jungkook had a different aura in him.

it wasn’t just his physicality—though he was muscular and bulky enough to get constant attention.

it was the energy he carried.

that intensity that made your heart race without permission.

jungkook was your brother's best friend and a tattoo artist along with a piercer who owned a shop.

jungkook had a good name.

he had several tattoos himself that you ached to touch also his piercings which were no less captivating.

jungkook was intimidating to most, always carrying a scowl that was like his natural expression now.

he also had a reputation of being rude and grumpy.

but with you?

he was different.

softer somehow though he'd never admit it.

his dark eyes would linger on you for a bit too long and the way he spoke your name.

it was subtle sure.

but you noticed—god did you notice.

it was like he was fighting himself every time you were near.

and you wanted to know why.

you'd met jungkook a few years ago and you'd been smitten from the moment you saw him leaning against his bike outside your house.

a cigarette between his lips

he'd looked at you then with his piercing eyes and since then you'd felt the spark between you both.

you didn’t know how to explain it.

jae, your older brother never suspected a thing.

he didn’t notice the way jungkook’s jaw clenched when you walked into the room or the way his body reacted immediately when you even glanced at him.

he didn’t see the way jungkook’s eyes tracked your every move.

like a predator watching his prey

only to look away when you caught him staring

but you saw it all.

you felt each of his eyes almost like a physical touch.

you'd caught him staring countless times—when you were curled on the couch with a book or when you were focused on something.

even when you were simply existing.

each time his expression would harden like he was angry at himself for looking and he'd turn away.

even if he couldn’t help it.

you'd always had a crush on him though you'd never dared say it out loud.

how could you?

he was jungkook—your brother's best friend and most importantly he was untouchable.

he treated you like you were still a kid, sometimes teasing you about your untied shoelaces or that one time when you tripped over your own feet.

“you’re so clumsy, doll.”

but he'd drop to one knee to tie your laces.

he always did that.

also hearing the nickname made you seethe.

you hated it.

it made you feel small like he saw you as nothing more than jae's sister but there was something else in the way he said it.

the roughness in his voice, it made your thighs clench.

it was confusing.

maddening even.

the way he made you feel.

he'd also pick you up from your university campus sometimes, either because jae asked him to or because he'd volunteered without explanation.

you lived for those moments.

you'd straddle his bike, your arms wrapped around his waist and you'd hold onto him a little tighter than necessary.

your fingers brushing his hard abs through his shirt.

he'd barely speak during those rides but you felt the tension in his body from having you so close.

it was torture.

being so close to him yet so far.

knowing he yearned for you but refused to act on it.

you'd tested him over the years.

pushing his buttons.

you'd wear the smallest shorts you owned when you knew he'd be at the house—the ones that hardly covered the curve of your ass.

one night you'd taken it too far when jungkook and jae were in the living room with beers in hand, talking about some new tattoo jungkook was working on.

you'd walked in wearing a tiny skirt and a t-shirt with no bra beneath it.

you bent over to pick up a pen from the coffee table, knowing full well the angle gave jungkook a clear view of your panties.

the way it hugged your pussy.

your folds visible.

you then heard the loud crack of glass shattering and you gasped and turned to see jungkook staring at the broken glass in his hand.

his knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping it, his hand bloody.

you gulped and backed off, almost guilty for playing with him like that because you didn’t expect such a reaction.

jae laughed oblivious, assuming jungkook was just being destructive since he was a workout freak.

but you saw the truth in jungkook's eyes—raw desire.

“watch it.”

he glares, warning you.

the tension between you had been building for years.

it was in the way he’d hover near you or offer to fix things around the house when jae wasn’t home.

just to have an excuse to be near you.

but you knew.

you knew he was obsessed with you just as you were with him.

you were tired of it.

the teasing, the distance and the way he kept you at arm's length.

you wanted to break his restraint to push him until he couldn’t hold back anymore.

because you were a girl who always got what she wanted.

and you wanted him.

today you were done with all the hide and seek bullshit.

it was time for the real game.

you'd decided to visit jungkook's tattoo shop with a plan.

you'd been thinking about getting nipple piercings for a while, something that would be only noticeable to you under your clothes.

it would make you feel powerful.

but you'd be lying if you said you weren’t doing this to get under jungkook's skin.

you wanted to see how far you could push him before he snapped.

you dressed in a tiny black skirt that was almost like a belt, short enough that one wrong movement would expose your thong.

you paired it with thigh high stockings and wore a tight crop top, the neckline low enough to reveal your cleavage.

you looked like trouble.

and you were very aware.

you looked at yourself in the mirror and paused, your heart pounding with nervousness and excitement.

you were so ready.

the shop was buzzing with people when you walked in with clients getting tattoos and some sitting around.

mark jungkook's assistant was at the front and he grinned when he saw you.

mark was always a flirt with you every time you visited the shop.

but he wasn’t jungkook.

no one was.

“y/n!” mark called.

his eyes raking over your outfit with surprise since he wasn’t used to seeing you like this.

“didn’t expect to see you here. finally ready for the date with me?”

you tilted your head, letting your hair fall over one shoulder, knowing it drew attention.

“maybe?”

you said sarcastically.

that’s when you felt jungkook before you even saw him, the air growing heavier as he stepped out from the back room.

his eyes locked onto you instantly, already pissed at the way you're practically half naked.

“y/n.”

he almost growled as he stepped toward you.

his tongue ran over his lip piercing and you couldn’t help but stare at it, imagining how it would feel against your skin.

“what the hell are you doing here?”

you didn’t flinch at his tone but lifted your chin instead.

“well… i wanted to see you.”

your voice sassy.

“and i want a piercing.”

his eyes narrowed.

“a piercing?” he repeated.

“what kind?”

you held his gaze, your lips curling into a smirk.

“nipple piercings.”

the shop seemed to go still as jungkook's expression darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line.

and for a moment you thought he might drag you out of the shop right then and there.

“are you fucking serious?”

he steps closer until he towers over you.

“you’re not thinking straight, y/n.”

“i’m completely serious.” you shot back.

your arms crossed which only pushed your breasts out further, drawing his eyes to your cleavage before he forced them back up to your face.

“i’ve been thinking about this for months. i wouldn’t be here if i wasn’t sure.”

he stepped even closer, his breath hitting your face which sent a shiver down your spine.

“you don’t just walk in here and decide that. you need to think it through y/n it’s permanent. it’s not like buying a new skirt or some shit.”

you were filled with irritation and you stepped into his space, refusing to back down.

“i’m not a kid, jungkook.”

“it’s my body and i get to decide what i do with it, not you.”

fury simmered beneath his expression.

“you’re being impulsive.” he snapped.

his voice rising slightly, drawing a few glances from the other clients.

“you don’t know what you’re asking for and you’re not doing this just to fuck with me.”

you tilted your head, your smile turning challenging.

“and what if i am?” you ask

his nostrils flared and you thought he might lose it.

but before he could respond, you turned to mark who had been watching the exchange with amusement.

“if jungkook doesn’t wanna do it, maybe you can.”

you wink at him before your eyes flick to jungkook to see his reaction.

“you do most of the work around here anyways right mark?”

mark's grin widened with mischief.

“hell yeah, i can do it.”

he pushed off.

“nipple piercings are my specialty. and you know i can make it special for you, babe.”

mark whistled.

jungkook's hand shot out before mark could take another step, grabbing your wrist and pulling you flush against him.

you squealed as your body press against the hardness of his chest

he gripped you but not hard enough to hurt.

“no one’s touching you.” he grits out.

“if you’re doing this, it’s with me and that’s final.”

your heart skipped a beat as you looked up at him.

you could see the emotions raging within him.

“jungkook…” you started.

but he cut you off, his hand sliding to your waist.

“let’s go.”

he left no room for argument as he turned, pulling you toward the back of the shop as you stumbled in your heels.

struggling to keep up with his fast strides

as you both entered the room, he shut the door behind you loud enough to make you jump.

locking it.

leaving only you and him.

the room was a bit dark, smelling of antiseptic with shelves of several supplies and an adjustable reclined chair in the center.

he released you and stepped back.

“why are you doing this, y/n?” he asked.

his voice calm now but still laced with concern.

“is this about proving something to me? what's going on?”

you swallowed.

“it’s not about proving anything.” you breathe.

“listen to me… you’re perfect the way you are. you don’t need to get anything, sweetheart.”

your breath shook at his words.

“but i want to.”

“i’ve wanted nipple piercings for a while. they're sexy and they'll make me feel confident.”

he studied you for a long moment, his eyes searching your face looking for any doubt.

“you’re sure about this?” he whispers

“completely sure? because there’s no going back.”

“i’m sure.”

you nodded despite the nervousness in your chest.

“i want this. i want you to do it.”

his jaw clenched but he nodded, turning to prepare his tools. you watched as he pulled out a pair of black latex gloves.

snapping them onto his hands with a sound that made your stomach flutter for some reason.

as he grabbed other items like needle, wipes and more.

he'd done this several times before but there was a slight tremor in his fingers as he arranged the items as if he was fighting to keep his composure in your presence.

“lay down.”

he orders gruffly.

you obeyed settling and your skirt rode up slightly as you did exposing more of your thighs.

you could feel his eyes on you and when you looked up, you saw his gaze on your exposed skin and his adam's apple bobs as he swallowed.

“take off your top.”

it was like he was forcing the words out.

“and your bra.”

your breath hitched but your trembling fingers reached for the hem of your crop top and pulled it over your head.

and then you unhooked your bra and let it fall to the floor, leaving you bare from the waist up.

your heart pounded so loud you could hear it in your ears or you were sure jungkook could hear it in the silence.

for the first time you were exposed in front of him.

you felt vulnerable...

and now the confidence and sassiness you held from before seemed to fade and you wanted to cower.

jungkook froze, his eyes fixed on your tits, his eyes dilating as he took you in.

his hands fisted at his sides and it made your skin tingle, your nipples hardening into sharp points under his gaze and also the cold air.

“what?” you asked.

tears welling in your eyes as you misread him being quiet.

your insecurities hitting you.

“do you… do you not like what you see?”

his head snapped as he glared.

“don’t say that.” he grunts.

“don’t you dare think that. you're perfect y/n—too fucking perfect. that’s the problem.”

tears streamed down your cheeks at his words.

“then why do you always push me away?” you whimpered.

“you act like i’m just jae’s little sister like i don’t know what i want when i’ve wanted you for years, jungkook.”

he lets out a harsh breath, running his hand through his hair before tugging it in frustration.

“you don’t get it, y/n.” he pleads.

“you’re my best friend’s sister. i can't—shit i can't do this to him or to you. i’ve been trying to stay away and keep my hands off you but you make it so fucking hard.”

his expression wounded.

“every time you’re near me, i’m dying doll. i’m fucking dying.”

you stood closing the distance between you, your bare chest brushing his as you fisted his shirt.

“then stop trying.”

you're shaking with need and years of pent up longing.

“i don’t want you to be good, jungkook. i want you to want me.”

his hand shot out, gripping your hair and pulling you close making you gasp.

“you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

he hisses as his face was inches from yours.

he didn’t wanna hold back any of his feelings or confessions.

everything came out.

“i’ve been obsessed with you since the day i met you, y/n. i can't get you out of my head. i wanna make you mine. but let me tell you one thing…”

he paused and looked at you intently.

“if i touch you i give in, i won’t be able to stop. and i don’t know if you’re ready for that.”

“then don’t stop.”

you rush out desperately.

“i’m ready, jungkook. always have been.”

for a second you thought he might push away and retreat like he always had but then his lips crashed against yours.

it was full of want and frustration.

he didn’t waste any time before his tongue forced itself into your mouth in a way that made your knees weak.

you moaned into his mouth, your hands pulling at his shirt wanting him closer.

needing more and more

it was like he was a wild starved animal who was given food after so long.

you couldn’t keep up with his mouth as his hands roamed all over your body, squeezing your ass to his liking.

he bites and sucks on your tongue, your breasts squished against his chest.

when you finally pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours.

both your breaths mingling

“you’re gonna ruin me, baby.”

he mutters brokenly as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs.

he hates seeing you cry.

especially when he's the reason for your tears.

you smile breathlessly as jungkook slowly pushes you back.

“now sit back down.” he rasps.

“we’re doing this y/n, but it’s gonna be my way.”

you were filled with nerves and anticipation as you lay back on the reclined chair.

he loomed over you, his shadow covering you completely because of how big he was and the size difference between you and him always turned you on.

it made you feel small yet your clit throbbed for him.

“i’m gonna mark you first.” he said.

“stay still, y/n. i’m serious.”

you nodded shakily as he leaned close and his gloved fingers brushed against your areola.

a whimper escaped your lips as he drew two dots with the marker, one on either side of your nipple.

the sensation was ticklish, your thighs pressing together even more to soothe the ache between them.

jungkook's eyes snapped up to yours at your noise, lust in them.

“you can’t make sounds like that. you're gonna make this hard for me, baby.”

“s—sorry,” you whisper.

knowing very well it was a lie

and he knew it.

you held his gaze biting your lower lip bashfully as you shifted slightly, which caused your skirt to ride up and reveal your thong.

the wet patch there visible for him.

his gloved hands flexed as he fought the urge to pin you down and take what he wanted.

he took a deep breath, steadying himself as he checked if the marks were on point, his fingers brushing your nipple directly now.

your body arched slightly off the chair.

it was overwhelming.

the gloves amplified every touch making your skin feel hypersensitive, every brush of his fingers was like he was touching your pussy.

your nubs so hard that it almost hurt.

“mm... such a needy little thing.” he rasps.

he spent longer than necessary on your nipple, his gloved fingers rolling the sensitive bud between them.

pinching lightly then harder, watching every reaction you gave him.

“ah!”

you yelped at a particularly hard pinch as you squirmed.

unable to be still.

“look at you.”

a slow smirk curls on his lips.

“so fucking sensitive. you love this don’t you? love me playing with these.”

you signed, your cheeks burning with his words but you couldn’t deny the truth.

“yes.”

“jungkook, please…”

his fingers flicking your nipples fast enough to make you cry out.

“you want more hmm? want me to make you feel good?”

“yes.”

you moaned loudly.

“please jungkook, i need you.”

he groaned, his brows furrowing as his lips brushed your ear.

“why are you so perfect, huh?” he growls.

“always making me lose my shit”

his fingers continued their torture, rolling and tugging your nipples until you couldn’t be still anymore as he switched to your other nipple.

repeating the same process.

“be still before i tie you down.”

his angry words made you still as you looked at him, your chest heaving quickly.

he suddenly stopped not wanting to give you any relief before he got the main job done.

finally he picked up the needle.

“okay, doll.”

“deep breath. this is gonna hurt but i've got you. you trust me, right?”

“always.” you whisper.

your eyes locked on his, your trust in him unshakable.

he was about to mark your body.

it felt like a permanent claim.

because it was.

he was permanent for you.

he nodded before he focused on positioning the needle against the marked spot.

“breathe in.”

you followed his words, your hand gripping the chair bracing yourself.

“and out.”

as you exhaled, the needle pierced through and a cry tore out of your throat at the sharp pain.

the pain was fleeting, replaced by a feeling that made your head spin.

jungkook's free hand was on your shoulder caressing the skin there, wanting to distract you from the pain.

“that’s it you’re doing so good, baby. just breathe.”

he worked quickly, threading the silver barbell through the piercing and securing it.

“one down.”

his voice tight like he was feeling the pain you were in.

as if it hurt him more.

“you okay, doll? talk to me.”

“yeah.” you get out.

tears falling steadily.

“it hurts but… i'm okay. i can do this.”

he smiled genuinely, leaning down to peck your lips.

“i know you can. you’re my strong girl.”

“one more, okay? you’ve got this.”

his words gave you strength as he pierced your other nipple and you couldn’t stop the sob that left your lips.

but jungkook was there immediately trying to quicken the process.

“shh... you’re doing so good for me. almost there.”

when the second barbell was in place, your body buzzed with adrenaline and desire.

your nipples throbbing with pain and pleasure.

you didn’t know you were such a masochist until this very moment.

you looked down at your new piercings and gasped at what they looked like.

they were exactly what you'd wanted—different, bold, yet sexy.

jungkook stepped back, his eyes not leaving your tits and you could see the way his eyes were fully blown wide black with need.

the way his jeans strained against the bulge that was impossible to hide.

“you look… incredible. those piercings.. goddamn they suit you so well.”

“you make it so hard for me to control myself.” he scoffs.

you stood and slowly closed the distance between you.

“then show me.” you murmur.

“show me how much you want me, jungkook.”

his lips met yours again messily as he carefully avoided your new piercings, not wanting to hurt you as he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

you yelp as he broke the kiss, his tongue coming out to soothe the spot on your lips.

“i’ll show you exactly what i want.”

he says angrily.

almost crazy.

and you felt the exact way as you tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

“take it off.”

you pulled at it and he obliged, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his tattooed muscular body.

your lips parted as your eyes traced his tattoos.

you’ve seen him shirtless sometimes when he would hang out with your brother during summer but you never got the chance to see them up close.

each one of them was a masterpiece and you wanted to know all their stories.

but that’s when your eyes stopped over a tattoo right over his heart and you realized that it was your birthdate in roman letters.

you were speechless for a moment.

wondering if you were seeing it wrong as your fingers brushed over the ink.

“jungkook…”

tears welled in your eyes again.

“when did you?”

“a year ago.”

your glistening eyes met his.

“i knew it was wrong, but i—i couldn’t help it… i needed a piece of you with me always even just like this.”

your felt like your heart was going to burst as you leaned in, pressing your lips to the tattoo kissing it softly.

your tears falling on his skin.

your tongue came out, gliding over the letter and his hand gripped your hip tightly.

“fuck y/n… what are you doing to me?”

your teeth nipped lightly at the tattoo.

“i love you.”

you couldn’t hold back anymore.

his eyes flashed and he cupped your face, pulling you into another kiss.

slower this time.

full of everything he'd been holding back for years.

“i love you too.”

he said sincerely.

“always have, always will.”

his face buried into your neck leaving open mouthed kisses, stopping to suck at the spot that makes you writhe.

your head falls back as he leaves a hickey, your hand gripping his shoulder.

marks soon bloomed across your collarbone and shoulder.

all his self control gone.

he dropped to his knees before you, his hands parting your thighs.

and the sight before you made your heart stutter, you'd imagined this exact scene so many times—him on his knees for you.

as you touched yourself in your lonely nights.

his gloved hands slid up your thighs, pushing your tiny skirt up until it was bunched around your waist.

the exposure made you shiver as his intense eyes drank you in before his eyes met yours, seeking your permission without words.

you nodded shakily.

he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your thong and slid them down your legs and your bottom lip quivered as he tucked the damp fabric into his pocket.

“i’m keeping these.”

a wicked smirk on his lips.

“a little reminder of this moment yeah?”

your cheeks were on fire as you averted your gaze, not being able to hold his too long.

he spread your thighs as far as they would go, revealing your dripping pussy to his hungry gaze.

the cool air hits your core making your hips twitch instinctively.

“fuck, just look at you…” he grunts.

his eyes locked on the way you clench for him, he could smell your sweet arousal even from the distance.

he couldn’t believe he finally had you like this.

“all spread out for me, just begging for my tongue.”

the degrading words turned you on further.

“jungkook.” you whined.

“please…”

“please what, doll?” he stressed

his gloved fingers brushing your swollen folds and the feel of the latex against your most sensitive part felt too much.

his touch featherlight barely there, as your hips bucked for more but he pulled back.

enjoying teasing you.

making you beg for him.

as if he already hadn’t done that for all these years.

“use your words, baby. tell me what you want.”

“i want your mouth.” you gasped.

“please i need you to—to eat me out.” you stammered.

he lets out a guttural groan as his breath brushes against your pussy making you writhe.

“you’re gonna kill me saying shit like that.” he mutters.

“you have no idea how long i’ve dreamed of this doll, of tasting your sweet cunt and feeling you cum on my tongue.”

his lips brushed against your inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way closer to your pussy while you trembled with each kiss.

he left hickeys on your thigh.

he was like a beast savoring you and you were losing your mind, your hand pulling your own hair.

“look at you, so desperate and i haven’t even touched that pussy yet.”

you let out a high pitched whine.

“mhmm, don’t tease me. i can’t take it.”

“ohh you can take it.”

he hums against your thigh.

“you’re gonna take everything i give you doll and you’re gonna take it good.”

that’s when his tongue flicked against your clit and you arched with a moan as his lips closed around your clit sucking gently.

then harder.

faster.

the metal of his lip piercing brushed against your sensitive bud as your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head.

“ah mmhm oh god, jungkook!”

you gripped his hair as he went on, alternating between sucking your clit and flicking it with his tongue.

he used his fingers to keep your folds parted for him.

it was already overwhelming you from his skilled mouth and he slid one gloved finger inside you.

your thighs trembled.

“dammit.” he growls.

the vibration against your pussy sends another wave of pleasure through you.

“yes, yes.”

your voice breaks as his finger curls inside you hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars.

“it feels so good.”

you couldn’t take the assault, your thighs closing on their own around his head but he held you open with his free hand.

devouring you.

he added a second finger stretching you further and you let out a wail, your hips bucking against his face.

you chased more of him grinding on his tongue and he let you use him like your personal sex toy.

he lets out hums of approval.

“mhmm hahh..”

you murmured incoherent words as his nose brushed against your clit, all while his fingers pumped in and out of you.

“you taste so fucking good.” he rasps.

his lips brushing your entrance as he spoke

“can’t believe i stayed without this for so long. i could eat this pussy all damn day and make you cum over and over until you're begging me to stop.”

his tongue lapped at your slit.

“what do you say doll? gotta make up for the lost time right?”

your hands tugged harder at his hair, pulling him closer to you as you looked at him with glassy eyes.

your body responding to each of his filthy words.

“you should.” you panted.

he chuckles darkly and before he could dive back in, your phone rang cutting through the haze of tension.

your frowned as you glanced at the screen to see jae's name.

your heart stopped as panic hit you but jungkook didn’t stop, his fingers curling rhythmically inside you.

“pick it up.” he demands.

you shook your head but he reached for the phone, forcing it into your hands.

“do it.”

there was a challenge in his eyes.

“tell him you’re not coming home tonight.”

you looked at him like he had grown two heads but you knew you couldn’t escape his orders so with trembling hands you answered the call.

“h—hey jae.” you managed

your breath hitches slightly as jungkook twists his fingers.

“where are you?” your brother asked.

“it’s late. you coming home soon?”

“u—um ah—”

you quickly covered your mouth, hoping to stifle your noises, pleading with jungkook with your eyes but didn't seem to care.

relishing in watching you struggle and the fact that you could get caught so easily.

“is everything okay? why do you sound breathless?”

jae asks a bit suspiciously.

“everything’s fine!”

you rush out, letting out a squeaky laugh.

mortified that he could hear you.

“i... i’m staying with a friend tonight. you know girls’ night.”

you tried to sound as normal as you could when all you wanted was to scream from the way jungkook's tongue and fingers worked.

jungkook's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

as he redoubled his efforts.

you almost dropped your phone as you bit your fist.

“okay? just… be safe, call me later.”

jae had no idea that his best friend was currently between your thighs, driving you to the edge of madness.

“i will.”

you gasped ending the call just when jungkook's teeth slightly grazed your clit, your phone falling to the floor with a thud.

“jungkook, jungkook!” you sobbed.

“that’s it, baby.”

“cum for me. let me feel you cum all over my face.”

his words were your undoing and you came with a scream, your vision going white as your hands scratched his shoulder.

you were basically mindless.

your clit pulsed at the same pace as your heart as your cum hit him in the face.

he didn’t stop.

licking you through the aftershocks, his tongue is gentler now more soothing as he draws out every last bit of pleasure.

his fingers thrust until you pushed him away with a whine.

overstimulated to your limits.

“mhmm… so beautiful when you cum.”

he pressed a kiss against your knee as you tried to catch your breath.

“jungkook.” you whispered hoarsely.

your hands still tangled in his hair

“that was… oh my god.”

“you liked that huh?” he asks smugly.

“liked me making you scream my name?”

“yea..” you admitted.

you couldn’t look away from his eyes now, knowing that you no longer have to hide your feelings.

his lips still coated with your arousal.

“i loved it.”

“good.”

he stands slowly, his hands keeping your thighs spread for him.

“because i’m not done with you yet.”

nothing was enough—not for you and definitely not for him.

he needed more.

he looked up and down your figure, the skirt was still bunched on your waist and your thigh stockings were still there along with your heels.

you looked so damn irresistible like this.

so his.

your piercings still hurt but it was overshadowed by your need for him.

he comes down hovering over you, his hand on either side of you, his torso glistening with a sheen of sweat.

your hand immediately found the tattoo on his chest that he got for you.

you couldn't keep your hands away from it

it still made your heart ache with love.

“you want this?”

he looks at you as if he needed to hear it one more time before he let himself go completely.

“yes.” you whispered.

your hands wrapping around his neck.

you were as sure as you'll ever be.

“that has always been my answer, jungkook.”

his jaw ticks as he gulps hard.

“doll…”

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this. how many nights i fucked my fist thinking about you like this.”

you keened at his words as he slowly pushed his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion and your eyes widened.

you were awestruck because of his cock.

it was thick and hard precum already gathered at the tip but the specialty of it was the piercing.

it was bigger than you'd imagined several times and you already feel your pussy flutter again even if you just came a few minutes ago.

you stared at it.

your mouth drying at the thought of him inside you.

“like what you see, baby?”

his head tilts cockily as he revels in your reaction.

his ego boosting.

he wrapped his hand around his cock stroking himself slowly, his thumb brushing over the piercing as if teasing you about what's about to come.

the sight was almost pornographic, especially with his gloved hands and his tattoos.

you nodded as you watched him, mesmerized by the way he pumped his cock, his balls jostling as his head fell back.

“fuck me…” you beg.

he laughs breathlessly.

“look at you practically drooling for me like a good little slut. you’re gonna take this cock so well, aren’t you?”

“yes, yes.” you babbled.

the humiliation behind his words made you moan as you looked away but he grabbed your chin making you meet his eyes.

“don’t you look away. i want my girls’ eyes on me always.”

his hand slid under your thighs, lifting them slightly to keep you open for him as two of his fingers slid inside you without warning.

“ah, wait!”

your nails dug into his chest as your hips shifted away from him, but he held you in place not letting you run.

“shh... i have to make you ready for me.”

his tongue laps at your jawline as he penetrates you with another finger as three of his fingers scissor you.

stretching you further and further.

“you’re so tight, sweet girl. don’t wanna hurt you.”

you sobbed against his shoulder as he worked you open, the sounds of your arousal filling the room.

“i’m ready… just please.” you pant.

you couldn't take it any longer.

he huffs before pulling his fingers out and lining himself up, the piercing brushing against your entrance.

“are you sure about this doll?”

it was taking every ounce of control to hold himself back.

“i wouldn’t want it any other way.”

you said determined making sure he knew the seriousness in your tone.

that was all he needed.

he pushed into you slowly filling you inch by inch, keeping his eyes on your face to make sure you weren’t in pain.

his piercing dragged against your inner walls, adding a whole new sensation that made you sob.

not being used to it at all

it was too much yet not enough.

“ahh!”

he stretched you to your limits with his fat cock.

“fuck, you’re so tight.”

he paused, letting you adjust to him.

“taking my cock so well like you were made for it.”

you moaned at his praise as you adjusted to his size.

“it’s so big—oh god—”

a cry breaks your sentence.

“i know, baby.”

he sucked on the spot beneath your earlobe.

“you’re such a good girl. being so good for me.”

he slowly starts to thrust inside you, hitting spots inside you didn’t know existed.

letting you get used to him.

slowly the pain turned into immense pleasure.

“please don’t stop.”

“never baby.”

his hips start moving a little faster as the sound of skin slapping against skin, along with both your mixed noises was all you can hear.

it was so lewd.

“you’re mine y/n. no one gets to fuck you like this. not mark, not anyone, just me.”

he was still set on the fact that you flirted with mark just to piss him off.

his hips gives you a punishing pump.

“only yours.” you babbled.

your moans turned into screams as your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines.

you were so full.

“yeah.” he hissed.

the pain turned him further into an animal.

“say that you’re mine.”

“yours.” you hiccupped.

you couldn’t speak.

“i’m yours, only yours.”

his thrusts become more erratic as he angles his hips to hit you perfectly.

and you clench him in a way that feels like you are squeezing the life out of him.

“shitt squeezing me like you never wanna leave.”

you never knew sex could feel like this even if you’ve dated before.

no one could make you feel like him.

his eyes fixed on the way your breasts bounced for him and the piercings made them way too alluring.

his half lidded eyes fixed on him and he was sure he would fuck your tits once they healed.

paint them with his cum and the thought makes him fuck you quicker.

“jungkook, i’m gonna cum please. i can’t.”

“cum for me.” he snarls.

his cock slamming into you with a force.

“let me feel it.”

your throat grows raw from screaming as your legs kick from the intense orgasm that crashed through you.

milking his cock.

his thrusts never slowed as he chased his own release, not giving you time to recover.

his hand flips you onto your hands and knees.

you squealed at the way he manhandled you.

your knees almost gave in as you braced yourself, holding onto the chair and he impaled you from behind once again.

sliding into you in one smooth motion.

“nghhh hahh gosh, i can’t.”

tears spilled down your cheeks.

“fuck you’re so tight like this.”

he spanks your ass slightly making you arch up as you bite onto the cushion of the chair.

it felt like he was going to break the chair.

you were surprised that it was still holding on.

“push that ass back for me.”

his hand gripped your hair, pulling your head back as you murmured nonsense.

your body on autopilot as you met his thrusts.

he watched hypnotized at the way your ass bounced on him and the way your pussy gripped his cock.

liquids oozing out from your earlier orgasms.

he was living in his dream.

he roars grabbing both your arms and holding them back so he could keep you tethered while his hips slapped into yours relentlessly.

your nails dug into his hands as he went faster and faster.

“holy fuck. take it baby.” he curses loudly.

it was like you were in heaven from ecstasy.

and before you knew it, you were cumming again.

“i can’t, i can’t please—”

you were broken.

that's it.

“you can. just let it happen sweet girl.”

his thrusts grew sloppy as his cock pulsed inside you before he came with a choked moan.

filling you with his warm release.

his hands gripped your hips so hard you knew you'd have bruises as he collapsed against you.

he made sure you took each spurt of his cum beforre he pulled you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

as you both caught your breath, his cock still inside you softening but heavy.

his hands roamed your body, soothing the marks he'd left.

“my baby…”

his lips brushed against your shoulder.

“are you okay? i’ve never… fuck i’ve never felt anything like that.”

you turned your head, meeting his eyes that were full of adoration and you nodded.

“me neither.”

he hums contentedly as he pecks your lips.

your eyes flicker, already feeling sleepy from cumming too many times.

your body giving up on you.

you felt so sated.

and most importantly happier than you've ever been.

“now don’t sleep on me. let me clean you first.”

you giggled softly, suddenly shy now that the intimacy faded as he pulled out of you slowly with a squelch making you whimper.

but his gentleness helped you.

he grabbed some wipes, cleaning between your thighs and himself as well before he grabbed his hoodie and helped you put it on.

it was like he was wrapping you in himself.

“there you go.” he smiled.

both of you looked sickeningly in love.

not being able to keep your hands off each other as he explained how to care of your new piercings in detail.

“no tight clothing for a while and it will be sore for a few days but if it gets swollen you call me okay?”

“i’ll be there to take care of you.”

you nodded, feeling giddy at the thought of him looking after you and the new connection between you both.

“love you…”

after letting you rest for a while, he led you outside not caring about the other artists or clients who were still in the shop.

you knew they didn’t hear anything because of the soundproof room but both your states were pretty obvious about what happened.

jungkook held you in bridal style, his grip tightening as he met mark's gaze.

he didn’t feel necessarily jealous because he always knew you were his.

but he had to make sure no one even thought about his girl.

you hide your face in his chest at everyone's gaze.

he took you outside to his motorcycle, helping you get on.

“just you and me, doll.”

“always.”

your arms wrapped around his waist, your cheek pressed against his back, the engine started and he drove through the quiet night.

you felt alive.

free.

like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

and you clung to him tighter feeling the warmth of his body as he gripped your hand pressing it against his heart.

you smiled as you felt his heartbeat match yours.

you knew this was only the beginning.

you were his and he was yours.

and as he drove, it was like both of you were in the path of a new future.

one full of possibility.

he promised himself he'd never let you go now that he finally had you.

that he'd spend every day of his life showing you how much you meant to him.

and everything else be damned.

taglist: @chaelvrx @slutology00 @furioustrashlover @kelsyx33 @kooever @svnbangtansworld @xcviis @snuglymalicioussea @nellbyy @minewlove @l4yl44 @captainengineer-trixie @cristy-101 @fangirl-coco-goddess @lachesismoonmist @angelfuzzy2 @levisnumber1 @angelsdecalcomania @magicalnachocreator @hynjamkook @koodollylvr @withmuchluv-tannie @istarag @elmarimochi9513 @wtfanu @kooklv @endlesslysassy @nanisblogg @tatamicc @mokaliciouss @armybomb-infires @jiniminisworld @seokjinthescientist @gyeomibearr @xmiaacxio @n0chuprettykook @gizaspicebag @aaclariww @dollytingz

"please—"

it wasn't the first time you'd begged. you'd begged for many, many things in this same position, truth be told. robby behind you, jack below. both of their cocks splitting you open. jack was thick, just like the rest of him—thick fingered, thick bodied, thick cock throbbing and twitching where it stuffed your pussy. robby, on the other hand—long and curved up to the right—enjoyed fucking you in your tight puckered muscle, making you whine and squirm beneath him.

robby laid down over you, crushing you further into jack's chest, who moaned with you at the change in angle. robby’s breath was hot against your ear, his lips pressed into the shell.

"please what, baby? hmmmm?" he groaned, his voice hoarse and cracked, his chest wiry with hair against your slick back.

you brought your hand up to fist in his hair, holding on tight as he pulled his length from you almost to the very tip before thrusting slowly back in.

"oh my god," you heard jack curse, his hands tightening at your hips, his mouth opening in a gasp.

both of them were to the right of you—your face laid down on jack's collarbone, robby's chin hooked over your right shoulder. they were so close. breathing one another's air, enough that you could feel jack’s breath leave him and robby’s cheek shift against the side of your head when he opened his mouth to kiss the crest of your shoulder.

you tightened your grip in the latter's hair.

"wanna see you kisssss—"

jack let out a breathless little laugh, robby chuckling into your shoulder.

"baby, we talked about this—" jack said, his voice hardly more than breath, his chest heaving under yours.

"—but it would be so hottttt," you whined.

robby ignored you. "how's she feel, brother?"

jack's head tipped back into the pillow beneath him, and you watched the rough scruff of his unshaved neck shift as his adam's apple glided up and down, swallowing around the broken gasp he pulled in.

"so god damn good—go a little harder, she squeezes me so fucking tight when you really give it to her, mike."

you barely had time to register the gleam in robby's eyes before he was swinging his hips back again, this time thrusting hard against you, his skin slapping hard, balls clapping right above where jack's cock was buried deep inside.

you squealed and jack groaned loudly. your hand hung on tighter to robby's hair, your other hand digging into jack's shoulder beside your head.

"ohhhh fuck—" you mewled. "so—so deep, robby, oh god—"

"she sounds so pretty when she makes those little noises," jack strained to say, turning to kiss you on the nose. "huh, honey? robby's dick feel good like that? yeah? gimme a kiss."

you tilted your chin, pushing into his lips lazily, your tongue reaching out to lick at his, wet muscles sliding together. when you began to drool out the side of your lips, you brought robby's head down closer, resting your cheek back to jack's chest.

"your turn—" you murmured sleepily, your brain fucked out of any logic.

nothing passed through you but the ecstasy of having these two men and being sandwiched between them and their weight pressing in around you. jack began jerking his hips up into you, making you hiccup and whine, his thrusts getting erratic, his breath heavier.

robby's cock pushed deeper into you too, the pressure of both of them at the same time making you feel so content, so full, so cock drunk.

"please, please," you chanted. "wanna see you kiss so badly—"

"she really does beg so cute, doesn't she?" robby murmured, kissing your shoulder.

"yeah—" the other breathed, a light groan strangling the word as both of them slid in and out of you in tandem—full of jack's cock, then robby's, empty. then again, both of them filing you at the same time. the rhythm made your jaw go slack, your thoughts thinning. it felt so right, with jack below you, robby behind you, both of them too big, too hot, too much. still, you wanted more. wanted this so badly the need burned behind your eyes.

"like this—" you said, ignoring their cooing, and you craned your neck, pressing a chaste kiss to robby's lips.

it was hardly a second, your brain too foggy to make it anything more.

"that's it, huh? that's what you want, honey?" robby murmured, voice even hoarser with mirth as he smiled at you.

"yesss!" you whined, kicking your feet into the bed beneath.

"not good enough to have both of us, huh?" he teased. "such a needy little girl."

"be nice, mike—" jack moaned. "she's a good girl."

his praise always effected you—making you flutter around him, and you knew he could feel it, even with the increased fulless from robby deep inside you with him. he cracked a little knowing smile between moans.

"oh, i know she's a good girl, brother," robby said, and his mouth dragged over the back of your shoulder. "no doubt about it. but we've spoiled her. she thinks she can have whatever she wants."

you pouted, the prick of tears in your eyes not from him denying you, but from the utter fullness of their cocks punching in and out of you. from the easy back and forth of them—robby pretending there wasn’t a soft spot in him you could reach with the simplest look. and jack caught it every time and teased him for it.

"enough talking—" jack cursed. "fuck, fuck, she's tightening up on me— think she's gonna come, mike, oh god—"

"please—" you moaned louder, thrashing a little bit out of frustration.

"fuck it—" robby growled.

he leaned down and placed a kiss on the corner of jack's mouth.

they didn't stop entirely when robby pulled his lips away from jack's. their thrusts only softened into shallow rocks, jack's hands tightening on your skin, both his and robby's throbbing lengths still pressed deep enough inside you that every quiet breath made you feel the stretch of both of them. you held yours without meaning to—waiting, feeling both of them still around you.

robby's chest pressed heavier against your back as he breathed through his nose. you felt jack's beneath you, his ribs expanding, pressing against your breasts.

"yes," you whispered, though not wanting to rush them. your mouth brushed jack's skin when you said it, soft against the damp hollow below his collarbone. "more."

"you're right—" jack huffed a little laugh that shook his chest on the way out. "she really is needy."

robby smiled, as if grateful for the lightness, "told y—"

but he couldn't say anything else, because jack's lips were suddenly on his.

a deep, harmonized groan passed between the two of them, and it did something terrible to you. your stomach dropped, your hips jerked. even a little lick of jealousy flamed in you, warming your skin, but they looked good together. so good. exactly as you pictured it. it made you moan and writhe to see their mouths slot against one another, lips parting, tongues sliding, jack's stubbled jaw working under the rough scrape of robby's beard.

"oh my god," you whispered.

when they paused their kissing, a string of spit connected them, shiny and wet.

"d'you feel that?" robby whispered.

"yeah," jack answered, his one hand squeezing your hip while the other came up to robby's hair along with yours. "her pussy is gripping me like a vice—"

"yeah, she really tightened up—fuck, c'mere."

robby's hand went up to jack's hair too, fisting in the messy graying curls. jack's mouth fell open in a guttural groan, and robby's other hand came to the nape of your neck in answer. he pulled you into himself harshly, his tongue sliding against yours as your mouths met.

it was slick and wet and lewd, and just when you began to moan in earnest, their thrusts picked up again. harder now, less patient. jack fucking up into you from beneath, robby driving into you from behind, the bed frame knocking against the wall harshly again and again.

then you felt a second tongue at the corner of your mouth.

you pulled back only enough to welcome it—jack's tongue sliding against yours, robby's flicking against the two of you together.

the room filled with louder moans and the thick slap of skin, the wet drag of mouths, jack's rough little curses disappearing against your lips. robby's hand stayed tight at the back of your neck, holding you there for it, making you take the kiss you had begged for. you gushed around them, pussy fluttering and convulsing in pleasure.

"come for us, baby," robby whispered between kisses. "come for jackie. he wants you to come all over his big cock."

jack groaned under you, his hips jerking up harder, his member punching even deeper.

"I wanna feel it too," robby said. "c'mon now, gave you what you wanted. now I get to feel this perfect little ass take my come."

"just wanted your boyfriends to kiss, huh, baby?" jack cooed, his hand moving up to grip your face, forefinger and thumb squeezing your cheeks. his thumb hooked into the tender hinge of your lips, sliding along your molars to pry your mouth open wider for the two of them.

you cried out around his salty skin, and he pouted in mock pity as he looked at you.

"come on my cock, baby," jack moaned, leaning in to keep licking and nipping at your lips. "know you wanna, come on my cock now—gonna fill you up so good, mmmm—"

"i'm—i'm—i'm coming—oh, god, oh god—"

"yeah, that's it, that's it—oh fuckkk—" robby groaned, his thrusts slamming harder, turning erratic before he froze up, jaw unhinging, breathing hotly against wanton mouth.

jack's opened too, in shock, in awe, and when you looked at him you saw his eyes go wide before they rolled back behind his eyelids.

your orgasm ripped through you, a heady pressure down your spine and tightening your hips, making your legs lock up before it crested you like an ocean wave swelling and crashing. your hand clenched in robby's hair as your mouth fell open around jack's thumb. both of them groaned in tandem, trapping you between them, both buried deep while your body squeezed down, making jack curse and robby bare his teeth.

as the euphoria eased and your body went loose with the oxytocin flooding your blood, the three of you kept kissing—gentle little nips, soft flicks of tongue, spit sliding and glistening at the corners of your mouths, collecting where lips met and parted. jack retreated his thumb from your mouth to gently pet at your cheek, and they let you have as much as you wanted, just like always. spoiled thing, they'd tell you again afterwards, while they washed your hair in the bath and cleaned you up.

but for now, you kissed them as your eyes grew heavier and heavier, your breathing deepening against jack's chest. robby's weight behind you felt heavy and comforting, tucked between two men, utterly spent and completely content.

“No, no, not for me, my patient,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Please, I wish it was for me.”

“Why do you need a condom for a patient?” you asked, amused almost. “Is he hot?”

“What? No? My patient, he's HIV but apparently very, very active and he doesn't have condoms. He says he-he prefers it without and I've explained everything to him but there's no condoms in the draw where we keep them!” explained Samira.

“We have a condom draw?” asked Trinity, taking only that as the necessary information from Mohan's ramble.

You handed her the chart. “You sleep with women.”

“What? So I'm not allowed in the condom draw?”

“It's for sex ed teachings, people who are young and having sex,” you shrugged. “Stuff like that. Come on, I can help you out.”

The nurses desk was practically vacant. Around you everyone busied themselves with greeting the nigh shift and getting them out, taking away patients like the changing of the guard. It was almost too early to be dealing with tough patients who wouldn't protect themselves.

You led the way around the counter, Mohan and Santos (who took an invitation for herself) followed you over to the desk as you reached down for Robby's bag, propping it up.

It was no surprise to them that you were reaching for his bag, reaching for his stuff like it was yours. What was Robby's was yours. The real surprise had been when Mel found the two of you eight months ago making out in the storage room, shrieking and dropping a bag of blood that then splashed all over you.

And obviously at the scream everyone ran over and found the two of you rather compromised and covered in blood. You still weren't really done living that down.

You fished around in Robby's bag, the owner somewhere not there to see as you brought out an opened box of condoms. “Here,” you said handing her a thick strip as Santos laughed.

Samira took them wearily, a small dusting of pink on her cheeks. “Won't you... miss these?”

“No,” you said, rocking on your heels, suddenly feeling the familiar creeping heat of embarrassment. “We have... more.”

Santos smirked. “Keeping Robby in shape, huh?”

Samira shuddered. “I really don't want to think about my boss like that, but thank you!” you said, waving the strip like it was a flag and rushing off before her patient could walk off. She was a good doctor, dedicated you knew and you were just happy to help her reach her potential.

Distracted by watching her leave you failed to notice Trinity sneak over to Robby's bag, peeking inside like a nosy cat.

“Hey!” you lectured, pulling the zipper shut on her hand.

“What? Just wanted to know what else you got in there? Does he keep a pair of panties? Vibrator if it gets quiet,” she teased.

You blushed, shaking your head and looking down to the bag. “You have no shame, that's your boss you're talking about.”

She made a pfft noise. “You're the one screwing him.”

Yes, you were. Proudly and happily.

Javadi slid up next to you, practically shoving you a tablet and asking for your advice. You were somewhere deep in your residency, one of the first they were introduced to on their hell of a first day. Not as scary as Robby, easier to talk to than Langdon. It was typical for the Pittlings and Mohan to come to you when they needed advice. You liked it really, as much as Santos teased you and as much as Mohan and Javadi doubted themselves.

“Hey Crash,” said Trinity, all but giddy with the new knowledge she had about Doctor Robby's contents in his bag. “You wanna know what's in this bag of secrets.”

“No,” you chastised.

Javadi's eyes lightened up. “Is that Doctor Robby's bag?”

“It doesn't matter,” you said, pushing it back down to your feet.

“Hey,” Samira joined the group of you again, handing you back the strip of condoms. “He said he can't take these.” The rest of the doctors and nurses hustled around the Pitt, un-knowing of the personal dilemmas being aired out.

You lifted your shoulders. “You needed condoms, those are condoms.”

“Yes but they're not the right size,” said Mohan. “He says they wouldn't fit, they're too big.”

Oh.

Perhaps at some point you'd been shocked at the size of Robby. Before you'd only had your imagination and hints of him beneath his scrubs. The times when he'd brush past you in the teasing beginning of your relationship and you'd feel something prod at you. The first time he'd dragged you to his bedroom, lips seething in heat and teeth nipping in want to only lay you out on his bed and drag his pants and underwear down to show all of him- then you'd been shocked. Mouth watering so.

Over the months the shock transformed to desire, reaching hands and an eager mouth that you stopped thinking about the size.

You didn't think anything of it when you handed Mohan a strip of five extra-large condoms.

Standing at the nurses station it may as well have been a deserted island and you stared down at the condoms like it was your first offering of food.

“Uh-”

Javadi snatched the condoms from Samira first, staring down at them with mouth agape. “Oh my god.”

“Javadi-”

“Holy shit!”

You looked back and Santos had pulled out Robby's bag again, pulling out the box and staring at the size stamped on the front. “Santos!”

“No wonder you walk in limping.”

“I do not- I do not walk in limping!”

“Well, there was that one time-” said Mohan.

“No, there wasn't!” you argued. “I'd bruised my ankle.”

Mohan chuckled to herself. “Sure.”

Trinity smirked. “Bruised something.”

Javadi was still staring at the strip of condoms in wonder. “How do they even get this big?”

You snatched them away from her the way you might have if a child found them. Quickly you stuffed them in the box, threw them back in Robby's bag and kept it behind your back.

“Wait, why do you have a box of condoms for work?” asked Javadi.

“Oh please,” said Santos with a groan. “They're always at it in work. Better safe than sorry.”

“We are not always at it at work,” you defended.

“The storage closet?” asked Mohan, apparently abandoning the venture of finding fitting condoms for her patient.

You held up a finger. “That was one time.”

“The toilets,” added Santos, sadly remembering the time you and Robby had hid yourselves in the bathroom for a break. A break that was only supposed to be comforting touched turned hot and reaching quickly.

“That one time in the exam room where we thought we were examining a broken hip for a Mrs Driscoll-” began Javadi.

“Okay! Okay, I get it!” you interrupted.

“I think it's nice,” Trinity quipped her lip, arms crossing over her chest. “Get some dick when you can right.” She patted your shoulder like a proud sister as she left the group of you, laughing quietly to herself.

Victoria and Samira followed suit, leaving you with the ramifications of your own embarrassment. So what your boyfriend was largely endowed, wasn't it a compliment? Weren't you the luckiest girl in the world to have Robby with soft and tender touches turned to almost hateful thrusts with how hard he loved you.

You made sure Robby's bag was tightly closed before sliding it back under the desk.

The day brought the same usual storm the ED always brought. Enough to distract you from the mornings events and the package sitting inside of Robby's bag. You were left with only a creeping heat crawling up your neck, the last dregs of your doctors eyes on you and their giddy smiles.

You'd only managed to make it to the staff lounge for a coffee by mid day, taking the mug that was yours, marked with an inside joke and given one secret Santa round.

“Hey.” Robby slipped into the room, leaning his back against the sink and standing next to you.

“Hey yourself.”

For a moment there was a silence where you poured coffee for the both of you, handing him his mug.

Robby's fingers grazed yours, the simplest touch sending shivers through your skin. “Can I ask you something?”

You hummed, head tucked away. He wouldn't have heard about the mornings teasing's, would he?

“Santos has been... off today,” he said.

He would.

You gulped, a feign of concern falling to you. “She has?”

“Keeps looking at me and smirking. She's doing this thing with her hands where she-” he demonstrated, spreading his hands to different distances, some small, some bigger. His hands wavered around the imaginary object between his hands.

You were left groaning.

Robby's head tilted toward you. “Do you know anything?”

In attempts of hiding away the story your head ducked and shook side to side.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” you said.

Robby's fingers were slightly calloused but no less humble as he pinched your chin, realigning his gaze with yours. His brows rose, gaze pouring into yours. He didn't even have to ask you again.

You sighed. “This morning Mohan had a patient with HIV and she wanted to give him condoms but there was none where they usually are so I gave her some of ours. But they weren't exactly... the right size.”

There was a small furrow of confusion in his face as he waited for you to elaborate.

You turned your body into his, lowering your voice. “Not everybody can fit into an extra large, Robby.”

The furrow gave and a small grin split his cheeks as he glanced down to your shoes, a pink blooming under his beard and to his cheeks. It was different from your own embarrassment. He was more pleased with himself.

Robby straightened, hands wavering. “So how does... this connect to-”

“Santos was there this morning when Samira asked.”

He chuckled, tongue poking out into his cheek as he shook his head in amusement.

“It's not funny,” you said, nudging him.

He rocked on his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Your coffee was turning lukewarm in hand, the bitter taste suddenly too sweet as you made to walk away from him and stew in your own humiliation.

Robby's fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged, using you to pull himself in closer. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he teased, voice dropping into the low drag in his condescending way. The sort of voice he used to coax you down into bed with his darkening eyes and lustful approach. “Is my dick too big? Do I fuck you too good?” His hands grabbed at your hips, bringing you into him, tongue darting out to your neck.

Your body wriggled in his hold, trying to escape as his arms grew strong around you. “Stop!” You laughed.

“Make me.” He nipped at your neck, licking over the sting he caused.

The door was pushed open and Langdon stumbled in the doorway, catching sight of the two of you tangled in arms and laughter.

“Are you two doing it in the lounge now?” he asked.

You guessed you just should've been thankful Langdon wasn't there that morning, otherwise there would have been competitions between him and Santos on who could make the best jokes out of your misery.

Slowly, Robby moved away from you, pulling himself up straight and pulling at his hoodie before leading the way out the room.

McKay was wheeling a patient away to x-ray, Samira was giving aftercare instructions to an elderly couple and Mel was somewhere lurking in a corner talking to Dana.

Santos, however, was still being the most productive, sitting across from Javadi and still trying to make sense of some invisible size between her hands.

You watched, un-able to stop as Robby walked behind Santos and spread her hands apart just a little, enough to leave more than enough inches between her hands.

Robby walked away, satisfied.

“Please, please, please!” you whispered to yourself, fingers crossed tightly as you stared at the three screens in front of you.

Your laptop. Your phone. Your tablet.

Your eyes were glossy with hope and adrenaline, your feet thumping uncontrollably beneath your chair, a thin layer of sweat forming despite the air-conditioned room wrapping around you in cold comfort.

This was your first time buying concert tickets. Despite being a long-time fan, this was your only chance—because you had finally gathered enough money to secure one.

You had prepared three Weverse accounts under your name and your parents’ names, carefully reserving each slot so you could slip into the presale the moment it opened. You had already studied how fast tickets sold out in other countries...the quickest being around ten minutes. Ten minutes of chaos, of people like you refreshing, praying, losing.

You bit your lip hard enough to feel it sting. You were still in the queue when the screen suddenly shifted, dragging you into a loading page that refused to move. Thirty minutes had already passed, and all three accounts were still stuck.

“Fuck!”

Your eyes widened when two of your accounts abruptly showed session timeout.

With shaky hands, you tried to navigate through it, but everything lagged—hesitating, freezing, slipping away from your control. You cursed under your breath, glancing at your laptop—the only one still holding on, still alive.

Your vision started to blur at the edges. The chances of getting a ticket were thinning by the second, dissolving right in front of you.

“Please, just this one…” you whispered to yourself, eyes locked on the screen with fragile, breaking hope.

Your eyes widened when the screen finally moved.

No Tickets Available.

Just like that, your hopes were crushed.

You slowly looked up at the posters on your walls, the albums stacked neatly on your shelves, the plushies scattered across your bed, and the ARMY Bomb you had recently bought, displayed beside your BTS McDonald’s figurines.

Tears began falling uncontrollably from your eyes, like a flood breaking through something you could no longer hold together. The realization settled in—heavy, final....that you wouldn’t get to see them.

Your lips quivered as you quickly sank onto your bed, pulling your favorite pink cooky plushie close to your chest. You cried into it, letting everything spill out with an aching, exhausted heart.

Your parents tried to comfort you. They knew how much this meant. They had witnessed your journey growing up—how you stayed up all night waiting for comebacks, how you saved every bit of money just to buy new albums, how you would drop everything the moment a Weverse Live started, how you bought multiple happy meals just to complete all the toys, how you binge-watched their content and replayed Run BTS episodes whenever you had free time.

They had seen it all.

How deeply you adored and loved your bias…

Jungkook.

You appreciated how your parents tried to look for tickets online for you, but the number of scams you’d heard about from resellers made you hesitate. Prices were tripled—far beyond your budget. You didn’t want to burden them, even when they insisted they were willing to cover the extra cost.

You were still a student, after all. You told them it was okay—that they should just save the money for your college instead.

“What if you just check in to the hotel they’re staying at? Girl, imagine!” your best friend Mina suggested.

The hot coffee you ordered had already gone cold. The concert was next month, and Mina was now throwing ridiculous ideas at you on how you could possibly see BTS. The supposed study session in the coffee shop had long been forgotten the moment you mentioned the upcoming concert.

“I doubt it. There’s usually no news about it because of their privacy… sometimes I only find out once they’ve already checked in or when they do a Weverse live.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “I’m sure there’s at least some news if you really dig into it. How many days is the concert?”

“Two days. And even if I wanted to stalk their hotel, I’m sure a lot of fans would do that too—and the next thing you know, the hotel is fully booked.” you pouted.

You were being realistic. The chances of seeing them at their hotel—or even getting a room there—were slim. With the number of fans camping out and others researching nonstop, you had almost zero chance.

“Do you want to see them or not? Come on, I’ll book a room with you!” she nudged your shoulders, wiggling her brows as she sipped her caramel macchiato.

You chuckled softly. “Of course I do, but I swear, Mina, it’s harder than you think…”

Mina groaned, stomping her feet. “Ugh, fine! But watching the concert online is really fucking boring when you know they’re literally in the same country as you.”

You sighed. Mina wasn’t really a fan, but she knew how much you loved BTS. When she found out you hadn’t secured a ticket, she had been the first to suggest the most ridiculous ideas—stalking their hotel, camping outside the arena, chasing anything that even remotely felt possible.

After a few months since the presale, it had been a hard pill to swallow—but you had finally accepted it. You wouldn’t get to see them. Even if Mina’s ideas lingered at the back of your mind, you knew better. The chances were too low. You’d rather stay at home, wear your cooky pajamas, and stream the concert online in peace.

Still… there were the sleepless nights.

The what-ifs that refused to leave you alone.

What if you had attended the concert? What if you had somehow booked the same hotel? What if you caught a glimpse of their van outside the arena?

Being a fan for almost a decade, you knew those kinds of scenarios only happened in fictional stories. Seeing Jungkook on a random day was like finding a bag of cash in a public restroom stall—completely impossible.

Though… still, a small part of you never fully stopped hoping.

“Also, isn’t our country their last stop?” Mina said, already searching for dates and details on her phone.

“Yeah… that’s why I actually had enough money and time… but I guess luck just wasn’t on my side,” you murmured bitterly, glancing around the busy coffee shop as if the noise could somehow quiet the ache settling in your chest.

Mina suddenly froze, her eyes widening. “Wait—since it’s the last stop… don’t you think they’ll stay longer? Maybe for a few more days, like… I don’t know, rest?”

You had already thought about it—but how on earth would you ever know their whereabouts? You’d only find out once they were already there, or when they went live. And since it would be after the concert, you were certain they’d want to rest, to disappear into privacy for a while.

“Mina… it’s okay. I swear, I’ll be fine.” you assured her, her ideas now more amusing than anything else.

Until your lunch break ended, Mina kept babbling—throwing out unrealistic scenarios straight out of books and fanfics. You laughed at her what-ifs, at the corny places her imagination kept taking you.

You knew she wasn’t doing it to be silly.

She was doing it because she knew you. Knew how badly you wanted to see them. Knew how quiet you’d become once the concert actually started.

So, as your best friend, Mina had decided something else entirely.

A short out-of-town trip. While BTS was in the country. A way for you both to disappear for a while, to breathe, to rest from studies, from expectations, from everything—including the concert you couldn’t attend.

“Mina! Why didn’t you tell me?” Your eyes widened in shock when you saw the cottage number and the dates.

Mina had booked a five-day beach trip, complete with daily activities that made your head spin just reading them.

“Don’t worry, you can bring your laptop so you can still stream the concert.” she snickered, handing you the itinerary.

“Mina! That’s not what I meant—this is too much,” you groaned.

She giggled, already sitting comfortably on your bed while you scanned through the list she had prepared. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun! Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve had a girls’ trip.”

You pouted at her, still in disbelief—but the resistance didn’t last. A smile slipped through as you pulled her into a hug anyway. “You and your ideas,” you chuckled.

“Bring cute clothes! Let’s take lots of pics—I want to update my IG!” she said excitedly.

You grinned. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow. My treat.”

Mina shrieked. “God, yes! Let’s go!”

The upcoming concert was still on your mind, but you were also busy preparing for the trip with Mina. You were excited—the small distraction keeping you from spiraling into a full breakdown over not being able to see BTS.

Wearing a cute sundress and brown sandals, you and Mina finally checked in. It was Day 1 of the concert. You had already set an alarm for the online stream later, a quiet kind of excitement settling in at the thought that, at the very least, you had the privilege of watching it while sipping fresh coconut by the sea breeze.

“Why the fuck are you reapplying your lip gloss?” Mina asked when she caught you touching up your makeup right before the concert started.

“To look cute while watching Jungkook,” you giggled, turning your ARMY Bomb on.

After dinner, you and Mina sat on a bench by the sand, your pocket Wi-Fi, laptop, and earphones already set up beside you.

Mina rolled her eyes. “That’s crazier than my ideas.”

You chuckled softly, eyes already fixed on the screen as the countdown began. Your heart raced like you were inside the stadium with them—like the distance didn’t exist at all.

When the concert finally started, Mina had to walk away because you were screaming too loudly, jumping from your seat and almost knocking over the coconut shake on the table.

“Girl, let me walk around and find a cute guy. Your shrieks are lowkey scaring me.” Mina laughed when she came back and saw you on the verge of tears, fanning yourself like you might actually pass out.

“Okay, oka—oh my gosh! They’re performing Dimple! Oh my gosh!” you shouted, already lost in it again.

For two days, you were completely gone in it—fangirling nonstop, fully absorbed in every moment. It was only on Day 3, when Mina had planned actual activities, that you finally stepped away from the screen. Until then, you had spent your time watching, rewatching, and reposting edits like the world outside didn’t exist.

“He’s so hot—I can’t believe he wore that gray shirt. It looked so good on him,” you babbled, telling Mina everything about the concert details and the surprise songs they performed.

The two-night concert had ended like a whirlwind, yet you were still floating on cloud nine. While Mina had been busy taking pictures and scouting for cute guys, you had been replaying everything in your head—taking screenshots, saving edits, and reliving every moment in real time like you couldn’t let it go.

Mina was just happy you enjoyed it. She even swore she almost thought you were going to have a heart attack when you shrieked so loudly after Jungkook lifted his shirt and revealed his abs. Your gallery probably had ten copies of that exact moment.

“And! Guess what!” you said, munching on your breakfast as you wiggled your eyebrows at her.

“Hmm… Jungkook showed his dick?”

“Mina!” Your cheeks burned as you nearly choked on the waffles you were eating.

Mina laughed, casually pointing her fork at you. “That would be good though.”

You shook your head quickly, your face still hot. “I mean—would want that—but guess what! He sang the chorus of Still With You in acapella!” you babbled again, as if Mina would fully grasp the weight of it.

For your third day, you and Mina were supposed to ride a yacht. You were already getting dressed when Mina suddenly squealed behind you, hurriedly tying the strap of her sandal.

“He replied! Oh my gosh, he’s treating me to dinner!” Mina said excitedly, quickly glancing at the mirror you were using to fix your hair.

“Huh? Who?”

“This guy I met while you were watching the concert! He wants to see me again!” She showed you her phone.

Your brows furrowed. “He’s inviting you to his cottage later?” you said, reading the message.

Mina’s eyes widened as she looked back at her phone. “Fuck! What should I do?”

“Wait… so you’re not going on the yacht with me?” you concluded.

Mina smiled cheekily, biting her lip. “Well… he’s cute and… hot…”

You raised a brow. “Make sure he’s really hot,” you chuckled, fixing your hair again in front of the mirror—when Mina suddenly squealed and hugged you from behind.

“Promise I’ll make it up to you! You’re the best!” she grinned, already moving back to the bed to grab her bag.

Mina had booked this trip for you, and you wanted her to enjoy it too. Even though she originally planned it as a girls’ trip, you had spent most of it absorbed in the concert. She had always supported your whims without hesitation...and now it was your turn to support hers.

“Why are you bringing that duffel bag?” you asked, amused at the amount of clothes she was packing.

Mina wiggled her brows. “Gotta be prepared, y’know.”

She walked towards the door, fixing her neckline one last time.

You grinned. “Text me when you’re heading back!”

“Yes, ma’am!” she giggled, throwing you a flying kiss before hurrying out.

The sheer amount of clothes Mina brought made it obvious—she probably wouldn’t be back tonight. You sighed softly, glancing down at your short pink floral dress, your hair tied in a half ponytail.

You still had two days left of the trip, but today was the first time it truly settled in. For the past two days, you had been completely immersed in the concert—no time to walk along the shore, no quiet moments to watch the sunset.

Now, it was finally your time to unwind.

Although you were tempted to doom-scroll edits again, you forced yourself up instead, deciding to follow the planned activity for the day and step outside.

-

“Number 9! Calling for all passengers on Yacht 9!”

You hurried over to the line, double-checking the receipt number Mina had reserved for you.

There were only a few people waiting—some couples and a small group of friends. You didn’t really mind being alone. If anything, you needed this time to unwind, to breathe, to exist without noise pressing in on you.

“Ticket, please!” the man in a white uniform said.

You handed it over, offering a polite smile before stepping onto the yacht.

A few groups had already settled in—holding bottles of champagne, chatting softly, taking pictures against the open sea. You made your way towards the main deck, where a small group of friends sat around a table filled with snacks and laughter.

Based on the crowd, you felt relieved it wasn’t too packed—maybe around twenty-thirty people scattered across the space, enough to feel lively but not overwhelming.

Soft music drifted through the air as the yacht moved gently along the waves. The salt of the sea lingered in every breath you took, calming something in you without you even realizing it needed calming.

You wandered towards a long table filled with food, your short dress and hair swaying slightly with the breeze.

There were different kinds of pastries, a large charcuterie board, bottles of wine and champagne catching the light, stacks of beer lined neatly at one end, and a few bags of chips scattered casually beside them.

Mina had definitely booked a nice yacht. You smiled to yourself, genuinely happy that you could finally relax and enjoy this moment—with good food, fresh air, and a quiet kind of peace you hadn’t realized you needed.

You grabbed a bag of potato chips and a bottle of wine, scanning the area for a place to sit until you spotted a vacant lounger on the sun deck.

“Perfect!” you mumbled excitedly when you noticed no one else had claimed that area.

Carefully placing your bag, chips, and wine down, you quickly took a photo to update Mina.

“Let’s sit here!”

You were still busy snapping pictures when a small group—maybe four or five people—settled in beside you.

You weren’t really paying attention at first, but in your peripheral vision, you noticed they had brought an impressive amount of snacks with them.

You opened your chips and leaned back on the sun lounger. When you heard the sharp crack of a beer can opening, curiosity tugged at you, and you glanced over briefly.

It was a group of Korean men, older than you—probably in their mid-30s to 40s. Some wore black shades, already laughing as they settled into their drinks, their voices easy and relaxed.

They must be on vacation. This beach was a tourist spot, after all.

You turned your attention back to your chips, letting the sun warm your skin as you sank into the view. The group beside you wasn’t loud—they mostly talked about the scenery and the food, occasionally breaking into laughter over the activities they had tried earlier.

The world felt slow again, almost suspended in that gentle rhythm of waves and wind.

You were busy sipping your wine when you suddenly felt it—an unmistakable stare.

The group beside you was still laughing, their voices blending into the soft noise of the sea, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was looking at you.

These men were older, and for a brief moment, unease crept in.

You sneaked a glance over your shoulder and noticed the broad-built man in sunglasses staring straight ahead—past you.

Does he want potato chips or—

With a slight frown, you followed his line of sight properly this time.

He wasn’t looking at you.

He was looking at your bag on the table.

My bag?

When he realized you were looking back at him, he quickly turned away, though the shift in his posture told you he was still thinking.

Confused, you glanced down at your bag again.

It was just a simple beige tote bag...nothing special and nothing worth staring at.

You shrugged it off. It must’ve been a mistake. Besides, he was wearing sunglasses—maybe he was just spacing out, looking into nothing.

Munching on your chips again, you noticed him typing on his phone, suddenly more focused, as if he had detached himself from the conversation entirely.

You almost laughed to yourself, thinking he might actually be searching something about your bag online.

A strange thought—but harmless.

With a deep, content sigh, you leaned back again, the warmth of the sun and the rhythm of the waves slowly pulling you under.

And somewhere between the breeze and the quiet, you didn’t notice when your eyes finally closed.

By the time you woke up, it was already sunset.

The bottle of wine beside you was empty, and the small group that had been next to you earlier was gone. The sea breeze had turned cooler now—soft and comforting...while the sound of waves blended with the distant chatter of guests still enjoying the evening.

You stretched lightly and sat up.

Some people were still dancing, some chatting, others taking pictures against the fading orange sky. You still had a few hours left before the yacht returned to shore.

Grabbing your leftover chips and the empty bottle of wine, you frowned when something small caught your attention beside your bag.

A paper.

Leaning in slightly, you picked it up—and realized it was a calling card.

Song Hobeom +82 873 489 **** [email protected]

“Who the fuck is this?”

Looking around, you didn’t see the group of Koreans anymore. You assumed the calling card must’ve come from them, especially given the Korean name and number printed on it.

Still… you were confused. Why would he leave his calling card?

Walking slowly along the yacht, you felt a slight dizziness from the wine lingering in your system. You tossed the empty chip bag and bottle aside, your eyes still scanning the space for any sign of the group you had seen earlier. The air had turned colder now, your short dress offering little protection against the breeze brushing against your skin.

Curiosity got the better of you—and maybe the alcohol gave you just enough courage.

You decided to dial the number.

“Yoboseyo?” a deep voice answered.

You swallowed. “Hello? I-Is this Song Hobeom?”

A brief sigh came through the line. “Yes?”

Confusion crept in when he didn’t immediately recognize you as the person from the sun lounger. You hesitated for a moment. Did he really hand out his calling card just like that?

“Uh, I was the one sitting on the sun lounger by the main deck. I think you left your calling card at my table?” you said, biting your lip as nerves slowly settled in.

You had no idea what he wanted—and yet here you were, calling him back.

“Oh, right. Thank you for calling back, ma’am. May I know when you are free? I would like to discuss something with you.” he said in a formal tone.

Huh?

Confusion was written all over your face.

You walked towards the bow of the yacht, trying to escape the soft music and distant chatter, holding the phone closer to your ear.

“Uhm… may I know what for? This is a bit confusing.” You looked around again, but there was still no trace of the group from earlier. They must’ve already left.

“It is a bit confidential, ma’am. But don’t worry, I will give you a short background once we meet.”

You groaned under your breath. “I’m sorry, but can’t you just tell me this over the phone?”

You didn’t want to sound rude, but you didn’t know this man. It was already strange enough that he wanted to meet in person to “discuss something.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we may need to discuss this face-to-face to ensure the call is not being recorded. If you prefer, you may set the time and place.” he said formally.

What the actual fuck.

You rolled your eyes. This was bullshit—it sounded like a scam. Some foreign guy trying to trick people before disappearing back to his country.

“Sorry, but I’m not interested. Thank you.”

You ended the call immediately.

You weren’t stupid enough to meet a stranger like that. You had only been curious, nothing more—but the moment he refused to explain anything over the phone, something in you clicked.

Suspicion.

And you weren’t taking that chance.

You were about to walk back to the main deck when your phone beeped with a new message. You thought it was Mina, but the moment you recognized the country code, you immediately rolled your eyes.

What does he want?

You instantly regret calling his number. Opening the message, you saw that he had sent a file.

“I swear if this has a virus,” you mumbled.

You were about to tap it when another message came in.

Song Hobeom: The file can only be viewed once. Any form of screenshot or screen recording will be detected and notified. Please contact me again if you wish to proceed after reading the contract.

Song Hobeom: Please do not share this file or inform anyone about this matter. This is strictly confidential. Thank you.

Fucking hell?

You snorted softly, finding his messages almost ridiculous. It sounded like a joke—like he genuinely believed you’d get “in trouble” for forwarding whatever this was.

With a small smirk, you already decided you’d tell Mina about it later. You were definitely not falling for some scam. You’d open it, see whatever nonsense it was, and then block him right after.

With a sheepish grin, you tapped the file anyway… your heart giving a small, restless thump as the screen began to load.

What if it’s a jump scare?

Your brows slowly furrowed when the title finally appeared in bold capital letters:

NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT

What?

You quickly scanned the document, reading faster and faster—until your eyes landed on a name that made your heart jolt.

“W-What the actual fuck?!” you gasped in shock. A few people turned to look at you, but you didn’t care. Your attention was completely locked on your phone.

You were starting to hyperventilate. You wanted to close it, to breathe, to think—but it was a view-once file. Your hands trembled as the alcohol from earlier wore off almost instantly, replaced by something sharper.

“This is not real… no freaking way,” you whispered weakly, quickly texting him back with shaking fingers.

No second thoughts—you typed immediately, afraid he might block you or change his mind.

You: I am free tomorrow at around 1 PM. Let’s meet by the coast area near the bar.

Song Hobeom: Noted, ma’am. Thank you for cooperating.

-

You never thought you would find yourself in a situation like this.

You chose a spot with very few people around. It was a nice sunny day, but your face already felt warm—nervous, alert, almost buzzing with anticipation.

Wearing a white floral dress, brown strappy sandals, and sunglasses, you called Mina beforehand and told her you’d be skipping the snorkeling activity for the day. You wanted to tell her the truth, but she didn’t question it when you said you just wanted to swim and relax by the ocean instead.

She told you she wouldn’t be back for tonight, giggling about the cute guy she had met. She kept talking, but your mind was elsewhere the entire time.

Honestly, you were relieved she wouldn’t be back soon. Given the terms written in the file, you needed time alone.

Or this opportunity—whatever it really was—might slip right through your fingers.

“Are you listening to me? You’re like… spacing out, girl!” Mina chuckled.

Your face immediately heated up. “Oh! A-Am I? I was just thinking about buying this merch, and it’s a bit expensive, so I was wondering if I should buy the whole set or just Jungkook’s edition.” you rambled quickly.

Mina laughed, shaking her head. “Just buy it all! Gosh! Anyways, so I went to this island…”

You bit your lip, she believed it.

She continued ranting, and you did your best to follow along, nodding at the right moments, forcing yourself to stay present. You had to hide this—or you’d be screwed.

“Do you want to order, ma’am?”

You looked up at the waiter and nearly froze when, for a split second, you thought it was Song Hobeom standing in front of you.

You were thirty minutes early.

Last night, you hadn’t slept at all...spending hours searching for the man behind the calling card. And what you found had hit you like a truck.

He wasn’t just some random foreign stranger.

He was BTS’s manager.

The weight of the NDA had settled in slowly at first… then all at once.

The same Song Hobeom you had seen on the yacht… was the same man now appearing across articles and videos all over the internet.

“No, thank you. I’ll order later,” you politely declined. You didn’t think you could eat or drink anything at this point.

The waiter nodded and left you alone.

You let out a quiet sigh, glancing at your phone to check the time. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to steady your breathing—you couldn’t afford to panic right now.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

The familiar deep voice made your eyes snap open.

He was finally here.

He approached in a composed, almost professional manner, as if this were a business meeting rather than something that had your entire morning spiraling. Black shirt, gray board shorts and black shades.

Your gaze narrowed slightly when you noticed the large iPad and brown envelope in his hands.

You immediately stood up, quickly straightening your dress before offering your hand.

“G-Good day, uh… h-have a seat, please.” you gestured, waiting until he sat down before you did.

“Have you eaten, Ms…?” he asked, pausing as if waiting for your full name.

“Oh, it’s Y/N L/N. I a-already had lunch,” you stammered, your heart racing as you finally introduced yourself.

He smiled and nodded. “That’s good to hear. I’m Song Hobeom, the manager of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

He opened the brown envelope and showed you its contents. Like a startled kitten, you carefully took the papers.

“Have you read the file I sent you?” he asked casually, while opening his iPad.

You immediately nodded. “Y-Yes, uh… but I only scanned it quickly.”

It was true—you had replied almost instantly because you were scared he might unsend it or take it back.

He nodded. “Alright. Let me explain this to you thoroughly. Before proceeding, we require a Non-Disclosure Agreement to protect the privacy and safety of our artist. This agreement simply means that any information you may see, hear, or experience during your time with us—such as the artist’s location, conversations, or personal details—must remain confidential and cannot be shared with others, posted online, or discussed publicly,” he said in a formal, business-like tone.

You nodded quickly. “Y-Yes, I didn’t tell anyone!” you replied immediately.

He gave another nod, turning the iPad towards you to display the contract details. Then he began walking you through each section, one by one, in calm, structured explanations.

“Ms. Y/N, the NDA does not take away your rights or force you to do anything. It only ensures mutual privacy,” he stated, and you found yourself listening closely, agreeing more than questioning. The moment you had texted back was already a sign—you had chosen to proceed.

“Once signed, the confidentiality rules will remain in effect for the period stated in the document, and breaking the agreement could result in legal consequences.”

“I understand! I-I have researched how NDAs work as well.”

You bit your lip the moment you said it, suddenly realizing how desperate you sounded. You wanted to ask so many questions—why you, of all people, why this situation had landed in your lap—but you were too focused, too eager to get to the part that mattered most now.

Signing that damn contract. That was your priority.

“Good. If you have any questions or concerns, I want you to feel comfortable asking before signing—”

“No questions! I’ll s-sign,” you blurted out, cheeks warming as excitement slipped through your tone.

Mr. Song chuckled lightly and nodded before handing you an expensive-looking pen.

“Alright, please double-check the terms and conditions. Take your time, Ms. Y/N.”

But you didn’t.

Before you even properly reread the contract, you signed it...like your life depended on it. A shy, almost embarrassed smile formed on your lips as you finished.

He looked amused, like this wasn’t his first time seeing this reaction. As if he was already familiar with how quickly people surrendered to these documents.

Then he handed you the iPad for another copy.

Scrolling quickly, you signed again without hesitation.

Your eyes flickered over your own name—and then, for a brief second, your heart stuttered when you saw the name of the artist involved.

Jeon Jungkook.

Mr. Song explained the terms and conditions again. You listened eagerly, a little calmer now that you had finally secured the contract.

“Thank you for signing, Ms. Y/N. Please remember to keep everything discussed and experienced confidential as agreed,” he said with a polite smile, handing you another calling card. “Mr. Jeon will be the one to contact you directly after this for any further coordination.”

You stared at the calling card—Jungkook’s name and number printed on it—your eyes widening in shock.

This cannot be real.

-

“Ugh! I want to cry!”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, now back in your cottage, pacing in front of it like a maniac.

You had one night. One fucking night with him.

The date stated in the contract was after your vacation ended. You were already stressing about what to tell Mina for extending your stay, what to say to your professors, your parents—because you had clearly told them your trip only lasted until next week.

Jungkook hadn’t contacted you yet. It was still too early. You had no idea if he was even on the island already. The only thing you knew was that you were supposed to meet him in Executive Cottage 3 at 8 PM next week.

You still couldn’t believe it.

You had always thought NDAs were just myths—fantasies spun by fans who imagined idols risking everything for a single private encounter.

Sure, you had heard rumors that things like this might actually happen… but you never thought you would experience it yourself—with your own bias, Jeon Jungkook.

It felt unreal. Worse—or better—than a concert. One-on-one and up close.

Your cheeks warmed at the memory of the agreement, your heart picking up speed at the thought. It almost scared you how much you didn’t want to wake up in case this was all just a dream.

Sometimes you found yourself lightly slapping your cheek, as if reality still refused to fully sink in.

For months, you had been depressed over missing the ticket, and now—out of nowhere...you had the opportunity, the privilege, to meet your bias in private.

Now it made sense.

It was their last concert. Their managers were staying here to rest… and for what? To arrange potential NDAs?

Last night, after Mina’s call, you had spent hours deep in research—so deep it felt less like curiosity and more like you were preparing a thesis you somehow needed to defend. You searched everything: how NDAs worked, how participants were chosen, what would happen if you told someone, and a dozen other questions that only made your head spin the longer you read.

There was no hesitation anymore.

The moment you confirmed that Song Hobeom was actually their legitimate manager, something in you fully locked in. Any lingering doubt that the contract might be fake...or some elaborate prank—disappeared instantly.

It was real, and you had already signed it.

Your excitement had gone through the roof.

Even though you wanted to tell Mina so badly, your eagerness to meet Jungkook was far stronger. You couldn’t risk it.

“Huh? Why?” Mina questioned when she returned the next day and you immediately told her about extending your stay.

“I just want to relax more, you know… I didn’t realize the sea was this calming,” you smiled, trying to sound convincing.

You and Mina were now getting ready for the snorkeling activity. After dinner, you had decided you would break the news properly.

“Are you lying to me?” Mina raised a brow.

You went pale. “N-No, I j-just really wanted to sta—”

“You met a cute guy, didn’t you?” Mina accused, squinting at you.

You blinked, caught completely off guard by her conclusion. She knew you weren’t the type to extend a trip like this—especially with school starting next week—unless, of course, it was for BTS.

Or a cute guy.

“W-Well…”

Mina giggled. “Ha! That’s why we’re besties!”

Maybe a little white lie wasn’t so bad.

Mina told you she couldn’t extend her stay anyway since she had a presentation due next week. Even though she wanted to stay longer, you reassured her you’d be fine—and that you just wanted some alone time with your “cute guy.”

Yeah...cute guy.

-

The following days felt like a whirlwind. You enjoyed your last activities with Mina, all while quietly trying to keep it together every time the agreement flashed back into your mind and sent your thoughts spiraling.

When the last day came, you practically rushed Mina into the van just to get a proper goodbye out before she left.

Tomorrow was finally the day.

And yet, Jungkook still hadn’t contacted you.

The day before, you had already gone through a medical examination—another requirement of the NDA. You were honestly surprised at how professional it all was, how organized everything felt despite how unreal the situation still seemed in your head.

It was almost ridiculous how seriously you had started taking everything.

You shaved your entire body. Scrubbed yourself religiously every night. Applied lotion more than usual. Even started doing small morning workouts after meals, as if preparation alone could somehow calm your nerves.

“Hi, Jungkookie!” you practiced in front of the mirror, batting your eyelashes.

“Fuck! Why did I do that?” you immediately cringed, shaking your head.

You tried again, this time forcing a different tone.

“So… how was the concert?”

“I’m honored to be chosen.”

“Do I just lay here?”

“I love you. You’re my everything.”

You groaned and covered your face completely.

You had no idea what to expect. The thought of meeting Jungkook was overwhelming in every possible way—like your brain couldn’t decide whether to freeze, panic, or completely shut down.

And honestly, you were starting to worry you might faint… or embarrass yourself beyond recovery the moment it actually happened.

The contract stated “private meeting,” and you weren’t exactly Sherlock, so it wasn’t hard to conclude that it involves fucking. Especially considering they required a medical examination—surely not for a simple chat.

You almost screamed when your phone beeped with a message.

Jungkook: Hi Y/N, see you tomorrow at 8!

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” you jumped onto your bed, staring at the text like it wasn’t real.

His message was so casual, completely different from the formal, business-like tone Song Hobeom used. It almost made it feel even more surreal.

“What should I reply… oh my gosh.”

You bit your lip, carefully choosing your words so you wouldn’t mess anything up.

You: See you, Kookie!

-

The cottage was larger than yours...an executive unit reserved for upper-class guests—with soft ambient lighting, a private veranda, a small plunge pool, a carefully kept garden, a few hammocks swaying gently in the breeze, and direct access to the beach.

This area felt different, tucked away from the other cottages scattered across the busy island.

You had expected to be guided by bodyguards, but there was no one. No visible security, no presence at all. It felt intentional—like the meeting was meant to be so private that even protection would disrupt it.

Wearing a lilac wrap dress, white glittery doll shoes, and your hair curled neatly at the ends, you slowly made your way towards the cottage.

Your fingers hesitated before pressing the keycard Mr. Song had given you last week. The soft beep that followed made your nerves spike instantly—a quiet confirmation that you had arrived, and that you were allowed inside.

Once the door opened, you stepped in.

You were immediately met with a spacious bedroom featuring a king-sized bed, a lounge area, a large wooden door that likely led to the bathroom, and wide tinted windows with sliding doors that opened directly to a full view of the sea.

You stood there for a moment, taking it all in with wide eyes.

Carefully, you placed your bag beside the bed and began walking around the space, your curiosity slowly building. On the table, you noticed a selection of pastries and a neatly arranged meal set waiting, untouched.

“Hey.”

You gasped, your eyes snapping towards the bathroom door as the man you only saw on screens stepped out.

Jungkook wore nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp, droplets of water trailing down his neck and collarbones as he ran a smaller towel through his hair.

Your lips parted slightly. Fuck.

He walked toward the coffee table first, casually lifting the silver cloche to check the prepared dinner as if nothing about this moment carried any weight at all.

But for you, everything had just short-circuited.

Jungkook—right there in front of you...breathing the same fucking air.

You had seen him countless times on screens, in edited clips and fan videos—but none of that had prepared you for this. In person, his presence felt heavier, more grounded. His frame looked broader, more defined. The tattoos you had only ever glimpsed before were now fully visible under the soft lighting, detailed and striking in a way that made your thoughts scatter instantly.

Even his voice—when he spoke...carried a calm, effortless depth that made your mind go blank before it could catch up.

All the lines you had practiced disappeared completely.

You were speechless.

You couldn’t believe he was real.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, turning towards you while still holding the cloche.

Your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You stood near the couch like you’d been rooted in place, completely caught off guard.

A quiet chuckle left him as he noticed your reaction. He set the lid back down and began walking towards you.

Your breath hitched when he closed the distance. His fresh scent—clean, minty, just out of the shower—wrapped around you, sharpening your senses in an instant.

“Relax,” Jungkook said softly, his tone calm and steady as he gently placed a hand on your arm.

Warmth spread through your skin immediately, like your body had finally registered his presence all at once.

You nodded too quickly, blinking as if that could reset your brain. Your heart was pounding so hard you were convinced it had to be audible.

Jungkook smiled slightly, looking down at you. “Hmm, look at me.” he said when you kept avoiding eye contact.

You tried—but the moment your eyes lifted, you almost froze again.

Dark doe eyes met yours, steady and unreadable, holding you in place. His right hand lifted your chin just as you instinctively tried to look away again.

“Sit down on the couch for me, mhm?” he said gently, guiding you down with an easy, controlled calm.

You were so nervous, looking up at him like a shy deer. All the conversations you had prepared were completely forgotten—you were mentally blocked.

Jungkook tilted his head at you, still standing as he looked down at your form. “You okay, pretty girl?”

Your cheeks turned crimson at the compliment, and you nodded again like you had lost your voice.

Jungkook chuckled, crouching down to get to your eye level. “Talk to me, baby. Wanna hear you.”

“H-Hi,” you said in a small voice, almost choking on the words.

“Hmm, louder.” Jungkook whispered, raising a brow at you.

You gulped harshly, squeezing your own hands in nervousness. “H-Hi, Jungkook. Nice to meet you.” you said, a little clearer this time.

Jungkook smiled, sitting beside you. “There you go. Good job, baby.” he praised. “So polite.”

You smiled back shyly, your breath hitching when he took your hands—hands you hadn’t even realized you were squeezing so tightly.

“Baby, you’ll hurt yourself doing that…” he said gently, holding your hands and lightly tracing over the faint marks you had left on your skin.

“O-Oh, uhm…”

“Do you want to eat first? What do you want to do?” he asked softly, studying your nervous expression.

He was so calm, so composed, so sweet—it made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You bit your lip under his attention, suddenly hyper-aware of every small movement you made.

His gaze briefly dropped to your lips. He swallowed subtly, something shifting in his expression for just a moment before he looked back up at you again.

“W-Whatever y-you want to do…”

Jungkook raised a brow at you, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes…”

Jungkook straightened up, his gaze briefly dropping over your short dress, lingering for a moment before he looked back at the table.

“There’s a bunch of pastries you might want to try. Do you like sweets?” he said softly, opening the glass lids of the desserts in front of you.

You smiled shyly, eyes shifting towards the neatly arranged food. “Yes, I like c-cookies.”

Jungkook smiled, reaching for the tray of cookies with different flavors—chocolate chip, walnut, matcha, red velvet, and more you couldn’t even name at a glance.

You kept your eyes fixed on the cookies, forcing yourself not to look at him, especially with how near he was.

“I’ve tried walnut and matcha,” he said, pointing at a few of them.

You pouted and picked the flavor he suggested. He smiled when you chose the matcha, carefully placing the tray back down on the table.

“Do you want milk?” he asked, pointing at the bottle beside the pastries.

You nodded, taking a small bite while he poured a glass for you.

“Thank you…” you said with a shy smile.

He smiled back and stood up to get dressed while you focused on eating the cookies. When he came back, he was wearing a white shirt and black comfy shorts. He sat beside you and took a cookie for himself as well.

Jungkook was patient, sweet, and gentle with you. He occasionally asked about your hobbies, your likes, your favorite food, and small details that only your parents and Mina usually knew.

With a soft, hesitant voice, you slowly opened up—talking about how you became a BTS fan, how long you had followed them, and how much you liked him.

He listened closely, never interrupting, only asking follow-up questions like he was genuinely interested.

His eyes followed your lips whenever you spoke, then shifted to your eyes whenever you looked away. And every time your voice got smaller, he leaned in slightly, as if trying not to miss a single word—especially when you talked about him.

Neither of you mentioned the NDA.

It felt, strangely, like you were simply there to spend time with him.

You honestly thought he wouldn’t talk much, given how shy you were—but Jungkook was unexpectedly patient, giving you space to settle in and feel comfortable around him.

But then

You were giggling about his travel story with Jimin when you noticed his tattooed hands slowly settling around your waist.

“A-And what did he do?” you asked, a little startled.

Jungkook had been talking about some of their personal trips with the members. You were surprised by how open he was with you—the way he spoke during his Weverse lives was exactly the same in person: charming, funny, and easy to talk to.

You hadn’t expected him to answer your small, silly questions, but he was attentive, responding to everything like you had known each other for years. You felt, strangely, at ease.

He pouted slightly, suddenly distracted by the lace ruffles at the hem of your dress, his fingers lightly brushing and playing with them.

“Used all his perfume to spray it on the huge bug.” he chuckled lowly, his eyes still lowered towards your dress.

You giggled, imagining the chaos. “Did the bug get killed?”

Jungkook slowly looked at you, his eyes a little heavy-lidded, his hands still idly playing with the hem of your dress.

“Hmm, no.” he rasped.

Your eyes widened when he pulled you closer, his left arm circling your waist to steady you. His right tattooed hand lifted both your legs across his lap.

“You smell good.” he murmured closely, fingers now toying with the ribbons of your wrap dress.

You gulped harshly, your hands resting awkwardly on his arm for balance. Up close, he could see the details of your makeup—light glitter dusted across your cheeks and eyelids, pink gloss on your lips, a soft blush deepening from warmth, and lashes curled with a hint of mascara.

He lifted a loose strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear, then let his fingers trail lightly along your cheek.

“You dolled up for me?” he said lightly, tilting his head.

His tone had shifted—less careful now, more playful… almost teasing.

“Y-Yes… do you like it?” you asked shyly. It had taken you hours to finish your makeup, hours to pick a dress and style your hair. You were almost embarrassed when you saw that he looked so fresh and handsome after the shower, while you had taken an eternity to get ready.

Jungkook poked the inside of his cheek. He held your face with one hand, almost squishing both of your cheeks. His touch was gentle, but the way he tilted your head to examine your face made you feel weird.

Made you feel wet.

“I do,” he said lowly. “I like the glitters.”

You smiled, a bit more confident now. “Really?” you said happily, leaning a little closer to him. “Matches my doll shoes right?” You moved your toes up and down.

Jungkook nodded, his lazy eyes staring at you, then down at your dress. His hands traced slow circles on your bare thighs, making you tingly.

“I noticed something though…”

“Hmm, what?” you tilted your head curiously.

He pouted. “Your dress has no glitters, babygirl.” He slightly held the end of your dress, as if examining the texture.

You pouted. “Yeah…” You looked down. “B-But—”

Your thoughts were interrupted when he softly kissed your cheek.

“Hmm…” He slowly held the ribbons of your dress, and with one hand, he untied the knot.

“W-Wait—” you gasped, eyes widening when you saw what he was doing.

“It has no glitters, baby… doesn't match your pretty little shoes and makeup." he said in a mocking tone, removing your dress from your shoulders.

“Jungkook…” you said softly, cheeks growing hot under his gaze.

Licking his lower lip, his gaze dropped to your body.

The soft swell of your breasts was hugged perfectly by the white bra you were wearing, matching the delicate fabric of your panties. The small white ribbon resting between your breasts and the top of your underwear caught his attention—something so simple, yet enough to make his cock tighten.

You looked… soft, so pretty, too cute. Ready to be ruined by him.

His hands slowly moved to the straps of your bra “Oh baby…” he said in a cooing tone. “This doesn’t have glitters as well.” He said it like it was a problem. His fingers hooked onto the straps before pulling them away from your skin—only to let them snap back in place, the sting blooming lightly against you.

You were speechless. The way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, the way he played with you—it made your body heat up, a quiet rush of warmth settling low in your stomach.

Your instinct was to cover yourself, but the way he raised a brow at you made you hesitate, a shiver running through you instead. You blinked slowly, caught between nerves and awareness you couldn’t quite name.

“Jungkook, t-this is embarrassing.” you said in a small voice.

You thought you could be confident—years of reading fanfictions had convinced you of that. You were certain you could fuck him better, that you could show him what you were capable of. Make him feel good. Please him. Make him happy.

You had been so sure of yourself...so full of it, even—thinking you could give him the best night of his life.

But the moment he touched you, your mind went completely blank. All rational thoughts slipped away, leaving you flustered and unsure of yourself, shrinking back into a shy, overwhelmed version of you.

Jungkook chuckled sarcastically. You gasped when he suddenly pulled your hair, his lips reaching under your ear to whisper.

“You signed up for this, didn’t you?” he rasped, his lips grazing your earlobe.

You squealed, his dominance eating you alive. His sweet, teasing tone was gone; the way he pulled your hair closer made you shiver.

“Y-Yes,” you bit your lip. You felt his lips move down your neck, his hot breath tickling you.

“Hmm… do you want me to elaborate on what we’re doing here?” he said in a tone like he was talking to a child. You gasped when he slightly bit your neck.

“Sorry, I was j-just—”

He removed your bra quickly, tossing it somewhere before his fingers grazed near the swell of your breast, teasing you.

“Use your pretty little brain, baby, come on…” he said harshly, suddenly pinching your nipples, making you whimper.

Jungkook raised his head to look at you, his pupils dilated. The way he swallowed harshly when he saw your round breast and pink nipples made him leak.

“Do you know…” he whispered under your ear. “How bad…” He slightly slapped your nipple, soothing it afterward by rolling it gently between his fingers. “I wanted to fuck you?”

“J-Jungkook-”

“Look at you… you’ll let me do whatever I want, right?”

You shut your eyes tightly…followed by a slow nod, stunned by his words and actions.

He raised a brow, eyes dropping to your nipples. Your vision almost slipped when he suddenly spat on them, using his fingers to spread it over your breast.

“Yeah? You’ll let me use you?” he said in a low voice, his hands now trailing down the garters of your underwear. “Like a pretty little, sparkly slut that your are.’’

You knew what he wanted...it had been clear from the very beginning. It had already been hours, and you were still shy and hesitant. You wanted this too, but you were scared to make the first move, scared to say or do something that might turn him off.

He, on the other hand, had been patient from the start—letting you settle in, letting you eat, letting you relax, asking you what you wanted, giving you time without rushing you.

You didn’t realize the way his eyes darkened the moment you entered his room—the way they wandered down the valley of your breasts, the way they roamed over your dress that hugged your curves— showing the swell of your hips, the way his gaze followed the pout of your lips. The way your cute little glitters and doll shoes made you look like a proper little slut for him to use.

It’s been more than a year.

Jungkook had been busy with tour, with the group’s latest comeback. He had been working endlessly—promoting their new songs, filming content for a variety of brands, updating his Instagram and TikTok daily for ARMYs, practicing nonstop to show his best on tour. His schedule had been packed for over a year since their comeback.

Now that the tour had finally come to an end, it was his time to relax and unwind.

Jungkook’s stamina was unreal. Despite his busy schedule, there were times he would ask his manager to arrange private, strictly confidential meetings through NDAs.

Unfortunately, their latest tour had been much bigger, making it harder for his manager to coordinate anything outside of his packed schedule. Because of that, for the past months, Jungkook had been letting all of his sexual frustrations by himself.

It started in 2017. At first, he was the one personally choosing and approving everything himself, but after a few years—once his fame and schedule became even more intense—his manager took over the process. It became less personal and more structured, handled carefully behind the scenes.

With his level of fame, everything had to be treated with strict confidentiality and formal documentation.

For years, all the NDAs Jungkook had been involved with stayed quiet—carefully kept private, out of fear of the consequences, but also lingering with the hope of another night with him.

He was a man, after all. With his busy schedule and global fame, there was no room for commitment or long-term relationships. Everything in his life moved too fast, too publicly, too tightly controlled.

Because of that, he relied on brief, private arrangements...carefully managed and kept out of the public eye—to relieve stress and maintain some sense of personal balance amid his packed schedule.

It was almost like something carefully curated over time. He didn’t have a specific type, but his manager knew him well enough to anticipate what he was comfortable with. Over the years, everything had become more structured—quiet introductions, formal agreements, and strict confidentiality before anything could proceed.

After the tour, Jungkook had been particularly insistent on arranging an NDA soon. The long schedule and constant pressure had built up, and he needed a way to release the pent up sexual frustration.

When the team decided to extend their stay in the country after the final stop, his manager quietly began looking into possible private, strictly confidential arrangements handled under NDAs.

It wasn’t urgent—more of a routine precaution when they had extended time in one location. In most cases, it was beneficial if the person involved was already an ARMY, since familiarity with boundaries and expectations made things easier. Over time, most of the people who signed were fans in one way or another, while others were simply individuals who happened to be in the right place at the right time and agreed to the confidentiality terms.

Jungkook himself rarely interfered with the process. He trusted his manager to handle the details, especially during tours and rare breaks when privacy mattered more than anything else. The goal was simple: rest, recovery, and avoiding unnecessary exposure.

That was why his manager moved discreetly when he saw you—subtly noting your presence, your behavior, and your isolation from the crowd before eventually placing a small calling card on your table.

When Jungkook saw you standing in front of him, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, all his rational thoughts slipped away for a moment. You looked so sweet, ready to be used.

Jungkook was unbearably horny.

He wasn’t the type to extend another night, even with a potential NDA—but he was the type who wouldn’t stop fucking you once you stepped into his space. The kind who fucked hard. The kind who took control and dominated you without hesitation. The kind who would leave marks—bruises that lingered long after the night ended. Whether you were the shy type or the bold type, you would fold once he touches you, once he pulls your hair and manoeuvres your body to his own liking.

He’s mean when he fucks, praising you in a degrading way… though he would always start off sweet, to ease the tension, with his usual kind self and bunny smiles.

But, afterwards?

He would fuck you like a dirty whore, play with you like a little toy, use you like a cum dump.

When he noticed how hesitant and vulnerable you were, he took the lead by making sure you were comfortable at first. But his patience was running thin. Your sweet scent engulfed his senses—your soft voice and small giggles, your shy smile and twinkling eyes—it all made his cock twitch.

It had been months—too long without a proper release. At first, he wanted to take his sweet time with you, but your hesitance and shy demeanor were driving him crazy. Jungkook wanted to bend you over and fuck your unused holes, wanted to wrap his hands around your neck, wanted to fuck your pretty mouth until you were gagging and crying for him, wanted to feel your warm pussy wrapped around him until he could no longer think straight.

He forcefully ripped your underwear, leaving red marks on your thighs. Your body was now fully exposed to him.

“Pretty girl,” he mused, when his gaze dropped at your pussy, you instinctively closed your legs.

He gripped your thighs, forcing them open so he could look at your cunt. “Pretty little pussy.” he whispered, staring at your cunt with a faint shine visible from your wetness. “Acting so shy yet your pussy is soaking.”

“Jungkook, p-please…” you pleaded, slightly moving your legs.

“Aww, a few moments ago you wouldn’t let me see you. Now you’re pleading, hmm?” he cooed.

Your breath hitched when his index finger traced the slit of your cunt, gathering your juices.

“Oh, t-that’s—” you whimpered. 

You were long gone.

He was making you so wet and turned on. Not that you weren’t already—your shyness was already getting the best of you—but the moment he took the lead, whatever composure you had left began to slip away. Your thoughts scattered, your attention narrowing to him alone, your body reacting in a way that made you feel both overwhelmed and helplessly aware of him.

Your eyes widened when he licked the finger that had gathered your wetness, staring at you while his tongue rolled over it.

“Hmm, you taste so good.” his finger, now wet with saliva, went back down your cunt to gather your juices again, bringing it to his mouth to taste it once more.

“Do you taste yourself?” 

“N-No, I haven’t,” you admitted shyly.

He placed his wet finger on your lip. “Open,” he said sharply, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You slowly opened your mouth, his finger immediately sliding in so you could taste yourself. 

“That’s it… twirl your tongue, baby.” You obediently twirled your tongue around his finger, your saliva dripping down his hand messily. His cock twitched at the sight, he pulled his finger from your mouth with a soft pop.

“Get on the bed and spread your legs.” slapping your thigh lightly to urge you up.

You were almost dizzy, his words barely registering in your mind… you stood up, almost stumbling, but Jungkook caught your waist firmly.

“Careful, baby.” he chuckled lowly, your cheeks heating up in response.

Your legs felt weak as you made your way to the bed, Jungkook following behind. When you bent down to remove your doll shoes, he held your arm to stop you.

“Leave them.”

“O-Okay,” your brows furrowed, slowly sitting on the bed with your doll shoes still on.

Jungkook raised a brow at you. “Raise your legs on the bed.”

“But my shoes…” you pouted.

Jungkook chuckled, crouching down to level with your face. “It has glitters, baby. No need to remove it.”

You blinked slowly, the realization settling in as you recalled his earlier comment about your dress and undergarments not having any glitter details.

Raising your feet, you let your doll shoes rest on the mattress. Your legs were folded as you adjusted yourself, your wet cunt fully exposed under his gaze.

Jungkook’s hand moved absently over his shorts as he looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his attention fixed on your wet pussy. “Spread wider, baby. Hold your ankles for me.”

You spread your legs wider, holding your ankles, making yourself open for him. Your juices leaked down onto the mattress, giving him a clear view. Your cheeks and neck turned red from what you were doing for him.

“That’s it, wider.” he groaned, removing his shirt and shorts in one go. Your arms almost gave out when you saw him naked in front of you.

He was so huge—his cock red and veiny, precum leaking from the tip, his hand gripping himself, rolling the foreskin, pumping more wetness onto his mushroom head.

Jungkook moved closer, looking down at your cunt while palming himself shamelessly. “Do you like how I touch my cock?’’

You whimpered when his other hand went down to you, his middle finger sliding into your hole easily. The wet squelching sound filled the room.

“Slut,” he whispered. 

Using your wetness, he spread it around his cock like lubricant, mixing it with his precum. “You’re so wet baby, my good little whore.”

You whined, your arms growing tired from the position. When you tried to let go of your ankles, Jungkook slapped your pussy.

“Keep them open,” he said harshly, squeezing his cock tighter, releasing more precum at the tip. 

“Let me see your pretty holes, yeah?” His cheeks hollowed as he gathered saliva and spat onto your exposed cunt, letting it drip inside your wanting hole.

“Jungkook, p-please… I can’t anymore,” you whined, your body clenching around nothing. You wanted him to touch you.

“Shh, be a good doll and stay still, yeah?” he groaned, spitting down on his cock, spreading it along his shaft as he pumped faster while looking at you.

It was so overwhelming—the way he looked at you while touching himself made you so wet.

“P-Please, t-touch me.” you pleaded, your eyes glossy with need, whining when you felt more of your juices spill onto the bed.

Jungkook groaned, “Be a good fucking slut and watch me touch my cock.”

It was obscenely dirty—watching him touch his cock so fast, his gaze locked on your pussy. Every now and then, he’d gather your slick with his fingers, spreading it along his length, making himself even wetter, even more desperate.

And just when it looked like he was about to cum—he stopped.

His hand tightened around the tip, squeezing just enough to hold himself back, dragging the moment out, edging himself with a restraint that only made it worse.

“Fuck!” he quickly kneeled down in front of you, his face now very close to your pussy. When you looked down, your eyes fluttered when you saw him staring closely at your twitching hole.

“You look so tight,” he groaned, his finger tracing your cunt lightly.

“Koo…” you moaned, already shaking from the contact.

He kissed your inner thigh, occasionally biting the soft skin to leave marks. When you were already getting too whiny, he leaned in closer, his tongue pushing inside you.

“Oh, Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, the feeling of his hot tongue inside your hole making you quiver. He was pushing his tongue so deep, like he wanted to collect all your juices.

“Mhm,” he moaned, the vibration giving soft pulses down your clit. He collected all your juices, sucking them as much as possible, going deeper and deeper just to spit it right back up on your swollen clit.

“Oh my gosh—” you whimpered. He was making you as messy as possible. When he wrapped his lips around your clit to suck, you almost saw stars from the pleasure, the sensation pulsating through your whole body making you roll your eyes back.

“You like that?” he murmured while sucking your clit, his tatted finger going inside your hole, releasing more juices from you.

You nodded almost instantly, holding your ankle tighter. When he nipped harshly on your clit, you almost dropped your legs, shaking from how good his lips and tongue felt. He looked up at you, still sucking your clit while inserting another finger inside you, instantly brushing your sensitive spot.

The way his middle and ring finger brushed your g-spot made your clit pulse. With the pressure of his lips around your clit, you were close to cumming.

“Jungkook, I-I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead baby, wanna eat your cum,” he whispered against your cunt, sucking harder, his fingers moving aggressively inside you.

You were shaking. When you felt your high building, you almost pushed him away, letting go of your ankles to grip his hair.

“Jungkook! S-Stop,” you pleaded weakly. The pleasure was too much, too intense. His pace did not falter, his hand pressing your lower stomach down.

When he removed his fingers, you thought he was done, but he immediately rubbed your clit in circles, spitting down on your hood while holding your wriggling body in place.

You moaned loudly… his fingers, his mouth, his spit—all of it pushed you over the edge. You came so hard you almost fainted. 

He still didn’t stop- you were overstimulated, trying to push him away, but he wouldn’t let you, drawing more release out of you. The pressure of his fingers dragged you into another climax, making you squirt messily around him, splashing his face, his neck, his body.

“S-stop, please Koo…” you cried, shaking uncontrollably as you squirted again. His fingers still didn’t stop. His dark eyes stayed fixed on your swollen pussy, amusement etched across his face.

“Messy girl, good job baby.” he cooed, giving your pussy a light slap to coax out the remaining slick.

Your cheeks were wet with tears, your body weak from orgasm. He leaned down, holding your cheeks gently to make you look at him.

“Poor baby, let me wipe your tears, hmm?”

He leaned down, licking your tears slowly, his hot tongue dragging wetly across your cheeks.

You whimpered, your body barely holding itself together. His lips moved down to your nipple, sucking the hard bud softly, while his other hand caressed your other breast, pinching and rolling your nipples.

His throbbing cock grinds against your spent pussy, his swollen tip smearing messily against your slit, spreading his precum all over your cunt.

“Koo…” you said softly, still tired and hazy from your release.

His mouth moved to your other nipple, his teeth tugging slightly, making you gasp. You were certain you would have bruises—the way he sucked your nipple mirrored how he had sucked your clit, lingering just enough to draw a reaction, coating it in spit before taking it fully into his mouth.

“Baby, can you feel how hard I am for you?” he whispered, his cock grinding slowly against your wet pussy, his tip brushing your clit… making you wetter again. “Do you know how long I wanted to fuck a nice warm pussy?” He grabbed your neck, your lips parting instinctively. He took the chance to spit into your mouth, leaning down to slip his tongue in messily, swallowing your moans and protests. His grip tightened each time you whimpered.

“Been touching my hard cock for months baby,” His movements were slow, deliberate—drawing arousal back into your body. “Need your tight pussy so bad.” The way he rolled his hips against you, the way he silenced you with his tongue so no protests could leave your mouth.

“You wanted this?” he groaned against your lips, releasing your neck only to squeeze your breast harshly.

“Ouch, Koo—”

“Answer me,” he said sharply, tapping your right cheek.

“I w-want this,” you said with glossy eyes, small hands gripping his arm tightly.

He tilted his head at you. “Yeah? You wanted to be fucked like a slut don’t you?” he taunted, sitting up to squeeze his cock, teasing himself by twirling his index finger over his tip. “Are you a slut? hmm?”

You nodded weakly. “Would do anything for y-you.’’ you said shyly.

Jungkook raised a brow, standing up at the edge of the bed. “Come here then, crawl to me.”

It was degrading, the way he treats you like a slut for him to use… yet it makes you wetter, makes you hornier. You crawl towards him like a good whore, looking up at him with pleading, sparkly eyes. Your makeup is ruined, your hair disheveled, your doll shoes still intact, making you look like a ruined sex doll.

“Good girl, now wrap your hands around my cock.” he rasped, holding the base out for you. When your small, shaky hands felt his veiny shaft, you almost came again. It twitched in your grip, hard and flushed red at the tip.

He groaned. “Spit on it, baby. Make it nice and wet for me.”

You spat on his cock, spreading it around the base before moving your hands up and down, rolling the foreskin as you worked him. He moaned loudly, head tipping back, jaw clenched, sweat forming across the expanse of his chest.

“That’s it, what a good little whore.” he praised, caressing your hair.

You tried your best to make him feel good. You raised your other hand, spitting into your palm and spreading it together with his precum.

Jungkook groaned at the sight. Using both of your hands, you made a twisting motion along his length, looking up at him like a good girl.

“I w-want you,” you said with a bit of confidence.

Jungkook cursed under his breath. “Suck my cock.” He slapped your hands away, then pulled your hair, forcing you to take his cock into your mouth. His breath hitched when he felt you gag around him, your nose pressed against his pelvis, your eyes turning watery.

“Take it,” he groaned harshly, guiding your head up and down like you were his personal fleshlight. You tried your best to take him, even though he was so big in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

It was sloppy and nasty. Your tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, tracing the mushroom tip while you hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard. Spit and precum was leaking down your chin, your eyes glossy and red, the way you twirled your tongue to trace the veins of his cock made him groan.

“Hands behind your back,” he panted.

You immediately did what he said, your body fully under his control. When he pushed deeper, your face pressed against his pubic hair. You choked, saliva and precum bubbling at the corners of your mouth, you want to tap his leg, the air in your lungs limited.

“You look so pretty with my cock- fuck! I’m gonna cum.” he grunted, keeping you close until you felt the liquid heat spreading inside your throat. He forced you to swallow, keeping your face snug against his pelvis so not a single drop would spill.

When he released your head, you almost collapsed onto the bed. Your eyes were red, your mouth slightly bruised, and your neck ached from the way he had angled your face. Due to exhaustion, you let him maneuver your body, pushing you down and flipping you over.

“Bend over, baby. I’m not done using you.”

He was still hard, giving his cock a few more pumps before guiding it towards your pussy.

“Open your pussy, baby. Be a useful slut and spread yourself for me.”

With weak hands, you reached back to spread yourself for him, opening your folds. Your wetness leaked down your inner thighs.

“Look at you. You just came, yet your pussy already wants more… dripping all over my sheets like a whore.” he said mockingly.

You whimpered. “P-please, f-fuck me.” You were almost crying, your arms tired and your body aching from the position, but you wanted to please him so badly, wanted him to use you till you could no longer take it anymore.

Jungkook chuckled behind you. You thought he would tease you again, but you gasped when he suddenly pushed his cock inside you. Despite your earlier orgasm, the stretch was still painful, making you scream into the sheets.

“You’re so tight, fuck.” he groaned, looking down at his cock getting swallowed by your tight pussy.

He leaned down, pressing your head down further, his cock pushing deeper and deeper, making you squirm in both pleasure and pain.

“Fucking slut, so tight around daddy.” he whispered, your face buried in the sheets.

You clenched around him, whining against the mattress.

“Oh, you like that?” he taunted, pushing deeper until he reached your g-spot.

You could feel every drag of his cock inside you—his veins, his mushroom tip. The stretch was so good you were close to cumming, clenching around him as he fucked you deeper.

“Stop that, baby, I’m gonna cum.” he almost laughed, pulling your hair up so he could see your face. “Want to fuck you for hours, baby. I’m gonna use your tiny hole till daddy can’t release cum anymore. Do you want that?”

You whimpered, “Yes, d-daddy.”

He groaned harshly; the way you called him made him even hornier. He pulled out and shifted down on his side, pulling your body snug against his chest, your back pressed against him. “Keep your legs up,” he whispered, holding his cock and directing it against your leaking hole.

You didn’t expect to be fucked by Jungkook sideways. He held your waist while driving his hard cock into you, your legs spread wide in the air as his lips nipped harshly at your neck.

“Feels so g-good, daddy.” you moaned, your body bouncing slightly from the force of the way he was fucking you.

Jungkook bit your neck, his hands moving down to rub your clit. “Uhuh, daddy’s gonna fill you with so much cum and you’re gonna hold it like a good girl.’’

You moaned, trying to bite your moans back, but Jungkook slapped your clit harshly. “Moan louder,” he groaned, his balls hitting your ass as he pushes his cock all the way out just to push it harder all the way in.

“J-Jungkook.” you moaned, eyes rolling back.

“Louder.”

“Jungkook!” you moaned louder.

“Good girl,” he chuckled behind you, his fingers coming back down to rub your clit again.

You could feel your cum dripping down your thighs, the loud squelching sound of his cock fucking into your pussy and his deep groans pushing you to the edge. When he gave your clit a good rub, you came all over his cock, your pussy clenching around his girth, releasing so much cum. You held his wrist to stop him, your thighs shaking—you were certain you almost drooled from the deep pulses your cunt was producing.

Jungkook groaned behind you. You gasped weakly when he removed himself inside your twitching pussy, your cum leaking onto the mattress, but he immediately lowered his head to catch your cum, wasting no drop.

“I c-cant, too much!” you cried.

Jungkook held your thighs firmly, slurping all your juices like a starved man. When he raised his head, his chin and nose were wet from your arousal. Using both his index fingers, he opened your hood, exposing your puffy clit. He leaned down to suck it, and you gasped when you felt your cum and his warm saliva spreading.

“Oh daddy,” you moaned, another wave of pleasure rolling through your body.

He looked up at you, his tongue giving kitten licks on your clit. “Are you daddy’s good girl?” he murmured against it, his thumb circling the bud, the dual sensation making you lose your mind. “Do you like how daddy eats your pussy?”

“Yes daddy, it f-feels nice.”

“Nice?” Jungkook chuckled, sucking his thumb before rubbing his spit all over your clit. “Is this nice?” he mocked, looking at your bud as it looked so swollen and pink.

“Describe nice for me,” he growled before standing up, carrying you with him. Your thighs wrapped around his waist as he walked beside the large mirror. Using both of his hands, he held your ass and pushed his cock inside your used hole, using almost no strength to lift your body just to push you up and down around his hard cock.

You could see your reflection in the mirror—the way he used your body to pleasure himself, the way his biceps flexed every time he pushed and pulled you against him. He carried you like a feather, your body like a used, fucked-up sex doll.

“Is this… nice?” he mocked you, his lips parted as he looked at your pleasured face. He could feel your juices dripping down his muscular thighs. He chuckled at you. “Too dumb to answer, baby? Is my cock making you feel so good?”

You squealed, gripping his arms tightly as your body bounced up and down. He was going so fast, his hips snapping against you, pushing up while forcing you down, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.

“Gonna cum, baby. Would you hold my cum inside like what I taught you?” he panted, his thrusts getting sloppy, his eyes hazy.

“Y-Yes daddy.” 

Jungkook groaned, his hands gripping your ass hard, enough that it hurt. His cock drilled in so deep that you whimpered when he pulled your body close, forcing you down as he spilled all of his warm cum inside you. He groaned beside your ear, biting your neck through his intense orgasm, balls deep and snug against your ass. Your legs were shaking...you felt so full. You tried to move, but his grip was too strong. You could feel all of his cum filling your pussy, and it was so much that you could feel some of it dripping down your legs.

You thought he was done when he removed his cock inside you. Your legs wobbled as he quickly set you down on the bed, his hands palming your pussy as if to keep his cum inside you. Your eyes almost went out of their sockets when you saw that he was still hard.

“Raise your legs,” he rasped, gripping his cock from the base as he spread the cum that was left on his girth.

When you weakly raised your legs, he could see how much cum was inside your pussy, threatening to spill out.

“Touch yourself, push my cum deeper,” he said with serious eyes while staring at your hole.

Your eyes widened. “J-Jungkook, t-thats-”

‘’Come on baby, daddy’s waiting.” 

You gulped harshly. He was slowly rubbing his swollen cock, teasing the tip while waiting for you to move. Your small hand slowly reached down to your hole, pushing his cum deeper, but some of it spilled onto the bed. You tried your best to push it in further, but your past orgasm was still overstimulating you.

“Like this, d-daddy?’’ you said shyly.

Jungkook groaned, staring at his cum in your tight hole. “Good job baby, can you add another finger for me?” 

You added another finger. It was a lot easier to push his cum deeper, but your pussy was getting sensitive. You were whimpering—the fact that he was just staring at you while rubbing his mushroom tip made you chase another high you didn’t even realize was coming. The pad of your fingers brushing against your g-spot with his cum felt so good, forcing you into another mind-blowing orgasm. The fact that you came just from pushing his cum deeper felt so dirty.

“Oh my gosh, I-fuck..” you were convulsing. You removed your fingers, trying to close your thighs shut, but Jungkook held your legs. He quickly inserted his hard cock, you were still pulsating and the feeling of his cock replacing your fingers extended your orgasm, your wet pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock.

“Fuck you feel so good, Daddy didn’t stretch you enough huh? You’re still fucking tight.” he growled, his hips making a rolling motion as his fingers pinched your nipples harshly.

Your tongue was almost out, your pussy still quivering, your clit so sensitive that even the feeling of his pubic hair brushing against it felt incredibly intense.

“Gonna fuck that tight little pussy till your loose, so that everytime you touch yourself your fingers would be too small for your gaping hole.” he grunted, his hands holding both of your wrists above your head, his other hand gripping your throat. He was fucking you so hard that your body was bouncing up. He crouched down to lick your sweaty neck, then moved down to your underarm, licking your sweat messily. You tried to move your arms, but his hold was firm, licking your other underarm and creating a huge wet mess.

“I-I’m close,” you choked, chasing another orgasm, overwhelmed by how many times you had come—you were certain your pussy would be numb after this.

“Hold it, you slut.” he bit the swell of your breast causing you to scream.

He held your body up, then laid down on the bed while holding your waist, placing you on top of him.

“Ride my cock.”

Desperate for release, you positioned your body in front of him, but Jungkook stopped you.

“On your back, babygirl.” he tapped your thighs.

Your cheeks reddened as you positioned your body with your back facing him. When you sank down, you immediately moaned, your ass against his lower stomach. The stretch felt so good, the veins on his cock filling your spongey walls perfectly.

“That’s it, make daddy proud.” he groaned, holding your waist while you moved up and down on him. Your legs were aching, but you didn’t care. When you felt his right tattooed hand slapping your ass, you almost came.

“You look so pretty.” you heard him whisper, his hand caressing your ass, your brows furrowed when his hand went deeper.  “Lower your body for me.”

Confused and a bit dazed, you lowered your body while still riding him. You shrieked loudly when his fingers played with your exposed rim, circling around the hole. You held his thighs, squeezing them hard when he tried to push his thumb in, the stretch making you shiver.

“Would you let me fuck you here, baby?’’ he whispered, pushing this thumb deeper, your tight walls swallowing him.

You haven’t done that before—you can’t even imagine it. He was the first man who touched you there. You were in so deep that you desperately nodded, clenching around his cock as the thought excited you.

He chuckled, “You’re so dirty baby, gonna let me fill all your holes hmm?”

You nodded again. “Yes, only for you J-Jungkook.”

“Yeah? you love me that much huh? I bet you hump your little cooky plushies thinking it’s my hard cock instead.”

He removed his thumb from your ass just to insert his middle and index finger, causing you to scream at the stretch. "Tell me baby, how many times have you masturbated huh?" Your movements slowed down from the sensation.

“Do you fantasize about me? Fantasize about your bias fucking your slutty holes?’’ he taunted, pushing his fingers deeper, his hips pushing up to meet your thrusts.

It was embarrassing; you didn’t answer, afraid to admit the dirty things you did every time you thought of Jungkook—afraid to admit how dirty you were behind your shy demeanor and innocent looks. You liked him so much, idolized him for years, dreamed about meeting him, dreamed about attending his concert, and in your most hidden fantasies… you dreamed about being his girlfriend, what it feels like to be loved by him, to be fucked by him.

“Hmm, baby? I bet you do,” he chuckled.

He removed his fingers, slapping your ass cheeks, then flipping you down onto the bed. “My dirty little girl, touching her little holes while thinking about her bias.”

You couldn’t maintain eye contact, your fingers fiddling with the sheets when he went down to grind his cock against your pussy, both of his arms beside your head.

“Aww baby, are you shy?” he cooed, pushing his cock inside you, trying to find the angle that hits your spot.

You pouted, your eyes a bit hesitant. He held your cheeks so you would look at him. “Don’t worry… daddy’s here, I’m gonna fuck you so good and make your dreams come true.” 

He spit into your parted mouth, urging you to swallow before fucking mercilessly into your tight hole. He held your thighs, almost folding you in half. Your pussy was so stretched and swollen. He leaned down to whisper moans in your ear, his movements so fast you were impressed by his stamina at this point.

“Cum with me baby,” he panted, his thrusts getting sloppy, his mushroom tip hitting the right spot.

Jungkook forced you into another orgasm. You thought you wouldn’t cum, but your pussy was pulsating so badly, his cock still drilling inside you.

He let out a strained growl, his breathing turning heavier with each passing second. When you felt him cumming, he removed his cock from your pussy… quickly inserting it into your other unused hole.

You screamed loudly, the stretch sudden and painful… you could feel his cock pushing his cum deep inside your ass, the sensation making you shake and cry. When you tried to move, he held your waist tightly, balls snug so he could keep his warm cum inside.

He kissed your cheek, “So good for me, so pretty, so tight.” he whispered.

You thought he was done, but when he kissed you hard, his tongue dominating yours, you realized he wasn’t fully sated yet. He pulled you onto the nearest table, bending you over, your hands gripping it for support.

“Lift your leg here, baby,” he instructed, lifting your other leg so you were exposed to him.

The memories were hazy—you remembered him fucking you on the table while your cheeks burned red from the way he pushed you down. You could see the reflection in the mirror, your doll shoes still intact, the table wet from your drool. After that, he fucked your breasts, urging you to suck the tip like a good little whore.

Every time you thought he was done, he would pull you back again, whispering dirty praises about how you were such a good slut for him. His stamina was so impressive, and you were also impressed that you managed to stay awake the whole time.

Even when he was washing you up, he was very sweet, washing your hair and body, yet his fingers were still trailing down your swollen pussy. You protested, but he told you not to worry, saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna rub the pain away,” while rubbing your pussy in slow circles, causing you to release another orgasm in the shower.

Before you drifted off to sleep, you felt him spreading your legs, whispering. “Last one pretty girl, let me leave you a present when you wake up, yeah? All nice and wet in the morning.” 

It felt almost unreal—like something pulled from a dream you weren’t fully ready to believe had happened.

When you woke up, Jungkook was no longer there.

Your body felt heavy, drained in a way that made even small movements difficult. You shifted under the covers, blinking slowly as reality started to settle in piece by piece.

The room was quiet. When you sat up, your gaze fell to your doll shoes placed neatly nearby. 

You stared at them for a long moment, your chest tightening in a way you couldn’t quite explain. A quiet reminder that last night had not been a dream.

You weakly stood up, wearing a comfy oversized shirt you were certain was his. Walking over to the table, you noticed a set of breakfast meals laid out—eggs, waffles, bacon, fruits, and a pitcher of orange juice.

Still a bit dazed, you sat down on the couch and stared at the food in front of you, your mind struggling to catch up with reality. Last night still felt distant, almost unreal...like something your brain hadn’t fully accepted yet. But every time you shifted slightly and felt the marks on your skin, the memory returned sharply.

It was real.

You knew the rules. You would never see him again, you would never contact him again, and anything that happened that night would stay with you—carried quietly, taken to your grave.

Your eyes grew teary, not because you regretted it, but because some part of you wished it didn’t end so quickly.

Wished it lasted longer.

You knew better...that you and him were not in a fairytale. You wouldn’t be the special girl who eventually ends up with him. You weren’t inside some ridiculous fanfiction where he would text you afterward, telling you he missed you, that he wanted to see you again, that he might even love you.

Pure fiction.

Looking at the food in front of you, your eyes caught a small folded paper tucked beside the plate.

When you opened it, you had expected something sweet—maybe a cute note, maybe his number. You already knew the number he used wasn’t personal anyway, just an exclusive one-night line tied to the NDA.

“Dollshoes.”

It was written quickly, but you recognized his handwriting immediately.

You looked around and spotted a paper bag beside the bed. You stood up at once, walking towards it, your hands already shaking before you even reached it.

Carefully, you opened it.

Inside was a pair of glittery doll shoes.

You searched for a note, but there was none.

You pouted slightly, your heart still skipping at the small gesture. It wasn’t much—but it was something. At least he had left something for you.

It had been months since that night, but you would never forget it.

You told no one—not Mina, not anyone, not even in passing. You were almost afraid that speaking it out loud would make it less real… or worse, make you forget it entirely, reducing it to something that only felt like a dream.

Over the months, something else slowly clicked into place.

While reviewing your notes one day, your eyes drifted absentmindedly to your tote bag. Only then did you notice the small cooky keychain attached to it.

It had to have been what his manager saw.

A quiet sense of relief settled in you then—knowing that despite changing bags since that day, you had never taken it off.

You also tried to think harder—why did he give you a pair of doll shoes? Does he do that with all his hookups? Does he give them a farewell gift too after sleeping with them?

The thought left a strange mix in your chest. A little sadness and a little jealousy you couldn’t quite justify.

And yet, the doll shoes still felt like a strong reminder that you were once his...like he gave you something so you wouldn’t forget him.

Sometimes you would even wonder if everything that happened was only your imagination. His manager’s contact number, Jungkook’s number—gone from your phone. The NDA had included a strict no-contact clause, and everything tied to that night had disappeared with it.

Afterward, you didn’t see them anymore, and you had no idea whether they had even stayed in the country or left immediately.

The moment the marks on your body began to fade, you almost cried—like something of him was slowly slipping away from you too.

Wearing the doll shoes he gave you, you sat in a nice outdoor coffee shop with your laptop and a hot latte.

It had been almost a year.

Despite the beautiful view around you, your attention was fixed on your screen. You were writing a paper—your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment longer than necessary, like they understood something you didn’t want to admit.

You had been careful. Writing the details with precaution.

You changed the places, the countries, the names. You rewrote reality until it no longer belonged to anyone but you. Until it couldn’t be traced back—not to him, not to that night, not to the NDA that should have never felt real in the first place.

You even made sure to hide it in plain sight.

Just another fanfiction.

Just another story.

Just enough to protect yourself.

Just enough to protect him.

Your foot tapped lightly beneath the table, uneven, restless. A habit you picked up a year ago. A habit you never lost.

And then you wrote it—the memory still too fresh to feel like a memory at all.

“Please, please, please!” you whispered to yourself, fingers crossed tightly as you stared at the three screens in front of you.

And for a brief second—you wondered if anyone would believe it was just fiction.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

© 2026 ggukiebar, all rights reserved

you had an adamant rule that you weren’t allowed to have favourites, as it went against every moral code in your heart, but you simply couldn’t help yourself. little arin was perhaps the cutest little four year old you had ever come across, with manners, big sparkling eyes and an even lovelier disposition. you heart practically sang whenever she raised her hand to answer a question, or when you’d see her jumping around so cutely.

tonight was parents evening, and you knew you had a long stretch ahead, with some parents being more difficult to handle than others. you were often blamed for tiny things, and though that was just the life of a teacher, it still stung when you knew you gave it your absolute all. regardless, you put on a brave face as you set up your station in the large hall, watching other teachers do the same.

“you sorted?” your best friend, and colleague, yejin asked beside you, stacks of books propped on her hip as she approached your desk.

looking up, you gave her a grin. “yeah, even put sweets out this year. hope that means everyone’ll be nice this time.”

“i still stand by the fact anyone that can be mean to you is a psychopath.” she scoffed with a shake of her head, pushing a strand away from your face. “you got a big line up?”

“yeah, all the parents are coming. arin’s can’t make it, but i think they said her uncle will be attending instead.” you hummed, propping a sweet in your mouth.

she hummed too, putting her books down at the station beside yours. “lucky. i’ve had three drop outs already. can’t wait for them to get annoyed in two weeks because they feel misinformed on their child’s education.”

you laughed, shaking your head at her typically snarky behaviour.

the next few minutes were dedicated to making sure each of you tables were organised, so that parents could come to you during their allocated slots. yours, of course, stood out from the others, with a meticulous level of care going into all of your decorations. your kids loved coming with their parents for that sole reason, and you found that any tension from the adults were always lessened at the sight of effort being put in.

student books were organised alphabetically so they could have a look through, with examples of some of the work you had been teaching. colourful, phonics flashcards sat bundled in ribbon, with the children’s latest paintings all hung up behind and in front of you.

time began to trickle on rather quickly, with parents coming in and leaving, most polite, asking all of the right questions, but of course some left snide remarks. always something along the lines of their badly behaved children deserved better treatment, or that they wanted more attention, despite you doing every possible thing to do exactly that already.

by the time the night was winding down, you grimaced, looking at the time. it was late, with most teachers having finished up, but you still had one little student left. you reached for her file, heart already fond at the sight of her name.

“your little shadow’s next.” yejin teased quietly to you, packing up her own things.

you smiled with a shake of your head, not looking up as you prepared for your final appointment, crossing something out. you were told two weeks in advance that arin’s parents couldn’t attend, due to some family matter out of town, meaning her uncle would take their place. you couldn’t remember his name for the life of you, jaemin? juyeon? junghwan?

you were pulled from your thoughts as a small shadow loomed over your desk, your eyes peering up to meet large orbs adorned with the shyest of smiles.

“hi miss.” she waved, cheeks already red, cute hair pulled into pigtails similarly to how she always wore it.

“hello sweetheart. your dress looks so pretty!” you cooed, giving her a small high five to which she excitedly jumped to reach, causing you to smile. “mm.. uncle kook bought it yesterday for me.”

“that was so nice of him!” you nodded along, and as she turned in circles to show you properly, another looming shadow appeared.

this time, it completely engulfed you, with the scent of pine and musk hitting your nose almost instantly. your brain took a moment to catch up as it breathed in the intoxicating smell, your own large eyes peering up to meet those who you assumed was arin’s uncle.

oh.

oh.

whatever you had expected..this? this was not it.

dark hair, darker eyes, milky skin with piercings adorning his features, tattoos pouring down his arm as his t-shirt sat comfortably on his body. despite it being oversized, it did nothing to hide the pure size of him - shoulders broader than you had ever seen on anyone, chest puffed, height towering over you with ease.

a nasty part of your brain that you kept hidden away wondered what it would feel like to be between his biceps as he pushed tight.

worst of all, it looked like he was examining you too. you wished you could say he was doing it in a polite way, but with the way his eyebrows were pulled tight, his lips parted, his eyes trailing up and down you slowly, as though he was hungry..there was no civility in the way he devoured you.

you were polar opposites.

you, in your sweet cardigan and flowery skirt, hair tucked behind your ears and glasses pushed up your nose - you were picture perfect, exactly as his niece had described.

when jungkook’s sister had asked him to look after arin whilst her and her husband went to visit her in laws, he was more than happy to do so, loving her more than words. what he hadn’t realised was how excited she’d be to go to school every morning, with minute long rambles about the pretty teacher with the even prettier smile who wore cute dresses and made her hair all nice.

it was hard for his intrigue not to build after a while, especially once she had come one day almost screaming about how badly she wanted a strawberry dress because you too had worn one that day. he had taken her out immediately, closing his tattoo shop, and got to work, scouring every shop until he had managed to score one - to which she demanded she’d get to wear it for parents evening to properly show you.

seeing you now, all doe eyed and heart lipped, jungkook realised you were everything she had described and so much more. oh, you were sweet alright, the seconds long interaction with arin proved enough, but the decorations around you, your outfit, your demeanour, your voice. god, your voice.

you were a fucking problem.

for a moment, neither of you spoke, which in any other circumstance would have been entirely awkward, and yet you both stayed slightly rooted. somehow you both needed those beats of silence to really absorb one another, as though you were both slightly reeling from shock.

a scrape of a chair somewhere in the hall brought you back to life.

“oh..” you pushed your glasses up your nose, cheeks heating as you realised you had been staring. your brain failed to recognise he was still doing so. “i’m sorry..you must be..?”

he nearly grunted at the sound of your voice directed at him, liking it too much already.

“jungkook.”

you wanted to shudder, feeling almost humiliated by the reaction you were having to him. you peered down, watching as he extended his hand almost instantly towards you.

with a slightly shaking touch, your hands connected, his fingers swallowing your own whole. your limb was hidden within his in an almost comical way, your eyes connecting once more as sparks fluttered all over you over a mere touch. you felt like a school girl.

warm, calloused fingers, adorned with tattooes, caressed your own slightly, so gently you wondered whether you were imagining it, although it lasted so briefly. he didn’t let go until it began to border on confusion, slowly dropping your hand just as you spoke.

“miss y/l/n.” you managed.

“i know.” he responded almost immediately.

you didn’t catch the way his hand flexed beside him, still relishing your touch.

of course he knew. he was a man, after all, and after the first few times his niece proclaimed her love for her pretty teacher, his curiosity grew a million. seeing you now, it was very quickly making sense.

it was just something about you. you were lodging under his skin.

arin, oblivious to you both, tugged on his sleeve for his attention, pushing him towards the seats in front of the desk.

something in your chest bloomed at the sight of him so obedient to her, as he immediately listened, sitting down in the much smaller chair. it was endearing to see such an intimidating man folding for her with ease, and even sweeter watching her climb up onto his lap before he had even settled.

his arms caged her in protectively before looking up at you, the two making an adorable duo, something that had your heart utterly melting. she clearly adored her uncle, and he too was enamoured by her.

“well,” you said, forcing yourself back to reality, sitting down and reaching for her work folder. “shall we talk about this little one?”

“please.”

he leaned forward slightly, the change in position causing a small flush on your cheeks. his scent was intense.

“she’s doing beautifully.” you pulled out her phonetic workbook. “especially in reading, she’s picking things up quickly and really showing signs of independence. she’s choosing the books she wants to read, and they’re varying in difficulty which is always great to see.”

arin shyly hid her face in his chest, a sight so adorable you wanted to scream.

you smiled. “why don’t you tell your uncle what word you read all by yourself today?”

a pause. then, quietly..

“caterpillar.”

your smile only grew as you clapped your hands lightly, so pleased with her progress. “yes!”

her smile matched yours before peering up almost excitedly to gage his reaction.

“you didn’t tell me that, bug.”

jungkook was leaning down at her, face so soft, so unguarded, that it was hard to forget he had been looking at you non stop for the past several minutes, as though he was imagining every single possible sin.

“forgot.” she hummed back at him, causing him to laugh quietly, planting a kiss to her nose before murmuring something about how proud he was.

your stomach did something silky at the sound.

god, were you ovulating?

you leaned back, ignoring the flush in your cheeks and the shake of your fingers, pulling out work sheets, early writing, drawings she had made, even the class project she had contributed with. you were surprised at how eager he was, asking questions with genuine care, all whilst arin played with his hands, cuddling into him casually.

“she’s struggling to speak up in groups?” he grunted a little. “only a little, at the beginning. she warms up quickly, but she’s quite hesitant at first.” you nodded.

“is that a bad thing?” he asked quietly, as a means to not let her hear in case it was.

to that, you shook your head immediately. “no, not at all. some children just like to listen first, it’s quite natural. they like to assess before they leap in, it’s a safety thing.”

his eyes met yours once more at that, his lips pursing. “safe.” he repeated.

he tasted the word as though it had kept out of your own mouth and into his own, as though he could savour you with a single 4 letter combination. the way he assessed you then almost made you feel self conscious, as you watched his eyes trickle down from your own, to your lips, your neck, your chest, before trailing all the way back up.

your pulse skipped. your fingers were really restless now.

“her favourite lesson is art by far. her drawings are so sweet, she often takes them home for her parents. she’s working on a big project right now, with some of the older children, for the school library.”

“doing a butterfly, uncle koo.” she murmured, leaping at the opportunity to tell him. “it’s blue and pink.”

“yeah?” he hummed down at her, brushing her hair away from her face. “bet yours is the best one.”

to that she giggled loudly, as though he had said the funniest thing on the planet, a small but sure smirk forming on his face at her reaction. you smiled yourself, finding the two sweeter than most.

“she loves butterflies.” you added softly, as you took out some more drawings. “she tends to go out near the bushes during free play, or she’s near the nature corner trying to rescue something.”

jungkook was fucking enamoured by you. your small little smile, the way your lips pulled back to reveal such sweetness. a guy like him didn’t feel like this - this was odd. unheard of. confusing.

“rescue something?” his eyebrows raised.

“worms, mostly.”

his mouth twitched. “sounds like her.”

arin looked up with a small pout, still playing with one of his silver rings. “one was hurt.”

“i know bug, you told me.” he assured.

“she asked to put it into a shoebox. she brought leaves, twigs, made little breathing holes.”

this earned you a larger smile on his face as he let out a soft laugh, something that nearly had your breath taken away. he completely transformed, as though it was the loveliest thing he had ever heard.

“yeah? did it survive?” there was a teasing tilt to his tone.

“for three lovely days. you held a funeral for mr worm, didn’t you arin?” you hummed lightly down at her, to which she nodded immediately, jungkook closing his eyes momentarily as a huff of amusement left him.

you couldn’t help but watch him almost eagerly as he again, murmured something down at her, to which she smiled bashfully. he was all hard edges, tattooed and pierced, and yet he was putty for his adorable niece.

“she’s sensitive, definitely, which isn’t a bad thing whatsoever but it does mean socially she’s still catching up.” you softly proceeded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. jungkook watched it. “she’s made some lovely friendships this year, and they’re really solidifying.”

“yeah, she keeps mentioning a yuna..”

you brightened. “yes! they’re really inseparable at the minutes it’s so, so cute!”

“she also tells me she likes when you read stories.” he added.

you blinked at him softly, tilting your head with a slight hum of confusion.

“said something about different voices. she keeps asking me to read her sleeping beauty.”

you let out a soft laugh at that, shaking your head. “some of the girls have been coming in during their play time and asking to be read a book. they’re on a princess kick at the moment.”

to that, he huffed in amusement once more. “yeah, she keeps telling me to get out. something about her prince charming will wake her up.”

“he will.” she grumbled a little quietly in his arms, to which you smiled widely.

“i’m happy you like them.” you redirected, happy that your students were enjoying reading enough to enact it at home.

“curious about these different voices.” jungkook interested, eyebrow raised. “show me.”

“show..you?”

“what, that bad?”

you laughed, unable to hold it in. “dreadful.”

“now i really need to see.” he couldn’t help the mischievous glint in his eyes, still too busy being enamoured by you to stop staring so openly.

“i’m not doing voices at parents evening.” you continued to laugh, shaking your head, but the pink glow on your cheeks gave you away.

“a shame. i’ll be thinking about it tonight.” he murmured casually, as though he wasn’t openly telling you that you’d be on his mind.

your stomach flipped.

before you could even conjure up a response, arin suddenly tugged a folded piece of paper your way, almost buzzing with excitement as she peered up at her uncle momentarily too.

“look, miss!”

you smiled automatically at her, unfolding it with a quiet “what’s this?”, stretching out the paper to see.

and immediately, you froze.

a drawing, one of her many cute ones of course. the sun in the corner a stark yellow, the green of the grass at the bottom alongside the lovely house in the background. in the middle of the paper stood arin, in her cute dress and pigtails, both of her parents by either side, with a large love heart above their heads. what had you shaken, however, were the two figures to the side, also holding hands, one that resembled her uncle a little too well, and the other? one look and you knew that was you.

above you both sat an even bigger red heart.

you couldn’t have even played the plausible deniability card, considering both figured were labelled with a terrible scrawl of “miss” and “koo”, further causing you to inhale sharply.

“arin..” you choked out.

she simply ignored your state, pointing and labelling everything. “this is mummy and daddy and that’s me, and that’s our house and this is you miss, and this is uncle koo and we all live together.” she rambled.

your eyes were widening as you made the mistake of looking up directly to jungkook, unsure of what to say or do. he, however, seemed absolutely enamoured by the picture, focusing directly on the both of you.

“yeah? what’s this, bug?” he asked her, pointing at the massive love heart.

“means love.” she casually snuggled into his chest, as though it was completely normal. in the case of a four year old, that much felt true.

his lips lifted at the corners, in clear satisfaction. “you did good. let’s put it on my fridge when we get home, yeah?”

you let out a small little noise, as though what you were hearing was utter madness disguised in a bow. he was staring at the drawing in a way that had you genuinely confused, as though he was considering it to be a reality, as though he hadn’t just met you mere minutes ago.

as though it represented something so much bigger.

“she likes stories..” you managed, trying to make the mood a little lighter out of embarrassment.

he finally peered up at you, eyes so much darker than usual. “she’s observant.”

you weren’t sure what to say, your shaking fingers now in your lap as yejin quietly watched from the desk over, practically enamoured by the sexual tension radiating off of both of you. you were bewildered, thrown off your professional course as you simply went blank, all thoughts gone of out of the window.

thank god, arin, your saving grace, yawned loudly into jungkook’s chest, pulling you both out of the trance you were ultimately locked in. you watched as he hoisted her onto him more securely, before finally standing up, height completely looming over you in a way that had your gaze slightly glazed over. he wanted to see that look again. desperately.

“thank you for your time. this has been..insightful.” jungkook murmured, just as you stood up, smoothening your skirt.

you were sure your cheeks were on fire at this point, as a mixture of humiliation, curiosity, and frankly, hot need coursed through you at both the sight of him and his words.

“t-thank you for coming.” you stuttered out, nodding lightly, as he simply stood watching you for a few extra moments.

jungkook’s gaze only left yours to trail over you fully now, up and down as though he was savouring the sight of you, his fingers grazing the bottom of your cardigan instinctively, almost desperate to feel the woven strawberries his niece had gushed about so earnestly. he watched your breath hitch, his ego climbing as he realised he had the exact same effect that you were having on him.

oh, he was about to ruin you.

with a good night, you watched him leave, niece resting her chubby face on his shoulder, all whilst you slumped back into your chair, completely exhausted from the interaction. yejin all but leaped towards you, hands on your desk with wide eyes.

“oh. my. fucking. god.” she whispered down at you, to not cause any alarm with other teachers and parents.

you were fucked.

—

the weeks after parents evening were easily some of the most challenging of your adult life so far. to say you were being tested was an understatement, as your integrity of being a teacher came into challenge by none other than jeon jungkook.

you were notified that arin’s parents had to stay back for an additional two weeks, meaning you were seeing him on a minimum twice a day, five days a week. though the interactions were fleeting, both at drop off and pick up time, he took advantage of every seconds.

first came the fleeting touches. he’d watch as you handed the children back to their parent’s, taking the time to speak to each one earnestly, saying your goodbyes to sweet cherubs who would wave eagerly back at you. whenever it was his turn, he watched as your cheeks flushed pink almost immediately, your lips parting, brain malfunctioning in real time.

“pretty dress.” he had said to you once, as his niece bounced over, his fingers lightly grazing your wrist. “i like pink on you.”

“thank you.” you were sure your cheeks were on fire at this point, much to his amusement.

another time, he had grazed his fingers against your wrist, feeling your pulse for a moment too long as you handed him arin’s bookbag, a soft gasp leaving your lips at the contact. judging from his cool and collected demeanour, you assumed he wasn’t as affected as you were, but you couldn’t have been further from the truth.

jungkook’s entire mind had become you. your dresses. your floral perfume. the cute way you’d push up your glasses. there really only was one word to describe you as, and that was adorable - a stark difference to his darker being.

he’d go to work, opening up his tattoo shop, having to take regular breaks during sessions just to smoke a whole fucking pack of cigarettes in hopes you would leave his brain. this wasn’t normal. it wasn’t healthy. he didn’t know you. he didn’t know you. he didn’t know you.

and yet, he knew you. all little arin would do day and night was talk about her lovely teacher, and how excited she was to go to school, how upset she’d be that the weekend was coming. it was hard not to think of someone already stuck in your mind when the world would put them in every direction you’d look in.

he liked hanging back whenever he’d pick her up, too. one time, he had come in late to pick up, the school gate closed, meaning he had to walk through the long way into reception. it took him a while but once he reached your classroom, the sight nearly had him letting out a shaky breath.

his niece, colouring, so adorably, as you cooed down at her, guiding her to do it within the lines, giving her praise all the whilst she beamed.

once he had made his presence known, he stayed behind for another 20 minutes just to speak to you. he wasn’t much of a talker, but he couldn’t help but hover around you, listening as you shyly answered his questions. he felt ridiculous, asking anything just to get your attention, even asking about lesson plans to hear you light up and talk.

jungkook was a domestic man. he didn’t look like one, not with his appearance, all tatted and rough, but he had always wanted a family of his own - one look at you and his breeding kink was already blaring loudly within his ears.

oh, he had big plans for you.

y/n. you’d look good next to him, he thought, all sweet and doe-like. men like him ruined girls like you, but he wanted to be better than that, and be worthy of you. he had his own business, a good place in the city, enough money in the bank to spoil you rotten, a good head on his shoulders. he could offer you stability. could offer you so much and more.

the pair of you were ruined.

half term finally arrived, and it felt like both relief and punishment.

relief, knowing that you were spared jungkook’s presence, allowing your brain to finally exist once more in comfort, without the constant push and pull of how much you wanted him. he had become your personal brand of torture.

punishment, knowing that he was no longer in your presence regularly. arin’s parents had come home earlier than planned, meaning jungkook had simply stopped coming one day, a small frown on your face at the thought.

you had spent the last fortnight in what could only be described as pure anticipation, body learning his schedule before your mind could ever keep up. his heavy presence, his darkening eyes that would watch you with each passing move at exactly 3.15, when the children would finally come out.

he was always on time, always watching, always saying just enough, but never too much. it made it so much worse when you compared it to some of the other dads who flirted casually, openly, directly - jungkook stalked.

there had been the afternoon where he leaned against the doorway to your classroom, watching arin pack up, having stayed behind for an afternoon club. black t-shirt, sweats, hair slightly messy - he looked so good that you had to turn your back to him, leaning up to blutack things onto the wall.

“you always dress like this for work?” he asked you from across the room, heavy gaze following you shamelessly.

you peered over your shoulder nervously. “like what?”

he didn’t respond, tongue in his cheek as he openly checked you out, head tilted before his niece hopped over, shouting out a sweet bye bye to you. you watched as he was pulled away, his eyes hovering over every inch of you, only pulling up to meet your eyes once he was about to properly leave.

you shook your head at the memory.

tonight was different. it felt so much heavier than usual, so much more impactful, and exactly what you needed.

dressed in a dress that was obnoxiously short, you looked at yourself in the club bathroom, eyes dazed, skin slightly sticky from the heat of packed bodies. your body was on show, a complete 180 of what you typically looked like, with alcohol booming through your veins, providing you with a candied reality.

the club pulsed around you as you pulled down your dress at the bottom, pulling your straps up your shoulders to stabilise it over your breasts, you legs on show, your tiny, lacy panties ready to be seen underneath if you even thought of bending over. violet lights sparked in every corner, and though the bathroom was empty, you swore you could still feel everyone around you.

yejin had insisted you go out with her tonight, your other best friend jimin tagging along in the name of a good night.

something along the lines of, “more alcohol and even more bad decisions.”

you had let them dress you, style you, even down to the lack of bra underneath the dress, with him scoffing at the thought, letting out a mutter of how it would ruin the silhouette of the dress.

you were so used to looking like innocence personified that it felt euphoric to finally become sin, and as you entered the club once more, you felt yourself become engulfed in it. you had been here for an hour or so, and already multiple men had hit on you, buying you drinks, going so far as to openly grab you but it did nothing.

none of them compared. none of them were him.

you felt plagued, whining every time your lips touched the rim of a glass, remembering him even in your moment of desperation. you were here to forget him, not to remind yourself of his presence.

oh, but only if you knew.

if only you had looked around you.

if only you had actually opened your eyes.

jeon jungkook rolled his shoulders for the umpteenth time that night, tense, jaw locked and hardened as he watched your scantily dressed body saunter around, hands tied into that of your friends. he watched as you drank your cocktails, rolling your eyes as men tried to approach you, your dainty fingers pushing against their chest with a dismissive look.

who were you?

he hardly recognised you. no, he was used to the strawberry dresses, the flowers you often tucked behind in your ear, the cute dresses that touched your calves, your sweet ballet flats. your eyes would scrunch with each and every smile, head tilting as your hair sat in buns and ponytails.

you right now, however, were not that girl.

there was something sultry imbedded into you, with the way your hair sat so sleek down your back, your skin on show and your giggles hidden behind a manicured hand. god, he had never been harder in his fucking life. his girl, was this really you?

he had every intention of coming to you after half term, to properly ask you out, just like a girl you deserved. seeing you now made his brain malfunction - why the fuck would he wait, when you were right here, right now, all his.

he had been here just as long as you had, and considering this was his friend, jin’s, club, he had been lounging in the vip, nursing a drink. he looked angry, with every person looking at him avoiding him, when in reality he was watching with staggered breath.

there really was nothing casual about the way jungkook watched you.

his friends had long stopped trying to talk to him, with conversations around the vip section becoming static in his ears whilst his world narrowed to the little slip of skin exposed when your dress rose higher as you danced.

he had downed his drink within seconds, with his newest sitting untouched for twenty minutes.

it sat sweating beside his hand, long fingers drumming against the glass, his body restless as he sat, trying to leave you be. he wanted to be respectful. fuck he was trying to do right by you, leave you alone.

namjoon said something, beside him, and yet he couldn’t hear a single word because you were laughing. your head tipped back throat exposed, whilst some stranger took it as ample opportunity to come closer to you, whispering something into your ear.

jungkook’s jaw locked even harder.

“that the teacher?” namjoon asked, with a low whistle as he traced his friend’s eye-line, catching sight of the pretty lady.

he couldn’t answer.

not when you had taken that very moment to turn, and your dress. fuck.

it clung like sin.

all those prim and proper outfit choices felt blasphemous to think about now, especially now that he had seen you in all of your glory. all those sweet, pastel dresses he had spent weeks dreaming about, peeling them off of you inch by inch, were now replaced by the sight of you in front of him, practically naked.

he genuinely couldn’t breathe.

he should have looked away, he owed you that much. instead, his mind became uglier - thoughts of wondering hands, strangled moans, that pretty dress pushed up to your waist. god, he’d ruin you. you’d let him too, from the looks of it.

“you look sick.” jin grumbled as he sat beside his friend, pouring namjoon a drink. “what are you moping about? this isn’t a good look for me, you know.”

“feel worse.” jungkook let out a humourless exhale, rolling his shoulders once more.

the disgusting realisation that he had tried to be good was enough to drive him insane, because that was the problem. he had tried to court you right, respectfully, like you deserved - tried to keep his filthy thoughts of touching something as soft and delicate as you far away, only to walk into a club and find his sweet teacher dressed like every bad thought he had ever had.

he was done. done pretending like he was unaffected, and done pretending like he wasn’t absolutely enamoured by you. he had never felt like this towards anyone in his life, not even the long term relationships he had been in - he didn’t just want you. he wanted to own you.

possessiveness and ownership ran at the forefront of his mind whenever he looked at you, and he knew it was sick, but the part that flickered inside of him whispered into his ear that you wouldn’t mind the idea whatsoever. an even more fucked up part of your mind promised him that you would like it.

every man had his eyes on you and enough was enough. the bartender, the sleazy guys, even the ones with extra money in their pocket - enough. you were his. surely you knew that by now?

he catalogued every single face, making good note of what they looked like before finally standing up in all of his glory, shoulders wide, biceps tense. his chair had lightly scraped, capturing the attention of all of his friends, who watched as he finally began his descent away from the vip section, and right to where you were.

-

you didn’t know where the heat was coming from anymore. the club was warm, the alcohol even warmer as it ran down your throat, rendering you officially tipsy. you were practically on cloud 9, finally able to breathe and enjoy yourself the way you wanted and planned.

something else, however, had began pricking at your senses.

you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you knew it was ridiculous considering you could actively feel multiple eyes on you, wandering gazes from men who wanted nothing more than to sink their teeth into you but this was different. it felt different.

you tried ignoring it, only to fail, as every few seconds your body kept reacting to something in the unseen, the hidden. your thighs felt restless, your throat tight, your skin far too aware of your surroundings - you blamed it on the tequila.

“you’re flushed!” yejin shouted over the music.

“yeah..i feel really hot.”

jimin laughed. “that’s the point.”

you rolled your eyes at him, pushing his shoulder gently as he twirled you both. you took one last sip of your chilled drink before glancing at the bar.

“i need another.” you groaned, already ready to get drunk, but the lack of liquor was proving to be a problem. “wait, get me one too, i’m about to finish this.” jimin asked, giving you a pearly smile.

you nodded dramatically, before turning to the bar, fighting your way through a sea of people. you could feel hands all over you, and though they weren’t welcome, you weren’t annoyed by them either, as they only added the euphoric state of your mind. you moved around people in a blur of neon and heat, lights flashing down on you harshly before you managed to get to the bar finally.

bass thudded through the floor, so much so that you could feel it in your heels, and through your ribs. you squeezed up to the bar, solidifying yourself a place before politely calling out to one of the bartenders.

nothing. he completely ignored you, causing you to frown, trying once more, earning a passive look before he turned to serve someone else.

you pouted, head tilting in a mixture of tipsied offence and confusion. “rude..”

before you could even conjure up anything else, or try again for that matter, you felt something against you.

a large body pressed against yours, tightly, to which you could feel every ridge, every bite of muscle engulfing you in that very moment until you could do nothing else other than simply gasp. you froze, breath held in your chest, as you watched two large arms snake from either side of you, caging you meanly into the bar with no escape.

you would have recognised those tattoos anywhere.

you froze, your breath completely stalling as you were crowded completely against the bar edge, your front pressed harshly, whilst your back was pushed against heated skin. you were crowded, deliberately, intentionally.

pine. musk. him.

your lips parted before your brain could keep up, just as you felt breath touch your ear.

“that pout for him?”

your knees nearly buckled.

your shaking hands pushed back against him just slightly, enough to turn in his arms and see for your own two eyes whether this truly was a reality. big mistake.

you stood face to face with jungkook, his head dipped low, eyes capturing your own almost instantly. his tattoos were so much clearer under neon lights, his piercings glinting, his eyes so dark, his shoulders so wide. you genuinely couldn’t comprehend this. couldn’t fathom he was here, capturing you so no one else could have a look.

claiming you.

he looked almost offended by how beautiful you looked in that moment, all starry eyed and heart lipped.

“jungkook.” your voice came out shaky, breathless even, so much smaller than intended.

his gaze dragged over your face visibly. over your eyes, down to your nose, dragging against your lips, grunting once he looked down at your body, before coming all the way back up to meet your stare once more.

“baby.”

your stomach flipped so hard you gripped the bar behind you harshly.

“what..what are you doing here?”

his jaw clenched. “watching you.”

no embarrassment, no shame - he said it like a well known fact. it should have unsettled you, and yet, you felt a shaking exhale leave you.

“how long?” you dared to whisper, causing him to push you harsher against the bar, your bodies so intimately pressed against one another. “all night.” he whispered, head dropping down to meet the shell of your ear.

the hands at either side of you now came forwards, fingers grabbing at your waist, pushing you that last cm into him, meaning your own hands came up press against his chest, all whilst his head sat almost touching your own, eyes unable to look away from one another.

he was touching you. intimately.

before either of you could speak again, jungkook broke eye contact, looking behind you as the bartender finally decided to appear. one look at jungkook and he was gulping, recognising him as the owner’s best friend, immediately giving you both the highest of attention.

“what do you want, pretty girl?”

pretty girl?

in that voice?

you forgot every fucking drink in existence.

“i..” your mouth open and fell, looking down at your hands on his chest, flexing your fingers gently, before your eyebrows furrowed. “that gone already?” he asked you in mild amusement.

you flushed hard.

“vodka soda, please.” you tumbled out, holding him delicately.

he ordered for both of you, swiping his card with ease, not even sparing you a second glance during payment. it was only when the bartender moved away to make the drinks that you realised he had stayed where he was exactly, with no intention of moving back, still pushing your body against him intimately. now that you were touching him back, his chest flexed under your hands.

the music swallowed everything but him.

a hand let go of one side of your waist, instead reaching up to cup your chin, fingers wrapping around your neck also, to tilt your head upwards. he was examining you still.

“missed this face.” he hissed quietly underneath his breath, causing you to flutter your eyelashes up at him, stomach swirling with butterflies. “look at me when i talk to you.”

your gaze met his once more, forced as his hand tightened around your neck, causing you to practically slump against him. you liked it, liked it a little too much - the feeling of almost feeling powerless at the hands of a man who had been on your mind the day you met him at parents evening.

your thighs pressed together.

“do you know,” he began, sounding thoughtful, so soft, “how many men have been looking at you tonight?”

your pulse jumped as his mouth dipped close to your ear, letting out a gentle little, “hm?”

“nearly dragged one outside for touching you.”

a cocktail mixture of heat, confusion arousal and fear jolted through your nervous system, as you found yourself letting out a shaky breath. “why?”

“because i’ve been trying so fucking hard to be good for you, y/n.” he hissed then, almost sounding in pain.

his words hit like a tidal wave, as you desperately tried to catch up, fingers now digging into his skin beneath his t-shirt hidden chest.

his thumb pressed into your jaw, forcing your face higher. “tried real hard, pretty girl.” his voice was low enough to not be carried by the music, an ode to you and you alone. “thought you were a good girl. thought you deserved a man to do this right.”

he leaned closer, just as your lips parted.

“tried to wait until half term ended, give you some space to think.” his eyes shut tight for just a second, as though reminiscing his once plan. “was gonna come to you with flowers like some fucking gentleman, take you out, walk you home. was gonna do all that sappy shit ‘cause you deserve it.”

the words sounded sinful in his mouth, but the imagery in your head was enough to have you whimpering openly. the thought of him, jungkook, so enamoured by you, more than what you thought. you were so sure this was one sided regards to the way you felt, and yet here he was, declaring it to you in front of others.

“but then i walk in here,” his eyes deliberately ran down your shaking body. “and find you wearing this.”

you gulped almost nervously. “do..you not like it?”

“more than just like it, baby. fucking love it.” he hissed, offended by your thought track. “problem is every other bastard in this place is looking at you too. drives me fucking insane.”

your eyes left his, trying to catch your breath, so overwhelmed by everything around you - the thump of the music, the flashing lights, the heat, the proximity. he watched you, examining you in detail, recognising every single emotion on your pretty little face.

his thumb dipped, touching your bottom lip, dragging it gently over until it pulled, his eyes trained solely on your mouth. “you’re in my head. can’t get you out.” he admitted quietly, for you to hear and you alone.

the sentiment was not lost on you, as something inside your stomach, soul and mind broke at the prospect. you had assumed he had a roster of girls, that he was using you almost as placeholder because of convenience - this..this wasn’t what you had expected.

knowing he felt the same way as you, equally as confused, equally as enamoured; it felt like confirmation that you weren’t going insane. the magnitude of your feelings, no matter how sudden, felt heavy in your body. to know he was feeling the same, despite his usually quiet and reserved self made you want to scream in joy.

“i can’t stop thinking about you either.” you whispered, so faint that he wouldn’t have heard you had his eyes not watched your lips part.

that alone, was the confirmation jungkook needed as he suddenly pulled away, giving you and your body space. the look on his face was devastating, as though you had said the one thing that could truly undo him, his hands shaking as they released you, running them both through his hair messily - he looked ruined and you had only said a single phrase.

you blinked up at him, dazed.

“jungkook..”

“don’t.” his voice came out rough.

he sounded strained, as though his entire resolve was now left hanging on a thread. his jaw ticked at you openly as he stared and stared and stared, looking away momentarily as though he was thinking, wanting nothing more than to be good to you, be the gentleman he knew you deserved. he needed to be.

and yet, he lost.

he looked back at you, face eerily calm as he took both of your hands and pulled once more, your body pulled against him. fingers intertwined as he brought the back of your own to his lips in a sudden sweet kiss. “come with me.”

your breath caught for the millionth time that interaction. “where?”

“somewhere i can think.” he let out a humourless little laugh, all disbelief.

any rational person would have asked more questions, clarified what was going on, why he seemed so undone by you and your tiny dress, but frankly, you didn’t care. you were utterly captivated by him, and having his attention like this felt addicting, like a class a drug created entirely for you.

so, instead, you nodded.

jungkook began to lead you, body close to yours, creating a path with ease. his hands never left yours, steadying you as you stumbled a little, making sure you were good as people watched you both, men ogling you and women ogling him. you managed to catch yejin’s gaze, who had a beaming smile on her face once she recognised who you were with, animatedly pointing at jungkook with a big thumbs up, making you flush even deeper than you had all night. thankfully, jungkook seemed to stay ignorant of it.

heat ran down your spine as he took you left, walking past security who nodded at him, opening up a pair of doors that seemed inaccessible to a large majority of the people here. your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you were led up a set of stairs, private, dimly lit, the music growing quieter with each passing step.

the club noise completely muffled to a dull noise, leaving your heartbeat as the loudest noise around you.

jungkook was ahead of you, broad shoulders filling the space in front in a way that made you want to moan. fuck, he was just so big all over, it was one of the most attractive things about him - he didn’t even need to try, just being around him made you safe.

halfway up the stairs, he suddenly stopped, your fingers still locked with his.

your front brushed his back as you walked into him slightly.

you watched as he turned to face you, the cool air of the staircase easing your body’s heated temperature whilst his state did nothing to sedate the growing fire in your stomach. you peered up, watching as he stepped down, pushing you against the railing gently, dipping his own head down so he could breathe in your scent like a mad man.

“you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

dark eyes, wrecked. he looked sinful, utterly dangerous for the space between your legs.

to his question, you merely bit your lip, nibbling on it. he watched, eyes tracing the action with a harsh sense of affection - his sweet teacher was still there, it seemed, simply hidden underneath smoky eyes and bare legs.

“gonna take you upstairs, y/n.” he whispered softly. “i’m gonna treat you exactly like i wanted from day one, like i should have. need to know you’re coming because you want me too.”

it was your turn to almost take offence, with your eyebrows pulling tight. your shaking hands became confident, resting on his chest, fingernails digging slightly into skin to mark your territory.

“want you. wanted you from day one too, jungkook.” you promised him, big eyes fluttering in a way that wanted him to take you then and there.

a beat of silence stretched between you.

you watched as he shut his eyes, exhaling lightly, before pulling forward and pressing his lips faintly to your jaw, grazing it as an almost promise to you - he wouldn’t let you regret your choice.

pulling away, he let out a breath, before taking a hold of your hand once more, also pressing a kiss to it as he led you up the rest of the way, this time with an assured sense of urgency.

he opened the door to the private room, and your eyes pulled back in both a mixture of awe and intrigue. you had never been in a place like this, adorned with such lavish furniture, a private bar, a lounging area where a few guys sat around, some of them talking to girls, all whilst jungkook began leading you to another door across the room. all eyes were on you, and you realised these were clearly his friends, from the way they all either smiled politely at you or smirked at jungkook openly.

as he pulled you into an additional room, you watched as he locked it behind you, to ensure a level of privacy, only for you to turn, your stomach dropping in pure anticipation.

a large bed.

the sight of it nearly had you moaning out as it confirmed every thought in your head, your legs growing weak, thighs desperately pushed together at the understanding of what was going to happen. it was all you had been able to think about for weeks.

the thought of him being just as desperate as you, bringing you here just to ruin you, despite having played the gentleman for the entirety of the time you’d known him - your ego bloomed at the thought of having a man like jungkook so down bad for you.

you could hear footsteps behind you, breath hitting your shoulder as his head dipped, breathing in your perfume once more. his body pressed against yours meanly, your back to his front, against him in ways where you could feel him intimately.

“sweet girl.” he hummed just as you looked over your shoulder, meeting his heavy gaze.

he had the faintest of smirks on his face as he read you like a book, a fucked out expression over you and he hadn’t even touched you properly - oh the fun he was about to have. his hands grabbed onto your waist, pushing you lightly as he led you forward, all the whilst planting pepper kisses to the back of your neck.

your small little dress began to ride up as you were plopped onto the bed, bouncing lightly as he stood, hovering over you, looking at the lace of your panties that was now visible, a dampened patch inbetween your legs that had his cock visibly straining against his jeans. his mouth salivated at the sight.

“the things i want to do to you, baby.” he sighed, as your face sat crotch level for him, your gaze fluttering over him in anticipation.

“then do it.” you whispered, almost taunting him, desperate to see him break in front of you.

for a moment, neither of you spoke, simply staring at one another, until he suddenly lunged for you.

you gasped as you scurried backwards on the bed, just as he hovered over you, pinning you down harshly on the plush covers, watching the way you sank in comfortably. he grabbed your arms, pinning them above your head, leaning down to press his head against yours.

he looked possessive by definition, lips curled in almost snarl as he breathed you in, your eyes fluttering closed at the feel of him already so intimately against you. one of his knees separated your legs, cold air hitting the wetness between your thighs, to which he grunted lightly at.

“my good girl. gonna let me ruin you forever, baby? no going back after this, you’ll be mine.”

to that, you nodded almost instantly, hips bucking upwards to get any sort of friction. “please..want it.”

how could he deny his girl?

his lips dropped against yours immediately, claiming harshly.

lips moved in unison as you immediately moaned into his mouth, causing him to groan as he felt you utterly melt. your hands, pinned against your head, were pliant against his own fingers as his lips claimed you, kissing you like a man starved, all whilst grinding down on you for friction.

you could feel how hard he was, how much bigger he was than you in this position and it made your brain malfunction, realising that he truly had every intention of breaking you tonight, just like you wanted.

soon enough, his tongue demanded entry into your mouth, to which you allowed, feeling him explore you in ways that had you whimpering at the thought of it between your legs. it was like he could read your mind, applying further pressure between your legs, the noises leaving you enough to render him dead on the spot.

once he pulled away to let you breathe, he watched as a thin string of saliva separated you, the sight enough to have most cumming in their pants. he couldn’t wait, couldn’t be rational, not when you were here, moaning for him, grinding, desperate to be touched by no one else other than him.

immediately, he sat up, watching as you propped yourself up on your elbows, lips slightly bruised.

he leaned over, grabbing your dress and pulling it up almost meanly, pushing it over your waist and to your stomach, causing you to crash back down on the bed, your hands shaking as they looked for something to grab.

“fuck.” he elongated, groaning loudly at the sight inbetween your legs.

pretty, lacy and tiny. your panties did nothing to hide how wet you were, as they sat completely soaked against you, desperate to be peeled off, hungry to be touched. he immediately positioned himself between your legs, grabbing either thigh before yanking you down to meet him, a squeal leaving your lips at his harsh actions.

“look at you, y/n.” he hissed, nose brushing against your clothed pussy immediately, breathing in the scent. “j-jungkook!” you squeaked, hands flying to his hair in almost embarrassment, as you watched him simply grunt against you like a pervert.

“a good man would be gentle with you..” he whispered underneath his breath, planting pepper kisses to anything he could get his hands on. “but i can’t do that baby. you understand, right?”

“don’t want you to be gentle.” you immediately shook your head in a whimper. “wanna feel you properly.”

that was all he needed. confirmation from his girl that she wanted it just as nasty as he wanted to give it to her - you really were a match made in heaven.

and so, he pushed your panties to a side, blowing against your pulsing clit for a second as he admired how fucking pretty your pussy looked like this, before utterly devouring you.

you let out a loud squeal, hands flying to his hair almost immediately as jungkook began eating you out like a man starved. your poor clit was being abused by his mouth as his sucked, licked, traced and bit, making you feel very inch of his emotions towards you.

you bucked your hips into him, desperate to get away from the overwhelming emotion, but he kept you pinned, grunting loudly at you each time you tried to pull apart. instead, you were resolved in pulling at his strands harshly, crying out his name despite knowing that everyone outside the room could probably hear you.

fuck, he knew you would taste good. one look at you and he knew you were candied all over, but this? how could he ever live without a taste of your pussy now that he was here? the way your thighs trembled violently, your core leaking, all whilst he played with you.

he relaxed one of your thighs with his hand before his fingers began prodding at your entrance, his eyes looking up to capture your own just as he inserted one, watching the way it scrunched up in a mixture of pleasure and shock.

“fuck, jungkook!”

the call of his name on your tongue as he gave you no time to adjust was euphoric, pumping his digit in and out, in and out, in and out as he suckled on your clit like a mad man. soon enough, he couldn’t help himself, inserting another whilst you whimpered about it being too much, only causing him to scoff against you.

“gotta be able to take my cock, pretty girl. need this pussy stretched out.”

you bucked your hips into him further at his words as he set a relentless pace, so deep, fingertips curling every chance he got. sure you had played with yourself, and had boyfriends touch you, but this was on another level. no man had ever made you moan so loudly, always having to fake orgasms and get off privately after but this? you realised there was no way you could let jungkook out of your life, not if your pussy craved this exact feeling forever.

“you’re so good to me. taste so good.” he groaned, all but making out with your pussy, your slick dripping from his chin. “don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do this.”

“wanted this too.” you whimpered back.

“yeah?” he scoffed, sucking, pumping. “i should’ve ate you out on your desk like i wanted. should have made you lock the door and kept your mouth full.”

“y-you can still..fuck..still do that.” you promised him, moaning uncontrollably at this point, scratching at his shoulders, at the sides of his face, anything you could get your hands on.

to that, he grunted, sucking particularly harshly on your clit. “yeah? you want me to do that, baby?”

you couldn’t respond. not when you were already close, already feeling something build in your stomach that you knew would ruin you for the rest of your life - three weeks and he had managed to outdo any man in your life thus far, and you paled to imagine the thought of not having him after this. not when his fingers pumped so meanly, tongue circling only to suck even meaner, causing your legs to shake uncontrollably around him.

“k-kook..m’gonna cum.” you managed to choke out, but it was like he couldn’t hear you, only going harsher, more eager, more desperate, his own hips grinding against the bed to feel some relief.

white, hot light soaked through you as your hips lifted off of the bed, a loud and choking squeal escaping just as your orgasm finally hit you. you could feel it run up and down your veins, coursing through you harder than any other time in your life, clenching around his fingers in a tight clamp. jungkook choked at the feeling, eyes shutting tight before opening up immediately to watch you orgasm for him, body shaking, whining and crying.

he continued to pump, not caring that you were a bundle of oversensitivity until you began slapping at his shoulders desperately to get him to stop. he listened, although reluctant, pulling away from the space between your legs with a small pant, your panties in his hands as he pushed them into his back pocket.

he was so much more perverted than you thought, and yet you liked it. yearned for it even, enjoying it beyond belief as you watched one another pant. you were dazed, eyes completely glossed over with a sense of need you had genuinely never felt before, watching as he pulled you up from your perched position.

you felt his hands on your dress, helping you remove it, unzipping and pulling it above your head, whilst you yanked at his own t-shirt, desperate to have him as bare as you. he couldn’t help the small smile at your actions, loving how needy you were now that you had cummed - god, you were so adorable.

soon enough, all that was left between you were his boxers, to which, you let out a pretty little sigh at the sight. he was big, too big for sure, but the print of him so harshly pressed against his boxers had you oozing between your legs once more, looking up at him almost shyly.

“dunno, kookie..i-i..don’t think you’ll fit.” you admitted honestly, the use of such a cute nickname doing something to him as he immediately hovered over you again, pressing kisses to your lips hungrily. “gotta make it fit, right baby? just need to take it.”

you nodded at him, so pliant in every way, his submissive doll. god, he felt like he was corrupting you, and yet he knew you were also leaving your mark on him too.

he wanted nothing more than to fuck your throat, but he knew he wouldn’t last, and so, he pulled down his boxers quickly, pumping his cock with one hand, pushing your hair away with the other. he asked you to lift your legs for him, to which you did sweetly, revealing your messy pussy once more, a slow breath escaping him.

he ran the tip of his cock up and down your core, collecting slick, just to see your expression. you were propped up on your elbows, watching him with an open mouth, a blissed out expression appearing everytime he nudged your sensitive clit, loving the feel of something so much larger than his fingers ruin you already.

“big breath.” he whispered down at you, as he began to push inside, watching the way your elbows gave out, your head falling plush to the pillows.

you grabbed onto his arms, letting out a loud, broken moan as the tip of his cock stretched you out wide, pushing deeper and deeper inside of you until you could genuinely feel him in your stomach. he wasn’t deterred by your nails digging into him, causing his skin to break, only further thrusting inside of you until he was fully inside, eyes never leaving yours.

watching the way you struggled to keep your eyes open, whimpering, shaking, yanking him down to you whilst also pulling at his hair, grabbing at his skin. god, he was going insane. he couldn’t breathe, not with you gripping him so tightly, not when he was completely inside you and still wanted to feel so much closer than what he already was.

“too big.” you whimpered out with a quivering lip, as he panted above you, pressing kisses to your face. your cheeks, your nose, your eyes, your lips - his angel girl. “doing so good for me baby, fuck. look at you.”

he took one of your hands, kissing it before pressing it against your own stomach so you could feel the slight bulge, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

the mixture of pain and pleasure was utterly addicting, as though this was the one thing you had needed, craved even, without realising. how were you ever supposed to live without it now that you’d had a taste?

a whine was pulled from you as he suddenly pulled back, and gave you a thrust, skin slapping against skin almost immediately. he did it again, and again, and again, and again, until you were finally moaning, squealing each time he pushed back down on your stomach so you could feel him even deeper.

soon enough, he was setting a pace, thrusting j in and out of you, the sounds of your moans and his grunts filling the space, echoing out to the rest of the vip section.

you were usually a reserved person but even you couldn’t bring yourself to care, feeling utterly gone in the hands of a man you barely knew. this wasn’t like you, it was uncharacteristic - even your past boyfriends and flings were soft with you, equally as quiet and hesitant. jungkook went against everything you had ever known with his rough thrusts and harsh kisses, even the way he declared his interest for you felt too loaded to be deemed normal.

“so good to me.” he grunted into your ear as he began to set a faster pace, your moans echoing against the four walls, your eyes shutting tight. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” you whined out, legs widening for more.

the sound emitting from you both were downright sinful, as the tension of the past few weeks finally exploded between you both, jungkook fucking you like a man with a mission. his head rested against your own, hips ploughing into yours, cock all but bullying your poor pussy into submission as your lip continued to quiver, it all beginning to feel like too much and not enough.

“you’re so perfect.” he hissed. “you’re driving me insane. i can’t fucking think anymore, can’t..fuck, lift your hips..can’t do my job, can’t eat, can’t sleep. just you, all of the time.”

he sounded angry, as though you were genuinely plaguing him when all you had done was simply exist, doing nothing more than orbiting his life. it was enough to drive a man like him to ruins, as he realised very quickly that he had no intention of operating his life without you as his.

his words were ruining you too, as tears began to climb to the surface, only to flood and escape just as quickly as they formed. you were so overwhelmed by him, in the greatest of ways, and his delectations for you - you had never been desired so greatly, so openly, without any care of what it seemed like. it was obsessive, darkly so, and any other woman would have been smart enough to push him away. unfortunately for you, you simply spread your legs, begging him to go deeper.

“that’s it, baby. cry for me.” he cooed, genuinely enamoured by how sweet you were underneath him.

you raised your arms, wrapping them around his neck as he cupped your body, pulling you up so that he was practically fucking you off of the bed. you wanted to get closer. wanted to feel closer, even though it wasn’t even possible.

“feels so good.” you whined at him through hiccups, to which he nodded down at you, chest inflating, knowing he was bringing you pleasure. “yeah? like it when i fuck you open, my sweet girl?”

“wan’it all the time.” a sob almost tore out of your throat at the thought, the possibility even.

guys like him and girls like you, they didn’t make sense. you were too soft, too gentle, too understanding. he was rough all over, uncaring half the time with his words, mean by nature. lord knew that one taste of you had confirmed he would spend a lifetime changing that if it meant he could keep you for a second longer, especially with the way you were looking up at him with the sweetest of faces. how could he not be enamoured?

he let out a shaking breath, gripping you. this wasn’t normal, he knew that, fuck he was so aware it killed him - not even a month of knowing you and he couldn’t fathom not having this, not when you were everything he had ever secretly wanted. he knew you were the same too, with the way you were babbling, gripping onto him, your high approaching already but he didn’t want you cumming just yet, not when he had just started.

and so, he slowed his thrusts until he finally came to a halt, a loud, desperate whine echoing from the walls as you hit his chest. “why?”

instead, he grinded into you, making you feel every inch, every vein on his too big cock, just to see you squirm, just to see you shake.

“you’re mine, y/n. my girl now, you hear me?” he whispered down at you, face void of any emotion other pure, fucking devotion.

your quiet sobs only began to grow louder as you nodded earnestly up at him, fingers shaking once they finally locked into his hair once more, grabbing, pulling. “your girl.”

“my girl.” he repeated, panting as he began pick up his pace again. “fuck, the things i want to do to you.”

he smacked your ass harshly, the sound echoing around the room, hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over until all you could feel were the shooting sparks trailing over your aching figure, your limbs curling around him desperately.

“do them. i want them all.” you begged him, hips lifting. “wanna feel you all the time, kookie.”

“yeah? kookie’ll do anything for you, baby. anything you ask for, i don’t give a fuck, it’ll be yours, you understand?” he was panting, voice harsh, almost mean. “this tight pussy was made for me.”

you let out the cutest “mhm” to confirm, knowing that his words were factual. his words rolled in your head, knowing you belonged to him both mind and body was beyond euphoria, but to know he truly meant it - fuck. it was insanity. this was genuine, unadulterated insanity.

soon enough, your positions had changed, as he bullied his cock back into you as you sat on top, your load moans heard by anyone close by. the feeling was unlike anything you had ever felt before, and though you had been stretched, jungkook choked at the feeling of how tightly you were clamping him.

he watched as you rode him, letting you take it at your own pace, your tits bouncing with every thrust. his bunny. you were too cute in this position, and as he sat up, his back against the headboard, he couldn’t fathom how sweet you looked trying to pleasure both yourself and him.

it wasn’t about the pace, it was about the effort. you put your all into everything, and despite him wanting to break you, it was this that had him coming undone in his mind. his girl, bouncing on a cock that barely fit earlier, ignoring the pain, completely overcome by the unbearable pleasure, rubbing her own clit.

“just like that.” he grunted, chest rising and falling as he watched you eagerly, his hands teasing your nipples. “such a good girl. just wanna feel good, don’t you? bouncing on my cock like a fucking slut.”

you clamped down hard on him at the name, liking it way more than you ever thought you would. “n-not..a slut.”

“yeah you fucking are. my slut, creaming on my cock like a whore.” he hissed, one hand coming up to grab and tighten around your throat, as he began to take charge, thrusting up and into you.

your eyes began to haze over, completely gone at the feel of him snapping into you.

“want you like this always. no thoughts in that pretty head, just taking it.”

your sobs only grew louder as his hand tightened on your neck, the lack of oxygen heightening your emotions. when he released you momentarily, you gulped in a large breath as his thrusts only hit harder, your ass bouncing against him with lewd noises echoing around the room.

you could feel it coming, your high rising in the pits of your stomach as you collapsed into his arms, falling forward to which he caught you almost immediately, not halting his movements even once. he cupped your face to his, cooing at you gently, pressing sweet kisses to your lips as though you were the prettiest thing he had ever fucking seen.

“gonna’cum.” you slurred, completely fucked out and cock drunk at this point as he completely wrapped his arms around you to trap him to his chest.

“fuck, me too baby. where do you want it?” he hissed, body marked from all of the scratches you had been leaving on him, sore cuts having formed.

you hiccuped as you met his gaze, lips glazing his. “inside. want you to cum here.”

your hand took a hold of his as you lead it to your pussy, where you were joined, the ploughing of his cock doing nothing to ease the restlessness of your mind. his breath caught at your words, wanting nothing more and yet never ever in a million years assuming you’d like the same. you weren’t even using protection, just fucking raw like rabid animals and hoping for the best.

what would be the worst case scenario? the thought of you pregnant had him seizing up, his balls full and ready to unload at the prospect of you carrying his child. he didn’t really give a fuck if it was too soon, or if you barely knew one another - he knew what he wanted. known it for years, and now that you were in front of him, begging for him to cum inside? he’d give you everything you wanted.

“yeah? want kookie to get you nice and round? get you pregnant?”

you hated the effect of his words as you nodded eagerly, matching his thrusts as a means to get exactly that.

his jaw became slack at the enthusiasm on your face, grunting loudly as he felt you clamp on his cock one last time, letting out a too loud squeal as you finally came.

hot, flashing white obscured your vision as you closed your eyes, electricity running up and down your veins, a final, devastating whimper escaping your bruised lips. your legs shook around him, your pussy clenching harshly to the point he choked, gripping you tightly, feeling his own orgasm wash over him.

you both fucked back into each other to ride out your highs desperately, with a mixture of lips clashing, moans shared between embrace, skin still slapping against skin. only when you wined out of overstimulation did he finally stop, chest heaving, arms still caging you.

the minutes after blurred into the quiet buzz, and music that could faintly be heard from downstairs. your eyes closed as you let him manoeuvre you, soft kisses being planted on every inch of you, sweet nothings whispered into the confinements of your ear as though they belonged to you, and you alone. your heart inflated at the way he brushed your hair out of your face, keeping you full with his cock with no intention of pulling out.

“did so good for me, baby.”

you almost shyly hid your face in his neck, slightly embarrassed by how intimate the situation now was with the absence of sexual tension. he wasn’t deterred, instead smiling down at the way your cheeks heated up at his attention, a quiet huff of amusement leaving him.

“i meant it by the way.” he hummed, positioning you so you were more comfortable, all whilst his cum leaked on either side of his cock, still stuffed inside of you. “you’re my girl, yeah?”

it was your turn to smile up at him, not bothering to respond but instead, press a soft kiss to his lips in confirmation.

all his.

—

end of term performances were the bane of your living existence. the children were stressed, the teachers were stressed, everything required a level of attention and meticulous care to the very last second all in hopes of pleasing parents. it felt excessive at times, but seeing your students up on stage, so adorably singing their hearts out just as they’d rehearsed did something to your brain that you utterly adored. it was all worth it in the end.

you stood, just behind the parents, in a corner of the room, watching the performance in front of you with a soft smile, holding up a thumbs up whenever one of your children looked at you for support. they were all performing beautifully, and judging from the fact there seemed to be not a dry eye in the sea of parents, you were pretty proud of yourself.

your stomach, however, was filled with butterflies at the sight of jungkook sat, alongside arin’s parents, only a few rows in front of you. you’d recognise your boyfriends shoulders anywhere, with his towering height and bigger build - even calling him that made you want to giggle into your own hands like a school girl.

the days following the club felt like a fever dream. he had cleaned you up, taken you home and stayed with you all night, leaving only reluctantly due to work commitments. he texted you as much as you needed, knowing you were an overthinker, always checking in on you, facetiming you more times than you could even count.

it had only been two months since that night but things were rapidly progressing between you. it was pretty clear to both of you that this wasn’t a normal relationship, and that the feelings you both shared for one another were intense to say the least. you felt insane half of the time, almost too scared to tell him the depth of your feelings for him, and yet jungkook had no qualms about it whatsoever.

whether you were in his arms, or over a call, or even stuffed full of his cock - he took every opportunity he got to tell you how deeply he wanted you - no, needed. you often came into the tattoo shop after your own shifts just to spend time with him, where he’d feed you, hold you, breathe in your scent.

you had met all of his friends, and his family, including arin’s parents who were quite literally over the moon over jungkook’s choice of partner. everyone who would meet you couldn’t believe he had managed to get someone so different, and despite being a ladies man, you were the definition of a keeper.

little arin had practically exploded at the confirmation you would be in her life in a more intimate way, constantly asking if you could come over to her house to play now that you were uncle kook’s girlfriend.

it all felt like a massive whirlwind of events, some that felt too fantastical to really be a reality. yejin teased you with every passing moment, until you had set her up with one of jungkook’s friends, jin, who owned the club. that resulted in her coming into work rather disheveled, clearly having showered and dressed in a hurry as she took you into your empty classroom to unload all of the dirty experiences.

it seemed that you were happy in every facet of your life, in ways you genuinely didn’t think were possible. even stood here as you admired the back of his head, you could feel your cheeks heating up, harbouring a soft smile you hid behind one of your hands.

soon enough, the performance was over, the children collected by their parents, all singing one another’s praises whilst you made your way to your classroom, humming underneath your breath. it was late and you just wanted to finish off a few bits and bobs before making your way back home.

you bent over a pile of finger paintings, hair pulled up into a messy bun to get it out of your face, your lip bitten. you just needed to pin a few up before you left, humming quietly as you gathered everything you needed, climbing up your step stool.

you leaned upwards, wobbling slightly as you almost lost your footing, a small squeak leaving your lips. before you could move an inch, two hardened hands grabbed you by your waist, positioning you back properly.

looking down, you met the gaze of your boyfriend, who was looking up at you in amusement.

“oh! i thought you left.” you blushed pink, embarrassed at being so clumsy in front of him.

“wanted a kiss.” he simply responded, before picking you up with ease, putting you back on the ground to actually face him.

the giggle you let out was one he was growing to love more and more with each passing day as you leaned upwards, pressing a small peck to his lips. he grunted, causing you to leave a few more, not wanting to have a full blown make out session at your workplace despite doing it so often at his. perks of being the boss.

“where do you want this?” he asked, taking the paintings out of your hands, barely stretching his hands up for the same space you had to climb just to reach.

fuck. you hated how attractive that was.

“thank you.” you pressed another kiss to his back once you had informed him, shuffling away to clean the rest of your station.

“you were good with them today. couldn’t stop watching you, think arin probably noticed.” he laughed a little underneath his breath once he had finished up, walking over to you. he slung his arms around your waist, pulling you in so your back sat flushed against his front. “didn’t think it’d make my brain go crazy.”

“what’d you mean?” you hummed, fingers tracing his fingers.

“is it too soon to get you pregnant?” he asked openly, causing you to gasp out loud, slapping his arm in protest at such crude language.

“kookie!”

he couldn’t help the smirk as he watched you flush bright red, the giggles that left you a clear indication of how you really felt.

“what? can you blame me?”

“you can’t talk like that.” you murmured through a shy smile, despite his kisses coming to attack you on your neck, jaw and cheek.

he leaned, forehead against yours, the moment oddly intimate. more intimate than anything else you’d ever really known, and yet that seemed to be a norm with him. he planted kisses to your face, anywhere he could access, as though nothing was enough and yet he wanted more and more and more and more.

“okay, help me just organise these drawings and then we can go home.” you teased, to which he nodded immediately, a man made pliant by the woman in his life.

you handed him a portion, whilst you did the rest, organising them in alphabetical order so it was easy to access tomorrow when you handed them back out to parents. you continued your smooth hum from earlier as you both worked respectively, the quiet between you welcomed and comfortable.

as you completed yours, you noticed jungkook, furrow in his brow as he stared at one openly in his hands. he was examining it in great detail, causing a pearl of curiosity to burn in your mind.

“what’ve you got there?”

he didn’t answer, as you walked over for yourself, cheekily sliding under his arm so you could view it within the confinements of his warmth. his expression shifted as one of his hands immediately took a hold of you, a too large hand gripping your stomach possessively. you loved how it felt.

a crayon drawing.

arin’s.

5 stick figures. a cute puppy in the corner, sun in the sky, grass on the ground.

your chest tightened as you recognised what you were seeing immediately.

arin, holding both of her parent’s hand’s, a big love heart above all of their heads as she depicted her happy little family. beside them, two others, holding hands, one labelled “uncle kook” and the other “auntie y/n”.

it looked incredibly similar to the one she had made three months ago, in that parents evening hall, where she had already depicted her two favourite people outside of her parents together, happy. a prophecy, it felt like.

the difference in this depiction, however was the big, fat diamond on your finger, and the veil on your head.

whilst you were busy gasping, eyes wide, finally looking at what she had depicted, you didn’t notice jungkook staring down at you, gauging your reaction whilst only pushing you back deeper into him, the incessant monster in his brain telling him to make it a reality and to do it quickly.

his wife. fuck. what a dream.

he’d make that happen. soon.

—

IM BACK!

guys, this was originally supposed to be 1k words but unfortunately, i cant shut the fuck up to save my life omg

i hope you guys enjoyed, i just love this pairing so much, aren’t they the cutest ever 😢 i have a few ideas pending for potential drabbles in the future if you guys are interested

thank you guys so much for reading, and thank you for your continued patience - if you want to show some love, my kofi is here, there’s no obligation whatsoever!!

you're currently sitting in one of the most grand and luxurious ballrooms in the city. tonight is supposed to be something neutral - a friendly ceremony. one of those where every major family in the underworld pretended civility for a few hours before going back to fortresses to plan their next betrayals.

the jeon family is occupying the left side of tables, whereas your family is occupying the right - as far away from each other as possible. your father is standing near the bar, looking every bit the rich, powerful and dangerous mafia, he is, while glaring at his rival - the head of the jeon family, jungkook's father. who, in return, stares back at him with the same cold, hateful look.

they hate each other so much. if there's a feeling stronger than that, then that is exactly what they feel for each other.

your eyes continue to roam around the room until they find jungkook. he's leaning against a pillar near his family's side, looking so fuckable in that tailored suit he's wearing, with the first few buttons left open, giving you a glimpse of his chest and the ink on his shoulder. his hair is a bit longer than the last time you ran your fingers through it, which you're thankful for because it looks even better than it usually does. 

he looks bored until his eyes find yours. you hate how your heart stutters at the eye contact. it's been three weeks since he last had you pinned against his office desk, three weeks since he had you whimpering beneath him, three weeks since he fucked the living daylights out of you.

you tear your gaze away first, accepting champagne from one of the servers who happens to be too scared to even meet your eyes. every few minutes you would catch him staring holes into you, eyeing you. you knew that he'd be here drinking you in and that's exactly why you've decided to wear an elegant gown that's just a little revealing - cut low at the back with a slit running up your thigh. easy access.

after a few minutes of sitting, you decide it's time to slip away for a little while. you excuse yourself and no one questions it. heirs disappear all the time, whether it's to powder their noses, make discreet calls or converse with family allies, so it's a normal thing to do without getting suspicions.

you walk through the crowd until you reach the long corridor that leads to the private restrooms, inside the women's restroom is pristine and polished. there's a massive mirror stretched across the wall above the vanity. you set your bag down and study your reflection. you look perfect, but still, you tuck a small strand of hair behind your ear and adjust your hair - not because you need to, but because you know that he'll be here soon.

and right on cue, the door opens slowly, closes once he's inside and locks. instead of turning to face him, you watch him in the mirror. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed and head tilted, watching you watch yourself.

"still primping?" his voice is rough and a little mocking. "thought you'd at least pretend that you weren't waiting for me."

you roll your eyes at him. "thought you'd at least pretend that you aren't desperate enough to follow me into the bathroom like some horny teenager."

he huffs out a laugh. "three weeks is a long time, princess."

"don't call me that."

"why not?" he pushes off the wall and approaches you slowly. "you know you love it when i call you that."

"i love a lot of things you do with your mouth. talking isn't one of them."

he stops directly behind you, his hands settling on the vanity on either side of you, caging you in without touching you. his scent fills your lungs, something that isn't too strong, but still expensive, that signature smell of his that's grown to give you some kind of comfort you're unable to explain.

"look at you," he murmurs. "all dressed up, standing there and trying to convince yourself you hate me."

"i do hate you."

"yeah?" his lips brush your earlobe. "then why're you shaking? nervous?"

you scoff before speaking. "because i'm imagining all the ways i can kill you."

he chuckles against your skin. "liar."

your breath hitches when you feel one of his hands sliding up one of your thighs, under the slit of your dress, until he finds your core and cups it over your underwear. his palm rests there, making you suck in a breath.

"i missed you," he says quietly,

your eyes snap to his in the mirror. he doesn't have that cocky look on his face. his eyes roam your body with that hunger that makes you feel weak.

"three weeks," he repeats. "way too fucking long."

his lips find the side of your neck.

"don't." you warn.

"don't what?" he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. "don't tell you the truth? or don't do this?"

"both." you breathe out.

"too late," 

his other hand goes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging it back so your head is leaning on his shoulder. in the mirror you watch your reflection, noticing how your lips part and eyes darken.

"look at us," he rasps against your throat. "look how fucking perfect you look with my hands on you."

you try to glare at him, but unfortunately your eyes look more pleading than anything.

"shut up, jeon."

"why don't you make me?"

you gasp in his mouth when he suddenly kisses you roughly and passionately, showing you just how much he's been needing this the past few weeks. you arch back into him without thinking, your ass pressing against his cock through his slacks, making him groan into your mouth.

your hands thread through his hair, angling his head where you want him so you can lick deep into his mouth. he groans again, and rewards you by cupping your core harder, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit causing your hips to buck forward.

"fuck," you gasp into his mouth.

he swallows the sound and kisses you harder while his fingers slip into your underwear. two of them caress your folds, gathering your wetness before circling your clit the way you like. he starts off slow at first then picks up the pace, going faster. you can't help the needy moan that slips out of you and the way your pussy clenches around him.

he breaks the kiss to murmur against your lips. "so wet already. been dreaming about this pussy for three weeks straight.

"oh, shut up," you hiss.

he pushes two fingers inside you until they're knuckles deep. your eyes flutter closed as you let out soft moans of pleasure that become more audible when he starts pumping his fingers inside you deeper. you meet the thrusts of his fingers shamelessly.

"how nice that you're clenching around my fingers in a bathroom while our families are a couple feet away plotting each other's deaths."

again, you try to glare at him but miserably fail when he curls his fingers inside you.

"jeon-"

he pulls his fingers out of you and your eyes open widely at the loss. you whip your head around to glare at him properly now. he just smirks down at you, looking all cocky again. that sight makes you want to slap him and ride him at the same time. 

without breaking eye contact with you, he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks your arousal off his fingers. his tongue swirling around each of them slowly. you stare at him. he's so filthy and you love it.

"asshole," you say.

he ignores your rude comment and spins you back around so fast your hands slap down onto the vanity to steady yourself. you're facing the mirror fully now with him behind you. his eyes locked on yours in the reflection again. he doesn't say anything, he reaches down and unbuckles his belt, opens the buttons of his slacks then pulls down the zipper.

you watch every single thing he does in the mirror. watching as he pulls his pants and boxers down halfway. watching as his hard length springs free. your mouth goes dry (even as you mentally salivate at the sight). he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a few strokes, from the base up to the tip, spreading his precum with his thumb. he reaches down between your legs again, collects more of your arousal and uses it as lubrication on himself as he keeps stroking his cock. you clench around nothing just watching until he stops touching himself.

with one hand he reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up over your hips, bunching it at your hips. the other hand he uses to pull your underwear down, so it pools at your ankles. the cool air hitting your soaked core and the anticipation make you tremble a little. jungkook groans at the sight of you like this -trembling, your ass bare and pussy glistening.

"so fucking pretty." he mutters mostly to himself.

after admiring you for a few more seconds his fingers are on you again rubbing your clit until you twitch and chase the pressure for a short while before he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth again, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction.

"you're disgusting." you whisper.

he leans over so his chest presses against your back and talks near your ear.

"don't act like you don't love it."

you want to say something to argue, but he's right. very much right.

he lines himself at your entrance, sliding his tip inside and pulling out, teasing you (and himself)

"jungkook–"

"tell me you want me." he says.

you bite your lip when he sinks in a little deeper, stretching you open.

"say it, princess."

"fuck you." you hiss.

he lets out a little disbelieved scoff. but pushes in slowly, filling you with his large length until he's all the way in, buried to the brim with his hips flush against your ass. you both freeze, eyes locked in the mirror. both of you looking wrecked. jungkook flexes inside of you causing you to whimper. he stays there buried inside you, not moving, just giving you a stern look.

you put your pride aside and whisper, "i want you, jungkook."

"good girl." he murmurs.

he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. again and again. his thrusting in and out of you drives you insane. your palms slide against the vanity, fingers curling, wishing you could grip on something instead.

"faster," you demand with a sweet gasp.

he leans down, speaking near your ear. "beg for me."

you lift your head to glare at his reflection. "fuck. you."

he grins, knowing his luck wasn't going to work. he gives you what you want. he increases his pace, fucking you with a rhythm that has you seeing stars. the entire time you try your best not to look away from him. you want to watch him fuck and mark you.

his free hand slides up your back pushing it down so you're arching beautifully, giving him a better and deeper angle. your moans and his groans grow louder as the pleasure builds for both of you.

"you feel too good," he pants. "so tight and wet. you've really been waiting for me, hmm?"

"i wasn't." you lie as your walls flutter around him.

"liar." he growls and punctuates it with a hard thrust.

you cry out from pleasure and a little bit of pain. one of his hands slide down to find your clit, rubbing it circles that match his brutal thrusts.

"jungkook- fuck. don't stop."

"i won't," he says through gritted teeth. "not until you're coming all over my cock."

you whimper and clench hard around him. the sensation causes him to groan loudly.

"f-fuck," he grunts.

you do it again. your walls clamp down on him hard making his thrusts stutter. his hips slam forward one last time, buried in completely before he halts his movements.

"stop," he grits out. "stop clenching me like that, you're gonna make me come too fast."

you let out a breathless, mocking laugh before speaking. "poor baby. can't handle it?"

after registering your words, his hand comes down to deliver a sharp smack to your ass. the sting is delicious and causes you to involuntarily flutter around him again.

"brat," he hisses. "if you want me to fuck you properly then behave."

you force yourself to relax, trying to loosen your muscles even though your body is screaming to pull him deeper, to keep him there inside you where he belongs.

the second you unclench around him, he rewards you but pulling all the way out and slamming back in with a force that has your eyes rolling back.

he sets a perfect pace that makes it impossible for you to stay quiet as much as you can try. sweet loud moans and profanities leave your mouth that is definitely audible to anyone outside; "jungkook– oh God–yes right there! – fuck–"

he curses under his breath before placing his palm over your mouth, muffling your loud, inappropriate sounds before you attract any attention.

"shh. you wanna get us caught? want your father kicking down the door while i'm balls deep in his little princess?"

the image of that terrifies you. it would be an abomination if something like that ever happened. your father has been very vocal about his pure hatred for the jeons, including the one currently giving you one of the best fucks of your life. but still jungkook always feel too good for you to control yourself, so unfortunately you cannot help the whiny, muffled moan that slips out of you.

"fuck's sake."

he slides two fingers past your lips, pushing them deep in your mouth until they hit the back of your tongue.

"suck." he orders. "keep that pretty mouth busy."

you obey without hesitation. wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue the same way you'd done to his cock more times that you could count. thinking of the blowjobs you've given him makes you hum around his fingers, eager to feel him in your mouth again.

"that's it." he rasps. "prettiest sounds i've ever heard."

you whimper around his fingers. his thrusts get harder and deeper, making your toes curl. 

after a few minutes, your pussy starts fluttering around him causing his breath to hitch.

"there it is," he groans and picks up the pace even more. "love when you do that. when your greedy little cunt starts begging for it."

you try to speak, try to beg, but his fingers are still deep in your mouth so all that comes is a desperate, garbled whine.

"come with me. let me feel you." he orders.

after the last thrust, you release with a muffled sob of his name. your pussy spasms and milks him so hard he swears violently under his breath. he follows you right after, burying himself as deep as possible and releases inside you until you feel it leaking out around him, dripping down your thighs. his hand goes up to cup your jaw gently, tilting your face so he can leave a soft kiss on your temple before carefully pulling out. you whimper at the loss, he watches himself leaving you as your combined release drips.

"fuck, that's so hot."

you shake your head despite the heat warming up your cheeks at his words. "we have to get cleaned up, jeon. we've got something to get back to."

he reaches for one of the thick towels from the stack on the counter and wets it under the tap. he kneels behind you. the sight of jeon jungkook on his knees in a tailored suit is definitely something out of your wettest dreams.

he cleans you up, wiping between your thighs. he's so gentle it  surprises you, because some seconds ago he was fucking you like he hated you. once most of the evidence is gone, he looks up at you and leaves the softest kiss to the back of your thigh before standing up again.

"don't get used the princess treatment, yeah?" he murmurs, tossing the towel in the bin. "next time i'm leaving you dripping down your legs."

you roll your eyes at him for the one millionth time. "next time you'll be lucky if i let you touch me at all."

"sure."

he turns his attention to your messy appearance. your dress is a bit creased and still bunched up at your waist. your hair looks - well it looks like you've been thoroughly fucked, which of course you were. your lipstick is smudged and your mascara smeared under your eyes. he steps in close and starts fixing you. neatening your dress, adjusting your dress's straps with his fingertips mistakenly grazing over your breasts.

"careful." you warn.

he hums amused and then moves to your hair, combing it with his fingers and brushing a stray strand behind your ear in a way that seems way too tender for people who are supposed to be enemies.

"there," he says quietly, stepping back to survey his work. "you look almost respectable again."

you turn to face him now. he looks delicious. his hair falls into his eyes, lips swollen from your kisses, his collar wrinkled and he's a little sweaty. he looks like he deserves the best and sloppiest head in the world.

you reach up without thinking, straighten his collar and smooth his shirt. before you can pull away, he catches your wrist and holds it there, near his chest.

"why're you looking at me like that, hmm?" he asks, staring down at you.

"like what?"

"like you want me to take you again. i will if you want me to."

you yank your hand free from his hold. "in your dreams, jeon."

"yeah, almost every night." he shoots back with a smirk.

you ignore his statement, despite the wanted eruption of butterflies you feel in your stomach. jungkook checks his watch with a sigh.

"we've been gone too long already." he says.

"you go first. i'll wait for a while then come out."

he nods before leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. he gives you a little smirk then slips out the door. you give it at least two minutes before exiting the bathroom and slipping back into the hallway.

once you get back to your family's table you take your seat next to your mother, softly wincing at the dull, delicious ache between your legs. your mother turns to you immediately, her eyebrows knitting.

"what took you so long?" she asks while her eyes inspect you. "and your hair... it's a mess. are you alright?"

you force a smile. "i wasn't feeling well. must be the champagne and all the people. i needed a minute to breathe."

she studies you for another few seconds before her face softens. "poor thing. we won't stay much longer, i promise. your father's already been itching to leave anyway."

she reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "you sure you're okay?"

"fine, mom, really."

she squeezes your hair once then turns back to whatever conversation she was having before you came. across the room, you see jungkook at his table again. he's sitting with his legs spread and an arm draped over the back of another chair. he looks so hot, still so fuckable, you wish you had agreed to let him take you again.

a server places a dish in front of him. a large piece of steak with some vegetables on the side. he picks up his fork and knife and digs in as if he hadn't just fucked his sworn enemy senseless in a bathroom minutes ago. 

you've grown to learn that jungkook loves food, he loves eating. loves the way food feels on his tongue, loves the flavours, loves everything about it. but you've also grown to learn that if there's anything he loves to eat more than food - it's you.

you can't help but think about how he devours you like he's a starved man, instead of the rich, cocky bastard he usually is. the way he feasts on you, holding your thighs spread open until you're crying, shaking and begging him to stop but also to keep going.

your whole body heats up traitorously fast. damn jungkook and the stupid effect he has on you.

•───୨୧───•

a week passes by slowly, excruciatingly slow. all because it's been seven days of radio silence between you and jungkook. no messages, no random calls ending with you two having phone sex, no nothing. not that you really expected anything else, that was the deal. fuck and forget and hate each other. except this time you can't find yourself enjoying the last two very much.

you've spent most of the week locked in your own head, isolated in your fortress of an apartment. the one your father spent hundreds of thousands on. another one of the luxuries in your life that's starting to feel like a cage.

your parents love you, you know that, it's unquestionable. but love, in your family comes with terms and conditions. because your mother had complications getting pregnant again, you're an only child. the sole heir, the future of an empire that's built on money and dead bodies. you have a lot of expectations. one day the power will be yours, whether you want it or not.

and of course, you do not want it.

you want something better, something that actually makes you happy, something that's nothing like the obligations you're forced to have. 

you want to write, live in your head and put your wildest thoughts on a piece of paper. you want to express all the thoughts you've never gotten to word into a book - every fantasy you've lived, every fantasy you have yet to live. it's all you ever wanted since you were a little girl.

you've majored in literature at a university your father only tolerated because it was an ivy league and it looked good on paper.

even in your free time, writing feels like the only thing that allows you to be your true self. so when you can, you write. most of the stories you write about one specific person you despise. jungkook. he's such an interesting source of inspiration for you, especially in all of the erotic stories you write. well of course he would be. that man gives you the time of your life every time his dick is buried deep inside you.

But your dreams and ambitions don't really matter. Because at the end of the day, your parents want security, powerful alliances and legacy. And lately whenever you were alone with your parents they started dropping hints.

"Have you ever thought about settling down?" your mother would casually ask.

Your father would nod before adding on. "There are good guys out there. Sons of men we trust. Strong families. It would solidify things."

They didn't name anyone yet, but you knew many of their friends from over the years. They were all powerful, all of them safe for you. All of them so fucking boring you wanted to scream.

You didn't argue with them because you didn't think you had a right to. You have to please your parents no matter what. Even if it means putting your own happiness on the line.

So you spent the next week in your own isolated bubble - writing whatever came to mind, treating yourself to whatever you wanted, ignoring the ache between your legs that could go away if you had Jungkook.

By saturday morning you still weren't feeling too good. Which is why you've decided to text your best friend Megan for a little spa day - which of course, she immediately agreed to.

After the most relaxing day of facials, body scrubs, massages, manicures and pedicures - you and Megan are finally feeling surreal, chilling in a jacuzzi. After a while of silence, Megan turns her head to look at you.

"You've been rather quiet today. What's up?" she asks.

"I'm always quiet."

"Not like this." she nudges your foot under the warm water with her own. "Something's on your mind. I can see you're thinking too hard."

"I'm just tired." you lie.

"bullshit .

You crack one eye open, noticing that she's watching you. Who are you kidding? This is Megan, your best friend of over nineteen years. If something's wrong with you, she'd definitely know.

You let out a defeated sigh. "It's a lot." you admit. "The empire, the expectations

. And there's - the rest of it,"

"The rest of it being your extremely hot, extremely forbidden hate sex situationship with Jeon Jungkook.?"

You groan and give her an annoyed look. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting. I'm just stating facts." she gives you a small smirk. "You two still pretend you hate each other's guts while simultaneously trying to break each others's pelvis everytime there's a gala?"

You glare at her. "I do hate him."

"Mmh."

"I can't stand him."

"Sure."

"He's arrogant, stupid, fucking annoying-"

"That's funny, you say." Megan cuts in. "You light up like a Christmas tree the second his name comes up."

You open your mouth, close it then open it again. "I only need his dick." you force the words out, knowing that they might not be entirely true. "That's it. Hate fuck. No feelings. No complications."

"It's okay to want more than that, you know." she says softly.

"I don't want more. I just want to write. I want to be free. I want to be... happy,"

Megan reaches over and squeezes your shoulder. "It's okay, y/n. You're allowed to want all of that. You shouldn't be forced to do anything you don't want to."

You swallow a little lump forming in your throat. "They think marriage will fix everything and we'll have more power. They haven't said it yet but I can feel it coming."

"So what're you gonna do when they pick someone?" Megan asks softly.''

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to learn to live with it." you let out a bitter laugh.

She doesn't say anything, silence sits between the two of you for a minute before she bumps her shoulder with yours.

"Jungkook's not on that list, is he?"

You grin in disbelief. "Definitely not. My father would sooner shoot him than shake his hand."

"You're not gonna miss him afterwards?"

You don't answer her right away. Because if you had again, it would taste too bitter. Would you miss Jungkook? You're not just scared to admit the truth to Megan, you're afraid to admit the truth to yourself as well. The ugly truth that's been developing for the past few months.

"That doesn't matter."

Megan smiles sadly. "You're gonna be okay."

You lean in closer and lay your head on her shoulder, feeling relieved that you've finally gotten some things off your chest,

•───୨୧───•

Once you get into your apartment, you kick off your shoes by the door and take off your coat, dropping it somewhere. With a loud sigh, you head straight towards the bar cabinet and grab the most expensive wine you have and pour a generous glass.

As you sip on the wine, you think to yourself. You don't want to marry some stranger. Wake up next to someone you know absolutely nothing about. Be with a person whose touch would feel foreign to you. Someone who would be polite with you, instead of the possessiveness you're now used to.

But, at the same time, you don't want to disappoint your parents. Legacy means everything to them, so you're not going to let them down. Even if it means spending the rest of your life being a miserable trophy married to a business partner.

Just as most times when you're feeling stressed or uneasy, your mind wanders off to Jungkook. How addictive his touches are. How rough he can be, yet so gentle. How he fucks you so good, you can't think of anyone else but him.

You want him here right now. Want him to shove you against the nearest surface, wrap your legs around his waist and fuck every last coherent thought out your head. You want him here to make you forget all about the weight of the crowns you never asked for...

You set the wine glass down and pick up your phone, opening your messages with him. Most of the texts are filthy things - provocative, sexy pictures sent to each other. Coordinates for hookup spots. Before you can think yourself out of it, you're typing a message

You : you busy tonight?

The three dots appear almost immediately,

Jungkook : yeah. Got things to handle til late.

After reading his message you let out a highly frustrated groan and carelessly toss your phone onto the couch.

"Fucking asshole. Busy when I need something."

You gulp down a huge sip of wine before you end up cursing him out.

You love sex, love the intimacy of it, love the way it feels, love absolutely everything about it. You've always been a rather needy woman, always. And when things first happened with Jungkook, your needs had become even more unbearable.

The first time with him happened almost a year ago. You were both dealing with business when something went wrong for both of you. You both ended up hurt, cornered somewhere with nowhere to go - stuck with each other.

The details of what happened that night is a story for another time ;) But somehow, for some reason, Jeon Jungkook had ended up kissing you. For unknown reasons you had started kissing him back. You kissed each other as if you were fighting, tongues colliding together, teeth clashing,saliva dripping down your chins.

Soon enough clothes were getting pulled off, bodies were gettting marked up and you were moaning the name you despised the most as he gave you the best orgasms of your life.

Since then, the two of you had made it a thing. Instead of killing each other, you used each other - fucking where you could - in his car, in yours, in private jets, in warehouses, in hotels he'd book.

The sex you have with Jungkook was undoubtedly the best thing you could ever experience. He's perfect when it comes to giving you a good time. He loves when you ride his face, loves eating you out until you're oversensitive and screaming his name, loves fucking you good and edging you until you're crying, creampies he'd finger back inside you while whispering the filthiest things in your ear. There are so many things that you and him have tried and have yet to try, and the thought of that excites you every single time.

You're certain Jungkook loves this as much as you do, if not, he loves it even more than you do. He is pussy-whipped for you. You can tell by the way he moans when he sinks into you, the way he messages you at the oddest hours to tell you how horny he is thinking about you, the way he usually cancels everything if you send him something provocative, and so much more.

It's just a mutual hate-addiction thing between the two of you. You hate his guts. You tell yourself that every time you come around his cock. And anyways, he's just a cocky bastard who loves to get under your skin, especially when he teases you about your 'princess' status even when he's balls deep inside you.

You want to kill him sometimes, strangle him with your bare hands, shoot him - anything.

But there's another part of you that hated those thoughts (even though you'd probably wouldn't actually kill him). Sometimes you thought to yourself; What if you don't actually hate him? "What if you and him actually got to know each other? What if there could be something more between you two?

You push the thoughts away, drinking some more wine. Jungkook's a good fuck. The best fuck. You don't need more, neither do you want more. You just need him to relieve your stress and give you pleasure. But unfortunately, tonight he isn't coming.

You walk to your bedroom, lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling, trying not to think about how empty your bed feels since Jungkook isn't in it. You try not to imagine him on top of you, pinning you down, kissing while promising to fuck you exactly how you like it...

•───୨୧───•

The next few days go by quickly. You haven't done much, since there wasn't a lot for you to do - other than a few errands your parents asked you to handle, or random outings with Megan.

It's been a bit boring, but rather peaceful and relaxing, the only thing that had been worrying you was the fact that you had no messages from Jungkook. Not a single text asking to see you, not a single picture from him, not even a single voice note. Usually he'd reach out at least once or twice a week, sometimes more if the week had been boring. But now there's been nothing but silence.

Throughout these days you've tried to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, you don't even care. He's busy, he's an asshole, maybe he's got his dick up someone else. It's fine. Good for him. It doesn't bother you. You don't need him.

Except you do need him. And that's been abundantly clear every time you touched yourself and failed to bring to yourself even a quarter of the pleasure he brings to you.

By Thursday evening you were feeling rather miserable, and to make your matters worse, your phone buzzed with a message.

Mother : Sweetheart, we have another event this Saturday. Your father insists we all attend together. Dress appropriately.

You groan loudly. Yet another night of forced smiles, politics and fake performances. You're so tired of it, you almost tell your mother that you're in no mood to attend when you remember something. Jungkook will be there, of course he will. None of the Jeons ever miss prestigious events, they show up to these things as if it's the biggest blessing.

You're itching to see Jungkook. He hasn't said anything in longer than usual, so you're very curious about his whereabouts. On Saturday night you'll corner him somewhere quiet and kick him in his groin and demand he tell you why he's been ghosting you.

•───୨୧───•

It's finally Saturday night. You're standing in front of your mirror assessing how you look. You look beautiful, wearing a long, emerald-coloured dress with the neckline dipping enough to show some cleavage and a slit that shows your thigh every time you take a step. Your hair is let down and you've touched up with just a bit of make-up. You look perfect, but inside, you're far from it – you're feeling nervous.

Once you reach the venue with your parents, you enter and take your seats. As discreet as possible, you start scanning the crowd. The Jeon table is already occupied. Mr Jeon sitting beside his wife, along with some of their other family and advisors, but no Jungkook. Your heart drops. Jungkook is always here, he'd never miss such events.

You force your gaze away and accept a glass of champagne from a passing server. Your mother says something to you, but you barely register her words, since your mind is completely elsewhere. Where the fuck is he?

You keep your eyes forward as the elderly host welcomes all the guests. For the next couple of minutes you watch as people converse with one another. Watching as you sit alone, hoping that he'll just show up soon – not because you're eager* to see him or anything! But because he really deserves to get kicked in his balls. That's all.

After a while, the doors open again. You turn your attention to the late arrivals, and there Jungkook is. Painfully looking as handsome as ever in a black tuxedo with his hair a little messy, just as you like it. His movements cause multiple heads to turn to him and look at him with either respect, admiration or envy.

But he's not alone. A woman is clinging to his arm. She's beautiful and elegant-looking wearing a silky pink gown that hugs her curves. She leans into Jungkook as they walk, her head tilted on his shoulder, and he... he's smiling at her. Smiling at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the room.

The glass of champagne freezes halfway to your lips. They walk over to the Jeon family table together. When Jungkook's mother sees them, the warmest smile spreads across her face. She stands to greet the woman, lightly kissing both her cheeks. "So lovely to see you again, darling." she says clearly enough for everyone around them to hear. The girl smiles back sweetly and lets Jungkook guide her into the seat right beside him. 

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You force your gaze back to the stage to whatever the host is talking about. Your fingers tighten around your glass, you're certain it might break. A few minutes later, you glance back at Jungkook, he glances at you too, making brief eye contact before he looks away. He looks away as though so very recently, he did not fuck you so passionately, so needily.

Your blood turns to ice. Is this why he ghosted you? He found himself a real girlfriend? One who he can bring to fancy events. Someone who his mother clearly approves of. Someone who isn't a secret he has to hide. You want to walk over there, yell at him and beat the shit out of him, but how can you?

Despite all the anger you're currently feeling, buried deep beneath, something you don't want to acknowledge is that you may be hurt. But of course, you tell yourself that you don't care who else he fucks, who he dates because you hate him. And right now you hate him more than ever.

You don't look at him again, you keep your eyes anywhere but him. Though many times, you've gotten the feeling of him looking at you.

You look completely unbothered, but mentally you're cursing him. Piece of shit. How dare he?

The event isn't even halfway done when you watch movement in your peripheral vision. Jungkook and the girl are standing. He murmurs something to his mother before offering the woman his arm again, she takes it with a smile. He walks her toward the exit with his hand on her lower back as she continues clinging to him.

You endure the rest of the event with your parents, until it's time to go home.

•───୨୧───•

The days after the event were unbearable for you, and unfortunately for everyone around you as well. You were being rather bitchy to your assistants, your mother and anyone else really. Everyone has been getting the worst of your mood swings.

One of the days, you had printed a booklet filled with pictures of Jungkook's face so you could use them on dummies at your family's private shooting range to practise your headshots. And not so surprisingly, you had blown the heads off of all the dummies. At a sparring session, you had taped one of the pictures to the punching bag and beat it up, vividly imagining that it actually was Jungkook

A few nights after that, as if he was trying to get under your skin, he had the audacity to message you.

Jungkook : you up? Can I come over.

The audacity that this man has astounds you. You type messages swearing at him before deleting them, deciding to be mature and block him instead.

the following evening you sit at your desk and decide to pour your rage into pages. You describe your male as very similar to Jungkook (which you often do) and describe the female lead as similar to you. In your little story, the female lead becomes aggravated with the male and ends up trying to physically harm him.

Somehow, things end up becoming even more tense between them and they share the most heated kiss, until things elevate. You write the scene until it starts to read like something too close to reality. Something too close to what you and Jungkook would end up doing.

You slam your laptop shut, telling yourself that none of those stories you've written are about him. None of the stories you've written in there are anything about the experiences you've had with him. You'd never write about him. You love to write whereas you have nothing but hate for Jungkook. It would be too ironic.

୨୧

On Saturday evening, you're still feeling quite awful. You need something urgently, something to make you feel good. You reach in your freezer for some soju, just to help quiet the noise in your head. You're about to open the bottle when you hear a sound upstairs, the sound of your window opening followed by steps.

Your heart skips a beat. Nobody gets past your security, absolutely nobody.

Quietly you take one of the knives from your kitchen drawer. Your parents have made you train how to fight, you know how to use weapons, so you know exactly how to draw blood without killing.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom. The bedroom door is cracked open; you push it open with your shoulder whilst keeping your knife raised. A hooded figure is stepping in, a figure you recognise immediately despite the darkness. Once he's properly inside, he gently closes the window.

Without hesitation, you close the distance, hook your arm around his throat from behind and yank him backwards and hold the knife firmly to his throat.

"Don't move." you warn him.

He freezes before pulling his hood down.

"Hey hey, it's me." he says quickly with his hands up. "It's just me, princess. Put the knife down."

You stare at the side of his face, remembering how he brought another woman to the event, yet still has the guts to show up here as if you're just going to allow it. Your grip on the knife doesn't loosen, instead you press it harder against his skin.

Jungkook's breath hitches and his eyebrows knit together, his confusion turning more cautious.

"Baby... what are you doing? It's me." he whispers.

You lean in closer so your lips brush his ear.

"What the hell are you doing breaking into my house?" you ask. "You think you can just come here after ghosting me?"

Jungkook swallows. "I just came to see you. I've been calling and texting, you haven't picked up once. I thought something was wrong."

You huff out a bitter laugh. "Something wrong? Yeah. You. You're what's fucking wrong, Jeon."

He blinks once, confusion mixing with his fear. He's scared, not necessarily scared of the knife being pressed to his throat (he's been threatened with worse), he's scared of you, like this.

"You blocked me?" he asks.

"Yes, I did."

He exhales through his nose. "Then why the fuck are you acting like i ghosted you on purpose? I've been-"

"Shut up." You press the knife even harder, until a thin red line appears on his skin "You're stupid for coming here. I don't want to see you. I could kill you right now and nobody would know."

His adam's apple bobs. And then faster than you can process, he twists. His forearm knocks the knife out of your hand while the other grabs your wrist tightly, causing the knife to clatter on the floor. You don't even have time to gasp when he spins you and slams you back against the wall, pinning both your hands on top of your head, using one of his hands.

He uses his body to keep you in place, his chest pressing against yours, his hips flush against yours, his thigh slotting between yours. Your breath hitches when his free hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, a bit roughly.

"Gotcha." he teases

Your heart's racing so fast, you're almost sure he can feel it.

Fuck, you love this. You hate that you do. You love the way he manhandles you, so rough and possessive, all dominating. Your body reacts before your brain can catch up, your nipples harden and you feel that little flutter in your lower belly. But even despite your growing arousal, you're still so fucking angry.

He leans in slowly, his nose brushing the side of your neck. Earlier on you had the longest bath, shaved, used the sweetest smelling soap and applied your favourite moisturizer. You've done that for yourself, to feel good. You surely did not expect Jungkook to be here inhaling your smell as if you're a drug. He exhales shakily, letting out a soft groan.

"Fuck," he curses against your throat. "You smell so good."

His kisses on your neck start off soft, then they become open-mouthed, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You gasp when he starts biting you. He goes further up to suck just below your ear, hard enough to leave a mark.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asks roughly. "You're angry. Talk to me."

You keep quiet, not wanting to answer him. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

"Baby..."

"Don't call me that."

He exhales through his nose again, sounding a bit frustrated. He kisses your neck again while rolling his hips against you, grinding his hardness against you causing you let out an involuntary high moan.. Jungkook pulls back to look at you again.

"Tell me what I did."

You say nothing, he waits for your answer that is not coming anytime soon. You just stare up at him. He sighs before dropping his forehead to yours.

Soft and almost pleading, he asks; "What's wrong? Why are you being like this?"

Hearing him ask what's wrong, as if he's not the source of your anger further enrages you. You're not sure what comes over you, but you do what you've been meaning to do – you knee him square in the balls.

He groans and sucks in a sharp breath, followed by a few curses. He stumbles to the side, one of his hands going down to cup himself as the other hand braces on the wall. The pain he feels is strong, but it's not excruciating. It was your intention just to hurt him a little, not to break your favourite part of him.

After the pain seems to fade, he straightens with his jaw clenched. You don't wait to see how he recovers, instead you walk towards the bedroom door, eager to get away from him. If he values his life, he better get out the same way he came in.

You make it about three steps to the door when suddenly strong arms are being wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet. You squeal, shocked and furious.

"Jungkook! Put me the fuck down!"

He does not listen to you, instead he carries you over to your bed and drops you face down on it. Before you can get up to swing at him, he delivers a very hard smack to your ass. Involuntarily you let out a high pitched gasp, jerking forward a bit.

The delicious sting of his smack goes straight between your legs. Fuck. You hate how your body betrays every single time. You're a sucker for his hands on you, you've always been one. You love his touches - whether they're rough or gentle, punishing you or praising you. The second Jungkook touches you, your brain short circuits and you get rather excited*

He leans over you, so his chest is pressed against your back. One knee is between your thighs to keep you spread open. He delivers another smack to your ass, this time it's even harder. You fail to hold back the moan that makes its way from your throat, it's so needy that you want to punch yourself.

"There she is." he murmurs against your ear lowly. "My princess making those pretty sounds for me."

"Fuck off." you try to say, as petty as possible. Though, it just comes out breathless.

He chuckles at that, rubbing your ass cheek softly, soothing the skin through your thin, silky shorts. His hand goes down to caress you where your thigh meets your ass cheek. He bends to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss there then a lot more.

You squeeze your eyes shut. How the hell can he do this? How can he climb through your window, man handle you, spank you and kiss you so intimately after everything?

You hate him so much right, yet you've missed him too. You've spent nights alone, dreaming of him being here, doing exactly what he's doing now. But now he's here, aching to please you and all you want to do is dig his eyes out. Jungkook shifts a bit, pressing his hips forward so you can feel exactly how hard he is.

"Been thinking about this pretty pussy nonstop. You gonna make it better, baby? Or you gonna keep being a brat and making me beg?"

You bite your bottom lip, wanting to do both of those options. But you're still feeling petty so you keep quiet instead, not giving him any answer.

He lets out a long, frustrated exhale. "You're really gonna do this tonight."

Again, you don't answer.

"Do you want me gone?"

"Yes."

He stops for a few seconds, breathing in and out, his cock throbbing against your ass. Eventually, he sighs deeply and pushes off you. The sudden absence of his weight on you feels awful. You didn't think that he'd actually get off.

"Fine," he says softly. "If that's what you want."

He stands, adjusts himself and turns to your room window, walking toward it. Once you hear him opening it, panic claws its way up your throat. You roll over fast.

"Jungkook. Wait "

For a while, he stands there for a moment, with his back turned to you. Slowly, he turns back to face you, his eyes meeting yours, you notice that he looks a little hurt.

"I'm not gonna force you. If you want me gone, I'll go."

You stare up at him with your chest tight. You want him to stay, you need him to stay, and you hate the fact that you do.

"Don't go." you whisper.

Jungkook sighs, walking back over to you. You're looking up at him with the prettiest expression he's ever seen. Your eyes are a little glassy, your lips slightly parted. The look undoes him, makes him weak, so fucking weak. He's faced dangerous men who've had loaded guns pressed to his forehead, and even then he'd been okay. But with you - you unravel him in ways he never thought were possible.

He stops right in front you. He reaches out, his knuckles grazing your jaw. His hand opens to cup the side of your face as his thumb caresses your bottom lip. Your breath hitches, he uses the opportunity to press the tip of his thumb inside your mouth. Your lips close around it gently first before you start sucking and twirling your tongue around it while maintaining eye contact with him.

Jungkook swallows hard, his other hand balling into a fist at his side as if he's trying to hold himself back from grabbing your hair and yanking you down to suck onto something else.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asks rough, yet tenderly. "You've been so mad ever since I came."

He pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, brings it to his own mouth and licks your spit off it with his eyes locked onto yours. You stare back at him, your mouth opening and then closing, still holding back your answer.

Jungkook sighs again softly before leaning down close. So close that his nose brushes yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

You give him a confused, almost amused look. How dare he act polite now after spanking your ass the way he did?

Your lips pout just a little - enough for him to understand what you're saying. He grins, closing the distance. The kiss starts off gentle and soft. But you're not in the mood for his gentleness or softness. Your hands fly up to his hoodie, bringing him closer to insert your tongue into his mouth whilst kissing him harder.

He lets you dominate for a few seconds until he takes control as usual. His hand makes its way to the back of your neck, threading into your hair to tilt your head exactly where he wants it. His other hand goes to your waist, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you like he's trying to suffocate you, it's filthy and possessive. His tongue thrusts into your mouth making you whimper into his mouth. He sucks onto your bottom lip, nips on it then soothes it with his tongue

You try to fight for dominance – pushing against his chest, trying to change the angle, trying to get control. Jungkook just tightens his grip, growls low in throat and keeps dominating you. Until the memory of him walking into that event with that woman on his side, smiling with her, being glued to her, his mother beaming at her as if she's her future daughter-in-law - the memory hits you, ugly and unwelcomed. You bite down hard on Jungkook's lip.

He winces and breaks the kiss with a hiss, a little bit of blood blooms on lip. He looks at you with something dark and wild in his eyes, before suddenly placing his hands on your hips and flipping you onto all fours with effortless strength. You squeal, surprised. Before you can snap at him, his fingers find the waistbands of your shorts and your underwear underneath and pulls them down.

They pool at your knees, so now you're presented to him with your bare ass up, back arched and pussy glistening. He groans before leaning down to sink his teeth into one of your ass cheeks, biting on it as revenge.

You gasp and moan loudly at the same time. "Jungkook-"

He soothes the mark almost immediately, kissing his bite mark softly.

"Payback." he says against your skin.

He leans down lower, spreading you wider with his hands before latching his mouth on you. He doesn't start off slow, he licks you from your entrance to your clit greedily. You cry out loudly, your hips bucking back against his face.

He groans into you as if you're the best thing he's ever eaten. Because you are. He missed this – he missed you. Missed the way you taste, missed the way you get so wet for him, missed the you sound. He eats you out like he's starving. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking softly then becoming harder, thrusting his tongue into your entrance, while his tongue nudges your clit every time.

You're loud, you're always extremely loud. Moans escaping you loud and needy. "Jungkook- fuck. Right there, don't stop."

He hums against you, the vibrations turning you on even more. His hand grips your thigh tightly, holding you in place to prevent you from moving an inch from his mouth. After a very few minutes, you're shaking, moaning even louder.

"Jungkook- I'm- ah."

Jungkook always knows when you're close. He doubles his efforts, sucking and tongue fucking you even harder until you're releasing while moaning his name. He doesn't stop. He keeps licking you up slowly until you're whimpering softly. He pulls back to breathe, before leaving a few pecks on your swollen and sensitive pussy

He straightens and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You turn over so you can watch him. He reaches behind his neck to pull his hoodie over his head, his shirt follows afterwards.

You missed this sight more than you'd ever admit. The sight of Jeon Jungkook standing near your bed shirtless, flushed, looking so lustful. He's definitely the most attractive man you've ever seen – handsome, tall, muscular, tatted. You can't look away from him.

He catches you staring, his eyes darken and he gives you a small smirk. His hands move to his belt so that he can unbuckle it and put it aside. He pulls down the zip on his pants and pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard, thick and leaking at the tip.

You get off the bed, getting to your knees. Your mouth waters and your pussy clenches at the thought of having him in your mouth as soon as possible. At this moment all you think of is how you're about to give him the best head. You're concerning yourself with the event, with the other woman, nothing.

You wrap your hand around his thick cock and guide the tip to your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, licking and swallowing the precum. Jungkook hisses through his teeth. One of his hands finds the back of your head - not controlling your movements, just holding instead.

"Ah fuck, good girl..." he breathes.

You hum around him, content at the praise. You know he likes it so you take him deeper and hollow your cheeks as you suck on him. You've given  him head countless times so over time you've learnt how to give him the most enjoyable time.

You're pleasuring him exactly the way he likes – deep throating with saliva dripping down your chin. Jungkook's hips start jerking, chasing your mouth as you start bobbing your head.

"Just like that." he groans.

His free hand finds yours near his thigh and he intertwines them together.

"You're taking me so well, princess."

You moan around him, high and needy. Again, loving his praise. You pick up the pace, going faster until wet, slurping sounds fill the room. Saliva drips down your chin onto your chest, but you don't stop, you suck him deeper until your eyes water. Jungkook's losing it. His hand grips your hair tightly now as he thrusts into your mouth as gently as he possibly can.

"Gonna come-" he pants. "You want it down your throat?"

You answer by twirling your tongue around him, trying to take him impossibly deeper. He groans as he comes hard, down your throat. You swallow it as your head still bobs slowly. Jungkook curses under his breath.

When he finally stops pulsing, you pull off slowly until the tip is out your mouth with a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to him. You look up at through your slightly wet lashes, he stares down at you with an unreadable look.

You stand up slowly and sit back on the bed, propping yourself on your elbows. Jungkook stands there frozen for a few moments. Fuck, you're gorgeous. Eyes watery, chin wet, hair messy. He wants to tell you, wants to drop to his knees and tell you that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, that just looking at you makes his heart flutter, that he'd climb through your window every night if he could, just to see you for five minutes.

But the small ache that's still there in balls reminds him that you'd probably knee him again if he tried to be soft with you. So he doesn't speak, he just climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. He kisses you filthy and hungry. Your tongues slide together, tasting each other. Both of you moan and groan into each other's mouths animalistically.

It's one of your nastiest make-out sessions yet - teeth clashing, tongues colliding. He sucks onto your tongue, pulls it between his lips and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. He grinds against you causing his cock to slide against your inner thigh.

You arched up into him, nails digging into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He breaks the kiss to lift your camisole top up so it bunches at your arms. He doesn't pull it completely off yet, he just leans down and licks between your cleavage. He comes back to lick one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth.

You gasp, back arching off the bed and fingers flying to his hair. He groans around your nipple before switching to your other breast. He sucks and bites on it, making sure to leave his marks on you. As he sucks on the one, he palms the other, squeezing while using his thumb to play with your nipple.

"Gonna fuck you so good tonight." he mumbles roughly. "Gonna ruin this pretty pussy so every time you walk you'll remember I was here, so you remember that you're all mine."

You love this side of him. You love how possessive he sounds over you, how he praises you, but the words do not sit right with you tonight. 'Mine.' When he walked into that event with someone else by his side. The anger suddenly surges back, but you don't say or do anything yet. You know how you're going to torment him and you're about to enjoy it more than anything.

Jungkook pulls your camisole off completely, tosses it somewhere then gets his pants and boxers off. He's completely naked now. He settles between your thighs while he keeps kissing you wherever he can reach – on your throat, your collarbone and between your breasts.

One of his hands reaches down to wrap around his length, guiding himself to your entrance. He nudges the tip through your folds, teasing the both of you and he smears his precum with your wetness until you're both softly groaning. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and wild and lustful.

"You want me, baby?" he asks, his voice rough and heavy with restraint.

You stare up at him, your nails now digging into his shoulders a bit angrily. Instead of answering him, you lift your hips, trying to slide yourself down onto him, taking him slowly. Jungkook curses and pushes in the rest of the way, stretching you open until he's buried all the way.

You both freeze for a second, breathing in each other's air. After a short while, Jungkook starts to move into you. His hands find yours and he intertwines them above your head. He pulls out then sinks in even deeper with a loud groan.

"Fuck." his forehead drops down onto yours and his eyes flutter shut. "This is the best feeling in the world. Nothing comes close to this.

He truly means it. To him there's nothing better than being buried inside you and feeling you wrap around him. It's addictive to him, he could spend the rest of his life buried in your pussy and be the happiest man on Earth.

You're soaking wet, allowing him to thrust into you with ease. He moves slowly at first, pulling out and pushing back in, until he goes deeper and harder. Fucking you in the way that drives you insane for him.

By now you're moaning, unfiltered and needy. Your nails rake down his back, hard enough to leave your marks on him. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back to pull him deeper.

Jungkook loves how you get when he fucks you. He loves how needy you get, how pretty you sound. He doesn't know why it gets him so hard and turned on, why hearing you fall apart because of him makes him feel so possessive over you. Jungkook wishes he could experience this feeling forever. Just you and him, being so intimate and desperate for each other.

"Listen to you." he groans against your ear, fucking you harder now. "So loud for me. Taking me so well."

You're enjoying this way too much. Jungkook is being so perfect tonight. He's rough and praising – just the way you love him. You can feel him everywhere, on top of you, inside of you, surrounding you.

This has to be one of the best fucks you and him have ever had. Maybe it's because you're angry at him, and maybe it's because you felt something you'd hate to admit when you saw him with that woman. Maybe those are reasons why you're enjoying it so much, it's because a part of you is glad that he's here, pleasuring you.

But even as you melt under him and the pleasure builds, your mind still wanders off to places you wish it wouldn't. What if he fucks that woman like this? What if he whispers the same filthy praises in her ears? What if he tells her that being inside of her is the best thing ever?

Your nails grip into his back harder, with a small intention to hurt him. To make your marks on him even more visible and obvious. Jungkook hisses, both in pain and pleasure. His pace increases as if you marking him turns him on more.

"Fuck, mark me up, baby." he pants. "Let everyone know who I belong to."

You almost let out a bitter laugh, because it sounds so ironic. Purposely, you clench around him hard, pussy fluttering tightly around his cock causing Jungkook's perfect rhythm to stutter. A moan escapes Jungkook and his hips jerk forward.

"Fuck – don't - don't do that–"

He loves when you do that, when you squeeze tightly, clenching around his cock, trapping him inside you. But on the downside, it makes him come way too fast – embarrassingly fast. Every time you do it, he begs you to stop. His hips thrust forward as he pant.

"Baby stop. I'm gonna – "

You do not stop, instead you clench and unclench around him until he's groaning loudly and releasing into you. He buries his face in your neck, hips bucking as he comes with a curse.

When it's over he stays there breathing hard with his hands still laced with yours. The bliss for him does not last. He lifts his head slowly and looks at you, realising that he hasn't made you come. You're just looking at him with something mean in your eyes. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together.

He does not like this. He never ever likes coming before you. It feels wrong, like he failed you somehow. He always wants you to come first, or at least to come with him. That's how it should be. Your pleasure before his own. Your pleasure is his priority.

He pulls out slowly and braces himself on his forearms above your head. "Baby..." you notice he sounds quite pissed off. "What the fuck was that?"

You blink up at him, looking like the picture of innocence. "Hmm?" you hum sweetly. "What was what?"

Jungkook stares down at you. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something. He wants to question you, wants to accuse you. He wants to ask what the hell is going on in that head of yours? Why are you doing this? He swallows his questions and leans in slowly to kiss the corner of your mouth before pulling back to look at you.

You stare at him, he's all flushed with his hair messy. You can't help but think that he looks cute like this. Way too cute for someone who can kill with his bare hands. Your heart does something stupid and infuriating. You hate him for making you feel this way.

He reaches down, grabs his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe between your thighs where his release still spills out. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lines himself at your entrance again.

You're still wet, but still, he pushes in slowly until he's deep inside. You both exhale. He stays still for a second, feeling how you're still lightly fluttering around him. He starts to move through your tight walls against your sensitive spots that he knows so well. He knows your body better than his own, so he definitely knows how to give you a good time.

You moan right against his ear and he groans lowly in response. He buries his face in your neck and starts kissing you there, open-mouthed and hungrily. You tug his hair, pulling him closer, motivating him to pick up the pace. Your breasts bounce with every one of his thrusts and Jungkook cannot stop staring at you.

"You're so pretty when you're getting fucked." he rasps.

He hooks his hands under your knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders. The new angle allows him to sink in even deeper. Your eyes flutter shut at the perplexing feeling.

Minutes pass, sweat forms on Jungkook's temple, dropping down to his jaw, making him look even hotter. His stamina is insane, he could usually go on for hours. His focus right now is on making you come all for him.

He's been very needy as of recently, since he hasn't been sexually active in a very long time, so when he feels his own pleasure building in his lower belly and his thighs starting to shake, he's not surprised.

He can feel that you're close as well, your pussy starts fluttering around him. You're so close. He brings your legs down and hooks them around his waist so he can hover over you with his forearms braced on either side of your head. He's close enough to you that you both breathe in each other's breaths. He kisses your jaw, the corner of your mouth and you cheek bone before leaning to your ear to speak roughly.

"I'm close, baby. Come with me." he whispers. "Please – wanna feel you come on my dick. Wanna come together."

Your pussy flutters around him greedily and he groans. "Fuck, yeah–"

You're milking him hard, making his head spin. He cannot hold himself, he comes hard, burying himself inside you with a moan, his hips jerking through it. He waits, waiting to feel your walls seize him deep and gush around him. But there's nothing, absolutely nothing. You're panting and breathing heavily but you haven't released.

Jungkook processes it for a few seconds, then slowly, he pulls out. His cock is still hard, but softens now that the pleasure is being replaced by something else entirely. He braces himself on his forearm, hovering over you.

He asks, low and quite annoyed, "Are you doing this on purpose?"

Again, you look up at him innocently. "Doing that?" you tilt your head at him, faking confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jungkook clenches his jaw. He exhales through his nose, frustrated. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're not coming. You're holding it back just to fuck with me."

You let out a small scoff. "Maybe you're just not doing a good enough job."

The words hit Jungkook right where it hurts the most. He freezes for a few seconds. Then his eyes darken, his fingers grip the sheet as if he's trying to hold himself back. What you just told him is the worst thing you could've ever told him, it bruises him like nothing else. You've told him that he isn't good enough for you, that he could not satisfy you.

He growls low, "You fucking brat."

He roughly flips you over so you're on your stomach. You gasp and barely have time to brace yourself before he yanks you up, so you're on fours in front of him. Your face is pressed into the sheets and your ass in the air. His slaps your ass cheek hard, so hard that the sound echoes in your massive room. You yelp and moan, jerking forward.

His hand wraps around throat, tilting your head back so you're arching. He pulls you up until your back is against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. His warm breath fans your ear. His other hand goes down to deliver a smack directly to your clit. You cry out shamelessly, pain and pleasure shooting through you.

"Stop your fucking shit." he growls against your ear. "Right now."

You laugh breathlessly, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Why? What are you gonna do about it, Jeon?"

His grip on your throat tightens slightly and his teeth graze your earlobe. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."

His hand between your thighs moves up higher, he slides two fingers through your folds, circling your clit. You whimper, melting into his touch even as you try to stay defiant.

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" he murmurs. "You think I don't know how you're trying to make me mad?"

His fingers press against your clit harder as he kisses your neck, sucking onto the marks he's left. He inserts his fingers inside you again, curling them deep. He finger-fucks you until you're panting and moaning again.

He carries on until he knows you're about to release, but still, you don't. You refuse to give him what he so desperately wants, you continue denying yourself just to spite him. You're still winning whatever fucked up game this is.

Jungkook pulls his fingers out abruptly and uses his hand to deliver another smack to clit before cupping it, feeling you throb against him. He tries to catch his breath, he's fuming at this point. What kind of torture is this?

But Jungkook being Jungkook, is not going to give up. He lines himself at your entrance again and sinks into you in a hard thrust. You moan, nails digging into his arm where it holds you across your stomach. Again, he starts fucking you, but harder and deeper now, keeping one arm securely around your waist and the other loosely around your neck.

You're so loud, whimpering and moaning softly – those sweet sounds he lives for. He goes on for long until he can feel the pleasure building for himself, warning him that he was going to come yet again but he can still feel you holding back.

He stops moving, his hips thrust forward one last time and he stays buried deep inside you. He lets out a frustrated groan as his forehead drops to your shoulder, both his hands moving to your hips now.

"What is your fucking problem?" he asks furiously, almost pleading.

For a moment, you say nothing. Then you finally let it out. "I can't stand you." you say, your own voice furious. It kind of sounds like you're at the verge of crying. "You're so stupid, Jungkook. So fucking blind. How can you be here, fucking me, when you brought someone along with you to the event? Let your mom beam at her, like she's something important to you–"

Jungkook freezes, although his grip on your waist tightens as he processes your little outburst. After a few seconds, he huffs out a laugh against your neck.

"Is this funny to you!?" you hiss, yanking forward trying to pull away from him.

His cock almost slips out of you, but you don't make it away because he pulls you back against him so roughly, your ass recoils against his hips. You hate yourself for the pure moan that spills out of you.

Jungkook's lips brush your ear as he speaks, "You're jealous." he says, smug and delighted.

"I'm not jealous." you spit, rageful. "I hate you. I hate that you think you just parade with someone else, then climb through my window like I'm yours to fuck whenever you want me."

"Oh, princess." he pulls out and thrusts inside you. "You are still mine. And yeah, I brought someone else to the event. She's just a family friend. An old arrangement my mom's been pushing for years. She doesn't mean shit. I don't want her, baby."

"Bullshit."

He presses a soft, tender kiss to the side of your neck. "You think I'd risk everything, my reputation, my life – just to be someone who isn't you?" his tone turns serious, losing the smugness. "You're the only person I want."

You're speechless, not believing what you just heard. But of course, you're not going to admit how happy his words have made you, so instead you clench around his cock hard. He winces and his hips jerk forward.

"Fuck." he grunts, letting out a ragged breath. 

He sucks another mark onto your neck while rolling his hips into you.

"You think I look at anyone else the way I look at you?"

He thrusts into you deeply again, making you moan and arch your back.

"You're the only one," he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "The only one who makes me this stupid, this weak. This fucking desperate."

He punctuates each sent with a thrust before sticking to the perfect rhythm that has you moaning his name. He removes the hand from your throat and brings it down to your breasts to knead them.

"Look at these tits. So fucking perfect." he groans. "You know how many times I jerked off thinking about them?"

He pinches one of your nipples, making you whimper before he soothes it.

"You're so tight," he continues, his hips carry on thrusting in and out of you. "So wet, so fucking greedy. No one else feels like this."

He sucks more marks onto your neck while his hand goes down to rub your clit, causing you to cry out his name.

"Jungkook–ah"

Fuck. He wants those sounds in his mouth, he wants to swallow it, he wants to taste you. He grabs your face with his other hand, turning it to give you a messy kiss. He pushes his tongue inside your mouth,exploring and swallowing your pretty sounds.

Jungkook doesn't even understand what he wants anymore. All he knows is that he wants all of you. He never wants to ever pull out, he just wants to spend the rest of his life buried deep inside of you. His thrusts become even more relentless. He pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. He puts a hand on your hip, pulling you against him to meet his thrust.

You're fluttering around him wildly, more than usual. Your breathless words become incoherent now, making Jungkook dizzy.

"Come on, baby." he growls against your mouth. "Come for me. I need to feel you."

You shamelessly scream his name as you gush around him. Warm liquid drips down his cock, soaking his thighs and sheets. Jungkook's eyes open wide as he feels the sensation, the wetness drenches him from the base to the tip. His thrusts stutter as he continues slamming into you

"Oh fuck–"

Jungkook is gone. He must be in paradise.

He releases, burying himself as deep as possible, coming into you while panting. He carries on going while you tremble and whimper beneath him.

When it finally ends, he collapses over you, his forehead on your back. He stays inside of you, not being able to out since you're still fluttering around him.

Jungkook is astounded. After a moment, he finally speaks. "Fuck... you just squirted all over me."

You immediately stiffen, feeling a sudden sense of embarrassment. You try to squirm away, but he tightens his hold on you, staying inside of you. You bury your face into your pillow and let out a mortified groan. Jungkook softly kisses your shoulder and then your neck.

"That was the hottest fucking thing ever." he rasps against you. "I'm gonna make you do it again and again."

You whimper, wanting to protest, but deciding against it, because you know that once Jungkook wants something, he's determined to get it. Especially if it revolves around you.

•───୨୧───•

Minutes later, the room is quiet. Jungkook lay on his back, an arm over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. The sheets are damp beneath him, but it doesn't bother him. He stares at the ceiling, thinking. 

He turns his head to look at you. You're laying on your side, facing away from him with a blanket covering half your naked body. Jungkook looks at you in pure admiration and desire. He could go again right now. Slide inside you from the back and go for another round or two, but he decides not to – he's a bit tired and you must be even more.

The distance between the two of you feels wrong, he wants your bodies to be touching, he wants contact with you. He shifts over, closing the gap until your back is pressed against his chest. He puts his arm over your waist, bringing you closer to him. You let him pull you close until your ass is nestled perfectly in between his thighs. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent – you smell like your sweet body wash, sweat, sex and mostly him. He kisses your neck a few times.

"Why're you so away from me?" he asks, against you.

You sigh. "I feel gross." you admit.

"I don't." he kisses under your jaw softly. "I feel incredible."

He caresses your stomach soothingly. "But I do think you should pee. And we should shower."

"Yeah..." you say.

He kisses your shoulder one more time before standing up. "Come on." he lets out his hand for you to take.

You take his hand, letting him pull you up. Your legs are wobbly so he steadies you by holding you and guiding you to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, Jungkook opens the taps, making sure that the temperature is perfect for you, while you pee.

After you're done, you step past him and into the shower. He follows after you. The hot water cascades over you, it feels absolutely amazing. Jungkook squeezes some of your body wash into his hands, planning to wash you. But you shrug him off, not wanting him to touch you.

His hands fall away. He takes a moment to look at you. You look really tense as if something is wrong. As much as he wants to, he doesn't try to get you to tell him. He just stands under the shower next to you and washes himself as well.

Once you're both done, you turn off the tap. Jungkook grabs a towel and wraps it around you. He then gets two more, one to wrap around hips and the other for your wet hair.

"Thanks." you tell him

He nods before following you out the bathroom and back to your bedroom. The sheets are a disaster so he takes them off, dumps them into the laundry basket and puts new ones on the bed.

Jungkook glances at you every now and then, watching as you dry your hair with a stoic expression. He finds his discarded boxers and puts them on before getting into bed with a tired sigh.

He watches you pull over a silky, short sleep dress and tie up your hair. You look like something out of a fever dream. A little ruined, his marks all over you, limping a little. You're so beautiful.

You get into the bed next to him, laying on your side, facing him now. None of you speak, you just stare into each other's eyes.

After a while you speak. "When did you start being so... affectionate?"

He raises an eyebrow at you, amused.

"Most of the time you just fuck me and leave, or I leave. You don't stay, hold me or do any of this."

Jungkook gives you a small smirk and moves closer to you, putting an arm around your waist to pull you against him so that there's absolutely no space between you. He dips his head to peck your lips then looks at you again.

"I feel bad.. For making you think that there was someone else."

You snort softly in disbelief.

"Although," he smirks. "You being jealous was so adorable."

You smack his chest. "I was not."

He hums sceptically. "Sure you weren't."

"I was not."

"Uh huh."

You glare at him, half-heartedly. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer to make you snuggle against him.

"Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Jungkook."

୨୧

The next evening comes quickly. Jungkook snuck out of your room early in the morning, making sure that nobody had seen him. Before leaving, he cradled your face in his hands and kissed you deep and desperately, asking you to unblock him and text him when you can. After he left, you felt a great sense of relief, but also missed him.

The rest of the day went by sprightly. You made yourself a delicious breakfast, you wrote and took a heavenly bath. Around six, your mother texted you, telling you to come by for dinner and to dress elegantly. You chose a beautiful outfit and got ready.

Soon, you're arriving at your family's estate, walking inside your childhood home to the dining room. When your mother sees you, she stands up and walks over to you.

"Sweetheart, there you are." she kisses your cheek before leading you to the table.

Your eyes wander over the scene before you. Your father sits at the table, across Mr Kim* and Mrs Kim, both of them looking sophisticated as always. And beside the, Sits a guy around your age.

He's tall, handsome, almost bewitching, you find yourself staring at him for a few seconds too long. You vaguely recognise him. He's Taehyung, heir of the Kims.

Your mother squeezes your waist gently and a little too enthusiastically. "Y/N, you remember the Kims?"

You nod politely, faking a smile.

"This," your mother says excitedly, "is their son, Taehyung. Taehyung, this is our daughter."

Taehyung stands. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly." he says, sounding rather amused.

"Likewise."

Your mother beams, looking between the two of you. "Why don't you sit, darling? Dinner's almost ready."

You nod and walk over to the table, taking a seat. Taehyung slides into the chair next to you and you catch the scent of his cologne, it's almost identical to Jungkook's, though you find Jungkook's much more preferable.

Your father clears his throat before raising his glass to make a toast. "To family and legacy."

Everyone raises their glasses and clinks together. Your mother waits until the clink fades, before she speaks.

"Sweetheart... we wanted to tell you this in person."

You stare at your mother with a poker face, though your awful suspicion grows. You want to throw up when your mother actually confirms your fear.

"Taehyung is your fiancé."

hii pookies, i worked so so so hard on this! i hope you guys enjoyed it🩷if you're interested, you can find part two on my patreon. either as a normal product — Best mistake 02 or on my membership tier — rkive (comes with other benefits, i will be posting everything on here first, along with extras in the future. feel free to check it out). also, ios users please try purchasing via the web to avoid paying extra fees. and once again, if you guys do support me, please know that i sincerely appreciate you <3

warnings – y/n's kinda emotional, mentions of period sex, possessive and kinda crazy jk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, mentions of oral, fingering, praising, jk makes out with her pussy, deep and rough sex, boob sucking, explicit language, i cannot mention a few things as it will spoil the story lol, but there's drama and a lot of cracking, etc...

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.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon,” you greeted happily, practically sashaying toward him.

His attention lifted from the page.

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.