without saying a single word, he reached into the back seat, grabbed his spare, giant black hoodie, and dumped it right into your lap.
"Put that on before you turn into an ice cube," he said smoothly. "You're shaking."
The hoodie was completely massive on you. When you pulled it over your head, it smelled entirely like his clean laundry detergent and faint mint gum. The sleeves completely swallowed your hands, extending way past your fingers, but it was incredibly warm. You buried your nose into the high collar, instantly feeling a sense of absolute safety.
Getting the luggage inside, however, turned into a complete comedy. Jungkook, determined to show off his weekly gym progress, insisted on carrying both your giant suitcase and his heavy duffel bag at the exact same time. He grabbed both handles, took three highly confident, heavy steps toward the wooden porch, and suddenly, the cheap zipper on his overstuffed duffel bag completely popped open.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Jungkook muttered, freezing in place.
Before he could drop the bags, half of his packed clothes—including five pairs of bright neon socks and his favorite oversized gaming t-shirts—spilled out onto the wet, rainy wooden steps.
You stood safely under the porch roof, burying your face in your hands as you tried to suffocate your laughter. Jungkook scrambled around in the pouring rain, frantically scooping up his wet laundry with a deeply panicked, embarrassed expression.
"Don't look at me!" he yelled dramatically, clutching a bundle of wet gray sweatpants to his chest like a shield. "This is completely destroying my cool image!"
"You don't have a cool image!" you shouted back, laughing until your stomach hurt as you helped him grab the last few stray shirts and pulled him inside the warm cabin.
The interior of the place was beautiful—all dark wood walls, a stone fireplace, and a massive glass window looking out at the rainy woods. But the second you both walked into the bedroom area, you stopped dead in your tracks.
There was only one bed. It was a massive, king-sized bed with fluffy white comforters and a mountain of pillows, sitting right in the center of the room.
"Wait a minute," you said, quickly pulling up the email confirmation on your phone. "I definitely selected the option for two twin beds. I checked the box."
Jungkook walked back out to the small main office by the lobby, returning a few minutes later while scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Uh, so... turns out there was a massive booking glitch because of the storm. A bunch of travelers got stranded on the highway, so the place is completely full. This is the only room left in the entire place."
You looked at the single, giant bed, and then you looked at Jungkook.
In the past, sharing a sleeping space wouldn't have made you blink. You had known this guy forever. You had fallen asleep on his bedroom floor while playing video games a million times. It was always safe, always platonic, always totally effortless. But right now, standing in the dim, warm light of the cabin, the atmosphere felt completely different.
He wasn't the scrawny kid from next door anymore. He was a grown man with heavy shoulders and a presence that suddenly made the bedroom feel very, very small.
"Hey," Jungkook said softly, noticing your sudden silence. He stepped closer, clearly misinterpreting your expression. He thought you were getting sad about your ruined romantic plans again. "Look, if you’re uncomfortable, I can easily sleep on the floor. Or I can just crash in the back seat of the car. It’s seriously no big deal, sweets. Don't worry about it."
You looked at his damp hair, a few wet strands sticking to his forehead from the rain, and his wide, genuinely concerned eyes. You felt a wave of guilt for making him feel like an intruder.
"No, don't be ridiculous," you said, forcing a loud, casual laugh to clear the weird, awkward tension in the air. "It's a massive bed. We can just put a line of pillows down the middle. Like we did when we were kids. If your foot crosses over to my territory, I’m kicking you out."
Jungkook’s entire face instantly brightened, his familiar bunny smile returning in full force. "Oh, it's on. If you steal the blankets, I'm charging you a late fee."
After a highly sophisticated dinner of instant spicy ramen that you bought from the lobby store, the night grew late. The heavy rain outside continued to beat a loud, steady rhythm against the glass window. The cabin was incredibly warm, heated by the small electric fireplace in the corner.
You had changed into comfortable sweatpants but kept his giant hoodie on, the fabric keeping you completely cozy. Jungkook had changed into low-slung gray sweatpants and a simple, tight black t-shirt that showed off the lines of his arms.
You both climbed into the massive bed, keeping an intentional, wide gap of white sheet between your bodies, with a long fortress of pillows stacked neatly down the center. You lay flat on your back, staring up at the dark wooden beams of the ceiling, listening to the storm.
"Hey," Jungkook’s voice was surprisingly quiet, cutting through the dark room. He was lying on his side, facing your direction, his head propped up by his hand.
"Yeah?" you asked, turning your head toward him.
Jungkook looked at you through the gap in the pillows. The playful, goofy expression was gone. He looked serious, his dark eyes analyzing you carefully. "Can I ask you something? And you have to promise not to get mad or throw a pillow at my face."
"Depends on the question," you muttered, shifting slightly under the heavy blanket.
"Why are you actually crying so much over this guy?" he asked bluntly, his voice grounded and steady.
You blinked, caught completely off guard. "What do you mean? He broke up with me right before a vacation. It's normal to be sad."
Jungkook let out a low, quiet huff that sounded like a laugh, but it wasn't mean. He rested his chin on his forearm, staring directly into your eyes. "Sweets, let’s be entirely real for a second. That guy was a total time pass. For both of you."
"He was not!" you protested, though your voice lacked real conviction.
"He absolutely was," Jungkook countered smoothly, his tone incredibly calm. "You guys dated for what, eight months? And half the time, you forgot to even text him back because you were too busy baking or watching a show. You never talked about a future with him. You never even looked excited when he called. When he was around, it was just... convenient. It was a habit."
You opened your mouth to argue, but the words completely died in your throat. You stared up at the ceiling, your heart thumping against your ribs as his words sank in.
"I stayed back and didn't say anything because it wasn't my place," Jungkook continued softly, his voice dropping into a lower, gentler register. "I honestly thought you weren't even serious about him. I thought if you broke up, you’d just say 'oh well' and move on. So seeing you completely turn into a blanket burrito and weep for twelve hours straight... it doesn't make sense. You didn't love him, sweets."
"Then why does it hurt so much?" you whispered, your voice suddenly feeling very small, very raw in the dark cabin. A tiny, hot tear slipped down the side of your face, soaking into the pillow. "Why am I so miserable?"
Jungkook didn't answer with words right away. Instead, you felt the mattress shift heavily. He didn't cross the pillow barrier completely, but he reached his large, warm hand over the top of the cushions. His long fingers gently found yours under the edge of the blanket.
He didn't squeeze your hand hard, but his grip was incredibly steady, anchor-like. His skin was burning hot against your cold fingers.
"Because your pride is hurt," Jungkook said softly, his dark eyes fixed entirely on your face in the dim orange glow of the fireplace. "He rejected you, and nobody likes being rejected. It makes you feel lonely. It makes you feel like you failed at something. But you're missing the habit, not the person. You deserve someone who isn't just a 'time pass,'. You deserve someone who actually makes you feel alive."
You stared at him through the darkness, your breath completely catching in your throat.
His large thumb began to slowly, casually stroke the back of your hand, a tiny, repetitive movement that sent a strange, electric shiver straight up your arm. You were acutely, terrifyingly aware of how large he was, how close he was sitting on the other side of those pillows.
Your brain completely short-circuited. You had spent months telling yourself that your ex was the partner you were supposed to have, but standing next to Jungkook's sudden, intense emotional maturity, that entire relationship felt like a joke. The deep, unconditional comfort you felt with Jungkook right now—the way he read your mind, the way he knew exactly what you needed without you asking—it felt dangerously close to what real love was supposed to look like.
No, you told yourself fiercely, your heart slamming wildly against your ribs. You are just lonely. You are just emotional because of the breakup, so you are projecting onto your best friend. It’s just the cozy cabin setting making things weird.
"Jungkook," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to pull yourself back to reality.
"Yeah?" he murmured, his eyes dropping to your mouth for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to meet your gaze.
"You're being entirely too smart for a guy who got lost because of three cows," you teased weakly, trying to bring back the safe, funny dynamic before the physical tension completely swallowed you whole.
Jungkook froze for a second, then let out a rich, quiet chuckle, the heavy, romantic spell breaking just enough for both of you to breathe. He didn't let go of your hand, though. He kept his fingers loosely intertwined with yours over the pillows, his warmth keeping you grounded.
"Just admit I’m right. It’ll save us a lot of time." he grumbled playfully, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"You're mildly right," you admitted, a genuine, soft smile finally pulling at your lips as you closed your eyes. "Just a little bit."
"I'll take it," he whispered.
…
The following morning, the mountain storm had completely vanished, leaving behind a crisp, beautifully blue sky. The air smelled of fresh pine and wet earth. After a quick breakfast of slightly burnt toast that Jungkook managed to overcook while trying to do a celebratory dance in the kitchen, you both loaded up the car and drove further south, descending the winding mountain roads toward a historic coastal town known for its gorgeous beaches.
The three-hour drive was filled with more loud music and Jungkook trying to explain the entire deep history of a sci-fi video game with intense hand gestures that almost made him miss an exit, but it kept you laughing the entire way. The heavy, emotional conversation from the night before wasn't mentioned again, but something had fundamentally shifted. Every time his hand brushed yours near the gear shift, or every time he called you sweets with that low, casual roll of his voice, your stomach did a tiny, nervous flip.
It's just the post-breakup rebound brain, you told yourself firmly, staring out at the passing blue ocean. He's just my best friend being a good guy. And you were confident about that feeling.
By the time the afternoon sun was high and baking, you finally arrived at your next stop: a stunning, incredibly luxurious boutique hotel built right on the edge of a massive cliff overlooking the sparkling sea. It looked like a place where millionaires vacationed, complete with a grand marble lobby, high ceilings, and giant floor-to-ceiling glass walls showing off the crashing waves below.
"Wow," Jungkook muttered under his breath, adjusting the strap of his heavy duffel bag as you both walked across the polished floors. "You really went all out on this booking. I feel like I need to apologize to the floor for stepping on it with my sneakers."
"I saved up for six months for this specific stop," you said, pulling out your ID as you walked up to the grand marble front desk. "It was supposed to be the highlight of the trip."
The receptionist, an older woman with a very neat bun and a sharp, elegant uniform, typed into her computer. Her polite smile quickly faltered into a worried frown as she tapped the keyboard a few more times. "Oh, dear. It looks like we have a bit of a major system glitch today. Your reservation for a standard queen room was accidentally cancelled during our server update this morning."
Your stomach instantly dropped. "What? But I already received the confirmation email weeks ago. Is there another standard room?"
"I see that, and I am deeply sorry," the woman explained nicely, looking genuinely apologetic. "The issue is that we are completely booked tonight due to the local seafood festival. The absolute only room we have left available in the entire building is our top-tier Honeymoon Luxury Suite."
You winced, already anticipating the terrible answer. "How much extra is the upgrade fee?"
The receptionist checked her screen. "Normally, it is double the standard price. However, since it was our technical error, our policy allows me to give it to you for a very small, flat fee... if you are actually celebrating an anniversary or a honeymoon. It’s a strict rule for that specific luxury suite because of the promotional packages."
You opened your mouth, completely prepared to tell the truth, admit you were just friends, and accept the depressing fact that you’d probably have to spend the night sleeping in the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car down the street.
But before a single word could leave your lips, Jungkook smoothly stepped forward. Without warning, he slid a heavy, confident arm completely around your waist, yanking you firmly against his side. His grip was incredibly strong, remarkably warm, and shockingly casual, pressing your hip right against his thigh.
"Actually," Jungkook said, his voice dropping into a smooth, deeply charming register that you had never heard him use in his entire life. He looked down at you with an incredibly sweet, star-struck smile that looked terrifyingly real. "It’s our honeymoon. We literally just got married three days ago. Right, sweets?"
Your entire brain completely shutting down. Your eyes went wide with absolute shock, your body freezing under the intense heat of his arm wrapped around you. Jungkook gave your waist a subtle, firm little warning squeeze, his dark eyes pleading with you to just play along with the lie.
"Uh... yes! Absolutely!" you stammered out, forcing a high-pitched, awkward laugh that sounded completely insane to your own ears. "Yes! We are... newlyweds! Just so deeply in love. So much love between us."
The receptionist’s professional face instantly melted into a warm, excited grin. "Oh, congratulations! How absolutely wonderful. In that case, the Honeymoon Suite is officially yours, and I will waive the upgrade fee entirely as a wedding gift from the hotel management."
"Thank you so much, we really appreciate it," Jungkook said, flashing his perfect, white teeth as he took the gold room key card.
The exact millisecond the elevator doors slid shut and you were completely alone, you turned around and slapped his muscular arm hard. "Are you completely out of your mind? What was that?"
Jungkook let out a massive, booming laugh, rubbing his arm where you hit him even though it didn't hurt him at all. His arm dropped away from your waist, and you were deeply annoyed by how suddenly cold your side felt without his hand there.
"Hey! I just saved us a thousand dollars and got us a literal celebrity suite," he said proudly, jiggling the gold key card in front of your nose. "You should be thanking your highly attractive new husband."
"Don't say weird jokes like that," you mumbled, your face burning intensely hot as the elevator shot upward. "We have to keep pretending now. What if the staff sees us in the lobby later? We can't break character."
"Then we just act all lovey-dovey," Jungkook teased, leaning his face down closer to yours with a dramatic, exaggerated pout. "Do you want to practice holding hands right now? I can kiss your cheek if you want to make it look believable for the security cameras."
"Shut up, Jungkook," you laughed, shoving his broad chest away, but your stomach was doing wild, terrifying acrobatics. Touching his chest felt different now—less like a joke and more like an dangerous reminder of how solid he was.
The Honeymoon Suite was completely ridiculous. It was massive, featuring a private outdoor balcony built directly over the crashing waves, a private hot tub, and a giant king bed covered entirely in fresh, bright red rose petals shaped into a giant heart.
"Oh, man," Jungkook laughed, walking over to the bed, scooping up a handful of rose petals, and blowing them into the air like confetti. "They really went full romance mode. Look at this. It's like a movie set."
You walked past him out onto the sunlit balcony, leaning your hands against the stone railing to escape the enclosed space of the room. The view was breathtaking. The endless blue ocean stretched out to the horizon, the waves crashing loudly against the rocks far below. The salty, warm sea breeze blew through your hair, cooling your hot cheeks.
Jungkook walked out a second later, standing right next to you. He rested his muscular forearms on the railing, looking out at the water. In the bright afternoon sunlight, his profile looked incredibly sharp. The wind ruffled his dark hair, and his jawline looked striking.
"It’s really beautiful here," he said softly, turning his head to look at you.
You looked up, meeting his eyes. For a long, quiet moment, his expression wasn't playful or teasing at all. His dark eyes looked deep, intense, and incredibly serious. He stared down at you with a heavy look that made your breath completely catch in your throat.
"Yeah," you whispered, your heart thudding violently against your ribs. You were completely unsure if your brain was talking about the ocean view or the boy standing right next to you. "It really is."
Jungkook quickly cleared his throat, turning his head back to the water, a faint pink color dusting the tips of his ears.
With several hours to kill before dinner, Jungkook decided the beach was calling. He changed into a pair of simple black swim shorts and a loose white t-shirt, while you threw on a casual beach dress over your swimsuit.
The hotel's private beach was a secluded cove of soft, white sand trapped between towering cliffs. The sun was starting its slow descent, painting the sky in warm shades of gold.
"Race you to the water!" Jungkook yelled the second your feet hit the sand, completely shattering the lingering awkwardness from the balcony.
"Hey! No fair, you have longer legs!" you shrieked, running after him as he kicked off his sandals, laughing wildly.
He didn't actually dive into the water; instead, he stopped right at the shoreline, letting the cool, foamy waves lap at his ankles. When you caught up to him, out of breath and laughing, he suddenly scooped up a handful of ocean water and splashed it directly at your legs.
"Jungkook! It’s freezing!" you screamed, instantly splashing him back.
What followed was a full-scale water war. Jungkook took the brunt of your splashes, dramatically throwing his arms up and pretending to be defeated by your attacks, his loud, rich laughter echoing against the cliffs. He was careful not to splash you too hard, always making sure you were having fun.
Eventually, soaked and completely exhausted from laughing, you both collapsed onto a large beach towel you had spread out on the dry sand, just out of reach of the tide. You lay flat on your back, staring up at the golden clouds, your chest rising and falling.
Jungkook propped himself up on his elbow next to you, shaking his wet hair like a puppy, sending a few stray drops of water onto your arm.
"Hey! Watch it!" you complained, giggling as you swatted at him.
"Sorry, sweets," he chuckled, his voice soft. He didn't look away this time. He stayed propped up, his dark eyes tracing the lines of your face as you smiled. The casual use of the nickname didn't feel like a joke anymore. It felt heavy.
"You know," you said quietly, trying to keep the mood light as you stared at the sky. "My ex never wanted to go to the beach. He said sand was too messy and annoying to clean out of the car."
Jungkook let out a small, flat sound from his throat. "Like I said, the guy was a time pass. A real partner doesn't care about a little sand if it means making you laugh."
You turned your head to look at him. He was looking down at you with such an intense, steady warmth that your breath completely caught. He wasn't moving closer, he wasn't overstepping, but the emotional security he was offering you was terrifying.
Your mind instantly went into overdrive. You are just comparing him to your ex because you're hurt, you lectured yourself frantically. Don't read into it. Don't ruin the best friendship you have.
"Well," you whispered, forcing a playful smirk onto your face despite the frantic thumping of your heart. "You're definitely messy, Jeon. Look at your hair."
Jungkook blinked, the intense look dissolving into a goofy crinkle of his eyes as he rubbed his messy, wet locks. "Hey, this is beach style. People pay a lot of money for this look."
You laughed, rolling your eyes, but as you both lay there watching the sun slowly dip toward the horizon, the silence between you felt completely charged. The lines were blurring faster than you could count, and you were running out of excuses to tell your own heart.
…
The golden hue of the sunset had completely melted into a deep, velvety indigo by the time you both made it back upstairs to the Honeymoon Suite. The ocean outside was a dark, roaring shadow beneath the balcony, its rhythm steady and heavy. Inside, the room felt incredibly warm, the scent of the fresh rose petals still hanging thick and sweet in the air.
You were both completely exhausted, your skin radiating that pleasant, slightly tight heat that only comes from a full day under the summer sun and salt water.
"I am so hungry I could actually eat that wooden door frame," Jungkook groaned, throwing himself flat across the giant king bed, entirely unbothered by the fact that he was crushing the neatly arranged heart of rose petals. He splayed his arms and legs out, letting out a long, dramatic sigh into the pillows. "We need food. Immediately. If I don't get protein in the next ten minutes, I am going to wither away into a shadow."
"You're not going to wither away, you dramatic infant," you laughed, walking over to the small desk to pick up the leather-bound room service menu. "Let’s see what they have."
As you flipped through the glossy pages, your eyes widened slightly at the menu options. Because it was a dedicated luxury honeymoon suite, the room service wasn't just standard burgers and fries. Everything was explicitly organized for couples.
"Uh, Jungkook?" you called out, biting your lower lip nervously. "They have a 'Lovers' Seafood Platter' for two, a 'Sweetheart Fondue Share-Box,' and... a complimentary bottle of champagne that comes automatically with any evening dinner order for newlyweds."
Jungkook popped his head up from the pillows, his dark eyes instantly lighting up like a little kid on Christmas morning. "Complimentary champagne? And a giant platter of seafood? Sweets, call them right now. Give them the fake wedding details. Tell them we are absolutely famished from all our deep, eternal newlywed love."
"Jungkook, we are going to get caught," you warned, but a small, bubbly laugh escaped you anyway.
"We won't get caught! We are committed to the bit," he insisted, scrambling off the bed and marching over to you. He leaned his shoulder against yours, looking down at the menu over your arm. He was so close you could feel the physical heat radiating off his chest, still smelling faintly of ocean salt and his clean deodorant. "Look, just put on your best 'happily married' voice. You can do it."
With a deep breath, you picked up the vintage-style room phone and dialed the kitchen. The second the staff answered, Jungkook leaned his head right next to yours, his cheek almost brushing your ear so he could overhear the call, his quiet, bouncy giggles vibrating against your shoulder.
"Hi, yes, we’d like to order the Lovers' Seafood Platter, please," you said, trying desperately to sound mature and sophisticated while Jungkook actively made ridiculous, kissy-faces at you to try and make you crack. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block him out. "Yes, room 402. And... yes, we are the newlyweds from this afternoon. Thank you."
The second you hung up the receiver, you turned around and shoved his chest hard. "You are the absolute worst! I almost choked on my own spit because you were making those stupid faces!"
Jungkook stumbled back a step, laughing that rich, loud, bunny-toothed laugh that always made your chest feel tight. "But you didn't crack! You handled it like a professional liar. I'm proud of you, wifey."
"Stop calling me that," you mumbled, your face instantly flushing a violent, brilliant shade of pink. You quickly turned your back to him, pretending to look out the dark window so he wouldn't see the massive effect his stupid, casual jokes were having on your heart rate.
Thirty minutes later, a loud, polite knock echoed at the heavy wooden door.
"I've got it," Jungkook called out, eagerly jogging over to the entrance.
You sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, smoothing down the edges of your oversized t-shirt. The door opened, and a young hotel waiter rolled in a massive, silver room service cart covered in a white linen tablecloth. On top was an absolute mountain of fresh crab legs, grilled shrimp, oysters, and two glowing candles in glass holders. Resting in a silver bucket of crushed ice was a sweat-beaded bottle of expensive champagne.
"Complimentary champagne for the beautiful newlyweds," the waiter said with a warm, respectful bow, lifting the bottle to pop the cork with a smooth, professional pop. He poured the sparkling liquid into two elegant crystal flutes. "The hotel management hopes your marriage is as beautiful and endless as the ocean view tonight."
"Thank you, man. I appreciate it," Jungkook said smoothly.
Before the waiter could turn to leave, he glanced at the large king bed, noticing the scattered rose petals, and then he looked back at the table. He picked up a small, elegant white box from the lower shelf of the cart—something that hadn't been on the menu.
"And a special, complimentary dessert from our pastry chef," the waiter added, a knowing, slightly playful smile on his face as he placed it right between the candles. "Our signature 'Aphrodite Chocolate Molten Cake.' It is designed to be shared... with only one spoon."
You almost choked on thin air. Your eyes darted to the single, shiny silver spoon resting on top of the box.
"Perfect. My favorite," Jungkook said without skipping a single beat. He reached into his pocket, handed the waiter a very generous cash tip, and bid him a good night.
The second the door clicked shut, the room fell into a heavy, quiet stillness. The two tiny candle flames flickered gently in the draft from the balcony, casting long, dancing shadows across the dark wood walls.
Jungkook walked back over to the cart, looking down at the single spoon, then up at you. The easy, confident swagger he had used with the waiter seemed to evaporate, replaced by a sudden, slightly nervous clear of his throat.
"Well," he said, his voice dropping into a lower, quieter register as he pulled out a chair for you. "The guy said it’s a gift. It would be a crime against the pastry industry to let a chocolate cake go to waste."
"Right," you whispered, standing up on slightly shaky legs and sitting down across from him.
For the first twenty minutes, the food was the perfect distraction. You both cracked open crab legs, argued over who got the biggest grilled shrimp, and drank the bubbly champagne. Jungkook, completely true to form, ended up getting a drop of seafood sauce right on the front of his clean t-shirt, which led to a five-minute bickering match about how he was incapable of eating like a civilized human being.
It was safe. It was loud. It was exactly how you two had always been.
But then, the main platter was cleared away, leaving only the small white box in the center of the table. Jungkook reached out, his large fingers untying the silk ribbon and opening the cardboard flaps.
The dessert was beautiful—a dark, rich chocolate cake dusting with powdered sugar, its center visibly soft and oozing warm, dark chocolate fudge. And there, sitting right next to it, was the single silver spoon.
"Alright," Jungkook said, picking up the utensil. He scooped up a perfectly neat, warm bite of the cake, the rich chocolate dripping slightly. He didn't hand the spoon to you. Instead, he leaned across the small table, his dark, intense eyes locking onto yours as he held the spoon out toward your mouth. "Open up, sweets. Let's see if the chef is actually a professional."
You stared at him, your eyes wide. His large hand was incredibly steady, but you could see a tiny, barely noticeable muscle twitching in his sharp jawline. He wasn't laughing. He wasn't making a goofy face. He was looking at you with a heavy, unblinking intensity that made your entire soul feel exposed.
He’s just playing into the honeymoon joke, you tried to tell your screaming brain. It's just part of the bit.
But as you slowly leaned forward and let him slide the warm, sweet bite into your mouth, the flavor of the rich chocolate was completely overwhelmed by the sheer, terrifying proximity of his body. Your lips brushed lightly against the cold silver of the spoon, and you swore you saw Jungkook’s eyes darken for a fraction of a second, his gaze dropping straight to your mouth before snapping back to your eyes.
"Is it good?" he asked, his voice noticeably rougher, dropping into a quiet, raspy whisper that sent a sharp, electric shiver straight down your spine.
"Yeah," you breathed out, your voice barely audible over the sound of the ocean waves outside. "It’s... really good."
Jungkook didn't pull back immediately. He stayed leaning across the table, his face just inches from yours in the dim, flickering candlelight. The silence stretched between you, heavy and magnetic, pulling you both in like an undertow.
In that single, agonizingly slow second, you didn't think about your ex-boyfriend once. The memory of that eight-month relationship felt like a faint, insignificant shadow from a completely different lifetime. It hadn't been real. It hadn't been deep. It had been a time pass. But this? The wild, chaotic, terrifyingly intense heat roaring through your veins right now as you stared into Jungkook's eyes?
This was real. This was the exact feeling you had been running away from because you were too scared to admit that your best friend had the power to completely destroy your entire world with a single look.
Jungkook slowly pulled the spoon back, his thumb casually wiping away a tiny speck of chocolate from his own knuckle. He didn't take a bite for himself. He just sat back in his chair, his eyes never leaving your face, watching the deep, burning blush completely cover your cheeks.
"Good," he murmured, a small, knowing, and dangerously handsome smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Because we have a lot of cake left to finish."
…
The rich, sweet taste of the chocolate cake stayed in the air long after the silver room service cart had been pushed into the far corner of the suite. The two small candles on the table had burned down a lot. Their tiny, dying flames threw long, moving shadows across the white blanket of the giant king-sized bed.
Inside the room, the air felt completely heavy. The silence was no longer the comfortable, easy quiet of two people who had known each other since they were kids. It was thick, messy, and full of confusion. Every single sound—even the rustle of the curtains—felt entirely too loud.
You felt like you could not breathe. Your chest felt tight, and your brain was spinning out of control. Needing to escape the small room before you completely lost your mind, you stepped out onto the private balcony.
The cold air hit you like a physical shock. The big storm from the night before was completely gone, but the ocean breeze here was much stronger. It carried a sharp, icy chill. The wind blew the dark fabric of Jungkook’s massive black hoodie wildly around your legs. That heavy cotton shirt was the only warm thing you had. Far below the balcony, the dark, ink-like water of the sea slammed violently against the sharp rocks, throwing white sprays of water high into the moonlight.
You gripped the cold stone railing with both hands. Your knuckles turned completely white because you were holding on so tight. You leaned your weight forward, letting the freezing mist hit your face. You desperately wanted the cold air to fix your messy thoughts.
What are you doing? you asked yourself angrily, closing your eyes tight while your heart beat fast and hard against your ribs. He is your best friend. He is Jungkook. He is the guy who has seen you look like a total mess, the guy who used to help you with your high school homework. He is just being extra nice because your ex rejected you. Do not make this weird. If you mess this up, you will lose the only safe person you have left in your life.
But the excuse did not work anymore. It felt like a total lie. The way his dark eyes had looked at you when he fed you that single spoon of chocolate, the sudden, deep roughness in his voice—that was not just friendship. It was not a joke for the hotel staff. It was something heavy, something real, and it terrified you to your core. You were not ready for this. You were still hurting, still confused, and everything was moving way too fast.
The heavy glass sliding door behind you moved with a soft, smooth click.
You did not turn around. You did not need to. The roaring sound of the wind was incredibly loud, but your body knew exactly where he was. The familiar, comforting smell of his clean laundry and the woodsy scent of his cologne cut through the salty air instantly. It wrapped around you before he even said a word.
Jungkook walked up to the stone railing. He did not stand far away from you with a safe gap between your shoulders. Instead, he leaned his large, solid body right next to your elbow. He shifted so he was facing you completely, with his back to the dark ocean.
He had changed out of his wet beach clothes into a clean, soft white tank top and loose gray sweatpants. In the bright, clear light of the full moon, he looked completely different. The cool light showed the sharp lines of his broad shoulders, his heavy chest, and the dark tattoos wrapping all the way down his right arm. He looked so big, so real, and so grown-up.
He did not speak right away. He just stood there, his dark, heavy eyes locked onto the side of your face, watching the wind pull your hair across your cheeks. The silence stretched between you for a long, painful minute. It was full of a sad, heavy ache.
"You're hiding out here," he said quietly. His voice was not loud, and he was not smiling. The playful, goofy tone he always used was completely gone. It was low, deep, and steady.
"I am not hiding," you lied immediately. Your voice sounded small and shaky. You stubbornly kept your eyes fixed on a distant white wave out in the dark sea, completely refusing to look up at him. "I'm just looking at the water. It’s a nice view. I just wanted some fresh air."
"Sweets."
The low roll of the nickname made your stomach do a painful, panicked flip. Before you could step back or run away, Jungkook reached out. His large, warm hand gently cupped the side of your neck. His long fingers wrapped slightly around the back of your neck, and his thumb rested firmly against your jawline. The heat of his palm felt like fire against your cold skin. It sent a sharp, electric shiver straight up your spine.
Gently, but with a firm strength that you could not fight, he tilted your face up. He forced you to look away from the ocean until you had no choice but to look straight into his dark eyes.
"You've been avoiding my eyes since we ate," he said softly, his gaze searching your face with a sad, deep intensity. "Your hands are shaking. And it's not because of the cold wind."
Your breath completely caught in your throat. Up close, you could see the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. You could see a tiny, serious twitch in his jaw. He was looking at you with so much raw emotion that it made you feel completely naked.
"Jungkook, don't," you whispered. Tears of pure stress and confusion started to fill your eyes. Your hands came up instinctively, pressing against his solid chest to try and push him away, but your fingers just ended up gripping his tight tank top. "Please don't do this. We need to stop. We are just playing a game for the hotel room. We need to stop making these jokes. It’s getting way too complicated. I can't handle it."
"Do you really think I’m joking?" he asked.
The question was so quiet, and so deeply sad, that it felt like the entire world stopped moving. The loud sound of the crashing waves below seemed to disappear.
Jungkook stepped even closer, his large, broad body completely blocking the freezing sea wind from hitting you. He trapped you between his big frame and the stone railing. He let his hand drop from your jawline, but he did not move away. Instead, he slid both of his large hands down to grip your waist. His fingers dug firmly into the thick fabric of his own oversized hoodie that you were wearing.
He looked down at you, his chest rising and falling with a deep, heavy breath.
"I haven't been joking once on this entire trip," Jungkook confessed, his voice dropping into a rough whisper. "I wasn't joking when I rolled you into a blanket burrito just to see you smile. I wasn't joking when I told that woman at the desk you were my wife. And I definitely wasn't joking when we were inside that room just now."
"Jungkook, please stop," you sobbed out, a sudden wave of heavy panic and grief hitting your chest. A single, hot tear ran down your cold cheek. "You don't understand. I just broke up with someone two days ago! My brain is completely broken right now. I am a total mess. I am lonely, and my pride hurts, and everything hurts. I am just projecting these weird feelings onto you because you are here, because you are safe—"
"I don't care about him," Jungkook cut you off. His voice was not angry, but it had a fierce, heavy certainty that made your words completely drop to the floor. He squeezed your waist slightly, his thumb moving gently against your hip. "I told you, sweets. That guy was a time pass. You didn't love him. You never looked at him the way a person looks at someone they actually want to keep. You are crying because you hate being rejected, not because you miss him."
You stared at him, your lips parted, your mind completely stunned by how well he knew you.
"The only reason I stayed back and let you date him for months without saying a single word was because I was a coward," Jungkook whispered, his dark eyes dropping to your mouth for a second before snapping back up to yours. "I was terrified that if I told you the truth, if I told you that I love you, you’d get scared. I thought you would run away from me, and the thought of losing you completely was something I could not survive."
He took another deep, shaky breath. His big shoulders dropped as if he was finally letting go of a massive secret he had carried for years.
"But then I had to sit in my apartment and listen to you sob at two in the morning over a guy who didn't even care about you," he murmured, his voice cracking with real pain. "I had to watch you ruin your own happiness over a relationship that was just a boring habit. It almost drove me crazy, sweets. I can't do it anymore. I can't keep standing here pretending that you're just my buddy. I haven't looked at you like a friend in three years."
The words hit you like a physical blow to the chest.
Three years.
While you were just living your life, going on boring dates, and staying in a relationship out of pure habit, Jungkook had been standing right next to you, holding his breath, guarding his heart, and waiting for you to see him. Every single memory you had with him over the last few years—the late-night drives, the way he always brought you your favorite snacks, the way he would drop everything to come fix things in your apartment—suddenly felt completely different.
It was never just "best friend" behavior. It was real, deep, and unconditional love.
But instead of feeling happy, a massive wave of anxiety washed over you. You felt sick to your stomach. It felt too heavy. You were raw from a breakup, your life was upside down, and now your best friend—the only anchor you had left—was changing all the rules.
"Jungkook, I can't," you whispered, more tears blurring your eyes. You felt so small beneath his steady gaze. You shook your head, pulling your hands back to your own chest. "It’s too much. I'm too messed up right now. I don't know what I feel. I don't know if I'm just lonely or if I'm losing my mind. I can't give you an answer. I can't promise you anything. If I ruin this, if I ruin us, I will have nobody left."
You covered your face with your hands, your shoulders shaking as you let out a real, heavy sob. The fear in your chest was completely crushing you. You were so terrified of losing his friendship that the thought of romance felt like a dangerous trap.
Seeing your complete panic and distress, the intense look in Jungkook's eyes instantly melted away. The large, muscular guy who looked so intimidating a second ago suddenly looked incredibly soft and gentle. He realized he was pushing you too hard when you were already broken.
He immediately let go of your waist. He did not pull away completely, but he took away the pressure. He raised his large hands and gently, carefully pulled your wrists away from your face. His touch was so light, like he was handling fragile glass.
"Hey, hey. Look at me, sweets. Breathe," he murmured softly, his voice full of total warmth and comfort. He shifted closer, leaning his head down until his forehead was resting gently against yours again. He closed his eyes, letting you feel the steady, warm rhythm of his breath. "Look at me. I'm sorry. I pushed too hard."
You stayed frozen, your forehead pressed against his, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
"I know your head is spinning," Jungkook whispered into the tiny space between your faces. He took one of his large hands and gently rubbed the back of your head, soothing you. "I know you just went through a breakup and you are scared. I know you're worried about ruining what we have. Hear me clearly, okay? You don't have to give me an answer tonight. You don't have to figure anything out."
He opened his eyes, staring directly into yours from inches away. His gaze was completely patient, with zero pressure.
"I don't need you to be perfect, and I don't need you to magically fall into my arms right now," he said softly, his voice ringing with absolute honesty. "I just need you to be yourself. Take all the time you need. If you need to cry about that idiot for another week, cry. If you need to just be confused, be confused. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve waited three years, sweets. I can wait a little longer."
You let out a long, shaky breath, the heavy panic in your chest slowly starting to ease. You let your head slide down from his forehead until it rested against his broad, warm shoulder. The tight, painful knot of anxiety and loneliness that had been sitting in your chest finally started to relax.
He was not forcing you to choose. He was not giving you an ultimatum. Even when he confessed his deepest feelings, his main priority was still making sure you were okay.
Jungkook let out a massive, long sigh of pure relief when he felt you relax against him. His large arms moved securely around your back, pulling your body completely against his chest. He did not hold you tight enough to scare you, but he held you close enough to let you know he was there. He rested his chin gently on top of your messy hair while the waves crashed loudly against the cliffs below.
You still did not know what the future held. You were still confused, still a bit sad, and still terrified of the new feelings blooming in your chest. But looking out into the dark, moonlit night, completely wrapped in his safe warmth, you realized you did not have to have it all figured out today. Jungkook was going to hold you until you did.
.,.
The blinding golden light of the morning sun cut straight through the floor-to-ceiling glass doors of the balcony, hitting your face and waking you up. You winced, shifting your face deeper into the pillow to escape the bright glare. Your eyes felt incredibly heavy, a bit dry and swollen from the heavy crying session on the balcony the night before.
For a few peaceful seconds, your brain was completely blank. You just felt the incredible softness of the hotel sheets and the heavy, comforting warmth of the massive king bed.
But then, the memories of the previous night came rushing back like a tidal wave, slamming straight into your chest.
Jungkook's hands on your waist. The rough, low whisper of his voice. The confession. Three years.
Your eyes snapped wide open. Your heart gave a violent, sudden thud against your ribs. You turned your head so fast your neck cracked, looking at the space right next to you on the mattress.
It was empty.
The white comforter on his side of the bed was messy and tossed aside, the spot long since cooled down. The fortress of pillows you had neatly stacked down the center of the mattress was completely destroyed, scattered across the floor like the remains of a battlefield.
A sudden, sharp wave of anxiety hit your stomach. Did he leave? Was it too awkward? Did he regret saying all of those things? You scrambled out of the bed, your legs tangling in the sheets for a second as you stood up. You were still wearing his massive black hoodie, the fabric smelling entirely like him.
"Jungkook?" you called out, your voice sounding rough and raspy from sleep.
The heavy bathroom door swung open instantly.
Jungkook stepped out into the bright bedroom, a cloud of warm, minty steam billowing out behind him. He had clearly just brushed his teeth and washed his face. He was wearing his gray sweatpants and a fresh, plain black t-shirt. His dark hair was slightly damp, sticking to his forehead in messy, boyish curls.
The second his dark eyes locked onto you, he froze right by the door frame.
The air in the room instantly grew thick and quiet. The easy, brainless routine of your old friendship felt like it was hanging by a thread. You stood by the edge of the bed, your fingers nervously pulling at the long sleeves of his hoodie, your mind racing a million miles an hour. You didn't know how to look at him. You didn't know if you should mention the balcony, or if you should pretend it was all a dream.
Jungkook analyzed your tense, rigid posture, his eyes scanning your wide, anxious eyes. A tiny, incredibly gentle look softened his sharp features. He didn't look awkward, and he didn't look regretful. He just looked patient.
He took three slow, heavy steps toward you, stopping just a few feet away so he wouldn't crowd you. He raised a hand, scratching the back of his neck, and let out a small, familiar high-pitched giggle to break the heavy silence.
"Morning, sweets," he said softly. His voice had that rough, sleepy gravel to it. "You look like you just saw a ghost. Or worse, you look like you think I’m about to force you to eat more radioactive sausages."
A tiny, involuntary laugh snorted out of your nose before you could stop it. The thick, suffocating tension in your chest cracked just a little bit, letting you breathe.
"I'm just... I'm a bit tired," you mumbled, looking down at your bare feet on the carpet. "I didn't think you'd be up so early."
"Couldn't sleep much," Jungkook admitted honestly. He didn't lie to make it easy. He stepped a tiny bit closer, his large shadow falling over you. He reached out, his warm fingers gently tapping the top of your head. "Hey. Look at me."
You slowly raised your eyes, meeting his clear, steady gaze.
"Remember what I told you last night before we went to sleep?" he asked, his tone incredibly grounded. "No pressure. Nothing changes unless you want it to. I'm still just Jungkook. I'm still the guy who is going to eat all your snacks and drive you across the country. You don't need to be weird around me."
You looked at his familiar, comforting face, and the lingering panic in your stomach finally dissolved into dust. He was giving you exactly what he promised: space to just breathe and be yourself.
"Okay," you whispered, a genuine, small smile touching your lips. "Okay."
"Good," Jungkook beamed, his massive bunny-toothed grin returning in full force, completely changing the energy of the room back to bright sunshine. "Because I ordered breakfast, and if you don't hurry up and wash your face, I am going to eat every single strip of bacon on that cart. I mean it. I’m already eyeing the plate."
An hour later, you were both back in the car, leaving the luxury hotel behind and hitting the coastal highway once again. The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, and the ocean sparkled like diamonds to your right.
The dynamic inside the car felt different now. The thick, heavy angst of the night before had settled into a quiet, warm hum. It wasn't the old platonic friendship, but it wasn't a rushed romance either. It was a comfortable middle ground.
Jungkook was driving with one hand on the wheel, his left arm resting on the open window frame, letting the warm summer breeze ruffle his hair. He had a playlist of soft, classic rock music playing at a reasonable volume—a compromise he made so you wouldn't complain about his 2012 girl-pop anthems.
You sat in the passenger seat, your legs curled up under you, staring at his profile. Your mind was wandering, processing everything he had said.
Three years.
You thought back to last summer, when you had first started talking to your ex. You remembered telling Jungkook about the first date. You remembered how Jungkook had gone strangely quiet for a few days, throwing himself into his gym workouts until his knuckles were raw. At the time, you thought he was just busy with work. Now, the memory made your heart ache with a deep, bittersweet pain. He had been suffering in silence, watching you walk into a relationship that wasn't even deep or real, just to keep you in his life.
"If you stare at me any harder, you're going to burn a hole right through my cheek," Jungkook said suddenly, not taking his eyes off the road but a smug, handsome smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
You jumped slightly, your cheeks instantly turning a light shade of pink. "I wasn't staring at you. Don't flatter yourself, Jeon."
"You were totally staring," he chuckled, his voice rich and happy. "It's fine. I don't blame you. The lighting today really highlights my jawline. I look like a model in this rearview mirror."
"You look like a giant dork," you rolled your eyes, grabbing a handful of sour gummy worms from the convenience store bag and tossing one directly at his shoulder.
He caught the candy with his right hand, tossing it into his mouth with a laugh. "Hey, watch the cargo! This is fuel for the captain."
As the hours passed, you noticed that while Jungkook was keeping his promise of not pushing you for answers, his behavior had subtly changed. He wasn't hiding his feelings anymore. The small boundaries he used to maintain were completely gone.
When you stopped at a scenic overlook to see the massive cliffs cutting into the ocean, the path was steep and covered in loose gravel. In the past, he would have just walked ahead, teasing you for being slow. But today, the second your sneaker slipped slightly on a rock, Jungkook’s large, warm hand was there.
He didn't just stabilize you; he locked his long fingers securely with yours, his grip firm and burning hot against your skin.
"The ground is messy here. Hold on," he said casually, his voice steady as he guided you down the path.
Your heart gave a massive, violent thud against your ribs. Your fingers felt incredibly small tangled up in his large, calloused hand. You looked down at your joined hands, your breath catching. You waited for him to let go once you reached the flat wooden viewing deck, but he didn't. He kept his fingers loosely, comfortably intertwined with yours as you both stood by the wooden railing, looking out at the endless blue horizon.
It felt entirely natural, yet completely terrifying. It felt like a glimpse into a reality where you were completely taken care of, completely valued.
You glanced up at him. Jungkook was looking out at the water, the bright sun highlighting the strong bridge of his nose and his sharp jaw. He wasn't looking at you to see your reaction. He was just holding your hand because he wanted to, because he finally could.
"My ex hated stops like this," you whispered quietly, the thought slipping out of your mouth before you could stop it. The sorrow of the past relationship was still lingering like a faint shadow, a habit you were trying to break. "He always said if we stop every thirty miles, we'll never make it to the destination on time. He hated wasting minutes."
Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightened just a fraction, a reassuring, heavy squeeze. He didn't turn his head, but his voice dropped into that low, serious register that made your soul quiet down.
"The destination doesn't matter if you're rushing through the whole journey, sweets," he said softly. "The whole point of a road trip is to look at the views. If a guy is too busy looking at his watch to enjoy standing next to you at a place like this... he’s missing the entire point of living."
You stared at his profile, your eyes widening slightly as his words cut straight through your lingering self-doubt. The realization hit you with a massive, undeniable weight. Your ex hadn't just been a "time pass"—he had been a completely wrong fit. You had been trying to force your vibrant, messy life into a tiny, rigid box for eight months. And right next to you, the entire time, was a boy who was willing to stop at every single scenic overlook just to hold your hand and watch the wind blow through your hair.
The fear of ruining the friendship was still there, a tiny, nervous flutter in your stomach. But looking at your joined hands, the warmth spreading up your arm, you felt a new, quiet feeling starting to bloom. It was a small spark of hope.
By the time the afternoon began to fade into a soft, hazy orange sunset, you arrived at the final destination of the road trip: a sleepy, beautiful beach town famous for its outdoor night markets and boardwalks.
The hotel this time was a small, cozy motel right on the beach front. And thankfully, the booking system worked perfectly. You had a room with two separate queen-sized beds, separated by a wide, safe nightstand.
"See? No single-bed drama tonight," you joked, throwing your small backpack onto the bed closest to the window. "You're safe from my blanket-stealing crimes."
Jungkook dropped his heavy black duffel bag onto the opposite bed, leaning his hips against the mattress as he looked over at you. The golden light of the sunset filtered through the window blinds, casting long amber stripes across his face.
"Honestly? I'm kind of disappointed," he teased, a playful, wicked glint in his dark eyes. "The pillow fortress from last night had character. It was an excellent defensive structure."
"You are ridiculous," you laughed, grabbing a fresh change of clothes from your suitcase. "I'm going to change, and then we are going to that boardwalk market. I want fried food and I want it now."
"Your wish is my command, sweets," he chuckled, bowing dramatically as you walked into the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, you emerged wearing a simple white sundress and denim jacket, your hair tied up into a loose, messy bun. Jungkook had changed into a clean, oversized vintage t-shirt and dark shorts. He looked completely relaxed, entirely handsome, and totally ready to cause chaos at the night market.
The boardwalk was alive with energy. Bright neon lights from the game booths reflected off the dark ocean water, and the air was thick with the delicious, mouth-watering smell of fried funnel cakes, hot churros, and grilled skewers. Music from the old carousel echoed through the crowd, mixed with the loud laughter of families and couples walking along the wooden planks.
"Alright, first stop," Jungkook declared, grabbing your wrist and dragging you straight toward a stall with a giant sign that read Fried Everything. "We are getting the giant funnel cake with extra powdered sugar. No arguments."
"I would never argue against sugar, Jeon," you said, matching his fast pace.
You spent the next hour walking through the crowds, completely stuffing your faces with junk food. Jungkook ended up getting powdered sugar all over the front of his black t-shirt within two minutes, which led to you standing in the middle of the boardwalk, giggling uncontrollably as you used a wet napkin to wipe his chest down while he whined about his ruined style.
As you wiped the white powder away, your hand brushed against the firm, warm muscle of his chest, right over his beating heart. You froze for a split second, your eyes lifting to meet his. Jungkook was looking down at you, his breathing a little shallow, his dark eyes intensely focused on your hands against his shirt.
The bustling noise of the night market seemed to blur away for that tiny second, leaving just the heavy, magnetic heat between you. You quickly pulled your hand back, clearing your throat nervously as you tossed the napkin into a nearby bin.
"There. You're clean," you whispered, your heart doing that familiar, frantic dance.
"Thanks," he murmured, his voice low.
To break the sudden, thick tension, Jungkook quickly pointed a finger at a massive game booth down the boardwalk. The booth was filled with giant, oversized stuffed animals, and a loud announcer was challenging people to hit a target with a baseball.
"Look at that giant purple plush bunny," Jungkook said, his eyes narrowing like a professional athlete entering an arena. "It looks exactly like me. I need to win it for you."
"Jungkook, those games are completely rigged," you laughed, trying to pull him back. "The balls are weighted, and the targets are tiny. You're just going to waste your money."
"Are you doubting my athletic abilities?" He gasped dramatically, slapping a hand over his heart. "Excuse me? I have perfect aim. Watch and learn, sweets."
He marched straight up to the booth, pulling out his wallet and paying the announcer for three throws. A small crowd of teenagers stopped to watch, noticing how big and focused Jungkook looked as he picked up the first wooden baseball.
He balanced his weight, his broad shoulders flexing beneath his t-shirt as he drew his arm back. With a sudden, lightning-fast motion, he threw the ball.
CRASH.
The ball hit the center target perfectly, the loud sound echoing across the boardwalk. The crowd let out a small cheer. Jungkook didn't even smile; he just picked up the second ball, his expression completely serious, his eyes locked onto the prize. He threw it again.
CRASH.
The second target shattered down. The announcer looked genuinely shocked. By the time Jungkook threw the third ball, hitting the final target dead-center, the entire booth area erupted into loud cheers and applause.
Jungkook finally relaxed, turning his head toward you with a massive, arrogant, and entirely endearing smirk. He puffed his chest out dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows. "Rigged? Please. The targets never stood a chance against the Jeon precision."
The announcer grumbled, reaching up to the high ceiling to pull down the massive, giant purple plush bunny. It was almost as big as you were, incredibly soft and completely ridiculous. He dumped it into Jungkook’s arms.
Jungkook carried the giant bunny over to you, struggling to see over the massive plush head. He shoved the giant toy into your arms, wrapping your hands around the soft fabric.
"Here," he said, his voice instantly softening as he looked down at you. The arrogant game-winner energy vanished, replaced by that quiet, deep warmth that always made your knees weak. "A line of defense for your bed tonight. Since we don't have the pillow fortress anymore."
You gripped the massive, soft bunny against your chest, burying your face in the purple faux fur for a second to hide the massive, completely overwhelmed smile pulling at your lips. The fear, the ghost of your ex-boyfriend—everything was completely losing its grip on you. Standing under the bright neon lights of the boardwalk, holding a giant prize won by the boy who had loved you silently for three years, you realized your heart was no longer breaking.
It was healing. And it was healing fast.
"Thank you, Jungkook," you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes.
Jungkook reached out, his large, warm hand gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering against your cheek for a single, beautiful second. "Anytime, sweets. Anytime."
…
The giant purple plush bunny was entirely too massive. As you both walked away from the noisy game booth, you had to hold the heavy toy with both arms just to keep it from dragging across the sticky wooden planks of the boardwalk. Jungkook walked right beside you, his hands shoved casually into his shorts pockets, a smug and completely satisfied smile resting on his face. Every time a group of teenagers walked past and stared at the ridiculous size of your prize, he would puff his broad chest out just a little bit more.
"You are going to develop a permanent posture problem if you keep walking like that," you teased, nudging his arm with the side of the giant stuffed ear.
"I am walking with the swagger of a champion," Jungkook corrected smoothly, his voice full of rich, bouncy laughter. "Do you know how hard it is to hit three targets in a row with weighted baseballs? The announcer looked like he wanted to cry when he had to hand that bunny over. I basically pulled off a heist."
"You spent fifteen dollars on a toy that probably cost two dollars to make," you retorted, though you couldn't stop the massive, happy smile from taking over your face.
"Money is temporary, sweets. But the glory of winning a giant purple defense system for your bedroom? That is eternal," he chuckled, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you.
The night market was starting to slow down as the clock moved past eleven. The heavy crowds of families were thinning out, leaving behind mostly young couples walking hand-in-hand beneath the glowing strands of yellow fairy lights. The salty sea breeze was picking up again, bringing the loud, rhythmic sound of the dark waves crashing against the wooden pillars beneath the boardwalk.
At the very end of the pier, towering over the edge of the water, sat the grand finale of the beach town: a massive, old-fashioned Ferris wheel. Its neon lights were a beautiful mix of soft pinks, deep blues, and warm golds, spinning slowly against the dark velvet sky.
Jungkook stopped walking, his eyes tracking the slow rotation of the giant wheel. He turned his head to look at you, his expression softening as the multi-colored lights danced across his sharp jawline.
"We have one more stop before we go back to the motel," he said softly, pointing a finger toward the ticket booth of the ride. "Come on."
"Jungkook, it’s late," you murmured, a sudden, familiar flutter of nervous anxiety hitting your stomach. "And I’m carrying a stuffed animal the size of a refrigerator. We won't even fit in the bucket."
"We will make it fit," he insisted, not taking no for an answer. He reached out, his large, warm hand wrapping firmly around your wrist to gently drag you toward the line.
Five minutes later, you were officially crammed into a small, swinging metal carriage. Jungkook’s prediction had been slightly wrong—the space was incredibly tight. The giant purple bunny had to be stuffed vertically between your knees, its massive plush head completely blocking the view to your left. Because the toy took up more than half the bench, you and Jungkook were forced to sit completely flush against each other on the remaining side.
His muscular thigh was pressed tightly against yours, the heat of his skin burning right through his shorts. His broad shoulder was tucked firmly beneath your own, his large frame completely surrounding you in the small metal car.
A loud, metallic clunk echoed through the air as the ride operator locked the safety bar into place. With a slow, jerky shudder, the Ferris wheel began to lift you up into the night.
As the carriage climbed higher and higher, the noisy sounds of the boardwalk games and the shouting announcers began to fade away into a quiet, distant hum. The view expanded infinitely. To your right, the tiny neon lights of the beach town looked like scattered jewels on black velvet. To your left, the endless, dark ocean stretched out into the horizon, reflecting the bright silver light of the full moon.
You leaned your head slightly against the cold metal mesh of the carriage, letting out a long, quiet breath. The beauty of the view was breathtaking, but your brain was completely unable to focus on it. You were entirely, terrifyingly aware of Jungkook’s breathing right next to you. You could feel the steady, heavy rise and fall of his chest against your shoulder, the faint, comforting scent of his woodsy cologne completely trapped inside the small space.
The carriage suddenly groaned, stopping dead right at the very top of the wheel. You were suspended hundreds of feet in the air, dangling directly over the crashing black waves below.
The silence up here was absolute. The wind blew softly through the open sides of the car, rattling the metal chains above your head.
"Are you scared of heights?" Jungkook’s voice cut through the quiet. It wasn't his loud, teasing voice anymore. It was low, rough, and incredibly gentle, dropping into that serious register that always made your knees feel weak.
You turned your head to look at him. Because of how tightly you were crammed together, his face was only inches from yours. The soft, rotating neon pink light from the wheel lit up his features, catching the dark depth of his eyes and the slight, nervous parted line of his lips. He was staring directly at you, completely ignoring the beautiful ocean view behind your head.
"A little bit," you whispered honestly, your throat feeling suddenly dry. "It feels like we're just dangling in the middle of nowhere."
Jungkook didn't say a word. Instead, he slowly shifted his right hand from his lap. His large, warm fingers slipped down the side of the seat, sliding directly over yours. He didn't just hold your hand loosely this time. He slid his long fingers between yours, locking them together in a tight, heavy grip that felt incredibly secure. His palm was burning hot against your cold skin.
"I’ve got you," he murmured, his dark eyes never leaving your face. "You're not going to fall, sweets. I won't let you."
Your heart gave a violent, massive thud against your ribs. The confusion that had been swirling in your head for the last three days suddenly tightened into a painful, beautiful knot right in the center of your chest.
You looked down at your joined hands resting on top of the purple plush fabric of the toy. His hand was so much larger than yours, his veins showing slightly against the back of his skin, his grip holding you like you were the most precious thing in the entire universe.
"Jungkook," you said softly, your voice trembling a little as the heavy emotion threatened to spill over. "I'm sorry."
Jungkook tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. "Sorry for what?"
"For being so messy," you whispered, looking up to meet his eyes through the dim pink light. "For making you drive me across the country while I cried over a guy I didn't even care about. For being so confused and scared right now. You’ve been waiting for three years... and I feel like I'm ruining everything because I don't know how to fix my own head yet."
The heavy silence returned, hanging between you as the wind blew past the carriage.
Jungkook stared at you for a long, unblinking moment. The patience in his eyes was so deep it made your chest ache. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his left hand from the safety bar. He reached across the small space, his large thumb gently pressing against your chin, tilting your face just a fraction closer to his. His touch was incredibly soft, completely devoid of his usual clumsy energy.
"Look at me," he commanded softly.
You looked, your eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears.
"You are not ruining anything," Jungkook said, his voice ringing with absolute, unshakable certainty. "I told you last night on the balcony, and I mean it. I don't need you to have a perfect, healed brain right now. I don't need you to give me an anniversary date or a promise. I am here because I want to be here. I am holding your hand because it’s the only place I’ve wanted my hand to be for three years."
He took a deep, heavy breath, his chest brushing slightly against your arm as he leaned in just a millimeter closer.
"The last three days haven't been a burden to me, sweets," he whispered, his gaze dropping to your lips for a single, torturous second before snapping back to your eyes. "Watching you finally realize that you deserve better than a guy who treats you like a chore? Watching you laugh until your stomach hurts on the highway? That is the best thing that has happened to me in years. You are not a mess to me. You are just you."
A single, hot tear finally slipped out of your eye, running down your cheek. Jungkook didn't hesitate. He used the pad of his thumb to gently wipe the moisture away, his skin lingering against your cheekbone, his touch leaving a trail of absolute fire behind.
"So stop apologizing," he murmured, his voice dropping into a rough, raspy register that sent a violent shiver straight down your spine. "Take all the time you need to figure things out. Cry if you need to. Be scared if you need to. But don't you dare think you are ruining us. We are completely fine."
You stared at him, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The lingering memory of your ex-boyfriend, the eight months of that empty, boring relationship out of habit—it completely dissolved into nothingness. It didn't exist anymore. The only reality that mattered was the boy sitting inches from you at the top of the world, holding your hand like a lifeline and offering you a love so deep it completely terrified you.
You didn't know what to say. The fear of ruining the friendship were still humming quietly in the back of your mind, but the sheer emotional safety he was giving you was completely overwhelming the doubt. Slowly, without thinking, you let your head lean sideways, resting your cheek gently against his broad, solid shoulder.
Jungkook stiffened for a fraction of a second, completely caught off guard by your sudden movement. Then, a long, heavy sigh of absolute relief escaped his lips. He shifted his arm, wrapping it securely around your shoulders, pulling you completely against his side as the Ferris wheel finally shuddered and began its slow descent back toward the earth.
He didn't press for more. He didn't try to kiss you. He just held you tight against his chest, his large hand still firmly locked with yours on top of the giant purple bunny.
…
The quiet of the motel room felt completely different from the loud, bright chaos of the boardwalk. When Jungkook clicked the heavy lock of the door into place, the sudden silence was deafening. The only sound was the low, steady hum of the old air conditioning unit beneath the window and the distant, muffled crash of the ocean waves against the sand outside.
The room was basic and cozy, illuminated only by the amber glow of a single streetlamp filtering through the plastic window blinds. Two queen-sized beds stood side-by-side, separated by a wide, dark wooden nightstand that felt like a physical boundary between your old life and whatever was happening now.
You walked over to the bed closest to the window, carefully lifting the massive purple plush bunny and sitting it upright against the headboard. It looked completely ridiculous under the dim light, its giant ears flopping forward as if it were guarding the mattress.
"Well," you said, your voice sounding incredibly small in the quiet room. "The fortress is officially in place."
Jungkook chuckled softly, dropping his heavy black duffel bag onto his own mattress with a dull thud. He stood by the edge of his bed, hands resting on his hips as his dark eyes locked onto you. The playful, confident guy from the boardwalk was gone, replaced by the quiet, intensely patient man from the Ferris wheel.
"I'm going to change into something comfortable. Don't eat all the sour worms while I'm gone."
"No promises, sweets," he teased, though his eyes stayed fixed on your face until you closed the bathroom door behind you.
Inside the small, brightly lit bathroom, you leaned against the sink and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were still flushed from the cold sea wind, and your eyes looked bright—no longer heavy with the messy tears of a painful breakup, but wide with a quiet, lingering shock. You touched your fingers to your chin, right where his large, warm thumb had rested just twenty minutes ago at the top of the Ferris wheel.
He loved you. He had loved you for three long years, through every boring date, every casual conversation, and every single time you had complained about your empty relationship. He had stood right next to you, holding his breath, just waiting for you to see him.
You let out a long, shaky breath, quickly changing into a pair of soft gray sweatpants and a loose, oversized t-shirt. By the time you turned off the bathroom light and stepped back into the bedroom, Jungkook had already changed into his favorite soft black sweatpants and was lying flat on his back on his own bed. He had his arms tucked behind his head, his dark eyes staring blankly at the popcorn texture of the ceiling.
The room was completely dark now, saved only by the thin stripes of amber light cutting across the carpet from the window.
You silently crawled under the crisp white sheets of your own bed, pulling the heavy comforter up to your chin. You turned your body onto your side, facing his direction, your eyes adjusting to the shadows.
For a long time, neither of you said a word. The silence stretched out until the ticking of the small digital clock on the nightstand felt like a countdown.
"Sweets?" Jungkook’s voice suddenly broke the quiet. It was barely a whisper, rough and incredibly raw, cutting through the hum of the air conditioner.
"Yeah?" you replied instantly, your heart giving a small, nervous skip.
You saw his silhouette shift in the dark. Jungkook turned his heavy frame onto his side, propping his head up with his right hand, facing you. In the dim light, you could see the dark, serious outline of his features and the glint of the moonlight reflecting in his wide pupils.
"Are you still thinking about him?" he asked quietly. There was no jealousy in his tone, no anger. It was just a question born out of pure, unprotected vulnerability. He sounded entirely human, entirely stripped of his usual confident armor.
You stared at him through the shadows, your fingers tightly gripping the edge of your blanket. You thought about your ex. You tried to find the familiar, sharp ache of rejection that had crushed you just three days ago in your apartment. But when you searched your mind, there was nothing left but an empty, hollow memory. The ghost of that relationship had completely vanished, replaced entirely by the warmth of Jungkook’s large hand holding yours against the dark ocean sky.
"No," you whispered honestly, the truth feeling like a massive weight lifting off your chest. "I'm not thinking about him at all. I haven't thought about him since we got on the highway today."
Jungkook let out a long, slow breath in the dark, his broad shoulders visibly relaxing against the mattress. "Good. Because he didn't deserve a single one of your thoughts anyway."
A small, bittersweet ache filled your chest as you watched him. "Jungkook... how did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Three years," you murmured, your voice cracking slightly with a sudden wave of heavy emotion. "How did you sit across from me at dinner, or watch movies with me on my couch, while I was completely blind? How did you manage to just stay my friend without letting it ruin you?"
Jungkook was quiet for a long, agonizing minute. The only sound was the distant crash of the waves outside. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, rougher, and thick with an honesty that made your throat tighten.
"It was hard," he confessed softly, his eyes never leaving yours through the dark space between the beds. "The first few months were the worst. Every time you talked about a guy you met at a coffee shop, or every time you got dressed up to go on a first date, I used to go back to my apartment and just stare at my phone, hating myself for being too scared to speak up."
He shifted slightly, his long fingers mindlessly tracing a pattern against his own pillowcase.
"But then I realized something," he whispered, his tone dropping into a deeply tender register. "Being just your friend, being the guy who got to hear your voice at two in the morning when you couldn't sleep, or the guy who got to make you laugh when you had a bad day at work... that was still better than anything else in my life. I was terrified that if I pushed you, if I told you that I wanted to hold you and kiss you, you'd get uncomfortable. You'd pull away. And the idea of a world where you don't talk to me? That was a thousand times worse than the pain of keeping it a secret."
The weight of his devotion hit you like a physical wave. Tears of pure, overwhelming emotion welled up in your eyes, blurring the sight of his silhouette in the dark. While you had been settling for a casual, empty relationship out of pure habit, Jungkook had been quietly, fiercely protecting your bond, placing your comfort entirely above his own heart.
"I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner," you choked out, a single tear escaping and dampening your pillow. "I'm sorry I was so stupid."
"Hey," Jungkook murmured instantly, his tone shifting into that urgent, protective warmth. He sat up completely, swinging his long legs over the edge of his bed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring across the wide gap at you. "Don't say that. I didn't tell you all of this to make you feel guilty, sweets. I told you because I wanted you to understand that you are worth the wait. Every single second of it."
You stared up at him from your pillow, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. The physical distance between the two queen beds suddenly felt entirely too far. The old rules of your friendship, the safe boundaries you had lived behind for years, felt like paper walls ready to burn down. You didn't want the wide nightstand separating you tonight. You didn't want to be alone with the lingering anxiety of the past. You just wanted his warmth. You wanted his safety.
Slowly, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, you lifted the heavy comforter and sat up.
Jungkook froze, his dark eyes tracking your movements in the shadows as you slid out from beneath your sheets. Your bare feet hit the cold carpet. Without saying a word, you walked across the narrow space separating the two beds, stopping right in front of him.
He looked up at you, his chest rising and falling heavily, his sharp jaw tight with a sudden, intense tension. He didn't move, completely holding his breath as if he were terrified that any sudden gesture would scare you away.
"Can I..." your voice trembled, your hand nervously gesturing to the empty space on his mattress. "Can I just stay here tonight? I don't want to be on that side of the room."
Jungkook didn't hesitate for even a millisecond. He instantly shifted his large body backward, pulling his blankets aside to create a wide, welcoming space right next to him. "Come here," he whispered, his voice incredibly rough.
You crawled onto his bed, the sheets smelling intensely of his familiar, woodsy cologne. You lay down on your side, curling your knees up slightly. Jungkook moved carefully, lying down right beside you. He didn't force a heavy embrace, and he didn't try to pull you into a passionate hold. True to his promise, he gave you the space to just be yourself.
Instead, he reached out in the dark, his large, warm hand finding yours beneath the blanket. He slid his long fingers between yours, locking them securely in that same heavy, burning grip from the Ferris wheel. He pulled your joined hands up, resting them right against the center of his chest, right over the steady, rapid thumping of his heart.
He leaned his forehead forward, resting it gently against the top of your head, his warm breath fanning through your messy hair.
"I've got you," he murmured softly into the dark room, his grip on your hand tightening with a reassuring, heavy squeeze. "Just close your eyes, sweets. I'm right here. No pressure, remember? We have all the time in the world."
You closed your eyes, letting out a long, shaky sigh as the very last remnants of your post-breakup loneliness completely dissolved into the mattress. Listening to the heavy, rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your fingers, completely surrounded by his protective warmth, the fear of the future finally went quiet. You didn't know what tomorrow would look like, and you didn't know how long it would take to fix your scrambled thoughts, but as you drifted off to sleep in the quiet beach motel, you knew one thing for certain.
The road trip wasn't an escape anymore. It was the moment you finally came home.
…
The soft, rhythmic rumble of the ocean waves outside the window was the first thing that drifted into your consciousness. It was followed closely by a heavy, radiating warmth that completely enveloped your entire body. As your eyes slowly blinked open against the dim morning light filtering through the plastic blinds, you didn't feel the cold, empty space of a lonely hotel bed.
Instead, you were completely anchored.
You were tucked firmly against Jungkook’s broad chest. His left arm was wrapped securely around your waist, his large palm resting flat against your lower back, holding you flush against his solid frame. Your own hand was still resting over his heart, your fingers loosely tangled in the soft cotton of his black t-shirt. He had one of his long legs hooked over yours, completely trapping you in a lazy, heavy embrace that felt entirely unbreakable.
You stayed perfectly still, your breath catching in your throat as the realization of where you were settled in.
Slowly, carefully, you tilted your head back to look at him.
Jungkook was already awake. He was propped up slightly against his pillow, his dark hair a messy, wild halo of bedhead curls sticking up in every direction. The soft, grayish light of the early morning highlighted the relaxed lines of his face, making him look incredibly young and soft. He wasn't looking at the window or his phone. He was just staring down at you, his dark eyes full of a quiet, unblinking adoration that made your stomach do a sudden, violent flip.
The second he noticed you moving, a tiny, incredibly tender smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His voice, when he spoke, was a deep, gravelly morning rasp that vibrated directly against your chest.
"Morning, sweets," he whispered softly, his large hand on your back giving you a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "You sleep okay?"
"Yeah," you murmured, your voice sounding small and sleepy. You looked down at his chest, your cheeks warming up. "How long have you been awake?"
"About an hour," he admitted with a tiny, boyish giggle. He didn't move his arm, keeping you locked against him. "My arm went completely numb twenty minutes ago, but you looked so peaceful I didn't want to move. I was ready to let it fall off for the cause."
A genuine laugh spilled out of your mouth, the lingering angst of waking up in his bed instantly evaporating. "You are such a dork, Jeon. You should have just pushed me off."
"Never," he murmured, his tone suddenly dropping into that low, serious register that made your heart pound. He raised his right hand, his long fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your eyes. His touch was incredibly light, his thumb lingering against your temple. "I could stay right here for a week."
You stared at him, your breath shallow, the sheer emotional weight of his presence completely overwhelming your lingering doubts. For eight months, you had woken up next to a man who felt like a stranger, a relationship that felt like a daily obligation. But here, in a cheap beach motel room with your childhood best friend, you felt entirely seen, entirely valued, and completely safe.
"Jungkook," you said softly, your fingers tightening slightly against his shirt. "Let's go to the beach. Before we have to pack up the car."
His eyes softened, a warm, supportive look taking over his face. "Whatever you want, sweets. Let's go."
…
You walked slowly along the water's edge, your sneakers sinking slightly into the wet sand. You were wearing his massive black hoodie again over your clothes, the long sleeves pulled down past your knuckles to protect your hands from the freezing wind.
Jungkook walked right beside you, his hands shoved deep into his shorts pockets, his broad shoulders hunched slightly against the breeze. He was keeping a respectful foot of space between your shoulders, true to his promise of letting you set the pace.
"It’s beautiful out here," you whispered, watching a white seagull glide low over the water.
"Yeah, it is," Jungkook said. But when you glanced over at him, he wasn't looking at the ocean. He was looking at you, his expression quiet and thoughtful.
A sudden, sharp wave of reality hit your chest, bringing back a faint hint of the familiar angst. The road trip was ending today. The beautiful escape of the highway, the luxury hotel rooms, and the neon lights of the boardwalk were over. By this afternoon, you would be driving back into the city, back to your actual lives, your apartments, and the regular routine.
"Jungkook," you started, your voice dropping as you stopped walking. You turned to face him, the wind pulling strands of hair across your face. "What happens when we go back?"
Jungkook stopped immediately, shifting his large body so he was blocking the harsh wind from hitting you directly. He looked down at you, his brow furrowing slightly in concern. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... when we get back to the city," you mumbled, looking down at your sneakers in the sand. "We have to go back to our normal lives. People are going to ask about the breakup. My ex might try to call me to get his things. And... I don't want us to become weird. I don't want to lose the easy way we used to talk just because everything is shifting."
The silence stretched between you, heavy with the fear of the future. You were terrified that once the magic of the road trip faded, the reality of changing a three-year friendship would become too heavy to handle.
Jungkook didn't answer right away. He slowly stepped closer, closing the distance between you until he was standing just inches away. He reached out, his large, warm hands coming up to gently grab the sides of your hood, pulling the thick black fabric securely around your ears to shield you from the cold breeze.
"Look at me, sweets," he commanded softly, his dark eyes completely locking onto yours with an absolute, unshakable intensity.
You raised your head, your eyes wide and a little glassy.
"Nothing is going to change unless you want it to," Jungkook said, his voice ringing with a deep, grounded certainty. "When we get back, I’m still going to be the guy who comes over at midnight to fix your broken kitchen cabinet. I’m still the guy who is going to text you stupid memes during your lunch break. The city doesn't change who we are."
He squeezed the fabric of your hood gently, his thumbs resting against the sides of your jawline.
"If you need me to just be your best friend for the next month while you sort through your brain, I will be your best friend," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly with a raw, unprotected vulnerability.
"If you need me to take you out on a proper, real date, I will do that too. I've spent three years guarding my heart around you, sweets. I am not going to run away or get weird just because we crossed the city limits. I am entirely yours. In the motel room, on the highway, or back in our apartments. You don't have to carry the pressure of fixing everything today."
The honesty in his words cut straight through the very last layer of your self-doubt. The lingering anxiety of the past relationship, the fear of making a mistake, the ghost of your old life—it all completely collapsed under the weight of his unconditional devotion. He wasn't asking you to be perfect. He was just asking you to let him hold you.
A sudden, fierce wave of clarity washed over you. You didn't want to wait anymore. You didn't want to let the fear of tomorrow ruin the beautiful, undeniable truth of what was standing right in front of you.
Slowly, your hands came out from the long sleeves of his hoodie. Your fingers were trembling slightly, but your movement was entirely deliberate. You reached up, your hands pressing against his broad, solid chest, feeling the rapid, frantic thumping of his heart beneath his t-shirt.
Jungkook completely froze, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes widening in total shock as you stepped even closer, your shoes touching his.
"Jungkook," you whispered, your voice thick with a beautiful, heavy emotion as you looked straight into his dark eyes. "I don't want to wait a month."
Before he could even process your words, you stood up on your tiptoes. You closed the tiny remaining gap between your faces, leaning up until your lips gently, softly pressed against his.
The touch was light, tentative, and full of a deep, lingering angst—a silent question asked after three years of waiting. His lips were incredibly soft, warm against the chilly morning air, smelling faintly of the minty toothpaste from the motel room.
For a split second, Jungkook stayed completely rigid, his mind entirely blown, as if he couldn't believe this was actually happening. But then, a low, ragged groan escaped his throat.
The hesitation vanished instantly.
His large hands dropped from your hood, sliding down to wrap fiercely around your waist. He lifted you slightly off your feet, pulling your body completely against his broad frame with a sudden, desperate strength. He leaned his head down, deepening the kiss with a raw, burning intensity that left you completely breathless. It wasn't a rushed or aggressive touch; it was a deeply passionate, emotional release of three years of unspoken love, poured entirely into the quiet morning air.
Your hands slid up his chest, wrapping securely around the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his messy, damp curls as you melted completely into his warmth.
When he finally pulled back, just a fraction of an inch, his forehead rested gently against yours. His breathing was heavy and ragged, his large hands still gripping your waist tightly as if he were terrified you would disappear if he let go. A massive, breathless smile broke across his handsome face, his dark eyes shining with a pure, unadulterated happiness that completely lit up the entire beach.
"Sweets," he whispered against your lips, his voice rough and completely dazed. "If this is a dream, do not wake me up. I mean it. I will sleep forever."
You let out a soft, happy laugh, burying your face into the warm crook of his neck, your arms wrapping securely around his broad shoulders.
You had finally found your destination.
…
The steady, quiet rhythm of a late-night June rain was the only sound left in the apartment. Outside the large window, the city was just a blurry mix of red, yellow, and blue lights reflecting on the wet streets far below. The cars moved slowly through the puddles, their headlights cutting through the dark gray fog. Inside, your living room felt like a completely different world. It was warm, cozy, and quiet, lit only by the soft amber glow of a single ceramic floor lamp standing in the corner.
A full month had passed since the road trip had ended. The sudden, chaotic explosion of your old breakup had finally settled into distant history. The boxes of your ex-boyfriend's things were gone, the keys had been handed back, and the tears had completely dried up. You had both fallen back into your regular city routines. You spent your days focusing on your work, organizing your schedules, and managing your independent business projects. Jungkook went right back to his high-volume photography and graphic design work, his calendar packed with studio shoots and editing sessions.
But absolutely nothing about the space between you two felt regular anymore.
You were sitting flat on the thick, plush rug in the center of the room, your back resting against the bottom base of the couch. Spread out all around your legs was a large, messy binder filled with business papers, menu printouts, and cost spreadsheets. Your fingers traced the edge of a white paper, trying to read the lines of text, but your mind was not processing a single word or number. Every single ounce of your focus was dialed entirely into the heavy, solid presence of the boy sitting right above you on the cushions.
Jungkook was stretched out lazily across the sofa, his long legs taking up almost the entire length of the cushions. He was wearing an old, faded gray tank top that showed off the heavy, defined muscles of his shoulders and the intricate, dark patterns of the tattoo sleeve wrapping all the way down his right arm. His laptop rested heavily on his muscular thighs, and his large fingers clicked the trackpad every now and then, slowly moving through a batch of street photographs he had taken earlier that week.
For twenty long minutes, neither of you had said a single word.
In the past, a long silence like this would have been entirely brainless and comfortable. You would have been scrolling through social media on your phone, he would have been playing a video game on his console, and the air in the room would have felt light and easy. You wouldn't have thought twice about sitting together without talking. But tonight, the silence felt thick. It felt like a physical weight pressing down on the air, heavy with a new, simmering undercurrent of raw, unhurried tension that seemed to grow stronger with every single tick of the wall clock.
You shifted your position on the floor, trying to ease the sudden tightness in your chest. As you moved your legs under the binder, your shoulder accidentally brushed against the hard, warm line of his shin resting right against the edge of the couch cushions.
Jungkook did not move his leg away. In fact, the moment your skin made contact with his, his fingers stopped clicking the mouse completely. The small tapping sound vanished, making the room feel even quieter than before.
Slowly, deliberately, Jungkook lowered his laptop screen by a fraction of an inch. His dark, heavy eyes slid down from the monitor, tracking across the top of your head before locking onto the side of your face. He did not say anything at first. He just watched you through the dim light, his jawline sharp and tight, his breathing deep, slow, and steady.
"You've been rewriting that exact same line on your menu for ten minutes, sweets," he said softly. His voice was a low, sleepy gravel that vibrated right through the couch cushions against your back, sending a sudden, sharp shiver straight down your spine.
"I have not," you muttered quickly, stubbornly keeping your eyes fixed on the paper in front of you, even though your heart rate was already starting to speed up. "I am checking the prices and verifying the math. Some of us actually have to work for a living instead of just playing with photo filters and sliders all day."
A low, deep rumble of a laugh vibrated in his broad chest. "Photo filters? Is that seriously what you think I do all day in the studio?"
"Basically," you teased, finally turning your head slightly to look up at him through your eyelashes. You were trying hard to bring back the safe, funny armor of your old friendly bickering, desperately wanting to break the heavy mood. "You just make the pretty pictures look a little more blue or a little more yellow. A child could do it, Jeon."
Jungkook’s lips parted into a slow, dangerously handsome smirk. He shifted his weight, closing his laptop with a soft click and setting it down on the opposite end of the couch. He leaned his forearms onto his bare knees, bending his large upper body forward until his face was only a foot away from yours, looking down at you from over the edge of the velvet cushions.
"A child, huh?" he murmured, his dark eyes glinting with a playful, wicked challenge in the amber lamplight. "If my job is so easy, why don't you crawl up here and finish editing the next batch for me? I'll even let you wear the captain's hat and sit in the big chair."
"I am entirely too busy managing a real commercial enterprise, Jungkook," you said, tossing your plastic pen onto the binder with a dramatic, loud sigh, though your eyes wandered instinctively to the clean, sharp line of his collarbone. "I don't have time to play around with your little art projects."
"Right. A real enterprise," he teased back, his voice dropping into a lower, softer register as his gaze dropped down to your lips for a brief, fleeting second before snapping right back to your eyes. "Which is exactly why you've been holding that pen upside down for the last five minutes."
Your face instantly flushed a brilliant, hot shade of pink. You quickly looked down at your hand, realizing with absolute horror that he was entirely correct—the plastic cap of the pen was resting firmly against your thumb while the actual ink point was aimed uselessly at the ceiling.
"It's a new memory technique," you stammered out, scrambling to flip the pen around in your fingers while forcing a loud, defensive laugh to cover your embarrassment. "It stimulates the brain cells. You wouldn't know anything about it because your brain is entirely fueled by video games, bad movies, and energy drinks."
Jungkook let out another quiet, rich laugh, the sound incredibly warm and intimate in the quiet apartment. But instead of pushing the joke any further, he slowly slid off the edge of the couch. He did not rush his movements at all. He moved with a slow, agonizingly deliberate grace, his bare feet making zero sound on the soft rug as he dropped down onto his knees right on the floor beside you.
Suddenly, the safe distance between your bodies shrunk down to a matter of inches.
The physical heat radiating off his chest was shocking, cutting straight through the cool draft of the rainy June night. He sat back on his heels, resting one of his large, calloused hands flat on the floor right behind your lower back, effectively blocking you in from behind. He smelled entirely like his clean cedarwood body wash, laundry detergent, and the faint trace of mint gum.
"Alright, show me the memory technique then," he murmured, his dark eyes locked onto yours, completely unblinking. He reached out with his left hand, his long fingers moving slowly across the small space between you until his knuckles lightly, barely brushed against the soft fabric of your gray sleeve. "Explain the numbers to me, sweets. I'm all ears."
Your breath completely caught in your throat. The playful, bickering armor you had built up over three years of friendship felt incredibly thin right now. It was easy to joke around and banter when he was sitting on the other side of the room, but with him kneeling right next to you on the floor, his broad shoulders completely blocking out the rest of your living room, the flirty energy felt heavy. It felt entirely too real.
"The... the classic boxes of four are starting at twelve dollars," you whispered, your voice sounding remarkably breathy and small compared to the steady roar of the rain outside. You looked down at the binder, your heart slamming wildly against your ribs as you pointed a trembling finger at a row of numbers. "And then there’s a three-dollar difference for the specialty collections. Like the Biscoff dream variety or the Nutella dream variety."
"Three dollars," Jungkook repeated softly. He wasn't looking at the paper or the numbers at all. He was tracing the sharp line of your jaw with his eyes, his gaze heavy, dark, and completely focused on you. "Sounds like a solid strategy, sweets."
"It is," you muttered, trying desperately to keep your voice steady and professional. "It keeps the profit margins clean. And it prevents the customers from getting confused by too many random numbers on the ordering sheet."
Jungkook slowly moved his hand from his knee. He did not grab you, and he did not push you into doing anything. Instead, his long, ink-covered fingers slid across the white pages of your binder, his fingertips lightly brushing against the edge of your hand as he reached up to gently touch the corner of the paper you were holding. His skin was burning hot, a massive contrast to your cold, nervous fingers.
"And what about the formatting?" he asked, his voice dropping into a rough, raspy whisper that fanned across the sensitive skin on the side of your neck, causing a violent wave of goosebumps to break out across your arms. He leaned in just a fraction closer, his shoulder tucking right against yours. "The layout looks a little cluttered here. Do you want me to redesign the font and the sheet for you tomorrow before you print it out?"
"I can format a spreadsheet, Jungkook," you whispered back, your eyes darting down to his mouth. His lips were parted slightly, his breathing a little shallow. The sheer, suffocating weight of the unspoken physical tension in the room was becoming completely overwhelming.
"I know you can," he murmured, his thumb slowly, casually stroking the very edge of your notebook page. "But I like helping you. It gives me an easy excuse to sit here like this."
"Like what?" you asked, finally turning your head to face him fully.
The move was a huge mistake. Your faces were so incredibly close now that if either of you leaned forward even an inch, your noses would touch. You could see the tiny mole right beneath his lower lip, the dark, clear depth of his irises, and the intense, serious focus in his expression.
"Like we have absolutely nowhere else to be tonight," Jungkook whispered, his dark eyes dropping down to your mouth, his gaze heavy and completely filled with a quiet, patient hunger that he was no longer trying to hide behind a best-friend smile. "Like I don't have to pretend that I'm looking at the paperwork when I'm actually just looking at you."
The entire apartment went completely, utterly silent. The ticking clock on the wall and the roaring rain outside seemed to completely vanish from your mind, leaving nothing but the thick, magnetic heat stretching between your bodies on the floor.
For the past month, you had both been playing completely nice. You had held hands while walking down the street, he had kissed your cheek when he dropped you off at your door after work, and you had gone on quiet, sweet dinner dates to your favorite local spots. You had both been intentionally moving slow, protecting the delicate transition from friends to something more. You wanted to make sure nothing felt rushed, pressured, or messy after your heavy breakup.
But sitting on the floor of your dark living room, with his large frame completely surrounding you and his scent filling your lungs, the feeling starting to turn into something completely impossible to control.
Your fingers instinctively tightened against the plastic of your pen, your knuckles turning white. "Jungkook... you're... you're doing it again."
"Doing what?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a rough, low rumble that felt entirely too intimate in the dark space. He did not pull back; instead, he tilted his head just a fraction of an inch, his eyes never leaving yours.
"You're crowding me," you breathed out, your heart doing a full-scale acrobatic routine against your ribs. "You're using your giant gym shoulders to take up all the oxygen in my living room. I can barely think."
A slow, beautifully wicked smile pulled at the corner of his lips, his eyes crinkling just a tiny bit at the corners. He slowly raised his hand from the binder, his fingers moving through the air with agonizing slowness before he gently, carefully tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His warm fingertips lingered against the sensitive skin of your neck, his touch so light it felt like a whisper against your skin.
"There's plenty of oxygen, sweets," he whispered, his thumb slowly tracing a short, burning line down the side of your neck, his palm resting right against your collarbone. The heat of his hand was intoxicating, making your entire body feel heavy, warm, and weak. "You're just nervous. Because you know exactly what I'm thinking right now."
"I don't have a single clue what goes on in that chaotic brain of yours, Jeon," you retorted weakly, your hand coming up instinctively to press against his broad chest, intending to push him back to a safe distance. But the second your palm hit the soft fabric of his tank top, feeling the solid, rapid, and powerful thumping of his heart beneath your fingers, your strength completely evaporated. Your fingers ended up just curling into the cotton shirt, pulling him a millimeter closer instead.
Jungkook let out a short, sharp breath, his dark eyes darkening significantly as he felt the tight grip of your fingers on his shirt.
"Sweets," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly with a sudden, deep wave of real, unprotected emotion. He did not force a heavy grip on you, and he did not rush forward to steal a kiss. He just kept his large hand resting flat against your neck, his thumb gently caressing your jawline, giving you every single opportunity to pull away if it was too much for you to handle. "We've been being so good for four weeks. I've been the most patient guy in the entire city. I've given you all the space you asked for. But sitting this close to you while you look at me like that... it's starting to feel like a literal torture method."
You stared up at him, your lips parted, your mind completely spinning as the sheer emotional depth of his gaze anchored you to the floor. The last lingering remnants of your past life, the anxiety of the old relationship, the fear of changing the rules of your friendship—it all completely dissolved into the warm, amber light of the room.
"I'm not looking at you like anything," you whispered desperately into the tiny space between your mouths, your eyes locked onto his.
"You are," Jungkook whispered back, his face leaning down just another fraction of an inch, his warm lips almost brushing against yours as he spoke. "You're looking at me the exact same way I've been looking at you for three long years. And if you don't tell me to go back to my side of the room right now... I am going to completely ruin our safe little boundary tonight."
You did not say a single word. You did not move away, and you did not pull your hand away from his chest.
Instead, your fingers tightened fiercely against the fabric of his tank top, your eyes closing as you slowly leaned your head forward, completely closing the final, agonizing distance between you.
When his lips finally met yours, it wasn't the tentative, careful question from the beach shoreline a month ago. It was a deep, slow, and completely possessive answer. Jungkook let out a low, ragged sigh against your mouth, his large arms finally moving to wrap securely around your waist. He lifted your body completely off the rug and pulled you directly into his lap, closing every single inch of distance between you.
He held you with a heavy, unhurried strength that felt entirely permanent, his mouth moving against yours with a breathless, deep intensity that completely erased the old lines of your friendship. His lips were warm, soft, and demanding, tasting faintly of mint and sweetness. Your hands slid up his chest, your fingers tangling into the soft, messy curls at the back of his neck, holding onto him as if he were the only solid thing left in the world.
…
The bedroom was completely quiet. There was no more running, no more cold masks, and no more walls between you. The air felt completely thick with a deep, breathless relief.
You were both still on the floor, right by the side of your unmade bed. Jungkook’s broad back was resting firmly against the edge of the mattress, his long legs spread wide to cradle your body completely inside his space. He had pulled you right onto his lap, your knees framing his hips, bringing your bodies so close that there wasn’t a single inch of empty space left between you. His massive, hands were wrapped tightly around your waist, his fingers digging into your skin with a steady, grounding pressure as if he was still terrified you might vanish into the dark night.
His mouth found yours again, and the kiss was entirely different from any clash you had ever shared before. It was deep, wet, and completely filled with an aching, desperate hunger that had been building up for a month. His tongue slid smoothly against yours, tasting the salt of your recent tears, while his hot breath fanned across your cheeks.
As the kiss deepened, Jungkook’s hips gave a slow, heavy tilt upward. The friction was instant. Even through the thick, rough denim of his jeans and the fabric of your clothes, the hard, solid length of his erection pressed firmly against your core. A soft, trembling gasp was pulled right from your throat, your fingers instantly digging into the fabric of his t-shirt.
He didn't speed up. He kept the movement slow, heavy, and incredibly deliberate, dry humping you right there on his lap. Every single time his hips rolled against yours, you could feel the throbbing size of his length pushing hard against your thighs. The friction was building a thick, heavy pool of heat between your legs, making your core clench desperately against the rough denim. He groaned deep in his chest, a low, vibrating sound that went straight down your spine. His mouth moved to your jawline, his lips sucking softly at your skin, leaving a wet trail down to your neck.
"You feel so fucking good, sweets," Jungkook panted darkly, his hot breath brushing against your ear. His large hands slid down from your waist, his palms cupping your ass tightly, lifting you slightly just to press your wet heat even harder against his hard jeans. "I’ve been going completely crazy for months. Do you know how hard it was to watch you walk past me every day and not pull you into a room?"
Your face flushed a deep, burning crimson. You were incredibly shy under his direct, raw words, but your body was completely betraying you, melting into his heavy heat. Your fingers slid up his chest, your palms mapping his muscles. You found yourself completely obsessed with the size of his biceps, your fingers squeezing the hard muscle as he lifted you. You stared down at his chest in the dim light, your breath catching at how massive and solid he felt beneath your hands.
Reaching out with a trembling finger, you playfully flicked his nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt.
Jungkook let out a sharp, ragged gasp, his eyes instantly darkening with a wild, teasing intensity. A dominant, beautiful smirk tugged at his lips. "Oh, you want to play dirty now, princess?"
Before you could answer, his large hand slid up under your shirt, his rough, warm palms finding your bare skin. His thick fingers captured your nipple, giving it a firm, teasing pinch that sent a sharp, electric jolt of pure pleasure straight down to your thighs. You arched your back, a loud gasp escaping your lips as his thumb began to make tight, heavy circles over the sensitive peak.
You fired back, your fingers tugging at his shirt until you could reach his chest, your thumb and forefinger finding his nipple again, pinching it right back. You were both teasing each other's nipples, the friction and the light pain driving the mood into something incredibly wild, raw, and completely unaligned with the cold distance of the past.
Jungkook couldn't take the distance on the floor anymore. Without breaking the heavy, wet connection of your lips, his massive arms wrapped completely under your thighs and back. He stood up smoothly, lifting your weight as if you weighed nothing at all, and moved the both of you onto the soft mattress of your bed.
He laid you down gently onto the dark blankets, his heavy, muscular frame immediately hovering right over you. He looked down at your face. His eyes were completely dark, filled with a raw, serious vulnerability. Neither of you had ever seen each other completely naked before—every previous encounter had been sweet, and hidden. Tonight was real.
"Hey," Jungkook whispered, his voice incredibly soft, sexy, and deep as he stared directly into your eyes. He reached down, his thumb gently tracing your lower lip. "Look at me, princess. I want to do this right. I want to see every single inch of you. Can I continue? Tell me you want me inside you."
Your heart was hammering against your ribs, a wave of shyness washing over you at his intense focus, but you nodded your head softly, your fingers curling around his wrists. "Yes... Jungkook, please."
A soft, relieved sigh left his lips. He didn't waste another second. With slow, worshipful movements, he reached down and carefully pulled your shirt over your head, completely exposing your breasts to the warm air of the room. Jungkook froze for a long, heavy minute, his breath hitching completely in his throat. He stared at them in the dim light, his eyes completely blown out as he took in the soft, perfect shape of your chest.
"God, you are so beautiful," he growled darkly, his voice rough with an absolute, desperate hunger. He leaned down, his large, scarred hands cupping your breasts roughly, his thick fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He didn't bite brutally; he opened his mouth wide, licking and sucking your nipple deep into his mouth, his tongue making heavy, wet circles around the peak until you were crying out, your fingers twisting into his dark hair.
While he sucked your breast, your hands slid down his broad shoulders, your fingers mapping the thick lines of his back before you reached for the hem of his t-shirt. You pushed the fabric up, your eyes widening as he pulled it off, completely exposing his massive chest, his chiseled abs, and the powerful lines of his biceps. You were completely obsessed with his body, your palms sliding over his warm, tanned skin, feeling the heavy, rapid thumping of his heart beneath his ribs.
Jungkook reached down, his fingers unbuttoning your trousers and sliding them off your legs, leaving you in nothing but your small lace panties. He shifted his body down between your thighs, his knees forcing your legs wide apart. He looked down at your core, his breathing turning ragged.
His large, wrapped hand slid down, his palm resting right over the fabric of your panties. He began to rub his palm in slow, heavy circles over your pussy, flicking his fingers lightly against your hidden clit through the thin lace. He observed your face, watching your eyes flutter shut as you let out a high-pitched, needy whimper.
"Let me see it," Jungkook murmured, his voice a dirty, raw whisper against your thigh. "Can I take these off, sweets? Let me look at you."
You nodded weakly, your hands gripping the bedsheets as he carefully slid the lace panties down your legs, tossing them onto the floor. Jungkook stayed on his knees, his dark eyes locking onto your exposed core. In the dim glow of the room, he observed your beautiful, pink-brownish flesh, his eyes tracing the delicate, wet lines of your pussy. You felt incredibly shy under his intense gaze, instinctively trying to close your thighs to hide yourself from him.
"Don't hide from me," he commanded softly, his large hands gripping your knees and gently pushing them wide open again. "You are so fucking perfect. Look how wet you already are for me."
Using his delicate, thick fingers, he reached down and lightly flicked through the thick, clear cream that you had already released through the intense dry humping. He didn't rush. He moved his fingertips slowly over your clit, spreading your own wet juices over the sensitive flesh, making a soft, wet sound that filled the quiet bedroom. He was being incredibly dirty, moving his finger tips in tight, heavy circulation right over your clit, applying a steady, intense pressure that made your hips violently jerk off the bed.
"Ah! Jungkook... it's too much," you cried out, your face flushing as a wave of intense, pre-climax pleasure shot through your lower body.
"It's not too much yet, sweets," he whispered darkly, leaning down until his lips were just millimeters from your wet flesh. He let out a low growl, his tongue darting out to lick right across your clit, tasting your sweet cream. He started giving you a slow, incredibly nice pussy licks, his tongue licking and sucking your sensitive flesh while his fingers slid deep inside your wet core, moving in and out in a perfect, heavy rhythm.
You were writhing under him, your mind completely shattered by the dirty things he was whispering against your thighs, your body melting into the mattress. The pleasure was so pure, so real, and entirely empty of the past.
You reached down, your trembling hands catching his broad shoulders, pulling him up. "Jungkook... please, I want to touch you. Let me hold it."
Jungkook’s eyes flashed with a wild, dark desire, when you suddenly confessed. He shifted his body up, sitting on his knees right over your face. He unbuttoned his jeans, his hands sliding the heavy denim down his long legs until he was completely undressed. Your breath caught completely in your throat. It was your very first time seeing his length completely bare. He was massive, thick, and completely rock-hard, a heavy bead of precum glistening at the very tip of his shaft.
"Hold it, baby," he panted, his voice dripping with a raw, dirty authority. "Take it."
Your hands were shaking as you reached out, your fingers wrapping around the thick, warm base of his length. He let out a deep groan as your skin touched his, his jaw clenching tightly. You leaned up slightly, your tongue darting out to softly lick the shaft, moving your lips along the thick veins. You took the head into your mouth, giving him a slow, deep blowjob, your lips tight around his size while your hand moved up and down the length.
Jungkook’s breathing went completely wild. He reached down, his large hands gently gripping your hair, and began to softly mouth fuck you, pushing his thick length deep into your throat in a steady, heavy rhythm. The wet sounds of your mouth fucking filling the space between your gasps for air.
He moved with a heavy, intense pace until his entire body went completely rigid. He pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes looking down at your face, his voice a tight, strained rasp.
"Sweets... I'm close. Do you want me to come inside your mouth? Tell me."
You looked right into his wild, obsessed eyes, your heart completely melting at how real and vulnerable he looked. You nodded your head firmly, letting out a soft hum of agreement.
Jungkook let out a low, animalistic roar, pushing his thick length all the way back into your mouth to the very root. His body trembled violently as he released, pouring his thick, hot, and heavy cum right down your throat. You swallowed every single drop, your hands rubbing his thighs as his release pumped out against your tongue.
The moment he finished, he slowly pulled away, his breathing ragged. He didn't leave you alone for even a single second. Jungkook immediately pulled you back up into his broad chest, his massive arms wrapping around you as he gave you a sweet, tender aftercare for a full minute, kissing your lips, your forehead, and your wet cheeks, whispering how much he loved you into your skin.
But the night was far from over. The raw, unprotected heat between your bodies was still burning completely out of control.
Jungkook shifted your body, positioning you flat on your back once more. He crawled between your thighs, his thick, heavy length already semi-hard again, pressing right against the entrance of your wet pussy. He paused, his hands framing your hips, his eyes locking onto yours with a serious, deep focus.
Suddenly, with a playful, dominant smirk, his large hand came down, giving a loud, sharp slap right against your wet pussy flesh. The loud CLAP echoed through the room, making your eyes widen in pure, shocked arousal.
"You're so fucking wet for me, baby," he whispered darkly, his thumb finding your clit to begin a heavy circulation through the thick juices. He positioned the thick head of his dick right at your opening. "Can I put it back in? Let me slide all the way inside you, sweets."
"Yes... please, Jungkook, put it in," you screamed out, your pride completely gone.
Jungkook gave a deep, slow push, his massive, unprotected dick sliding smoothly and deeply right into your tight, wet core, bottoming out completely to the absolute root. A loud, desperate scream tore from your throat, your fingers digging deep into his biceps as he began to push in and out of you, starting the real, unbroken rhythm of the night.
Every single thrust was slow, heavy, and completely bottoming out inside your tight, swollen core. The unprotected friction between your bodies felt entirely different—it was an overwhelming, melting heat that stripped away the last remaining doubts in your mind.
His large hands were locked firmly around your hips, his calloused thumbs digging into your skin to anchor you against the soft mattress. With every slow, deliberate push, the wet, squelching sound of his thick shaft sliding through your excess juices filled the quiet room. You lay beneath him with your legs spread wide, your head tossing back against the pillows as a high, breathless whimpering tore from your throat.
"Look at me, sweets," Jungkook panted, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that shook your chest. He leaned his heavy upper body down, his broad chest pressing flat against yours, trapping your smaller frame under his massive weight. "Don't close your eyes. Look at how much of my dick you're taking right now."
You forced your eyelids open, your vision slightly blurred by tears of pure, intense pleasure. In the dim amber light of the streetlamps, his dark eyes were completely fixed on yours. There was a raw, beautiful vulnerability in his gaze—an absolute surrender that perfectly mirrored your own. The pride that had kept you apart for months was entirely gone, replaced by a deep, aching dependency that you finally permitted yourself to feel.
"Jungkook... ah! It feels... so deep," you choked out, your fingers sliding up his damp, muscular arms, your palms completely obsessed with the thick, hard curve of his biceps. You squeezed the solid muscle tightly as he delivered a slow, crushing surge that hit your spot perfectly from the front.
"Because it is deep, baby. Fucking deep," he growled softly, a low, vibrating chuckle rumbling against your chest. He stopped moving for a split second, his thick length buried to the absolute root inside you, letting you feel the full, throbbing weight of his erection. His hand slid up from your hip, his long, scarred fingers wrapping roughly around your breast. His thumb flicked over your highly sensitive nipple, applying a firm, teasing pressure that made your internal walls instantly convulse around his shaft. "I want to be so deep inside you that you can't think about anyone or anything else. You're completely filled with me."
He began to move again, but this time, he altered his angle, his hips moving in a tight, heavy circulation. The rolling motion of his pelvis against your clit, combined with the deep, deep strokes of his dick, was completely lethal. A sharp, loud scream escaped your lips, your back arching violently off the mattress as the friction reached a boiling point.
Jungkook let out a ragged gasp, his own head dropping into the crook of your neck. He began to suck and bite at your collarbone, leaving light, wet marks while his lower body kept up the relentless, circulating rhythm. He reached his hand down between your thighs, his thick thumb finding your swollen, dripping clit through the thick white cream that was beginning to coat his groin. He began to make tight, heavy, fast circles against your clit, matching the speed of his thumbs to the deep, grinding thrusts of his hips.
The combination completely shattered your mind. You were drowning in the raw, dirty reality of his touch. You could feel his thick veins pulsing against your internal walls, every single millimeter of his size stretching you open, forcing your body to stay in a constant, crushing state of climax.
"Jungkook! Please... I'm going to come... ah!" you sobbed out, your hands moving to the back of his neck, your fingers twisting desperately into his damp, dark hair to pull him down for a deep, wet kiss.
"Come for me then, love," he muttered against your lips, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth to swallow your high, needy cries. "Clench around my dick. Let me feel how tight you get when you ruin yourself for me."
Your body completely gave in. A massive, violent orgasm tore through your entire lower body, your internal walls clenching around his thick shaft so tightly that Jungkook let out a loud, animalistic roar of pure agony. His thrusts became faster, heavier, and completely unforgiving for a few wild seconds, his chest slamming against yours as he chased his own release through your convulsions. But even in his desperation, his large hands remained gentle around your waist, keeping you grounded, keeping you safe against him.
He didn't pull out when your body finished trembling. He kept his cock buried deep inside you, his heavy breathing filling the quiet room as he waited for your internal pulses to slow down. He leaned down, kissing your forehead, your wet cheeks, and the tip of your nose, his touch filled with an unbelievable, heartbreaking sweetness that made your heart melt completely.
"You're so perfect, baby, So perfect," he whispered, his rough voice completely stripped of its usual dominant edge. He reached down, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of damp hair away from your face. "My beautiful, perfect girl. I'm never letting you go back to that cold past ever."
You leaned up, your lips softly pressing against his chiseled jawline, your heart completely full. "I don't want to go back, Jungkook. I just want to stay right here."
He let out a soft, beautiful laugh, his dark eyes shining with an absolute, devoted warmth. He slowly pulled his semi-hard length out of your core, a soft, wet sound echoing in the quiet room as your shared juices spilled onto his thighs. Jungkook didn't leave your side for a single second.
He immediately pulled you into his broad chest, his massive arms wrapping around your waist, pulling the thick blankets completely over both of your shoulders to shield you. As the quiet night settled over the small apartment, you rested your head against his heart, your fingers intertwined with his scarred hand, finally, completely free. "I love you sweets," he planked a kiss to your lips.
"I love you too."
...
[ Request your fic here🫶🏼]
a/n: fr enjoyed writing this one sm!! nd made me feel so much aww in a way i can’t even explain lol. tbh this is a trope i’ve never actually tried before, so i really wanted to experiment with it in a super detailed way. i def didn't want to rush anything or just jump straight into the plot just to force them to confess love for each other immediately. i really hope u guys love the slow build up & how it turned out! thank you for showing so much love for the teaser !!! layout ur thoughts in the comments pls <3 REBLOGS ARE ALSO APPRECIATED
Summary: Your car breaks down in a rural town during a solo road trip and you barely manage to make it to the nearest repair shop. Jungkook, trusty mechanic and sweetheart, takes a look at your car and brings you to a - very icky - motel, where he can't bring himself to let you stay the night on your own...
Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, mechanic JK, manly JK while still being a cutie and a gentleman, this is pretty much a damsel in distress situation, there's a cuck chair again lmao but no cuck in sight this time, lots of sweat bc it's hot there!! they're both soaked in multiple ways, alcohol and weed, making out a little high, fingering, oral (both receiving), PiV, multiple positions, JK gets a bit unhinged and pussy drunk during the deed and pulls a few surprising moves, bit of dirty talk (good girl mentioned)
A/n: There's a lot of yapping and story building for a oneshot. We love a good build up in this house.
Wordcount: 10.4k
Masterlist
”No, no, no…,“ you plead with your car, stroking the plastic covering behind the steering wheel with one hand. “Please don’t do this to me, we’re almost there!”
The engine light had already lit up some miles back, but you decided to ignore it and just pray you’d make it to your destination. But now, after driving along empty country roads, seemingly endless, with only a few small towns in between breaking the monotony of the scenery, the lights on your dashboard start to flicker and the radio keeps cutting out.
“Shit,” you curse out loud before asking your phone for the directions to the nearest auto repair shop.
Your already shitty air con has totally given up. Beads of sweat are starting to collect on your upper lip as you follow google maps through the scorching heat. Thank god it’s only a few more miles until you pull into a small town off the desert road. This little hick town seems to just be made up of one main road, with a few homes off to the side.
“In 0,2 miles your destination will be on the left,” your navigation lets you know. A minute later you pull up in front of the repair shop with your Buick Century and turn off the ignition. You exhale in relief, at least you made it to the garage. You don’t want to imagine being stranded at the side of the road in the desert, not in this weather.
You let your head fall on the steering wheel that you are gripping with both hands, already worried about how much money you’re going to have to throw at your rust bucket. You step out of your vehicle finally, looking around. There’s what seems to be a small convenience store across the street, a man in denim dungarees and cowboy boots sitting in front of it, smoking. You snort - all that’s missing is a damn banjo.
What comes to your mind immediately is the horror movie cliché of a car breaking down in some rural backwater town and what happens after. You’ve watched countless of them - Wrong Turn, House of Wax, The Hills have Eyes. You don’t have any plans to end up as a final girl to a clan of inbred hillbilly psychos. Hopefully, whatever is wrong with your Buick is fixed quickly so you can be on your way.
You walk into the repair shop through a glass door next to a bigger gate for cars to enter and look around for an employee, unsuccessfully.
“Hello?” you ask into the empty space. There’s a front desk, but it’s unoccupied. Please, don’t let this place be actually closed down already for the day.
“Back here,” you suddenly hear a voice sounding from further back. Relieved, you scan the perimeters to find the source, peeking around a corner.
You find the actual workshop of the garage, multiple cars with open hoods standing around, but you don’t see anyone. Reluctantly, you walk between vehicles, not sure if you are even allowed in here, until you almost stumble over legs sticking out from under some Toyota sedan.
“Um, hi?” you address the jeans-clad legs.
“One sec,” a voice replies and a moment later you hear tools clanking to the floor before a man emerges from under the car.
And, well, he’s really not someone you expected to find in a rural backwater town. It’s not the outfit either, he’s just wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, both smeared with motor oil and grease. What surprises you is the fact that one of his arms is covered in tattoos, down to his fingers, and his ears are decked out in multiple silver hoops. He smiles at you, a piercing through the side of his lower lip, while he wipes his hands on the bandana tied to his pants.
Usually, when you have to bring in your rust bucket, the mechanics crack some sort of unfunny misogynistic joke at your expense before trying to rip you off with unnecessary repairs you didn’t ask for. So that is what you steel yourself for when you tell the dude that your Buick started breaking down as he walks you to the front of the shop.
He clicks open the automatic garage door and tells you to drive your car inside for him to inspect it.
But, shit. When you try to switch on the ignition, it’s dead.
The mechanic comes up to your rolled-down window. “Doesn’t start huh?”, he correctly assesses. “Put it in neutral, I can just push it inside.”
“Sorry,” you mumble, trying to move the shift stick to neutral, without success. It doesn’t budge without the engine being on.
You shrug your shoulders at him in a helpless manner, making him laugh. “Ah, automatic,” he hums before opening the driver door and pulling a screwdriver from the back pocket of his jeans.
Without warning, he’s suddenly in your lap, leaning over you to access the middle console. You would’ve moved out of the way had he warned you. But now this, admittedly very attractive, guy is brushing his tattooed arm against your thighs all non-chalant as he wriggles his screwdriver around the plastic by the gear stick. With one last satisfied hum, he finally moves the stick to the neutral position.
You just dumbly stare at him with hot cheeks when he retreats from your space again and he tells you about some manual switch he pushed. “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes when he sees your startled expression. “I didn’t get dirt on you, did I?” He wipes at the fabric of your pants with his hands, grimacing at himself as in the process, as he actually does brush some grease on it, making him panic slightly. “Shit,” he mutters but you stop him before he can apologize again or spread even more black gunk on you.
“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh, his display of sudden clumsiness making you relax again. He stands up straight, scratching at his neck before collecting himself and moving to the back of your Buick.
“It’s good to go now. Just let go of the brake and steer, alright?” he yells from the back and then the car is slowly rolling. You can’t help stealing a glance at him through your rearview mirror.
His brows are furrowed and the muscles in his shoulders are tensed as he’s pushing the car by its bumper. You can even make out the vein on his forehead popping out a little. The fact that you’ve always had a thing for feats of strength is almost making you forget to steer until his voice forces your eyes to snap back to the garage in front of you.
“Little to the left,” he yells and you comply, maneuvering your car into the workspace.
You pull the handbrake and get out of the driver's seat once you’re in a good spot.
“I’ll pay to get your jeans cleaned,” he tells you with a lopsided smile as he eyes your soiled pants before he walks to the front of your Buick.
“Let’s take a look at your baby,” he says as he yanks open the hood. “I already have a suspicion.”
While he’s checking out the engine compartment, you take a stroll around the shop, trying to pass the time and ignore the dread blooming in your chest about how much this repair is going to cost you.
On the wall behind the counter you spot the usual sexy calendars of women in pin up clothing posing on the hoods of old-timers. Maybe he’s just like all the other mechanics you encountered after all. You quietly chuckle just as you spot another poster among the sexy ladies though. This one has a half-naked man propped against some motorcycle, probably a Harley Davidson. Oh, a man of varied tastes apparently. Feels a little out of place for this small town, once again.
When you hear the hood of your vehicle being slammed shut, you hurry back to the mechanic.
“Yup, I was right,” he tells you, trying to wipe some of his dark hair out of his face with the back of his hand, smearing grease on his forehead in the process. “Alternator’s shot.”
“That sounds … bad?” you reluctantly more so ask than state.
“It just needs to be replaced. Good news first, it’s not a lot of work so I’ll be done in like an hour,” he lets you know. “Bad news - I need to order it in.”
You groan, but you are relieved to learn that at least it’s not as expensive as you feared. The fact that this part will only come in tomorrow though - Shit.
He types your information into his computer and places the order for the new alternator.
“Are there any hotels or something close by?” you ask him once he’s done and comes back around the counter to lean on it.
He shakes his head with an apologetic look on his face. “The closest motel is like two towns over. And it’s a bit of a shit hole.”
That doesn’t sound too inviting, but given your choices, what else are you supposed to do?
“Can you give me the address? I’ll get an Uber to drive me there I guess.”
“Good luck on finding any Ubers out here. We’re basically out of their operating zone.”
Your shoulders slump in defeat as you let your hand holding your phone drop to your side again.
“I’ll take you,” he offers, already on his way to your Buick. “Get your bag.”
You would usually not consider getting into a car with a stranger, but your options are kind of limited here. He can probably sense your hesitation, because he cocks his head to the side and smiles. “Wouldn’t advise accepting rides from strangers, but I can’t have you stay on the street,” he speaks up. “I’m Jungkook, by the way. I’ll give you my ID and everything, you can send it to a friend with your location.”
This won’t help you if he decides to murder you, but you are tired and in need of a shower, so you just sigh and open your car, quickly packing some things you need for an overnight stay into your backpack before shouldering it.
Apparently it’s time to close shop, or maybe he can just decide since he’s the only one in here, but he leads you out the back and locks the door behind him. You won’t question it, you are just glad that you will be able to rest soon. The long drive was becoming torturous anyway.
“Where’s your car?” you ask, looking around the street behind the garage.
Jungkook grins and points towards - oh please - a motorcycle. No way. Well, maybe that explains the leather jacket that he put on just before. You were wondering why he needed it in this scorching heat.
“Pretty, huh?” he muses when you look at him with wide eyes. “It’s a Fat Bob 114.”
Oh sure, whatever that string of random words means. He can’t seriously expect you to get on the back of this. For a moment, you reconsider just walking the streets tonight.
“I don’t even have a helmet,” you try to weasel your way out.
To no avail, since he produces one from behind his back and hands it to you. “Good thing I keep a spare around.”
He’s already stuffing his own backpack into the satchel on the side of the bike, while you fiddle with the helmet. You’ve never even put one on before and when you plop it down over your head, your hair gets caught in front of your eyes.
You hear Jungkook’s muffled laugh and then he steps in front of you, pulling the helmet back off.
“Lemme help,” he mutters while pushing your hair behind your ears while he clamps the headgear between his thighs to free his hands.
The intimate gesture brings heat up your neck and all you muster is a quiet “Thank you.” Then he gently pulls the helmet down and closes the plastic visor with a grin.
“All set,” he pats the top of the protective headwear before putting on his own. He swings his leg over the bike and motions for you to get on behind him.
“Just hold on to me,” he tells you.
You somewhat clumsily climb on and consider just gripping the side of the machine, but as soon as he turns his keys and the bike roars to life, your survival instinct kicks in and you sling your arms around his waist.
He pulls off into the street and soon you’re leaving behind the small town and with it your broken-down car.
Jungkook, thankfully, seems to be considerate of his passenger, because you are pretty sure he’s not even going the speed limit. You still cling on to him for dear life, probably choking him out, but he does not complain. You’re not particularly fond of not being encased in metal while on the road is what you’re learning right now.
After a few miles and your body starting to cramp from clutching on to Jungkook and the bike, you pull up in front of a motel. The parking lot is full of trucks, rarely any regular cars. Jungkook helps you off the motorcycle and takes off his helmet. He seems to be wondering about the amount of trucks, as he raises his eyebrow. Carefully, he removes your helmet for you as well before you can even try to do it yourself. Your hair feels damp and matted, making you cringe slightly as you run your fingers through it.
Jungkook retrieves his backpack from the satchel and pockets the keys.
“This must be a regular stop for truckers to rest, huh?” you wonder out loud to which Jungkook shakes his head.
“Not usually.”
Picking through the small compartment of your backpack, you finally find some tissues.
“Can I just..?” you ask Jungkook, gesturing towards his face with the towelette.
He seems to be confused but doesn’t stop you from wiping at his forehead. You clean the smear of grease off his skin and pocket the tissue.
“That’s better,” you smile at him and when he locks his big soft eyes with you, the corners of his mouth upturned, it makes you gulp. His gaze flickers down to your lips for just a fleeting moment.
With both helmets in hand, he walks you to the check-in counter, where you find the most unenthusiastic-looking clerk you’ve seen in your life.
“Hello,” you address him. “I need a room, please.”
“Really?” he responds in a mocking tone. “Who would’ve guessed that?”
Jungkook slams one of the helmets on the counter, startling the guy.
“Mind checking if you have any available?” he intervenes, a fake smile plastered on his face. One could mistake it for a snarl if it wasn’t for his politeness. With his hand planted firmly on the counter and the muscles in his arm tensed, the clerk seems to have taken the hint.
Woah. Apparently he’s not one to mess around with. It’s kind of hot.
“Alright, alright,” the clerk gives in, suddenly very meek and sheepish, and checks his computer.
“Seems like you’re out of luck, everything’s booked,” he shrugs his shoulders. “There’s some trucker meet-up happening close by, they basically overran the motel.”
Jungkook and you sigh simultaneously. What the hell are you supposed to do now? You really don’t want to go on another road trip if you can avoid it. He pulls out his phone, scrolling furiously, probably trying to figure out an alternative as well.
“Ah, wait,” the clerk suddenly perks up. “There’s someone checking out in a bit. Once we’ve cleaned up the room, it’s yours.”
Oh, thank god. You couldn’t care less that the place is run-down and the employee is a shithead. You’ll just shower and head to bed anyway, maybe scroll a bit on your phone. The aesthetic or lack thereof doesn’t really matter, unless you’ll find suspicious stains on the pillows. Which, to be fair, is not that unlikely, now that you think about it.
“We have a bar,” the employee tells you with an exasperated sigh, as if this was the hardest he’s ever had to work. “You can wait there. It’s gonna be like 2 hours max.”
You nod and turn to Jungkook, who looks a little disgruntled.
“Uhm, will you come pick me up again tomorrow? I kinda don’t have a ride.” The fact that he has to drive you again is gnawing at your pride, but he said it himself, no Ubers around.
He looks at you, quizzically.
“I’m not gonna let you wait around here by yourself,” he shakes his head. “I’ll stay with you until the room’s ready.”
Before you can even start arguing that you don’t need an escort, he’s already placed his hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the bar. For whatever reason you just let it happen. You’re a grown woman, you don’t need a white knight to look out for you. But also, some company would be nice instead of sitting around all alone, just waiting for time to pass. Since he’s also nice to look at, why shouldn’t you indulge a bit longer.
The bar is just as dingy as the rest of the place. All the seats are worn, tears across the old leather. The room reeks of stale smoke and cigars so bad that you scrunch your nose as you step in.
There’s two guys sitting at the bar drinking beer. By the looks of it it’s not the first one of the day either. Probably some of the truckers the clerk mentioned.
Jungkook pushes you into the booth of a table, sliding in next to you without taking his eyes off the dudes at the bar, and shrugs off his leather jacket. Sitting next to each other when you’re only two people has always been weird to you, makes it kind of awkward to chat.
“What do you want to drink?” he asks from beside you.
You take out your phone, checking the time. It’s 7 pm. You could do with a beer as well, so you tell him and he moves out of the seat to get your drinks.
You watch him from your table, only to realize that the two men are staring you down, one even cocks his eyebrows at you. Disgusting. You pull a face at him, but that doesn’t seem to deter him at all, grabbing at his junk while his mate laughs along.
Jungkook is watching this play out, you can tell when his back stiffens. He’s coming back with two beers in hand, immediately sitting down next to you on the bench again, so close this time that your thighs are touching.
“What are you doing?” you ask him, surprised when he puts his arm on the backrest behind you.
“Sorry, but I’m not gonna let those two sleazebags get the impression that you’re here by yourself, no chance,” he grumbles before picking up his glass and taking a big gulp.
The fact that he’s doing this only for show makes you feel a tinge of disappointment, which is just dumb. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself, also reaching for your beer, trying to relax with him being so close to you. It’s not because he’s making you uncomfortable, rather the opposite. You just seriously need to chill.
“How much was it?” you ask him, pointing to your drink, to which he just waves you off.
“Take it as compensation for me putting grease all over your jeans,” he smiles at you.
For a while you two just sit there, his arm around you, sipping away on your beer quietly. Jungkook shoots the gross dudes death glares every now and then. To which you are thankful because the thought of being in here alone with them makes you shiver. Maybe you were in need of a white knight actually. Just this once.
“So,” Jungkook breaks the surprisingly comfortable silence. “Judging by your plates, you’ve been on the road for a while, huh?”
You hum in agreement. “Just a road trip to visit an old friend of mine. Never been to this part of the country.”
“I can tell,” he laughs.
“And you?” you proceed to ask. “Have you ever been out of these parts?”
Jungkook’s fingers tapping away softly on your shoulder while he talks makes blood rush to your cheeks.
“Not really, I grew up around here. Only gone as far as the surrounding cities.”
“So you like living here then?”
He shrugs his shoulders as if he doesn’t really have an opinion on it.
“It’s just, you don’t seem like a small town kinda guy,” you continue when he stays silent.
“Now, why’s that?” he looks at you with a smirk, visibly amused now.
You just motion at his tattooed arm and the piercings, trying not to say anything he might take offense to. It’s his home after all.
Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be offended at all, because he chuckles at your assessment.
“You know, the next city is just like an hour’s drive away,” he lets you know between laughs. “We’re not cut off from civilization. Not totally.”
You chat away for a while, mostly just small talk. He never takes his arm off your shoulder while you learn that he owns and runs the repair shop by himself and you tell him that you’re in between jobs right now.
You’re laughing at a funny remark Jungkook dropped when the clerk pops his head in.
“Room’s ready,” he lets you know before he trudges away again.
“Before you try to argue - I’m walking you to the room.”
You figured.
So after picking up the key from the front desk, you make your way outside and up some stairs to find your assigned room with Jungkook close behind. On your way there, you can hear some loud bellowing laughter from behind doors as well as a smashing sound, as if a vase or something broke. This really doesn’t feel that welcoming after all, you think as you yank open the dilapidated door. It’s not even hanging straight in its hinges, so you have to lift it up slightly so it doesn’t catch on the floor. Yikes.
Both of you walk inside and Jungkook looks around the room after putting the helmets on a wobbly sideboard.
“What a nice view,” you joke, having walked up behind him to the window, looking down at the parking lot. The laughter gets caught in your throat when you can hear someone loudly fighting outside. When you peek out the window again, you see that it’s two big guys shoving each other and yelling, beer bottles in hand. Please let this night go by fast, you plead silently. You brought your earphones so hopefully you can drown out anything that might go on outside, be it murder or an orgy. You thank whoever invented noise cancelling in advance.
Jungkook turns to you. “Look,” he starts with a serious expression. You have a feeling you know where this is going, so you walk up to the sideboard and push his helmet towards him.
“Thank you for everything, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Jungkook shakes his head and doesn’t move even an inch.
“I can’t let you stay here,” he says, decidedly. “Not by yourself. You’ve seen the kind of guys that hang around here!”
You liked his savior antics earlier, but you still have some pride left.
“I’m not some damsel in distress in need of saving,” you scoff and walk to the door. “I’ll just lock up and sleep by myself like a big girl.” You jokingly wiggle the lock around before realizing it’s almost falling apart at your touch. Oh. This actually doesn’t bode well with you.
Jungkook looks at your wide eyes with a quirked brow, waiting for you to reconsider what you just told him. And you do. Damn.
Then there’s suddenly more clamor seemingly right outside your door. As if someone was crashing into the wall. The look in your eyes turns to pleading. Now you’re actually hoping Jungkook’s offer, whatever exactly it entails, still stands.
“I’ll stay. Don’t worry,” he reassures you as if he just read your mind. Probably not that hard, considering the situation.
“Thanks,” you mumble while looking around the room. There’s exactly one bed, a dresser with a tiny TV on it and what you assume to be the door to the bathroom. And a worn-out leather arm chair.
Jungkook follows your gaze and takes the words out of your mouth when he speaks up.
“I’ll just stay in the cuck chair, you can go ahead and go to sleep.”
The good old cuck chair, a must-have of any rented room that’s worth anything. What would people do without it? Although this one actually seems like it’s been in heavy use. Ew. At least you’re not the one having to sit in it.
To your horror, this stuffy room has no air conditioning, only a ceiling fan above the bed that barely does its job. Opening the window is no use at this time of night either, as it’s still hot out.
“I could never get used to this heat,” you huff and sit down at the edge of the mattress, causing the bedframe to squeak. “Don’t think I can even sleep while it’s this hot,” you add, groaning.
Jungkook brings his stuff over to his designated spot for the night to keep watch of the door or whatever his plan actually is. Your knight in shining armor, you scoff to yourself. The fact that you’re sharing a motel room with some stranger is outrageous and very much out of scope of what you had planned for this trip. Even if said stranger is nice to look at. You watch him from the corner of your eyes as you kick off your sneakers and pull your legs up on the bed into a criss-cross position. His white shirt has gone see-through in the back from sweat and it’s sticking to him. No wonder - he’s been wearing a leather jacket and also you clung to his back earlier like a koala while driving here.
It's only around 9 pm when you check your phone and start scrolling through various social media apps, quickly getting bored. Beads of sweat are forming on your forehead, you feel like you’re being boiled alive sitting here in jeans, but you’re not about to strip in front of Jungkook, who’s also taken his spot in the chair with his phone in hand.
“Hey, you want to get some more beer?” you ask him, sure that you’ll be up for quite a while and beer always makes you sleepy, so that might help.
“Sure,” he nods, walking over to you and holding his hand out. “We can get some from the bar.”
You let him help you off the bed and slip back into your shoes. It’s a quick trip, Jungkook never taking his arm off your waist as he walks you through the premises.
Equipped with 4 cold bottles of beer you return to your room where Jungkook immediately opens one for you with a lighter from his back pocket.
The cool liquid goes down smoothly, making you sigh in content as you sit down on the end of the bed so you can actually face him in his spot where he is currently holding the bottle against his neck in an effort to cool off.
Striking up a conversation while you down the first drink, you inquire further about his repair shop.
“It’s been in the family for a few generations,” he lets you know. “I’ve been around cars since I was little, back when it was my grandfather’s still.”
“Did you ever consider doing anything else? College or something?” you wonder.
Jungkook laughs at the idea. “I’m way too dumb for a degree. And I like getting my hands dirty. Manual labor takes my mind off of things. I enjoy it.”
You get it, the road trip was supposed to serve the same purpose - taking your mind off what’s been troubling you. Could’ve figured that driving by yourself for hours makes your thoughts race instead. Maybe you’re dumb too.
Jungkook asks about you being in between jobs then, since you mentioned it to him earlier.
“I quit so I could leave my place for a while. Wasn’t that great of a job anyway, so no loss there.”
You put the now empty bottle on the ground and flop back on the mattress with your eyes closed, letting the ceiling fan blow hot air around you for a bit.
“You alright?” Jungkook’s voice chimes up.
“Yeah,” you hum out from your horizontal position. Mostly thanks to him, you ponder and find yourself glad your car started going to shit in his vicinity and not some place else. You just chill for a moment, trying to drown out the ruckus outside of your room. You’re in here, safe, protected. Jungkook is pretty beefy, so you’re not too worried about any truckers trying to bust their way into here. The ones that crossed your way so far looked out of shape. Not that you’re judging, you probably wouldn’t opt for a gym session after driving for hours on end either.
“Thank you again,” you sit back up, feeling like you're admitting defeat. “For staying with me. I’m sorry for all the troubles.”
Jungkook only replies with a smile and hands you the second bottle of beer. “I didn’t have any plans for tonight anyway. Your company beats watching TV alone by miles.”
He’d probably have air conditioning though and wouldn’t have to swelter in this dump. His face is shiny from the sheen of sweat, making his dark hair stick to his forehead, which he brushes away with his fingers continuously. Actually, maybe you got lucky having him stuck here with you, cause the fabric sticking to his chest is … really something. You reluctantly peel your eyes away from his muscles, not trying to be a creep after all he’s done for you. Can’t be ogling him like one of those sleazy truckers did to you earlier. Maybe it’s the beer finding its way to your brain or you’re just really not better than a man.
Your body doesn’t feel much drier than him, though you are sure the sweat doesn’t look even half as attractive on you.
While sipping on your third beer, you talk about more benign things, discovering that Jungkook and you share a lot of favorite bands and musicians. During your conversation, he keeps putting the glass bottle up to his face like he did earlier, obviously uncomfortable from being hot.
The ceiling fan only swirls the hot air around, but on the bed and directly under it, it provides at least some relief from the unrelenting heat while he’s suffering in the cuck chair.
“You know you could just come sit on the bed, right?” you interrupt him waving his hand in front of his face like a makeshift fan.
He pauses, considering your offer, and then sighs. “Nah, I’m stinky from working, don’t want to make it all gross.”
“Please, I don’t want to find you melted into a puddle in that fucking chair tomorrow morning,” you joke. “Sounds like one hell of a clean-up. Also, who’s gonna fix my car if you perish from overheating?”
“I might not be the first dead body in that chair, now that I look at it,” he wrinkles his nose as he gets up and eyes the worn-out leather.
“But I’ll take a shower first, if that’s alright with you,” he finally gives in.
“Sure,” you nod. “Go ahead. Haven’t checked out the bathroom - hope you won’t come out dirtier than before.”
Jungkook chuckles as he makes his way into the little side-room.
While you hear the shower run, you empty your beer and shoot your friend a message that your arrival will be delayed because of your shitty car.
Shortly after the water turns off, Jungkook sheepishly peeks around the corner.
“My shirt is soaked,” he tells you with an apologetic smile. “I’ll air it out and put it back on, yeah?”
His coyness makes you burst into laughter. How cute.
“Jungkook, your shirt has been see-through for the last 2 hours, I’ve seen it all. Now don’t be stupid and come sit with me.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh and throws his moist t-shirt on the sideboard, hoping it will dry down, before putting his shoes and socks next to yours by the door.
“Which side are you gonna sleep on?” he asks you, making you raise an eyebrow.
“I’m not going to put my greasy ass down where you have to sleep,” he explains and gestures at the smears on his pants. “This bed is probably already gross enough.”
You take a tentative whiff of the pillowcase on your side. “It’s actually not so bad,” you shrug your shoulders before patting the mattress on the unoccupied half of the bed, urging him to finally come and sit.
So, in this incredible turn of events, you’re now sitting shoulder to shoulder with a shirtless small-town mechanic, watching TV in a decrepit motel.
Switching through countless porn channels, you finally happen upon re-runs of The X-Files, which makes both of you perk up in excitement.
“I love Gillian Anderson,” you gush as her glorious red hair appears on screen.
“I love David Duchovny,” Jungkook replies with a sigh. “Gillian’s not bad either.”
His remark doesn’t surprise you as you recall the very bisexual collection of raunchy calendars displayed in his shop.
You both settle against the headboard, getting comfortable, and dive into the episode, following along as Scully and Mulder track down a mutant man that’s hiding in vents to eat people’s livers. Mulder has just foiled the abomination’s attempt to murder some family when Jungkook’s head suddenly drops onto your shoulder.
You can tell he’s asleep by the way his body is slumped against yours. So much for watching the door, huh?
His soft, slow breathing is fanning over your neck and you decide to just let him nap, watching the intro to the next episode roll. That is, until your back starts to hurt from your current position, so you shift slightly, which startles Jungkook awake.
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,” he looks at you horrified when the initial post-nap confusion has worn off. “Did I drool on you?”
You assure him it’s fine and that he did not. Jungkook stands up and stretches his arms over his head, your eyes following the movement of his bared muscles as he does. He yawns and shuffles over to the window, cracking it open and sticking his head outside.
The clamor has calmed down it seems, no more yelling and fighting audible, you realize in relief.
“I think we can keep this open now,” Jungkook decides. “It has cooled down like… at least 1 degree.”
You agree, even if it won’t help with the warmth, some fresh air won’t hurt.
“You should try and get some sleep,” he proposes. “I’m guessing you still have some miles to drive tomorrow.”
He’s probably right and you can feel the beer you had swimming around in your head, relaxing your body.
Jungkook goes to switch off the big light and settles back into the cuck chair. Apparently he’s not planning on resuming his little nap but is back on duty.
You pull off your socks, leaving you in jeans and a shirt still, which is not your preferred way of going to bed. Since you’re still hot, you just lie down on top of the duvet, turning to your side and pulling up your legs.
“Good girl,” Jungkook coos at you from across the room and you can feel his smirk without even looking at him.
The minutes pass by and you just toss and turn, not able to wind down at all.
“Can’t sleep, huh?” Jungkook asks when you reach for the phone on your nightstand after the futile 30-minute attempt to drift off has gone nowhere. You’re uncomfortable in your clothes, sweating, and your mind keeps straying to exactly the places you’ve tried to outrun with your road trip.
Before you swing your legs off the bed you reach to turn on the lamp on the bedside table as you don’t dig sitting around in complete darkness. You’re in the process of stretching your neck and shoulders while Jungkook rummages through his backpack. It seems like he found what he was looking for because he perks up.
“Wanna smoke?” he asks you, holding up a pre-rolled joint with a bright smile on his face.
You laugh and go through your own bag, producing a ready-to-go spliff as well.
“I’m taking this as a Yes,” Jungkook chuckles and moves to the opened window where you join him. You squeeze past him so you can hop up on the windowsill, sitting with your legs dangling in the air and your side leaning against the window frame.
Jungkook rests his upper body against the other side before he fishes the lighter out of his pocket and ignites the joint between his lips.
Passing the doobie between each other, you pick up the topic of his shop again, still curious.
“You plan on staying in your town forever?” you ask him. “Like, just keep the garage going until you’re too old to work anymore?”
He takes a drag and huffs out some smoke while he thinks about it.
“I like the mechanic work,” he starts. “But I’m not really keen on living the rural town life for the rest of eternity.”
“I knew you weren’t the type.”
“Yeah. But I just can’t let go of the shop. I thought about selling it before, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It would probably kill my dad if I did.”
“He’d want you to be happy, no?”
He hums pensively, takes another hit and hands you the joint. Jungkook lets his fingers linger on yours for a moment when he does. His side is pressing into your thigh since there’s not much space in the window. The way his eyes are locked on yours is making your breath hitch and you almost choke on the smoke you inhaled. You cough, which makes him reach behind you to stroke your back. Your free hand grabs his naked shoulder while you recover from the coughing fit.
Once you catch your breath and sit back up straight, Jungkook doesn’t return to his spot next to you, but instead remains in front of you, basically between your legs.
His hand slides away from your back though, holding on to the windowsill next to your leg instead.
“I didn’t really quit my job for the trip,” you sigh, looking down at your dangling feet. The weed really seems to loosen up your tongue tonight. “Just couldn’t do it anymore, it kept burning me out to a pathetic pile of ash.”
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook earnestly tells you, squeezing your arm lightly in a comforting manner.
Apparently your weed-riddled brain decides to just lay out all your business to him, because before you can stop yourself, you are already dropping the rest of your recent lore.
“’M driving through the whole country to my friend’s place because I found out I got cheated on. The breakup hit me quite hard after such a long time together. Needed to get far, far away.”
“Must be a fucking idiot,” Jungkook shakes his head and tries to catch your gaze, which makes you lift your head when he starts to crouch to look up at you.
He moves closer to you then, making your knees spread further to accommodate his frame. After flicking the butt of the joint out of the window, he places his palm on your thigh while his other hand comes up and brushes some of your hair behind your ear. His head is cocked to the side and you’re locking eyes, with his fingers still resting softly against your cheek.
It’s like time freezes and then you’re suddenly leaning forward and your lips collide, slotting together effortlessly, like they were never meant to be apart to begin with. You sigh against him as if you’re letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding and he uses the moment to slip his tongue between your parted lips. His hand has wandered to your neck while yours found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, as your tongues dance against each other. All the stress of today just falls off you, like a lizard shedding his skin. The kiss is all-encompassing, leaving no room for any thoughts in your head other than taking away every inch of space between your bodies. As you make out, the palm on your thigh slowly caresses from your leg to your side and then back down to your ass, where it rests and squeezes ever so lightly. Even this soft touch makes your hips hitch towards Jungkook and you feel him smile against your mouth and exhale a laugh through his nose. You would be embarrassed if he wasn’t pressing himself into your crotch, holding you in place, obviously just as excited to feel you against his body. He nibbles on your lower lip before licking across it and then his face is suddenly gone from yours. You just stare at him all dumb and breathless, still entangled with him. His thumb brushes over your lip, wiping away the moisture left behind from the kiss and continues to put it in his mouth. You stifle a whine at the sight, trying to collect yourself at least a little bit, so you slide off the windowsill. Not taking into account Jungkook’s close proximity to you, the movement makes you rub yourself against his groin by accident. He’s not shy about the groan that leaves him at the contact, but he steps back a bit to give you space anyway.
“Want to give sleep another shot?” he asks you, brushing over your cheek one last time before removing his hand.
“Mhm,” you nod. “I’m gonna take a shower first though.”
“Good idea,” Jungkook sends you off with a pat to your ass, making your face heat up even more.
Oh, you really need a cold shower for more than one reason.
You finally step out of your sweaty clothes, dropping them in a pile on the bathroom floor. When the spray of water hits you, you sigh. It feels so good to finally wash away the grime. What you can’t rinse off is the tight feeling between your legs as you think about Jungkook, shirtless and sweaty, pressed to your body. You take a few minutes to just stand under the water raining down on you, fighting the urge to touch yourself, that’s how riled up the kiss has gotten you.
When you turn off the water and get out of the shower, you realize that there is only a small towel, nothing that could actually cover your body in any decent way. You only brought panties to the bathroom with you. The only thing you find attached to the door is a questionable bathrobe. Better than nothing, you think after inspecting and smelling it, deciding it’s clean. You quickly towel-dry your wet hair with the small cloth so you don’t look like a dog that got caught in the rain before slipping on your panties and the robe, closing it around you with its belt.
Jungkook has returned to the cuck chair when you come back out. He’s reclined back into it, leisurely stretching his spread legs out as he eyes you with heavy lids. He’s so fucking sexy lounging there in just his jeans, his upper body glazed by sweat, making his tattoo glisten in the dim light of the bedside lamp. You nibble on your lower lip absentmindedly, slowly stepping closer.
And he’s looking right back at you like he wants to ravish you. The slight tent in the front of his pants is reassuring proof that the kissing didn’t leave him unaffected either.
“Are you not hot in this?” he gestures at your robe while looking you up and down before sitting up straight.
“Are you not hot in your jeans?” you tease in response, making him chuckle.
“C’mere,” he curls his fingers at you to beckon you closer and your feet move before your brain even catches up.
Once you’re in reach, he grabs the belt of the bathrobe and pulls you into him, hands snaking to your backside when there’s no more room between you. He massages your ass cheeks through the soft fabric at an agonizingly slow pace and you’re already becoming impatient, so you take initiative and climb into his lap, your knees around his thighs. There’s just enough room in the chair for you to fit. With your arms locked around his neck, you immediately go in for another kiss, licking into him. Spurred on by your eagerness, his hands slip under your robe, making the belt slowly unravel with each movement of his palms against your naked skin underneath. You didn’t think it was possible in this heat, but you erupt in goosebumps when his fingers slide over your waist, up to the side of your breasts where he lets them linger before splaying them out to cup your tits.
“Your skin is so soft,” he mutters against your lips just as one of his digits brushes over a pert nipple, which makes you inhale a sharp breath. His mouth moves to the side of your neck, where he sucks on your skin, surely leaving behind bruises. The sensation makes you grind your hips down against his growing cock, craving friction. He groans into the crook of your neck, so you keep swiveling your lower body in his lap, both of your breathing increasing in speed as your arousal is escalating to new levels.
Finally, he’s had enough of the bathrobe covering his view of your body and when you let go of him, he slides it off your shoulders, dropping it to pool on the floor by his feet.
With your bare tits in front of his face, he hums in approval, his hands roaming the skin of your nude torso.
“Wow,” he sighs in appreciation, licking over his lips once before latching on to a nipple. The flicking of his tongue elicits a whimper from you and makes your back arch, pressing your chest closer to him.
You can feel the rough denim covering his dick though the thin fabric of your underwear, which is already going damp as you rub yourself over him again and again.
You lift yourself off his crotch, your hand finding his belt, undoing the buckle. When you struggle to open the fly of his pants one-handed, he removes his hand from your tit and looks up at you.
“You sure?” he asks you softly and when you nod, he helps you out by popping the button himself, so you just have to pull down the zipper. He lifts himself off the seat just enough to wriggle the jeans down to his thighs. His hard dick twitches excitedly when you palm him through his Calvin Klein boxers.
Jungkook reaches between you, his fingers finding your still clothed pussy, just ghosting over your core, tentatively. You instinctively press down into his touch, sighing, which impels him to run his digits over the moistened fabric harder. Feeling your arousal through the panties already, he pulls them to the side, giving him access to run his finger between your labia. “Like silk,” he muses quietly, before dipping in further, gathering your wetness.
“Dripping for me already,” he groans, his breath fanning over your neck now. “So fucking hot.”
His middle finger finds your entrance then and pushes in slowly before curling it once inside. You writhe in his hold, impatient to be filled by him. After pumping a few times, he slides in a second finger, the pads dragging across your walls which each movement of his wrist, making you whine.
When the thirst for his cock takes over you, you reach down to the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down just far enough to free his hard dick. He moans lowly when you wrap your fingers around him, squeezing before giving him a determined tug, your thumb spreading precum across his tip.
His fingers slip out of you then, leaving you clenching around air. His hand comes up on top of yours on him, engulfing your smaller one completely, guiding your pumps. Your juices on his fingers add to the glide, every stroke along his length now producing a nasty squelching sound.
With his free hand, he fishes out his wallet from his jeans, producing a single condom. You basically rip it out of his fingers, tearing the package open with your teeth. After slapping his own hand away from his dick with the back of yours, you roll on the rubber.
He takes hold of your wrist and gently twists you palm up under his face, then lets a drop of spit fall into it. You spread the drool around his shaft before lining yourself up to the tip of his cock.
Jungkook grips on to your waist as you lower yourself down on him until you’re flush to his crotch. The stretch makes you whimper as he slides into you, his own head falling back on to the chair with his eyes closed.
“Shit,” he mutters, voice strained. “You feel amazing.”
That’s enough encouragement for you to start moving, your hips going in circles as you bounce up and down. His cock curves just the right way to rub over your g-spot each time you slam your ass down into him.
His fingers have wandered to your ass cheeks, kneading at the supple flesh. He’s not guiding your movement, he lets you take the reigns as you ride him like your life depends on it.
The damn cuck chair is restricting you though, your knees confined by the armrests, you can’t get into it the way you know would blow his fucking mind. When you lift yourself off his cock, his head shoots back up, looking at you quizzically as you move off his lap and lower yourself on the floor between his legs. He spreads them immediately, accommodating you kneeling before him.
You peel off the condom, throwing it aside, before bracing yourself on his thigh with one hand. His palm comes down to land on top of your fingers running over the muscle of his upper leg. He caresses your hand as you close in on his cock, poking out your tongue to give it tiny kitten licks all over. His gaze never leaves you when your lips finally close around his leaking tip and he immediately twitches in your mouth with a whimper. Your lips are wet from precum and you let them run over his tip and down his shaft before taking him in properly. While you work your way down his length, your tongue flat against it, small whine-like sounds keep escaping him, contrasting the low groans he huffed out before and it’s making your head swim with need.
You hollow out your cheeks, sucking him down as far as you can go, your tongue swirling over his frenulum and through his slit on every upwards move. He’s too big to get all of him into your mouth, so you wrap your fingers around the remaining length, aiding with flicks of your wrist.
The groans from earlier begin to mix in between the higher-pitched whimpering, his fingers gripping on to yours harder as you keep going.
Jungkook is staring at you through the whole blowjob, mouth slightly agape, his chest heaving.
“So damn pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he muses between huffs, his free hand tangling into the back of your hair.
The praise goes straight to your pussy, throbbing and feeling neglected. You’re sure though it’s not going to be for long while you keep bobbing your head. And you were right, because soon after he peels you off himself gently by your hair, his other hand helping you up. He pulls you closer to him, slotting his lips against yours for a lazy kiss with his fingers grazing your jaw.
After breaking the kiss, he gets up, his sweaty back sticking to the leather producing a moist squelch, taking you with him and walking you over to the bed while stepping out of his jeans and boxers on the way. He lays you down on your back with an arm around you.
This time it’s him getting on his knees at the end of the bed. Jungkook grabs you by your waist and pulls you towards him, your legs spread around his head. He removes the panties still bunched up next to your pussy, taking a deep whiff of them before tossing them aside. He dips his head between your thighs immediately, mumbling against your core.
“You smell like heaven,” you can barely make out, his voice muffled by your skin, but it’s enough to make you moan at the dirty compliment. Maybe you have a praise kink that you weren’t aware of before, because he’s driving you insane.
The last thing you see before your head falls on the mattress is his twinkling eyes looking at you with hunger-blown pupils. Then his mouth is on you, his tongue running along your slit, lapping up the gathered arousal. Each pass of his tongue is pulling you further into oblivion and when he finally sucks your clit between his lips, all you can do is gasp and grip the bedsheets. His nose is pressed to your pubic mound as he lavishes at your pussy, relentlessly flicking over your most sensitive spot. He’s really not wasting any time, already having you right on the edge.
He alternates between his tongue and his lips in a mind-numbing rhythm and then two of his fingers push into you as well. Feeling him press his fingertips into your walls and working your clit at the same time has you arching off the bed.
“Don’t stop,” you plead, your orgasm approaching in a rapid pace.
With one last curl of his fingers inside you, you clench around them and come on his face. Your thighs close around his head, caging him in as your hips lift off the mattress accompanied by a strangled whimper. Your body twitches helplessly as he keeps lapping at your clit, bordering on overstimulation as your orgasm slowly ebbs down and you finally have to push his face away from between your thighs.
“Fuck, I could eat you out forever,” he groans, his lips and chin dripping in spit and your wetness as he reluctantly detaches from you. “I can’t get enough of your pussy. So sweet.”
You laugh breathlessly, slumping back on to your elbows. “Yeah, I could tell.”
He comes up from the floor, his palm wrapped around his rock-hard cock, stroking himself. When he looks down on you with hooded eyes, you grab his arm and pull him down. Jungkook chuckles as he lands on top of you, holding himself up with one arm so he doesn’t crush you.
His leg slots between yours and his cock drags along your hip, smearing precum on your skin when he crashes your lips together. After feverishly letting your tongues tangle and bodies rub against each other, giving you time to recover, he pulls away and rolls onto his back. Using the moment, you grab a condom from your backpack next to the bed before you follow along, swinging your leg over his thighs to straddle him. You put the protection on him with gentle hands, only tugging lightly a single time when you’re done. Hovering just above his twitching cock then, you start exploring his torso, fingers running across his abs up to his chest, feeling the taut muscle contract under your hands. You trace the tattoo that goes from his arm, over his shoulder down to his pecks. His nipples are hardened and you can’t resist brushing over them, small, dark and stiff, contrasting his pale skin. His hips hitch up at the teasing touch, making his cock glide between your labia. He whimpers and curses under his breath as he keeps sliding along your pussy, still puffy from the orgasm. The tip of his dick catches on your clit with every hump, your body now moving in sync to his motions, increasing the delicious friction.
On your last slide downwards, you angle your hips and with you still being soaked and spit-slick, his cock enters you without resistance. His hands on your ass tighten their grip as he sucks in a harsh breath. You can’t hold back your own drawn-out moan as your pussy is finally being filled out again. With your fingers splayed on his abdomen for support, you lift up slightly just to slam back down. There’s no slow start, you’re not playing around, immediately gyrating your hips with every bounce, your pussy gripping his cock tightly like it’s trying to rip it off.
The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin, wet squelching every time you move back down on his cock and a symphony of both your moans echoing off the walls.
Jungkook lets you lead again, but after a while, he can’t help but thrust up into you, matching your rhythm and speed. You straighten out your back so you can reach behind you, cradling his balls, massaging them while you rock in his lap, before dipping down further to press into his taint firmly, pulling another whimper from him.
“Damn,” he presses out, his dick pumping into you. “You’re the best fucking ride of my life.”
With his cock dragging along your walls, you let yourself fall forward and his arms close around your lower back, holding you close. You rest your head against his shoulder, your ass still drawing circles on him, your cheeks ricocheting every time your hips meet. At this angle, your clit is now rubbing against him, making you gasp at the much-needed friction while he shoves into you from beneath. It doesn’t take long for you to get close again, so you grind down harder, chasing your high.
When your moans increase in volume, Jungkook digs his hands back into your ass.
“That’s it,” he breathes against your ear. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”
His words unravel you immediately, the coil in your stomach snapping and you come for a second time with a cry, the intensity almost overwhelming. Your pussy clenches around him tightly, making him groan through gritted teeth under you. You sob into his shoulder while you try to keep riding out your orgasm with trembling thighs and your whole body convulsing.
Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to calm down this time. With strong arms, he lifts you off him and on your back. He stares down at you with dark eyes as he positions himself between your legs before he grabs the back of your knees and basically folds you in half. Jungkook rams his cock back into you without warning, the bed creaking loudly under the pistoning of his hips. You can do nothing but take his delicious slams into your sensitive pussy, too fucked out to contribute, your breathing coming out in shallow huffs between moans.
With a particularly harsh thrust, you hear a bed slat crash into the floor. Jungkook doesn’t seem to care that he’s not only taking you apart, but also the bedframe, rapidly approaching his orgasm judging by the stuttered grunts that reverberate around you. You feel like you’re getting vertigo from Jungkook all over and inside you, the effects of you coming so hard still lingering, having you blissed out and your brain comfortably empty.
It doesn’t take long for his movements to go choppy.
“Fuck, how are you still so tight… so… perfect,” he struggles to grit out between heavy breaths before his hips still and he releases his load inside you accompanied by stuttered moans. The fingers on the back of your thighs dig into your skin, probably leaving marks, as he continues pumping into you sloppily until your pussy has milked every last drop of cum out of him and he can’t hold himself up any longer. His body gives out, trembling, and he lets go of your legs before collapsing on top of you.
With his face in the crook of your neck, he exhales a shaky, incredulous laugh. Your fingers tangle into the back of his hair, caressing his scalp while he comes down. You are close to drifting off with Jungkook’s weight pressing into you, a calming feeling washing over you, when his voice startles you awake again.
“Are you okay?” he asks you with a hoarse voice, lifting himself off you, taking off the condom and settling against your side instead. His arm finds your middle and he pulls you closer.
“Better than the bed,” you giggle sleepily.
Reluctantly, you move out of his embrace, not willing to risk having to continue your road trip with a bladder infection.
“I’ll be right back,” you let him know.
You traipse to the bathroom to pee and when you come back, Jungkook is on his back, snoring lightly. You quickly pull on a baggy t-shirt and some panties and climb back into bed, careful not to wake him. When you snuggle into his side, his mouth curls into a smile and he hums.
“I’m taking you to breakfast before we go back tomorrow,” he mumbles with a sleep-tinged voice before drifting back off.
Masterlist
A/N: Thank you so much for reading :] Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed, or if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask! <3
Summary: Your car breaks down in a rural town during a solo road trip and you barely manage to make it to the nearest repair shop. Jungkook, trusty mechanic and sweetheart, takes a look at your car and brings you to a - very icky - motel, where he can't bring himself to let you stay the night on your own...
Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, mechanic JK, manly JK while still being a cutie and a gentleman, this is pretty much a damsel in distress situation, there's a cuck chair again lmao but no cuck in sight this time, lots of sweat bc it's hot there!! they're both soaked in multiple ways, alcohol and weed, making out a little high, fingering, oral (both receiving), PiV, multiple positions, JK gets a bit unhinged and pussy drunk during the deed and pulls a few surprising moves, bit of dirty talk (good girl mentioned)
A/n: There's a lot of yapping and story building for a oneshot. We love a good build up in this house.
Wordcount: 10.4k
Masterlist
”No, no, no…,“ you plead with your car, stroking the plastic covering behind the steering wheel with one hand. “Please don’t do this to me, we’re almost there!”
The engine light had already lit up some miles back, but you decided to ignore it and just pray you’d make it to your destination. But now, after driving along empty country roads, seemingly endless, with only a few small towns in between breaking the monotony of the scenery, the lights on your dashboard start to flicker and the radio keeps cutting out.
“Shit,” you curse out loud before asking your phone for the directions to the nearest auto repair shop.
Your already shitty air con has totally given up. Beads of sweat are starting to collect on your upper lip as you follow google maps through the scorching heat. Thank god it’s only a few more miles until you pull into a small town off the desert road. This little hick town seems to just be made up of one main road, with a few homes off to the side.
“In 0,2 miles your destination will be on the left,” your navigation lets you know. A minute later you pull up in front of the repair shop with your Buick Century and turn off the ignition. You exhale in relief, at least you made it to the garage. You don’t want to imagine being stranded at the side of the road in the desert, not in this weather.
You let your head fall on the steering wheel that you are gripping with both hands, already worried about how much money you’re going to have to throw at your rust bucket. You step out of your vehicle finally, looking around. There’s what seems to be a small convenience store across the street, a man in denim dungarees and cowboy boots sitting in front of it, smoking. You snort - all that’s missing is a damn banjo.
What comes to your mind immediately is the horror movie cliché of a car breaking down in some rural backwater town and what happens after. You’ve watched countless of them - Wrong Turn, House of Wax, The Hills have Eyes. You don’t have any plans to end up as a final girl to a clan of inbred hillbilly psychos. Hopefully, whatever is wrong with your Buick is fixed quickly so you can be on your way.
You walk into the repair shop through a glass door next to a bigger gate for cars to enter and look around for an employee, unsuccessfully.
“Hello?” you ask into the empty space. There’s a front desk, but it’s unoccupied. Please, don’t let this place be actually closed down already for the day.
“Back here,” you suddenly hear a voice sounding from further back. Relieved, you scan the perimeters to find the source, peeking around a corner.
You find the actual workshop of the garage, multiple cars with open hoods standing around, but you don’t see anyone. Reluctantly, you walk between vehicles, not sure if you are even allowed in here, until you almost stumble over legs sticking out from under some Toyota sedan.
“Um, hi?” you address the jeans-clad legs.
“One sec,” a voice replies and a moment later you hear tools clanking to the floor before a man emerges from under the car.
And, well, he’s really not someone you expected to find in a rural backwater town. It’s not the outfit either, he’s just wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, both smeared with motor oil and grease. What surprises you is the fact that one of his arms is covered in tattoos, down to his fingers, and his ears are decked out in multiple silver hoops. He smiles at you, a piercing through the side of his lower lip, while he wipes his hands on the bandana tied to his pants.
Usually, when you have to bring in your rust bucket, the mechanics crack some sort of unfunny misogynistic joke at your expense before trying to rip you off with unnecessary repairs you didn’t ask for. So that is what you steel yourself for when you tell the dude that your Buick started breaking down as he walks you to the front of the shop.
He clicks open the automatic garage door and tells you to drive your car inside for him to inspect it.
But, shit. When you try to switch on the ignition, it’s dead.
The mechanic comes up to your rolled-down window. “Doesn’t start huh?”, he correctly assesses. “Put it in neutral, I can just push it inside.”
“Sorry,” you mumble, trying to move the shift stick to neutral, without success. It doesn’t budge without the engine being on.
You shrug your shoulders at him in a helpless manner, making him laugh. “Ah, automatic,” he hums before opening the driver door and pulling a screwdriver from the back pocket of his jeans.
Without warning, he’s suddenly in your lap, leaning over you to access the middle console. You would’ve moved out of the way had he warned you. But now this, admittedly very attractive, guy is brushing his tattooed arm against your thighs all non-chalant as he wriggles his screwdriver around the plastic by the gear stick. With one last satisfied hum, he finally moves the stick to the neutral position.
You just dumbly stare at him with hot cheeks when he retreats from your space again and he tells you about some manual switch he pushed. “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes when he sees your startled expression. “I didn’t get dirt on you, did I?” He wipes at the fabric of your pants with his hands, grimacing at himself as in the process, as he actually does brush some grease on it, making him panic slightly. “Shit,” he mutters but you stop him before he can apologize again or spread even more black gunk on you.
“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh, his display of sudden clumsiness making you relax again. He stands up straight, scratching at his neck before collecting himself and moving to the back of your Buick.
“It’s good to go now. Just let go of the brake and steer, alright?” he yells from the back and then the car is slowly rolling. You can’t help stealing a glance at him through your rearview mirror.
His brows are furrowed and the muscles in his shoulders are tensed as he’s pushing the car by its bumper. You can even make out the vein on his forehead popping out a little. The fact that you’ve always had a thing for feats of strength is almost making you forget to steer until his voice forces your eyes to snap back to the garage in front of you.
“Little to the left,” he yells and you comply, maneuvering your car into the workspace.
You pull the handbrake and get out of the driver's seat once you’re in a good spot.
“I’ll pay to get your jeans cleaned,” he tells you with a lopsided smile as he eyes your soiled pants before he walks to the front of your Buick.
“Let’s take a look at your baby,” he says as he yanks open the hood. “I already have a suspicion.”
While he’s checking out the engine compartment, you take a stroll around the shop, trying to pass the time and ignore the dread blooming in your chest about how much this repair is going to cost you.
On the wall behind the counter you spot the usual sexy calendars of women in pin up clothing posing on the hoods of old-timers. Maybe he’s just like all the other mechanics you encountered after all. You quietly chuckle just as you spot another poster among the sexy ladies though. This one has a half-naked man propped against some motorcycle, probably a Harley Davidson. Oh, a man of varied tastes apparently. Feels a little out of place for this small town, once again.
When you hear the hood of your vehicle being slammed shut, you hurry back to the mechanic.
“Yup, I was right,” he tells you, trying to wipe some of his dark hair out of his face with the back of his hand, smearing grease on his forehead in the process. “Alternator’s shot.”
“That sounds … bad?” you reluctantly more so ask than state.
“It just needs to be replaced. Good news first, it’s not a lot of work so I’ll be done in like an hour,” he lets you know. “Bad news - I need to order it in.”
You groan, but you are relieved to learn that at least it’s not as expensive as you feared. The fact that this part will only come in tomorrow though - Shit.
He types your information into his computer and places the order for the new alternator.
“Are there any hotels or something close by?” you ask him once he’s done and comes back around the counter to lean on it.
He shakes his head with an apologetic look on his face. “The closest motel is like two towns over. And it’s a bit of a shit hole.”
That doesn’t sound too inviting, but given your choices, what else are you supposed to do?
“Can you give me the address? I’ll get an Uber to drive me there I guess.”
“Good luck on finding any Ubers out here. We’re basically out of their operating zone.”
Your shoulders slump in defeat as you let your hand holding your phone drop to your side again.
“I’ll take you,” he offers, already on his way to your Buick. “Get your bag.”
You would usually not consider getting into a car with a stranger, but your options are kind of limited here. He can probably sense your hesitation, because he cocks his head to the side and smiles. “Wouldn’t advise accepting rides from strangers, but I can’t have you stay on the street,” he speaks up. “I’m Jungkook, by the way. I’ll give you my ID and everything, you can send it to a friend with your location.”
This won’t help you if he decides to murder you, but you are tired and in need of a shower, so you just sigh and open your car, quickly packing some things you need for an overnight stay into your backpack before shouldering it.
Apparently it’s time to close shop, or maybe he can just decide since he’s the only one in here, but he leads you out the back and locks the door behind him. You won’t question it, you are just glad that you will be able to rest soon. The long drive was becoming torturous anyway.
“Where’s your car?” you ask, looking around the street behind the garage.
Jungkook grins and points towards - oh please - a motorcycle. No way. Well, maybe that explains the leather jacket that he put on just before. You were wondering why he needed it in this scorching heat.
“Pretty, huh?” he muses when you look at him with wide eyes. “It’s a Fat Bob 114.”
Oh sure, whatever that string of random words means. He can’t seriously expect you to get on the back of this. For a moment, you reconsider just walking the streets tonight.
“I don’t even have a helmet,” you try to weasel your way out.
To no avail, since he produces one from behind his back and hands it to you. “Good thing I keep a spare around.”
He’s already stuffing his own backpack into the satchel on the side of the bike, while you fiddle with the helmet. You’ve never even put one on before and when you plop it down over your head, your hair gets caught in front of your eyes.
You hear Jungkook’s muffled laugh and then he steps in front of you, pulling the helmet back off.
“Lemme help,” he mutters while pushing your hair behind your ears while he clamps the headgear between his thighs to free his hands.
The intimate gesture brings heat up your neck and all you muster is a quiet “Thank you.” Then he gently pulls the helmet down and closes the plastic visor with a grin.
“All set,” he pats the top of the protective headwear before putting on his own. He swings his leg over the bike and motions for you to get on behind him.
“Just hold on to me,” he tells you.
You somewhat clumsily climb on and consider just gripping the side of the machine, but as soon as he turns his keys and the bike roars to life, your survival instinct kicks in and you sling your arms around his waist.
He pulls off into the street and soon you’re leaving behind the small town and with it your broken-down car.
Jungkook, thankfully, seems to be considerate of his passenger, because you are pretty sure he’s not even going the speed limit. You still cling on to him for dear life, probably choking him out, but he does not complain. You’re not particularly fond of not being encased in metal while on the road is what you’re learning right now.
After a few miles and your body starting to cramp from clutching on to Jungkook and the bike, you pull up in front of a motel. The parking lot is full of trucks, rarely any regular cars. Jungkook helps you off the motorcycle and takes off his helmet. He seems to be wondering about the amount of trucks, as he raises his eyebrow. Carefully, he removes your helmet for you as well before you can even try to do it yourself. Your hair feels damp and matted, making you cringe slightly as you run your fingers through it.
Jungkook retrieves his backpack from the satchel and pockets the keys.
“This must be a regular stop for truckers to rest, huh?” you wonder out loud to which Jungkook shakes his head.
“Not usually.”
Picking through the small compartment of your backpack, you finally find some tissues.
“Can I just..?” you ask Jungkook, gesturing towards his face with the towelette.
He seems to be confused but doesn’t stop you from wiping at his forehead. You clean the smear of grease off his skin and pocket the tissue.
“That’s better,” you smile at him and when he locks his big soft eyes with you, the corners of his mouth upturned, it makes you gulp. His gaze flickers down to your lips for just a fleeting moment.
With both helmets in hand, he walks you to the check-in counter, where you find the most unenthusiastic-looking clerk you’ve seen in your life.
“Hello,” you address him. “I need a room, please.”
“Really?” he responds in a mocking tone. “Who would’ve guessed that?”
Jungkook slams one of the helmets on the counter, startling the guy.
“Mind checking if you have any available?” he intervenes, a fake smile plastered on his face. One could mistake it for a snarl if it wasn’t for his politeness. With his hand planted firmly on the counter and the muscles in his arm tensed, the clerk seems to have taken the hint.
Woah. Apparently he’s not one to mess around with. It’s kind of hot.
“Alright, alright,” the clerk gives in, suddenly very meek and sheepish, and checks his computer.
“Seems like you’re out of luck, everything’s booked,” he shrugs his shoulders. “There’s some trucker meet-up happening close by, they basically overran the motel.”
Jungkook and you sigh simultaneously. What the hell are you supposed to do now? You really don’t want to go on another road trip if you can avoid it. He pulls out his phone, scrolling furiously, probably trying to figure out an alternative as well.
“Ah, wait,” the clerk suddenly perks up. “There’s someone checking out in a bit. Once we’ve cleaned up the room, it’s yours.”
Oh, thank god. You couldn’t care less that the place is run-down and the employee is a shithead. You’ll just shower and head to bed anyway, maybe scroll a bit on your phone. The aesthetic or lack thereof doesn’t really matter, unless you’ll find suspicious stains on the pillows. Which, to be fair, is not that unlikely, now that you think about it.
“We have a bar,” the employee tells you with an exasperated sigh, as if this was the hardest he’s ever had to work. “You can wait there. It’s gonna be like 2 hours max.”
You nod and turn to Jungkook, who looks a little disgruntled.
“Uhm, will you come pick me up again tomorrow? I kinda don’t have a ride.” The fact that he has to drive you again is gnawing at your pride, but he said it himself, no Ubers around.
He looks at you, quizzically.
“I’m not gonna let you wait around here by yourself,” he shakes his head. “I’ll stay with you until the room’s ready.”
Before you can even start arguing that you don’t need an escort, he’s already placed his hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the bar. For whatever reason you just let it happen. You’re a grown woman, you don’t need a white knight to look out for you. But also, some company would be nice instead of sitting around all alone, just waiting for time to pass. Since he’s also nice to look at, why shouldn’t you indulge a bit longer.
The bar is just as dingy as the rest of the place. All the seats are worn, tears across the old leather. The room reeks of stale smoke and cigars so bad that you scrunch your nose as you step in.
There’s two guys sitting at the bar drinking beer. By the looks of it it’s not the first one of the day either. Probably some of the truckers the clerk mentioned.
Jungkook pushes you into the booth of a table, sliding in next to you without taking his eyes off the dudes at the bar, and shrugs off his leather jacket. Sitting next to each other when you’re only two people has always been weird to you, makes it kind of awkward to chat.
“What do you want to drink?” he asks from beside you.
You take out your phone, checking the time. It’s 7 pm. You could do with a beer as well, so you tell him and he moves out of the seat to get your drinks.
You watch him from your table, only to realize that the two men are staring you down, one even cocks his eyebrows at you. Disgusting. You pull a face at him, but that doesn’t seem to deter him at all, grabbing at his junk while his mate laughs along.
Jungkook is watching this play out, you can tell when his back stiffens. He’s coming back with two beers in hand, immediately sitting down next to you on the bench again, so close this time that your thighs are touching.
“What are you doing?” you ask him, surprised when he puts his arm on the backrest behind you.
“Sorry, but I’m not gonna let those two sleazebags get the impression that you’re here by yourself, no chance,” he grumbles before picking up his glass and taking a big gulp.
The fact that he’s doing this only for show makes you feel a tinge of disappointment, which is just dumb. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself, also reaching for your beer, trying to relax with him being so close to you. It’s not because he’s making you uncomfortable, rather the opposite. You just seriously need to chill.
“How much was it?” you ask him, pointing to your drink, to which he just waves you off.
“Take it as compensation for me putting grease all over your jeans,” he smiles at you.
For a while you two just sit there, his arm around you, sipping away on your beer quietly. Jungkook shoots the gross dudes death glares every now and then. To which you are thankful because the thought of being in here alone with them makes you shiver. Maybe you were in need of a white knight actually. Just this once.
“So,” Jungkook breaks the surprisingly comfortable silence. “Judging by your plates, you’ve been on the road for a while, huh?”
You hum in agreement. “Just a road trip to visit an old friend of mine. Never been to this part of the country.”
“I can tell,” he laughs.
“And you?” you proceed to ask. “Have you ever been out of these parts?”
Jungkook’s fingers tapping away softly on your shoulder while he talks makes blood rush to your cheeks.
“Not really, I grew up around here. Only gone as far as the surrounding cities.”
“So you like living here then?”
He shrugs his shoulders as if he doesn’t really have an opinion on it.
“It’s just, you don’t seem like a small town kinda guy,” you continue when he stays silent.
“Now, why’s that?” he looks at you with a smirk, visibly amused now.
You just motion at his tattooed arm and the piercings, trying not to say anything he might take offense to. It’s his home after all.
Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be offended at all, because he chuckles at your assessment.
“You know, the next city is just like an hour’s drive away,” he lets you know between laughs. “We’re not cut off from civilization. Not totally.”
You chat away for a while, mostly just small talk. He never takes his arm off your shoulder while you learn that he owns and runs the repair shop by himself and you tell him that you’re in between jobs right now.
You’re laughing at a funny remark Jungkook dropped when the clerk pops his head in.
“Room’s ready,” he lets you know before he trudges away again.
“Before you try to argue - I’m walking you to the room.”
You figured.
So after picking up the key from the front desk, you make your way outside and up some stairs to find your assigned room with Jungkook close behind. On your way there, you can hear some loud bellowing laughter from behind doors as well as a smashing sound, as if a vase or something broke. This really doesn’t feel that welcoming after all, you think as you yank open the dilapidated door. It’s not even hanging straight in its hinges, so you have to lift it up slightly so it doesn’t catch on the floor. Yikes.
Both of you walk inside and Jungkook looks around the room after putting the helmets on a wobbly sideboard.
“What a nice view,” you joke, having walked up behind him to the window, looking down at the parking lot. The laughter gets caught in your throat when you can hear someone loudly fighting outside. When you peek out the window again, you see that it’s two big guys shoving each other and yelling, beer bottles in hand. Please let this night go by fast, you plead silently. You brought your earphones so hopefully you can drown out anything that might go on outside, be it murder or an orgy. You thank whoever invented noise cancelling in advance.
Jungkook turns to you. “Look,” he starts with a serious expression. You have a feeling you know where this is going, so you walk up to the sideboard and push his helmet towards him.
“Thank you for everything, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Jungkook shakes his head and doesn’t move even an inch.
“I can’t let you stay here,” he says, decidedly. “Not by yourself. You’ve seen the kind of guys that hang around here!”
You liked his savior antics earlier, but you still have some pride left.
“I’m not some damsel in distress in need of saving,” you scoff and walk to the door. “I’ll just lock up and sleep by myself like a big girl.” You jokingly wiggle the lock around before realizing it’s almost falling apart at your touch. Oh. This actually doesn’t bode well with you.
Jungkook looks at your wide eyes with a quirked brow, waiting for you to reconsider what you just told him. And you do. Damn.
Then there’s suddenly more clamor seemingly right outside your door. As if someone was crashing into the wall. The look in your eyes turns to pleading. Now you’re actually hoping Jungkook’s offer, whatever exactly it entails, still stands.
“I’ll stay. Don’t worry,” he reassures you as if he just read your mind. Probably not that hard, considering the situation.
“Thanks,” you mumble while looking around the room. There’s exactly one bed, a dresser with a tiny TV on it and what you assume to be the door to the bathroom. And a worn-out leather arm chair.
Jungkook follows your gaze and takes the words out of your mouth when he speaks up.
“I’ll just stay in the cuck chair, you can go ahead and go to sleep.”
The good old cuck chair, a must-have of any rented room that’s worth anything. What would people do without it? Although this one actually seems like it’s been in heavy use. Ew. At least you’re not the one having to sit in it.
To your horror, this stuffy room has no air conditioning, only a ceiling fan above the bed that barely does its job. Opening the window is no use at this time of night either, as it’s still hot out.
“I could never get used to this heat,” you huff and sit down at the edge of the mattress, causing the bedframe to squeak. “Don’t think I can even sleep while it’s this hot,” you add, groaning.
Jungkook brings his stuff over to his designated spot for the night to keep watch of the door or whatever his plan actually is. Your knight in shining armor, you scoff to yourself. The fact that you’re sharing a motel room with some stranger is outrageous and very much out of scope of what you had planned for this trip. Even if said stranger is nice to look at. You watch him from the corner of your eyes as you kick off your sneakers and pull your legs up on the bed into a criss-cross position. His white shirt has gone see-through in the back from sweat and it’s sticking to him. No wonder - he’s been wearing a leather jacket and also you clung to his back earlier like a koala while driving here.
It's only around 9 pm when you check your phone and start scrolling through various social media apps, quickly getting bored. Beads of sweat are forming on your forehead, you feel like you’re being boiled alive sitting here in jeans, but you’re not about to strip in front of Jungkook, who’s also taken his spot in the chair with his phone in hand.
“Hey, you want to get some more beer?” you ask him, sure that you’ll be up for quite a while and beer always makes you sleepy, so that might help.
“Sure,” he nods, walking over to you and holding his hand out. “We can get some from the bar.”
You let him help you off the bed and slip back into your shoes. It’s a quick trip, Jungkook never taking his arm off your waist as he walks you through the premises.
Equipped with 4 cold bottles of beer you return to your room where Jungkook immediately opens one for you with a lighter from his back pocket.
The cool liquid goes down smoothly, making you sigh in content as you sit down on the end of the bed so you can actually face him in his spot where he is currently holding the bottle against his neck in an effort to cool off.
Striking up a conversation while you down the first drink, you inquire further about his repair shop.
“It’s been in the family for a few generations,” he lets you know. “I’ve been around cars since I was little, back when it was my grandfather’s still.”
“Did you ever consider doing anything else? College or something?” you wonder.
Jungkook laughs at the idea. “I’m way too dumb for a degree. And I like getting my hands dirty. Manual labor takes my mind off of things. I enjoy it.”
You get it, the road trip was supposed to serve the same purpose - taking your mind off what’s been troubling you. Could’ve figured that driving by yourself for hours makes your thoughts race instead. Maybe you’re dumb too.
Jungkook asks about you being in between jobs then, since you mentioned it to him earlier.
“I quit so I could leave my place for a while. Wasn’t that great of a job anyway, so no loss there.”
You put the now empty bottle on the ground and flop back on the mattress with your eyes closed, letting the ceiling fan blow hot air around you for a bit.
“You alright?” Jungkook’s voice chimes up.
“Yeah,” you hum out from your horizontal position. Mostly thanks to him, you ponder and find yourself glad your car started going to shit in his vicinity and not some place else. You just chill for a moment, trying to drown out the ruckus outside of your room. You’re in here, safe, protected. Jungkook is pretty beefy, so you’re not too worried about any truckers trying to bust their way into here. The ones that crossed your way so far looked out of shape. Not that you’re judging, you probably wouldn’t opt for a gym session after driving for hours on end either.
“Thank you again,” you sit back up, feeling like you're admitting defeat. “For staying with me. I’m sorry for all the troubles.”
Jungkook only replies with a smile and hands you the second bottle of beer. “I didn’t have any plans for tonight anyway. Your company beats watching TV alone by miles.”
He’d probably have air conditioning though and wouldn’t have to swelter in this dump. His face is shiny from the sheen of sweat, making his dark hair stick to his forehead, which he brushes away with his fingers continuously. Actually, maybe you got lucky having him stuck here with you, cause the fabric sticking to his chest is … really something. You reluctantly peel your eyes away from his muscles, not trying to be a creep after all he’s done for you. Can’t be ogling him like one of those sleazy truckers did to you earlier. Maybe it’s the beer finding its way to your brain or you’re just really not better than a man.
Your body doesn’t feel much drier than him, though you are sure the sweat doesn’t look even half as attractive on you.
While sipping on your third beer, you talk about more benign things, discovering that Jungkook and you share a lot of favorite bands and musicians. During your conversation, he keeps putting the glass bottle up to his face like he did earlier, obviously uncomfortable from being hot.
The ceiling fan only swirls the hot air around, but on the bed and directly under it, it provides at least some relief from the unrelenting heat while he’s suffering in the cuck chair.
“You know you could just come sit on the bed, right?” you interrupt him waving his hand in front of his face like a makeshift fan.
He pauses, considering your offer, and then sighs. “Nah, I’m stinky from working, don’t want to make it all gross.”
“Please, I don’t want to find you melted into a puddle in that fucking chair tomorrow morning,” you joke. “Sounds like one hell of a clean-up. Also, who’s gonna fix my car if you perish from overheating?”
“I might not be the first dead body in that chair, now that I look at it,” he wrinkles his nose as he gets up and eyes the worn-out leather.
“But I’ll take a shower first, if that’s alright with you,” he finally gives in.
“Sure,” you nod. “Go ahead. Haven’t checked out the bathroom - hope you won’t come out dirtier than before.”
Jungkook chuckles as he makes his way into the little side-room.
While you hear the shower run, you empty your beer and shoot your friend a message that your arrival will be delayed because of your shitty car.
Shortly after the water turns off, Jungkook sheepishly peeks around the corner.
“My shirt is soaked,” he tells you with an apologetic smile. “I’ll air it out and put it back on, yeah?”
His coyness makes you burst into laughter. How cute.
“Jungkook, your shirt has been see-through for the last 2 hours, I’ve seen it all. Now don’t be stupid and come sit with me.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh and throws his moist t-shirt on the sideboard, hoping it will dry down, before putting his shoes and socks next to yours by the door.
“Which side are you gonna sleep on?” he asks you, making you raise an eyebrow.
“I’m not going to put my greasy ass down where you have to sleep,” he explains and gestures at the smears on his pants. “This bed is probably already gross enough.”
You take a tentative whiff of the pillowcase on your side. “It’s actually not so bad,” you shrug your shoulders before patting the mattress on the unoccupied half of the bed, urging him to finally come and sit.
So, in this incredible turn of events, you’re now sitting shoulder to shoulder with a shirtless small-town mechanic, watching TV in a decrepit motel.
Switching through countless porn channels, you finally happen upon re-runs of The X-Files, which makes both of you perk up in excitement.
“I love Gillian Anderson,” you gush as her glorious red hair appears on screen.
“I love David Duchovny,” Jungkook replies with a sigh. “Gillian’s not bad either.”
His remark doesn’t surprise you as you recall the very bisexual collection of raunchy calendars displayed in his shop.
You both settle against the headboard, getting comfortable, and dive into the episode, following along as Scully and Mulder track down a mutant man that’s hiding in vents to eat people’s livers. Mulder has just foiled the abomination’s attempt to murder some family when Jungkook’s head suddenly drops onto your shoulder.
You can tell he’s asleep by the way his body is slumped against yours. So much for watching the door, huh?
His soft, slow breathing is fanning over your neck and you decide to just let him nap, watching the intro to the next episode roll. That is, until your back starts to hurt from your current position, so you shift slightly, which startles Jungkook awake.
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,” he looks at you horrified when the initial post-nap confusion has worn off. “Did I drool on you?”
You assure him it’s fine and that he did not. Jungkook stands up and stretches his arms over his head, your eyes following the movement of his bared muscles as he does. He yawns and shuffles over to the window, cracking it open and sticking his head outside.
The clamor has calmed down it seems, no more yelling and fighting audible, you realize in relief.
“I think we can keep this open now,” Jungkook decides. “It has cooled down like… at least 1 degree.”
You agree, even if it won’t help with the warmth, some fresh air won’t hurt.
“You should try and get some sleep,” he proposes. “I’m guessing you still have some miles to drive tomorrow.”
He’s probably right and you can feel the beer you had swimming around in your head, relaxing your body.
Jungkook goes to switch off the big light and settles back into the cuck chair. Apparently he’s not planning on resuming his little nap but is back on duty.
You pull off your socks, leaving you in jeans and a shirt still, which is not your preferred way of going to bed. Since you’re still hot, you just lie down on top of the duvet, turning to your side and pulling up your legs.
“Good girl,” Jungkook coos at you from across the room and you can feel his smirk without even looking at him.
The minutes pass by and you just toss and turn, not able to wind down at all.
“Can’t sleep, huh?” Jungkook asks when you reach for the phone on your nightstand after the futile 30-minute attempt to drift off has gone nowhere. You’re uncomfortable in your clothes, sweating, and your mind keeps straying to exactly the places you’ve tried to outrun with your road trip.
Before you swing your legs off the bed you reach to turn on the lamp on the bedside table as you don’t dig sitting around in complete darkness. You’re in the process of stretching your neck and shoulders while Jungkook rummages through his backpack. It seems like he found what he was looking for because he perks up.
“Wanna smoke?” he asks you, holding up a pre-rolled joint with a bright smile on his face.
You laugh and go through your own bag, producing a ready-to-go spliff as well.
“I’m taking this as a Yes,” Jungkook chuckles and moves to the opened window where you join him. You squeeze past him so you can hop up on the windowsill, sitting with your legs dangling in the air and your side leaning against the window frame.
Jungkook rests his upper body against the other side before he fishes the lighter out of his pocket and ignites the joint between his lips.
Passing the doobie between each other, you pick up the topic of his shop again, still curious.
“You plan on staying in your town forever?” you ask him. “Like, just keep the garage going until you’re too old to work anymore?”
He takes a drag and huffs out some smoke while he thinks about it.
“I like the mechanic work,” he starts. “But I’m not really keen on living the rural town life for the rest of eternity.”
“I knew you weren’t the type.”
“Yeah. But I just can’t let go of the shop. I thought about selling it before, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It would probably kill my dad if I did.”
“He’d want you to be happy, no?”
He hums pensively, takes another hit and hands you the joint. Jungkook lets his fingers linger on yours for a moment when he does. His side is pressing into your thigh since there’s not much space in the window. The way his eyes are locked on yours is making your breath hitch and you almost choke on the smoke you inhaled. You cough, which makes him reach behind you to stroke your back. Your free hand grabs his naked shoulder while you recover from the coughing fit.
Once you catch your breath and sit back up straight, Jungkook doesn’t return to his spot next to you, but instead remains in front of you, basically between your legs.
His hand slides away from your back though, holding on to the windowsill next to your leg instead.
“I didn’t really quit my job for the trip,” you sigh, looking down at your dangling feet. The weed really seems to loosen up your tongue tonight. “Just couldn’t do it anymore, it kept burning me out to a pathetic pile of ash.”
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook earnestly tells you, squeezing your arm lightly in a comforting manner.
Apparently your weed-riddled brain decides to just lay out all your business to him, because before you can stop yourself, you are already dropping the rest of your recent lore.
“’M driving through the whole country to my friend’s place because I found out I got cheated on. The breakup hit me quite hard after such a long time together. Needed to get far, far away.”
“Must be a fucking idiot,” Jungkook shakes his head and tries to catch your gaze, which makes you lift your head when he starts to crouch to look up at you.
He moves closer to you then, making your knees spread further to accommodate his frame. After flicking the butt of the joint out of the window, he places his palm on your thigh while his other hand comes up and brushes some of your hair behind your ear. His head is cocked to the side and you’re locking eyes, with his fingers still resting softly against your cheek.
It’s like time freezes and then you’re suddenly leaning forward and your lips collide, slotting together effortlessly, like they were never meant to be apart to begin with. You sigh against him as if you’re letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding and he uses the moment to slip his tongue between your parted lips. His hand has wandered to your neck while yours found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, as your tongues dance against each other. All the stress of today just falls off you, like a lizard shedding his skin. The kiss is all-encompassing, leaving no room for any thoughts in your head other than taking away every inch of space between your bodies. As you make out, the palm on your thigh slowly caresses from your leg to your side and then back down to your ass, where it rests and squeezes ever so lightly. Even this soft touch makes your hips hitch towards Jungkook and you feel him smile against your mouth and exhale a laugh through his nose. You would be embarrassed if he wasn’t pressing himself into your crotch, holding you in place, obviously just as excited to feel you against his body. He nibbles on your lower lip before licking across it and then his face is suddenly gone from yours. You just stare at him all dumb and breathless, still entangled with him. His thumb brushes over your lip, wiping away the moisture left behind from the kiss and continues to put it in his mouth. You stifle a whine at the sight, trying to collect yourself at least a little bit, so you slide off the windowsill. Not taking into account Jungkook’s close proximity to you, the movement makes you rub yourself against his groin by accident. He’s not shy about the groan that leaves him at the contact, but he steps back a bit to give you space anyway.
“Want to give sleep another shot?” he asks you, brushing over your cheek one last time before removing his hand.
“Mhm,” you nod. “I’m gonna take a shower first though.”
“Good idea,” Jungkook sends you off with a pat to your ass, making your face heat up even more.
Oh, you really need a cold shower for more than one reason.
You finally step out of your sweaty clothes, dropping them in a pile on the bathroom floor. When the spray of water hits you, you sigh. It feels so good to finally wash away the grime. What you can’t rinse off is the tight feeling between your legs as you think about Jungkook, shirtless and sweaty, pressed to your body. You take a few minutes to just stand under the water raining down on you, fighting the urge to touch yourself, that’s how riled up the kiss has gotten you.
When you turn off the water and get out of the shower, you realize that there is only a small towel, nothing that could actually cover your body in any decent way. You only brought panties to the bathroom with you. The only thing you find attached to the door is a questionable bathrobe. Better than nothing, you think after inspecting and smelling it, deciding it’s clean. You quickly towel-dry your wet hair with the small cloth so you don’t look like a dog that got caught in the rain before slipping on your panties and the robe, closing it around you with its belt.
Jungkook has returned to the cuck chair when you come back out. He’s reclined back into it, leisurely stretching his spread legs out as he eyes you with heavy lids. He’s so fucking sexy lounging there in just his jeans, his upper body glazed by sweat, making his tattoo glisten in the dim light of the bedside lamp. You nibble on your lower lip absentmindedly, slowly stepping closer.
And he’s looking right back at you like he wants to ravish you. The slight tent in the front of his pants is reassuring proof that the kissing didn’t leave him unaffected either.
“Are you not hot in this?” he gestures at your robe while looking you up and down before sitting up straight.
“Are you not hot in your jeans?” you tease in response, making him chuckle.
“C’mere,” he curls his fingers at you to beckon you closer and your feet move before your brain even catches up.
Once you’re in reach, he grabs the belt of the bathrobe and pulls you into him, hands snaking to your backside when there’s no more room between you. He massages your ass cheeks through the soft fabric at an agonizingly slow pace and you’re already becoming impatient, so you take initiative and climb into his lap, your knees around his thighs. There’s just enough room in the chair for you to fit. With your arms locked around his neck, you immediately go in for another kiss, licking into him. Spurred on by your eagerness, his hands slip under your robe, making the belt slowly unravel with each movement of his palms against your naked skin underneath. You didn’t think it was possible in this heat, but you erupt in goosebumps when his fingers slide over your waist, up to the side of your breasts where he lets them linger before splaying them out to cup your tits.
“Your skin is so soft,” he mutters against your lips just as one of his digits brushes over a pert nipple, which makes you inhale a sharp breath. His mouth moves to the side of your neck, where he sucks on your skin, surely leaving behind bruises. The sensation makes you grind your hips down against his growing cock, craving friction. He groans into the crook of your neck, so you keep swiveling your lower body in his lap, both of your breathing increasing in speed as your arousal is escalating to new levels.
Finally, he’s had enough of the bathrobe covering his view of your body and when you let go of him, he slides it off your shoulders, dropping it to pool on the floor by his feet.
With your bare tits in front of his face, he hums in approval, his hands roaming the skin of your nude torso.
“Wow,” he sighs in appreciation, licking over his lips once before latching on to a nipple. The flicking of his tongue elicits a whimper from you and makes your back arch, pressing your chest closer to him.
You can feel the rough denim covering his dick though the thin fabric of your underwear, which is already going damp as you rub yourself over him again and again.
You lift yourself off his crotch, your hand finding his belt, undoing the buckle. When you struggle to open the fly of his pants one-handed, he removes his hand from your tit and looks up at you.
“You sure?” he asks you softly and when you nod, he helps you out by popping the button himself, so you just have to pull down the zipper. He lifts himself off the seat just enough to wriggle the jeans down to his thighs. His hard dick twitches excitedly when you palm him through his Calvin Klein boxers.
Jungkook reaches between you, his fingers finding your still clothed pussy, just ghosting over your core, tentatively. You instinctively press down into his touch, sighing, which impels him to run his digits over the moistened fabric harder. Feeling your arousal through the panties already, he pulls them to the side, giving him access to run his finger between your labia. “Like silk,” he muses quietly, before dipping in further, gathering your wetness.
“Dripping for me already,” he groans, his breath fanning over your neck now. “So fucking hot.”
His middle finger finds your entrance then and pushes in slowly before curling it once inside. You writhe in his hold, impatient to be filled by him. After pumping a few times, he slides in a second finger, the pads dragging across your walls which each movement of his wrist, making you whine.
When the thirst for his cock takes over you, you reach down to the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down just far enough to free his hard dick. He moans lowly when you wrap your fingers around him, squeezing before giving him a determined tug, your thumb spreading precum across his tip.
His fingers slip out of you then, leaving you clenching around air. His hand comes up on top of yours on him, engulfing your smaller one completely, guiding your pumps. Your juices on his fingers add to the glide, every stroke along his length now producing a nasty squelching sound.
With his free hand, he fishes out his wallet from his jeans, producing a single condom. You basically rip it out of his fingers, tearing the package open with your teeth. After slapping his own hand away from his dick with the back of yours, you roll on the rubber.
He takes hold of your wrist and gently twists you palm up under his face, then lets a drop of spit fall into it. You spread the drool around his shaft before lining yourself up to the tip of his cock.
Jungkook grips on to your waist as you lower yourself down on him until you’re flush to his crotch. The stretch makes you whimper as he slides into you, his own head falling back on to the chair with his eyes closed.
“Shit,” he mutters, voice strained. “You feel amazing.”
That’s enough encouragement for you to start moving, your hips going in circles as you bounce up and down. His cock curves just the right way to rub over your g-spot each time you slam your ass down into him.
His fingers have wandered to your ass cheeks, kneading at the supple flesh. He’s not guiding your movement, he lets you take the reigns as you ride him like your life depends on it.
The damn cuck chair is restricting you though, your knees confined by the armrests, you can’t get into it the way you know would blow his fucking mind. When you lift yourself off his cock, his head shoots back up, looking at you quizzically as you move off his lap and lower yourself on the floor between his legs. He spreads them immediately, accommodating you kneeling before him.
You peel off the condom, throwing it aside, before bracing yourself on his thigh with one hand. His palm comes down to land on top of your fingers running over the muscle of his upper leg. He caresses your hand as you close in on his cock, poking out your tongue to give it tiny kitten licks all over. His gaze never leaves you when your lips finally close around his leaking tip and he immediately twitches in your mouth with a whimper. Your lips are wet from precum and you let them run over his tip and down his shaft before taking him in properly. While you work your way down his length, your tongue flat against it, small whine-like sounds keep escaping him, contrasting the low groans he huffed out before and it’s making your head swim with need.
You hollow out your cheeks, sucking him down as far as you can go, your tongue swirling over his frenulum and through his slit on every upwards move. He’s too big to get all of him into your mouth, so you wrap your fingers around the remaining length, aiding with flicks of your wrist.
The groans from earlier begin to mix in between the higher-pitched whimpering, his fingers gripping on to yours harder as you keep going.
Jungkook is staring at you through the whole blowjob, mouth slightly agape, his chest heaving.
“So damn pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he muses between huffs, his free hand tangling into the back of your hair.
The praise goes straight to your pussy, throbbing and feeling neglected. You’re sure though it’s not going to be for long while you keep bobbing your head. And you were right, because soon after he peels you off himself gently by your hair, his other hand helping you up. He pulls you closer to him, slotting his lips against yours for a lazy kiss with his fingers grazing your jaw.
After breaking the kiss, he gets up, his sweaty back sticking to the leather producing a moist squelch, taking you with him and walking you over to the bed while stepping out of his jeans and boxers on the way. He lays you down on your back with an arm around you.
This time it’s him getting on his knees at the end of the bed. Jungkook grabs you by your waist and pulls you towards him, your legs spread around his head. He removes the panties still bunched up next to your pussy, taking a deep whiff of them before tossing them aside. He dips his head between your thighs immediately, mumbling against your core.
“You smell like heaven,” you can barely make out, his voice muffled by your skin, but it’s enough to make you moan at the dirty compliment. Maybe you have a praise kink that you weren’t aware of before, because he’s driving you insane.
The last thing you see before your head falls on the mattress is his twinkling eyes looking at you with hunger-blown pupils. Then his mouth is on you, his tongue running along your slit, lapping up the gathered arousal. Each pass of his tongue is pulling you further into oblivion and when he finally sucks your clit between his lips, all you can do is gasp and grip the bedsheets. His nose is pressed to your pubic mound as he lavishes at your pussy, relentlessly flicking over your most sensitive spot. He’s really not wasting any time, already having you right on the edge.
He alternates between his tongue and his lips in a mind-numbing rhythm and then two of his fingers push into you as well. Feeling him press his fingertips into your walls and working your clit at the same time has you arching off the bed.
“Don’t stop,” you plead, your orgasm approaching in a rapid pace.
With one last curl of his fingers inside you, you clench around them and come on his face. Your thighs close around his head, caging him in as your hips lift off the mattress accompanied by a strangled whimper. Your body twitches helplessly as he keeps lapping at your clit, bordering on overstimulation as your orgasm slowly ebbs down and you finally have to push his face away from between your thighs.
“Fuck, I could eat you out forever,” he groans, his lips and chin dripping in spit and your wetness as he reluctantly detaches from you. “I can’t get enough of your pussy. So sweet.”
You laugh breathlessly, slumping back on to your elbows. “Yeah, I could tell.”
He comes up from the floor, his palm wrapped around his rock-hard cock, stroking himself. When he looks down on you with hooded eyes, you grab his arm and pull him down. Jungkook chuckles as he lands on top of you, holding himself up with one arm so he doesn’t crush you.
His leg slots between yours and his cock drags along your hip, smearing precum on your skin when he crashes your lips together. After feverishly letting your tongues tangle and bodies rub against each other, giving you time to recover, he pulls away and rolls onto his back. Using the moment, you grab a condom from your backpack next to the bed before you follow along, swinging your leg over his thighs to straddle him. You put the protection on him with gentle hands, only tugging lightly a single time when you’re done. Hovering just above his twitching cock then, you start exploring his torso, fingers running across his abs up to his chest, feeling the taut muscle contract under your hands. You trace the tattoo that goes from his arm, over his shoulder down to his pecks. His nipples are hardened and you can’t resist brushing over them, small, dark and stiff, contrasting his pale skin. His hips hitch up at the teasing touch, making his cock glide between your labia. He whimpers and curses under his breath as he keeps sliding along your pussy, still puffy from the orgasm. The tip of his dick catches on your clit with every hump, your body now moving in sync to his motions, increasing the delicious friction.
On your last slide downwards, you angle your hips and with you still being soaked and spit-slick, his cock enters you without resistance. His hands on your ass tighten their grip as he sucks in a harsh breath. You can’t hold back your own drawn-out moan as your pussy is finally being filled out again. With your fingers splayed on his abdomen for support, you lift up slightly just to slam back down. There’s no slow start, you’re not playing around, immediately gyrating your hips with every bounce, your pussy gripping his cock tightly like it’s trying to rip it off.
The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin, wet squelching every time you move back down on his cock and a symphony of both your moans echoing off the walls.
Jungkook lets you lead again, but after a while, he can’t help but thrust up into you, matching your rhythm and speed. You straighten out your back so you can reach behind you, cradling his balls, massaging them while you rock in his lap, before dipping down further to press into his taint firmly, pulling another whimper from him.
“Damn,” he presses out, his dick pumping into you. “You’re the best fucking ride of my life.”
With his cock dragging along your walls, you let yourself fall forward and his arms close around your lower back, holding you close. You rest your head against his shoulder, your ass still drawing circles on him, your cheeks ricocheting every time your hips meet. At this angle, your clit is now rubbing against him, making you gasp at the much-needed friction while he shoves into you from beneath. It doesn’t take long for you to get close again, so you grind down harder, chasing your high.
When your moans increase in volume, Jungkook digs his hands back into your ass.
“That’s it,” he breathes against your ear. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”
His words unravel you immediately, the coil in your stomach snapping and you come for a second time with a cry, the intensity almost overwhelming. Your pussy clenches around him tightly, making him groan through gritted teeth under you. You sob into his shoulder while you try to keep riding out your orgasm with trembling thighs and your whole body convulsing.
Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to calm down this time. With strong arms, he lifts you off him and on your back. He stares down at you with dark eyes as he positions himself between your legs before he grabs the back of your knees and basically folds you in half. Jungkook rams his cock back into you without warning, the bed creaking loudly under the pistoning of his hips. You can do nothing but take his delicious slams into your sensitive pussy, too fucked out to contribute, your breathing coming out in shallow huffs between moans.
With a particularly harsh thrust, you hear a bed slat crash into the floor. Jungkook doesn’t seem to care that he’s not only taking you apart, but also the bedframe, rapidly approaching his orgasm judging by the stuttered grunts that reverberate around you. You feel like you’re getting vertigo from Jungkook all over and inside you, the effects of you coming so hard still lingering, having you blissed out and your brain comfortably empty.
It doesn’t take long for his movements to go choppy.
“Fuck, how are you still so tight… so… perfect,” he struggles to grit out between heavy breaths before his hips still and he releases his load inside you accompanied by stuttered moans. The fingers on the back of your thighs dig into your skin, probably leaving marks, as he continues pumping into you sloppily until your pussy has milked every last drop of cum out of him and he can’t hold himself up any longer. His body gives out, trembling, and he lets go of your legs before collapsing on top of you.
With his face in the crook of your neck, he exhales a shaky, incredulous laugh. Your fingers tangle into the back of his hair, caressing his scalp while he comes down. You are close to drifting off with Jungkook’s weight pressing into you, a calming feeling washing over you, when his voice startles you awake again.
“Are you okay?” he asks you with a hoarse voice, lifting himself off you, taking off the condom and settling against your side instead. His arm finds your middle and he pulls you closer.
“Better than the bed,” you giggle sleepily.
Reluctantly, you move out of his embrace, not willing to risk having to continue your road trip with a bladder infection.
“I’ll be right back,” you let him know.
You traipse to the bathroom to pee and when you come back, Jungkook is on his back, snoring lightly. You quickly pull on a baggy t-shirt and some panties and climb back into bed, careful not to wake him. When you snuggle into his side, his mouth curls into a smile and he hums.
“I’m taking you to breakfast before we go back tomorrow,” he mumbles with a sleep-tinged voice before drifting back off.
Masterlist
A/N: Thank you so much for reading :] Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed, or if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask! <3
when the stoic and devastatingly handsome sir jeon jungkook is appointed as your personal knight, sworn to guard your royal highness with a will forged from steel, you quickly discover that his greatest strength may also be his most infuriating trait, he is utterly immune to you. no matter how tightly you lace your corset, he remains the perfect knight, eyes respectfully averted, jaw set like stone. but while sir jungkook may be a man of steel, you are a princess accustomed to getting what you want, and with every sinful intention of discovering whether even the realm’s most loyal knight could be brought to his knees for you.
⎯⎯ pairing: knight jungkook x princess y/n
warnings: erotica, forbidden medieval fantasy au, porn with plot, age gap, yearning, size difference, oral fixation (f.), unprotected sex, the princess is very horny, cold,dom!knight, bigdick!knight, breeding, pregnancy trope, war brutality, motherhood, subtle angst
word count: 20.5k
The great hall of the royal palace echoed with the murmurs of the assembled court. The King sat upon his throne, his stern gaze sweeping over the line of elite knights who had come to compete for the highest honor in the realm, becoming the personal protector of his only daughter, the princess, you.
The position was coveted for many reasons, but none more obvious than the princess herself.
Beauty had always been your burden as much as your blessing. Tales of it traveled farther than merchants and faster than ravens, crossing borders until even distant courts spoke your name with a mixture of admiration and longing. Princes penned verses in your honor without ever meeting you. Even seasoned knights, men hardened by war and duty, often found themselves disarmed by nothing more than a smile.
With your coronation fast approaching, the kingdom stood on the brink of celebration. It would be the grandest event seen in decades, drawing princes, dignitaries from every corner of the continent. Some would arrive seeking alliances. Most would arrive seeking you.
The prospect amused you more than it excited you.
“Protecting my daughter is not merely a matter of strength,” your father’s voice boomed through the hall. “It demands unyielding discipline and absolute loyalty. You will each face three trials. The princess herself will accompany you, so that you may prove your worth in her presence.”
Your eyes swept slowly across the line of knights standing before the throne, a faint mask of boredom kissing your beautiful face, certain that none of them would truly be able to handle you.
For years, entertaining yourself at the expense of knights had become something of a pastime. A lingering touch against a gauntleted hand, a mere whispered compliment that left disciplined warriors suddenly forgetting their own names. Watching them struggle to maintain their composure was endlessly amusing.
You had notoriously toyed with men like this, living wildly beneath the weight of your royal title, and your father knew this better than anyone. That was precisely why he had designed these trials.
He wasn’t simply looking for the strongest sword arm. He wanted a knight with sharp intellect and the rare ability to withstand your constant attempts to live life on your terms rather than as a perfectly mannered princess.
A small, intrigued smile played on your lips when the first few knights stepped forward. They were impressive in brute force, but you could already tell they would crumble the moment you decided to play.
Then he stepped forward.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
Even fully armored, with only his dark, piercing eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet, once his unflinching gaze met yours for a brief second, a strange spark ignited low in your belly. You tilted your head, studying those dark eyes with growing interest.
The first trial took place that very evening in the smaller banquet hall. Only a select few courtiers were present. You sat at the high table beside your father, sipping from a jeweled goblet.
Unknown to the competing knights, the King had arranged for one of the wine pitchers to be laced with a powerful sleeping draught. Harmless, but potent enough to leave the princess disoriented and vulnerable. Only the King, a few trusted advisors, and the princess herself knew of the plan.
The knights had been given only one instruction: protect the princess. No further details.
As the evening progressed, the effects of the draught began to take hold. Your thoughts grew pleasantly hazy, movements slower. The jeweled goblet nearly slipped from your grasp once before you caught it. A second time, you laughed at something that had not been particularly funny.
Several knights noticed. Some were too busy trying to appear vigilant, eyes constantly scanning the room for imaginary assassins.
A few noticed your condition and drew dangerously close. One insisted on helping you stand despite the fact that you had not asked for assistance. Another rested a hand against your lower back almost inappropriately while guiding you through the room. One knight even smiled when he realized how heavily you leaned upon him after stumbling.
The courtiers watched everything. So did the King.
You were beginning to feel genuinely annoyed when a tall figure stepped silently between you and yet another overeager knight.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
Unlike the others, he had not hovered around you all evening. He had remained where a royal protector belonged, close enough to intervene, distant enough to respect your space.
Dark eyes studied your face through the narrow opening of his helmet. “The princess has had enough wine,” he declared.
The knight beside you scoffed. “She seems perfectly fin—”
“She does not.”
You watched surprise flicker across the other knight’s face.
Sir Jungkook’s hand briefly closed around your forearm as you swayed, steadying you before immediately letting go the moment your balance returned.
Within moments he had summoned two ladies-in-waiting to accompany you back to your chambers. When another knight offered to carry you himself, Sir Jungkook declined on your behalf before you could even answer.
“Her reputation is as important as her safety.”
For the first time all evening, genuine curiosity stirred within you.
Most men saw opportunity when they looked at you. Some saw beauty, a few saw a future crown. Yet somehow, Sir Jeon Jungkook seemed to see only his duty.
As the ladies guided you toward the doorway, you glanced back over your shoulder.
“How noble of you, Sir Jungkook,” you teased, voice softened by the draught. “Are you always so resistant to temptation?”
His gaze never wavered. “My duty is to protect Your Highness.”
For reasons you could not quite explain, that response lingered in your thoughts far longer than any flirtatious remark ever had.
The final trial was, by all appearances, the simplest.
After weeks of staged attacks, hidden tests, the remaining candidates expected one final demonstration of skill. Some anticipated a duel. Others believed they would be sent to defend the princess from another fabricated threat. Instead, the King announced that the last trial would consist of a single week of personal duty beside the princess. No further explanation was offered.
The knights were disappointed.
You, however, knew exactly what your father was doing.
The trial was not designed to test strength or intelligence. It was designed to test restraint.
Most of the candidates failed within days. Some became overly eager whenever you requested their company.
Others ignored palace protocol the moment you suggested bending the rules. One knight allowed you to wander through the city market without informing the royal guard because he was too eager to please you. Another accepted an invitation to share wine in one of the palace balconies despite knowing perfectly well how improper it appeared. Every failure was carefully observed and quietly recorded.
Only one knight remained infuriatingly impossible.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
The more you watched him, the more determined you became to discover his weakness. Surely he had one. Everyone did.
At first, your attempts were harmless. During walks through the palace gardens, you lingered beside him instead of remaining ahead as protocol dictated. During meals, you directed most of your conversation toward him. More than once, you deliberately brushed your fingers against the steel of his gauntlet while speaking. Other knights would have turned crimson. Some would have stumbled over their own words.
Sir Jungkook merely stepped aside and continued his duties as though nothing had happened.
Perhaps it was the way every other knight had spent the past weeks attempting to impress you, the King, or the court.
Where others sought favor, he sought only to fulfill his duty. And thus, when the day of the final judgment arrived, the outcome surprised absolutely no one.
Your father rose slowly from his seat.
“Sir Jeon Jungkook,” he declared, voice echoing through the hall. “You have successfully completed all trials. You have shown not only strength and intellect, but the rare ability to anticipate danger and resist… temptation.” His gaze flicked briefly to you. “From this day forward, you are hereby appointed as the princess’s personal royal knight and protector. Guard her with your life. And may the gods help you.”
A murmur rippled through the court.
You turned toward Sir Jeon Jungkook, stepping just close enough that your crimson gown brushed his armor.
“Welcome to my service, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered so only he could hear. “I do hope you’re prepared. Resisting me may prove to be your greatest trial yet.”
His dark eyes held yours with unshakable strength. “I was under the impression I had already passed that one, Your Highness.”
—
Having Sir Jeon Jungkook follow you around all day wasn’t ideal.
It had not even been three months since his appointment as your royal knight, yet his constant, silent presence had already begun to grate on your nerves. He was always a towering shadow in dark armor, never more than a few steps behind. What annoyed you most was his utter lack of reaction.
No matter how boldly you flirted, no matter how you tightened your corset in front of him until your breasts nearly spilled over, no matter how many times you “accidentally” brushed against him, he remained perfectly composed.
What bothered you most of all was that you still had no idea what he looked like. Only those dark, intense eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet. The rest of him remained hidden behind steel, a constant, frustrating mystery.
The journey to the neighboring kingdom for the grand alliance celebration had been long and stifling. You rode in the royal ornate covered carriage borne by four strong horses and guarded on all sides. The extravagant gown you wore was beautiful but suffocating, the tight corset pressing against your ribs and making every breath feel like a struggle. Boredom weighed on you like lead.
Your dearest friend, Lady Isolde rode beside you in her own litter. She was to be wed in a month, and the two of you had spent the journey giggling like girls again, whispering behind silk curtains.
“He’s so tall,” Isolde teased, peeking through the gap toward where Sir Jeon Jungkook rode steadily beside your litter. “And those eyes… I wonder what the rest of him looks like under all that steel. Do you think he’s handsome, or just another brute?”
You laughed softly, though your gaze lingered on the narrow slit of Jungkook’s helmet, where those dark, intense eyes remained fixed forward.
“As if,” you replied, laced with mock boredom. “He’s far too proper. I could tighten my corset until my breasts nearly spill, and he wouldn’t even glance.”
Isolde giggled. “You should try. For science.”
Sir Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward the litter for the briefest second before returning forward. You smirked. Annoyed as you were by his constant, unflinching presence… you were also undeniably intrigued.
That night, after the feasting and music had died down and the royal party made camp near the forest’s edge, you slipped away, desperate for even a moment of peace, and determined to test just how far his restraint could stretch.
The air had grown chilly, carrying the faint bite of early autumn as you made your way to the forbidden stretch of the deep bend where the river water ran swift and dangerously deep. No one was permitted here after dark, especially not the princess.
You knew he would follow.
The heavy footsteps of armor soon echoed behind you on the rocky bank.
“Your Highness,” Sir Jungkook’s deep voice rang out, firm. “This area is strictly prohibited at night. The currents are treacherous and the water is far too cold. We must return to the palace at once.”
You barely looked at him. Your eyes were fastened upon the vast expanse of the river, moonlight dancing across its dark surface like scattered diamonds. You wanted nothing more than to feel the cool waves kissing your bare skin, to swim freely under the moon with no eyes judging you in, except his.
A small, unusually kind smile touched your lips as you turned toward him.
“Why don’t you join me, Sir Jungkook?” you asked softly, your voice carrying on the gentle night breeze. “Just for a little while. The water looks so peaceful tonight.”
Sir Jungkook stood like a statue in his dark armor. “Your Highness… that would be highly improper,” he replied, voice low. “I am here to protect you, not to… bathe with you.”
You let out a soft, melodic laugh and began walking toward the river’s edge, the hem of your gown brushing the grass.
“Well, I suppose then…” you bit your lip, your fingers moving to the laces of your gown with aching slowness. “I shall swim, and you will stand guard like the loyal knight you are.”
You could feel his intense eyes watching through the narrow slit of his helmet as you loosened the ties. The rich fabric slid from your shoulders like liquid silk, pooling at your feet.
Completely bare under the moonlight, you wore nothing beneath. Your skin glowed luminous and your full breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples already stiff from the cold night air. The curve of your waist flared into soft hips, and the smooth, delicate skin between your thighs was on full display.
Sir Jungkook immediately turned his head sharply away, staring fixedly into the dark trees.
“Your Highness!” His voice was strained. “This is highly inappropriate. I cannot allow—”
“You don’t have to allow anything,” you cut him off, dripping with defiance. “You’re not permitted to touch me while I’m bare. So you’ll just have to stand there.”
You waded into the river with a soft gasp. The icy water bit into your skin, but the thrill of rebellion pushed you forward. You swam out deeper, the cold making your body hypersensitive.
You glanced back at the bank. Sir Jungkook stood like a statue, head turned away, refusing to look at your naked form even once. His armored fists were clenched tightly at his sides.
A thrill of satisfaction ran through you.
You felt exhilarated. Free. And wickedly aware that the most disciplined man in the kingdom was standing on the bank, fighting not to look at you.
“Are you really going to stand there all night, Sir Jungkook? The water feels wonderful… and I’m all alone out here.” You swam further out, the cold water caressing every inch of your bare skin. A soft, content sigh escaped your lips.
It would be a plain lie if you said you weren’t at least a little relieved that he had followed you. The deep bend was no joke. its treacherous currents and deadly depth were feared even by The King. Yet here you were, aching to tear down the walls of the knight who refused to bend to your charms.
You floated lazily on your back, letting the moonlight kiss your bare skin. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you took your chance.
Once a subtle current tugged at your legs, you gasped dramatically, flailing your arms and letting out a soft, helpless cry. “Oh—!”
You fought back a giggle, pretending to be a damsel in distress, knowing the current wasn’t strong enough to truly endanger you. You wanted to see if you could finally crack his composure.
But the gods had other plans.
Without warning, a far more treacherous undercurrent slammed into you like a living beast. It dragged you under violently, twisting your body, filling your mouth and nose with icy water. Real panic surged through you as you lost your breath and sight in the black depths.
“Jungkook!” you screamed, the sound barely coherent as water rushed into your lungs. This time, it was no act.
Sir Jeon Jungkook did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. He plunged into the river fully armored, cutting through the violent current with powerful strokes. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking your naked body against his steel chest as he fought the river with raw, expert strength. You clung to him desperately, coughing and gasping as he dragged you back to the rocky bank.
The moment he pulled you ashore, his helmet caught on a low hanging branch and was ripped clean off.
You lay on the grass, gasping for air, when your eyes finally focused on the man hovering above you.
And you forgot how to breathe.
Sir Jeon Jungkook was devastatingly, unfairly handsome.
Wet raven black hair clung to his forehead and sharp, sculpted cheekbones. Water droplets traced the strong line of his jaw and dripped from sensual lips. His dark eyes, now fully exposed, were intense and beautiful, framed by long lashes and thick brows. A faint scar graced his left eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise perfect masculine beauty.
Before you could speak, he swiftly grabbed his crimson cloak and draped it over your naked body, covering you completely with careful reverence. His gaze remained locked strictly on your face, never once drifting to your exposed skin.
“Are you okay, Your Highness?” he asked, voice rough with concern. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he noticed the way you were staring at his now-bare face.
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The combination of the dangerous current, the shock of nearly drowning, and the overwhelming sight of your knight’s true face left you dizzy and speechless.
Your vision blurred. You passed out in his arms.
Sir Jungkook pulled you closer against his armored chest, one large hand gently brushed your wet hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you like a warrior carrying his lady, your head resting against his broad shoulder, body wrapped securely in his cloak, legs draped over his arm as he carried you back to his mare.
He mounted carefully, keeping you nestled safely against him as the horse began the journey back to the palace through secret paths.
You woke briefly as he laid you down on the thick rug before the hearth in your royal chambers. The fire was already roaring. You were still wrapped in his cloak, beneath it only a thin silk bandeau now clung to your body, the delicate material barely containing your breasts, pressing them together in a deep, soft cleavage that rose and fell with each shaky breath.
You trembled from the cold and the lingering shock of the river.
Sir Jeon Jungkook remained kneeling by the fire, his movements precise as he stoked the flames. Water dripped from his raven hair onto his armoured shoulders. Then he rose to his full, imposing height, towering, broad shouldered.
Without a word, he reached for his helmet, which rested upon a nearby oak chest, clearly intending to conceal his face once more.
“No,” you whispered, your voice soft yet commanding as you pushed yourself up on one elbow. “Do not put it back on.”
The knight paused, gloved hand hovering above the helm. His dark eyes met yours, intense and conflicted.
“Your Highness… it is not fitting for me to stand before you unveiled,” he said, his voice carrying the formal cadence of a sworn knight. “I must maintain the dignity of my position.”
You sat up fully, the cloak slipping slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin and the edge of the silk bandeau. Despite the cold still clinging to your bones, warmth bloomed low in your belly as you gazed upon his face, truly beheld it for the first time.
“Come closer,” You rose to your knees on the rug, the cloak parting further as you reached for him. “Let me see you properly.”
He hesitated, every line of his powerful frame taut with restraint. Yet he obeyed, lowering himself once more to kneel before you. Even on his knees, he remained nearly at your eye level, so tall and broad was he.
You lifted a delicate hand and brushed your fingers through his damp raven locks, pushing them back from his forehead. A contented sigh escaped your lips.
“You are far too pleasing to look upon, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered, almost in awe. “I had wondered what lay beneath that steel. Never did I imagine such a face.”
Sir Jungkook remained perfectly still on his knees before you. His hands rested tensely on his armoured thighs as he fought to keep his gaze fixed on your face and not the way your breasts strained against the thin silk bandeau.
“You flatter me, Your Highness,” he replied, voice low. “But I am your knight. Nothing more. Please allow me to restore my helmet.”
You shook your head slowly, refusing to let him hide again. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers still buried in his damp raven hair.
A new, overwhelming wave of admiration and obsession washed over you. This man... this mature, hardened, breathtakingly handsome knight was kneeling before you like a devotee. The realization sent a fresh rush of heat between your thighs.
“You’re older than me, aren’t you?” you murmured softly, continuing to caress his hair with gentle strokes. “Hardened by battles and years I haven’t yet seen.”
You wondered how many more scars he carried beneath that heavy armor hidden across his broad chest, his strong back.
“I am twenty eight, Your Highness,” he answered quietly, his deep voice carrying that disciplined tone you were growing addicted to.
“Tell me something personal,” you said, your voice turning playful yet curious. Your fingers trailed from his hair down to trace his cheekbone once more. “Have you ever been with a woman, Sir Jeon? Truly been with one?”
His jaw tightened visibly. The question crossed every boundary a knight was sworn to respect.
“Your Highness… such questions are not appropriate for me to answer,” he replied. You leaned in even closer, still stroking his hair tenderly, your breath brushing against his skin.
“But I want to know,” you whispered. “Have you ever touched a woman the way a man touches a lover? Ever kissed one?”
Jungkook’s breathing grew slightly heavier. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours with iron discipline, though you could clearly see the storm brewing behind them.
“I have not, Your Highness,” he finally answered, voice low and honest. “My duty has always come first.”
A thrill ran through you at his confession. You let your fingers drift lower, brushing along his sharp jawline. “And if a woman wanted you… desperately?” your voice dropped to a near whisper. “If she wanted your mouth between her thighs… your tongue tasting her, would you deny her?”
The impure question hung heavy in the air between you. You shocked even yourself with how boldly it slipped out, but the vivid image, his devastatingly handsome face trapped between your legs, mouth glistening with your arousal made the heat bloom even more slick between your thighs.
Sir Jungkook’s hands clenched tighter on his armored thighs. A faint flush colored the tips of his ears and neck, but he remained on his knees.
“Your Highness,” he said, reverently, “I am sworn to protect you. Not to… indulge in such thoughts.”
You smiled softly. Then you leaned back on the bed, letting the crimson cloak fall open completely. The thin silk bandeau was the only thing left covering you, and even that felt too much now.
“Then I command you,” You looked down at him, this powerful knight on his knees before you, and felt a rush of pure need. “I want your mouth on me, Jungkook. Right now.”
“Your Highness, I—”
“Touch me,” you breathed, cutting him off. “Please, Jungkook…”
You reached down and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to your chest. Slowly, you pressed his large palm over the thin silk bandeau, letting him feel the soft, heavy weight of your breast. Your nipple was already painfully hard beneath the fabric.
Sir Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arm flexing under the armor as he fought against every instinct.
You didn’t stop there, dragging his hand lower, sliding it down your stomach until his fingers rested between your thighs. You were soaked. your petals slick and hot against his gloved fingers.
“Feel how damp you make me,” you whispered, voice shaking with need.
Sir Jungkook let out a low, strained groan. His dark eyes were fixed on your face, but you could see the violent war happening behind them.
The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on — the princess, the future queen, was laid out before him in nothing but a flimsy silk bandeau, legs spread, pressing his hand against her dripping cunt.
“Your Highness…” he rasped, albeit desperate. “This is beyond forbidden. You are royalty. I am sworn—”
“I don’t care,” you whimpered, grinding slowly against his gloved fingers. “I need you. I’ve never felt this way before. Touch me now, my knight. Please.”
His hand trembled. For a long moment, he simply rested there, feeling your wetness soak through the leather of his glove. Then, with a broken exhale that sounded like surrender, his fingers moved.
He stroked along your soaked folds, parting the delicate petals of your most secret flower. And what a flower it was... a lush, glistening rosebud blooming only for him. Your outer lips were soft and swollen with need, flushed deep, delicate like the first blush of dawn.
As he gently spread you open, the inner petals revealed themselves: silky, and impossibly tender, layered like the finest rose in full bloom after a summer rain. At the center lay your sweetest nectar, dripping and honeyed, flowing abundantly from your aching entrance.
The knight didn’t know what came over him, but your pulsing heat and slick, puckering folds had him utterly entranced. His breathing grew ragged. You could see the way his throat worked, the way his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. He was drooling.
“May I lick you, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with barely contained hunger. “Please… allow me to taste you.”
The desperate plea from such a disciplined man sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you.
“Yes,” you breathed, spreading your thighs wider for him, your voice trembling with raw need. “Use your mouth on me, Jungkook. Lick your princess until she cannot think.”
The moment the words left your lips, something in him broke. Sir Jungkook leaned in and dragged his hot, wet tongue slowly up your soaked slit. The first full taste of you pulled a deep, guttural groan from his chest. You were intoxicatingly sweet and dripping with arousal. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every slick fold as if he were drinking the finest wine in the kingdom.
You cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as overwhelming pleasure flooded your body. The sensation was brand new, so intense it made your legs twitch violently.
“Oh... Jungkook!” you moaned, fingers digging into his raven hair.
The knight’s tongue circled your swollen clit before sucking it gently into his mouth, then plunged inside your tight heat, ravishing you with slow, deep strokes. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth eagerly eating you echoed through the chamber, obscene, and shameless.
The most beautiful woman he had ever known, the future queen, was thrashing beneath him, legs shaking uncontrollably around his head, soft whimpers and loud moans spilling from her pretty lips.
Your hips rolled desperately against his face, coating his tongue, lips, and chin with your sweet release. Sir Jungkook drank every drop you gave him, groaning against your cunt as his own cock strained painfully against his armor.
He had never tasted anything so addictive.
You were already twitching, gasping, legs trembling so hard they threatened to close around his head. The pleasure was too much, too new, too overwhelming for your body.
Suddenly, Sir Jungkook pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your juices. His dark eyes looked up at you, breathing ragged.
“Should I continue, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with lust and devotion. “Tell me… do you want more?”
You could barely form words. Your body was shaking, pussy throbbing, dripping onto the mattress beneath you.
“Please don’t stop,” you whimpered desperately. “Keep licking me... please...”
The knight obeyed instantly. He buried his face back between your thighs and attacked your clit with relentless strokes of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot while he sucked hard on your swollen pearl.
The pleasure hit you like a storm.
Your entire body seized up. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you violently. Your thighs clamped around his head, hips bucking wildly against his mouth as you gushed on his tongue. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, vision blurring at the edges.
You nearly passed out from the sheer intensity of it. body twitching, chest heaving, soft cries still falling from your lips as the pleasure refused to let go.
Sir Jungkook stayed between your thighs through every tremor, drinking down every last drop of your release like a man who had finally found salvation.
When your body finally went limp, trembling and oversensitive, he gently kissed your inner thigh before pulling back, his handsome face flushed and glistening with your arousal.
You could barely speak, still catching your breath as you stared at the sight of your proud, disciplined knight with your release shining on his lips.
—
“The Princess requires her knight’s escort to the eastern tower for stargazing.”
The message was innocent enough on paper. But the court had begun to notice how often you summoned Sir Jeon Jungkook for these private “duties.” Some whispered that the Princess trusted no one else. Others envied the knight who had earned such unwavering favor from the realm’s greatest beauty.
They had no idea what really happened once the tower door was bolted.
In the eastern tower under the stars, you would push Sir Jungkook against the cold stone wall and demand his mouth on you again. He always hesitated at first, “Your Highness, we mustn’t…” but the moment you looked at him with those wide, needy eyes and whispered “Please, Jungkook… I ache for you,” his resolve crumbled.
He would drop to his knees in full armor, push your skirts up to your waist, and bury his face between your thighs. The sounds he made while devouring you were filthy and desperately loud. wet slurps and deep groans as he drank every drop of your arousal. You quickly learned to muffle your loud moans against your own arm or his shoulder, thighs shaking violently around his head as he brought you to shattering orgasm after orgasm.
He never asked for anything in return at first. But one night, after he had made you come so hard you saw stars, you dropped to your knees in front of him, hands trembling as you freed his thick, aching cock from his breeches.
You had never seen the knight fully bare, but you had tasted him.
You took him into your mouth with clumsy but eager hunger, sucking and licking until he was groaning your name like a prayer, his gloved hand gently cradling the back of your head. When he spilled down your throat, you swallowed every drop, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.
The tension between you only grew hotter, more forbidden.
You began creating excuses just to be close to him.
You “accidentally” wandered into dangerous parts of the forest during hunts. You “lost” your way in the palace corridors at night. You deliberately teased foreign dignitaries until they grew too bold, all so Sir Jungkook would have to step in, pull you protectively against his armored chest, and hold you there while scolding you with his low voice.
Each time, you nestled your head against his chest plate, breathing in his scent, feeling safe in a way you had never felt with anyone else.
One quiet afternoon in the royal rose gardens, while the other knights kept their distance. The summer blooms were at their peak, rows upon rows of crimson roses spilling over marble trellises in a riot of color and fragrance. Courtiers often compared them to you. You had heard the comparison so many times throughout your life that it had long since lost all meaning.
Your attention was elsewhere when Sir Jungkook paused beside a rose bush heavy with crimson blooms. Reaching out, he selected a single flower and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers before approaching.
“A gift?” you asked.
“If Your Highness would accept it.”
The answer surprised a smile from you.
He stepped forward and tucked the rose behind your ear. His gloved fingers lingered only for a second before withdrawing, but even that brief touch seemed to affect him more than he wished to admit.
When you looked up, his gaze was fixed upon the flower. “Beautiful things are dangerous,” he said quietly.
You laughed. “I believe roses are dangerous for everyone except gardeners.”
His expression didn’t change.
“I wasn’t speaking about the rose.”
Your heart fluttered so violently you had to look away. it was becoming impossible to deny how deeply you were falling for him.
The kisses grew sloppier, more desperate with every stolen moment.
In the abandoned library, your knight would press you against the bookshelves, helmet removed, and kiss you like he was drowning, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist as if afraid you might vanish. You kissed him back just as hungrily, tugging at his hair, moaning softly into his mouth while your hand palmed the hard bulge in his breeches.
Your hunger for him was insatiable. You ached for his presence constantly. The court noticed how you lit up when he entered a room, how you instinctively moved closer to him during gatherings. They saw devotion, they saw trust.
They never saw the way you both held each other’s eyes like lovers who knew their time was stolen.
The relationship was utterly forbidden. Your father would banish him, or worse, if he ever discovered the truth. But neither of you could stop. Something real was blossoming between you.
The knight admired your wild, rebellious spirit. You admired his quiet strength and unwavering honor. In the darkness, you were no longer just princess and knight. You were becoming each other’s secret salvation. And it was only a matter of time before the tension finally snapped.
—
The Coronation.
The kingdom was in full celebration. Banners of the finest gold flew from every tower. The greatest event in decades had arrived, your coronation as Queen.
Princes from across the realms had come in droves, each more eager than the last to win your hand and the throne beside you. They brought lavish gifts, performed in grand tournaments, and showered you with compliments. The entire court watched with bated breath, waiting for you to choose.
You sat upon the raised dais in a breathtaking gown of white, looking every bit the ethereal queen-to-be. But your eyes kept drifting to the tall, armored figure standing silently behind your throne, Sir Jeon Jungkook.
He had become even more composed in public, yet you could feel the storm raging beneath his helmet. Especially when you decided to play your cruel little game.
Prince Min of Veina leaned close during the feast, whispering sweet nothings about your beauty. You laughed brightly, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers linger, leaning in just enough for your neckline to offer him a generous view of your breasts.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Sir Jungkook’s gloved hand tighten around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.
Another prince, a golden haired lord from the eastern isles, offered you a rose during the garden promenade. You accepted it with a coy smile, twirling it between your fingers while glancing toward your knight.
Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned behind the helmet. You could feel his jealousy like a living thing, hot and barely contained.
That night, after the feasting and dancing, you summoned him to the eastern tower under the usual pretense.
The moment the door closed, he was on you.
The knight pinned you against the cold stone wall. The single rose you’d been idly twirling between your fingers, a gift from one of the many princes, fell forgotten to the floor.
Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned with something almost feral.
“You will be wed off soon?” he growled dangerously, breath hot against your ear.
You looked up at him, heart racing. Your long, wavy hair had finally been let down after the long day, cascading over your shoulders and hips like dark silk. The tight corset of your white coronation gown was already loosened, the fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.
“What do you think about Prince Min?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head. “I think he’s quite lovely. So charming. He even said he would worship me every night once we’re wed.”
Sir Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it crack. The jealousy that had been simmering all day threatening to explode.
“Doesn’t it drive you mad, Sir Jeon?” You leaned in closer, letting your breasts brush against his armored chest. “Knowing your princess, the one you’ve been secretly devouring every night, is wanted by so many powerful men? That they all dream of putting a ring on my finger and taking me to their beds?”
“It is exquisite torture, Your Highness,” he growled, eyes burning. “Watching them look at you like they have any right to you. Knowing I’m the only one who’s ever tasted you, the only one who’s ever made you scream.”
His raw honesty sent a sharp thrill through you. You bit your lip, loving the way jealousy sharpened his features, making his dark eyes appear even more intense. He was possessive and barely holding himself back. And you wanted to push him further.
You stepped away from the wall with a teasing smile, walking over to the tall, gilded mirror that stood near the fireplace. The white gown still clung to your body, hair cascading in long, wild waves down your back. You picked up a silver brush and began slowly running it through it, watching him in the reflection.
Sir Jungkook followed you like a shadow, stopping just behind you. His tall, powerful frame loomed in the mirror, twice your size, radiating heat and restrained fury.
“Does that bother you, my knight?” A teasing smile played on your lips. “Knowing that soon I might have to let another man—”
You didn’t get to finish. Sir Jungkook’s large hand closed around your wrist, stopping the brush mid stroke. He plucked it from your fingers and set it down with a deliberate clack. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling your back flush against his armored chest.
Your breath hitched. The playful boldness you’d been wielding all night vanished in an instant.
“Enough,” he growled low against your ear, “You’ve teased me enough tonight, Your Highness.”
His dark eyes burned into yours through the mirror. The intensity there made your knees weak. This wasn’t the restrained, obedient knight anymore. This was a man who had finally reached his limit.
He reached around you and slowly began unlacing the rest of your corset. The white gown loosened further, slipping down your shoulders. You watched in the mirror as he tugged it lower, exposing your full breasts to the cool air and the warm firelight. Your nipples were hard, flushed, and sensitive.
Sir Jungkook’s hand cupped one breast possessively, squeezing it as his thumb brushed over the stiff peak. You gasped, arching into his touch.
“Look at yourself,” he ordered quietly, voice rough. “Look how beautiful you are. How perfect. And yet you let them think they could ever have this.”
He pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you whimpered. His other hand slid down, gathering the fabric of your gown and pulling it up to your waist, fully exposing your bare cunt in the mirror.
Your face bloomed bright red as you instinctively tried to close your legs, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness at the sight of yourself so lewdly displayed, flushed and completely bare in the golden firelight.
But Sir Jungkook wouldn’t allow it. His large hand gripped your thigh firmly, spreading you open again as he pressed his body harder against your back.
“Don’t hide,” His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, intense and commanding. “Look how filthy and wet you are for me.”
You shivered, unable to tear your eyes away from the reflection. The contrast was obscene, your ethereal white gown bunched around your waist, breasts exposed and heaving, legs spread wide while his armored body loomed behind you like a dark, possessive shadow.
Sir Jungkook’s hand returned between your thighs. Two thick fingers slid through your slick folds, parting them slowly so you could see everything in the mirror. You whimpered at the sight, embarrassed yet unbearably aroused.
“So beautiful,” he breathed as he circled your swollen clit with his fingertip. “This is what belongs to me. Not to any prince. Not to anyone else.”
He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began ravishing you with slow, deliberate strokes that made wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet tower.
You tried to close your legs again, overwhelmed, but he held them open with ease, his grip firm and unyielding.
“Watch,” he ordered softly, voice dark with lust. “Watch how easily I can make my princess fall apart.”
Your eyes stayed glued to the mirror as his fingers plunged in and out of your soaked cunt, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your cheeks were flushed deep crimson, lips parted in shameless moans, breasts bouncing slightly with every thrust of his hand.
The pleasure built fast and merciless. Your legs started shaking, thighs trembling violently as you fought to stay upright.
Sir Jungkook’s fingers curled deeper, stroking that perfect spot inside you while his thumb pressed firm circles on your swollen clit.
You came hard with a broken cry, arousal gushing down his wrist and dripping onto the stone floor beneath you. Your head fell back against his armored shoulder, body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through right after.
The knight dragged his arousal coated fingers from your pulsing heat and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while his dark eyes stayed locked on yours in the mirror. The obscene sight made you whimper, legs pressing together instinctively. This time, he allowed it.
You pulled away from him shyly, legs unsteady as you walked toward the wide couch near the fireplace. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover your bare breasts, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment.
Sir Jungkook approached you ever so slowly. His heart was pounding. you could see it in the rise and fall of his broad chest. The way your flushed cheeks and shy posture made you look so adorable only made his desire burn hotter.
He stopped in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. Without a word, he gently uncrossed your arms, exposing your breasts again. You tried to cover them once more, but he caught your wrists softly.
“You’re too beautiful to hide, my love.” he murmured, voice low.
He leaned down and took one sensitive nipple into his hot mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. You gasped sharply, hands flying to his shoulders as overwhelming sensitivity shot through you.
“Jungkook... it’s too much...” you whimpered, lightly pushing at his shoulders, cheeks burning with shyness.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust and affection. “You’re so sensitive here,” he whispered, almost in awe. He flicked his tongue over your nipple again, watching your reaction closely. “So angelic when you tremble like this.”
He sucked harder, alternating between your breasts, licking and biting softly until you were a whimpering mess, pushing at him weakly while your body arched into his mouth.
You grew frustrated at the unfairness, nearly naked while he was still fully armored. With a small, determined huff, you pushed him back slightly and began tugging at the straps of his armor.
“It is not fair,” you muttered, cheeks still flushed. “You get to see all of me, but I still haven’t seen you.”
The knight let you undress him, helping you remove piece after piece until he stood completely bare before you for the first time.
Your breath caught.
He was magnificent. Broad shoulders, powerfully sculpted chest marked with old scars, some long and faded, others newer. A few dark tattoos adorned his left pectoral and ribs. His abdomen was ridged with muscle, leading down to narrow hips. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick and already hard.
You stepped closer, running your hands over his bare chest, tracing every scar with reverent fingers, exploring the strong lines of his back, more scars mapping his battles. He stood perfectly still, letting you admire him, though his breathing had grown heavier.
“You are… so manly, my knight,” you breathed, barely coherent, as your hands returned to his chest, sliding down the hard ridges of his abdomen. “So big… so perfect.”
The room had grown hotter, heavier. The air between you felt charged with months of suppressed longing. Your breaths mingled as you stared into each other’s eyes... yours wide with awe and desire, his dark with barely restrained hunger.
Sir Jungkook’s control finally snapped. He lifted you and laid you down on the wide couch near the fireplace, pinning your exploring hands above your head with one large hand, holding them there firmly before his body hovered over yours, powerful and imposing, thick cock resting heavy against your inner thigh.
“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low and rough.
You did, heart hammering.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.
You squirmed beneath him, aching and desperate. “Take me,” you pleaded, trembling. “Please, Jungkook… give it to me. I need you inside me.”
Sir Jungkook let out a low groan at your words. He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. He was big, almost intimidatingly so. You felt the stretch even before he pushed in.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Your Highness,” he whispered, voice strained with worry and barely contained lust. His dark eyes searched yours, torn between desire and restraint. “You’re so tight...”
You trembled beneath him, legs parted wide around his hips. “Please,” you begged softly, cupping his face. “Don’t hold back. I need you. All of you.”
The knight exhaled shakily and began to push inside.
The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply as the thick head of his cock breached you, slowly forcing your walls open. Inch by thick inch, he sank deeper, filling you in a way you had never experienced before. It burned sweetly, bordering on too much, making your nails dig into his shoulders.
“Ah... Jungkook…” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming fullness.
He paused halfway, breathing hard, jaw clenched tight. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, rough. “I’ll stop. I swear it.”
But you shook your head, wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I need you deeper… please.”
With a low groan, he pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. The fullness was devastating. You felt so stretched, so completely claimed, that for a moment you could barely breathe.
Sir Jungkook stayed still, letting you adjust, pressing soft kisses to your tear stained cheeks.
“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice filled with awe and lust. “Such a good girl for me.”
When the burn finally melted into aching pleasure, you rolled your hips experimentally.
“Move,” you whispered. “Please… ruin me.”
That was all it took.
Sir Jungkook’s control snapped completely. He pulled back and thrust into you hard, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Jealousy and months of pent up desire fueled every powerful stroke. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock slamming into your soaked cunt filled the tower, mixing with your loud, broken moans.
He was a knight sworn to protect the crown, now utterly ruining the very sovereign he had pledged his life to shield.
“Mine,” Sir Jungkook growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a dark mark. “Not theirs. Never theirs.”
He ravished you relentlessly, claiming you, marking you. His mouth was everywhere: sucking bruises into your breasts, biting your collarbone, licking the tears from your cheeks. He pinned your wrists above your head again, hips snapping against yours with raw need.
You came hard the first time, screaming his name as your walls clenched violently around his thick length. But he didn’t stop. He took you through it, then flipped you onto your hands and knees, on the wide couch.
First, he worshipped.
The knight dropped to his knees behind you, his large hands spreading your cheeks reverently. He leaned in and pressed slow, open mouthed kisses along the curve of your royal backside, lingering presses of his lips that made your breath hitch. He kissed lower, then lower still, until his tongue dragged hot and wet over your soaked folds from behind.
“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot and heavy. “So divine. And yet I am going to ruin every sacred inch of you.”
Then the worship turned into ruin.
He rose, gripping your hips with white knuckled force, and thrust into you from behind in one deep, devastating stroke. You cried out sharply at the stretch, the thick length of his cock forcing your walls open, filling you so completely it stole your breath.
You sobbed in pleasure, fingers clawing at the cushions as he drove into you relentlessly. The power he exerted over you was intoxicating. this hardened warrior, dominating you utterly while still worshipping every tremble of your body.
“You belong to me,” he rasped, ruining you with slow, devastating strokes now. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” you whimpered, voice breaking. “Only yours, Jungkook... ahh!”
By the third round, you were a sobbing, whimpering mess, tears streaming down your face from overwhelming pleasure, body covered in his marks, cunt swollen and dripping with your combined release.
He took you in every way he could: against the wall, bent over the couch, riding him as he sat on the edge of the seat, then finally on your back again with your legs over his shoulders as he drove impossibly deep.
All night long, the tower echoed with your moans, his deep groans, the obscene wet sounds of your bodies joining. He claimed you utterly and completely devoted.
When he finally came for the last time, buried deep inside you, he held you tight, spilling pulse after pulse of hot seed into your womb, filling you until you felt impossibly full, claimed from the inside out.
Sir Jeon Jungkook pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every word.
“You command the entire kingdom, my lady,” he whispered reverently, “but here in this hidden place… you are mine to ruin.”
You could only tremble in his arms, utterly spent, legs wrapped around his waist, heart pounding wildly as the fire crackled beside you.
The weight of what you had just done, and what it meant for both of you settled uncomfortably in the air. But in that moment, wrapped in his powerful arms, marked and filled by your knight, nothing else in the kingdom mattered.
The days that followed were a delicate illusion of peace.
It was late morning when you found yourself in the secluded royal bathing pool fed by a gentle river, surrounded by floating lily pads and white blossoms that drifted lazily on the current. The water was warm, scented with rose and lavender oils poured in by your maids. Sunlight filtered through the overhanging willow branches, casting soft, dappled light across the surface.
You leaned back against the smooth stone edge, your long dark hair floating around you like ink in water. Your body still carried the secret marks of the previous night, faint bruises on your hips, love bites hidden beneath the waterline, and a persistent, delicious ache between your thighs that reminded you with every shift who had claimed you so thoroughly.
Your maids, Elara, Verra, and old, wise Selyse moved around you carefully. They had raised you since you were a babe, more mothers than servants. They knew you better than anyone.
Elara poured another stream of warm water over your shoulders, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush that still lingered on your cheeks.
“You are glowing again this morning, my lady,” she said lightly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “One might think the moon itself had kissed your skin.”
Verra, younger and bolder, laughed softly as she massaged oil into your scalp. “Or perhaps a certain tall, dark eyed knight has been keeping you… well attended.”
You felt your face heat, but you couldn’t stop the small, secret smile that curved your lips.
Selyse, the eldest, clicked her tongue but her eyes were soft with affection. “Hush, you two. Our princess has always been radiant. Though…” she tilted her head, studying you, “there is a new light in her eyes these days. And a certain weariness in her step that speaks of long nights.”
You bit your lip, sinking a little lower into the water as lily pads brushed against your skin.
“It is nothing,” you murmured, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.
“Nothing?” Vera teased, wading closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially.
“We have seen you grow from a wild little girl into this breathtaking woman. We know your heart. And we know it does not belong to any of those puffed up princes parading through the halls.”
You reached out, squeezing Elara’s hand, then Verra’s, your voice dropping to a shy, trembling whisper.
“It is true,” you confessed, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun. “I have given myself to Sir Jeon. Body and heart. He is the only man I have ever wanted. The only one who has ever touched me.”
For a heartbeat, silence fell over the bathing pool. Then came the gasps.
Elara’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. Verra let out a delighted little squeak, nearly dropping the oil vial. Even old Selyse, usually so composed, looked momentarily stunned before her face broke into a warm, knowing smile.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” Elara breathed, scandalized, thrilled. “You wicked little thing! With your own knight? Right under the King’s nose?”
Verra giggled uncontrollably, splashing water playfully in your direction. “And here we thought you were simply fond of him! All those late night ‘stargazing’ trips… you minx! Was he gentle? Was he… big?”
“Verra!” Selyse scolded, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She turned to you with motherly affection. “Though I must admit, we have suspected for some time. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching… that man is utterly gone for you, my lady.”
You buried your face in your hands, mortified but unable to stop the shy, giddy smile spreading across your lips. Your gaze drifted across the river to where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard a respectful distance away, half hidden among the willow trees.
Even from here, you could feel the weight of his stare. He stood tall and imposing in his armor, but his dark eyes were fixed on you with a quiet, burning intensity that always made your stomach flutter.
You bit your lip, still flushed from both the warm water and the memory of his mouth, his hands, his body claiming you so thoroughly the night before.
“He is… everything,” you whispered dreamily, more to yourself than the maids. “Strong. Honorable. And when we are alone… he worships me like I am his entire world.”
Verra let out another delighted laugh. “As he should! Our princess deserves nothing less. Though if the King ever finds out…”
Selyse gently squeezed your shoulder, her voice softening with both love and concern.
“Then we will protect your secret as fiercely as we have protected you all these years,” she said. “You deserve to love who you love, my dear. Crown or no crown.”
You looked back at Sir Jungkook again. He hadn’t moved from his post among the willow trees, tall and steadfast in his armor, but your heart ached with a sharp mix of fear and wonder.
If The King ever discovered the truth, he would not spare your knight. Sir Jungkook would be banished, or worse. And you… you would be married off immediately to seal the wound.
The thought disturbed you deeply.
You turned back to the water, forcing a smile for your maids, but the warmth of the bath could no longer chase away the chill settling in your chest.
—
The rumors had begun to spread like fire through the palace corridors.
A lesser knight claimed he had seen “suspicious movement” near the eastern tower. One of the visiting princes mentioned, with a sly smile, that the Princess seemed unusually attached to her personal guard. Nothing concrete, nor proven. But the whispers were growing louder.
Your maids noticed your distraction immediately. During your morning dressing, Verra fastened the laces of your gown with unusually tight pulls, her voice urgent.
“My lady… you must be more careful,” she whispered. “Some of the king’s men have been asking questions about Sir Jeon. They say he spends too many nights away from the barracks. And one of Prince Min’s retainers swears he saw a tall figure slipping into your wing after midnight.”
Elara’s hands paused on your hair. “The knight is being cautious now. He avoids being seen with you as much. But you… you still look at him like he hung the moon. It is only a matter of time before the King hears something he cannot ignore.”
Selyse placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her eyes full of love and worry. “You are playing with fire, sweet girl. And fire does not care how much you love it.”
Your heart clenched with fear. You hadn’t seen your knight alone in a week. He had been deliberately distant, protecting you both by keeping his distance. The absence gnawed at you like hunger.
That night, you sent for him under the pretense of needing extra security for a private walk in the inner courtyard.
The moment the hidden door to your chambers closed behind him, you were on him.
You pushed Sir Jungkook against the wall, frustration and fear pouring out of you in a desperate kiss. Your hands fisted in his tunic, tugging him closer.
“Where have you been?” you demanded between kisses, voice shaking. “I was scared. I thought something had happened to you. I thought my father had already—”
“I’m here,” he whispered against your lips, rough with emotion. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you. “I’m right here, my love.”
But then he pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours. His dark eyes were filled with pain.
“I cannot stay,” he said quietly. The words hit you like a blow. “Your father has ordered me to lead a company to the western borders. There have been reports of raiders. He says it is to prove my devotion to protecting the realm… and you. He also made it clear I can no longer linger so closely around you. The rumors are growing too loud.”
You stared at him, heart shattering.
“No,” you whispered, then louder, “No. You cannot leave me. Not now. Not after everything.”
Tears stung your eyes as the hurt poured out.
“After our first night, you pulled away. You kept your distance like I was poison. And now you’re leaving entirely? What if something happens to you out there? What if I lose you forever? I can’t take it, Jungkook. I won’t survive it.”
Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the straps of his armor with desperate, angry fingers.
“I don’t care about the king. I don’t care about the borders. I only care about you.”
Piece by piece, you stripped him. The armor fell to the floor with heavy clangs until he stood completely bare before you, broad chest, scarred skin, powerful frame looking every bit of the warrior he was. You shoved him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.
Sir Jungkook’s hands moved instinctively to the laces of your corset, trying to free you fully, but you slapped his hand away, tears already glistening in your eyes.
But the knight was patient. He sat up slowly, your legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, and gently cupped your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks with heartbreaking tenderness.
“My love,” he whispered, voice soothing, “Let me worship you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”
He leaned in and captured one of your sensitive breasts in his mouth, sucking slowly. His tongue swirled around your stiff nipple, drawing a shaky moan from you. He moved to the other, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and licking until your back arched and fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, this time from overwhelming sensation and emotion.
Holding you close, then gently but firmly, Sir Jungkook leaned back, gripping your hips and guiding you upward. In one rapid motion, he pulled you over his face, settling you directly onto his waiting mouth. Your soaked folds pressed flush against his lips and tongue, your thighs framing his head as he looked up at you with pure hunger.
“Use me,” he growled against your dripping folds, the vibration sending sparks through your core. “Pleasure yourself on my tongue love. I want to drown in you.”
You hesitated for half a second, still shy and nervous, cheeks burning hot even as your body screamed for more. But the frantic ache between your legs won out. You lowered yourself more fully, your slick cunt sliding over his mouth, his nose buried against your clit. He groaned loudly, the sound muffled and obscene as he immediately speared his tongue deep inside you, licking and sucking at your juices like a man starved.
You started moving almost desperately, grinding down with frantic little rocks of your hips. Shyness still flickered in your chest, making you whimper and bite your lip, but the pleasure overrode everything. Your hands braced on the headboard as wet, filthy sounds filled the room, the slick slide of your cunt over his tongue, his eager slurping and moaning, the way he sucked your swollen clit between his lips and flicked it mercilessly.
“Oh gods...” you gasped. Your thighs trembled around his head as you grew bolder, grinding harder, smearing your arousal all over his face. He gripped your cheeks, spreading them, holding you down so you could use him exactly how you needed. His tongue ravished in and out of your dripping hole, then flattened to lap broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, devouring every drop.
But it wasn’t enough.
You lifted off his face with a wet pop, strings of your arousal connecting you to his glistening mouth. His eyes were dark, lips swollen and shiny with your juices. Before he could speak, you slid down his body impatiently.
You straddled his hips, wrapped your hand around his thick, throbbing cock, and sank down onto him in one frantic motion.
The stretch made you cry out, but you didn’t stop. You rode him hard, bouncing on his length with frantic, emotional need, your breasts bouncing heavily with every harsh drop of your hips.
“Don’t leave me,” you sobbed, riding him faster, tears falling onto his chest. “Please, Jungkook… I can’t lose you. Not after this. Not after you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”
He thrust up to meet you, matching your desperate rhythm, his strong hands gripping your hips to guide you deeper.
“I don’t want to go,” he rasped, voice breaking with the same pain. “But I must. Your father commands it. I have to prove my loyalty… so I can stay by your side.”
You leaned down, kissing him messily through your tears, riding him like you could keep him here forever if you just moved fast enough.
“Then stay inside me,” you begged, voice cracking. “Fill me up. So deep that a part of you stays with me even when you’re gone. I want to carry you with me when they try to take you away.”
Sir Jungkook groaned deeply. His hands tightened on your hips as he suddenly flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath his powerful body.
He made love to you then, with deep, devastating strokes that reached the very core of you. His mouth never left your skin, sucking marks into your neck, whispering promises between every thrust.
“You are mine,” he breathed against your lips, hips rolling deeply. “I will come back to you. I will fill you again and again until you swell with our future.”
You wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging desperately as another orgasm built inside you. When it finally crashed over you, you sobbed his name, walls pulsing tightly around his thick cock.
Sir Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a low, guttural groan. He came hard, flooding your womb with thick, pulsing ropes of his seed, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your souls together.
Even after, he stayed buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to your damp forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.
“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered, small and broken. “I love you too much.”
Sir Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his arms never loosening. “I know, my love,” he murmured. “And that is why I must return to you. No matter what.”
The weeks following Sir Jungkook’s departure had stretched into an endless gray fog.
You moved through your royal duties like a ghost wearing a crown. You sat through council meetings with a straight spine and a hollow smile, listening to nobles bicker about alliances, trade routes while your mind wandered back to your knight’s strong arms. Every night since, your bed felt too large, too cold. You would press your face into the pillow he had once used and fight the ache in your chest.
You missed him with a desperation that bordered on madness.
This morning was no different. You had barely kept your breakfast down before the maids helped you into a heavy velvet gown the color of deep wine for yet another assembly with potential suitors. The princes and lords from neighboring kingdoms were growing impatient. Your coronation was only a month away, and the pressure to choose a consort was mounting like a noose around your throat.
By midday, the nausea returned with a vengeance. You barely made it through the formal greetings before excusing yourself to the private solar, hand pressed to your mouth.
Elara followed quickly with a basin. You retched violently into it, eyes watering.
“Your Highness…” she whispered, rubbing gentle circles on your back.
“I’m fine,” you rasped, waving her away. “Just… something I ate.”
But it wasn’t.
Later that evening, after the day’s obligations were finally over, Vera and Selyse insisted on the usual massage to ease the tension in your shoulders. They helped you out of your gown until you lay on the wide cushioned table in nothing but a thin silk shift.
The moment Selyse’s skilled hands moved over your breasts, the older maid froze.
Verra, who was working on your legs, also stilled.
“…Your Highness,” Selyse said carefully, “Your breasts… they are fuller. Tender, yes?”
Your breath hitched. You had noticed it days ago but had tried to ignore the swelling, the sensitivity. The way even the softest fabric sometimes made you wince.
Verra’s hands gently pressed against your lower belly, not quite a touch, more an assessment. “And the sickness every morning… the fatigue… the way you’ve been crying in your chambers…”
Your eyes filled with tears. You turned your face into your folded arms, shoulders shaking.
Selyse knelt beside the table, taking your hand gently. “My lady… are you with a child?”
You didn’t answer at first. Then a broken sob escaped you.
“I think so,” you whispered. “I… I don’t know for certain, but the timing…” Your voice cracked. “It would be his. Sir Jungkook’s.”
Both maids exchanged a heavy glance. This changed everything.
Verra spoke softly, “My lady... with your coronation approaching. The lords are already circling like vultures, pushing their sons at you. If this comes out before you choose a prince…”
“I know,” you said, voice muffled. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “I know what it means. But I can’t… I can’t just marry one of them. Not when I’m carrying the child of the only man I’ve ever loved.”
You sat up slowly, clutching the silk shift to your chest, arms wrapped protectively around your still flat stomach.
“My dear knight...” you sniffled. “He is out there fighting gods-know-what, and I’m here pretending to be the perfect princess while my body betrays our secret.”
Selyse brushed a strand of hair from your face with motherly tenderness. “We can hide it a little longer, Highness. Looser gowns. Ginger tea for the sickness. But you must decide soon what path you will take. The child… it will not stay hidden forever.”
You nodded, but your heart was breaking all over again. The thought of choosing one of those cold, ambitious princes while carrying Sir Jungkook’s child made you feel ill all over again.
Selyse pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice firm with loyalty. “We pray he returns soon, my lady. And until then, we will guard you and this little one with our lives.”
—
The weeks blurred into months as winter settled over the kingdom like a heavy white shroud. Snow blanketed the towers and gardens, turning the world soft and silent, yet inside your chest, the storm only grew louder.
Sir Jeon Jungkook had not returned.
Your belly had swelled noticeably now, a gentle but undeniable curve that marked the life growing within you. With the help of Elara, Verra, and Selyse, you hid it beneath layers of loose, flowing gowns and heavy cloaks lined with fur.
The rich fabrics concealed the truth for now, but you could no longer ignore the way your body changed, the tender fullness of your breasts, the occasional flutter of movement beneath your skin, and the constant, bone deep exhaustion.
You had begun excusing yourself from the suitors’ assemblies more frequently, claiming headaches or matters of state. But the King, grew increasingly impatient.
In the grand throne room one frost laced afternoon, he fixed you with a stern gaze as snow fell outside the tall windows. “You cannot delay any longer, daughter,” he spoke, heavy with royal command. “Prince Min of Viena is a strong candidate. The coronation is weeks away. You must choose a consort soon. The realm needs stability.”
You bowed your head, hands clasped tightly over your hidden belly beneath the voluminous velvet. “Yes, Father,” you murmured, the lie tasting like ash. Inside, your heart screamed for the only man you wanted.
Every few days, with your maids’ help, you sent letters. Verra would sneak them to a trusted rider, sealed with your private wax. You poured your soul onto the parchment; how much you missed him, the way your body was changing, the secret you carried, your love that only deepened with every passing day. Yet no responses ever came. The silence gnawed at you, feeding nightmares of him lying wounded on some distant battlefield or worse.
The worry became unbearable.
One bitter winter morning, wrapped in a thick hooded cloak that concealed your swollen middle, you slipped away from the castle with only Elara and Selyse accompanying you. The three of you rode through the snow dusted forest to a modest stone cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom, the home where Sir Jungkook had grown up.
When the door opened, an older woman with kind eyes and streaks of silver in her dark hair stood before you. Sir Jungkook’s mother. She froze at the sight of the princess on her doorstep, her hand flying to her chest.
“Your Highness…?” she whispered, stunned. “Surely I do not deserve to be blessed with your presence at my humble door. Please, come inside before the cold takes you.”
She ushered you, Elara, and Selyse quickly into the warm cottage, the scent of pinewood and baking bread wrapping around you like an embrace. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as she helped you remove your snow dusted cloak. Only when you were seated by the fire did her gaze drop to the unmistakable swell of your belly beneath the loose gown.
You took a steadying breath, your hands resting protectively over your rounded stomach.
“I carry his child,” you said softly, trembling with emotion. “Your son’s. Sir Jungkook’s. He does not know yet… he has not returned, and I… I needed to feel close to him somehow.”
Jungkook’s mother, Maera, stood completely still for a long moment, her eyes wide with shock. Then her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.
“Oh… gods above,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “A grandchild…? From my Jungkook?” Fresh tears flowed freely as she dropped to her knees in front of you, taking your hands in hers with deep reverence. “My lady… my princess. You honor me beyond words. You honor my son. To think that you, a royal daughter, would carry his child… I am stunned. Truly stunned. And so deeply moved.”
She pressed her forehead to your knuckles, weeping quietly with pure joy and emotion. When she lifted her head again, her eyes shone with fierce affection.
“You are already family to me,” she whispered. “Come here, sweet child.” She rose and pulled you into a warm embrace, cradling you gently as if you were made of glass. “You must be so frightened, carrying this secret alone while he is away. But you are not alone anymore. Not while I draw breath.”
You felt safe in her arms, the weight on your heart easing just a little as winter wind howled softly outside the cottage walls.
After composing herself, Maera wiped her tears and fetched a small wooden chest from a shelf. She sat beside you, opening it with trembling hands.
“Look,” she said tenderly, pulling out several treasured items. She showed you a faded sketch of a chubby baby with dark, serious eyes —Sir Jungkook as an infant. Another portrait showed him as a sturdy little boy of four, holding a wooden sword with determination. There was even a lock of his soft baby hair tied with a ribbon.
“He was always so intense, even as a babe,” she said with a watery laugh. “Strong and quiet… but when he smiled, the whole world lit up. Just like I imagine your little one will.”
You traced the portraits with gentle fingers, tears slipping down your own cheeks. Seeing these glimpses of him as a child made your love for the knight swell even deeper. You could so clearly picture your baby with his eyes, his strength, his rare smile. The thought made your heart ache with both joy and longing.
Maera kept one hand over yours, cherishing you openly. “Thank you for coming to me,” she murmured. “For trusting me with this precious news. We will wait for him together, my daughter. And when he returns, he will be the happiest man alive.”
The two of you sat by the fire for a long while — his mother and the mother of his child, talking softly as snow continued to fall outside, bound by love for the same man.
The days after your visit to Maera’s cottage only deepened the ache in your soul. Winter grew harsher, and so did your impatience. Every morning you woke with your hands on your swelling belly, feeling the strong kicks of his child, and the longing became unbearable.
One evening in the royal chambers, you fell to your knees before the King, tears streaming down your face. “Father, please… I beg you. Bring Sir Jungkook back. I need him. I cannot do this without him.”
The King frowned, confused by your desperation. “Daughter, he is leading my forces on the border. The realm needs him there. Why this sudden insistence on one knight?”
You could not tell him the truth. “I just… need him,” you whispered brokenly. “Please.”
He did not relent. The pressure to choose a suitor only intensified.
And then the sickness took hold.
Your body ached constantly. deep soreness in your back, hips, and breasts that made every movement painful. The baby’s kicks, once a comfort, now left you breathless. You grew feverish and weak.
Elara, Verra, and Selyse rarely left your side, forcing herbal teas and bitter medicines down your throat while piling warm blankets over you. For nearly a week you were bedridden, barely able to leave your chambers, hidden away from the court under the excuse of a winter chill.
One cold, silent night, as snow tapped gently against the window panes, you drifted in and out of a fevered haze. The herbs made the world soft and blurry around the edges.
You thought it was a dream when the heavy door to your chambers opened with a quiet creak and a tall, familiar figure stepped inside, shedding his snow dusted cloak. The firelight caught on his sharp jawline and those intense dark eyes.
Strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you carefully as he climbed into your grand bed. A warm, calloused hand gently cradled your swollen belly. You felt the press of soft, reverent lips against the curve of your stomach.
“My love…” The knight’s deep voice whispered against your skin, rough with emotion. “I’m here. I finally came back to you.”
“Jungkook…?” you murmured drowsily, eyelids heavy, unsure if this was real or another cruel dream born of longing and medicine.
“It’s me,” he breathed, pulling your body flush against his solid chest. He was real. warm, solid, smelling of snow, leather, and the faint scent of campfires. “I’ve been aching for you every single day. Your touch, your voice… it kept me alive out there.”
His large hand stroked slow, soothing circles over your rounded belly, feeling the baby shift and kick beneath his palm. He lowered his head, pressing his lips directly to the taut skin.
You let out a tired, broken sound. “You left me… You promised you’d come back sooner. Look at me… I’m so sore, so heavy with your child, and you weren’t here…”
Sir Jungkook chuckled softly, the sound warm against your skin, even as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know, my princess. I deserve your scolding. I’m deeply sorry.” He kissed your belly again and again, soft open mouthed presses wherever he could reach. Then he trailed his lips higher, attaching his mouth gently to the swollen, aching curve of your breasts, sucking lightly and kissing away the soreness with such care that you whimpered in relief.
His hands never stopped moving, massaging the deep ache in your lower back, cupping and gently holding your heavy breasts to ease their weight, stroking your hips and thighs. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly as if afraid you might vanish.
“You are unreal, my love.” he murmured, voice hoarse with awe as he looked at you. “Your glow… it’s deeper now. The way pregnancy has changed you… you’re beyond anything I could have imagined. You shine like starlight. Carrying our child has only made you more radiant, more mine.”
You clung to him weakly, drowsy but desperate for his touch. “The baby… it kicks so much. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl… but it feels like you. Strong and stubborn.”
Jungkook smiled against your temple, one hand still resting warmly over your belly. “This child is the product of our love. A piece of both of us. I already love them more than life.” He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring months of aching into it. “Every battle, every cold night, I thought only of coming home to you like this… holding you, feeling our baby move, worshipping the body that’s creating our future.”
He continued kissing every place that ached... the sides of your breasts, the curve of your belly, the inside of your wrist, his mouth soft and devoted. You melted into him, the pain easing under his gentle care as he held you close.
“Stay…” you whispered tiredly, already slipping back into sleep.
“I’m here right now,” he promised, lips brushing your ear. “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you both.”
When morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, you woke slowly, body still aching but strangely comforted.
The bed beside you was cold. No warmth lingered. No cloak on the chair. No scent of him on the pillows. Only the faint memory of strong hands, whispered words to your belly, and soft kisses remained.
You touched your swollen stomach, feeling another firm kick, and tears filled your eyes.
Was it a dream? A fevered hallucination woven from medicine, longing, and love? Or had Sir Jungkook truly returned to you in the dead of night… only to disappear again before dawn?
The herbs and medicines your maids prepared worked their magic. The fever finally broke, the deep soreness in your body eased into a manageable ache, and the constant nausea faded. Though you were still tired, your strength slowly returned. Your belly continued to grow rounder and heavier, the baby’s kicks becoming more insistent and lively.
One quiet winter evening, when the moon hung full over the snow covered palace, your maids turned your chambers into a secret sanctuary.
Accompanied by Sir Jungkook’s mother, they had worked together in absolute secrecy. No one outside your trusted circle knew. They had decorated the large private solar adjacent to your bedroom with soft candlelight, evergreen boughs, and winter white roses. Warm furs and silk pillows were arranged in a luxurious nest near the hearth. Incense of myrrh filled the air, and a small table held gifts wrapped in fine cloth.
They helped you into a loose, flowing gown of the softest ivory silk that draped beautifully over your swollen belly, leaving your shoulders bare. When you stepped into the room, all four women bowed their heads in reverence.
Selyse took your hand and guided you to the center of the soft pillows. “Tonight we celebrate you, my lady. And the precious life you carry. No one else will know of this blessing. It is ours alone.”
They treated you with deep adoration, as though you were sacred.
Elara gently massaged your feet with warm scented oil while Maera brushed your hair until it shone. Verra offered you sweet honeyed fruits and warm spiced milk, foods meant to nourish both you and the baby. Selyse laid her hands lightly on your rounded belly and spoke soft blessings for a safe birth and a strong child.
Selyse, ever wise, placed a small crown of dried herbs and winter berries on your head. “You are the vessel of love and life,” she murmured. “Even in these uncertain times, you bloom. We honor you as our princess… and as the mother of Sir Jungkook’s heir.”
You felt tears prick your eyes as they presented their secret gifts: tiny embroidered blankets, a soft knitted cap in deep green, a small silver pendant shaped like a blooming rose, a symbol of motherhood.
Vera leaned her cheek against your belly for a moment, grinning when the baby kicked in response. “He or she is strong already. Just like their father.”
You placed both hands over your swollen stomach, feeling another firm flutter. The warmth of their love and the secret celebration soothed the constant ache of missing your knight.
“Thank you,” you whispered, “All of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Elara kissed your temple. “We will keep you and this little one safe until Sir Jungkook returns. And he will return.”
The warmth of the secret celebration lingered on your skin as you returned to your chambers that night. The maids had just helped you out of the ivory silk gown when a royal messenger knocked urgently.
“The King demands your presence immediately, Your Highness. In his private study.”
You had no time to prepare. Still glowing from the love and blessings of your maids, you wrapped yourself in a heavy velvet robe that concealed your very swollen belly and followed the messenger.
The moment you entered the study, the atmosphere turned icy. Your father stood behind his desk, several of your letters spread before him.
“Daughter,” he spoke, controlled. “I have given you time to come to me yourself. I know you have been sending letters to the front lines. To Sir Jungkook, specifically.” He turned to face you, his expression stern but not yet furious. “I know of your… admiration for him. Speak truthfully now. What is this attachment?”
Your throat tightened. This was the moment. With your belly heavy with his child and your heart aching, you could no longer hide everything.
“Father…” you began, voice trembling as you stepped closer. “It is more than admiration. I love him. Sir Jungkook is the only man I want.” Your hands instinctively moved to cradle your stomach. “And I… I am carrying his child.”
Silence crashed over the room.
The King’s eyes widened, then narrowed sharply as his gaze dropped to the unmistakable swell beneath your gown. His face darkened with shock, then rage.
“You what?” he hissed. “A knight’s bastard? While I have been parading princes before you? While the entire realm waits for you to secure the throne with a proper alliance?”
“Father, please,” you begged, tears filling your eyes. “It is his. Our love is real. If you would only let him return, we could—”
The King’s face twisted with fury. “You dare speak such filth to me? A royal princess swollen with a common knight’s bastard?”
You rebelled, voice shaking but defiant. “It is not filth. It is love. I will not marry Prince Min. I will not let you use me as a pawn for alliances while I carry the man I love’s child.”
“Enough!” The King slammed his fist on the table, making you flinch. “I have been patient with your childish infatuation, but this is treason against your bloodline. You will do as you are told! Your fate is sealed. You will marry Prince Min before the month ends.”
Later that same night, before your maids could even calm you, you found your most trusted rider in the stables. With tears streaming down your face and snow falling around you, you whispered your final message: “Tell him… tell Sir Jungkook that I will wait for him. No matter how long it takes. My heart is his alone. I will wait.”
The rider bowed and galloped into the night. No response ever came.
The next weeks were a nightmare.
Prince Min visited often, his eyes raking over your body with open lust and infatuation. He complimented your “ethereal glow”, clearly aroused by your pregnant form, but his arrogance disgusted you. He spoke openly of claiming the throne through you, of bedding you the moment you were his. You hated him with every fiber of your being.
You fought your father harder than ever, refusing to attend meetings with Prince Min, screaming that you would rather die than marry him. But the King had reached his limit.
One brutal afternoon, he summoned you again and placed a bloodied cloak and a forged letter before you.
“Sir Jeon Jungkook is dead,” he said flatly. “He fell in battle two weeks ago. This is proof.”
The world shattered.
You collapsed to the floor, a guttural sob tearing from your throat. The baby inside you kicked as if sensing your pain. From that moment, you broke completely.
You refused to eat. You barely slept. You stopped speaking, even to Elara, Verra, and Selyse who begged you through tears to think of the child. You lay in bed for days, staring at nothing, your once radiant glow fading into pale exhaustion. Your maids feared for both your life and the baby’s.
Despite how numb you had become, when your maids gently suggested taking you to Maera’s quiet home on the edge of the forest, you agreed without protest. You were taken there in secret under the cover of night.
Maera, a strong but grieving woman with the same dark eyes as her son, took you in without question. She cared for you with quiet hands and even quieter words. You didn’t speak much to her either, but you accepted her care wholeheartedly. After all, she was mourning the loss of her son, and you were mourning the loss of your lover and the father of your child.
The King, despite his fury, still sent guards to watch over you from a distance. You were still royalty, still carrying what he believed might be his grandchild. But you could only think of the protection you once had... the strongest, safest pair of arms that had ever wrapped around you.
You mourned deeply. But you couldn’t be completely selfish with a baby on the way, restless and eager to come into the world.
The labor came on a stormy night.
The pains started suddenly and violently. Maera and your maids worked frantically around you as you screamed and cried, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. The King himself had ridden out in secret when he heard you had gone into labor, standing outside the cottage with a face pale with rare fear.
He didn’t know how to comfort you. He only knew one thing, his daughter was calling for her knight in her delirium.
Even though he viewed the child as the product of a sinful affair, something in him softened at the sound of your broken sobs. He could not lose you.
Inside the cottage, you gave birth to a baby girl.
She was small, chubby, with a shock of raven hair and big, dark eyes that looked exactly like her father’s. The moment the midwife placed her on your chest, fresh tears streamed down your face.
“She looks like him…” you whispered, hoarse and broken. “My little love… she has his eyes.”
You held her close, sobbing softly as the pain and grief mixed with a fragile, overwhelming love. Even in your exhaustion, you couldn’t stop crying. You believed Sir Jungkook was dead. The thought that your daughter would never know her father tore you apart.
Maera wept beside you, gently stroking your hair. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Just like her mother.”
Outside, the King stood in the rain, waiting.
When the door finally opened and the midwife stepped out, he demanded to know if you and the child were alive. Upon hearing they both were, something in his hardened heart shifted.
He turned to his captain without a word and gave the order.
“Send riders to the western borders at once. Bring Sir Jeon Jungkook back. Tell him… his princess has need of him.”
It would take time. The borders were far, and the roads were muddy from the storms. A week, perhaps a month.
In the quiet warmth of the cottage, you held your newborn daughter against your chest, wrapped in soft linen.
You rocked her gently as she fussed against your breast, nursing hungrily. Your maids and Maera moved around you, bringing broth, fresh cloths, and ever soft words. But you barely spoke. The grief had hollowed you out.
“I wish you could meet your father,” you whispered to the baby one quiet night, voice cracking. Tears slipped down your cheeks as she latched on again. “He would have held you so carefully. He would have loved you more than anything in this world. He would have protected us both…”
Maera sat beside you, her own eyes red from mourning. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would have been so proud,” she said softly. “Of both of you.”
You could only nod, throat too tight to speak. The emptiness inside you felt endless. Every time the baby cried, every time she looked up at you with those familiar dark eyes, the pain returned like a fresh wound.
The King demanded your return to the palace, as you were still royalty, still bound to your father’s will despite carrying a child out of wedlock. He wrote letter after letter insisting you resume your duties and prepare for the inevitable marriage to Prince Min. You refused to answer most of them.
Your maids tried their best to comfort you, but even they could not reach the depths of your sorrow. The only light in your world was your daughter. Tiny, perfect, with Jungkook’s dark eyes and a tuft of raven hair. You held her constantly, whispering stories about her father, singing lullabies with a voice that often broke halfway through.
You mourned him deeply. The King had not even granted him a proper funeral. No rites. No chance to say goodbye. Just a bloodied cloak and a cold declaration.
One quiet evening, Maera left the cottage to fetch groceries from the nearby village. Your maids had been called back to the palace on the King’s orders, duties they could not refuse. For the first time in weeks, it was just you and your baby in the small, warm cottage.
You sat by the window, cradling her in your arms. She cooed softly, tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you gently rocked her. For a few precious minutes, you allowed yourself to smile a real, soft smile as you played with her little hands and kissed her forehead.
“My baby,” you whispered, “The loveliest babe. Don’t tell the queens and princesses, I think they’d be terribly jealous.”
The baby blinked up at you. “Oh, yes,” you continued solemnly. “Especially of those cheeks.”
You leaned back in the chair as exhaustion eventually won over you, your eyes growing heavy. With your daughter nestled safely against your chest, sleep claimed you quickly.
When you woke, the cottage was awfully quiet.
Your arms were empty.
Panic slammed into you like a physical blow. You shot upright, heart hammering wildly as you looked around the room.
The baby was gone.
“No… no, no, no...” you gasped, stumbling to your feet, voice rising into a broken sob. “Where is my baby?!”
You searched frantically, under the blankets, behind the chairs, near the hearth, terror clawing at your throat. Your mind spun with nightmarish possibilities. Had someone taken her? Had the King sent men to steal her away?
Then you saw him.
A tall figure standing near the doorway, cradling your daughter gently in his strong arms. She was sleeping peacefully against his chest, tiny fist curled into his tunic.
Your knees buckled.
It was Sir Jungkook.
He looked exhausted, travel worn, mud on his boots, shadows under his eyes, but he was alive. Real. His dark eyes met yours, filled with unbearable love and pain.
You stared at him, trembling violently, refusing to believe what you were seeing.
“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, this isn’t real. You’re dead. They told me you were dead. This is another dream. You always come in my dreams and then you leave me again—”
Your voice cracked into a sob as you backed away, hands clutching your chest.
“You left me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You left me and our child. I mourned you. I almost died mourning you. Please… don’t do this to me again. I can’t take another dream. I can’t wake up to find you gone again.”
Sir Jungkook’s face crumpled with anguish. He took one careful step forward, still cradling your daughter like the most precious thing in the world.
“My love,” he said hoarsely, voice breaking. “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m real. Your father… he lied. He sent me away to the borders to keep me from you. But I came back the moment he allowed it. I rode without stopping.”
You shook your head harder, tears falling faster, refusing to believe it even as your heart screamed at you to run to him.
“You’re dead,” you repeated, voice small and shattered. “You have to be dead… because if you’re not, then you let me believe it. You never answered my letters. Not one. I wrote to you every single day, pouring my heart out, begging you to come back to me, to our child… and you never...”
Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as the pain twisted deeper.
“You were in on it, weren’t you?” you whispered, voice breaking. “You let my father tell me you were gone. You left me here to rot in grief while I carried your child alone. How could you?”
The knight’s face crumpled with agony. He took a step forward, but you flinched, and he stopped immediately, hands trembling at his sides.
Before he could speak, your daughter stirred in his arms. As if sensing the suffocating tension in the room, she let out a sharp, hungry cry, her little lips puckering, tiny fists waving.
You moved without thinking, reaching for her. Sir Jungkook gently handed her over, his hands lingering for a moment as if afraid to let go. You turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed and loosening your dress to feed her. The baby latched on eagerly, her cries softening into small, contented sounds.
The knight stood there, watching you in silence. He looked lost, this battle-hardened soldier, returned from war, now completely unsure how to comfort the woman he loved. He slowly lowered himself to his knees in the middle of the room, head bowed.
“I wrote to you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Every chance I had. Your father… he made sure none of my letters reached you. He wanted you to believe I was gone. I fought every day to come back to you. I almost died trying to get word to you.”
You didn’t look at him. You kept your eyes on your daughter, tears falling silently onto her soft hair.
“I mourned you like a widow,” you whispered, voice thick with pain. “I almost died. And now you’re here… acting like you didn’t abandon me when I needed you most.”
The words cut awfully deep. Sir Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, but he stayed on his knees, silent and respectful, giving you the space your wounded heart demanded.
Your daughter stirred in your arms, letting out a small, distressed whimper as if she could sense the storm raging between her parents. You rocked her gently, pressing a kiss to her soft raven hair.
“Shh, my sweet one,” you cooed softly, “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”
Sir Jungkook’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, to touch you, to hold both of you, but he remained still, jaw clenched tight. He was no longer in full armor, only a worn tunic and breeches, his appearance shambled from the long ride, fresh bruises blooming across his knuckles and jaw.
You turned away from him, focusing on the small tasks that had become your life in the cottage. The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the roof like a relentless drum.
You moved about the space, stirring the pot of stew over the fire, folding fresh linens, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind from breaking completely.
Hours passed in heavy silence. When your daughter finally grew fussy again, you nursed her by the hearth until her little eyes fluttered shut. You laid her gently in the wooden cradle Maera had prepared, stroking her cheek one last time before covering her with a soft blanket.
Only then did you notice movement near the door.
Sir Jungkook was standing there, cloak in hand, quietly preparing to leave.
Something inside you fractured. You stepped toward him, voice cracking. “You’re leaving again?”
He turned slowly, eyes filled with torment. “I was only going to check the perimeter. The rain is heavy, and I… I didn’t want to burden you further.”
You stared at him, this warrior who had survived hell just to return to you, and the dam finally broke.
“Come here,” you whispered.
He obeyed without hesitation.
You led him to your bed and with trembling hands, you began removing his tunic, revealing the damage the war had left behind.
New bruises painted his ribs and shoulders in shades of purple and blue. Fresh scars, still healing, cut across his chest and abdomen. He looked harder, a man who had walked through fire and barely returned.
Your lips trembled, but you forced yourself to stay steady. You turned away briefly, gathering clean linen strips, salve, and a bowl of warm water. When you returned, the knight stood perfectly still, letting you see all of him, the bruises, the brutal evidence of everything he had endured just to return to you.
You began tending to him in silence, your hands gentle as you cleaned a particularly nasty cut along his side. But the more you looked, the more the dam inside you cracked.
“What have they done to you, Jungkook?” you whispered, voice breaking. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you carefully wrapped a bandage around his ribs. “You’re… you’re covered in pain. All of this… just to come back to me?”
He stood motionless, letting you care for him, but his dark eyes never left your face.
“I would go through it a thousand times more,” he said softly, “if it meant coming back to you and our daughter.”
You shook your head, fresh tears falling as you pressed a bandage over another wound. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I can’t bear thinking of you suffering like this. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again, and now you’re here… broken because of me.”
Sir Jungkook slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you, even though you were still trying to tend to him. The powerful knight, the man who had survived war, knelt before you like the loyal protector he had always been.
“Your Highness,” he murmured, head slightly bowed, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you. I wasn’t here when you needed me most. I wasn’t here when you carried our child. I wasn’t here when you gave birth. I wasn’t here when they told you I was gone. Forgive me.”
You dropped the bandages and pulled him into your arms, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, clinging to you like a man who had almost lost everything.
A broken sob tore from his throat.
Your knight, your warrior, the strongest person you had ever known, cried against your chest like a child. Deep, shuddering sobs that shook his powerful frame as his arms tightened around you.
“I thought I lost you,” he choked out, voice muffled against your skin. “Every night on the border, I prayed I would make it back to you. To both of you.”
You held him tighter, fingers threading through his raven hair, your own tears falling onto his head.
“You’re here now,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re here. You came back to us. That’s all that matters.”
For a long time, the only sounds in the cottage were the rain outside, the crackling fire, and the quiet, heartbroken sobs of a knight who had finally returned to his princess.
—
The rain had not eased by the middle of the night. It hammered against the thatched roof like an impatient army. You had fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms on the narrow bed, your daughter nestled safely in her cradle beside you. For the first time in months, your sleep was deep and dreamless.
A sharp knock on the cottage door shattered the peace.
Sir Jungkook was awake in an instant. He slipped from the bed silently, pulling on his tunic and reaching for the sword he had left by the door. His body was still tense from war, every muscle ready for threat.
“Stay here,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I will see who it is.”
But you already knew.
A cold certainty settled in your chest. You rose, wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, and followed him despite his warning. Your daughter stirred but remained asleep.
Sir Jungkook opened the door, sword half drawn, rain pouring behind the figure standing outside.
It was the King.
Your father stood in the downpour, cloak heavy with water, face pale and drawn. Guards waited at a respectful distance, torches flickering weakly in the storm. His eyes moved past your knight and landed on you.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then the King stepped inside without invitation, water dripping onto the wooden floor. His gaze softened when it fell on you — his only daughter, still pale from childbirth, carrying the weight of grief and motherhood.
“My child,” he said, voice rough. “You must return to the palace. You are still royalty. Still my blood. You do not belong in a cottage like this.”
You stood straighter, even as exhaustion and lingering pain made your body ache.
“I belong where I choose,” you replied quietly, but firmly. “And I will not return without Sir Jeon. He is my knight. He is the father of my daughter. He stays with me.”
The King’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jungkook, who stood tall and silent beside you, sword now lowered but ready.
“I know what you are to each other,” the King said heavily. “I have known for some time. Prince Min is a fool and a coward, but his bloodline is strong. The alliance—”
“I will not marry him,” you cut in, voice steady despite the tears gathering in your eyes. “I will return to the palace. I will perform my duties as princess, as future queen. I will be the ruler this kingdom needs. But only if Sir Jungkook remains at my side. As my knight. As the man I have chosen. As the only man with any right to me.”
The King looked at you for a long time. He saw the woman you had become, not just his rebellious daughter, but a figure of quiet strength. The people in the surrounding villages spoke of you with reverence. They told stories of the princess who helped common women, shared food during hard winters, who listened to their troubles as if they mattered as much as any noble’s.
The King exhaled slowly, defeated but not broken.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Sir Jeon will return with you. He will remain your personal knight. But this… affair… must remain hidden from the court. For now.”
You nodded once, relief flooding through you.
The King’s gaze drifted to the cradle where your daughter slept. He had not yet seen her. You had kept her away from him, protecting her with every fiber of your being.
He took one hesitant step toward the cradle, then stopped, as if afraid.
The King’s shoulders sagged. For the first time in years, he looked truly old.
“Bring her home,” he said quietly. “Both of you. We will find a way.”
When the heavy door of the cottage finally closed behind your father, you let out a huge, shaky sigh. The weight of the conversation pressed on your chest like a stone. You turned and walked to the cradle, gently lifting your daughter into your arms. She stirred but settled quickly against your chest.
Sir Jungkook followed silently behind you, his presence warm.
“I would not trust him,” you whispered, voice laced with bitterness. “My father lied. He did all of this, told me you were dead, kept us apart, made me believe I had lost you forever. How can I believe a single word he says now?”
Jungkook stepped closer. He gently wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head as you held your daughter.
“Petal,” he murmured softly, the old endearment slipping out like a balm. “Your father is a hard man, but he is not as cold as he pretends to be. He sent for me the moment he learned you had gone into labor. He could have kept me away forever. But he didn’t.”
You turned slightly in his arms, eyes wide with disbelief.
The knight continued, low and calm.
“There was one night… when you were still heavy with our child and very sick. I rode through a storm to reach you. Your father allowed it. He let me see you. I held you while you slept, fevered and restless. I whispered to you. I kissed your forehead and promised I would return. But I had to leave before dawn. He made me swear not to wake you. He said it would only make the pain worse when I had to go back to the borders.”
You stared at him, stunned. Tears welled up again.
“That night… it was real?” you whispered. “I thought it was a dream. I thought I imagined your arms around me.”
“It was real,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I was there. And I have regretted leaving you every single day since.”
You turned fully toward him, still cradling your daughter. The baby had woken and was fussing softly. You loosened your dress and began to feed her.
Sir Jungkook watched the two of you with such open love and longing that it made your chest ache.
“She has your eyes,” you said softly, brushing a finger over your daughter’s cheek. “So dark and beautiful. Just like yours.”
Sir Jungkook’s expression softened further. He reached out, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand.
“And she is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured. “I hope she grows to be as strong as her. As kind. As full of fire and love.”
For a while, the only sounds were the soft suckling of your daughter and the rain pattering against the roof. Sir Jungkook stayed close, one arm around your waist, the other lightly resting near the baby.
Eventually, after your daughter had fallen asleep again, you made the decision.
“We will return to the palace,” you said quietly. “Together. As a family. I will not hide anymore.”
The next morning, after tender farewells to Maera, who hugged you both tightly and kissed her granddaughter’s forehead with tears in her eyes, you left the cottage.
—
Three Months Later,
The palace had transformed around you.
After your return, the finest healers in the realm were summoned, learned men and women versed in herbs and ancient remedies. They tended to you with the utmost care, restoring the strength you had lost in grief and childbirth. Slowly, the hollow exhaustion faded. Color returned to your cheeks. Your body healed, and with it, your spirit bloomed once more.
You were treated not merely as royalty, but as something sacred. The people whispered that the Princess had returned more radiant than before, as if the earth itself had blessed her.
Your maids, Elara, Verra, and Selyse, were beyond ecstatic to have you back. They fussed over you constantly, brushing your long hair until it shone, dressing you in the finest silks, and whispering prayers of gratitude for your safe return.
The kingdom now knew the truth: the child was Sir Jeon Jungkook’s. The scandal had spread like wildfire, but instead of outrage, most of the people embraced it. They saw their princess glowing, and fiercely protected.
Prince Min had tried to slander you upon his return, calling you impure, unfit, a disgrace for bearing a knight’s child out of wedlock. Sir Jungkook had nearly killed him in the great hall before the King’s guards pulled him back. Prince Min was expelled from the kingdom that very day, the alliance shattered. No one mourned his departure.
It was a warm evening when you returned to the royal bathing pool, surrounded by floating lily pads and fragrant white blossoms. The water shimmered under the sunlight as your maids helped you undress. Your daughter, now three months old and full of life, babbled happily in Elara’s arms, reaching for you with chubby little hands.
“Come here, my sweet,” you cooed, taking her into the warm water with you. She immediately nestled against your bare chest, tiny fingers grasping at your long, wavy hair as you gently rocked her. She was a needy little thing, always wanting her mother’s warmth, her scent, her voice.
Verra smiled as she poured scented oil over your shoulders. “She adores you, my lady. Look at those big, bejeweled eyes.”
You glanced toward the far bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, as always. He was no longer forced to hide. He remained your personal knight, ever watchful and devoted. His gaze met yours across the water, soft with love and quiet pride. He had become even more protective since your return, rarely leaving your side unless duty demanded it.
The King had grown strangely silent on the matter of your relationship. Seeing you flourish and beloved by the people, had turned him into something of a coward when it came to opposing you.
He doted on his granddaughter in private, though he still struggled to fully accept the circumstances. Yet he no longer pushed for any other marriage. He had seen what happened when he tried to separate you from your knight.
Bit by bit, your beauty had deepened into something almost otherworldly, skin luminous, eyes bright with life, a gentle fullness to your figure from motherhood that only made you more captivating. You moved through the palace performing your duties with grace while still finding time to help the common women who came to the gates seeking aid. You had become more than a princess.
At night, when the palace slept, Sir Jungkook was yours completely.
He would slip into your chambers, shed his armor, and worship you with slow hands and mouth. He made love to you like a man who had walked through hell and returned only for this. You clung to him every night, whispering how much you loved him, how you had chosen him long before the crown ever mattered.
Your daughter babbled softly, pulling at your long hair again with her tiny fist, drawing a soft, delighted laugh from you.
“Oh, my little one,” you cooed, gently untangling her fingers from your waves before pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “You are going to pull Mama’s hair right off if you keep that up, aren’t you? Such a strong little flower.”
She giggled in your arms, reaching up to pat your face with her small, uncoordinated hand, her big dark eyes, exact replicas of her father’s, sparkling with pure joy. The resemblance was almost startling even at such a young age. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
Elara sighed dreamily as she poured warm water over your shoulders. “Look at her, my lady. She is perfection. She already has the whole palace wrapped around her tiny finger.”
Verra nodded, gently massaging oil into your hair. “And you, my princess. You glow like the sun itself these days. Motherhood suits you more than any crown ever could.”
Selyse, ever the wise one, glanced toward the bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, fully armored but with his helmet removed today. A small, teasing smile tugged at her lips.
“And that one over there… he can’t take his eyes off the two of you. Look at him, standing there like a lovesick fool in steel. Our fierce knight, brought to his knees by a baby and her mother.”
The knight’s ears turned faintly red, but he didn’t deny it. His gaze remained soft, locked on you and your daughter with quiet awe and devotion.
Later that evening, in the royal rose gardens where he had once walked beside you as your new knight, Sir Jungkook carried your daughter in his arms.
He was still in full armor, crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders, but he held her with such careful gentleness it made your heart melt. The baby was dressed in the softest cream colored gown embroidered with tiny golden flowers, a little bonnet tied under her chin. She looked like a living doll against his armored chest.
She reached up with both hands, grabbing at the edge of his armor, babbling excitedly as she tried to pull herself closer to his face. When he leaned down, she patted his cheek with a wet, sloppy kiss.
Sir Jungkook’s entire expression softened into something almost boyish. He smiled, genuine and devastatingly handsome.
“My little love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
You walked beside them, heart full as you watched your daughter play with the buckles on his armor. Every time he lowered his head to let her see his face, she lit up. But when he playfully put his helmet back on for a moment to tease her, she immediately fussed, letting out a small, indignant cry and reaching for him with both arms.
“No helmet,” you laughed softly. “She hates it. She wants to see her father’s face.”
Sir Jungkook removed it immediately, tucking it under one arm while cradling her with the other. He leaned down so she could press her tiny palms against his cheeks and give him another sloppy kiss on the jaw.
The maids watching from a distance cooed and teased him lightly.
“Look at that,” Verra whispered loudly enough for him to hear. “Who would have thought the man who survived the western borders would be brought down by tiny hands and gummy smiles?”
Later that night, the heavy oak door to your royal chambers was barred, only the soft glow of candles and the low fire in the hearth illuminated the room.
You stood before the tall mirror, slowly changing into your nightgown. The fabric whispered against your skin as it slid down your body. Your gaze caught on the beautiful ring on your finger, the one Sir Jungkook had slipped onto your hand in secret weeks ago, a quiet promise between the two of you. You turned it gently, a small, private smile touching your lips.
Your daughter lay nestled against your bare chest, warm and content, her tiny fingers curled around the edge of your loosened gown. She babbled softly, her big dark eyes full of adoration for her mother.
Sir Jungkook stood a few steps behind you, fully armored except for his helmet, watching the two of you with quiet awe. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting every healed scar and the lingering shadows of war that still clung to him.
You gently laid your daughter in her ornate cradle, pressing one last kiss to her forehead as she drifted into sleep. Then you returned to the mirror, picking up the silver brush to run it through your long, wavy hair.
Sir Jungkook followed without a word. He stopped behind you, his large hands resting lightly on your waist. Slowly, he leaned down and began pressing soft kisses along your bare arms, from shoulder to wrist, as you continued brushing your hair.
You giggled softly, cheeks flushing with that familiar shyness even after all this time.
“Jungkook…” you murmured, breathy. “You ought to distract me.”
“Good,” he whispered against your skin, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “I have missed you all day. I need my darling.”
He dropped to his knees behind you with a quiet clink of armor, bowing his head in his familiar, devoted way. You turned to face him, running your fingers through his raven hair, then tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scars that remained on his face.
You saddened for a moment, remembering the brutality he had endured.
But he looked up at you with such pure worship that it took your breath away. To him, you were more than a princess. you were his salvation, the very source of life that had healed him.
You pulled him closer, and he rose, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and carrying you to the grand bed.
The knight laid you down gently, then began to worship you with slow, reverent hands. He unlaced your nightgown with painstaking care, peeling the silk away until you were bare before him. His mouth found your breasts immediately, sucking softly on one sensitive nipple, then the other, drinking the sweet milk that flowed for him with deep, grateful groans.
You moaned softly, fingers threading through his hair as he fed from you, his tongue swirling, lips sealed tight around your peak. He drank like a man who had been starving for you, savoring every drop as if it were the very essence of life itself.
Sir Jungkook groaned deeply against your breast, the sound vibrating through your chest as he drank almost desperately. His large hand cradled the soft weight of your breast, squeezing gently to draw more from you while his other hand stroked your side with reverent tenderness.
“So sweet,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and worshipful. “You give me life, my petal. You heal what war tried to break.”
You whimpered, arching into his mouth, overwhelmed by the intimate, sacred act, fresh heat blooming between your thighs.
When he finally released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with dark, adoring eyes.
“You are my salvation,” he murmured, kissing the valley between your breasts before moving lower. “The mother of my child. The light that brought me home.”
When he finally moved lower, he spread your thighs with firm hands and settled between them. He looked up at you once, eyes dark with devotion, before lowering his mouth to your core.
He worshipped your flower, seeking nectar with slow, deep licks that made your back arch, followed by gentle suction on your swollen clit. His tongue delved inside you, tasting every inch, groaning at your sweetness as if it were the most sacred thing he had ever known.
You whimpered and moaned, hips rolling against his handsome face as pleasure built in waves. He was relentless yet tender, bringing you to the edge again and again before letting you tip over.
When you finally begged for him, voice trembling with need, Sir Jungkook rose above you like a knight before his altar.
He did not rush. Instead, he sat back on his heels, dark eyes drinking in every inch of your bare, flushed body with such raw hunger that it made your skin burn. You felt vulnerable and impossibly desired under that gaze. A shy, breathless giggle escaped your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.
Sir Jungkook reached out with one large, calloused hand and traced a single finger slowly down your body, from the delicate line of your throat, between your heaving breasts, over the soft curve of your belly, and down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch ever so feather light, yet it left fire in its wake.
“You are a goddess made flesh,” he whispered, voice hoarse with awe. “And I am but a mortal who has been granted the honor of kneeling at your feet.”
He leaned down and pressed his forehead to your thigh in a gesture of pure worship, eyes closed, breath warm against your skin as if he were praying to the only deity he had ever believed in.
Then he moved over you, settling between your spread thighs. His thick cock pressed against your entrance, hot and heavy. He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed inside, inch by thick, stretching inch, filling you so completely that your mouth fell open in a silent cry.
You dug your nails into his back as he began to move, first slow and loving, then harder, deeper, claiming you with every thrust.
“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, hips snapping forward. “I love you more than life itself.”
When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears of overwhelming pleasure in your eyes. Jungkook followed moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a low, broken groan, filling you with pulse after pulse of his release.
In the quiet that followed, with the knight’s arms still wrapped around you and the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, it was strangely easy to remember the day he had first knelt before the throne.
The impenetrable knight clad in steel, sworn to protect a princess draped in silk. and protect you he would, as though it had been carved into the marrow of every breath he would draw, for eternity.
editing thid in a few hours. thankyou so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are very much appreciated mwah love you all 🫶💋
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It’s New Years Eve and Jungkook would rather be anywhere else than at his company’s massive party. Sure, he’s a guest of honor and his team rented out the nicest hotel in Seoul, but ringing in the New Year with you on the other side of the world just feels wrong. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to celebrate without the woman he loves, but maybe- just maybe…he won’t have to…
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Idol! Jk, Dom! Jk (oops), established relationship au, long distance au, smut, fluff
Word Count: 11,239
Warnings: a teeny bit of angst, use of alcohol (jungkook and yn are sober), biting, marking, scratching, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control), dirty talking, doggy style, slight elements of dom/sub dynamics, squirting.
A/N: Happy New Year, cuties <3 s/o to @bulletproofbirdy and @gldnrecs for putting up with me screaming about this jk. Love you both!!! Let me know what you think ^-^
Jungkook grumbles to himself as his long fingers desperately try to unravel the tangled mass of party decorations.
He HATES parties.
But the company is insisting on throwing a massive one for it’s employees, which (unfortunately) includes him and six of his best friends.
One could argue that they are probably fairly important employees, considering the fact that they bring in nearly 80% of the company’s revenue, but Jungkook? Literally. Doesn’t. Care.
It’s New Year’s Eve.
He wants to spend it at home with some good alcohol and a FEW friends.
Jungkook’s newest obsession with vlogging turns into the two of you making your first sex tape together.
Pairing - jungkook x reader
Genre - 18+ established relationship au, smut MDNI
wc -3.4k
Warnings - filming sex ofc, lotss of kissing, pet names, big d jk, marking, biting, oral f. and m. receiving, fingering, breast play, unprotected sex, crying, praises, riding, missionary, cumming on body, rough sex, overstimulation, some filthy cum play, they're jst really cutee ((
a/n - every time I think I’ve already written the most filthiest thing I could, I somehow come up with something even more ridiculous 😔 oh n I also plan to post one more fic by this week hopefully!!
The staff guides you to Jungkook’s room and leaves after opening the door for you. You gently push the door open and step inside to find Jin walking out from the living area. He breaks into a smile greeting you before telling how impatient Jungkook’s been waiting for you all day.
Your excitement dims a little when you realize your surprise clearly isn’t a surprise anymore making him laugh. He explains that Jungkook found out you were coming earlier in the morning from one of the staff.
You end up laughing while Jin leaves dramatically rambling about being fed up of Jungkook's camera. Needless to say that the world has been witnessing Jungkook’s current obsession in real time. For the past week he’s been recording absolutely everything.
Once the door clicks shut, you take off your shoes and sit on the edge of the bed.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opens. Jungkook steps out wearing a black tank top and black shorts. His hair is a little damp, water droplets slide down his neck and toned arms.
He holds his camera in his left hand absentmindedly checking the screen.
The moment his eyes land on you, you stand up and practically run to him. Jungkook drops the camera onto the nearby couch and catches you as you jump into his arms, legs wrapping tightly around his waist. He holds you close with his strong arms.
“Fuck baby, I was waiting for so long,” he breathes against your neck inhaling your scent.
“I wanted to surprise you,” you pout lightly. “Jin oppa told me you already knew I was coming today.”
Jungkook lets out a soft laugh and pulls back to look at your face.
“I can still act super surprised if you want."
You roll your eyes and your pout fades as he leans in and kisses you. The kiss quickly turns hungry as his lips move against yours with weeks of built-up longing.
Jungkook moves carrying you in his arms. One hand reaches out to place the camera on the stand in front of the bed, adjusting it quickly until it faces both of you properly.
A giggle slips from you immediately.
“New vlog?”
Jungkook grins against your lips.
"With your cameo.”
You shake your head fondly while he sits down on the edge of the bed with you straddling his lap. His hands slide down to grip your waist as the kiss grows nothing but more messier.
“I missed you so fucking much."
You pull back to reply the same. “I missed you too,” you take his cheeks between your hands before placing so many more of your kisses.
His hands roam around touching you everywhere. sliding down to grip your ass, then moving back up. “Your tour’s going really well,” you try speaking in between. “Everyone’s doing so good.”
Jungkook hums against your mouth, clearly distracted. His lips trail down to your neck sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks. you throw your head back, letting out a breathless moan.
His thumb brushes over your breasts, making you shiver.
and your eyes suddenly drift to the side.
“kook...” you breath out. “your camera..”
Jungkook slides his tongue deep into your mouth before pulling back to speak against it.
“What about it?”
Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You both know exactly what’s happening. although you trust Jungkook with your entire soul, the idea of being recorded like this makes nervousness and arousal swirl together inside you.
“You want me to stop it?”
His fingers remain under your top as he waits for your answer.
You bite your lower lip with a little hesitation, but the heat in his eyes and the way your body is aching for him takes over and you slowly shake your head. Jungkook’s smirk is pure sin as he bites your earlobe.
“Good girl."
His hands pull you down harder against his growing erection. mouth crashing back onto yours. you kiss him back just as desperately, your hands sliding up to grip his biceps, feeling his new muscles flex under your fingers.
You start grinding slowly on him. the thin fabric of your pants rubs against him and you can feel everything.
You know he isn’t wearing anything underneath because you can feel the outline of his cock rubbing perfectly against your clit through your clothes.
“fuck... I missed you,” Jungkook’s words come out husky against your lips. “missed you so fucking much, baby.”
wet sounds fill the room as your tongues slide together. his palm is hot against your waist. the other squeezes your ass harder, encouraging you to grind down on his cock.
Jungkook pulls back to tug your top up. You lift your arms for him and he yanks it off. His eyes drop to your chest and his dick twitches at the sight of you wearing his new design.
He curses deeply as his eyes darken the more he takes you in. “You planning to kill me, princess?”
Your breathless laugh quickly turns into a surprised gasp as Jungkook flips you over—caging you in with his arms like you're his prey.
His mouth finds your neck much rougher this time. marking across all over your throat and collarbones.
You squeak with a small laugh when he bites a little too roughly on your shoulder.
“Koo—!” you gasp, half-laughing, half-moaning.
Jungkook chuckles darkly against your skin but doesn’t stop. He soothes the bite with his tongue while his hands slide up to squeeze over your covered breasts.
“You look so fucking good in my design,” he speaks with dripping need. “But I want it off soon.”
He palms your pussy roughly through your pants, pressing the heel of his hand against your clit. The pressure makes you jerk against him.
“jungkoo—” your voice already breaks.
He hums in satisfaction while kissing down your body. His lips trail open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, tongue dipping into your belly button before moving even lower. His fingers hook into the waistband of your pants and tug them down.
“Look at this mess,” he eyes the large wet patch soaking through your panties. He leans down to press a torturous kiss right over your aching pussy.
“Tell me how much you missed me, baby.”
You whimper desperately. “so much, kook... please… I missed you so much.”
Just as the words leave your mouth, Jungkook rips your panties down your legs before diving in immediately like a starved man.
The first long lick from your entrance to your clit makes you moan loudly. his tongue laps at your soaked folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. The metal of his piercing adds a delicious sensation sending shockwaves through your body with every flick.
Jungkook eats you like he’s addicted. pushing in his tongue inside you. your thighs shake around his head as his deep groans vibrate against your core.
your eyes suddenly drift to the side and rush of embarrassment hits you but this time it only makes you wetter.
you almost whine at the loss of his mouth when Jungkook pulls back with lips and chin glistening with your arousal.
He returns back with his camera, placing it in your hands and adjusting it so the lens faces him between your spread legs.
“Hold it steady for me,” he instructs you before settling back.
your hands tremble slightly as you grip the camera. your pussy clenches visibly under his gaze.
Jungkook smirks at your nervousness before diving back in. his mouth latches onto your pussy again with a new vigour.
He circles his tongue over your swollen clit slowly while he looks straight into the camera lens. and you make the mistake of looking down at the filthy scene. the sight only makes your pussy gush fresh slick onto his tongue.
You moan loudly, struggling to keep the camera steady. The pleasure is too intense as your arms start shaking.
Jungkook pulls back slightly before growling at you, “I told you to hold it steady, baby. I need good footage of me eating this pretty pussy.”
He slaps your thigh lightly as a teasing punishment before pushing two thick fingers inside you, curling instantly against your g-spot while his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit.
A few tears slip down your eyes.
“Kook— ahh— I can’t— fuck!”
“Yes you can,” he chuckles darkly against your fold.
As his fingers pump faster, your thighs tremble violently around his head. you’re barely able to keep the camera focused on him with the pleasure making your vision blur. your back arches sharply off the bed, pussy clenching hard around his fingers. Jungkook groans in satisfaction completely lost in your taste.
He laps at every drop of your release drinking you down greedily.
You try to close your legs.
“koo— too much—”
Jungkook lets out an almost angry groan against your pussy and forcefully spreads your legs wider. his mouth continues making sure he gets every last drop.
Tears gather in the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure as broken moans keep spilling from your lips. Only when your body starts twitching hard does Jungkook finally pull back.
He places one last tender kiss on your sensitive clit before lifting his head.
He rises onto his knees between your spread legs and tugs his black tank top off before wiping his chin with it and tossing aside. You try focusing your teary eyes on him.
Jungkook takes the camera from your shaky hands and places it on the bed for a moment. He leans down to kiss you deeply.
“You good, baby?” he asks softly against your lips.
You hum weakly in response. your hands roam over his bare torso, feeling the hard ridges of his abs.
“You’ve gained more muscles…” you whisper out.
Jungkook hums darkly and you feel him flexing his body under your touch.
“You like it?” his eyes locks on yours.
You bite your lip and lean up to biting his jaw in response. “so much..”
Jungkook chuckles as his hands work to remove your bra leaving you completely bare for him. Jungkook’s hands are back on the camera as he sits on his heels between your legs and angles the lens towards your flushed face.
“Is this good, my love?”
You suddenly feel extremely exposed under the camera’s gaze. Your cheeks heat up instantly. You give him a weak nod unable to speak properly.
Jungkook’s expression softens with pure fondness while his eyes stay dark on you.
“You’re really shy about the camera, huh?”
He reaches out with his free hand and gently strokes your flushed cheek with his thumb then drags it to press against your bottom lip, slightly pulling it down.
“So cute,” he murmurs almost to himself.
Jungkook can't resist but place some loving pecks on your cheeks making you both giggle.
“Say hi to my vlog, baby,” he teases.
You whine shyly, trying to turn your face away. Jungkook breathes out a laugh before cupping one of your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh before his fingers find your already hardened nipple. He rolls it between his thumb and forefinger.
Your eyes flutter shut instinctively, teeth sinking into your lower lip to trap the moan threatening to spill out.
“Don’t hide those pretty eyes from me.”
You eyes lift to meet his intense stare, the moment you do—he brings his hand to his mouth spitting onto his fingers letting a generous amount of saliva coat them before returning his hand to your chest. He spreads the slickness over both buds, coating and tugging them between his wet fingers making your back arch off the bed.
Your legs squirm restlessly beneath him, thighs pressing together as fresh heat floods your core.
His eyes flick down between your legs, watching the way your pussy glistens under the light.
“You like how I ruin you, don’t you?” he rasps with dark satisfaction.
His thumb eventually leaves your nipple and slides up to your mouth. He presses the pad of it against your lips.
You part your lips as he pushes his thumb inside and immediately start sucking on it—swirling your tongue around the digit like you would his cock.
“So fucking greedy for me,” Jungkook hisses.
The sight of you sucking so eagerly on his thumb while your nipples are shiny and swollen from his spit has his cock throbbing painfully in his sweats.
Your eyes drift down his body to his bulge straining against his shorts.
with a needy whimper, you pull him down by his broad shoulders onto the bed. He lets out a surprised chuckle and you climb over him kissing down his body. Your lips press against his warm skin. You trail wet kisses over his chest, paying extra attention to the beautiful tattoos decorating his skin.
Your tongue traces the lines of his ink, tasting the faint salt of his sweat.
God, you wish you could mark him the way he marks you — leave dark hickeys and bite marks all over his perfect body for everyone to see. but for now, you make up for it by worshipping him with your mouth, determined to make him feel as good as he made you.
Jungkook’s free hand comes to rest in your hair as you move further down.
finally, you hook your fingers into the waistband of his shorts and tug them down impatiently. His cock springs free, slapping against his toned stomach. The pink tip glistens with precum.
You wrap your lips around the leaking head and suck, too impatient to tease him. Jungkook curses sharply. Your favourite musky taste of him explodes on your tongue and you moan louder around his cock.
You take him deeper right away, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head, working the top half of his length with eager sounds.
Jungkook’s head falls back for a second, momentarily forgetting about the camera in his hand. But he quickly recovers, lifting it again and angling it perfectly to capture the sinful sight of his beautiful girlfriend sucking his cock so greedily.
“shit, baby.. look at you,” he groans. “always fucking hungry for my cock.”
His praises only makes you take him deeper until he hits the back of your throat.
Jungkook’s hand tightens in your hair guiding you as he pushes your head down a little more. The pressure makes you gag around him.
“that’s it.. fuck — just like that,” his abs clenching as he watches you through the camera. “my good girl. looking so pretty crying on my cock.”
He starts to thrust up gently, fucking into your warm mouth.
your tears mix with the spit dripping from your chin onto his balls but you don’t stop — you can’t. You want all of him.
Jungkook’s cock twitches in your mouth, the veins pulsing against your tongue. you can feel him getting dangerously close.
but he pulls your head back firmly. a thick string of spit connects your swollen lips to the shiny head of his cock as you gasp for air.
“I need to feel you, baby.. get up here.”
You don’t need to be told twice. while he quickly reaches over and places the camera on the nightstand beside the bed, angling it perfectly to capture both of you, you're already climbing over him.
Your hand wraps around his spit-slick cock, stroking him once before you sink on him. you both moan in unison. Jungkook hisses through gritted teeth biting onto your shoulder.
you whimper, feeling every thick inch stretch you open. He’s so big — always so fucking big that it burns in the most delicious way.
Impatience and pure need take over as you start bouncing on his cock with a desperate rhythm. The slick smack of your soaked pussy taking his cock over and over fills the room.
He pulls you down harder against him, pressing your chests together until your bodies are completely stuck — skin against sweaty skin, your hard nipples rubbing against his chest.
“Give me a kiss.”
You lean in messily, crashing your mouth onto his. moans spill into each other’s mouths. Jungkook thrusts up hard from below, meeting your bounces with powerful strokes that make you cry out into the kiss.
He fucks you like that, reaching you so deep while you ride him like you’re starved for his cock.
Jungkook’s hands slide down to grip your ass, spreading your cheeks as he helps you bounce harder.
He bites into your bottom lip.
“My beautiful baby.. keep riding my cock, princess.”
You clench hard around him, a loud broken moan ripping from your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes through you. The way he’s stretching you and filling you so perfectly just makes your mind go hazy.
Jungkook growls at the feeling and he flips you over with ease. your back hits the mattress before your boyfriend intertwines your fingers and resumes with his rough thrusts.
Your legs wrap weakly around his narrow waist trying to pull him even deeper.
“This pussy is made for me. You are made for me... only for me.”
Your heels dig into his back as he fucks you straight into oblivion.
Jungkook swallows every single moan that spills from your lips. His tongue dominating yours while he rails you into the mattress.
“Tell me, baby,” he demands hotly. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You, Kook—” you sob. “Only for you... only yours—”
“That’s right.”
Your nails dig desperately into the back of his hands. His free hand slides between your bodies finding your swollen clit.
Your eyes roll back as you fall apart again. Your pussy throbs with creamy arousal gushing around his length with a broken scream of his name.
His thrusts become more erratic as he chases his high.
Jungkook blindly reaches for the camera with one hand angling it down at your stomach.
“Fuck.. look at that." He presses his free hand over the bulge in your lower belly feeling his own cock moving inside you. “So pretty, baby. so fucking pretty with my cock inside you.”
He records himself sliding in and out of you slowly glistening with your arousal.
The overstimulation makes you whimper and squirm heavily underneath him. only then does he finally pull out of you.
He kneels between your spread thighs, wrapping his hand around his cock. He strokes himself roughly eyes locked on your fucked-out face.
with a husky groan thick ropes of his warm cum shoot across your stomach and tits — painting your skin in sticky white.
You barely have time to process the filthy sight while Jungkook films himself dragging the swollen head of his cock through his own release, spreading it messily over your skin.
He rubs his cum into your nipple and across your belly — dipping the tip of his cock between your sensitive folds to smear some over your clit.
You watch him with hazy eyes and a heaving chest.
Sometimes you forget just how nasty your boyfriend can really be.
“Such a pretty canvas." Jungkook finally looks up at you through the camera lens with a wild smirk.
title: drakskar
pairings: general!jungkook, yandere!jk x duchess/cadet f!reader
genre: fourth wing au, dark romance, arranged marriage au, smut, porn with plot, fanstasy au
word count: 16,5 K
beta read: lovely @chaoticpuff17
summary: To escape an arranged political marriage to the infamous marked-one general, Jeon Jungkook, you enroll in the Riders Quadrant instead—choosing dragons and near-certain death over becoming his wife. But fate proves crueler than politics when you bond a dragon mated to his.
disclaimer: this is a Fourth Wing AU and therefore borrows lore, concepts, and certain dynamics from Rebecca Yarros’ original worldbuilding. This oneshot was inspired by chapter 22 and explores the idea of what if xaden never taught violet how to shield from the mating bond? all recognizable elements belong to their rightful owners.
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Cadets enrolled in the Riders Quadrant are hereby forbidden from entering into holy matrimony while under active training and service. Any marriage contract, ceremony, or binding recognised outside military authority shall be considered null and void for the duration of enrollment. Violation of this clause is treated as a breach of Quadrant discipline and subject to command review. A rider’s allegiance belongs first to their dragon, then their wing. Marriage is not prohibited. It is deferred until survival is no longer uncertain.
–ARTICLE SEVEN, SECTION TWO
THE DRAGON RIDER’S CODEX
“Are you out of your fucking mind?!”
“In my defence, your proposal was always deeply inconvenient.” You fold your arms. A dangerous pause, you’re waiting for him to snap at you, which…he does.
“We were supposed to be married by now!”
“No, right. My apologies.” You gesture vaguely. Something dark flickers behind his eyes. He pushes off the table and begins walking toward you. His boots echo once. Twice. You hate that your body registers each step as he keeps walking.
“You crossed the parapet,” he says, like he still hasn’t fully accepted the reality of it. “Without training.”
“Yes. I made it.”
“Barely.”
“Still counts.”
He stops in front of you now, close enough that you have to tilt your head back slightly to maintain eye contact.
“You disappeared before dawn,” he says, voice lower now. “Left your family in chaos, your escort unconscious and half the capital convinced you’d been abducted.”
You wince. In fairness, the unconscious escort had been a regrettable necessity. Unhinged move that you’ll be apologising for later…in life.
“They’ll recover.”
“That is not the issue,” you swear you can hear his teeth grind against each other.
“No, I gathered–”
A humourless breath escapes him. For a second, he just looks at you. Not with anger, exactly. Something more exhausting. Like you have personally shortened his lifespan by several years.
“This,” he says quietly, gesturing once toward you, toward Basgiath, toward all of your terrible life choices, “was a deeply irritating move.”
“You thought enrolling here would solve your problem?” Jungkook continues in his…lecture? Preaching?
“It actually did,” you retort.
“No–” his voice is maddeningly certain. “It changed the location of your problem.”
“The Codex is clear.” You fold your arms tighter. That earns you the faintest shift in his expression. Almost amusement. Almost.
“Yes,” Jungkook says dryly. “I’ve finished this death college. I lived by the codex…sort of.”
“Then you understand the complication.”
“You seem to be under the impression that a bureaucratic clause is what was keeping this arrangement intact.”
That… is not the answer you wanted. Your stomach tightens.
“You cannot possibly mean—”
“If you wish to be here,” he cuts in, “then be here.” His tone is level. Controlled. Too controlled.
“I will not drag you from the Riders’ Quadrant because you wanted to prove a goddamn point.”
That surprises you. Enough that your guard slips, just slightly. Jungkook notices. Of course, he notices and continues.
“You crossed the parapet. You earned your place.” There’s something almost respectful in the words. Almost.
Then:
“But let’s be very clear.” His gaze sharpens, pinning you in place more effectively than any physical restraint could.
“This changes absolutely nothing.” The words land like stones. Your jaw tightens and you tighten your fists.
“You don’t get to decide that alone anymore–”
“No,” he agrees, infuriatingly calm. “But you do not get to vanish into a death college and pretend I will simply… what? Move on?”
Well. When he says it like that, it sounds almost ridiculous. Which is inconvenient.
“I entered the Riders’ Quadrant,” you say, forcing steadiness into your voice, “because I–”
“Because you don’t want me? Is that it?” The interruption lands like a blade thrown with terrifying precision. He steps closer, but you don’t move back. Your lips part, but for one humiliating second, absolutely nothing comes out.
Because of all the responses you’d prepared for this conversation—anger, threats, political manipulation, outrage—that was not one of them. Not even remotely. Jungkook watches you carefully. Not like a general assessing a cadet. Like a man waiting for an answer he actually intends to remember.
“Because Basgiath is the only place in this kingdom where my name belongs to me.”
For the first time, something in his expression softens. Not much. Just enough to be dangerous.
“You think I don’t understand that?” That throws you. Because no, actually—you hadn’t considered that possibility. Not really when he was eager to give you his name.
Jungkook studies your face for a long moment before speaking again.
“If being a rider is what you want,” he says, quieter now, “then I’ll allow this.”
“How generous of you.” You bristle instantly. His mouth twitches. But his next words erase any satisfaction you might have gotten from that.
“However,” he says, “if this becomes too much for you—if you are overwhelmed, too injured, or one reckless decision away from becoming dragon food—I will remove you myself.”
“You can’t do that.” Your eyes widen at his proclamation.
“Watch me.”
“The Codex—”
“Fuck the Codex.”
The sheer bluntness of it knocks the air from your lungs. Jungkook leans in slightly, voice dropping low enough to feel less like conversation and more like a threat wrapped in velvet.
“If you thrive here, then fine. Stay. Bond a dragon. Graduate. Become the most insufferable rider Basgiath has ever produced but you will be my wife.”
“The Codex says no cadet can marry while enrolled,” you say, clinging perhaps a little too hard to the one technicality currently standing between you and total loss of autonomy.
As if a paragraph in military law is somehow stronger than the man currently looking at you, like bureaucracy is a mild inconvenience. Jungkook’s expression doesn’t so much as flicker.
“Yes–” he says.
“And eventually, you will no longer be a cadet.”
𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬: the full fic is now available on ko-fi for fairy club subscribers - 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢
Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! Only love please! ♥
Genre: it's majorly just angst, paired with yearning and loads of longing.
Rating: 18+
Word count: tbd
Summary: For five years, Jeon Jungkook was your bodyguard.
And for five years, there were five moments that slowly taught you the same lesson over and over again — that no matter how caring, protective, or gentle he could be, none of it was ever meant to mean anything more.
By the fifth year, the final year of his contract, you have finally learned to let him go.
Unfortunately for Jungkook, that is also the year he realizes he may have fallen in love with you far too late.
Main Masterlist | Patreon
This is a patreon exlusive fic! I assure you, you won't regret it! 😉
life was supposed to go forward the way you had always been told.
find someone, fall in love, get married, have kids.
that was the formula - the routine of every day life that you, yourself, had agreed to. it was supposed to be easy and carefree, the type of love that felt natural and yet definite. it was supposed to be certain.
jeon jungkook.
the love of your life. no one, nothing, could compare to him; the one constant in your life since you were no older than five. two years older than you, he had been the object of your infatuations even then, and though you both harboured a crush on one another as you grew up, it was only when you were 14 that you both actually pursued something.
you both came from broken homes, with your parents entangled in the world of drugs and abuse, his absent more times than present. you had each other though, and that was all either of you had ever really needed - that much had been true for years. it didn’t take long to fall in love with him, not when he treated you like blooming flowers in the first touch of spring; you were more than just his girl. you were his y/n.
no one blinked when he proposed, everyone half expecting it, and neither of you had wanted to wait to plan a lavish wedding when you were both the only constants in each other’s lives. and so, with cheap rings, a random dress you had found at the bottom of your wardrobe and his scuffed shoes - you had become husband and wife.
jungkook was the best partner you could have ever asked for. money was tight in the beginning as he threw himself into his job, making sure he had enough to spoil you rotten even if that meant coming home exhausted. it killed you to see him working so hard, but he never complained, not even once. it was done in the pursuit of his sweet wife, and therefore just.
he quickly began climbing the ranks, his intelligence unmatched, his speed and efficiency making him a force to be reckoned with. in a mere seven years, he had managed to go from the lowest ranking worker in the company right to head office, before formally being announced as ceo.
it was unheard of. people like him, people like you, they didn’t live like this. it felt like over night your entire life had changed, as the tiny, one bed apartment transformed into a penthouse suite in your city’s most reputable area, your beaten down car now more lavish than you could ever dream of. your clothes - silks, linens and luxurious patterns. you were a changed woman, all at the hands of your husband.
that was when the cracks had began to form.
the late nights began, jungkook holed up in his office for far longer than anyone else at the company, stacks of paper all around as he tried to crack numbers before the next day could bring its own workload. you didn’t mind at first, more so worried over anything else.
you packed late dinners, going up to his office and eating them with him just to keep him company, to ground him which he needed more than you could ever realise. he would sit you on his lap as he worked, all whilst you napped peacefully on his shoulder as though this was perfectly normal.
the first few months, it worked. after that, it could no longer hide the gaping hole that had begun to appear.
missed dinners. missed dates. jungkook showing up at two in the morning despite everyone else going home at five in the afternoon - this wasn’t normal. wasn’t healthy. the amount of arguments that were being caused due to his workaholic nature was alarming, especially considering neither of you had ever even raised your voices to one another prior to this.
your heart was getting heavier and heavier.
not because you doubted his love for you - that wasn’t even a question in your mind, that much was certain. if anything, jungkook loved you too much, entirely and wholly, with every single decision made in his life somehow tracing back to you in one way or another. whether it was purchasing things, buying them with the intent of impressing you, making you happy or smile. every opportunity, every signed contract, every bastard fucking meeting that he could feel so deeply in his bones was done with the intention of giving you a life so soft you would never experience hardship again.
that was where the problem lay.
jungkook didn’t know how to love in a way that could nurture your relationship through this, and so, he did the only thing he could. he sacrificed.
slowly, painfully, the realisation that somewhere between the neglect, the late nights and unanswered phone calls, your husband had stopped being your husband at all. he had become a mere ghost in your shared home.
the night you had made your decision was one that felt imprinted in your memory.
it was past midnight, the harsh light of your phone reminding you with each passing moment. the rain was harsh too, with it being the middle of autumn, causing you to curl deeper into the covers on your bed but it did nothing to chase the cold away. dinner had long gone cold downstairs, with your housekeeper giving you a long, sad look before leaving to her own home, patting you on the shoulder in comfort.
your heart hurt so fucking much.
your phone was untouched, with messages sent hours prior despite the lack of response.
‘where are you?’
‘are you coming home tonight?’
‘jungkook, you promised.’
‘i miss you.’
you felt pathetic. humiliation ran up and down your veins at the thought of having to beg for a morsel of attention from your husband, but what else were you supposed to do? what else could you do? loneliness had a tendency to do that to people.
the sound of the front door finally opening had your eyes looking up, no longer staring into space, thinking. overthinking.
jungkook finally stumbled in, hours and hours late, shoulders tense and black coat half wet due to the rain outside. his phone had died hours ago, and his brain was a jumble of numbers and stakeholders, still muttering under his breath over something one of his colleagues had said. he was exhaustion personified.
“baby.” he exhaled deeply upon the sight of you still up.
1:47am.
you stared at him, unable to focus on anything in particular as your reddened eyes somehow glinted in the moonlit essence of the room. his heart ached.
“you missed it again.” you whispered, barely audible.
another dinner sat cold. jungkook had noticed it on his way up, muttering a small fuck under his breath, but seeing you now? something had changed, something was different and the sight scared him to death.
“i know, i..”
“you said you’d be home for six.”
“i know baby, i’m so sorry, we had an emergency shareholders meeting and it was just..fuck.”
“it’s always an emergency.” you muttered bitterly.
the silence that followed felt suffocating to you both.
he carefully placed his things at the door before approaching you slowly, as though you were a wounded fawn struck by an arrow from his own back - it was his fault. he knew that, he could see it.
“i’m trying.” he whispered softly, as he crouched to meet your eyes.
that was the worst thing of all - of course he was trying. you knew he was, you could see it in every single thing he did but that was the part that made it so much more painful. it was unbearable.
tears burned harshly behind your eyes, lip openly trembling as you stared at the only man to have ever felt your affection, the love of your life. the same man that would set himself on fire just to keep you warm, who had done this all for you - even you knew that but, the pain. you weren’t sure when loving him had started to hurt this badly.
“i don’t need..i don’t want any of this, jungkook.” you corrected as your voice cracked, hands gesturing to the too large room. “don’t care about penthouses or cars, or money..”
“it’s not about that.”
“then what is it about?” you cried, months and months of neglect finally collapsing all at once. “because i’m losing you anyway.”
the devastation that appeared on his face would have floored you on any other occasion, but the horrible feeling that had taken over was consuming you from the inside out. you couldn’t rid yourself of your thoughts, the looming decision that had grown and grown and grown, so much so that it felt bigger than you in both mind and body. you couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to.
“i feel so lonely.” you admitted honestly, a broken sob leaving your lips. “you’re all i have..all i’ve ever had and i feel lonely.”
the words physically wounded him as he felt his own tears begin to form, a horrible realisation fluttering through his body - this wasn’t fixable. he could see it now, the utter pain in your eyes, the way your body shook as you cried, and though he was crouched in front of you, arms wrapping around you; it wasn’t enough.
“i’ll fix this. i’ll fix this, fuck. y/n..” he shook, holding you so tightly, his heart beating out of his chest. “give me time. give me a chance. give me something, give me anything.”
you only cried harder at his words, collapsing entirely as the sobs racked through your body violently. you knew he meant it, knew he meant every single word, and you genuinely believed it too but you were tired.
so, so tired.
you knew that the love between you, no matter how deep, could not survive on patched up apologies and promises no longer.
the separation happened three weeks later.
perhaps that was too cruel of you - you should have given him more time, more chances, another opportunity to prove himself to you so he could actually begin repairing something that had already long collapsed before he had ever realised the damage. staying felt too painful, as though you were prodding delicate skin with a million sharpened blades. for once in your entire existence, you chose yourself.
you hated yourself for it.
you could no longer survive off of the memories of who your husband had once been, the once sweet teenage boy who slept on the streets with you just so you’d feel safe from the grasps of your parents. the man who had ran home to tell you about his promotion, who then sobbed in your arms at the mere prospect of getting to give you the life you deserved. oh, how each and every fibre of your being yearned for him, how it knew him by breath alone and yet it wasn’t enough. nothing could possibly hurt more.
packing your things nearly killed him. you remembered it vividly.
jungkook stood silently in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching numbly, as though his soul had left his entire body as you packed up remnants of a life once shared with him. cardboard boxes were filled with your books, your makeup, your silly trinkets you had acquired together - the sight of you crying as you packed your wedding album so delicately was enough to have him bite back his own sob, shaking his head at the reality of the situation.
he hadn’t stopped you. it was the worst part.
jungkook was intimidating to most; hardened by his life experiences and the struggle he had been raised in, his only priority for the past decade being you. you didn’t like to go into his work, knowing he was quite literally a different person there - efficient, yes, but also ruthless. and yet, he stood, watching you as though his eyes couldn’t comprehend the scene in front of him, tears wiped harshly from his face in fear that it would only upset you more.
even in moments like this, he put you first.
his hands sat caged on either side of him, as you sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. he wanted nothing more than to pick you up, cradle you, cherish you the way he so desperately wanted but in his love for you came your happiness. he was a man devoted to you, and he couldn’t cage you somewhere you no longer felt happy staying - he loved you too much to ever do that.
the divorce proceedings were somehow so much worse.
the media frenzy surrounding jeon jungkook, the elusive ceo who was known for his mysterious persona and dark eyes, was quite literally unbearable. the sudden separation exploded all over the tabloids and the internet, with headlines appearing faster than either of you could keep up with. the hate was too much, to which jungkook stepped in to silence everyone behind the scenes, throwing an insane amount of money at journalists to keep your name out of their filthy mouths. wife or not, you were one half of him and he’d be damned if you were spoken of in anyway that wasn’t praiseworthy.
you couldn’t even look at him during the hearings.
god, you tried. you wanted to, managing to sneak little glances where you caught him already staring at you, despair all over his face, but you couldn’t handle it, tears streaming out of your eyes almost immediately. he knew you loved him. he could see it, clear as day.
he looked sick, as though he hadn’t eaten for weeks, the mere sight of you enough to sustain him until the next meeting, where your feet lightly brushed against one another underneath the table in a subconscious way.
he barely spoke, only choosing to actually speak when he was asked a question, but other than that, he spent his time in the meetings staring at you longingly. he’d whisper a soft “don’t cry” whenever he’d see you tear up, your lip quivering each time you snuck a glance over, despite knowing it was breaking you.
he signed everything over to you immediately. his lawyers had practically choked, eyes wide as he silenced them almost harshly for even suggesting anything otherwise, your own eyebrows pulling together as you tried to reject. you didn’t want his money, you didn’t want what he had worked so hard for.
the penthouse, the cars, the accounts. every. fucking. thing.
“jungkook..” you had whispered through tears at the table, addressing him for the first time in so long. “i don’t want any of this, it’s yours. you’ve worked so hard.”
hearing you was enough to provide the energy he had been lacking, the very blood in his bloodstream pumping harder as he shook his head at you, offended.
“i got those things for you. it never belonged to me..was always yours.” he whispered back, causing you to look down with another choked sob.
it was the final hearing that truly cemented the empty hole inside of you.
your hands shook violently, so much so that you were unable to pick up your pen and sign away your marriage, the one thing you needed to do to finally let him go. everyone in the room frowned as they watched you, face flooded with tears as your digits simply refused, as though your body rejected the notion as being entirely unnatural. they all felt pity for you, for both of you - you both were clearly in love, and they couldn’t understand the gravity of the situation between you.
jungkook had stood from his side of the table, walking over to you until his hand had softly encapsulated your own, your quiet sobs only growing harsher at the feel of the one person you had been craving for so long. he held it, guiding you to your own, helping you write your name on the dotted line despite every part of his body aching.
ex-husband.
the thought should have killed you.
once it was signed, he held onto your hand, too scared to let go as the documents were taken, your lawyers and his slowly leaving the room, leaving you be. you should have let go, should have pushed him away as he no longer had any tie to you - you weren’t married, you weren’t together. alas, the thought felt sacrilegious.
instead, he knelt, knees hitting the hardened floor below you as your red eyes met his properly. entirely.
“i’ll fix this.” he promised you, voice no longer shaking, as you could hear the depth of his promise to you. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby, but you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you better, i’ll be worthy. i promise you, y/n.” he whispered.
another sob climbed up your throat, mean and harsh, as your body collapsed against the chair you were sat in, your emotion taking a complete hold over you.
because even then, after everything, you knew his words to be true. you knew home would be waiting.
—
eight months had passed now, and soon came the first touch of summer. the bleak sky had become brighter, clouds hibernating and birds chirping as the world became warmer, accommodating for the transition into what most would describe as a joyous time. unfortunately for you, your body was still recovering from what could only be described as the most traumatic stage of your life thus far.
everything felt unnatural and wrong - you were trying to keep up despite it moving a million miles around you.
even after all this time, your stomach still dropped whenever you’d see anything that referred to him as your ex husband, as though your mind and heart needed a moment to catch up. how could jungkook ever simply become an ex anything to you?
he had existed in your life for so long that removing him felt akin to ripping a vital organ out of your body, all whilst expected to function entirely normally. how could you? you suppose you were failing, really, with the way you moved through life out of necessity instead of want.
the tabloids loved him now more than ever. it was the paradox of tragedy, you assumed, as you knew how badly the world yearned for a broken hearted lover.
the youngest ceo in the country’s history, a billionaire bachelor - the elusive businessman was on the top of every social hierarchy, whilst people spoke about you in hushed whispers. the only woman to have ever gotten away. who were you? why did you leave? why did he leave you with so much?
he had become so much colder after the divorce, and people picked up on it like rats with forgotten food.
the media had always labelled him as an intimidating man, but now, there was no way of denying it. there was something unsettling about the pictures that were being papped of him, your hungry eyes taking him in top to bottom, nibbling your lip - he looked so different. broad shoulders remained the same, but he seemed bigger, no doubt taking out his pain in the gym. it was the look in his eyes, however, that had your stomach in knots.
he looked dead whilst alive.
jeon jungkook was heartbroken, and the world knew it clear as day.
he had dealt with it the only way he knew how - by burying himself six feet deep into his work, knowing he had nothing to come home to, often times sleeping in his office just so he could ignore the silence of his house.
meanwhile, you had spent the last eight months trying to learn how to exist without him.
the humiliation at first was all you were reminded of, as you realised how deeply you had intertwined into him and vice versa. the silence in your once shared penthouse was so unbearable that you had moved into a tiny two bedroom apartment, using the spare as a storage unit for all of your books. on your nightstand still sat a picture of you both, as you secretly cried over it most nights. you couldn’t even sleep unless you wore one of his hoodies, despite his scent having washed off months ago - it was the comfort of knowing you still had a part of your marriage with you.
you missed him in every small, stupid, awful way imaginable.
the feeling of his hand, heavy and strong, on your thigh as he drove you around. the way he would cage you into any surface he could find just to smother you in kisses, or even the way he would whisper into your ear stupid jokes that had you giggling too loudly for the world to hear.
you missed your husband. you missed jungkook.
everyday you battled with the regret of your choice, especially once you’d see the way his under-eyes had sunken with the lack of sleep and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. you couldn’t live that way again, not with the neglect - not with your past trauma from your parents.
jungkook knew the gravity of his actions, knew you needed to heal and reason with them before he could come back to you but fuck, it hurt so bad to wait.
sometimes, during your weaker moments, you found yourself searching him into your phone in the dead of night, breathing out an audible sigh of relief at the confirmation he was still openly single. it was pathetic, that much you knew, but it was selfish beyond anything else. so cruel to want the man you left to be alone, simply because he still belonged to you.
you had attempted to rebuild your life slowly, carefully piecing together fragments of yourself that existed before all of this had happened. your days were quieter now, so much lonelier but it was enough to keep your mind from spiralling every second of every waking day.
some habits, however, refused to die.
his contact remained as the only favourited number in your phone, as you spent all of your time rereading old messages, despite it ending in tears. if only you knew he too did the same, with his photo album on his phone his most used app as he stared at you nightly, often falling asleep with your picture shining brightly on his screen.
you still loved him. he loved you even more.
that could never change.
-
the first flowers came on a random tuesday.
you had just experienced one of the worst days you’d had in a while, with a final meeting with one of your clients going to shit after you realised hours of work and designs had somehow corrupted, and then deleted. by the time you had returned home, you were sure the world had seen your teary state, your body heavier than usual.
as you searched your bag for your keys, your eyes peered up, noticing them.
your breath caught.
sitting neatly outside your apartment door. a bouquet, large but elegant - white gardenias. the flowers you had held at not only your wedding, but the ones jungkook would buy you for your anniversary each year.
your flowers.
your chest ached so violently you found yourself gasping for air as your legs gave out below you. you slid down the wall, fingers brushing against the delicate petals as you looked for a note, only to realise there wasn’t one. you didn’t need to see who they were from, only one person knew you well enough and your heart felt like it had been split into two as you took them in.
it wasn’t your anniversary, wasn’t any special kind of occasion, and yet here they were. bright, promising, sweet.
your vision blurred with heavy tears as the painful feeling in your body grew, throat tightening with emotion before reaching out and taking a hold of them, breathing the flowers in openly.
the scent alone was enough to destroy you.
he was everywhere, all of the time - even now. especially now.
the flowers had become a norm, a pattern that was only recognisable to you, and completely deniable to any other person looking in. you were smarter than you looked and you knew what was happening, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to call it out.
your favourite restaurant somehow managing to accommodate you always despite the line or packed out reservations list, or the paparazzi that often bullied you for your attention outside of your home mysteriously disappearing. even your car, that you had dented slightly, appeared in perfect condition as you walked down to go to work one morning, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
your chest bloomed with realisation.
jungkook.
he never appeared himself, no. never. it was unsettling really, the reminder that he was powerful and could have things done with a flick of his wrist - he was sure to never make you privy to it, so you’d always feel like he was the same boy you had met all those years ago. now? he had every intention of showing you the empire he had built for you and you alone. he lingered around you and your life like a floating ghost, invisible but permanent. you truly couldn’t get rid of him even if you tried.
three weeks later is when you felt yourself reaching breaking point.
for the first time in months, you were finally leaving the house to actually do something for fun. your best friend, yejin, who’s husband yoongi was ironically jungkook’s best friend, had forced you to come out for a drink. nothing intense, merely a nice bar where the drinks were smooth and the company was good, with slow jazz playing in the back.
exhaustion was heavy in your bones but you listened, doing your best to make yourself look nice despite how dead you felt inside. a little skirt that felt too short and a top that perhaps plunged too low - yejin had deemed you utterly perfect.
sat at the bar, you sipped your drink, wincing lightly as she yapped away about something her coworker had said. you appreciated how she refused to bring jungkook up, knowing that she couldn’t breach the topic unless you were the one to bring it up yourself. you hated how badly you wanted to, how desperate you were to find out how he was doing.
she filled the air constantly, like she was terrified of what would happen if your mind caught up to the reality of the situation, instead filling it with nonsense to occupy your demanding thoughts.
you let her.
you even found yourself laughing, the feeling and sound so startling that it reduced you to silence for a full minute afterwards as you welcomed the feeling of actual joy for the first time in so long.
you almost didn’t notice the shift in your phone, the slight light radiating from beneath as you had turned it onto its screen earlier in the evening. she, however, paused mid sentence, eyes dropping down to let you know someone was ringing.
nothing could have prepared you for the sight of his name on the screen.
the name, ‘kookie’ with a large, red heart adorned your phone as humiliation rummaged through you at the realisation you had never even bothered to change his name, the concept too painful to come to terms with. however, yejin all but gasped as she turned to you, eyes widened with an almost excitement.
“answer it.” she encouraged, hand on your back. “i’ll watch your drink.”
you weren’t sure what to say, as you nodded, staring down at the screen before shakily sliding off of your seat and heading towards the back entrance, where a smokers area sat empty. your hands shook as you cupped the phone to your chest, taking a seat before looking down at it once more.
he was calling you.
jungkook was fucking calling you.
before you could overthink, you swiped, answering it.
the phone felt hot against your ear, a reminder of what was currently happening as your heart began beating harder than it had in months, your hands shaking. for a second, neither of you spoke.
you could hear faint movement on his end, a shuffling of some sorts before he completely stilled, as though he had pushed everything he was doing to a side at the realisation you had actually answered.
“hi.”
god. your eyes squeezed shut tight almost immediately.
there he was - your jungkook. not the ceo extraordinaire that was plastered on every publication you could find, with dead eyes and a sharp expression. no, this was him. jungkook. your jungkook.
the sound alone nearly brought you to tears. you felt so pathetic.
“hi.” you whispered back, voice cracking.
silence settled again, but not awkwardly. you didn’t think an awkward silence was capable of existing between you, not when your bodies were so intertwined and so aware of one another. the distance between you was unnatural, neither of your minds able to comprehend an eight month hiatus enough to understand that this phone call alone shouldn’t have been happening.
he exhaled slowly, and your shoulders gently relaxed, your eyes closing momentarily as you imagined him. no doubt still at work, in a suit unbuttoned at the shirt, his tie long forgotten. his tattooed hand running through his hair, ruffling it the way you always would.
“you answered.” he broke you out of your thoughts.
your chest tightened painfully at the sheer disbelief in his tone.
“you called.”
a faint huff of amusement left him then, causing you to blink back any emotion that was building in your eyes. it eased you.
“yeah.” he breathed out.
another pause.
you felt so suddenly aware of yourself - your hand reached out to smooth down your hair, adjust your top and skirt, despite knowing he couldn’t see you. it was subconscious, as though the thought of him alone was enough to undo you, but his voice? hearing it after so long, directed at you, for you. yours. it was enough to have you soothed for months.
before you could spiral in your thoughts, he spoke again.
“where are you?”
“out with yejin.”
“mm.” you shivered at his hum. you had no idea he was so undone at the sound of you too. “a bar?”
“yeah.”
“you drinking?”
you rolled your eyes, tongue poking your cheek at his curiosity. some things truly had never changed.
“why?” you asked, and you could almost hear his grin on the other end. “can’t i ask?”
his tone, smooth. familiar. fuck, it did things to you, and you could feel your thighs pressing together just listening to him. secretly, your favourite part of jungkook was how possessive he had always been, and even in moments like this where he hid it under a layer of calmness, you could recognise it instantly.
it reminded you of when he’d ask you whether you had eaten, just before pulling you into his lap, lips attacking the side of your neck hungrily or when he’d tell you to take your medicine, with a slow ‘baby’ and kisses planted to your forehead and cheeks.
“one drink.” you revealed, with a nibble to your lip.
you had no idea that he too was a fucking mess.
jungkook was indeed in his office, with his legs spread, suit jacket and tie somewhere, his shirt unbuttoned a little as he too drank. a cup of whiskey in his hand, his hair a mess as he scoured over your instagram for the millionth time just that day. neither of you were ones to post much, especially considering your accounts were private with only a few people, but he stalked you daily in hopes of a glimpse of you. could you blame him? he was utterly, devotedly in love with you.
a measly divorce couldn’t stop that.
seeing yejin’s story, with your low cut top, and your big eyes showing a sign of life for the first time in months made his heart bloom. it had his cock straining, again, just looking at you, eyes hungrily looking over every inch of you and your soft smile. god, how he had missed it.
he had given you your time. respected your wishes, allowed you eight months of this but enough was enough. the flowers were just the beginning, marking his space back in your life through a promise he had every intention of upholding. he had told you directly he was going to fix this, and you, his sweet, sweet girl had believed him.
he would never let you down again.
“you having fun?”
“why do you wanna know every single detail?” you asked, tone a little harsher than intended but you couldn’t help yourself. this was an ambush on your senses.
he huffed once more, the amusement enough to disarm you.
“because i miss you.”
the words left him so easily that the breath in your lungs completely dissipated, leaving you a statued mess. no hesitation, no shame - pure, devastating honesty.
“you can’t say that, jungkook.” you weakly combatted, the intake of breath on his side of the phone at the sound of his name leaving your mouth enough of an answer for you.
“why not? i can’t miss my wife?” he scoffed lightly at you.
you blubbered for a moment. “i-i am not..i’m not your wife!”
“okay.” he hummed once more.
there was a quiet clink on his end, no doubt picking his drink up and taking a big gulp after abandoning it the second you answered. neither of you spoke for a few more moments, silence now becoming a running theme between you on the call, and yet it was still void of the awkwardness you’d find anywhere else. it was awful how familiar it felt. how comfortable and safe.
your fingers played with the hem of your skirt nervously, unsure if you had been too brash - he was hurting too after all.
“is that top new?”
your breath caught.
“..what?”
jungkook stayed quiet for an extra beat. “your top. haven’t seen that one before.”
heat flooded your cheeks, chest and neck before you could even respond, your lips bitten down as you inhaled shakily.
“how do you know that?” you were ignoring the way your pulse was hammering against your body, trying to feign an air of nonchalance.
at that, he couldn’t help the small grin. “saw you on yejin’s story.” he murmured, quieter now. “look so good. love when you wear pink, baby.”
it wasn’t even the words he had chosen, but more so the way he was saying them. so calm, so certain, so casual as if he wasn’t calling his ex wife baby over a bit of cleavage that was never really meant for his eyes - your blush spreading all over you now.
“jungkook..” you breathed out, shakily.
“what?” he asked innocently, and you could really hear the smile in his voice now. “am i wrong?”
you looked down at your top, nibbling away at your lip to hide the small smile that was beginning to form on your own face, something that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. your fingers brushed against your stomach, feeling the fabric before tucking a strand behind your hair.
“it’s new.” you admitted softly, heels shuffling slightly on the ground.
the sound he made in response was enough to ruin you. not a laugh, not quite a sigh - something pleased.
he hummed. “so pretty.”
your eyes squeezed shut, and jungkook could feel it. could see it as though you were right in front of him. you were never one to handle a compliment, always going pink and shyly looking away and god, he loved it so much. loved complimenting you in hopes that you would react just like that, just to see you get all flustered.
the feeling in your stomach..it felt so strange. the same one that had haunted you for the past eight months, an unbearable warmth that filled you from your toes to your head, something you craved so desperately from him and him alone. to be noticed, looked at, admired by jungkook was one thing but to be loved by him? it was joy in itself.
you could feel it.
no one had ever loved you quite like he had done, as though every single thing you were capable of was worthy of applause. it terrified you.
“you can’t do this.” your voice came out so much smaller than either of you had expected, changing the entire feel of the call instantly.
as a result, his own tone softened, as though he was dealing with something porcelain.
“do what, baby?”
your heart physically ached.
“talk to me..like nothing happened.”
you felt sick to your stomach, hands gripping your phone and stomach as your eyes shut tight. you wished you hadn’t of said anything, not with the way the silence kissed the air in a way that felt anything but familiar - it hurt. painful in every single way.
for the first time since answering the phone, you could see jungkook properly. could hear him breathing sharply as though your words were both a reminder and an understanding that no matter what, things could never go back to what they once were.
the slight twitch in his cheek, the way his fingers would naturally tighten whenever he was overwhelmed with emotion like he didn’t know where to put it, where to place it in his overworking mind. he had always loved so deeply, your jungkook; just didn’t know where to put it, or how to show it.
when he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. stripped bare for you, so you could feel him.
“i know what i did.” he admitted softly. “i know i fucked up, and that i failed you as a husband.”
your throat tightened.
outside, rainwater still lingered from earlier, a sickly humidity wrapped into every air particle around you. the scent of lingering cigarette smoke was heavy enough to ground you in that moment as you listened to jungkook speak words neither of you could truly handle hearing, despite how necessary they were. it just hurt so, so badly.
inside the bar, you could hear muffled laughter, people egging one another on for drinks as jazz boomed, your heart easing as you could hear yejin’s voice amongst the crowd, no doubt the life of the party there too.
“then why are you acting like this?” you pathetically asked, lip jutting out in a teary pout. he could almost hear it on you. “you’re talking to me like we’re still together.”
“you’re still mine, y/n.”
your breath hitched violently.
“jungkook-“
“no,” he remained calm, a stark difference between you and him. “you asked me a question, baby, so let me answer it properly.”
the nickname rolled off of his lips so naturally, instinctively, and you hated how easily your body curled closer, almost desperate to hear it whilst he stood in front of you. you had always been putty in his hands, so easily undone with a few pretty words but you’d held back for the past few months for the sake of your boundaries. hearing him so open, so honest - it was fucking you up all over again.
“i know we’re divorced,” he continued before you could interrupt him again. “i know..you’re not my wife anymore, and i know this is my fault. you left because of me and i’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”
his voice cracked by the end of his statement.
“but i won’t sit here and pretend like the last eight months have suddenly erased the past fifteen years of loving you.”
the words shattered you. your delicate, pathetic heart broke once more at his words at the confirmation of what you needed to hear so, so badly.
years of abandonment issues stemming from your parents and friends who had only ever toyed with you meant you had put your all into jungkook, who had only ever put every inch of himself back in - you were a partnership, a welcome duo that made sense to the both of you. watching him pull back, forget you, neglect and abandon your relationship no matter the reason was enough to trigger you in ways that no one could reason with.
it was an intimate form of violence that though was never intended, hurt more than anything he could have ever done to you.
he knew that. he was openly telling you he recognised his faults, his wrong doings - you knew that too. god, you knew him better than anyone alive, and you knew that by leaving him it was the only way for him to understand and see.
“you’re making this so much harder, jungkook.” you whispered out through a flood of tears, your mascara and eyeliner smudging immediately under the slaughter of liquid.
“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry baby but i need you to hear me, okay? just..i need you to know i’m going to fix this. properly.” he breathed out, desperate now. “i’ve been doing things right this time..gave you space, let you breathe, been working on myself and going to therapy. don’t sleep at the office anymore, did at the start cause i didn’t like coming home but i’m better now.”
therapy?
you knew he held so much trauma with his own parents, his own upbringing, too scared to ever even speak about it if it wasn’t with you but to hear he had actually taken the steps to go forwards with something that put him directly out of his comfort zone was insanity to you. especially when his one and only concern had only ever been your own comfort, even at his expense.
his honesty made you burst out into quiet sobs - a noise he swore was harsh enough to kill him. he breathed out, cooing at you lightly as he shook his head despite you unable to see him, so pained.
jungkook recognised your pain immediately.
“yeah,” he muttered. “turns out working yourself to death because you’re afraid of losing everything after you’ve had a shitty upbringing actually isn’t normal behaviour. who knew?”
despite your heartbroken state, you let out a sincere watery laugh.
the sound hit him like a drug.
he went completely silent after hearing it, replaying it in the forefront of his mind. a greedy, gluttonous side of him climbing out of his very throat as he held it close to his soul, cherishing it - he was a starved man finally being fed.
“there she is.” he breathed. “fuck..missed hearing your laugh.”
you hated how easily you were able to slip back into him.
“jungkook..”
“i mean it,” his tone deepened slightly - more certain, more intentional. “i’m not calling you tonight to confuse you, y/n. i’m not calling because i’m lonely..”
your fingers tightened around the phone once more. “then, why?”
“because i’m getting you back.”
there was no hesitation in his voice, no wariness nor anything other than sheer determination. he sounded firm and a part of that thrilled you, whilst the other half sat scared of what this meant - you couldn’t survive this again, losing him. what if you had changed? what if you weren’t who he thought you were anymore?
“hey, stop it.” he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “it’s just me, y/n. it’s just me and you, okay?”
“but what if we can’t do it?” you asked through a teary sob, scuffing your heels on the hard ground. “what if i’m different and what if it’s too hard? i can’t..i won’t survive it..”
silence once more.
“then, we do it slowly.” he whispered, assured, soothing you. no hesitation whatsoever. “i’m not asking you to trust me overnight, baby. i know i fucked that up already.”
your lip trembled, tears streaming so fast you could hardly keep up.
“but i’m here now.”
the words settled so deeply inside of you that it almost hurt. that was all you had wanted all along, was it not? a present husband, the same man that loved you without the frills of money and presents - you wanted jungkook. your jungkook.
you swallowed thickly, knowing it had taken so much of him to even say this to you, so confident as he knew you needed a rock at this moment despite also being emotionally devastated.
two whole minutes of silence stretched between you as you caught your breath, your tears still streaming but your sobs subsiding, allowing for sweet hiccups that he thought were the cutest thing he had ever heard. his mind swam, aching, knowing how needy you were after a cry. he wanted to bundle you up and hold you, kiss you until there were no more thoughts left in that pretty little head of yours, right until you were finally asleep and safe in his arms.
“are you still at work?” you asked softly, breaking the silence and pulling him out of his thoughts.
a small pause.
then, almost amused - “technically..”
“jungkook! it’s late..”
he laughed quietly under his breath, the sound warm enough to blanket you in it.
“finished hours ago, i’ve just been sat here.”
“doing what?”
another pause. slightly charged.
“looking at you.” he murmured.
heat rushed to your face immediately, wiping your under eyes. “what?”
“been stalking your instagram. yejin posted you like half an hour ago too, so..” his voice dropped lower, smoother. more intimate. “haven’t really thought about doing anything since.”
your thighs pushed together involuntarily at the confession, cheeks hinted even darker.
god.
“jungkook.” you chastised with a little sniffle.
“pink was a bad choice, baby.” he grunted slightly. “you know that colour drives me fucking insane on you.”
your eyes squeezed shut. there he was.
not the cold, mysterious ceo that had the world intrigued, nor the tall, hefty man that had most people cowering away as he walked past. no, this was your husband - flirty, affectionate and completely and utterly obsessed with you.
“you’re so ridiculous.” you shook your head through a hiccup, biting back the pathetic small smile that was about to form.
“yeah?” he hummed through a small laugh. “still answered the phone.”
the smile in his voice only had yours growing larger, a small laugh muffled by the back of your hand.
you could hear him moving around now, keys jingling lightly before the sound of a car door opening had your ears peaking up.
“wait,” your eyebrows raised. “are you leaving?”
“mhm.”
“where are you going?”
jungkook grinned. it was your turn to be curious.
“home.”
your smile dropped slightly. home.. that used to be a word that was synonymous with you. your chest ached all over again.
“couldn’t go back there without hearing your voice first.” he admitted quietly.
silence swallowed you whole. the vulnerability in his voice felt far more dangerous than any of the tears you had shed tonight, your fingers continuing to shake around the phone at the mere sound of it. before you could think of a response, he spoke again.
“there’s a gala next friday.”
your stomach tightened as you leaned your head against the wall, already understanding the direction of the conversation.
“jungkook..”
“come with me.”
no hesitation. no uncertainty.
firm, assured, confident. like there had never even been another concept, or thought in his brain - you were the first and only option.
“i don’t think that’s a good idea..”
“probably not.”
the honesty startled a laugh out of you - a real one. on the other side of the phone, jungkook sat in his car, eyes closed, breathing deeply at the sweet sound like he was memorising it. treasuring it so he could replay it over and over and over later when he laid in your once shared bed alone.
“fuck,” he breathed. “you have no idea how much i’ve missed that.”
your eyes burned once more.
“baby,” his tone gentled again, using the pet name you loved so much. “just one night. me and you.”
you wanted to scream, wanted to pull at your hair and jump all at the same time. of course you wanted to say yes, what more could you need? your ex husband so openly telling you he wanted to pursue you with every inch of his body, until he was nothing but yours to mould and shape.
“i’ll think about it.” you replied instead, nibbling away at your lip.
the grin in his voice was immediate.
“that’s my girl.”
—
you couldn’t breathe.
both physically and emotionally, you found difficulty in inhaling air as you looked at yourself in the mirror, yejin somewhere in the room finding accessories for you to wear all whilst you blinked rapidly.
the dress, although beautiful, felt too tight.
your hands shook on either side of you as she approached you, holding up a delicate diamond necklace you recognised as an anniversary gift jungkook had gotten you but never quite found the chance to wear. your eyes were unfocused as she clasped it onto your neck, watching the way it fell so softly against soft skin, as though it had been curated for you and you alone.
“you need to breathe, y/n.” she suddenly murmured behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder as you both stared at you in the mirror.
pale pink satin - not bright in anyway, but a sweet kiss of your favourite colour adorned your body in floor length, tight fitting dress. you were the embodiment of elegance as the fabric draped over your curves, all whilst cinching perfectly at your waist, allowing for a pretty silhouette. not only did you look the part for a charity gala, you had exceeded any expectation anyone would ever have for you thanks to your best friend’s styling.
“dress is tight.” you simply whispered back, hardly recognising yourself.
your makeup matched your dress. glowy and pink with soft blush dusted onto your cheeks, glossy lips puckered and sweet. your hair fell in waves and for the first time in a very long time, you felt utterly beautiful.
the problem, however, was in the circumstance itself.
you were about to see jungkook for the first time since you had officially walked away from your marriage and the thought had kept you up all week. you weren’t sure what you were thinking actually saying yes to his invitation, calling him to tell you would come only for him to audibly huff out of joy. he was like a child in a candy shop but you couldn’t help but wonder if he harboured the same anxiety.
it was heavy in your stomach as you stared at yourself. pink was your favourite colour, and he loved it on you. did you look pretty enough? all eyes would be on you both tonight, given the nature of your relationship and the almost celebrity like status that had been awarded to the two of you.
all in all, it was his face that had you nibbling your bottom lip in thought. there wasn’t a night where you left his name unsearched in your internet browser, desperate to see what he looked like in that current moment but seeing him in purpose was a whole different playing field.
you loved him in suits - a fitting joy that was awarded to you constantly given his occupation. the way his shoulders would fill out the material so nicely, the way his shirt would stretch over his chest and the way darker colours only brought out the darkness in his eyes - it was your personal kryptonite. you weren’t sure how you were supposed to think, behave even, once you caught got sight of him.
“hey, y/n, look at me.” yejin pulled you out of your thoughts, soft hands pulling at your jaw. “it’s just jungkook. you know him better than anyone, okay? you’re all good.”
you nodded, though you continued to blink at her rapidly. “s’just been so long and..i don’t know..i’m scared. is that weird?”
she offered a sad smile. “it’s been eight months of healing, babe. that love doesn’t just go away and from what you told me, this is a step in the right direction. just gotta let him in.”
before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell blared through the apartment, making you look up to where the door sat on the other side. if you thought your heart had been beating fast before, you were sure you were on the edge of passing out now as yejin mumbled a quick ‘that’ll be him’ beside you.
oh god. oh god. oh god.
the dress felt too tight around your ribs.
your hands smoothed down the satin again despite having done it what felt like a million times already, fingers tips trembling over expensive fabric as your breathing came out shallow. you hated this - hated the fear of it all when it was jungkook on the other side of the door. your jungkook.
eight months. eight whole months and your body still knew him better than your mind was ready to let on.
“y/n.” yejin practically cooed at you, assuring you with a hand on your back. “breathe.”
you nodded quickly, though it went in one ear and out the other.
the intercom buzzed again, impatient time.
ironically, it was this that had your shoulders slumping softly, your shortness of breath slowly soothing as you realised the familiarity of the situation. of course jungkook would buzz twice - it was a telltale sign of his own anxiety, something you could recognise from a mile away. knocking twice, calling your name twice, checking the front door before bed twice.
it was just jungkook.
“okay.” you whispered to yourself.
you turned, more determined now you knew he was in the same state as you, as your heels clicked on the floor of your much smaller apartment, the noise loud enough for him to hear from the outside. each step felt heavier the closer you got, but there sat an anticipation in you that had you almost desperate to see him.
your hand finally wrapped around the handle before you opened the door.
and there he was.
god.
for a moment, your brain completely malfunctioned.
jungkook stood in your hallway beneath the almost dingy apartment lighting, one hand wrapped around a large bouquet of flowers you recognised to be the ones he had been gifting you with continuously for the past few weeks, and every anniversary. white gardenias.
your eyes fell onto them immediately with a strangled gasp, all whilst taking him in, your heart beating out of your chest as you felt almost faint at the sight of him.
a black suit.
the material stretched perfectly across his too broad shoulders and narrow waist, expensive to the eye as you could tell it had been tailored to fit him exactly. the contrast between the white shirt underneath was utterly delicious, and memories of pulling open buttons under heated exchanges flooded your eyes.
his hair was styled almost messily which you immediately recognised as his hands having ran through them, no doubt due to his anxiety - you wanted to pull at his locks, wanted to feel them against your fingers.
it was his face, however, that hurt to look at.
he looked healthier than most of the pictures you had seen over the span of the past few months, with warm in his cheeks, a slight dazed look in his eyes. still tired, with purple underneath his eyes indicating his lack of sleep, still carrying traces of heartbreak you knew you had placed there.
god.
jungkook looked every bit of the man you were in love with.
and here he stood, staring at you like he had just seen heaven open up right in front of him.
neither of you could look away from one another, as his eyes dragged over you slowly, inch by inch. your hair, your neckline that dipped lower than he was used to seeing, your manicure, your beautiful face. jungkook couldn’t fathom that you had once belonged to him, the pain of the past eight months surfacing as it gripped him by the throat like a vice - he had lost you?
you watched his throat bob.
his eyes met yours, the first time in what felt like a lifetime, and neither of you really knew what to do. how was it that the man you had known most of your life, the one constant, felt like a stranger in that moment? it was like you were discovering him again, an opportunity to relearn him presented to you and you took it with both hands.
he let out a shaking breath, one that had your cheeks flushing as he extended his arm, presenting the large bouquet for you.
“you look beautiful.” he whispered, voice struggling almost as you continued to watch his adam’s apple almost entranced.
with a shy thank you, you held them close to your chest, breathing in the familiar scent that brought you so much comfort.
your chest had eased now you were finally looking at him, now that he was actually in your space - the worst was over. you almost felt ridiculous for being worried about seeing him when it was just jungkook. eight months couldn’t erase that familiarity.
the hallway suddenly felt too small. too warm, too intimate; you felt like you were being caved in by his mere presence and for a moment you wondered if you needed breath at all.
you simply stood there, clutching the flowers delicately to your chest as though they meant something so much more than what anyone else could assume all whilst jungkook looked at you like you were the first beautiful thing he had seen in months.
his eyes couldn’t leave your face.
it should have made you uncomfortable, the intensity of his stare, but your body reacted the way it had always done when you were near him. you were inching closer without even realising it, him doing the same until you were looking up, head angled and his downwards, head bent to admire you properly.
“hi.” you whispered again.
the size difference between you had never been more apparent until then, what with all of his strenuous visits to the gym these past few months. he had always towered over you, but it was different now - his already wide chest and broad shoulders engulfed you, his biceps on either side of him enough to have you wanting him in a way that certainly was not becoming of an ex wife.
it’s like he could read your thoughts, with the way he inched closer to you, until your bodies were openly brushing against each other faintly. material on material, fabric kissing fabric. you wished you could feel him on your skin.
the sound of your voice had lulled him gently as he dipped his head down lower so you could properly see him, despite your head back to look at him.
“hi, baby.”
your stomach flipped violently.
there it was again. baby. fuck.
as though the divorce papers were fickle, representing a momentary lapse of judgement instead of a ruling decision. like he still woke up beside you every morning and ruined your cheeks with kisses before falling in between your thighs.
the dazed look on your face didn’t go unnoticed.
before you could even respond, yejin appeared behind you with the biggest smile she could possibly muster.
“oh my god,” she squeaked dramatically. “you both look insane!”
jungkook blinked, momentarily pulled from the emotional spiral you were both taking part in as he straightened slightly, despite still being awfully close to you. your cheeks heated at the sound of her voice, jumping a little in shock, causing you to brush against him faintly.
“hi, yejin.”
“don’t hi yejin me.” she narrowed her eyes dangerously. “if she cries tonight, i’ll kill you.”
“yejin!” you flushed red.
jungkook, however, allowed for a soft smile, nodding once. “fair.”
the sheer sincerity of it made the room go quiet, your eyes meeting his once more. you knew though it was a passing comment, he truly meant it - he’d let her kill him if it meant you’d hurt less.
your chest tightened all over again.
yejin seemed to realise it too, her teasing expression softening at the both of you. idiots in love, both too cautious to know what the correct next step was - thank god she loved to meddle.
“okay! you’re both gonna be late so hurry up.” she hummed, turning you and looking over you for any last minute touch ups. “i’ll take these. i’ll show myself out.”
with a cheeky wink, she all but pushed you backwards towards jungkook where your back gently brushed against his front. she had taken the flowers, shoved your clutch in your hand and shut the door in your face, all after giving you a big grin.
he didn’t move from behind you, despite you turning to properly face him. the two of you stared at one another openly, eyebrows pulling together - you could see it happening in real time, the way his body curled at the mere feel of you. to be so close to you, touching you; it was out of a far away dream.
you felt it too - god, you could feel it in your veins. the horrifying wave of unashamed want that filtered through you so naturally, your body knew him. your body recognised your husband.
your man.
his restraint was palpable. you could see it in the way his fingers flexed on either side of him, almost twitching as muscle memory surfaced from deep inside of him. for years touching you had been second nature, with a hand on your waist, fingers lifting your chin, arms around your figure to hold you up for a kiss.
now he looked almost tortured as he realised he no longer knew what he was allowed to do.
the realisation alone softened you.
“we should go.” you whispered up at him gently, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
jungkook stared at you, offering a small nod almost obediently despite the stark hunger in his eyes.
“yeah.” he cleared his throat. “yeah, okay.”
he stepped back and first; the distance was felt immediately.
you suddenly missed the warmth that radiated off of him, fingers faintly tugging on his suit jacket so gently you weren’t even aware you were doing it. what the fuck was wrong with you? one touch and you were already spiralling into him again like the last eight months had never happened.
jungkook noticed. of course he did.
his chest visibly expanded from beneath the expensive material, eyes darkening so suddenly you felt heat up and down your spine. the way he looked at you had emotion swirling in your stomach, so hungry. so devoted.
you slowly released him, blinking rapidly as though you’d only just realised what you’d done.
“sorry.” you whispered instinctively.
jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed together in offence.
“don’t apologise for touching me.” his voice came out firmer than expected, low. far too intimate given the apartment hallway you were in.
the silence that followed felt thick enough to choke on, neither of you making an effort to move despite knowing you were bordering on being late. the tension was so unbearable now that you were both alone, freely staring at one another after so much time apart - no yejin to soften the edges. just fifteen years worth of tension, want and need all accumulated between you.
his eyes flickered downwards as he watched you sway slightly.
“your heels are insane.” he muttered softly.
you blinked. “hm?”
“you’re already wobbling.”
offended, your mouth gaped. “i am not wobbling!”
jungkook let out a small huff of amusement, loving how easy it was to rile you up. the sound completely disarmed you, seeing a glimpse of the same jungkook you had been with all of your life.
“you almost fell walking out of the door.” he teased, with a tilt to his head downwards at you.
“i did not!” you shook your head with a small swat to his chest. he only let out another laugh. “you literally grabbed onto me.”
“that..doesn’t count, okay?”
“mm.” amusement stretched over his face, as he led you to the staircase, cautious to be slow as he watched you continue to slightly wobble due to the uneven surface of the hallway. “sure.”
before you could even think of a rebuttal, you watched jungkook look down the multiple staircases with a slight frown before turning to you. he suddenly bent at the knees, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for no longer than two seconds before one arm slid below your knees and the other around your back.
your gasp echoed.
“jungkook!”
he lifted you bridal style effortlessly, as though you weighed truly nothing to him.
your hands immediately flung to the back of his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders in shock as your body felt more of him than it had done in what felt like eons. jungkook’s hands were so much bigger than yours, and you could feel him everywhere all at once, enough to have you dizzy with a sense of want.
“what are you doing?!” you whispered harshly, eyes blown wide as he sorted you on one single arm, checking his phone for the time with the other. it was beyond easy.
jungkook merely looked down at you calmly, entirely unbothered despite the way you could feel his pulse hammering below your fingertips.
“preventative measures. can’t have you slipping down the stairs.”
you stared at him in disbelief. “you can’t just pick me up!”
he scoffed a little, as though your words were going in one ear and out the other. your comfort came first, that much was ingrained in him and even you couldn’t stop him when it came to that.
he walked down the stairs as though it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand spread wide against your back, claiming whilst the other was hooked under your thighs, making sure you were as comfortable as possible against him. your dress was draped so beautifully over his arm that anyone who would have caught you in that moment would have remarked, ironically, how bridal you looked.
you couldn’t believe how safe he felt.
jungkook noticed the second you relaxed into him. properly.
“missed carrying you.” he admitted quietly as he descended another step.
your entire body burned. “jungkook.” you breathed weakly, though there was no real warning behind your tone.
“what?” he hummed innocently. “s’true.”
you remembered almost fondly - it was the one thing you probably missed more than anything else. he would carry you everywhere - from the bed to your bath, to the couch after you’d woken up, through grocery stores just to hear you squeak in embarrassment. one time he had held you for an hour straight, walking you home after a date just because your feet hurt.
and now, here you were again, tucked into his chest as though it was home. you supposed it was.
your heart ached so violently at the memory that looking up at him through your lashes had your brain whizzing too fast for you to keep up with.
“you’ve gotten so much bigger.” you whispered almost shyly before you could stop yourself, already tucked into him too comfortably.
big mistake.
his heart truly nearly fucking stopped. his head snapped down at you almost instantly, eyes darkening so visibly it had you avoiding any contact, instead focusing your gaze on his clothed pecs.
“yeah?” he asked slowly.
your cheeks were flushed dark, realising how that may have sounded.
“just..got broader.” you clarified through another whisper, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in his neck out of embarrassment.
“been working out a lot more.” he murmured down at you, ducking his head a little so that he could meet your eyes, a small smile forming.
you nibbled your lip with a little nod, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair.
jungkook knew you loved the size difference between you, but it truly didn’t compare to how fucked it made his mind go. it was the first thing he had noticed when you opened the door again - how despite your heels, you were still so much shorter. it drove him insane, especially now that he was bigger. feeling you curled into his chest like this, all safe and protected, it made him feel wanted. to have you notice it, address it even so shyly; fuck. it ruined him.
by the time he had reached the bottom floor, your cheeks were still heated, dreading the fact he would have to let you go when all you wanted was to curl into him even deeper. to think ten minutes ago you had so much anxiety when now, he was actively conversing with you all whilst carrying you, it felt euphoric.
the driver stood outside of the car, the same man who drove you both to events when you were still together. your eyes widened a little as you watched him open the back door for you both, all whilst you were still leisurely held in his arms.
your embarrassment returned instantly.
“put me down!” you hissed quietly.
jungkook looked at you, unaffected. “why?”
“because your driver is literally staring at us, jungkook!”
the poor man looked away with a growing smile. he had missed seeing his boss so carefree, knowing that he was only like this when the situation pertained to you.
he smirked faintly. “he’s driven us around for years, baby. pretty sure he’s seen us do a lot worse.”
your mouth fell open, swatting his chest. “jungkook!”
that finally earned you a proper smile, brief but enough to knock the very air out of your lungs, your too large eyes drinking it in almost desperately. he was so handsome it hurt, and it wasn’t until now you realised how much you had missed his smile.
carefully, he gently lowered you to the ground, making sure you were comfortable on your feet.
his hands lingered. neither of you moved.
your faces were suddenly so close once more as your hands had slid down from his neck, but remained in contact, fingers digging into his chest faintly to feel him. the city noise faded around you and into the background as he looked down at you with an emotion that could only be classed as longing.
“you good?” he asked softly.
you nodded too quickly. “mhm.”
liar.
his eyes dropped to your lips once more, eyeing the gloss almost hungrily - would it taste like the strawberry you always applied? sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he’d remember the flavour.
then, like he had to physically pull himself back, he stepped closer to the car and gestured to it slowly.
“after you.”
you slid into the backseat first, smoothening your dress as it rode up your body, all whilst your pulse hammered harshly.
the interior of the car was sleek, donned in a luxurious black leather whilst it remained dimly lit in the back, with enough enough space to stretch out your legs. the scent of jungkook’s cologne was addicting, and you immediately recognised it to be the one you had bought him on your last anniversary together, your heart fluttering at the thought.
once he climbed in beside you, you realised how intimate the space actually was.
jungkook sat close enough for his thigh to brush against yours, broad shoulders taking up far too much room whilst the driver shut the door quietly behind him.
neither of you acknowledged the contact. it somehow made it worse.
it wasn’t until the divider between the front and the back began slowly sliding upwards, offering a layer of privacy that your breath caught audibly.
jungkook noticed - of course he fucking noticed. he couldn’t stop staring at you, especially now that he had you trapped here, pushed against him like you belonged with a drive ahead of you. god, the things he wanted to do to you in this dress were sinful at best, but he had to practise restraint, no matter how much it took out of him.
he leaned back, one arm sliding over to the top of your seat, where although he wasn’t touching you, you slyly leaned in just to have more of his warmth. it felt so familiar, so nauseatingly natural that anything other would have felt wrong.
he watched as your thighs pressed together.
fuck.
“you nervous?” he asked in his low voice, jaw ticking.
your eyes slowly shifted, finally meeting his gaze. through a shaky laugh, one without humour, you nodded. “obviously.”
he softened at that, sharpness melting away to reveal the tenderness below.
“it’s just me, y/n.”
you felt so hyperaware of everything. the rain that tapped softly against the tinted windows, and the gentle purr of the car engine beneath you. the feel of jungkook’s thigh soothed you, whilst his heavy gaze unnerved you - a cocktail mix that felt so entirely him.
you could feel his eyes on you before you even looked up. once you did, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare - not polite. certainly not subtle. his gaze moved over you, up and down, like he couldn’t help himself, like he he’d been trying to hold back the second you opened up the door to your apartment.
“fuck.” he muttered under his breath.
your cheeks flushed pink, whispering his name.
you watched his eyes flush down your body, eyes stuck on your cleavage and the way the material clung to your hips. “look at you.”
you instinctively looked down, shy at the attention but you couldn’t help but crave it. you knew exactly how obsessive jungkook was when it came to you, knew how deeply infatuated he was with every inch of you but seeing it so closely after so long almost felt soothing. it was a reminder that though everything had changed, somethings stayed the same.
his hand moved before you could think too hard about it, cupping under your chin and tilting your face upwards.
“don’t hide from me.”
your stomach tightened, eyelids hooded.
this thumb brushed against your jaw once, so soft, so unbelieving that you were in his arms despite the fact you technically weren’t his anymore. not that he believed that.
“i can’t stop looking at you.” he admitted, tone rougher now. “been trying since you opened the door, but it’s impossible.”
your thighs pressed together immediately, his gaze dropping to the small action. the reaction was subtle, but there - he noticed everything when it came to you.
you suddenly felt so warm.
“you’re staring so hard.” you murmured nervously, fingers twisting together in your lap.
“because you’re driving me fucking crazy.”
the words came out so plainly your eyes widened.
jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose, head tipping backwards against his seat all whilst you watched with heavy breath. the far gone part of your mind wanted to track his neck, trace his adam’s apple with your fingers all so he could continue looking at you the way he had been.
he looked devastating like this - broad thighs spread in the backseat with your body pressed against him, his arm slung heavy on the head of your seat. the both of you were a mess for one another, sick in the head with infatuation.
you weren’t stupid. you knew your effect on him, perhaps not to the full extent, but enough to know that nearly a year’s distance between you was enough to drive a man like him insane. his hand dragged over his face with a quiet groan before adjusting himself slightly over his suit trousers.
your eyes flickered downwards before you could stop yourself.
jungkook smiled at the sound of your quiet giggle as you put a hand over your mouth to muffle it, looking up to meet his gaze after noticing he was half hard. all you had done was exist.
“yeah,” he murmured, the sound of your laugh blooming in his chest. “that’s your fault.”
you slapped his thigh gently, although you couldn’t hold back on the continuous giggles that were now leaving you as you felt lighter than you had in what felt like years. he too matched you, the intensity lightening up massively as he let out a quiet laugh despite himself.
“what’d you expect, hm?” he asked, voice soft. “i haven’t seen you in eight months, and now you’re sat next to me looking like this. wearing pink.”
his hand slowly slid over, brushing against your own, fingertips grazing your skin before he intertwined them, gently.
you let him.
the second you curled your hand into his yourself, his expression changed. up until now, it was him losing control, reigning himself in, biting himself down to make sure you were as comfortable as possible but fuck. you were the one touching him now, making sure he could see you intertwine your hands properly, squeezing his hand.
it felt like a confirmation that this was the beginning of a new chapter.
he wanted to scream, to yell on the top of his lungs at the thought of you openly showing him your willingness. his sweet, angel girl; he loved you more than words could describe and he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing you.
“missed this,” he admitted quietly, eyes on your much smaller hand holding his so intimately. “missed you touching me.”
your eyes burned suddenly.
jungkook noticed immediately with a frown, expression softening at the edges.
“hey, baby.” his thumb brushed yours. “don’t cry.”
“m’not crying.” you whispered, though your voice wobbled embarrassingly.
he held you close to him as you both remained quiet for the rest of the journey, though the silence felt welcomed after such a rush and mix of emotions. you had gone from anxiety, to confusion, to excitement, to warmth, to a painful reminder of what once was - it was enough to drive you insane. being around him hurt, but being near him was healing.
rain continued to pitter patter outside as your hands remained intertwined, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he sat there trying to fathom how this was real. you were letting him in, and he could see it, could see how much it was taking out of you and he’d be damned if he fucked it up again. to get a second chance was insanity alone, but to have it with you?
the car began slowing down.
through the tinted windows, you could see a flash of white, people trying to get a glimpse of the elusive ceo they were so obsessed with. you gulped as you watched other powerful business people walk in with their dates, models and celebrities lining up to have their picture taken.
you leaned into him almost immediately.
jungkook held onto you tightly, arm sliding over your waist and gently squeezing. “i’m here. stay by me.”
you nodded quickly, dazed. “okay.”
his eyes lingered on your face for a second too long before he muttered under his breath, almost like he couldn’t help himself. “you look so fucking pretty.”
your heart nearly stopped, meeting his gaze as your shoulders slumped, feeling calm through his sweet words.
the car door opened.
chaos.
jungkook stepped out first and the reaction was everything you had expected and somehow so much more. your eyes blinked as you watched the cameras explode violently, reporters shouting his name from all directions as they desperately tried to get a clear shot of him, knowing he could easily make front page news without having to try.
your heart stopped for a moment.
his back faced everyone else as he turned to you, taking a hold of your hands once more and gently helping you out of the car, smoothening your dress.
the second they saw you? everything multiplied by ten.
genuine screaming was heard from somewhere behind the barricades as you slowly stepped out, your own hand finding jungkook’s for a sense of comfort which he readily gave you, pulling you in a little closer than necessary. the noise was erupting, your vision blinded momentarily by the insane flashes, reports actually tripping over one another to take pictures of you in particular.
this wasn’t normal.
jeon jungkook never brought women anywhere. never entertained rumours, never dated publicly, never stood beside any other woman that hadn’t been you. even then, you had been painfully private, making sure to attend closed events with rare appearances, often opting to support in the shadows as opposed to centre stage as he was forced to.
but now? this was the loudest statement you could have possibly made and it slowly dawned on you both the nature of the decision.
you were telling the world you were ready to start again.
his entire demeanour had changed out here.
you were overwhelmed to say the least, but it was his arms around you that kept you grounded as you clung to him, your smaller frame tucked so delicately within his own that some found themselves putting their cameras down just so they could observe you both.
you were the epitome of love and neither of you even knew it.
ceo jungkook - all cold eyes, sharp jaw, that terrifying calmness. yet every few seconds he ducked his head down, whispering something in your ear that would have you smiling almost shyly back up at him, easing your mind away from the hundreds of people who wanted nothing more than to get a picture of you.
“jungkook over here!”
“is that your ex-wife?”
“are you two back together?!”
“y/n!”
you flinched slightly as the voices got louder the closer you walked down the carpet towards the venue, but it seemed jungkook’s presence only felt bigger.
“don’t look at them.” he whispered down into your ear, words tucked for you and you alone. “look at me.”
stupidly enough, you obeyed almost instantly. his eyes softened at the way you listened so sweetly.
“good girl.” he muttered absentmindedly before guiding you to the entrance and away from the prying eyes outside.
the words hit you far harder than they should have. good girl.
oh you were so fucked.
—
the venue was utterly breathtaking.
golden lighting spilled across towering ceilings whilst soft music played from a live orchestra at one side of the ballroom, so elegant you’re indeed whether you were even appropriately dressed. people stared at you openly, all whilst you and your flushed cheeks looked away, purposefully keeping your gaze vague and avoiding eye contact with most. glasses clinked together as powerful figures mingled amongst themselves, professional cameras still set up inside.
and yet, none of it compared to the way people reacted to jungkook.
conversations paused when he walked by, people straightening up. executives who had once terrified you now looked nervous approaching him and it reminded you exactly who he was outside of your relationship.
jeon jungkook was a terrifyingly cold, business man. he was untouchable and unfeeling, everything that made a powerful man powerful and then there was you. his one weakness.
his hand remained firm against the small of your back possessively, claiming you as his own in front of anyone who could see. you loved when he was like this, all brooding and dark as though anyone even had a chance to steal him from you - silly man. even now, with months of distance between you and a divorce, you were all his.
“breathe, baby.” he reminded with a quiet hum in your ear.
“i am breathing.” your cheeks warmed.
“barely.”
you shot him a look, though it was void of any real annoyance as he guided you further into the room. you couldn’t help but admire him openly, all whilst he scanned the room, not realising how deep you were falling into your own thoughts. he really had gotten so much bigger, with his chest so wide you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like under your hands. his shoulders too.
you had spent the entire drive trying not to stare at him. you had failed. miserably.
“drink?”
he pulled you out of your thoughts with a little gasp, realising you had been openly checking him out much to his pleasure. you found yourself nodding, nibbling away at your lip. “yes please.”
the words came out too fast, awarding you with a small laugh as he turned towards the bar.
your eyes followed him automatically.
that was another problem entirely. you see, no matter where jungkook stood, attention naturally followed. men greeted him immediately, keen to get into his good books whilst women openly stared, hoping to garner his fancy and yet he was completely and entirely uninterested. his gaze flickered back to you every few moments, as though he still couldn’t believe you were right there, just for him. just because he had asked you to come.
your chest squeezed painfully at the thought.
he returned only a few moments later with two champagne glasses, handing you yours to which you took with a nervous smile.
“thank you.”
your fingers brushed his purposefully. small, barely noticeable.
oh, but how jungkook had noticed. he noticed everything when it came to you and judging from the way his throat bobbed, taking a large sip of his drink, you knew that your poor ex husband was certainly not able to handle your charm.
the champagne helped much quicker than you were expecting it to.
after the first glass, the tension in your shoulders completely eased but it was the second that had you transforming. your overthinking thoughts ceased to exist, as the warmth in your blood brought out a shade of pink in your face that jungkook couldn’t look away from. standing close to him suddenly felt less terrifying and so much more thrilling.
a dangerous combination - especially when jungkook was looking at you with so much hunger.
a buzz had settled deep into your bloodstream, your brain slightly away with the fairies as you continued to sip, looking up at him. your other hand darted out, fingers trailing over his stomach openly, over to where the buttons of his suit sat. what was an absentminded action to you, tipsy, was enough to have jungkook almost shaking.
you were braver when you had alcohol in you, that much had been true your entire relationship, but even this felt quite insane. he watched as your fingers trailed up and down, sliding up to where his chest was only to drop lower and lower. it wasn’t until your fingertips were brushing the top of his suit trousers that he grabbed your hand.
you pouted at him, head tilted. “why?”
your whine had his shoulders rolling.
“because,” he said slowly, voice rough beneath the sound of the orchestra. “you’re getting handsy.”
your lips patted in faux innocence. “am not.”
jungkook stared at you half in disbelief and other half amusement, still holding your hand that he now pressed to his chest firmly. your fingers had nearly slipped below his waistband, a thought that had him nearly taking you home then and there but he knew it was because the alcohol was making you brave - his tipsy girl. his palm engulfed yours, feeling your fingers wriggle underneath to continue your plans with a slight whine but he was both firm and possessive, not letting you go.
you pressed your thighs together again.
this was the champagne.
he knew it, knew it to be a dangerous mix - the alcohol and your naturally clingy personality once you got comfortable, all combined with the eight months apart meant you were now simply doing whatever your heart wanted with little care to your mind.
your cheeks warmed as you watched him stare down at you, gaze heavier than anything all evening. it seemed the longer you were both in each other’s presence, despite how long you’d spent apart, the more bold you were getting - but could you be blamed? he might have been your ex husband but he still belonged to you, and you knew you were still entirely his, a fucked up fact that meant you were both drawn to each other in ways that meant you could never move on.
multiple months of healing all gone to shit in a single night, with a few drinks. who were you both kidding - moving on wasn’t an option. even you could see that now.
your fingers flexed under his hold, people secretly watching you both interact with bated breath. they couldn’t believe this was the same jungkook they were afraid of, made to mush at the hands of the pretty woman in front of him. he was but a man afterall.
rather than pulling away, your fingers simply curled around the fabric of his suit jacket, fingers touching his shirt purposefully to elicit another reaction out of him. he had reduced you to putty in the drive over and perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, but you wanted him to feel the same.
jungkook was quiet. too quiet.
jaw slightly slack as he took you in, you touching him like his body belonged to you and you alone. he relished in the fact you knew it just as well as he did.
he had missed this so much. just the feel of you, no matter how innocent you pretended to be, skin on skin. it felt like a promise.
and now, you were standing here, head tilted to stare up at him properly whilst looking through pretty lashes that batted at him subconsciously.
it was driving him insane.
“you’re staring again.” you hummed at him. his eyebrows narrowed. “because you keep touching me.”
you tried to bite down the smile that began to form on your lips as your fingers continued to flex, soon finding his heartbeat to confirm your suspicious. oh, he was a mess underneath your hand.
“you don’t seem to mind.”
his jaw flexed. you heard him curse under his breath, calling you a fucking minx which only had you giggling just as quietly. it was a powerful thing to have a man as influential as jungkook so weak in the knees for you, and you couldn’t deny the affect it was having on your mind. he snaked a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him in a way that was absolutely not becoming of the environment you were in.
“keep this shit up and i’ll take you home.” he promised quietly, leaning down to whisper into your ear.
unfortunately for him, you had no intention of stopping. especially when you had just begun.
“promise?” you whispered back, eyes wide with a faux innocence you knew he wanted to ruin.
his jaw clenched again, blood half boiling at how cheeky you were being and cock hardening by how badly he wanted to ruin you. had this been any other circumstance, you’d already be in the bathroom with your dress to your chest, being pounded into by the only man who knew exactly how to ruin you until you were well bred.
but alas - this night was about proving himself to you, and no matter how hard you made him, he knew he had to do this right.
and so, instead, he pinched you at your waist slightly, pulling an airless squeak out of you before he brushed his lips against your ear.
“behave.”
the word should have been warning enough, but instead, warmth fluttered through you, rushing through your stomach so violently you pressed against him further. jungkook nearly hissed, watching how reactive you were for him, with your hooded eyes and slack jaw.
fuck.
his hands were all over you, with little care to who was watching and you knew tomorrow you’d be mortified when you remembered how brazen you had both been, but it was hard not to feel addicted when you were both feeling the same way. you giggled lightly, hiding your face in his chest momentarily before meeting his gaze.
“you’re very confident for someone i divorced.” you playfully hummed.
at that, he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. “didn’t stop you from getting your pretty hands all over me.”
the alcohol was well into your system as you found yourself giggling once more, fully hiding yourself in his chest to which he wrapped his arms around you properly, the two of you whispering and laughing together as though it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkook’s colleagues, rivals and admirers all watched you both in genuine curiosity at the way you were so well suited. two people, quietly infatuated with one another - it was toothache inducing.
the conversation between you both remained playful, with his thumb tracing your bottom lip at one point muttering something about how badly he wanted to know how your lip gloss tasted. an hour in and you were both practically trying to one up each other with how far you could take it, leaving you both laughing whilst trying to stay quiet.
this is what you had missed. joy. comfort. being around him in a way that didn’t feel like you were fighting to prove something. it had been so long since you’d felt this carefree that you realised pretty quickly that you couldn’t let him ago again. it was a horrible thought at first, realising that the past few months may have been for naught but perhaps absence did make the heart fonder.
soon enough, you had been there close enough two hours and jungkook had done the rounds once you settled in, less tipsy but still buzzed. you met his new business partners, clients you hadn’t seen in a while, a mixture of familiar faces and people you had only ever heard about. neither of you commented on the fact he introduced you intimately, with a heavy arm around your waist.
it genuinely felt like no time had past with the way you both felt so comfortable, the dynamics between you natural considering he had been the one constant in your life for the past fifteen years. you sipped on your glass of water as you listened to his conversation half mindedly, watching him discuss a new company contract with one of his shareholders.
it wasn’t until you heard a voice echo throughout the ballroom announcing the beginning of the charity auction that the conversation came to an end. jungkook immediately took a hold of your hand, planting a cheeky kiss to your knuckles with a slight smirk, before leading you towards the front of the room where the different things on auction sat to be admired over.
“c’mon.”
you followed him easily, hands intertwined whilst you walked side by side, champagne now a dull buzz in your body. people moved around you respectfully, all whilst their eyes lingered on you much longer than needed. could you blame them? you were the infamous woman that had managed to lock down the one man that seemed disinterested in everything, so much so that you had him laughing and flushing pink every time you so much as looked at him. the divorced couple that looked anything but divorced.
oh, they were staring indeed, with hushed whispers and even quieter questions.
your attention drifted lazily over the displayed pieces, politely but nothing quite caught your interest, your eyebrows pulling up at some of the art pieces named. it wasn’t until you reached the very end that you found yourself stopped in your tracks.
jungkook noticed, he too coming to a stop to glance over at you only for his gaze to follow yours. he immediately understood.
beneath warm lighting sat a painting, inconspicuous to most considering it was much smaller than the grand pieces to the left, but it had your eyelashes fluttering
white gardenias.
your breath left you quietly.
it wasn’t just flowers - it was an oil painting, textured with strokes of green, ivory and creams whilst petals cascaded over one another so delicately your heart ached. the background dat moodier, darker compared to the softness of the flower leaving you in a state of utter awe for a few moments, all whilst holding the hand of your ex-husband who watched you with bated breath.
it was beautiful.
you stepped closer unconsciously, hardly aware of yourself.
jungkook didn’t think he’d ever seen you look at something with this much wonder, in all of the years he had known you. it did something to him, to watch you genuinely in awe at something he could so easily give you - it made him realise he needed provide it for you just to see that look again and again and again and again and again.
he felt this throat tighten, a harsh lump forming the longer he watched you admire it. the way your glossy lips parted, eyes widened and fingers tracing the air in front of it - donned in the same diamond necklace he had gotten you years prior. the same necklace he’d bought you after you murmured something about diamonds resembling stars late one night as you curled into him in your shared bed.
and here you were, wearing it, all whilst your hand curled inside his as though you had never been more at peace. that did something to him. something he couldn’t quite describe.
your fingers moved to brush over the small description plaque underneath, reading the inspiration for the piece with a small, choked huff - devotion. enduring, eternal love through trial and tribulation through each season of life.
your own throat tightened then. of course.
“gardenias are difficult flowers..they die so easily if you don’t take care of them.” you found yourself whispering; straightening your back and avoiding his gaze to bite back any tears that wanted to appear.
his chest tightened violently.
all he could think about was the little apartment you had both shared when you were younger, when he barely had any money to get you by each month. the one with the poor lighting and the janky sink - you used to sit by the window each morning whilst he got ready for work, whispering sweet things down at them because you believed it would help them grow.
he remembered every single detail.
“you kept yours alive for months.” he whispered back, the hand that was clasped in yours now intertwining your fingers, as though he could project his memories back to you.
you blinked back at him, eyes glassy, surprised slightly. you hadn’t expected him to remember something so small and insignificant.
how could jungkook could ever forget a single thing about you?
a small smile pulled at your lips. “i used to get upset whenever they’d lose petals.”
“you cried once.” he corrected.
you rolled your eyes. “shut up!”
he only shrugged, lips twitching. “had to console you all night.”
“i thought i killed it!”
his quiet laugh nearly knocked the air from your lungs, all whilst he pulled you back into him, breathing in the scent from your hair before taking you to your shared table, where the auction was about to begin. your fingers remained curled around his own, all whilst he helped you sit down, fixing your dress for you.
he physically couldn’t pull away from you, couldn’t stop touching you even as you began conversing to the woman beside you, who jungkook recognised as one of his shareholders. his thigh was pressed against yours, all whilst his hand sat heavy in your lap, both of your hands playing with his fingers absentmindedly.
the different items came on stage as you watched people bid, raising their panels whilst some shouted out their numbers for more exclusive pieces. you couldn’t help your giggles, leaning over to whisper in jungkook’s ear whenever you’d see more excited people, all for him to lean into you with an equal smile. the two of you were being silly, and it felt fun for once.
by the time the gardenia painting finally appeared, your posture straightened as you tapped on his hand with a wiggle of your eyebrows. jungkook watched you with a lazy grin, eyes flicking over your face.
cute.
the bidding started much lower than you expected, causing you to frown. “that’s it?”
he nearly laughed, seeing your passion for your flowers. “art’s subjective, baby.”
“yeah, well everyone is wrong..so.”
fuck. he loved you so much.
you watched as someone raised their paddle, and then another, and another. a bidding war began as your head bounced between people, watching in utter curiosity though a part of you wondered what it would be like to bid yourself. ironically for you, you were completely unaware of the man beside you staring at your profile like he wanted to devote the rest of his life to you.
“two million.”
your eyebrows raised.
“two and a half!” someone else shouted, causing you to play with his fingers a little faster almost out of excitement.
“hope someone who actually appreciates it gets it.” you leaned over to whisper into his ear, lips brushing against his cheek in the process.
his jaw ticked.
game on.
just as someone shouted out, claiming three million, jungkook ran a hand through his hair before raising his panel, dark eyes trained on the auctioneer.
“five million.”
your head snapped sideways so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, all whilst jungkook sat completely calm, hand raised lazily as though this was easy. like he hadn’t just dropped five million as though it was nothing.
“jungkook!” you whispered, eyes wide. he merely hummed back at you, hand still intertwined with yours. “hm?”
“what are you doing?!”
“getting you your painting.”
you stared at him in disbelief.
across the room, multiple people were openly whispering now, glancing between you because everyone could recognise what was exactly happening. this wasn’t ego - this was love.
obsessive, and terrifying love.
another bidder raised their paddle almost nervously, calling out a measly “five and a half” after a moment of hesitation.
“seven million.”
an audible murmur fluttered through the room just as you grabbed onto his arm with a large gasp, eyes widening as though he was batshit insane. “jungkook, stop!”
he finally looked at you, small smile playing on his lips at the sight of you so shocked. it was so cute the way you were practically toppling over your seat, a reminder that despite being with him, you had never really dabbled in his wealth whatsoever despite it all belonging to you.
a large shout of ‘sold’ was heard by all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. his eyes admired you, from your lips to your eyes, your shaking hands that were both clinging to his thigh, your cleavage that had dipped even further than earlier. fuck. you were the epitome of everything he had ever wanted.
“you wanted it.” he whispered to you, as though that was all he needed, as though it was enough of a reason to spend seven million in one night with a flick of his wrist.
your eyes near enough watered at his words, knowing that nothing had ever described jungkook better.
—
things between you and jungkook had settled into something dangerous.
not enough to call yourselves fixed, or enough to place a label onto whatever fragile thing had formed between you, but enough that your days seemed lighter. having him back in your life meant you were happy again, and actually excited - finally feeling whole in ways that no one else quite understood.
he called more often now.
what started off as phone calls sometimes briefly between meetings, something about using your voice to destress before important gatherings. they quickly turned to late night facetimes where both of you laid in bed, half naked, chatting until either of you would fall asleep. some nights they turned into something darker, dirtier, with a slip of your night dress to show him more all whilst he’d grunt and hiss at the sight, whispering all of the things he wanted to do to you.
it was beginning to feel domestic, familiar even. so terrifyingly easy.
you realised pretty quickly that somewhere along the way, between late night conversations and soft laughs exchanged, you had began falling deeply in love again.
hard.
he had been away on business ever since the gala a few weeks ago, with him currently stationed in hong kong over some important stakeholder meetings. you knew he was incredibly stressed over it, given the frequency of his calls - always at odd times during the day and night, sometimes with the intention of just looking at your face as though it was the only motivator he needed.
the time difference was more irritating than you had expected, and yet he still managed to find a way to accommodate to your schedule as opposed to his.
your favourite so far had been a simple picture of the skyline view from his hotel, taken at three am with a caption of ‘wish you were here.’
you hated how much those four words affected you.
pathetic, really. how even now, you’d kick your feet in excitement over any message sent from your ex husband.
it had become routine now, to expect messages from him with each waking moment, calls when the workload was heavier. perhaps that was exactly why the silence that afternoon felt so particularly loud.
you were curled into your couch, opting to work from home as you were in his jumper and a pair of flimsy shorts. you hummed quietly as you balanced your laptop on your thighs, all whilst a random entertainment news channel played in the back to offer some noise in your otherwise quiet apartment.
your ears perked up once you heard jungkook’s name somewhere in the background.
your attention barely lifted at first, no doubt another gossip sesh on how attractive he was which often made you giggle, but this felt different.
“ceo jeon jungkook spotted in hong kong alongside mystery woman-“
your stomach dropped.
the laptop slipped from your thighs and onto the couch cushion, all whilst your head snapped towards the television, reaching for the remote to turn it up. the image splashed across the screen, all whilst you sat there, smaller than anything, watching.
jungkook.
beside him, an undeniably beautiful woman.
she was tall, elegant, dressed sharply in a suit practically created for her whilst cameras flashed at them harshly, exiting a building together. the headline underneath made your chest cave in further.
‘global heartthrob ceo finally moving on after the divorce?’
you stared. and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared until your knees had slowly slid to the ground, your back touching the couch whilst the entertainment show droned on and on about the details of your relationship with jungkook, about how smitten you had both seen at the gala, how they were the first to break this exclusive news.
your brain knew better. you knew jungkook like the back of your hand and logically, you fucking knew better. jungkook was so many things, but he had always placed you and your emotions first, your priorities, your necessities, your life - your wants and needs transcended everything else. you had never asked for it to be this way, it was just the way he was.
even during your separation, he had never looked at a woman twice. you knew that.
but logic had never been able to defeat insecurity.
all you could think, all you could see, based off of a single image was how she fit beside him. how effortless it looked, how beautiful she was, how successful. so poised and polished - she was everything a woman who stood beside jungkook ought to have been and it was killing you in real time.
the worst thing of all was the realisation that he didn’t belong to you.
all of this emotion, this horrible feeling inside your chest and soul - you were the one to divorce him. you had been the one that demanded it end back then, no matter how much he had begged you to see reason, believing that it was the correct step forward for the both of you. he had every right to move onto someone else, had every right to actually step forward towards something new.
and yet the thought of him belonging to someone else felt the closest to grief you had ever felt in your life.
your phone rang violently loud beside you, droning out the words of the presenter and making you jump slightly.
jungkook.
your eyes burned instantly.
the phone continued to ring and ring across the sofa cushion as you stared at his contact picture, a photo taken on your anniversary a few years ago that you could never bring yourself to change. your chest rose unevenly as another harsh wave of emotion hit you.
you couldn’t do this.
not after you had spent the past few months trying not to think about him, only for him to come back into your life.
the call rang out.
then another came. and another. and another.
your phone was blowing up with a mixture of calls and messages, each vibration making your heart ache so much worse as the topic changed on the tv, talking about some other celebrity gossip all whilst you felt your entire life collapse before your very eyes.
with shaking hands and teary orbs, you turned your phone off.
you burst into tears.
the rest of the day was spent being utterly miserable. you had never felt so pathetic in all of your life, with pain running up and down your veins in a way that genuinely left you almost debilitated. the last time you were this heartbroken, you were a fresh divorcee.
the curtains remained shut despite the afternoon sun outside, your apartment dim besides the soft flicker of the television that continued playing mindlessly in the background. at some point, you had dragged yourself towards your bed with tears still streaming down your face, his oversized jumper now heavy on your frame.
you hated this version of yourself.
hated how deeply this had affected you despite knowing better. you knew him better than this, had enough trust in him and yet you couldn’t barter with what was directly in front of you - months after rebuilding a sense of confidence all for it to shatter over one measly, gossip channel.
you closed your eyes, images of the beautiful woman stood beside him flooding your mind causing you to open them up again with a quiet whimper. so composed and effortless. untouched by the devastation eating you alive.
by morning, your chest was in genuine pain.
you looked awful too.
your eyes were swollen, red with the continuous tears all night whilst your skin felt sunken and dull, the early morning sun hitting your skin from glimpses through your blinds. you forced yourself out of your bed and into your shower, trying to rid the plaguing thoughts out of your body. you failed, spending the majority of it quietly crying.
by the time you were in the living room again, your nose was just as pink as your eyes, hands shaky and body adorned in an old t-shirt you had secretly stolen from his wardrobe back when you were packing to leave. you curled weakly into the couch, blanket curled onto your legs as you begged your body to rid the horrible stomach ache that had now found home inside you.
your phone remained switched off, somewhere under the blanket, still left there from yesterday. you reached for the remote.
you just wanted mindless noise.
instead, the television flickered to life and you found your breath catching harshly for the umpteenth time within 24 hours.
breaking news banners on every channel you came across.
jeon jungkook.
a whimper pulled up out of your throat at the sight of his images everywhere, your fingers tightening around the blanket before you turned the volume up.
“the ceo has officially filed legal proceedings against multiple media outlets this morning following yesterday’s false dating allegations-“
your heartbeat began thundering. you sat up immediately.
another clip appeared instantly, reporters practically tripping over one another in front of jungkook’s main company building, cameras flashing in hopes of getting a picture of anyone who could answer for anything.
“the statement released by jeon jungkook’s legal team less than half an hour ago reads as follows-“
the screen shifted, and suddenly, there it was. cold white text against a black background that had your breathing stopping completely.
“the allegations regarding ceo jeon jungkook are entirely false. the individual photographed was present for a scheduled business meeting attended by multiple executives and investors. legal action will be taken against all parties responsible for the deliberate spread of false information and invasion of privacy.”
your throat tightened harshly.
your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the presenter stop, looking at the camera momentarily, before her voice completely softened.
“as for the final portion of the statement, many online are expressing surprise regarding the unusually personal nature of his response as he personally commented-“
more text appeared.
you scanned it once. twice.
over and over and over until a harsh sob was ripped from your lips.
“i have never entertained nor pursued any romantic involvement with anyone.
there has only ever been one woman.”
a broken sound tore from your throat as your hand flew to your mouth, fresh tears spilling from eyes so fast that you couldn’t see the tv. your heart felt like it had been picked up from the ground, cradled and cherished after being pierced over and over all night, attacked without any reprise.
you couldn’t believe what you were reading.
jungkook, your jungkook? so private and reserved, not willing to give one inch of himself to anyone other than you and yet here he was, making himself as clear as possible. he was telling everyone with ears that you were his but more importantly, he belonged to you and you alone.
he despised media attention, it truly was the one thing he hated more than anything and the both of you would often laugh at rumours and random things stated in the tabloids because they were all bullshit.
and yet he has made a statement publicly.
for you.
your chest cracked at the thought as you covered your face with both hands, sobbing harder and harder.
before you could wallow further, a loud banging erupted from the front door.
the sound tore so violently through the apartment, you jumped - startled on the couch whilst your heart leapt to your throat. the slight fear had your tears stopping immediately, allowing for enough of a shock to regulate your mind for a few moments.
another knock came before you could even process it. louder, and louder, and louder.
“baby!”
your breath hitched painfully.
jungkook?
his voice sounded wrecked. not the calm, controlled man the world knew, nor the eerie ceo who often stood emotionless in front of the cameras whilst deals worth billions sat heavy on his shoulders. this was your jungkook - the one who loved you much too hard, half unravelled whenever the conversation pertained to you.
“open the door.” he shouted again, along another collective banging. his voice cracked slightly. “please..”
you stared into space for just a moment, your mind unable to comprehend what was happening before your legs carried you to the door, through the hallway. you slipped on your blanket slightly, already shaking body weaker than usual given the past twenty four hours, all whilst hot, heavy tears burned in your eyes once more.
another knock.
“baby, c’mon..”
the second your shaking hands unlocked the door, it swung open hard enough to hit the wall behind it, as though jungkook couldn’t believe you had actually heard him.
he looked utterly destroyed.
he stood, still in a suit that now sat disheveled on his frame, black tie loosened around his throat, white shirt wrinkled as though he had been in it for hours. his usually pushed back hair was messy, pulled at and tugged through large hands any time he had realised the depths of emotion you were no doubt feeling looking at the news - if the shoe was on the other foot, and jungkook had seen news of you and another man; he would’ve happily burnt the world to a crisp.
the second he saw you, his entire face fell apart, anger long dissipating.
“fuck.” he whispered, heaving out a breath.
his oversized shirt sat on your body, engulfing your smaller frame, swallowing you whole in a way that had his breath taken away. it was your eyes that broke him, however, as they looked so swollen, no doubt from crying so hard, your cheeks still damp and lips still quivering enough that he watched you bite down on them.
you watched his throat bob harshly, watched his eyes flicker over yourself frantically like he was trying to assess how badly you had been hurting without him here to comfort you. the thought terrified him.
that was all it took for a sob to rip out of your chest so painfully your knees almost buckled. your hands flew up to your face.
immediately, his arms shot out, cradling you almost harshly to him with one large arm completely covering you whilst his large hand pressed against the back of your head, holding you close to him as though this was the only remedy for a situation like this. his sweet girl. his sweet, sweet girl.
“i called you for nineteen fucking hours.” he said, eyes darting down at you desperately.
you couldn’t stop crying. “i know.”
“your phone was off.” his voice broke slightly, as though the situation had hurt him beyond words. “that scared me, y/n.” he admitted, chest heaving a little.
your crying only worsened immediately because of course it scared him - jeon jungkook, a man who’s entire identity was you and you alone. the prospect of losing you for the second time would surely be enough to kill him, and yet answering his calls felt like the last thing you could bring yourself to do.
“i tried not to think like that,” you choked out through hiccups. “i know you wouldn’t, logically i know but just kept seeing the pictures of you beside her and..”
your chest was heaving.
“stop talking about her.”
the words came out sharp, almost harsh.
his hand slipped to cup your face, holding your jaw in place whilst his arm slipped down, cupping your body to him so you could rest, his own strength supporting you up. his eyes were wild.
“don’t,” he repeated quieter, chest rising and falling. “don’t..stand here and..fuck, don’t compare yourself to someone else for even a second over some shitty tabloid.”
you couldn’t stop crying. it was as though that was all you could do.
“jungkook..”
“no.” he cut in immediately, voice cracking at the edges. “you don’t get it.”
he stood before you, a cocktail mix of utter despair and devotion, all whilst anger and fear simmered on the surface, every emotion open on his face to the point he almost felt unrecognisable. you knew he loved you, could see it painted on his features for the world to see but you weren’t sure when his feelings for you had become his very destruction. it scared you.
his hand shook around your face.
“you think i flew half a day because of a fucking dating rumour?” his eyes glazed over. “i don’t give a fuck about the tabloids, baby, you know that. i was scared because i know what this would do to you. i know your brain.”
your breath hitched.
“i know you.” he repeated, hands continuing to shake against you. “know how your mind gets. i know you’d sit here and cry over this shit when you know i would never touch another woman.”
another harsh sob clawed up your throat, and jungkook heaved at the sight as though it was the worst sound he had ever heard.
“look at me.” he pleaded suddenly.
his hands dropping from your body as he suddenly dropped to his knees - a man of his stature rendered completely broken by the woman he loved. the amount of people who looked up to him, feared him; the amount of people he dictated on a daily basis and yet here he was, on his knees for you. only you.
“there has never been anyone else.” his voice cracked completely. “not before you, not after you. not after this, no matter what happens, you hear me? it’s you, and it’s always going to be just you.”
your own knees were begging to give out, as you leaned against him, only for him to rest his face against your stomach, breathing you in like a man desperate for your understanding. he wanted you to see, needed you to comprehend the situation at hand. there was no him without you, the concept didn’t exist.
“you’re the only woman i’ve ever loved and there is nothing after you, y/n, because you’re my wife. divorce or not, i don’t give a fuck, i belong to you forever whether you want me or not and i won’t..i can’t have you thinking otherwise.”
your entire body gave in at the admission as you collapsed into him with another heart breaking sob, jungkook holding you like a man terrified he had said too much and truly not enough. for the first time since the divorce, neither of you tried to pretend this wasn’t exactly what it was.
—
the rest of the evening softened after that.
somewhere between the tears and the endless kisses planted to your cheeks, nose, head, hands and stomach came an ease to the panic that had long settled into your bones for the past few months. he refused to let you go, grunting almost childishly whenever you’d move out of his arms to do anything until you found yourself snuggled back into his arms, as though the thought of distance after such a clear cut declaration of love physically pained him.
he looked exhausted now that the adrenaline of the situation had worn off, his under eyes sunken from the exhaustion that had now settled deep into his body. to think he had flown all the way across the world simply because of the thought of you crying all alone over a situation that was so completely false upset him - it made you want to sob all over again.
how could you have ever let him go? how could you proceed forward without him, without him so deeply intertwined in your life once more?
eventually you found an old pair of black shorts mixed in with your clothes from when you had packed your things all those months ago. jungkook had stared at them for a few moments after his shower, towel low on his hips as water droplets slipped down his chest. it had his heart pounding faster than anything yet.
“you kept these?” he murmured down at you, watching the way your eyes flickered up from his physique, small gasp leaving your lips at being caught. “oh! um..must’ve slipped them in by accident.”
he didn’t comment on the fact you were wearing his t-shirt either, despite it hardening his cock.
still, he pulled them on as you settled into bed, your hair still scented from your earlier shower too. you, in his too big top, whilst he grabbed you immediately, shirtless and hands still desperate to hold you in a way he had held back on for so long.
you hummed as your body pressed against his, his figure snaking around your body as a heavy arm curled under your ass as a means to prop you up higher in his arms, causing you to giggle into his neck. your arms wrapped around him too, humming a little under your breath as he breathed in your scent openly.
you both laid there in silence for a long while, breathing. healing.
the room was dark now, with the city lights from afar shining through the slips of your blinds, illuminating slivers of his bare chest beside where your hands sat. you could feel his heartbeat, the way it calmed your already heightened senses as though your body recognised it was finally home.
“missed this.” you whispered into his ear, only snuggling closer to him.
jungkook’s grip, once on your waist, slid down to your ass once more. this time, his palm sat on your ass cheek, fingers digging into your skin whilst breathing you in.
“don’t say shit like that to me when i’m hard.” he grunted, a small smile forming across your lips. you hadn’t even done anything, not that you needed to to get jungkook bothered.
when you pulled him from your neck, his eyes were already glazed over, both of you taking a second to simply stare at one another in the exact way you had wanted for so long. his mouth parted, as his hooded eyes took you in, holding you closer, tighter.
within seconds, his lips touched yours.
slowly, at first, as though he was trying to relearn you after years of you being his. he savoured every moment of your lips against his, especially once you started to kiss him back, both of you uncertain in the beginning but once your hands began to find home in his hair, it was then that jungkook’s touch began to grow in confidence.
he kissed like a man starved, one hand buried in your hair too whilst the other continued to grip your ass possessively, as though physically feeling you was enough to have his mind go into overdrive. every small sound you made went straight to his cock as he swallowed your little sighs and whimpers, only pushing him to kiss you deeper and deeper and deeper.
he was growing desperate, pushing you down against the bed, half hovering over you as he rested on one arm, hand cupping at your thighs, your stomach, your knee. anything he could get his hands on all whilst his tongue explored your mouth as though he had every right.
perhaps he did because despite everything, the divorce and distance, the heartbreak - he still reacted to you like you were the only thing capable of fucking him up.
his lips eventually drifted from your mouth, pressing against your chin, your jaw and finally your neck. oh, this sweet, pretty little neck, he had dreams of marking it up and down every other night and the fact he had you in his arms now, in a bed far too small for the things he so desperately wanted to do to you was everything and more.
jungkook moved, properly hovering over you now just as you moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, pushing your top down your thighs and revealing your lace panties you had conveniently put on. just in case, of course.
he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths as you watched it break apart the further he pulled his head back. just staring at you hurt, with the way your cheeks had flushed and your hair was spread all across the pillow, and your thighs. fuck. the sight of what was between them had him openly groaning down at you.
“need you to tell me to stop baby, or i won’t be able to hold back.” he hissed down at you, feeling your legs tighten around him before he could finish his sentence.
your hands moved to the waistband of his shorts, eyes never leaving his as you tugged on it just slightly. jungkook, who’s two hands were on either side of your head, blinked down at you half in awe and other agony, the prospect of you teasing him in a moment like this his literal worst nightmare. you always knew how to make him impatient, said it was the best version of him.
he watched with bated breath as you grabbed one of his arms until his hand was in your own, slowly pushing it under your top to rest on your stomach. it felt heavy on your frame, large palm heating your already hot skin before you pulled him down, other arm wrapping around his neck.
“wanna feel you here, kookie.” you whispered into his ear.
jungkook nearly took you then and there.
his jaw flexed, a heavy leaving his lips as he chased your lips, planting another kiss. “yeah? want kookie deep inside?”
“mhm.” you hummed against him, placing your hand over his on your stomach.
“but haven’t taken me for so long, baby. might be too much.”
you closed your eyes at that - the way he cooed down at you despite telling you how easily he could ruin you, break you. it all felt like too much and yet the empty ache inside of you reminded you it wasn’t enough, causing you to merely nod.
“i don’t care. want it.”
the pout on your lips. fuck. jungkook thanked the gods he was a better man, more patient, especially knowing you were doing this on purpose.
“always used to struggle to take me, hm? fucked you open every night and you’d still cry.”
jungkook reached forward, lips on your neck once more but this time, his hips began chasing yours, grinding down almost harshly, causing you to feel every inch, every vein against the flimsy material you called panties. it was heavenly
your hands grabbed him by his biceps, smaller hands unable to wrap around the circumference of his skin. how could you forget your nights of passion? he would spend hours between your legs, so mean, orgasm after orgasm and he still wouldn’t feel satisfied, an insatiable man to his core. even on nights you’d argue, it would somehow end in you fucking which meant the last eight months had been utter hell.
your poor fingers couldn’t reach far enough and nothing brought you to an orgasm unless you thought of him, imagining it was own digits instead of your own.
silly you - if only you realised how similar you and jungkook were. he couldn’t get off unless he was on your instagram, staring at your pretty eyes and lips as he tugged on his cock with all of his energy, round after round after round only to be constantly dissatisfied. having you below him, so ready to be his again? it fucked with his head.
“you'll make it fit.” you whispered.
within mere moments, neither of you could wait. his shorts, alongside the large tshirt that originally belonged to him were on the floor, leaving you in your lacy panties alone. his boxers strained against his hardened length which oozed precum at the mere sight of you, hips bucking a little as you watched him groan out loud at the wet patch forming against the flimsy material.
“my pretty pussy.” he whispered, just as he parted your legs. his fingers pushed your panties to the side, almost hissing from how damp they were, knowing you must have been needy for a while. “missed her. you’ve been holding out on me, baby.”
your eyelashes fluttered up at him at the first touch of his fingers running up and down your slit. you let out an airy moan, barely audible, your body immediately easing back into the covers now that you could finally feel him on you.
he suckled on your neck whilst he circled your clit, knowing your body better than anyone. you were both so in tune with each other’s wants and needs that an eight month break between you both meant nothing when he bit against the sweet spot on your neck all whilst applying more pressure.
you squeaked, nails digging into his biceps at the harshness of his fingers.
“fuck, you’re so needy.” he grunted, pulling away from your neck after leaving a hefty purple bruise. “not been touching your pussy the way it needs.”
“doesn’t feel..” you moaned louder. “doesn’t feel good if you don’t do it.”
his eyes almost rolled back at that. “yeah? need kookie to be the one to touch you?”
“mhm.”
at that, he pulled his hand away only resulting in a loud whine from you. so cruel, to have been given a taste, only to have it pulled away from you.
your positions, however, suddenly changed as jungkook realised the space on the bed was much smaller compared to the bed you had once shared. he rested his back on your wooden bed frame before grabbing you properly, resting you in his lap against his too hard cock, spreading your legs wide.
your back was against his chest, all whilst he caged you in, his fingers returning to your cunt immediately.
this new position had you so much more exposed, as he pushed your thighs apart, index finger circling your hole before slowly pushing inside. your eyebrows furrowed, watching him with a shake to your breath as he took his time, knowing a single one of his was the equivalent of two or three of your own - a though that had him wanting to fuck into you already.
the loud moan that left your lips once he fully inserted it was enough to have him kissing at your temple, cooing.
“like that?”
“feels big.” you whispered back with a shake, feeling him pump in and out.
at that, jungkook thought he was ready to fucking cum. even your pussy was as sweet as you were - too big? one finger and you were already fucked out, but he knew he had to stretch you to accommodate him, a thought that brought a nasty little smirk on his face.
“gotta fuck you open, baby. always so tight.” he continued to coo at you, all as you looked up at him, his finger being joined with another.
soon enough, he was roughly fingering you, all whilst you both maintained eye contact, often breaking it just to share a kiss as though neither of you could get closer to the other. the feeling of him inside you, just like you had become used to for so many years after months apart was the definition of pleasure, your eyes hooded with each pump.
“feels s’good.” you slurred slightly, chest heaving.
he watched your breasts, your bed squeaking with each passing movement and he fucking loved it. loved having your eyes on him, loved having your tits bounced everytime he’d fuck you open a little harder, your sweet moans filling the space.
you could feel how hard he was, but everytime you tried to turn to pleasure him too, he’d merely hold you tighter, as though your orgasm was the only objective on his mind. he wanted to eat you out, fuck - the thought had him all but growling at you but he knew he’d never last, promising himself he’d save that for later tonight.
“wish you knew how many times i’ve dreamt about this.” he grunted down at you, as he watched your thighs try to close from the onslaught of pleasure, only for him to widen them immediately. “i’m constantly fisting my cock thinking about you. at work, at home, in the fucking car.”
“what do you think about?” you pressed desperately, needing to hear it.
jungkook bared his teeth at you slightly, all whilst his pace quickened. “think about breeding you, pumping you full of cum till you’re begging me to stop. every morning, every night until you’re pregnant with our baby. you’d like that, hm?”
you could have sobbed. like was an understatement, your legs widening with each passing word as you nodded almost desperately at him, looking up and above where his head tilted down to watch you.
your eyes then fluttered shut at the image of him touching himself, almost shuddering out of relief at the thought of him so infatuated that he had to cum just to get you off of his mind. especially at work - the whole reason of your divorce being his dedication to his occupation and now knowing you had your affect on him there too? it was euphoric.
“think about you all the time.” you whimpered back at him, pout so cute he wanted to scream. “tried..fuck..tried to touch myself after the gala..but wasn’t enough.”
he watched as you shook your head up at him, one of your hands on his wrist as the same hand pumped faster inside of you at the admission. he cursed under his breath, letting out a deep exhale.
“should’ve told me. fuck, y/n. would’ve ruined you then, baby, you know that right?” he nuzzled into your cheek. “would’ve let you use me as much as you want.”
it was your turn to whimper under your breath, as your eyes shut tight at the familiar feeling in your stomach starting to creep up. it was shocking, how slowly it managed to creep on you, and yet you could feel every inch of its intensity, the first in a long time where you know you’d feel satisfied.
jungkook could feel you clenching, your too tight hole sucking him in desperately as a bid to have him go meaner on you, to which he was more than happy to oblige with. he grabbed your chin with his other hand, forcing your head back so you’d open your eyes again. he wanted to watch.
“eyes on me, pretty girl.”
you weren’t sure if it was the sweet way he cooed at you, or the brutal pace he was now forcing you to take but your orgasm hit you like a freight train. you let out a loud squeak as electricity fluttered through from your head to your toes, your hips rising whilst he continued to finger you through your high, hissing at how sexy you looked maintaining eye contact.
his pace didn’t lessen, devoted to longing out every hit of pleasure for as long as possible, your legs shaking as you pawed at his wrist, but he refused to stop. your body began falling into overstimulation, whining loudly as your weakened hands grabbed onto his, feeling him finally slow whilst he remained two fingers deep, pushed inside of you all the way to his knuckles.
he curled them one last time, causing a shaky breath to leave you before slowly removing them inch by inch.
the emptiness inside of you was horrible, a reminder of what else you wanted and how badly. your big eyes met his, only to watch him take his fingers press them against your pouted lips until they parted, your tongue wrapping around. you tasted yourself, a sweet sigh leaving his lips at the sight of you sucking so eagerly, his cock jolting harshly in his boxers.
“still don’t think you can take me right now.” he whispered down at you, other hand moved so it was openly cupping your pussy as a whole, palm brushing against your hypersensitive clit.
you jolted which each passing touch, breathing shaky before you took his fingers out of your mouth, saliva coating them where your slick once was.
“don’t care, kookie. i want it anyway.” you grumbled slightly, and he swore he had never loved you more.
it was your turn to move as you pulled away from his grasp, giggling a little to yourself at the look on his face once you put space between you, only to turn around, so you were laying on your stomach. he remained in his position, legs on either side of you allowing you to press your hand against his massive bulge.
oh, how you’d missed his cock.
you were as impatient as ever as you pulled his boxers down enough so that his fat cock could finally spring free, watching the way it tilted upwards at first, but its weight forced it down lower and lower until it was resting almost gently on your face.
he wanted to take a picture. wanted to make it his screen saver, your contact picture in his phone - he wanted it in his fucking wallet. his girl, eyes all hooded after being bratty for his cock? you were a minx and you didn’t even know it.
“don’t have a condom.” he found himself whispering at you, just as you began to pump him.
you tilted your head at him, hand unable to wrap around his length as you slowly teased his slit, fingers brushing against it just to him shudder. you watched his face, watched his very composure crumble before your very eyes all whilst he muttered something about a condom? your mind was barely working, still sensitive from the way he had made you cum and the horniness still in your stomach.
“why would i want you to wear a condom?” you whispered up at him, as though it was a little secret between you.
you watched his eyes darken in real time, narrowing down at you as both of his large hands grabbed the back of your head. you giggled, resting your cheek on his thigh whilst you continued to pump his cock, focusing on the tip just the way he liked it. the heaviness in your hand was what you missed the most, causing you to leave a little kiss to it on the mushroom tip, your fluttering eyes only driving him more and more insane.
he wouldn’t last like this. not with you staring up at him like that.
and so, he pulled your hair. you whimpered, pussy clenching as he pulled you up by your locks, your large eyes completely taken over by how rough he was being with you, no doubt being fuelled by the heightened emotions of the past two days. this was your favourite jungkook, secretly of course.
within seconds, you were on your back once more, all whilst he grabbed your hips and yanked you close to him. he dropped down to give you a kiss on your lips, savouring the taste and feel of you before beginning to rub his cock up and down your tight hole.
“my girl.” he whispered against your mouth. “no going back after this.”
your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of him teasing you, pushing the tip against your hole only to pull back the second it began inserting, rubbing it up and down and over your clit once more. he was a tease through and through, but you were too needy to see reason.
“don’t wanna go back, want it all.” you simply whimpered back.
your words were enough to finally have him pushing inside of you.
first, the tip. your face contorted to the familiar feel of his cock slowly inserting inside of you, your breath catching slightly at the sheer size of him - you struggled to take him even when your sex life was incredibly active, so you knew now that you hadn’t been touched for eight months, this was going to be hard.
you watched his face harden, all whilst your eyes slipped downwards to see him pushing further in, inch by inch, until your fingernails were puncturing the skin of his outer arms. he watched your face instead, willing himself not to cum at the way your jaw grew slack, big eyes only widening further at the too large cock settling in inside of you.
it was too much, too big, too at once. you couldn’t think, could barely see and yet you couldn’t pull yourself away from watching him bottom out even if you wanted to, a slight bulge evident where he sat deep inside of you. his large hand took a hold of yours and kissed it before pressing it against the bulge, only to rest his own right on top. applying pressure, he hissed at the way you let out a loud whimper, your cute thighs trembling around him.
“feel that?” he whispered down at you, nuzzling your nose to force you to look at him. “thats where i fucking belong. this pussy stretches so good for me every time.”
your lip was already trembling, a sight that had his cock throbbing deep inside of you as you clenched down on him hard. his cry baby - he loved seeing you teary during sex.
you were still adjusting as he began to move, causing you to squeal, but jungkook couldn’t wait anymore, not when he’d been dealt with blue balls for close to a year. you were the only option, pledging to live a life of fucking celibacy if you’d have chosen to never let him inbetween your legs again though the thought killed him inside. live a life without a taste of your sweet pussy? he’d sooner die.
“jungkook!” you slapped the tops of his biceps, as he continued his thrusting inside of you, nipping at your jaw, feeling his smirk against your skin.
the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you was intense, something you had been craving for so long now and yet now it was happening, you wanted more, and more and more and more and more. he loved this shy game you’d always play, always pretending like you couldn’t take it despite the fact your legs were widening further and you were moaning like a bitch in heat - it turned him on beyond words to know underneath the sweet persona, you were the filthiest slut he had ever known.
his pace was deep, mean but slow and it wasn’t enough, purposefully done to tease you for as long as he could, to ensure you’d stay needy. it was clearly working with the way your moans, whines and gasps filled the air only to be followed with a long drawl of his name, face scrunched up so cute he wanted to fucking scream.
“c’mon, baby, you’re so good to me.” he cooed, continuing his slow thrusts. “just gotta ask if you want something.”
your eyes scrunched shut, whimpering at his words knowing he wanted you in ways that you had reminisced on for months, the feeling of him kissing the gummy part of your cunt something you had missed so much.
“want it properly, kookie.” you begged him, though you couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes flickering down to his neck as he continued his pace. “yeah? tell kookie how you want it.”
your fingers clung to his shoulders as he came down, arms now pressed on either side of your head as he nuzzled your nose with his own, actions too sweet given the sinful position he had you in.
your breathing was ragged, the feel of him inside you too much for your poor little mind to handle without breaking and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. you craved something harsher, meaner, more jungkook. neither of you had ever been ones for soft sex, always preferring it as needy as possible which only heightened considering the fact you were both so utterly obsessive when it came to the other.
you whined loudly as his actions came to a stop completely, now grinding against you whilst still being inside.
“just want you to fuck me properly.” you whimpered, lip quivering so much faster, hips lifting to meet his as a means to relieve yourself.
god. you were killing him.
“good girl.”
jungkook planted a single kiss to your lips, oddly sweet before pulling back, planting two more to your forehead and nose. you were ready to whine once more until you felt his hips pull back, only to thrust into you harshly.
you squealed as jungkook began his pace exactly how you craved it, exactly how you used to picture with your own fingers in your cunt, desperately trying and failing to replicate the feel. hard. fast. mean. rough.
your neighbours would no doubt complain tomorrow with the way your bed frame began pounding into the wall, his head pressed against yours as his thrusts began kissing your cervix. your legs shook around him, much to his enjoyment, all whilst he forced you to maintain eye contact, wanting so badly to see the affect he was having on you after he had been deprived of you for so long.
“fuck..there she is. that’s my girl.” he hissed down at you, not holding back, the sound of skin slapping against skin heavy in the room. “you don’t know how badly i missed you.”
“m-missed..ugh! missed you..too..” you managed to string together, salted tears now escaping your eyes as they streamed on either side of the pillow.
“pretty girl like you needs to be fucked mean. no good to be nice to you, huh?” he growled down at you, only causing your lip to quiver that much faster as you nodded. “can’t think unless it’s me bullying your pussy into an orgasm.”
your nods were paired with soft sobs as he pounded, ruining your soppy core just like you had wanted. you had dreamt of this, dreamt of him, genuinely believing you’d never reach this state of pleasure ever again in your life and yet here he was, coaxing it out of you to remind you that he’d never leave you again.
his thrusts were sloppier than usual, no doubt due to the extensive length between your last fuck but it only had you moaning and crying louder. the thought of the usually composed jeon jungkook a whining mess for you and you alone had you clamping down hard on his cock.
“can’t believe i let you leave me.” he grunted hard at the feel of you getting so tight, gritting his teeth as he pounded you further. “never again. you fucking hear me, y/n? you’re my wife forever.”
“promise?” you sobbed back, arms now wrapping around his neck as you tried to bring him impossibly closer, as though you could in any capacity.
he nipped at your bottom lip, moaning into your mouth at the way you all but begged him to make it a reality.
“gonna take you to the courthouse tomorrow, get you a nice dress and we do..fuck..we do this again, understand?” he closed his eyes the more you whined and whined. “gonna let me put that ring back on your fucking finger, baby?”
you nodded wildly, just as you felt your orgasm build up in your stomach again, whining loudly up at him in a way he recognised immediately. fuck, he had missed this so much - his angel girl, all needy, begging for it even though she could barely take it. he could feel his own coming on fast, causing him to pull his hand down and rub at your clit, hissing at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock harshly.
“c’mon baby. want you to cum on your husband’s cock, hm? gonna get you nice and round like you deserve.” his thrusts only got meaner. “move you back in. fuck this pussy every single day, just like you need.”
your high rushed through you at the exact point his did, your legs wrapping around his waist as a means to keep him inside. you could feel it all through your body, the way it seized up and bucked into him all whilst he continued his thrusts, fucking you through both of your orgasms.
your vision started growing dark, the intensity of it overwhelming as he rode out your highs whilst whispering soft i love you’s in your ear, cradling you to his chest, holding you closer than you’d ever felt him before.
everything after that completely blurred together.
you remembered jungkook taking care of you, tenderness laced into his very being as he held you like you were akin to a porcelain doll - sweet, so soft, so delicate. somewhere between the damp kisses pressed to your skin underneath the bubbling bath he had drawn for you both, to the continuous declarations of love muttered down at you; you realised that this was inevitable. he was inevitable.
there didn’t exist a reality where you both could live without one another - you knew that now.
even after the heartbreak, the divorce, the loneliness and the debilitating grief, you still found yourself exactly where you belonged. your cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat soothing you into a dreamlike state which paled in comparison to the reality that was now yours. his love had you wrapped so tightly you knew you’d never live without it again.
you were finally home.
—
this beast of a fic is finally done yay!!! i hope you guys love ex husband jungkook just as much as i do!
tried to make him less yandere in this one and more pathetic yearner lol but i may have slipped here and there 💔
i’d love to hear your thoughts on this - love hearing you guys after a fic drops so i’m excited to see what you all think!!!!
if you wanna help support me pay my disgusting, awful, horrific london rent, my kofi is linked <3
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A/n: first ever piece i ever wrote, has a lot of inconsistencies but hey we all gotta start somewhere. also english is not my first language so apologies for the errors.
You were just a maid. A mere maid.
But one who had caught the attention of the beloved princess of Obelia.
Was it caring for her that led to this or was it taking notice of little things or were you just an unlucky woman? Because never would you a mere peasant, hailing from generational poverty would have thought to ever become the concubine of the Emperor. Though, you were grateful for the opportunity to escape the poverty, but were uncertain of your new life as the only concubine of the Emperor.
You had always heard the maids gossiping over the little incidents amongst nobility that cost them their position in the Emperor's court and were beyond terrified.
You knew the second that the Emperor had sent his imperial decree to your modest home, announcing you to be his concubine, that your life's last days had began. You were grateful, yes, but you knew you could not let your guard down, not in front of the Princess and certainly not in front of the Emperor.
Especially, not in front of the Emperor.
Because if he had enough power to grant you the title of a concubine on a whim, then he had the power to decide to end your life on the same whim.
The day you entered the Ruby Palace was certainly a day to be remembered and not for the brightest reasons. Entering the Palace with an Imperial guard by your side, and seeing the shocked and anxious faces of your ex-colleagues made you guilty and scared. Guilty because amongst all others, you were the one who made it out given your rather mediocrity and scared because you didn't want them to be your 'servants'.
The same day, while being served tea by a junior maid, whom you recalled, always worked hard for her sister's education, you were poisoned.
Poisoned.
You will never forget the terrified and nonchalant faces of the Princess and the Emperor while blood trickled down from your chin and onto the dress that you wouldn't have even dreamt of wearing even in your wildest dreams.
You had thought then, that this was it and were ready to die with a smile, However, fate seemed to have other plans for you and you survived. When you woke up, the Imperial Doctor was by your side, his face to say the least, looked like as if he hadn't slept for days.
Apparently, you had been in a coma for exactly 21 days. Those 21 days, were hellish not just for the Imperial Doctor but for everyone, Upon your poisoning it was the Emperor that carried you to his palace. Not the Ruby Palace but his. The maid had been beheaded by the Crimson Knight on spot and your personal Imperial Guard was facing an execution, which was due in 2 days.
Having learnt all that, a grim sense of stillness surrounded you for you realised that for the Emperor there was no worth to the life of people who served him. That was where the seed of resentment was planted in your heart which would wholly consume you in the following years.
You had tried stopping the execution but were unsuccessful. You had even resorted to begging on your knees in front of both the Princess and the Emperor however still failed. Never in your life, would you have thought, that you might be responsible for deaths of people you barely knew.
From that incident, your ex-colleagues had began to fear you. It wasn't the grandest gestures that told you that you yourself had become the outcast in your own Palace. It was terrified glances, monotony and their hesitant nods amongst each other.
Overtime, you had stopped interacting with the outer world. You days consisted of tea parties with the Princess and the three uncomfortable meals of the day with the Emperor.
You had long stopped seeing the Princess, as the little girl who always used to tug on your skirt and ask for more chocolates but the orchestrator of the murder of your sanity and peace. It was petty, yes. But you needed someone to blame, and that was her.
It wasn't that they did not notice.
Your Princess, your little girl had noticed that you had stopped calling her by the very nickname you had come up with.
One day, she couldn't handle it anymore and broke down in front of you. With tears in her eyes and snot running down her nose, she asked you why you had stopped calling her Athy. You couldn't answer her and resorted to patting her head. Seeing her bloodshot eyes stirred something within you and you whispered the very name that might have been the one that started it all. Hearing the name, she had looked up and smiled so bright that it might have even put the brightest stars to shame.
That night, she had stayed at the Ruby Palace, snuggling to you as she slept, however you couldn't sleep, awake with the realisation, that the feeling that was stirred within you that made you call your Princess by her nickname, wasn't pity or love, it was plain fear.
Fear.
Fear of making the wrong move and ending up dead at the hands of the Emperor.
That same night after tucking the Princess, you went to the balcony of your palace with a bottle of wine and just sat on the railing, knowing very well that if you made the slightest of wrong movement, you could wind up dead, however that night fear of death seemed almost annoying to you, annoying like one would find a fly.
For a while, you just stared at the moon, but the tranquil silence was soon broken by the shouting of your name from the very man who had changed your life for better or worst, Seeing his frantic expression and fear made you want to laugh at his face. Laugh at how the mighty Emperor looked so stupid. Striding towards you he took the bottle from you and carried you bridal style all while the drunken you could only stare stupidly at his chiseled face.
You had no idea when you fell asleep but as soon as you woke up with a headache, your new guard, which was, The Crimson Knight, himself announced that the Emperor was going to appoint the new Empress. You remember the joy you felt, at the thought that maybe he might exile you or remove you as a concubine only for that hope to be met with the harsh reality of the fact that the new Empress, was in fact, going to be you.
The next few days were a blur to you and you soon found yourself clad in a nightgown that barely concealed anything. While you were a concubine, the Emperor had touched you in total two times. One was when you entered the Palace and the second was when had drank heavily and mistook you for the Princess' dead mother.
Your wedding night, was, diabolical. The emperor had taken you till the sun shone through the curtains. He might have had the stamina to continue but for you it was hellish. The next day, you couldn't get out of the bed. Your legs sore and your neck covered with his lovebites. You had thought that him taking you at your wedding night was going to be it however the Emperor had made it a mission to make love to you every night.
And maybe, during those times, you had grown closer that he asked you to call by his name and you agreed. Your days were simple: attending tea parties with your 'daughter', being taught by the professors Claude had called for you, exposing yourself to affairs of the Empire and being embraced by Claude at night.
However it didn't last long, because you soon were with a child. For the Empire, it was a joy but for you it was wrong, The whole pregnancy felt wrong, because deep down you knew you didn't want your child to be born in a dysfunctional family where their life would have been at risk everyday..
Maybe it was your detoriorating mental health or the blood of the Imperial lineage was too powerful to be mixed with your peasant blood, that you lost your child. It was traumatic but seeing the empty look in Claude's eyes and the hysterical sadness in Athy's eyes, did you finally thought that Claude might have known that you'll lose your child. He knew your child might not survive child birth yet he still went ahead and let everyone play house with you.
The silence in your chambers was thick and suffocating. The physicians had left, their murmured condolences and clucking sympathy were a distant buzz. The scent of medicinal herbs and blood lingered, a cruel reminder of the life that had vanished from within you.
But your eyes were not on the empty cradle. They were fixed on the Emperor.
Claude stood by the window, his back to you, his posture the same rigid, imperial line you had always known. Yet, the set of his shoulders spoke not of power, but of a profound and terrible exhaustion. The hysterical sobs of the Princess, Athanasia, had finally faded as her nanny, Lilian York, carried her away, leaving a void filled only with the echo of that shared grief.
He had known.
The thought was a cold, sharp shard of ice in your chest, numbing the physical pain. He had known, seen the potential for this devastation, and had chosen to let you hope anyway. Or perhaps he hadn't let you hope at all.
The man who had tenderly made love to you each night, who had whispered his given name against your skin like a secret prayer, was also the sovereign who played a calculated game with fate.
The duality was truly staggering.
"You knew," you whispered. The words weren't an accusation, but a statement of fact, raw and stripped bare. They hung in the air between you, the first crack in the beautiful, gilded cage he had built around you.
Claude did not deny it. He never lied. He simply…endured. "The Imperial bloodline is potent. It demands a vessel of equal strength," he said, his voice gravelly with a grief you now recognized as ancient. "There are…historical precedents. With Diana…" He stopped, the name of Athy's mother, his first lost 'love', hanging unspoken in the air between you.
The pieces crashed together in your aching mind. His frantic fear on the balcony the night you drank too much. His obsessive need to have you in his bed every night—not just for pleasure, but to feel you there, alive and breathing beside him. His focus on your education, on integrating you into the Empire's affairs—he wasn't just building an Empress. He was building a legacy for you, a purpose that would last beyond the role of mother.
He hadn't gambled with your life. He had been certain of it.
The gamble had been on the child.
"The child was the risk," you breathed, the revelation stealing what little air was left in the room. "You knew I would survive. You made sure of it."
He looked at you then, truly looked at you, and the mask of the impassive Emperor crumbled completely. In its place was the raw, terrifying visage of a man haunted.
"I will not lose another," he said, his voice low, stripped of all imperial authority, leaving only a desperate, possessive truth. "I will not stand over another dead body. The physicians, the magic, every resource of this Empire was dedicated to one purpose: your survival. The child…" He glanced at the empty cradle, and a flicker of profound sorrow crossed his face. "The child was a hope. A possibility I dared to entertain because you gave me the courage to hope again. But you were never the gamble. You were the prize I refused to lose."
The world tilted on its axis. His actions, which moments before seemed like the ultimate betrayal, now revealed themselves as the twisted, desperate logic of a man shattered by loss and put back together with a love that was terrifyingly protective.
He had not been playing house. He had been building a fortress around you, with his own body as the wall. Every night he took you was a reaffirmation that you were alive, you were his, and you were safe in his arms. The pregnancy, while a joy, must have been nine months of sheer terror for him, a constant battle between hope and his grim certainty of how these stories often end.
Your fear of being an apathetic mother, your feeling that it was wrong—he might have even sensed it.
You flinched back as he took a step toward the bed, but this time it wasn't from betrayal. It was from the overwhelming weight of his truth. The love he offered wasn't simple or gentle; it was a storm, a possessive, all-consuming force that had calculated the odds and decided the world itself was a worthy sacrifice if it meant keeping you in it.
He froze at your recoil, and you saw not an Emperor challenged, but a man terrified that his salvation had just slipped through his fingers.
"You killed our child", you had whispered with such hatred in your voice that it shocked even you.
Your survival was assured. But in that moment, you understood the true cost. You were his anchor, his second chance. The burden of that was heavier than any crown. Could you bear it? Could you love a man whose love was so deeply intertwined with the ghost of another and the terrifying shadow of his own past?
The burden of his truth was a shackle, which desperately clung to you.
You had simply realized it, you weren't someone he was in 'love' with, you were his second chance, his salvation from a past tragedy. But in saving you, he had erased you. Your fears, your doubts, your feeling that it was all wrong—they were all secondary to his monumental need to not lose again.
The love he offered was a smothering blanket, and you were drowning in its warmth.
Over the following months, you had gotten better and started performing your duties again. You smiled for Athy, whose own grief was a mirror of your own, a bond that now felt more like a chain. You let Claude hold you at night, his arms an iron cage of protection, every touch a reminder that your body was a testament to his will, not your own. You were the preserved prize, and your heart was the cost of preservation.
The breaking point was small. A physician’s visit, a routine check-up. He mentioned, offhandedly, that your body was strong, perfectly capable of bearing another child. That the Emperor was already consulting with alchemists to ensure the next pregnancy would be even more secure.
The next pregnancy.
You looked at Claude, who watched the physician with intense, focused approval. You saw not a hopeful father, but a general preparing for a campaign he had previously lost.
That night, in your shared chambers, you finally spoke the truth that had been curdling inside you.
“I cannot do it again, Cla-Your Majesty.”
He turned from the window, his expression softening into what he believed was reassurance. “You will not have to. The next time, everything will be different. I will make certain of it.”
“You do not understand,” you said, your voice hollow. “I don’t want to. I am not a vessel for your legacy. I am not a replacement for Diana. I am myself, and I am simply tired.”
A flicker of impatience crossed his face. It was the Emperor, not the man Claude.
“This is the price of our positions. This is the duty of an Empress. Your feelings are a luxury we cannot afford.”
A luxury. Your grief, your terror, your autonomy—they were luxuries.
In that moment, you saw the future with perfect, devastating clarity. There would be another pregnancy, another nine months of being treated as a fragile, priceless incubator, another potential loss that would shatter what was left of you, or worse, a living child you would be too broken to love. You would live a long, safe, miserable life as the central piece in Claude’s collection of beloved, lost things.
You had faced the fear of death at his hands and found it annoying. Now, you faced the reality of life under his love and found it unbearable.
The following day, you waited until he was in a council meeting and after having a soulful conversation with your 'daughter', that was in a way, a pitiful attempt at a goodbye from you. You went to the highest tower of the palace. You did not look down. You looked at the sky which was vast and free with a smile.
And then you stepped into it.
The fall was not a flight to freedom. It was a refusal. The ultimate wrong move, chosen deliberately.
You jolt upright in your bed, heart hammering and cheeks wet with tears you don’t understand.
It’s the same dream. Always the same. A fall. A feeling of final sadness. And a pair of cerulean blue jeweled eyes, filled with a grief so profound it feels like it belongs to you.
Being a junior editor for a small publishing company your life is completely normal, maybe a little lonely, but it’s yours.
Your new assignment is a manuscript. The translated diary of a handmaiden from a forgotten Empire.
The story is about them. A cold, powerful Emperor named Claude. His bright, motherless daughter, Athanasia. And the Empress he loved too fiercely. The diary tells of the Empress' humble beginnings, her arrival, her laughter and her relationship with the princess. It tells of her pregnancy.
Her misery.
You read, your coffee gone cold, a strange, hollow feeling in your chest. It feels… familiar. The descriptions of the palace corridors, the scent of the gardens. It’s just a good story, you tell yourself. A very well-written one.
You turn the page. The entry is brief. It describes the Empress’s death. Her suicide. The Emperor’s complete and utter shattering. How he became a true ghost, colder and more merciless than ever before. How the little princess, Athanasia, never smiled again.
And then you see the illustration tucked into the manuscript. A sketch, done by the handmaiden, of the lost Empress. It’s stylized, faded, but unmistakable.
It’s you.
You stare at your own face from a thousand years ago. The same eyes, the same curve of your smile. A life, a love, a tragedy you have no memory of, but that your soul seems to weep for every night.
You leave your house in a daze, the manuscript clutched to your chest. You cross the street, your mind reeling, trying to reconcile your mundane reality with the epic tragedy you’ve just read.
You don’t see the truck.
The impact is swift and brutal. There is no pain, only a sudden, shocking silence.
And as the light fades, your final sight is not of the cross-section, but of a dark, opulent bedroom. A man with jeweled eyes is holding you, but not the you of now. The you of then. He is weeping, his regal composure utterly destroyed, begging a name you now know was yours to stay.
You understand, in the last second of your second life, that you didn't escape. You simply delayed the ending.
Your souls are intertwined, destined to find each other across lifetimes, only to be torn apart by the same tragic fate.
You are forever his lost Empress, and he is forever the love that destroyed you. The cycle is eternal. And this time, you have simply broken his heart all over again.
˖᯽ ݁˖ 🧁 𓂃 ₊ ⊹ AHHH thank you SO much for 1000 followers i’m so grateful!! when i’d first started this account i hadn’t even planned on writing nor posting fanfiction and yet here i am with 1k now, i love you all lots!! (,,>ヮ<,,)
to celebrate, here’s a mini event — i decided to do a mini series, with nine separate short fics plus your own reqs (see the end for details)!! ᜊ𐔌๑ ´ ˔ ` ꒱੭
content: jjk men x f!reader, jjk men as dads, fluff, slice of life, girl dad gojo, dad toji & baby megumi, uncle sukuna & baby yuji
❥ satoru gojo and his baby daughter:
01 - glasses!
02 - him and your daughter baking together
03 - mini influencer
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❥ toji fushiguro and baby megumi:
01 - shadow puppets
02 - megumi is a picky kid!
03 - when pranking baby megumi goes wrong
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❥ ryomen sukuna and nephew yuji:
01 - yuji getting a flu shot
02 - yuji’s first play date
03 - fishing with uncle ’kuna!
❥ your choices:
⊹🐰 ࣪ ˖ asides from the nine listed above, i’d love to let you guys request your own chapters for this series!! before requesting, please check out the RULES & DEADLINE!
01 - girldad!nanami headcanons
02 - dad!toru and his daughters caring for you whilst you’re sick
03 - girldad!suguru with a newborn baby daughter (ft. mimiko & nanako)
04 - girldad!gojo with a daughter who’s interested in jujutsu society
05 - tbc
thank you once again for 1k and i really look forward to this event! i hope you enjoyyy<3
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