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The watch on Jeongguk’s wrist read half past five as he exited his workplace. He reached for the black umbrella in his bag as soon as the cold drizzle touched his skin. It was typical for him to stay an hour or two past his work hours, making the following day easier on himself; today, however, was the exception.

Being summoned by his higher-up had never felt as nerve-wracking as it did today. There were rumors and whispers of an alleged promotion — the kind that, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have disrupted his strict and already impeccable routine. He wanted to believe this time wasn’t any different. Nonetheless, whoever got this promotion would be stationed in Barcelona, Spain. That single fact turned an otherwise unappealing opportunity into something he wanted badly.

Born and raised in Seoul, where he’d studied international business and spent the past six years working as an assistant director of international partnerships at a well-known global trading firm, Jeongguk had built a life that looked, on paper, exactly like what he was supposed to want. He was bored of it. Bored of the mundane, the repetitive, the predictable. Applying for the promotion had been impulsive, almost out of character, and he was certain it was a long shot. Still, he found himself working harder than ever, as if devotion now could make up for the doubt underneath it.

“Congratulations, Jeon.” Said the older man sitting across from Jeongguk, separated by a black marble desk. The highest in the food chain, as far as regional bosses go. “The position is yours. Six weeks until your flight to Barcelona departs.”

Flat and emotionless. His delivery strangely helped Jeongguk’s anxiety, which skyrocketed once he sat down before his boss. Somehow, he could not believe he was chosen, even though he was the best out of the bunch. He wasn’t particularly driven by passion or love for his craft, but he was disciplined, and most of his coworkers lacked this indispensable virtue. 

“Fuck.” Jeongguk whispered to himself, staring at his wet shoes. “I can’t speak Spanish.”

The same wet shoes were quickly dropped by the entrance as Jeongguk practically ran to his home office. “Spanish… tutors… near me.” He muttered while simultaneously typing on his computer.

Jeongguk’s decision to apply for this promotion wasn’t reckless solely because it would require moving halfway across the globe, but also because he barely spoke the language his new home would require him to speak. This concern never crossed his mind before because he was naturally skilled at communicating with others and rarely needed to step outside his comfort zone when it came to foreign languages. A talented business major through and through, Jeongguk already knew three languages — Japanese, Mandarin, and English — in addition to his mother tongue. He mediated countless meetings for company branches across East Asia, to the point that he assumed the unofficial position of spokesperson whenever any of these languages were expected. He never needed to learn Spanish; now it seems as if his life depends on it.

As Jeongguk scrolled through the first tutoring website he found, he felt a level of anxiety that practically blinded him. He didn’t realize until that exact instant… He was moving to Barcelona. Away from comfort, from his predictable routine, and from everything that was familiar. As he reached the seventh page of tutor profiles, his eyes landed on one that made him pause.

It was the only profile without a profile picture or a tutor description. You only wrote your name and the languages you spoke, one of which was Spanish. You thought adding a professional headshot and highlighting your experience and skills seemed too pretentious, considering you saw tutoring as a hobby, a hobby that provided you with a few extra coins. That may be why you've only had four students in the eight months your profile has been up on the website. Jeongguk could see that those four students were satisfied with their experiences, judging by the remarkable five-star rating next to your nonexistent profile picture.

Jeongguk laughed at himself, acknowledging that it would be a terrible idea not to go with the tutor with the most experience and reviews. Again, it seemed as if his life depended on learning Spanish in six weeks. However… There was something exhilarating about taking risks— the last one had gotten him a promotion and a life in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. After a life filled with monotony, he was ready to be reckless.

You were startled by the sudden notification on your phone, more so after seeing it was a request for your tutoring services. “Okay, Jeongguk wants to learn Spanish,” you mentioned out loud while reading his message. “Fun!”

You were different from other tutors. Specifically, you preferred doing your tutoring sessions in person. In a coffee shop, at a library, or sometimes in a park. You believed that face-to-face learning triumphed over online lessons because understanding the nuances behind certain words and phrases was easier if your students could clearly perceive your gestures, something that may be complicated if you were relying on your choppy wi-fi. However, you couldn’t deny that this preference may be strange to some of your potential students due to the lack of identifiable information in your profile.

Jeongguk was one of those students. He saw your request as if the universe was giving him one last chance to change his mind, return to the first page, and book a lesson with the highest-rated tutor. He, once again, decided to ignore his logical inner voice and quickly accepted your wish to meet in a local coffee shop. Who knows? He might find the best coffee he’s ever tasted there if things keep going how they are.

Sitting down in the nearest booth with his caramel macchiato, Jeongguk was fidgeting to calm his nerves. His mind drifted into a spiral of doubt. All he knew about you was your name and that you knew Spanish. That was all he needed to know; still, he kept his expectations low, focusing his mind on the tough task of learning a new language instead. His mind continued drifting until his thoughts were interrupted by a harmonious voice.

“You’re Jeongguk, right?” You approached him, recognizing his face from his profile picture. “It is so nice to meet you.” You introduced yourself and immediately sat down in the open seat across from him once he nodded to your question.

He repeated your name to himself, taking in your looks and thanking every higher power that you were not some weird scammer. “I look forward to learning from you.” 

Indeed, you were rather beautiful. It took him some time to adjust to actually focusing on your melodious voice instead of your drawing eyes. Your smile was blinding, and you seemed so carefree and pleasant, which was the opposite of what he had frequently observed while working in such a ruthless environment. Similarly, you had never seen someone like Jeongguk before. He wasn’t just handsome; he looked like a fallen angel lost on Earth, with the kind of face and body that would inspire artists from the Renaissance. It sounds hyperbolic, but you genuinely started trembling when he confirmed he was the person you were looking for. His profile picture must have been outdated, you thought, because he now had a lip ring that flawlessly accentuated his rosy lips. By the looks of his attire — clean, monochromatic, and professional —, he seemed important. You wondered why he chose you out of so many potential tutors. You were so used to teaching college students and youngsters looking for helpful phrases to use during overseas trips. This was sure to be a teaching experience unlike any you had before.

“So,” You began, digging your thoughts deeper into your subconscious. “Tell me a bit about yourself. Why do you want to learn Spanish?”

“Well, I recently got a promotion.” You briefly clapped at his news. “Thank you. The only thing is that I’ll need to relocate to Spain. In six weeks.” His expression suddenly shifted. “And, as you can probably gather from my request for your services, I don’t know how to speak Spanish.”

“That’s not too bad, six weeks is plenty of time.” You scoffed, noticing that Jeongguk seemed stressed. Six weeks was definitely not enough time, but admitting this wouldn’t make it easier on either of you.

Your reassuring words made Jeongguk feel at ease.

“Let’s start with the basics, then.” You took a few items out of the backpack you were carrying. “Tell me what you’ve done today so far. In Spanish, of course.”

Jeongguk laughed until he saw you kept a serious expression. “Oh… I guess we have different definitions of basics.” 

"Basics for me just means figuring out where you're actually starting from," you said, softening it when you saw the color drain from his face. "Everyone's basics look different. So humor me." You slid a vocabulary book across the table. "Tell me about your morning. In Spanish."

He blinked. "All of it?"

"However much you can manage. Doesn't have to be pretty."

He opened his mouth, and nothing came out. Not even a stumble— just silence, and the particular stillness of a man realizing he had absolutely nothing to draw from. You watched the composure that had gotten him through a promotion interview start to slip, replaced by something closer to genuine alarm, and it caught you off guard how quickly you wanted to walk it back for him.

"Okay," you said, gentler. "Let's try something smaller. Just tell me what you're drinking." You nodded at his cup.

"Café," he said, cautious, like it might be a trap.

"Good. Now put a sentence around it. 'Estoy tomando café.'" I’m drinking coffee.

"Estoy… tomando café." He repeated the phrase slowly, testing its shape in his mouth, and something in his shoulders eased when it came out right. "That's it?"

"That's it. You just said your first sentence."

He looked, for a second, genuinely pleased with himself. The kind of small, unguarded pride that didn't match the composed man you sat down across from ten minutes ago. It made you smile, watching that shift. "Okay. What else can I say?"

"Depends. What do you actually want to be able to say?"

"Anything. Everything. I have six weeks and apparently zero foundation to work with." He said it lightly, but there were real nerves beneath the surface, and you found yourself softening your approach without realizing it.

"Six weeks is tight, but it's workable if we're smart about it," you said. Then, because it felt wrong to let the reassurance sit there unchallenged, you added, "Honestly, tight is generous. It's going to be a lot of repetition and probably some frustration. I'd rather tell you that now than have you find out in week three."

He considered that, turning his cup slowly on the table. "I appreciate the honesty."

"I figured you'd prefer brutal honesty rather than a nicer version."

"I do." A small, surprised smile. "Most people give me the nice version."

"I'm not most people."

"Clearly." He said it like an observation, not a line, and something about the plainness of it sat warmer than a joke would have. His eyes lingered on yours longer than your heart could handle. "Alright. Teach me something else. Something I'll actually use."

You started him on simple present tense—estoy, tengo, quiero—building sentence by sentence off things actually in front of him: his coffee, the rain outside, the fact that he was nervous, which he refused to say out loud in his native language, let alone Spanish, until you needled him into it. He was quick, quicker than most students you'd had, picking up patterns after hearing them once and testing the edges of what he could say instead of just repeating what you gave him. It made sense when you learned that he was already proficient in a few languages. Holding this fact, you intentionally tried to increase the difficulty level. By the time you'd worked through a dozen sentences, he'd stopped bracing before he spoke.

"You're better at this than you think," you told him, and meant it.

"I had a good teacher rip the training wheels off in the first five minutes. Bit unconventional, but it worked."

"Don't get used to gentle. That was a warm-up."

"That was gentle?" He asked with genuine concern.

"Compared to what's coming? Extremely." You closed the notebook halfway, marking your place.

By the time the coffee shop's lights dimmed for closing, you'd gone through two rounds of conjugations, one increasingly ridiculous argument about whether "tú" or "usted" was the correct way to address your own boss, and a solid ten minutes where Jeongguk insisted he'd already mastered "estoy" and kept trying to bolt it onto everything, including things that didn't need a verb at all.

"Estoy Jeongguk," he tried, testing it.

"That's not how it works."

"Estoy... very confident that it does."

"It does not. You don't 'estoy' a name, you just say the name."

"You're telling me I can't improvise."

"I'm telling you that you tried to conjugate your own identity, and I need you to sit with that for a second."

"See, when you put it like that, it sounds insane."

"It was insane in real time, too." You laughed louder than you meant to. "Same time in two days?"

“Can’t wait to learn more from you.” Your heart skipped a beat seeing his smile as he waved goodbye to you.

On your next lesson, something was different. Same booth, similar monochromatic outfit, but he had a notebook of his own this time— not the one you'd given him, a different one, small and battered, already half full of handwriting.

"What's that?" You pointed to the notebook.

"Homework." He said it like a confession. "I looked up some things after our lesson. I wanted to see if I could get further on my own before you decided I was a lost cause."

"I don't decide people are lost causes."

"You did call me insane after I butchered the conjugation of ‘estoy.’"

"That was a joke, not a professional assessment." You reached for the notebook before he could stop you, flipping through it, and found — of course you did — that it was organized by category, verb tenses on one page, useful phrases on another, a small section labeled simply MISTAKES with three entries under it, each one crossed out with a correction written beside it in tidier handwriting than the original.

"You made yourself a mistake log." You were impressed, and your face showed it when you turned to look at a seemingly embarrassed Jeongguk.

"I like tracking things I've gotten wrong so I don't get them wrong twice."

"That's either extremely disciplined or deeply unwell."

"I like to think of it as a diversified skill set." He took the notebook back before you could read further, a little more self-conscious than his tone let on, and you found the sudden shyness almost more interesting than the notebook itself, because up until now, he hadn't shown you a single thing he wasn't fully in control of.

"Show me the mistakes," you said.

"Absolutely not."

"Jeongguk." This time, you finally sat down, your face inching closer to his.

"They're embarrassing."

"That's exactly why I want to see them."

He caved, eventually, sliding the notebook back across with the reluctance of a man handing over evidence at trial. You went through his mistakes: a gender agreement error, a mixed-up preterite, and a phrase he'd apparently misheard from a YouTube video and written down completely wrong. You corrected each one without laughing, though it cost you some effort, especially on the third, which you couldn’t even pretend you understood.

"This isn't even a real sentence," you said. "This means 'the elephant regrets nothing.'"

"I thought it meant 'no worries.'"

"It does not mean 'no worries.'" You both laughed at how ridiculous this mistranslation was.

"Well, now I know that. That's what the log is for."

You couldn't help it. You laughed again, and he looked so pleased with himself for causing it that you had to look back down at the notebook just to stop him from seeing exactly how pleased that made you in return. The rest of the lesson went quickly after that, buoyed by whatever he'd built on his own, and by the time you packed up, he'd added a fourth mistake to the log, this one made in real time, in front of you, without flinching.

"Progress," you said, nodding at it.

"Diversified skill set," he said again, and this time you both laughed.

He pulled out his phone to add your next session to his calendar, and you found yourself glancing over without quite meaning to—color-coded blocks stacked neatly across the week, each one labeled with a precision that bordered on excessive. Although you were the teacher, you thought there were many things you could learn from Jeongguk. So calculated, so thorough. So coordinated, so organized. It made you curious.

You gathered your things a few minutes later, the usual routine — notebook zipped away, pen capped, mental checklist for next time — except tonight you caught yourself lingering over it, in no particular hurry to leave the booth. It wasn't something you let yourself examine too closely on the walk to your car. However, you noticed, distantly, that you'd already started looking forward to the mistakes he'd bring you next time, and that this was not, strictly speaking, a normal thing to look forward to about a client.

For your third meeting, he was late for the first time, which felt so out of character that you almost texted to check on him before he came jogging in, tie slightly crooked, apologizing before he'd even sat down.

"Sorry. The meeting with the Barcelona branch ran long. They've started wanting updates every other day now.” He plopped himself down on the seat next to you. “I can't tell if that means they're excited or if they think I'm going to back out."

"Breathe. No need to apologize." The sudden proximity took you aback. He didn’t seem to mind how close he sat.

"I am breathing."

"You're breathing like you just ran here."

"I did just run here." He said as he let out a deep sigh, dragging a hand through his hair, and for the first time since you'd met him, the composure actually cracked all the way. "Sorry. I know I'm paying you to teach me, not to see me having a small breakdown in a coffee shop."

"You're allowed a small breakdown.” You reassured him. “This is a lot, what you're doing."

"Is it? Everyone at work keeps calling it exciting."

"It can be exciting and a lot. Those aren't mutually exclusive." You slid your own coffee toward him, only half-joking. "Drink that. You look like you need it more than I do."

He took it, and something in his shoulders came down half an inch. "Thank you."

"For the coffee or the pep talk?"

"Both. Neither. I don't know." He exhaled, finally looking like himself again, if a slightly more unguarded version of himself. "Can we just do something easy today? I don't think I have the bandwidth for you tearing apart my subjunctive."

"We can do easy." You considered him for a second, something softening in you that you didn't examine too closely. "Tell me about Barcelona. Not the job. Just— what do you actually know about the city? What are you looking forward to, if anything?"

It was meant as a distraction, a simple way of easing him back into speaking without the pressure of being right. He answered slowly, actually thinking about it, and what came out surprised you both. Something about wanting to walk somewhere without a schedule attached to it, about not remembering the last time he'd done something just because he wanted to and not because it was useful. He’s searched online for places to visit once he arrives. He looked excited, for once. You listened and didn't correct a single verb the whole time he talked, even when he got things wrong, because it didn't feel like it was your place to interrupt.

"That's the first real thing you've told me about yourself," you said, once he'd trailed off, a little embarrassed at how much he'd said.

"Is it terrible?" He looked self-conscious.

"Not at all, it's just very you. Apparently, even the stuff you want is efficient. You want to do unstructured activities, but you're already planning how you'll do them."

He laughed and didn't put any distance back between you, the way you half expected him to once the moment passed. If anything, he'd settled in closer over the course of the conversation, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him against your arm, and something eased between you that hadn't been there minutes before. The particular ease of two people who'd stopped performing for each other and stopped minding how little space was left between them.

In your next session, the coffee shop was particularly loud. A birthday party three tables over, someone's badly-timed acoustic guitar rendition of a song you both silently agreed was better left unplayed, and halfway through trying to explain the subjunctive over the noise, Jeongguk finally set his pen down.

"I can't hear myself think, let alone conjugate."

"Welcome to public spaces." You smiled. It was becoming hard for you, too.

"I'm serious. Is this shop usually this lively?" Jeongguk felt a headache coming on, so used to his completely silent office.

"Lately, yeah. New owner started doing live music nights, I think."

He considered something for a second, turning his cup, the same slightly-too-careful expression he got right before he said something he'd clearly been sitting on. "Would it be easier somewhere quieter? My place isn't far. I don't mind hosting, if that's okay with you."

You studied him for a beat too long, long enough that he visibly wondered if he'd overstepped, opening his mouth like he might take it back —before you shrugged, keeping your voice light even though something in your chest had gone very still. "Quieter's better for listening comprehension anyway. Send me the address."

Your mind started racing as you parked in front of his apartment. There was no power imbalance besides the clear teacher-student dynamic you were desperately trying to maintain. Regardless, it felt strange crossing this boundary with a client, as if you were doing something you knew was wrong. You were unsure why you felt this way… It wasn’t as if you were about to do something you weren’t supposed to. Right? 

You shook the thought off before it could finish forming, grabbed your bag, walked up to his door, and knocked. Whatever this feeling was, it could wait until after the lesson, or so you told yourself, right up until he opened the door.

His apartment was exactly what you expected from someone who color-coded his calendar: clean lines, nothing out of place, a bookshelf organized by height instead of subject. You almost laughed when you saw it.

"What?" he asked, catching your expression.

"Nothing. It's very... you."

"Is that an insult?"

"Depends on how the rest of the lesson goes."

"Ominous." He toed off his shoes at the door with the practiced neatness of a man who'd never once left them scattered. "Coffee?"

"Only if it's better than the shop's."

"It's way better than the shop's." He quickly scoffed.

"That's exactly what someone with worse coffee would say." A chuckle escaped your lips. You enjoyed teasing him this way.

He made it anyway and set the cup in front of you with the particular smugness of someone certain he'd win the argument once you tasted it. You didn't give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right, though the small, betraying sound you made after the first sip probably gave you away.

"I heard that," he said.

"You heard nothing."

"I heard a sound of defeat. I’ll claim the victory this time.” Still so smug, it was nice to see him being silly after your previous lesson.

You settled at his dining table, Jeongguk quickly sitting in the chair next to yours. The lesson went the way previous lessons had gone: efficient at first, then slower, then punctuated by tangents that had nothing to do with grammar. He asked about your other students, clearly fishing to find out if any of them got the same treatment he did.

"So," he said, entirely too casual for someone trying to be subtle about it, spinning his pen between two fingers instead of using it. "Your other students. Do they get this, too?"

"Get what?" Your face and voice conveyed confusion, but you knew exactly what he meant.

"This." He gestured between you, slow, deliberate, like he already knew the answer and just wanted to hear you say it. "The banter. The constant teasing. How observant you are of every little detail about me."

"That's a very specific thing to accuse me of." You maintained eye contact, believing it was exactly what he wanted from you. 

"Is it wrong?"

"Why does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't. I'm just curious." He wasn't backing down, still watching you with that same deliberate patience, like he had all the time in the world for you to answer. "So. Do they?"

"No." You held his eyes when you said it, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away first. "Everyone else just writes down what I say and follows my directions. You're the only one who argues back."

"So I'm special." His smile couldn’t get any wider.

"You're a pain in my ass, is what you are."

"That wasn't a no."

You scoffed at that, and he knew it, watching you with the particular arrogance of a man who'd gotten exactly the answer he wanted the entire time. "It also wasn't a yes."

"You're smiling."

"I'm not."

"You are. Very small. Very poorly hidden." He leaned back, pleased with himself in a way that should’ve been unbearable and somehow wasn't. "For the record, I like being the only one."

You went back to the lesson after that, or tried to. Still, you kept catching it, the thing you'd apparently been noticing without quite naming it until now: how he squared his shoulders every time you corrected him, like the mistake itself was a personal failure rather than just a wrong verb ending, how he'd repeat a corrected phrase three or four times under his breath until it was flawless, not satisfied until it was. How rattled he'd looked, days ago, defeated over not being able to form a complete sentence in a language he did not know— not embarrassed exactly, more like a man encountering a gap in himself he hadn't accounted for.

That was something worth asking about. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends what it is." He kept writing things down in his notebook. You assumed he was correcting another of his mistakes.

"Why are you so bad at accepting help?" You said it lightly, half a joke, expecting a joke back, but he actually seemed to consider it, setting his pen down instead of deflecting.

"I don't know. I'm good at things I've already decided to be good at. I don't really do the part where I'm bad at something in front of someone." He reached for his cup, not quite meeting your eyes. "This is a lot of being bad at something. In front of someone."

"You're not bad at it." And you truly meant it. He was one hundred percent more invested than any other student you’ve taught.

"I was barely able to say a simple sentence two weeks ago." Jeongguk raised his eyebrows, perceiving your words as ironic.

"And now you're arguing with me about verb tenses like it's a personal insult. That's basically fluent."

"Very generous benchmark." He shrugged.

"I'm a generous person." You weren't, particularly, not with anyone else, and you both seemed to spot that fact at the same time. He didn't have a good answer for that, covering the silence by pretending to be very focused on his verb chart, jaw doing something complicated that wasn't actually about grammar at all. You decided to interrupt whatever he was doing. "You're stalling."

"I'm concentrating."

"You've been staring at 'poder' for two minutes. It's not that deep."

"It's a philosophically rich verb."

"It means 'can,’ Jeongguk."

"Exactly. Can I, can I not— very existential." He was grinning when he looked up, clearly pleased with himself, and you threw your pen cap at him for it. He caught it with a look of pride in his eyes.

"Teach me something useful," he said, halfway through his second cup, spinning the pen cap between his fingers like a trophy. "Not textbook stuff. Something people actually say."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Flirting.” Your eyes slightly widened at his request. “Isn't that useful? I'm moving to a city full of people I don't know how to talk to."

"And this is a professional request, right?"

"Extremely professional."

"Uh huh." You raised an eyebrow, but there was something under his tone — half joke, half something else entirely — that made you set your pen down instead of picking up the textbook again. Two could play at this game. "Fine. Repeat after me.” You looked him dead in the eye and said, with perfect, theatrical seriousness: “¿Tienes un mapa? Porque me perdí en tus ojos."

He repeated it, slow and careful, actually trying to get the pronunciation right before he asked, "What does that even mean?"

"'Do you have a map? Because I got lost in your eyes.'"

There was a beat of silence, and then he put his face in his hands. "That's the worst thing I've ever said in any language."

"It's a classic."

"It's criminal. Have you used it before?"

"Nope, it's objectively one of the worst pickup lines in existence, which is exactly why I'm teaching it to you."

"So you're setting me up to fail."

"I'm setting you up to make someone laugh so hard they fall for you. There's a strategy here." As the words came out of your mouth, you knew they sounded insincere. For some reason, the thought of Jeongguk flirting with a random girl annoyed you.

"A strategy," he repeated, deadpan, and then broke, laughing for real, dragging a hand down his face like he couldn't believe he'd actually said it out loud. You were laughing too, at the sheer commitment he'd put into something so deeply stupid, and for a second, neither of you managed to stop. "Okay," he said, once he'd recovered, still grinning. "Give me a real one. Something I could actually use."

You considered him for a second. Flushed from laughing, pen cap in his hand, looking at you like you were the only thing worth paying attention to in the room, and the next phrase came out quieter than you meant it to.

"Me encantas."

"What's that one?"

"It means I’m into you. I’m crazy about you, actually." You said it lightly, like it was still part of the lesson, but something in your voice gave you away, and you watched him catch it.

"Say it again." Something in him shifted; his eyes became even darker as he moved closer to you.

"Jeongguk—"

"Say it again."

You did, slower this time, without the joke to hide behind.

“Me encantas.” He repeated it back to you like he meant it, because he did, you both did. 

The words were the same, but the delivery was different—quieter, more deliberate, aimed at you rather than at a hypothetical stranger at a bar in Barcelona. Jeongguk felt the difference in his spine, a warm pressure spreading downward. The pen cap he'd been spinning clattered to the table, forgotten, as your faces came closer.

Jeongguk closed the gap between you by kissing your lips like a starved man. One of his hands held the back of your neck, attempting to bring you even closer, as if that was possible. His tongue explored yours relentlessly, bringing out breathless moans from you. Jeongguk felt blessed to hear you fall apart thanks to him. You felt his lip ring against your bottom lip when he bit it. It made you lose your composure. Your hands approached him, tugging his hair and pulling him away from you to take a breath. Although you were both breathing heavily, Jeongguk was far from done. He pecked your face, trailing kisses along your cheek and down your neck, where he stayed and left a few wet kisses.

“That feels so fucking good, Jeongguk.” You pushed your legs together and began grinding the seat, the sensation in your core intensified by Jeongguk’s neck kisses and grunts near your ear.

“Cursing, teach? That’s unacceptable.” He teased you, but you could only worry about how empty you felt without his lips on your skin. You were blinded by the pleasure you felt; you could barely discern what was appropriate from what wasn’t.

You sat on his lap, your legs straddling his, and he instinctively held onto your hips, smiling at how desperate you looked already. “What can I say? I think you bring out a different side in me that no other student sees.” He smiled, lips redder and lip ring shinier than before, and the increasing pulse in your crotch became painful. This time, you kissed him. Your hands found his hair again, and you loved how soft it was. 

Jeongguk didn’t think having you on top of him was enough. His fingers explored every inch of you they could reach. He rubbed your back, your exposed thighs, until he reached your ass and lingered there, holding onto both cheeks and taking control of you, forcing you to grind against him. You could feel how hard he was getting, and the pleasure created by the friction between your bodies was overwhelming. 

“Eres hermosa,” Jeongguk whispered as your lips abandoned his. You are beautiful.

You stared at him, impressed. You hadn’t taught him that; he’d done his homework. Those words reached a deep point inside you. Your head fell back, and your hips moved faster, the feeling of his hardened cock even more intense against your clothed clit. Jeongguk felt on top of the world, knowing that he had this effect on you. His lips found your neck once more, bridging the distance between you while his hips matched the rhythm of yours.

Before you could completely surrender yourself to the wave of pleasure that washed over you, the grating sound of a phone notification disrupted your rhythm, bringing you back to reality when you almost felt as if you were floating. You and Jeongguk shared a look, welcoming an awkward tension that was not there before. Behind you and towards the dining table, you realized it was your phone that cockblocked you. Reaching for it, your best friend’s name flashed on the screen. 

“Fuck, I completely forgot about it.” Still straddling Jeongguk, you covered your face in embarrassment. You made plans with her a while ago, way before Jeongguk was a regular part of your schedule. If only you were as organized as he was, you would have realized that you double-booked yourself. 

"Everything okay?" His hands were still resting at your waist, not pulling away, not pushing either, just steady, like he was giving you room to think without making you feel like you had to move yet. He didn’t want you to move away. His voice had dropped back into something calmer than it had been minutes ago, though his chest was still rising at the same speed it had been the past few minutes.

"I have to go. My friend, she’s waiting for me. I lost track of time, no— I forgot that I was supposed to meet her today." You sounded anxious.

"Don't." He interrupted you before you'd even finished getting up, quiet, almost surprised at himself for saying it at all. He didn't let go of your waist right away, thumb still resting against your hip like he wasn't ready to stop touching you yet. "Not yet. Just— give me a second before you go."

You stilled, half off his lap, caught by the shift in his voice. "Jeongguk—"

"I keep a color-coded calendar because if I don't plan something, it doesn't happen. That's not a joke, that's just how I've lived for the past few years. I decide what I want, I build a system for getting it, I execute." He wasn't looking at you now, focused instead on some point over your shoulder, as if it was easier to speak if he wasn't looking directly at you. "I didn't plan for this. These feelings. I don't know what to do with something I didn't see coming."

Now he did look at you, and whatever composure he'd been holding onto slipped the rest of the way. "I've had a mistake log for our lessons because I hate not knowing how to do something in front of you. That's how much I dislike disappointing you. And now you're about to walk out that door, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with how much I don't want you to."

You hadn't expected that. The specificity of it, no metaphor to hide behind, just him handing you the actual, unflattering shape of what he'd been carrying around this whole time. Something in your chest gave way at the honesty of it, some last piece of the distance you'd been keeping without quite admitting you were keeping it.

"I rescheduled a client for you last week." You said it like a confession, too. Quiet, meeting his gaze. You hadn’t noticed he was clenching his jaw until now.  "Someone whom I’ve been teaching every single week for a year. I told him I had a conflict… I just wanted to see you sooner."

"You didn't tell me that."

"I wasn't going to. It's not exactly professional." A short, unsteady laugh, nothing like your usual sharpness. "I just didn't want to go a whole week without seeing you, and I didn't know what to do with that, so I lied to a client instead of admitting it."

He didn't say anything right away. Just reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, slow, like he wanted an excuse to keep touching you a second longer.

"Good," he said finally, quietly. "I'm glad it wasn't just me."

Neither of you said anything after that; nothing was left that felt safe to say out loud. So you did the only thing that felt true instead: you kissed him again, slow, nothing like the urgency from an hour ago, just the quiet certainty that you weren't done with this, with him. Not even close, even if you weren't ready to admit how not close yet. When you finally pulled back, his forehead stayed pressed to yours for a second longer, like neither of you wanted to be the one to end it.

"Go," he murmured, though he didn't let go of your hand until the very last second. "Before I actually get on my knees and start begging you to stay."

You didn't remember the walk to your car. You remembered the door closing behind you, and the cold air hitting your face, and standing there for a full minute before your legs remembered how to move. Something in you needed a second to catch up with what had just happened before it would let you drive.

Two days passed before your next lesson, and they passed strangely. The kind of strange where every hour felt both too long and somehow already over before you'd noticed it happening. You went out with your best friend that night as you'd promised, sat across from her at the same bar you always went to, and heard maybe half of what she said. She was mid-story about a coworker's disastrous drama, and you were nodding at what you hoped were the right moments while your phone sat face-up on the table between you, screen dark, willfully unread.

"You're doing the thing," she said, snapping her fingers in front of your face.

"What thing?"

"The thing where you're here, but you're not here." She narrowed her eyes at you over her drink. "You've checked that phone four times in the last ten minutes, and it hasn't even buzzed."

"I have not."

"You have. Who is he?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She didn't push it, which was somehow worse, because it meant she already knew there was someone, and was simply choosing to let you sit in the discomfort of being caught. You picked up your phone under the pretense of checking the time and found nothing waiting for you. No message, no missed call, nothing. You put it back down, feeling unreasonably disappointed by the absence of something you hadn't even told him to send.

You weren't usually like this. You'd always been the easy-breezy one, the friend who didn't lose sleep over a guy, who could go months without thinking twice about someone she'd kissed once and moved on from without much ceremony. Whatever this was, this counting down the two days until your next lesson like it was a deadline instead of a Tuesday, was new and a little embarrassing. You weren't sure yet whether you minded.

You mostly failed at that. You caught yourself rereading his one text from that night things got heated — made it home safe? sent a couple of hours after you'd left, casual on the surface, nothing underneath it you could point to and call proof of anything. You caught yourself, twice, standing in front of your closet trying to decide what to wear to your next lesson, before catching your own reflection in the mirror and feeling genuinely ridiculous about it. You'd worn the same three sweaters to previous lessons without a second thought, and now, apparently, that no longer applied. 

By the time the second day rolled into evening, you'd stopped pretending to yourself that the anticipation was about anything other than him.

He opened the door differently this time. No pressed shirt, no perfectly squared-off notebook waiting on the table, none of the rehearsed composure he usually greeted you with, the kind that made him look like he was walking into a client meeting rather than a Spanish lesson. Just him, in a soft gray t-shirt instead of his usual monochromatic uniform, hair slightly less deliberate than usual, lip ring catching the hallway light when he tilted his head. He looked, unmistakably, like he'd spent the last two days thinking about the same thing you had and hadn't landed on what to do with it either.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

Neither of you moved for a second. The air between you was thick with everything that hadn't been finished, everything that had been sitting, unresolved, for two days that had felt considerably longer than two days. Two days of half-read texts and half-worn outfits and half-listened-to best friends, and you suspected, watching the careful way he was holding himself in the doorway, that his version of the last two days hadn't looked all that different from yours.

"I didn't set anything up," he said finally, glancing back over his shoulder at the bare kitchen table. No cards, no notebook. "Didn't see the point in it."

"No flashcards? No mistake log?"

"I've been distracted." His voice had dropped, quieter than the joke deserved, and there was nothing careful about the way he was looking at you now. None of the calculated thoroughness he brought to everything else in his life, the thoroughness you'd watched him wear like armor since the day you met him. "You have that effect on me, apparently. Turns out it's hard to plan a grammar lesson when you can't stop thinking about the last one."

"That's very unlike you. Being unprepared."

"I know." He didn't sound bothered by it. If anything, he sounded almost relieved, as if being unprepared for once, in front of you specifically, was closer to a relief than a failure. "I figured we both already know where we left off."

"Do we?"

"I think so." He stepped back to let you in, close enough as you passed him that you felt the warmth of him even without touching, and something about the restraint of it made the two days of waiting feel almost unbearable. Both of you very deliberately did not close that last inch, not yet. 

The door clicked shut behind you, and the sound of it—that small, final latch—sent something electric down your spine. Neither of you moved for a breath. The air in his apartment felt different tonight, charged with everything that had been simmering since you walked out two days ago with his taste still on your lips.

"Two days is a long time," he said, voice low, not quite steady.

"You have no idea."

"I think I do." Jeongguk reached for you, fingers sliding along your jaw, tipping your face up toward his. The pad of his thumb traced your bottom lip, slow, almost reverent, like he was memorizing the shape of it. "I kept thinking about how you sound when I kiss your neck. Couldn't focus on a single fucking thing at work."

His voice dropped lower, rougher, as his thumb slid down to your chin, tilting your head just enough to expose the column of your throat. "I kept replaying that little noise you made, the one right before you pulled me back in. The one that told me you didn't actually want to leave." You felt the heat of his breath against your skin before his lips followed, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the spot just below your ear. "I sat through a three-hour meeting with the Barcelona team, and all I could think about was this." His teeth grazed your pulse point, featherlight, deliberate. "The way you feel in my hands. How you said my name like it meant something."

His hand slid from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. "I don't get distracted. I don't let myself get distracted. But you—" He exhaled against your skin, a sound that was half laugh, half surrender. "You're in my head. All the time.” His lips brushed your earlobe, his voice a low rasp.

"Show me what you were thinking about."

The words left your mouth before you'd fully decided to say them, and you watched the effect they had on him in real time—the way his pupils blew wide, the way his breath caught and held for half a beat too long. His thumb, still resting on your hip, pressed harder, a reflexive response he probably didn't even notice.

"I was thinking about this," he said, voice rough, and his hand slid from your hip down to the inside of your thigh, fingers tracing the seam of your jeans with deliberate slowness. "About how you felt in my lap. About the way your hips moved when I kissed your neck." His fingers curled, pressing against you through the denim, not quite touching where you wanted him most. "I was thinking about how you taste. I kept wondering if it would be as good as I remembered, or if I'd built it up in my head." His hand moved higher, cupping you through your jeans, palm applying just enough pressure to make your breath stutter. "And then I spent the rest of the night wondering if I'd ever get to find out."

"You're finding out now."

"Barely." He pressed harder, and you felt it everywhere, a dull, aching pulse that made you rock into his hand. "I want more. I want to memorize every sound you make, every way your body moves when I touch you."

His fingers found the button of your jeans, flicking it open with practiced ease, the zipper lowering with a sound that seemed too loud in the quiet of the room. "I thought about this part too." He slid his hand inside, palm flat against your underwear, the heat of him searing through the thin cotton. "About getting you out of these clothes and taking my time." His fingers traced the edge of your panties, teasing, never quite slipping beneath. "About how you'd look spread out on my bed, telling me exactly where to touch you."

"I can show you instead."

"No." His voice was firm, but there was a tremor underneath it. "Quiero oírte." I want to hear you. He shifted his weight, pressing his hips harder against yours as he closed the space between your body and the nearest wall, so you could feel exactly how much control this was costing him. "I don’t want you to hold back when I make you cum." He brought his mouth to your ear, breath hot and uneven. His teeth grazed your earlobe before he pulled back just enough to look at you, dark eyes searching yours. "That’ll be today’s lesson. I want to practice my Spanish while I make you feel good. I've been repeating phrases in my head all day, trying to figure out how to say the things I want to do to you. Now I want to see how you fall apart when I say them to you.”

The challenge in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He was trembling with the effort of holding back, but he was waiting, giving you space to meet him there, to play his game. His thumb traced your hip bone in slow, patient circles, and the corner of his mouth lifted when he saw the answer forming on your lips.

His mouth found yours before the words came out, hungry and impatient in a way that made your knees weaken. You could taste the lingering notes of the coffee he'd been drinking while he waited for you, bitter and warm and so distinctly him that your fingers curled into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.

"Bedroom," you managed against his lips. "Ahora." Now.

He carried you through the apartment with a confidence that hadn't been there two weeks ago, each step deliberate, like he'd memorized the distance between the door and his bedroom and knew exactly how many seconds he had left to savor the weight of you in his arms. His grip tightened as he shouldered the bedroom door open, and the look he gave you—dark, hungry, certain—made your breath catch in your throat.

Jeongguk carefully laid you in his bed, and you pulled him down with you. He caught himself on his forearms, caging you beneath him, and for a moment he just looked at you—really looked, the way he'd been doing since the first lesson, like you were a problem he was determined to solve.

"Say something else," you said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. His skin was warm, slightly rough with the shadow of stubble he'd missed shaving. "En español." In Spanish.

"Eres lo más bonito que he visto." His voice had gone rough, the words deliberate and careful. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Good pronunciation." You deflected, pretending that his words didn’t form knots in your stomach.

"I have a good teacher." His hips pressed into yours, and you felt exactly how much he meant it. "Now you. Tell me something. Anything."

"Quiero sentirte dentro de mí." I want to feel you inside me. Your eyes never left his.

The sound of pure ecstasy he made vibrated against your throat as his mouth found your neck again. His hips rolled against yours, slow and deliberate, and the friction of denim against denim was nowhere near enough.

"Otra vez," he breathed against your skin. Again.

"Quiero sentirte dentro de mí."

“Fuck.” His hands slipped under your sweater, palms sliding up your stomach, your ribs, stopping just below your breasts. "I've thought about this. About you. About the sounds you'd make when I finally got my hands on you."

"Show me."

He sat back on his heels, pulling you up with him just enough to work your sweater over your head. His fingers traced the edge of your bra, following the line of lace with the same careful attention he'd given his verb charts. "You're shaking. Good." He unhooked your bra with one hand, practiced, confident, and let it fall away. You made a mental note to ask about that particular skill later. "I want you to remember this. Every second of it. I want you to think about it the next time you're supposed to be teaching me and can't focus because all you can remember is how my mouth felt on your skin."

He lowered his head, lips closing around one nipple, and your back arched off the mattress. His tongue worked in slow circles, the metal of his lip ring cool against the sensitive skin, and when his teeth grazed the peak, a sound escaped your throat that you didn't recognize.

"Like that. Make that sound again." He murmured against your breast.

He moved to the other nipple, giving it the same attention, and this time, when you moaned, his hips bucked against the mattress. His free hand slid down your stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of your open jeans, and when they found the wetness already soaking through your panties, he swore under his breath in a language you hadn't taught him.

"You’re this wet from just my mouth on your neck?" His fingers traced the outline of you through the damp cotton, teasing, never quite pressing where you needed him. "Or did you think about this last night, too? Did you touch yourself thinking about what I'd do to you?"

"No." You reached for him, fingers hooking into his belt loops, pulling his hips back down against yours. "I wanted to wait for you."

"Fuck." The word came out almost pained. Capturing your mouth again, he kissed you deep and desperately while his fingers finally pushed your panties aside and found you bare and slick and ready. "All this for me?"

"Solo para ti." Only for you.

One finger slid inside you, then two, and your hips rose to meet him without conscious thought. He moved them slowly, deliberately, watching your face with the focus he usually reserved for his mistake log.

"Look at me," he said, and when your eyes met his, he curled his fingers forward, finding the spot that made your vision blur. 

"There. Don't stop."

"Wasn't planning to." His thumb found your clit, drawing tight circles that matched the rhythm of his fingers, and the dual sensation sent you hurtling toward the edge faster than you'd ever gotten there with anyone else. Your hands fisted in his sheets, your hips moving against his hand in a rhythm you couldn't control.

"Jeongguk—"

"I know." His voice was raw. "I can feel it."

When the trembling finally subsided, he withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth without breaking eye contact. He licked them clean, one by one, and the sight of it sent another pulse of heat through your already oversensitive body.

"Sabes mejor de lo que imaginaba." You taste better than I imagined.

"Your Spanish is getting better."

"I had motivation to practice." He lowered himself over you again, and this time, you felt the full length of him pressed against your thigh, still trapped behind his jeans. "But I'm not done yet. There's a phrase I need to try."

"What phrase?"

He didn't answer with words. His mouth found the hollow of your throat instead, then lower—collarbone, sternum, the soft curve of your belly. Each kiss came slower than the last, deliberate and unhurried, as he'd already calculated exactly how long he wanted to spend on every inch of skin between your neck and where he was headed.

"Jeongguk." Your voice came out thinner than you meant it to. "You said there was a phrase."

"There is." His breath fanned hot against your navel. "But I want to earn it first."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down past your hips, your thighs, your ankles. Your panties followed. The cool air hit your bare skin, and you shivered. Not from cold, but from the way he was looking at you. That same careful, cataloging attention he'd given his vocabulary lists. Only now the subject was you, spread out beneath him, still trembling from what his fingers had done minutes ago.

"You're staring."

"I'm learning." He settled between your thighs, his shoulders pushing them apart, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of your knee. "Every part of you. Every reaction. I want to know what gets you to make that sound again."

His lips brushed the crease where thigh met hip. Not a kiss—barely a suggestion of one. Your hips jerked toward his mouth without permission.

"Just like that." His words hummed against your skin, sending shivers throughout your body.

"What are you learning exactly?"

"How you taste." His tongue traced a line along your inner thigh, stopping just short of where you needed him. "How you respond to pressure. How long I can tease you before you start begging me."

“I won’t beg.”

"Not yet." He said it with absolute certainty, the same tone he'd used when he'd insisted he'd master the subjunctive before his flight to Barcelona. Then his mouth moved higher, and higher still, until his breath was right there—warm and wet and maddeningly close—and then he stopped. "The phrase," his lips brushing against you as he spoke. "I looked this one up. Wanted to get it right."

"Tell me."

"Quiero saborear cada parte de ti." I want to taste every part of you.

"That's—"

His tongue flattened against your clit before you could finish the sentence.

The sound that came out of you wasn't a word. It wasn't even close. Your hand flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, and he groaned against you like he'd been waiting for exactly that reaction. The vibration traveled straight through you, sparking along nerves still raw from your first orgasm.

"Where did you learn that one?"

"I've been doing my homework." His tongue dipped lower, tracing your opening, and your grip on his hair tightened. "Dulce." Sweet. He licked again, slower. "Suave." Soft. A third time, deeper, his lip ring cold against your heat. "Mojada." Wet. "Dime cómo se dice." Tell me how to say it. He lifted his head, chin glistening, dark eyes finding yours across the plane of your stomach. "I want to describe you. Every taste. But I need the vocabulary."

Your breath caught. He was serious. Beneath the hunger, beneath the way his hands gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise, he was still your student—still that same meticulous man who learned languages by memorizing patterns until they became instinct.

"Dulce," you managed. "You said dulce already. Sweet."

"Dulce." He lowered his mouth again, tongue working in slow circles. "What else?"

“Salado. Salty.” Talking became harder, your words coming out between gasps.

"Salado." He tasted you again, lapping at the slick gathering between your thighs. "Both. Dulce y salado. Like caramel with sea salt."

"Poetic."

"I've been reading Spanish poetry." His tongue circled your clit, slow and precise, and the deliberate pressure made your back arch off the mattress. "The Romantics. Bécquer. Neruda. I wanted to know how to talk about you without sounding like a textbook."

"Most students just learn how to order coffee."

"I thought you knew I’m not like most students."

His mouth sealed around your clit and sucked, hard, and coherent thought dissolved. The room narrowed to the hot slide of his tongue, the wet sounds he was making, the steady pressure of his hands holding your thighs open. He worked you with the same relentless focus he'd brought to verb conjugations. Patient, methodical, adjusting his approach based on your reactions.

"Amargo," you gasped, when he slowed down to kitten licks. “Bitter.”

"Where?" He sounded genuinely curious, pausing mid-lick.

"The edge. When I'm close, it tastes different. Sharper."

"Enséñame." Show me. His voice had gone rough. "Let me taste the difference."

Two fingers slid inside you, curling forward against that spot he'd found minutes ago, and his mouth returned to your clit with renewed intensity. The dual rhythm—fingers pressing, tongue circling—built something seismic in your lower belly, a pressure that made your thighs shake against his shoulders.

"More," you heard yourself say. "Ahí, justo ahí." There, right there.

He repeated the motion exactly, the same pressure, the same angle, his tongue working you in tight spirals. His eyes were glued to yours, seeking your approval.

"Sí. No pares." Don't stop.

"No voy a parar." His words vibrated against you. I'm not going to stop. "I need you to cum in my mouth." 

The command undid you. That, or the way his fingers pressed deeper, or the way his lip ring caught against your clit with every stroke of his tongue. It didn't matter. The orgasm crashed through you in pulses, each one wrenched out by the steady rhythm of his mouth, and he didn't stop—didn't slow down, didn't pull back—just kept licking and sucking and groaning against you like he was the one falling apart.

"Amargo," he breathed, pulling back only when your hips stopped bucking. His lips were swollen, his chin wet, his eyes nearly black with want. "You were right. Sharper. More intense." He licked his lips. "I like it."

"Come here." Your arms reached for him, shaking as you still felt your heartbeat in your throat.

He crawled up your body, and you tasted yourself on his tongue when he kissed you. Dulce, salado, amargo, all of it mixed. His length pressed against your thigh, still trapped behind denim, and you felt the damp spot where he'd been leaking through the fabric.

"Your turn," you said, reaching for his belt. "Quiero enseñarte otra cosa." I want to teach you something else.

His breath hitched. "What?"

"How you sound when you let go. En cualquier idioma." In any language. Your fingers worked his belt open. "Whatever comes out."

"Prometo que voy a estudiar," I promise I'll study. His hips jerked into your hand as you freed him, hot and thick and already slick at the tip. "Every word. Every sound. I'll write it all down in my mistake log."

"Don't." You guided him between your thighs, lining him up where you were still wet and open from his mouth. "Some things you don't correct."

His breath caught when you guided him against you, the head of his cock pressing into wet heat. For a moment, he just stayed there, forehead dropping to yours, lips parted around a word that wouldn't come.

“Wait.” He pulled back, and the loss of contact made you whimper before you could stop yourself. "Condom. I need—"

"No."

His jaw tightened. The lip ring caught the lamplight as he processed the word, turned it over, and examined it from every angle like one of his vocabulary lists.

"No?" Confusion flickered across his face, then something hungrier. "But—"

"Quiero sentirte." I want to feel you. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck, pulling him down until his mouth hovered inches from yours. "All of you. Nothing between us."

He swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything." Your thumb traced the sharp edge of his jaw. "I'm on birth control. And I haven't been with anyone in months. You?"

"Not since before the promotion." His voice had gone hoarse. "Not since I started wanting you." He said it plainly, like a fact he'd stopped trying to argue with, and the simplicity of it hit harder than any elaborate confession could have.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

He searched your face for any change in your expression, that careful scanning look, like he was checking for any sign of hesitation. Whatever he found must have satisfied him because he exhaled and something in him shifted. Surrender. Relief. The particular recklessness of a man who'd spent his life planning everything and was finally letting himself want something unplanned.

"You're going to ruin me." He said it like a fact, as if he'd already accepted the outcome. "I'm going to feel you, and I'm never going to be able to think about anything else."

"Good."

He pushed inside you in one slow stroke.

The stretch stole your breath. No barrier, just him, hot and bare and somehow more than you'd imagined despite spending weeks imagining exactly this. Your nails bit into his shoulders through his t-shirt, and he groaned, a sound dragged from somewhere deep in his chest.

"Fuck." He stilled, buried to the hilt, every muscle in his body trembling with the effort of holding back. He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing ragged, voice frayed at the edges. "Tell me what you want me to do to you now that I'm inside you. I want to hear you say the dirty things you're thinking while you can feel exactly how much I want you."

You felt him pulse inside you, a reminder that he was still holding on by a thread, and the power of that, the control you had over a man who controlled everything, sent a fresh wave of heat through your already oversensitized body. Your hips rolled experimentally, just a fraction of an inch, and the sound he made in response was worth more than any confession.

"You want to hear me talk?" Your voice came out lower than you intended, rougher. "Fine. I want you to move. Slow at first. I want to feel every inch of you dragging against me while I watch your face. I want to see the exact moment you stop thinking about Barcelona and start thinking about nothing except how good I feel."

His breath stuttered. His hips twitched, a reflexive forward press that made you both gasp, and you smiled against his mouth.

"I want you to learn a new word tonight. Despacio. Slow. Because I'm going to make you take your time. I'm going to make you feel every second of this, every heartbeat, every breath, until you can't remember what it felt like to want me from a distance."

Jeongguk's hands found your hips, grip tightening like he needed something to anchor himself. "That's—" He swallowed hard. "That's a lot of instructions."

"You asked for them." Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently at the roots. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No." The word came out desperate, immediate, and he seemed to realize how much he'd given away because he pressed his forehead to yours again, hiding. "No. Keep going. Please."

"Then here's your next lesson." You shifted beneath him, adjusting the angle just slightly, and the way his eyes rolled back was its own reward. "When I tell you así,” Like this, “you don't change a thing. You keep the same rhythm, the same depth, the same pressure. You let me feel exactly what you're giving me until I tell you otherwise."

His nod was jerky, barely controlled.

You tightened around him deliberately, watching his pupils blow wide. "Now show me how well you follow instructions."

He shuddered at the command, his hips stuttering as if your words alone could break his rhythm. But Jeongguk was nothing if not disciplined. Even now, even with his cock buried bare inside you and his mind swimming in the haze of desire, he found the control to slow down. His next thrust was measured, deliberate, the kind of precise movement that spoke of a man who had spent his life learning to obey instructions perfectly.

The slow drag of him against your walls was almost unbearable. Somehow too much and not enough all at once. Every nerve ending was alight, hyperaware of every inch of him, every ridge and pulse. He was watching you with an intensity that bordered on reverence, memorizing every micro-expression that crossed your face, learning what made you gasp versus what made you moan.

"Sí," you managed, the word coming out as a breathless sigh. "Just like that. No faster. No deeper. Just—" Your voice caught as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "—así."

He repeated the same stroke, same angle, same depth, and the precision of it, the way he'd already learned what you liked, sent a shiver through you that had nothing to do with temperature. His thumb, still resting against your clit, began to move in matching circles, slow and steady, synced to the rhythm of his hips.

"You're so wet," he observed, his voice carrying a note of wonder. "I can feel it. Every time I push in, there's more. Is that because of me? Because of what I'm doing?"

"Don't fish for compliments while you're inside me."

A smug smile crossed his face, but he didn't stop. Didn't speed up. Didn't change a thing. Just kept that maddening, perfect rhythm, dragging moans from your throat with every slow, deliberate stroke. His free hand found yours, fingers intertwining, pinning your palm to the mattress beside your head.

"Tell me if I'm doing it right." The vulnerability in his voice cut through the stillness of pleasure. "I need to know. I need to hear you say it."

"You're—fuck, Jeongguk—you're doing it right." The words came out broken, punctuated by a gasp as he hit that spot again. "Don’t change anything. Así."

He groaned at the Spanish, at the confirmation that he was following your instructions correctly. His hips maintained their rhythm, but his thumb pressed harder, circles growing tighter, and you could feel the trembling in his thighs. The effort it took for him to hold back, to stay controlled, to give you exactly what you'd asked for, even as every fiber of his being wanted to take more.

"You’re so obedient. I love it," you whispered, and the sound he made in response—a desperate, wrecked noise that seemed to come from somewhere primal—told you everything you needed to know about how much those words affected him. Being under your spell, completely surrendered inside you.

His hips jerked involuntarily, a short, sharp thrust that made you both gasp. "Don't." Another slow thrust, deeper this time, his lip ring glinting as he smiled. "Don't tease me right now. I'm barely holding on."

He maintained that pace: long, deep strokes that filled you, the drag of him bare against your walls sending sparks up your spine with every movement. No rush. No urgency. Just the steady rhythm of his hips and the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

"Eres perfecta." The words fell from his lips like he'd been holding them in for weeks. You're perfect. "Perfecta. Tan apretada. Tan caliente." So tight. So hot.

"Harder." Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him deeper. But instead of speaking, you arched into him, a wordless demand. His answer was a low growl against your throat as his hips snapped forward, harder this time, stealing the breath from your lungs. The slightly slow, measured pace shattered; he drove into you with a desperation that rattled the headboard against the wall, each thrust a conversation you no longer needed words for. His mouth found yours, swallowing every broken sound you made as he took what you'd offered, and gave back twice as much.

His thrusts faltered, rhythm slipping as he lost himself in the sensation. You watched it happen, watched the careful composure crack further with every stroke, watched his eyes go dark and unfocused, watched his mouth shape words he couldn't quite voice. His teeth grazed your pulse point, and the sharpness of it, pleasure edged with just enough pain, made your inner walls clench around him. He shuddered, a full-body tremor that you felt everywhere.

He lifted his head, eyes finding yours. "Do that again."

"What?"

"Squeeze me like that again." His thrusts were harder, deeper, hitting a spot that made your vision blur. His rhythm didn't break. If anything, it grew more deliberate, each stroke aimed with the precision of a man who'd spent weeks learning exactly where to find what he was looking for. "Again. Otra vez. I need to feel it again."

The demand in his voice, rough and frayed, sent a fresh pulse of heat through you. You tightened around him deliberately, a slow clench that started at the base and rolled upward, and watched his composure fracture in real time. His jaw went slack. His hips stuttered. A sound escaped him, low and wrecked, that didn't sound like it belonged to the businessman who organized his bookshelf by height.

He let out a sound that was half laugh, half groan, and pulled back just enough to look at you. His pupils had swallowed most of his irises, leaving only a thin ring of dark brown around the black. "You're going to kill me. You know that, right? I'm going to die inside you, and I'm going to thank you for it."

His hips began to move again, slower this time, each thrust a deliberate drag against every sensitive nerve you had. The sensitivity from your previous orgasm made every stroke feel sharper, more electric, like he was relearning your body all over again. His hand slid from your hip to your thigh, hooking your leg higher over his waist, opening you further. The new angle made him hit deeper, and you felt it everywhere. A sharp, maddening hit of pleasure that made your toes curl and your back arch off the mattress.

His voice was low, almost reverent. "Your cunt is still so tight. You’re clenching around me, taking me so well." His thrusts got deeper, letting you feel the fullness of him. "Is that normal? Or is that just—me? Just what I do to you?"

“It’s you. Just with you.” You felt your face getting hotter, feeling exposed not only because you were naked.

A shudder ran through him at your admission, and he pulled out almost entirely before sliding back in with excruciating slowness. The drag of him against your oversensitive walls made you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He watched your face with that same intense focus, taking all of you in.

"Good." He repeated the motion—slow withdrawal, slower reentry—and the deliberate pace was almost more overwhelming than the frantic rhythm from before. "Because I want to remember this. Every detail. The way you look right now. The sounds you make. The way your body welcomes me every time I push back in." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm going to think about this non-stop. When I'm alone. When I'm supposed to be focusing on meetings. I'm going to close my eyes and remember exactly how you feel around me, and I'm not going to be able to think about anything else."

His rhythm shifted, growing slightly faster, the shallow strokes targeting a spot that made your vision blur at the edges. His thumb found your clit again, pressing in tight circles that matched his thrusts, and you could feel another orgasm building; slower this time, deeper, gathering in your core like a wave about to break.

"Así," you moaned, the word barely making it past your lips. "Así. Please don't change a thing."

He didn't. He kept that same rhythm, that same depth, that same relentless pace, his thumb finding your clit in matching circles. And when you clenched around him again—involuntary this time, pulled from you by the sheer overwhelming pleasure of his cock inside you—he groaned your name like a prayer, like he'd been saying it in his head for weeks and was only now allowed to let it out loud.

His pace quickened, the slow, deliberate strokes giving way to something more urgent. The wet sound of him moving inside you, no barrier between your bodies, filled the room alongside your broken moans.

"I’m close." You said, barely a whisper.

He felt it. Of course he did. His cock could feel every shift deep inside you.

His hips snapped forward, a sharper thrust that made you cry out. "Every word. Every sound. Every lesson. I've been taking notes on you since the day we met."

"You’re obsessed."

“Yes." No denial. No deflection. Just the word, hot against your throat, as his rhythm faltered and rebuilt itself. "Estoy obsesionado contigo. Con esto." I’m obsessed with you. With this. "Con la manera en que dices mi nombre." With the way you say my name.

"Jeongguk."

"Así." Like that. His voice had gone ragged. "Otra vez." Again.

"Jeongguk—"

The orgasm hit without warning, ripped out of you by his name on your tongue and his cock buried bare inside you and the relentless pressure of his thumb. Your vision whited out. Your body clenched around him in waves, each pulse drawing a broken sound from his throat. The pleasure crested, ebbed, crested again. When you finally surfaced, he was still buried inside you, still hard, still trembling.

"You didn't—"

"I wanted to feel it." He said it like a confession. "All of it. Every second. The way you—" His voice broke. "I've never felt anything like that. Someone cumming around me. Bare. Like this."

"Cum inside me." You said it for him, watching his eyes go wide and dark. "Déjate ir dentro de mí." Let yourself go inside me.

"Fuck." His composure was completely shattered. No more careful student, no more meticulous planner. Just him, raw and desperate, hips snapping forward in a rhythm that had nothing to do with patience and everything to do with need.

The permission in your voice, quiet, steady, utterly certain, was the final thread holding him together, and it snapped. His hips drove forward once, twice, a third time, each thrust shorter and more desperate than the last, chasing a release he'd been holding at bay since the moment he first touched you.

Your name tore out of him, ragged and broken, as his rhythm shattered entirely. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven against your skin, and you felt the exact moment he lost control. The way his whole body tensed, the way his fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise, the way a drowned whimper came out of him.

He came undone inside you. You felt it in pulses, hot and deep and endless, each wave drawing a shudder from his frame, each pulse pulling a broken sound from his throat. His hips kept moving through it, involuntary now, grinding against you like he couldn't bear to stop, like he needed to feel every last second of this before it ended.

You tightened around him, and he gasped, his whole body jerking as a sharp sting of pleasure rolled through him. His teeth grazed your shoulder, not quite biting, grounding himself against the overwhelming sensation of being so completely undone.

When he finally stilled, he was trembling. Not the fine tremor of exertion, but something deeper. A full-body shake that spoke of a man who had given everything he had and was still trying to find his way back to himself. His breathing was uneven, his face still pressed into the curve of your neck like he couldn't bear to lift his head and face what had just happened.

He stayed there for a long moment, buried inside you, his lips pressed against your pulse point like he was memorizing the rhythm of your heartbeat. When he finally spoke, his voice was wrecked. Hoarse and raw and honest in a way he'd never let himself be before.

"Me encantas." The words came out broken, barely a whisper, pressed into your skin like a secret he'd been carrying too long. "Me encantas tanto que no sé qué hacer." I'm so crazy about you that I don't know what to do.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and there was no armor left. Just him, flushed and spent and vulnerable, his lip ring glinting in the low light as he searched your face for something—reassurance, maybe, or permission to keep feeling what he was feeling.

You opened your mouth to answer him, and nothing came out.

It struck you as almost funny, in some distant part of your brain that was still capable of finding things funny in such a serious moment. You, who'd spent weeks handing him the exact right words for every occasion, who'd built entire lessons out of teaching him how to say the things he couldn't say on his own, and now here you were, wordless, in every language you knew. Nothing in your vocabulary felt big enough. Nothing felt like it wouldn't shrink the second it left your mouth.

So you didn't try. You reached up instead and pressed your palm flat against his chest, right over the place where his heart was still going too fast to be anything but honest, and held it there like you could say it that way instead. Like touch might succeed where every word you knew had just failed you. He went still under your hand, watching you with something that looked almost like relief, like he understood exactly what you were doing and didn't need the words either, not really, not when this was so much louder.

You leaned in and kissed him instead and felt him exhale against your mouth like he'd been holding his breath since the words left him. When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, you found your voice again, small and unsteady and entirely true.

"I don't know what to do with it either," you whispered. Not a lesson. Just the truth, handed back to him in the only language you had left.

His arms tightened around you, and for a long moment neither of you said anything else. Because for the first time since that coffee shop, there was nothing left that needed saying out loud.

This has got to be some sort of joke, like your stars were playing sick-fuckery games with you. You had left the hectic as hell office with the hope of getting a few hours of peace at home so you could work on some very important client files without constant interruptions. 

The place was supposed to be empty, but as you walk into your apartment, you realize that you were about to become the kind of person whose evening was about to be completely derailed by a man in gray sweats. 

More specifically −your man. Kim Seokjin. Mr. World Wide Handsome himself. 

He’s sitting on the sofa with his phone balanced on one knee, glasses slipping down his nose as he scrolls, absorbing whatever it was with utter concentration. The sliver of pink tongue at the corner of his mouth which peeks out that he tends to do when he is focused stops your thoughts momentarily as you halt in the doorway, already feeling your temperature start to rise. 

It was ridiculous how effortlessly he elevated your pulse with the tiniest, most mundane things. Like looking through a phone in plain gray sweats. That sort of image had no right to cause your entire body’s nerves to feel like they were rewiring manically. But this was Kim Seokjin, and WWH made nothing look basic. 

You groan inwardly with the concession of a woman who knows she’s lost the battle even before it had begun. Seokjin looks up, startled, and sees you standing there gawking, open-mouthed, clutching onto an armful of legal documentation. 

“Oh, hey!” he greets, his handsome face breaking out into a soft smile that takes his attractiveness up about ten levels. “−I didn’t even hear you come in. You’re early.”

And you are not meant to be here. 

Whatever happened to the gym session he said he had planned with the guys? Although, on closer inspection, he looks like he’s already been to one judging by the light sheen of sweat that adorns that beautifully sexy forehead. Yeah, Seokjin even had a sexy forehead, something nobody could have ever convinced you was possible until you had met him six months ago and been floored by the sheer magnitude of his undeniable appeal. 

You swallow. “Uh− yeah. I needed somewhere quiet, so I thought I’d bring some work back and−.”

He jumps up from the couch immediately, stuffing his phone into his pocket which only succeeds in diverting your attention to the fit of his sweats. “I got it, I’m sorry,” he says, giving you that sweet-fawn smile with those unbearably cute, ripe strawberry lips. “I’ll give you some space if you wanna work in here.”

“No−!” you call, a little too quickly and loudly, your throat drying by the second, and your eyes refusing to leave his body, mesmerized by the way the material folds and encompasses every inch of his tall, lean frame as he moves. “I mean, you don’t have to go. Just stay.”

God, you were hooked on this man something crazy. 

Seokjin shoots you a look. “You okay?” he ventures, those perfect eyebrows creasing as he stares at you with concern. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you manage, finally tearing your gaze from him. You move forward to deposit your files on the coffee table and sling your purse onto the nearest sofa with a deep sigh. “What happened to your gym session?”

Seokjin grins mischievously. “I managed to get out of it,” he tells you, his eyes lighting up. “Well, not exactly get out of it −but more like I sort of did some exercise here by myself.”

“Oh?” you say. Seokjin wasn’t the most enthusiastic about working out at the best of times, but he usually always got through it and applied himself with commendable dedication. “−Why didn’t you want to do it with the guys?” 

He looks slightly sheepish, and it’s entirely adorable of course. “I, uh −I wanted to surprise you actually,” he tells you. “I was going to cook something nice for dinner, so I planned to do it before you got back. Only−,” he gestures towards you. “−Obviously you’re here now, so it won’t be too much of a surprise.”

The image of him standing over the stove, rustling up something delicious in those sweats suddenly removes your ability to form words and you swear you can feel saliva accumulating in your mouth ready to dribble over the moment your mouth opens. 

You snap out of it, your brain automatically kicking into gear. “Am I missing something?” you ask, suddenly nervous that you might have missed some important date you should have remembered. “If I have, I’m so sorry, work has been nonstop lately I just haven’t been able to−.”

“No, no,” Seokjin interjects, looking miffed at your confusion. “There’s nothing like that. I just wanted to do something special, that’s all. I know you’ve been working hard lately, so I thought I would…” He tuts softly to himself. “I’m sorry, I should have checked with you first instead of assuming. I know you have a lot to do without me throwing surprise dinners at you.”

God, just when you think that you couldn’t love this man any more than you did, he comes out with something like that. You silently give thanks to whatever powers that be had thrown him into your path, because men like him were meant to be myths. 

Your heart squeezes with so much love you are convinced it would burst if he says another word. You look at him standing there, just looking back at you with those innocent brown eyes so sweetly apologetic, and you feel your heart turning into a puddle of goo that matched the way you felt between your legs. This is all you needed, a full Seokjin onslaught. 

“No, baby,” you say. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I was just worried I had forgotten some special date or anniversary or something.”

A smile replaces his pout, and he walks to you, arms outstretched. You brace yourself for what you know you’re going to feel, just before he envelopes you in his arms, bringing you in to his chest in an embrace. Your eyes close as you rest your head on the firmness of his body, breathing in his unmistakable scent. 

Musk from his soap, the light lingering of sweat on his body, the powdery smell of the laundry detergent, and the faint bars of woodsy cologne that still cling to his skin all combine together to create something irresistible. Something you so clearly identified with Seokjin. He smells like long, luxurious lovemaking over satin sheets, mixed with rough, stretching, aching sex, the kind that had no fixed setting, all rolled into one. 

Your hands curl around his narrow waist, desire beginning to brim higher inside you as you feel the sharp indentation of his hips, knowing if your hands travelled just underneath the hem of his sweatshirt, you would be closer to feeling the satin heat of his bare skin. He was driving you crazy already, unknowingly. How were you going to get any work done now, with this gorgeous specimen right here, just built perfectly to satisfy your rapidly rising lust. 

Seokjin places a kiss on the top of your head, before his hands cup your face and raise it upwards so he can look down into your eyes. “You forgot something,” he says, affection in his voice. “−My kiss.”

Oh God. 

He bends his head down, lips hovering above yours as his long fingers curl around your neck, thumbs stroking your jaw. How could you confess that if you started kissing him, maybe you might never stop. Before you can form another thought, he brings his lips to yours, covering them in a soft, sweetly innocent kiss. 

You hum instinctively, the sensations that come alive in you a mix of pleasure and impatience. The kiss is barely more than a short meeting of mouths, but it feels like he’s kissed you head to toe, long and languorously, and left your body tingling all over, weak for him. You slack in his arms. 

“That’s better,” he says with a sugary smile that attacks your weakened knees. “Things don’t feel right if I don’t get one of those from you.”

You force a smile back, although all you can think about is feeling those deliciously plump, rosy lips of his blaze maddening kisses up your thighs, and that soft, wet mouth pressing between your legs as he laps at your cunt, tongue-fucking you to an earth-shattering climax. 

Your walls clenches, and you can already feel your arousal moistening unstoppably own below. You struggle to form a normal thought, not even when you attempt to think of something so unsexual −like the clients you are meant to be preparing the brief for. 

“Let me go shower,” Seokjin says, breaking your thoughts. “−I’m sure I don’t smell the best.”

That’s bullshit, he smells like… sex. Hot, unbridled, raw sex. The kind you were starting to crave right about now. Instinctively, your fingers curl into his sweatshirt, gathering the inviting material against your fingers. You don’t want him to leave −not just yet. 

“What is it, baby?” he asks tenderly, eyes searching yours. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Seokjin was an amazing guy, really he was. But there were times when he really could be absolutely clueless, especially when it came to just how much of an effect he could have on someone. In this case, you. He talked a good game with the whole World-Wide Handsome stuff, but behind the façade, he didn’t seem to be fully convinced he was as hot as the world placed him as. 

Which was correct in a way −he’s far hotter than anyone could possibly imagine. You could vouch for that. You don’t know what you did in your past life to have this man keeping your bed warm, but you could pretty much guarantee it had been astronomic. Seriously, like Joan of Arc level possibly. 

“I’m good,” you say, clearing your throat, your lips still dancing with sensation where his kiss had touched. You raise one hand to your mouth, grazing over the spot, and Seokjin watches you curiously. You shoot him a quick smile, removing your hand instantly. “−It’s just work stuff, you know?” 

Seokjin arches those perfect eyebrows at you. “Okay,” he says, although you can tell from his tone that he isn’t convinced. “I’ll go and shower, give you some time to get yourself set up and do what you need to do. Just let me know when you’re ready to eat.” He holds his hands up. “No pressure. Take your time, I’ll wait.”

Then he pulls away from you, the fabric of his sweatshirt slipping through your fingers as he moves back. Your eyes refuse to leave him as he returns to the sofa to plump up the cushions where he was sitting, before he heads towards the door. 

“You should have changed!” you blurt out in your desperation for him not to go. 

He stops, already hallway out of the room, and turns back to you. “What?” he asks incredulously. 

You run your hands through your hair, flustered. “Your workout gear,” you say hurriedly. “You should have changed before you−.” You falter, feeling ridiculous. 

What the hell was the matter with you anyway? You should just focus on the work you had to do, which is why you came back here in the first place. Even Seokjin is making the effort to take your work seriously, and all you can think about is his cock inside you−

“Y/N,” Seokjin says. He takes off his glasses and folds them slowly, setting them down on a nearby shelf. “−You’re being really weird. Why don’t you just tell me what’s up so we can avoid all this weirdness and do whatever we both need to get done. You have work to do, right, and I would love to change out of this outfit −after a shower. So, spill. What is it?”

You take him in, open mouthed, the full deal −head to toe. His movement is fluid, an easy confidence in his stride as he makes his way towards you. His gray hoodie pulls across his broad shoulders before settling again, the sleeves pushed casually up his forearms, bunching beneath his elbow and revealing strong wrists and the faint outline of veins beneath warm honeyed skin. 

Matching bottoms hang comfortably on his narrow hips, the fabric draping over long, lean thighs that somehow make the path before him feel smaller with every step, before falling in a relaxed, straight line down long legs and tapering neatly at his ankles, stopping just above his house slippers. 

It’s the kind of casual look that is usually put together solely for purpose, ordinary −but on him they become anything but. Kim Seokjin didn’t do normal. 

His dark hair is slightly mussed, like he'd run absent-minded fingers through it one too many times, strands falling across his forehead in a way that's effortless rather than styled. Fresh-faced and make-up free, expensive-looking skin still carrying a faint sheen that catches the light along his temples and the side of his neck. Proof of the workout he hasn't yet washed away. 

You feel an appreciative moan rise up and lodge itself in your throat, and you push it down with all the restraint you can conjure up. 

Seokjin looks utterly divine. 

You start to fully appreciate exactly why every time he was photographed in this fit, the internet went crazy for him. you can’t help it as your eyes fall just in the place where the cloth skims over what Seokjin had been blessed with as it forms a soft but prominent rise in the crotch of his sweatpants. You bring your hands behind your back, fingers entwining as if you physically needed to restrain yourself from reaching out to palm over his alluring bulge. 

Warm, bright eyes survey you with quiet amusement the moment they catch yours, as if he hasn’t completely and unknowingly derailed your ability to form a coherent thought. He stops in front of you, one corner of his mouth lifting. "Are you done checking me out?" he asks, hands sliding into his pockets as his eyes hold yours questioningly. “I thought you wanted me to change out of this?”

You swallow guiltily, heat climbing straight to your cheeks. “Why do you persist in wearing that so often?” you ask exasperatedly, the tightness in your voice betraying how flustered you are. “Surely your sponsors have other clothes you can wear.”

For a second, his usual quick wit abandons him, but then he smiles in that quiet, devastating way that never asks for attention and somehow earns all of it. "Should I have worn formalwear to work out?”

"You could've shown some restraint," you mumble under your breath. 

Fucking Alo had a lot to answer for lately. Like the millions of soaking wet panties putting Seokjin in this outfit had brought on −including yours now. You hadn’t really seen him post-workout in these sweats before, only in photos. You should have kept it that way, because now, really, the prospect of doing any work was a million miles away. 

“Restraint?” he echoes, having clearly heard you. “What are you on about?”  

You point at him as if you're presenting evidence in court. "Oh, come on,” you tell him, “Quit acting all innocent. You go on social media."

He blinks, regarding you. “What is the matter with you today?” he asks, his expression growing stern again. “You are really acting strange, Y/N. Just spit it out, whatever it is that’s got you being like this.” 

Your patience snaps, frustration overtaking you. “You’re distracting me!” you blurt out. “You weren’t meant to be here, I was supposed to come back and finish an urgent brief, but now… now you’re here, and I can’t… I can’t fucking concentrate!” 

Seokjin’s eyebrows lift. “I’m distracting you?” he says blankly, clearly thrown by your outburst. “How? I’m literally leaving the room!” 

“By−,” you start, gesturing vaguely in his direction, “−that!”

He follows your hand to himself. "The hoodie?"

You nod defeatedly. "It’s the entire package,” you tell him. 

You can tell Seokjin doesn't have a reply, he just stares, bewildered, before letting out a slow breath. "That was…,” he says, clearing his throat as a dangerous smirk begins to appear, “−Unexpected."

“Show-off,” you mutter under your breath, but your eyes are traitorously on his outfit again, running down his chest. 

Soft gray cotton, a neckline that sits against his defined collarbone as if it was made to be touched, and lean, taut muscle beneath the fabric that drove you wild. How could you not look? Seokjin’s eyes follow yours instantly, not missing a beat, and he looks back at you questioningly. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” you state accusingly. 

He snorts lightly. “Oh yeah?” he says, taking the smallest step forward, inching nearer to you. “−And what exactly is that, hmm?” 

Your breath catches as his eyes lower, slowly travelling downwards, coming to rest on the prominent rise and fall of your chest. You watch as his expression changes, something registering in his face that sends your pulse skyrocketing. 

“You know what,” you say, your voice strained in the silence as you feel yourself weakening at the sight in front of you. 

Seokjin edges nearer yet. “No, really I don’t,” he says, his eyes fixed on you so intently that you don’t have any ability to hide the tiniest reaction from him. “So why don’t you just tell me what exactly I’m doing to distract you.”

“You’re not helping,” you whisper. 

Why did he have to be so incredibly attractive, so much so that it gave you no chance of a grateful retreat to safety. Away from those plush lips that threatened to wreak havoc on your body with the slightest movement, and those skilled, long fingers that worked you head to toe so expertly, and that body that lay beneath the material of those flattering sweats that you longed to feel pressing against you so sinfully. 

Something in your expression must have given you away because you feel Seokjin’s hand settle at your waist and you still with a small gasp. He’s so tall you have to look up, your heart already hammering in expectation, knees feeling like they couldn’t hold up your body much longer. His eyes pass over your face leisurely, making your skin feel aware of itself and you feel yourself tremble in his arms. 

“Hm,” he murmurs, a flicker of amused satisfaction crossing his expression. “−You’re shaking.”

Seokjin draws you in closer into his space, close enough that the warmth radiating through his clothes feels like it’s settling into your bloodstream, refusing to leave. His fingers flex at your side, barely a stroke, almost absentmindedly, a graze of nothing −yet you feel it everywhere. 

“What is it, baby?” he coaxes gently, his voice deeper, coating you like sweet, rich honey. “Talk to me.”

That does it. Your restraint doesn’t break so much as slip. Your hands come up to catch the front of his sweatshirt before you fully register moving, finding purchase against his chest, the fabric beneath your fingertips soft and maddeningly domestic for something that feels this charged.

His breath changes, and so does yours. “This−” you whisper, almost challenging. “When you do this.”

A faint smile brushes his mouth as he closes his hands behind you at the small of your back. “I think,” he says quietly, “That you like it when I do this.”

Heat floods your face at how easily he says it, how he studies you, watching how you react without looking away, and your breath catches hard. That would be an understatement if ever there was one. You didn’t just like it, you craved it like the air you breathed. The way he touched you, from the tiniest contact to the most intimate invasion, set you alight in ways you had never realized was possible before him. 

Seokjin’s hands slide back to your waist, hovering where your blouse meets your skirt, no ambiguity left. “Am I right?” he asks huskily, but you can see it isn’t really a question. He already knows the answer. 

You stare back at him and see the victory in his eyes. 

From how he’s angled your body to his, you suddenly become aware of the press of something at your stomach. You give a faint, longing whimper. He’s hard, cock pressing through his sweatpants, straining and vying for your attention. Heaven help you. 

Seokjin cups your face with one hand, thumb at your chin, stroking upwards until it reaches your bottom lip. Your parted mouth searches for his digit, your tongue seeking the tip as it enters your mouth, sliding wetly around before enclosing it with your lips, sucking slowly. 

You hear him moan lightly, his eyes darker than before now. God, you want him. Right here, in these sweats, looking like this, you want him inside you. You didn’t care how or where, so long as something of his was in you. Your eyes semi-close, lids heavy with desire as he removes his thumb from your mouth and kisses you. 

The touch of his lips on yours sends your body careering into overdrive, the lust that consumes you spreading fast and wide until there isn’t one inch of you that doesn’t need him like a drug. Your mouth opens beneath his, allowing his tongue to push and slide against yours in a searching, teasing dance, his smooth plump lips caressing and rubbing over yours as your breath breaks against his kiss, ever aware of the hardness of his erection that continues to remind you of its presence jutting against your body. 

You cling to him like a lifeline, crazed with want, your unashamed moans swallowed by Seokjin’s wet, hot mouth. Slowly, you both start to move towards the couch, still engrossed in kissing. Seokjin goes down first, pulling you on top of him as he reaches up to pull out your hairclip, freeing your hair which goes cascading down and over him. He buries his hands into it, tugging softly, kissing intensifying as he gives a low, throaty growl that you feel all the way to your core. 

He pushes your hair back, smiling at you. “So−,” he begins softly, hips rolling gently against you, “—This is what you’re after.”

You look down at him, all flushed, swollen, kiss-stung deep pink lips, dark and hungry eyes on a face that gleams with a thin layer of sweat over his light caramel-tone skin. He is absolutely delectable, sinfully and achingly heavenly. So much so that immediately you reclaim his mouth with a needy kiss, wanting to feel their sweet plushness under yours. His eyes widen in surprise for a second before fluttering closed, kissing you back with depth and urgency. 

You need more as his huge boner presses up at your stomach, digging into you. You place your hands at Seokjin’s shoulders and push back, easing yourself away slightly, biting at your lip mischievously. He looks at you, his breath coming faster, already in anticipation of what might come when your hand trawls down his chest and down to the hem of his sweatshirt. Hooking your fingers beneath it, you reach under the material and encounter the heat of his skin, his washboard abs tensing beneath your touch. 

“Oh God!” you breathe, your arousal heavy, your inner walls already clenching. 

You look down at the protruding bulge that is situated less than an inch from your roving hands, and slowly begin to come down, splaying over Seokjin’s stomach, moving lower until you make connection. You gasp, your mouth watering as you palm over his huge, clothed cock. These fucking sweats would be the death of you. Nobody should look this good in gray fucking sweats. 

“Damn you!” you groan brokenly, “Couldn’t you just wear something else?” 

He moans softly, lifting his hands, one he tucks behind his head as he peers down at you, and the other stretches towards you, easing your hair behind your ear. “Sponsorship, baby,” he drawls lazily. “I’m under contract.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur distractedly, your hand passing over his cock again. 

He hisses inwardly, catching your hand. “Don’t−,” he warns, his sudden authoritativeness turning you on. “Not unless you’re going to do something. You said you have work, right? I’m not clean, I have to shower.”

You shoot him a look, letting the tip of your tongue run over your lip. “Work can wait,” you state, your brain doing a complete one-eighty to deviate from its early mindset. “—And I like the way you look right now,” you tell him, eyes running pointedly down his fit. “Exactly like this.”

It takes him a second for his mind to finally comprehend the appeal, and he blinks in surprise. “You too?” he muses. “Seriously?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm. “I don’t believe you don’t know just what you’re doing to everyone in these clothes.”

“They’re sweatpants!” Seokjin says exasperatedly, letting out an awkward scoff of laughter. “I mean, I know I’m handsome but come on!”

You shake your head. “Nice try, but I still don’t believe you,” you say resolutely. “Now, let go of my hand.” 

You pull yourself free determinedly, and Seokjin huffs gently, watching as you drop down and position yourself between his thighs which spread slightly to accommodate you. He stretches out, his long, lean body sprawling out over the couch. His sweatshirt rises, revealing his wonderfully defined abs and a lightly sweat-sheened stomach, the neat divot of his navel and clean lines that lead invitingly towards his pelvis and to the huge bulge tenting in his pants. 

You take him in greedily, fascinated momentarily by the way his stomach rises and falls in time with his quickened breathing. Did he really not know the danger of his own allure? His stomach was a work of art designed to bring women to their knees; you couldn’t get enough of it. Toned and inviting, you wanted to place sucking kisses across every inch of his beautiful honey skin. 

Seokjin watches as your hands move, fingers lingering at the waistband of his pants, your eyes finding his, full of unabashed desire as you start to tug down both the pants and his underwear. There’s something so exciting about stripping away these sweats from him to uncover what lay beneath, and your heartbeat quickens, skin flushing with want under his gaze. 

You ease the material carefully over the engorged head of his cock and watch in delight and raw want as his erection springs free, flush and dusky rose against his abdomen, the wide, spongy tip glistening with the first slick shine of precum. 

What a sight he is. Weighty and thick, saliva fills your mouth at what you see. You can barely contain your own arousal as you slide the garments down over his thighs until they rest just above his knees, giving you full exposure, the scent of his soap and sweat and masculinity mixing together in an irresistible cocktail that intoxicates you. 

Slowly, your head dips, moving towards his twitching cock. You need a moment to take it all in with appreciation. He’s so damn huge, so long and girthy, veined and tempting. A shiver of delight dances up your spine as you look up through your lashes to see Seokjin swallow with heated anticipation, the bob of his Adam’s apple only furthering your thirst for him. 

You’re so weak, so gone, so ready for him as you place your hands at the tops of his firm thighs, your mouth descending towards his shaft. You lick at your lips again, before the tip of your tongue connects with the slit of his cockhead, sliding across the line and tasting the first salty tang of his arousal. 

“Fuck!” Seokjin rasps tautly, body tensing as he raises his head a little further to get a better view of you. 

You swallow down what lingers on your tongue, the smallest hint of a smile playing at your lips as you hold eye contact with him. If he was going to be this seductive that it distracted you from work, then he was going to have to pay the price. You repeat the gesture once more, extracting yet another strained curse from Seokjin, accompanied this time by a groan. 

You take his head between your lips, pushing down your mouth over the velvety flesh, tongue flicking over his slit to take in more of his precum. You’re already in awe of his size, just as you always were, and even though only the tip of his cock is in your mouth, you can feel the stretch of your lips around it. His hips buck up involuntarily, wanting to be inside more, already addicted to your wet heat. 

He reaches down to bury a hand into your hair, guiding your head further down, impatient to speed up your unhurried start. You oblige, eager to pleasure him, hungry to taste more of his beautiful, big cock. You push forward, letting his massive length fill your mouth until the head hits the back of your throat, activating your gag reflex. The stretch is intense. Seokjin moans, fingers digging in against your scalp to keep your mouth around him. 

The tip of your nose presses against the soft skin of his abdomen, fighting to breathe as you inhale his scent, the situation so erotically charged that your arousal feels like it’s going to send you crazy. You force back the urge to gag, tears springing to your eyes as you swallow down your excess saliva before your lips clamp determinedly over his cock. You bring your hand up to curl around his thick base, so his entire shaft is encased by you. 

“Fuck, Y/N! Seokjin growls, relaxing his hand in your hair a fraction, enough that you can pull back, your lips sliding smoothly back up his erection, tongue lapping around his full girth. “You take me so—”

He’s stopped short, words fading into a sharp hiss as you cup his balls gently with careful fingers. You steal another glance upwards, where the view that greets you is exquisite. Seokjin’s eyes are trained in your direction but are closed, long dark lashes fluttering at the tops of his cheeks. His plump lips are parted open in a series of ragged pants and curses, hair falling disobediently messily as damp strands lick at the corners of his forehead. 

Oh, Kim Seokjin was world-wide handsome for sure. 

He leans back with a sigh as you squeeze gently at him, the long column of his throat bared, carrying the glowing sheen of sweat over his perfectly smooth skin. You caress the heavy sacks slowly, your mouth working at his cock languidly, stretching out every suck, every lick, every taste of him. Wanting him to want as badly as you do. 

You let your teeth graze along the underside of his shaft, and his eyes fly open, a mixture of fear and thrill in his dark irises. You smile up at him innocently, flicking out your tongue to collect yet more of his oozing precum into your mouth, before you make such a scene of swallowing it that your performance would be worthy of a porn award. 

It’s a direct hit. Seokjin winces, his expression showing you in no uncertain terms just how much he wants you. He’s practically fucking you with his eyes, pleading with you to take him, let him cum for you. You can feel how wet you are, panties soaked, your body crying out to sit astride him and let in every inch of that magnificent cock into you and ride him until you milk him for every drop. You wanted to know how it felt to have him fuck you whilst wearing those flattering sweats −you had to. 

The thought spurs you on and you suck harder at his cock, hearing yourself moan, your hands stroking him simultaneously as you feel him harden further, engorged and full enough to burst. The humming sound of your moan vibrates through his shaft, and he calls your name as if in a trance. With immense concentration, you break into a rhythm, your head bobbing up and down, fingers massaging at his balls, hand tightening at his base to stroke him. You know you’re pushing him hard from the salacious sounds he is producing and the sheer level of broken, frenzied cursing that accompanies it. 

“Y/N−,” he calls tautly, head snapping forward to look down at you, watching as you work him, fucking him with your mouth. “I’m close, baby. It feels so good… don’t stop−.”

You meet his eyes, opting to let him inside you even deeper so that every time your head goes forward to meet the slight rut of his hips, the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, edging him at your own pace. Seokjin’s eyes roll up in his head as the pleasure engulfs him, fingers gripping at the hem of his sweatshirt in desperation, hips jolting, his cock twitching against your lips as a fresh load of precum seeps out across your tongue. 

Feeling him tense up, you know he’s close again, so you pull back without warning, his cock slipping out of the grip of your mouth with a distinct pop. He groans like a man in pain, anguish in his eyes as he stares down at you questioningly. “No, baby−,” he whines, biting at his lip and pouting, “Why did you stop? I was so close.”

His duality was really something. 

You place a soft kiss at the tip of his still raging erection, which from the way Seokjin’s body judders involuntarily is super sensitive from your ministrations. With the lightest of touches, you stroke him a couple of times, keeping eye contact. He bucks up into your hand, chasing more friction, wanting to have the finish your touch had been promising. 

But it was too soon. As much as you wanted him, you wanted to play with him a little before you took him on the home strait. 

“Not just yet,” you coo. 

Seokjin’s eyes narrow animalistically, his expression stern and predatory. As if you didn’t know he could have you on your back in seconds if he wanted, pinned down under his weight, cock pressing at your opening as he kisses into you like a man possessed. 

“Y/N,” he breathes raggedly, eyes flashing dangerously. “You’ll be sorry if you don’t finish what you started.”

You love when Seokjin sounds masterful, it never failed to arouse you. This time was no different, and desire pools low in your stomach, building with pressure, waiting like a dam to explode. Your cunt aches for him, the emptiness you long for him to fill prevalent between your legs. 

You hum appreciatively against his cock, the vibrations driving him wild. “Is that right?” you ask teasingly. 

Your mouth hovers by his straining cock, millimeters away from the heat of his skin, tantalizing and torturous. Seokjin looks down at you, and you smirk back, running your fingertip over his wet slit, eliciting another deep groan from him. He looks wrecked for you, his breathing erratic, pupils blown and desperation in his glassy eyes. 

“You want−.” 

You don’t get to finish your sentence because in an instant, you feel Seokjin’s hand around the back of your neck and your mouth fills with his cock. You find yourself compliant as your jaws obediently open, tongue out flat as you allow him inside fully, once more hitting the back of your throat. The way he fucks into you has your body yearning like crazy for him, your cunt fluttering and constricting, need constantly building. Your moans increase as his relentless thrusts continue and you hear him grunt determinedly. 

The salty tang of his precum was in every part of your mouth now, flooding into your senses as your mouth is overrun with saliva which leaks around his cock as swallowing becomes harder. 

“That’s right, baby,” Seokjin sighs roughly, voice edged with barely held restraint as he quickens up, fisting into your hair roughly. “−Take it all.” 

Your eyes close, concentration setting at your brows as you continue to fight the urge to choke on the sheer size of his cock. Your hand comes up to assist, wrapping around his thick base to alleviate some of the ache in your jaw, and he groans salaciously as he looks down at you. What a sight it must be, his sweatpants around his ankles, his hardness all the way in your mouth, lips stretched to capacity around it as your hand wrapped around the base, tears spilling from beneath the corners of your lashes as you pleasure him repeatedly. 

His arousal stiffens between your lips yet more, swelling more, growing more rigid and impatient with each swirl of your tongue, each swipe over his flowing slit, thirsting for the taste of him with every motion. The sounds he is making are in turn rising your pleasure to an unimaginable point, your clit throbbing as you hear his shuddering, soft breaths. You ache to be touched as your arousal soaks through your panties. You start to feel the compelling need for some relief of your own, and slowly you edge your other hand down and under your skirt, searching for the apex of your thighs and your needy, wet cunt. 

But Seokjin is quick to notice and clearly has other ideas because he quickly catches your hand, lifting it away from yourself with a gentle, chiding tut. “No, baby—” he hums, his tone composed even if breathless. “This is what you were after, wasn’t it, hm?”

His cock slides out of your mouth with a soft pop, glistening with your saliva and his precum, as your eyes open to look up at him pleadingly. He looks even more beautiful now. Like some ethereal angel with sweet, berry lips and teasing eyes that stare back at you, dark with desire. And just like that he’s back in control. 

“Seokjin, please,” you murmur, relinquishing your power fast, hearing the crack in your voice as you abandon any sense of pride in favor of wanting him so fucking bad. “I need you.”

He tilts your face up with the crook of his finger, his cock jutting alluringly mere inches from your mouth. “I know, baby,” he smirks. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” 

You nod, your own desperation heightened. Those fucking grey sweats, they would be ruination of you. You take him in, all broad shoulders, fuck me eyes, bee-stung lips and ride-me cock. Kim Seokjin could fuck you six ways from Sunday anytime he wanted, and you would let him with a smile on your face. 

“Come here,” he commands, one hand wrapping around the base of his thick, hard cock. He strokes it a couple of times, eyes on you, knowing how weak you were for seeing him touch himself. He pats his thigh with his other hand, gesturing with his head for you to climb astride. “Take off your panties and come and get what you wanted.”

You don’t need asking twice. 

In the blink of an eye, you slide down your underwear and hitch up your skirt. You straddle him, arms curling around those beautiful broad shoulders, fingers finding the soft strands of hair at his nape. He cups your ass, raising you up slightly, the head of his cock touching your wet cunt and eliciting an excited whine from you. 

You reach out to push his hair away from his forehead, watching as it falls back into place in that boyishly untidy way that makes you yearn more for him. As your fingers continue to stroke down his face slowly, his eyes never leave yours, heavy-lidded with desire and darkening just like an approaching night. He’s so aroused, face flushed, breathing quick, colour tinging his cheeks and his skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat. 

You lean forward and steal a soft kiss from his beautifully swollen, plush pink lips. “I want you,” you whisper, your mouth hovering against his, lips just touching his teasingly, the tip of your nose nudging at his. 

Your hips circle around his crotch, applying pressure as you rock on his lap in a steady rhythm. You’re soaked, you know it, and he’s hard as hell, his cock straining dangerously towards you. You moan gently when you hear the primal, guttural sound that escapes him as you slide your wetness against him.

Your head dips into his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin as you press kisses at the vein that protrudes at the side. “Jin—,” you murmur needily just by his ear. 

Seokjin unravels entirely, and before you can even register what is happening, he reaches down to wrap a hand around his cock with an urgent hiss. He strokes himself a couple of times before cupping your ass and hurriedly lifting you away from him for a second. 

When he brings you down again, you feel the head of his cock push against your folds. “I need to be inside you,” Seokjin says hotly. “Now!”

His words thrill you as you reach down to guide him to your opening, sliding his cockhead between your wet lips back and forth before you position him at your soaked, fluttering hole. Slowly you start to ease yourself down as he brackets your hips, lowering you onto his erection.  

“Fuck—” you whisper fervently, already feeling the way his cock had started to stretch your insides. He’s so big that your body tenses for a second, but he perseveres, each inch edging into you torturously slowly. 

“Take it,” Seokjin coaxes, kissing at your mouth heatedly. “Take it all.”

“Mm… oh God,” you murmur weakly as you push down further, voice taut with arousal. You bury your face into his neck, inhaling the masculine scent of his skin, your cheek nuzzling at the soft material of the collar of his sweatshirt. “You make me feel so full!”

His fingers grip into your ass, applying more pressure as he grinds into you deeper. “Yeah?” he whispers hotly by your ear. “You like that?” You moan in response as he nicks at your skin with his teeth. “That’s my girl,” he coos. “Take what you need, baby. I want to feel you cum for me.”

Need fills your core, rushing you forward as you bear down onto his engorged, delicious cock. Pain mixes with pleasure as he fills you, taking every inch of you bit by bit in a commanding invasion. You throw your head back, lust burning every part of you unquenchably as you take in the exquisite sensation of stretching tightness holding him inside you. There’s such a thrill in knowing a part of him was inside you so deep in your most intimate part. 

“Seokjin!” you breathe, fingers digging into his back through his sweatshirt. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs hotly. “—You’re so tight. So good.”

You tremble at his words. Had you felt like you could allocate more time to this encounter, you would have pulled it off him, but such was your need all you wanted was him inside you. If the damn sweatshirt stayed on, so be it. As long as his cock was inside you. 

His lips claim yours just as you take the final inch, his entire cock sheathed by your walls, hard and swollen, a weapon waiting to be unleashed inside you. You moan into his mouth as your body gets used to the feel of his cock, walls holding him in place as he pulls you closer to him. Your breasts rest flush against his chest, feeling the heat of his body through your clothes. 

“Feel good?” he whispers, biting at your lips. 

“Mm,” you hum, lost in your own pleasure as you begin to rock your hips against him softly. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, hands at your waist, steering you, guiding your motions in a slow rhythm. “Can you feel me?”

“Yes!” you cry as your walls grip at his length tightly, searching for the pleasure he gives you in that sweet spot within you. 

You bite at his shoulder as he bucks up unexpectedly hard with a sharp, quick thrusting rut. It feels so fucking good, this man’s cock should be illegal. 

“Do you want to cum on my cock?” he says, plush lips at the hollow of your throat. “You want to be a slut for me? Wanting me this bad, hm?”

One of his hands makes its way between you, fingers locating your throbbing bud where he strokes at it gently in quick circular motions that make you dizzy with want. “Seokjin!” you can’t help but cry out, hands digging into his hair, tugging at his scalp. 

“Yes, baby,” he replies heatedly, sucking at your neck now, hard enough you know the bruise will be prominent. He looks back at you with feigned innocent chocolate eyes darkened with desire, “—You want something?” 

You don’t care. You want him to devour you. You can’t focus on a single thought as your cunt flutters and pulses hungrily around his engorged length. He fucks into you harder, quickening the pace, knowing exactly how to hit it right. The head of his cock meets your cervix, rubbing with maddening friction at your pleasure point with accuracy and purpose. 

You hear Seokjin’s breathing grow more ragged as you intensify your own movements, riding his cock in matching rhythm. You can feel your pleasure mounting, the pressure intensifying within, the taut thread on its way to snapping as you feel yourself being speared repeatedly on his erection. The feeling is deliciously exquisite and so fucking hot you can’t imagine anyone could ever arouse you more than Seokjin does. 

You wanted him forever. You wanted him to be the one you married. You wanted his cock to be the only one you ever let inside you for all eternity. He was everything to you, and he had ruined you beyond repair for everyone else.  

“Jin!” you moan again, “You feel so good inside me…” You sound inebriated on the pleasure he was giving you, your walls gripping him harder, squeezing against the heated, hard flesh inside you. “God, Jin— I want you.”

His lips capture yours, wet and warm, tongue engaging with yours as his thumb continues to apply pressure on your clit. You moan into his mouth, utterly delirious, uncaring how needy you were. The pleasure is so good that you bite at his plump bottom lip with a sharp cry. You hear Seokjin groan, his cock twitching inside you as he thrusts upwards with a little more force. 

“Careful, baby,” he warns breathlessly against your mouth in-between kisses, “You’re going to drive me wild.”

The sensations of his demanding cock and his delicious warning are overwhelming, his cock embedded all the way inside you, hitting at your cervix to deliver intense waves of rising ecstasy with every single one. You lift a hand to his face, fingers drawn towards his swollen lips, and you stroke your thumb across his mouth. 

How could somebody be so perfectly beautiful? Nobody even came close. Your hips circle slower for a moment as you take in the sight of him, enjoying the feeling of his thick length snugly inside you. 

“Don’t stop, baby,” Seokjin murmurs, hands finding your breasts over your blouse, palming over them, his fingers climbing up to find the buttons and undoing one quickly. “I won’t be responsible for my actions if you do.”

He gives you a deep thrust upwards, one you swear you can feel all the way up in your chest and you cry out his name, yanking at his sweatshirt, fisting the material as you hold onto him, leaning back so he can finish opening the remainder of your buttons and ease your blouse apart. Impatiently he pulls down your bra, groaning at the sight of your exposed breasts, nipples protruding against the cool air, inviting his mouth down onto them. 

It’s all him in control now, as you sit speared on his huge, thick cock, completely at his mercy as he pulls one breast into the heat of his wet, hungry mouth and begins to suck at you. You push down with your hips, one hand reaching up around the back of his head to press it against your chest, always seeking more. 

“Jin,” you whimper, the lashings of pleasure that are being delivered all over your body, outside and inside, taking hold of you and bending you to his will. 

“You want this?” he hums, teeth catching your nipple between them and giving you a gentle tug. “Like that?”

“Please, baby—”

He looks at you, his eyes tempestuously dark, past the point of return as he watches you writhe on his lap impatiently. He takes your hands in his, fingers entwining with yours as he holds your gaze. “Ride me,” he commands. “You want it? You take what you need baby.”

You don’t need asking a second time. You lift yourself up slowly from his cock until he’s almost wholly out of you, but you don’t let him pull out fully. You look down at him, seeing the glaze of his eyes as he stares up at you, the light sheen of sweat that adorns his honey skin, the sweet part of his plush swollen lips from which the softest, most salacious breaths escape. He’s so fucking pretty. So utterly, devastatingly alluring. 

“Jin,” you whisper, and in the same breath, you slide yourself back down onto him with urgency, the wetness of your cunt making the motion relatively effortless as your walls squeeze around him. 

Seokjin groans loudly as you come down flush onto his lap, his fingers gripping yours tightly. You don’t wait as you repeat the same move, your hips beginning to circle around him as you do it again, and then again, quickening with each drop. He’s so stiff inside you as you ride him, your heat holding him deliciously as you chase your nearing climax. Harder and faster you go, spearing yourself onto him repeatedly, your hands leaving his to grasp at his broad shoulders. 

He cups your breasts, weighing them in his palms appreciatively as he watches them bounce with your movements, so aroused now he can barely think straight. He doesn’t even notice when your nails dig into his back, doesn’t care that even through the fabric you would leave marks on his skin.

He brings one hand between you, thumbing over your glistening clit that shines with slick. “Fuck, baby,” he moans. “You’re perfect.”

His praise buoys you and you quicken a little more, feeling that tight coil within you start to wind tauter, knowing the snap would come sooner rather than later. You can feel the head of his cock slam against your cervix, right at your sweet spot, over and over. You’ve never felt anything quite like it, your mind obsessing with the exquisite way he fills you so satisfyingly. Better than any vibrator. 

And then he’s kissing you, his wet, hot tongue sliding against yours, probing into your mouth as his hands bracket your hips to assist. You kiss him back wildly, shamelessly moaning now, the pleasure growing inside you. You feel consumed and invaded by him, he’s everything. All you see, all you feel, all you want and all you would ever want. You concentrate on the way he stretches you, occupying every single inch of your most intimate part, feeling as if he had impaled himself so deep into you that he was in your stomach. 

Your eyes open only briefly, just to see him. Your beautiful man, desperately holding on for you, knowing he was hanging on to every shred of restraint he had as you hover on the brink. He bites at your lip hard, his tongue flicking across the spot to soothe you and you yelp, the pain and pleasure together a heady mix that has you lingering on the last few seconds of the edge. 

“Oh God,” you whine, feeling him thrust upwards to meet you as you bear down on him, his cock driving into you just right as his thumb applies just the correct amount of pleasure onto your sensitive bud. “—Jin! Fu—”

“That’s it, baby,” he coos. “Let it go for me.”

You can feel every single inch of him inside you, tearing you apart with his huge cock, and you love it. Your body tenses on the final approach as one more time you lift up and sink down onto him. 

It’s over, and all you can manage to whisper is his name as you shatter spectacularly around him. The slick of your arousal pools out over him and out, running down over his thighs and over his cock in a heated mess. His gray sweats weren’t going to survive this encounter scot-free. 

“That’s my girl,” Seokjin breathes as he continues to fuck you through your climax. “You feel so fucking good.”

It isn’t long before you feel him harden inside you momentarily, before his cock twitches and pulses against your still convulsing walls, ropes of hot liquid spurting out into you as he finishes with a series of salacious grunts. You love watching him finish, seeing that rapture caught on his face when he finally lets go, bringing your barely recovered body back to life again. 

When you are both eventually done, your body slackens against his, his head buried against your chest as you stroke his hair. You love the feel of him like this, so soft yet strong, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he holds you against him as if he never wants to let you go. 

You place a kiss at the top of his head. “Jin,” you call gently. 

He looks up with a slow smile. You will never tire of how beautiful he is, you could look at him for a million lifetimes and never get bored. His cock is still inside you, still not completely softened yet, and you wish you could keep him inside you forever. 

“Hmm?” he says lazily, his expression sated and sweet. “What’s up, baby?”

“I think I’ve messed up your sweats,” you tell him, biting at your lip.  

He chuckles. “That was your real intention all along, wasn’t it?” he teases. “You took issue with my outfit the moment you came back.”

You nudge him playfully. “As much as I would love to take credit for that, this” —you gesture between you both— “wasn’t exactly in my plans.”

He steals a kiss from your lips with a smile. “This was definitely better,” he tells you. “Fuck the sweats.”

You kiss him back, arms winding around his neck. “Yeah, fuck—” You stop, suddenly feeling movement inside you, and realize that he’s stirring again. You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “No way!” you exclaim. “You can’t be—"

Seokjin smirks knowingly. “Oh, I can, baby,” he hums, hands sliding up your thighs. “You owe me.”

“What?” you say incredulously. “What on earth for?”

He grins. “New sweats, baby,” he says, before his lips claim yours. 

thanks for reading |

ᴳᵉⁿʳᵉ : College AU, Fwb-to-Lovers, Fluff & Intimacy, conffesion (featuring an insufferably clingy boyfriend-to-be).

​ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ : Sleep-deprived Jungkook being a menace · kissing, biting etc · Over-the-clothes touching & zero respect for personal space · Playful teasing & casual vulgarity · Light angst regarding college reputation · Complete academic sabotage (he does not care about your exam).

word count: 3.1k · masterlist link

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The obnoxious yell of your alarm tears through the quiet of your dorm room like a siren. You drag a hand across your cheek, wiping away a streak of drool before blindly reaching across the mattress and swiping at the red button, silencing the torture.

With a groan, you decide that adulting is a scam and prepare to flop onto your other side to execute a solid fifteen minutes of blissful procrastination.

You roll over. You open your eyes. Then you immediately blink, squinting through the morning blur to get a clearer picture, because something is definitely not right today.

Jeon Jungkook is completely passed out on his stomach right next to you.

He’s buried deep under your girlish, baby pink duvet, occupying 75% of your bed without a single care in the world. His face is turned toward you, pillow-smushed and framed by a chaotic nest of messy dark hair. His back muscles are completely relaxed in slumber, and he isn't wearing a shirt.​

Which is entirely your fault, considering you're currently drowning in his oversized T-shirt, stolen off your floor after your intense midnight make-out session. (Strictly because you just love the smell of his stupidly good fuckboy cologne.)

You stare down at him, your brain running through a mental checklist of things that are wildly off:

1. It’s morning.

2. Lectures start in an hour.

3. Jeon Jungkook is still here.

4. Jeon Jungkook is never still here in the morning when lectures start in an hour.

Normally, Jungkook is a ghost by now. He has a habit of sneaking out before the sun comes up, mostly because he has a reputation to uphold; Campus "fuckboy," heartbreaker, guy-who-doesn't-do-mornings. And honestly, you’ve been more than fine with that arrangement. If the girls down the hall caught him slipping out of your room, you’d never hear the end of it and your low-profile college existence would be officially over.

​Yet here he is. Looking stupidly peaceful.

"Jungkook," you hiss, jabbing your finger directly into his exposed shoulder blade. "Jeon. Get up."

He groans, and lazily swats your hand away, then he turns his head slightly, burying his face deeper into your pillow without opening an eye.

​"Jungkook, I'm serious," you mutter. "I'm trying to save us from a social disaster,"

He doesn't answer. You look down at him, your gaze tracing the softness of his sleepy face when he isn't trying to look cool and shit. Your eyes eventually settle on the tiny mole just beneath his bottom lip.

Without thinking, you reach out. Your index finger lightly presses against the brown spot.

Jungkook doesn't pull away. Instead, his lashes flutter, a tiny, subconscious smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as your fingertip lingers there. He shifts slightly, sliding one arm around your waist and dragging you back down into the center of the bed until your hip is pressed flush against his side.

Positioned a bit higher on the mattress, your chest sits just above his head. He buries his face directly into your stomach, nuzzling into the cotton of his own tee. The sudden movement sends a flurry of butterflies straight to your belly, catching your breath in your throat for a sharp second.

"Hey," you protest weakly, though you let yourself be pulled into his warmth. "I mean it. You're supposed to be gone."

"Five minutes," he grunts.

"No," you say firmly, trying to ignore the way your pulse rises. "I am not falling for this. If you are so exhausted, go back to your own bed."

"M'not that tired," he lies smoothly.

"Right," you deadpan, rolling your eyes as your fingers naturally drift up to run through his messy hair. "You can barely talk."

"I can talk fine,"

"You're not even fully awake," you point out, as your fingers tug gently at the roots of his hair.

He finally squints one eye open, looking up at you through a mop of unruly curls, and flashing you a lazy smirk. It's the exact look that usually gets him whatever he wants. The playboy look.

"I'm awake enough to do other things," he murmurs, his hand sliding down from your waist to grip your hip firmly, his thumb digging into the bone through the fabric.

Your fingers freeze in his hair. You look down at him, your cheeks warming. "You're stupid," you murmur, completely flustered and hating how effortlessly he does this to you.

Jungkook just gives you a knowing smile, and shifts slightly, tilting his head to press a kiss right over your covered stomach. He then pulls back just enough to look up at you, his dark eyes hooded and still heavy with sleep.

"You stress too much, Y/N"

"That's because you stress me out,"

He chuckles sending a vibration directly against your body. You are melting into the mattress, and you both know it. Shifting his weight, he pushes up onto his hands, moving effortlessly to hover entirely over you, blocking out the pale morning light creeping through the blinds with his shoulders. He dips his head, pressing a open-mouthed kiss to your exposed collarbone.

"I can make you relax real well, too," he teases, his breath fanning hot over your skin as his lips trace up the column of your neck.

"No need," you gasp out, trying to push at his chest, but your weak protest is entirely ignored.

​Jungkook drops his head lower, and a embarrassing sound escapes your throat as he lightly nips the sensitive skin right where your neck meets your shoulder. His hand slides all the way up your ribs, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of the shirt, his palm finding your bare skin and pushing upwards to firmly cup your breast.

You feel dizzy instantly when his thumb brushes over you. God, he's so good at this. Of course he is. He's Jeon Jungkook. Someone that shouldn't be here.

You get lost in the sensation. In the way his mouth latches onto the sweet spot of your neck. His tongue licks over your skin before his lips create a heavy suction, marking you. You know full well he is leaving a hickey there; claiming you in a way a casual hookup shouldn't be allowed to. You will have to hide the mark with concealer and collared shirts for the next five days. But right now, as his teeth lightly drag over the bruised skin, you can't even find the energy to care. You tangle your hands back into his hair, gripping the strands tightly as your eyes slip shut.

​You never, ever thought you would end up like this with him. If someone had told you six months ago that you would be risking your entire quiet college existence to become just another body count for Jungkook, you would have laughed in their face.

But look at you being a breathless mess beneath him, completely dismantled as he uses his mouth and hands to manipulate you into staying in this bed forever. Jungkooks lips are hot, dragging down your jaw to bruise the junction of your neck once more, making your toes curl into the sheets.

But enough is enough.

Gathering whatever little willpower you have left, your fingers tighten around his hair, giving a forceful tug that pulls his head back, forcibly pulling his mouth away from your skin, stopping him from continuing to abuse your neck.

"Ah," Jungkook whines softly at the sharp pull on his scalp. He blinks up at you, his lips swollen, and slick from kissing your neck. "What?"

​"That's it," you declare. "No more. I have an exam first class today."

​Jungkook’s brow furrows, his head resting heavily against your chest as he groans in protest. "Fuck the exam."

​"I am not fucking the exam, Jungkook," you hold his face back by his hair so he can't bury it back into your neck. "I spent the entire week studying until two in the morning for this. I am not about to miss it because you're feeling lazy."

​He rolls his dark eyes, a small, sleepy scoff escaping him. "Of course you did, nerd."

​"I am not a nerd," you glare down at his insufferable face. "I just actually care about my future. Unlike some people who think they can slide through life on a leather jacket and a pretty smile."

​Jungkook doesn't argue. Instead, his gaze drops from your eyes down to your parted lips, taking his sweet time tracing the flushed skin of your jawline down to the fresh hickey he just left on your neck. You narrow your eyes at him, sensing the trouble brewing in his head.

​"Jungkook," you say warningly. "I mean it."

​He flickers his eyes back up to yours, perfectly mimicking an innocent expression, right up until you feel his hand slide smoothly down, slipping straight beneath to the elastic band of your panties. Your eyes widen in instant panic. You yank harder on his hair, but he barely winces.

​"Kook! Stop—"

​"Shh," he mutters. "You're a smart girl. Your bright, shiny future isn't going to fall apart because of one stupid exam."

You try to shift away from him, to twist your hips out of his reach, but the sudden pressure of his middle finger pressing against your heat betrays you entirely. A pathetic, helpless moan escapes your throat. Your back arches involuntarily, head falling back against the pillow in surrender.

​Capitalizing on your moment of weakness, Jungkook shifts his weight up, managing to press a kiss along your jawline right up to your chin while his fingers move in a intoxicating rhythm below.

"Jungkook, stop, really—I just—I just want to get good grades," you gasp out as a dizzying surge of heat rushes straight to your core.

"I know, baby," he coos against your chin. "You're such a good student. So smart...I'm so proud of you."

"You piece of shit," you manage to choke out. "You don't care about my grades... you're just trying to shut me up so I don't kick you out!"

​Jungkook lets out a low laugh, unbothered by the insult because he know that it's entirely true.

​Refusing to let him win this round, you reach down, wrapping your fingers firmly around his wrist and using all your strength to pull his hand away from between your legs. Recognizing the real edge of annoyance in your grip, and realizing you genuinely want to make it to class, Jungkook finally gives up. He sighs heavily, letting his hand drop uselessly onto the sheets, though he makes absolutely no effort to actually get off of you. Instead of moving, he simply collapses his entire torso flat on top of you, burying his face directly into the crook of your neck.

​"You are so fucking unavailable, you know that?" he mutters with a dramatic mix of a pout and genuine exasperation. "I don't think I've ever had to compete with a syllabus before."

​"Move, Jungkook," you say, giving his bare shoulder a shove that doesn't budge him even an inch. "I'm serious. Off."

​"Can't we just stay like this?" he murmurs tiredly, his voice muffled against your collarbone.

​"No" you say firmly. "Some of us have responsibilities."

​"Responsibilities are overrated," he grumbles, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as if physically pins you to the bed. "Just sleep in. Skip the day with me."

You sigh, resting your chin on top of his head as your hands mindlessly massage his scalp. You look down at the popular campus fuckboy, currently clinging to your waist like a giant koala in a pair of basketball shorts. You smile softly to yourself, shaking your head in total disbelief.

​"You know, for a guy with a terrifyingly high body count and a strict 'no-sleeping-over' policy, you’re incredibly clingy when you're almost unconscious," you say, your voice dropping into a teasing purr. "Is this just part of your usual morning routine with everyone?"

​"Not unconscious," he corrects. "And I don't do this with anyone else."

​Your hand freezes in his hair for a fraction of a second before you recover your cool, dry tone. "Right. I’m sure you tell all the girls who you let steal your clothes that they're special."

​Jungkook doesn't laugh like he usually does. Instead, he opens his eyes and looks up at you with an intensity that makes your stomach do a ridiculous flip.

​"I don’t leave my shirts with anyone else," he says quietly, his thumb lightly trace the hem of his t-shirt collar resting over your collarbone. "And I don't stay past five in the morning."

​You raise an eyebrow. "So what, you're just terrible at time management now?"

​Jungkook lets out a faint sigh. He pushes himself up slightly, propping his weight on his forearms so he can hover right over your face.

​"No," he mutters, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before locking back onto your eyes. "I like it."

"You like what? Ruining my reputation?"

"I like waking up next to you,"

"...What?"

"I like that I don't have to put on a show when I'm here. And... I don't really want to sneak out anymore."

"Jungkook," you start carefully. "We're friends. With benefits. Excellent benefits, sure, but—"

"I don't care about the label we started with," he cuts in.

Before you can pull up another defense, he shifts his weight, sliding closer until he is hovering just millimeters over your lips, trapping you in his space.

"You're joking," you whisper, trying to force out a nervous laugh, though it gets hopelessly caught in your throat. "You're sleep-deprived and delirious. You're just talking."

Jungkook doesn't get frustrated or roll his eyes. Instead, he presses a sweet peck right to the corner of your mouth, followed by another soft kiss directly to your bottom lip.

"I'm not joking, Y/N," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours with every spoken word. He's leaning in fully, using every kiss, every lingering touch to work his way straight past your defenses, trying to capture your heart. "I haven't been joking about us for a long time."

You blink at him, your mind racing. "Right. And what about your usual crowd? I'm supposed to just forget the fact that half the university thinks you're taking a different girl home every weekend? I don't really feel like believing a guy who—"

​Jungkook lets out a weary sigh, a faint scoff escaping him as he pulls back just enough to look you dead in the eye.

​"I don't give a shit about other girls," he says, his dark gaze unwavering. Then, a wicked little spark flashes in his eyes as a teasing smirk tugs at his swollen lips. "Honestly? My cock doesn't even really react to anyone else anymore. It's kind of a problem."

​An unexpected, loud snort erupts from your nose. "Oh wow, how romantic, Jeon." you wheeze out, your face burning a deep shade of red as you bring both hands up and shove hard against his bare chest, finally summoning the strength to sit up in bed.

Jungkook lets out a dramatic whine, but he follows your lead, propping himself up on his hip and tilting his head like an overly curious puppy, his messy fringe falling into his eyes.

Even with your back pressed against the headboard, you can't escape him. He lazily reaches out, his hand finding your thigh through the baby pink duvet, slowly massaging the soft flesh in soothing pattern.

"What?" he asks, flashing a cocky eyebrow at your red face. "Are you scared?"

"I'm not scared," you snap back defensively, wrapping your arms over your chest. "It's just... people will talk. If we do this...if we become an actual thing, the entire building will be talking about it. People are going to have opinions. Your reputation isn't exactly subtle."

"Let them talk," he says simply. "Who cares?"

You stare at him, completely at a loss for words. You look at his stupidly handsome face, the sculpted lines of his abs, and the genuine warmth in his dark eyes. As annoying as he is, and as much as he drives you insane with his lingering, his smirk, and his complete disregard for your schedule, you really do enjoy having him around.

Over the last few months, your chest had started aching with a uncomfortable sting whenever you saw him strutting down the college hallways, having to pretend he was just a stranger because of the strict 'no-strings' rule you both set. You hated not getting to talk to him. You hated watching him walk away.

​Jungkook notices the shift in your eyes, reading the subtle crack in your armor like an open book. He leans in, closing the distance between you once again. His hand slides up your thigh, giving your leg a squeeze as his lips press into yours. The kiss is slow, melting away the last lingering threads of your resistance.

​"So?" he murmurs between soft presses of his mouth. "You in?"

​He nips at your bottom lip, dragging it gently with his teeth before releasing it with a pop. You let out a shaky breath, and taking advantage of your silence, Jungkook leans close to your ear, voice dropping into a whisper.

​"Or are you really going to reject me, Y/N?" he rasps, his warm lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Gonna break my poor, fragile heart?

​You pull back just enough to glare at him, your lips mere inches apart. "Says the guy who spent the last two semesters playing with half the campus's hearts."

​"I won't play with yours," he answers instantly, dropping all the playful teasing, completely serious "I promise."

​You look at him for a long second, taking in the genuine honesty in his doe eyes.

"Okay," you whisper softly.

Jungkook’s face instantly lights up. A triumphant smile breaks across his lips. "Okay?"

​"Okay," you repeat.

​Jungkook lets out a low, victorious hum, wrapping his arms around your waist and forcefully tackling you backward onto your back. You squeal as your head hits the soft pillows, the breath knocked right out of you as his massive frame settles comfortably on top of yours once again, pinning you to the mattress.

​He peppers quick, affectionate kisses all over your face; your cheek, your forehead, the tip of your nose, and lastly along your collarbones.

"Good," he murmurs, supremely pleased with himself. "You're my girlfriend now," he mumbles happily against your skin. "Deal with it, nerd. Now go ahead and cancel that exam so we can sleep."

──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

𐙚 header image/gif sourced from pinterest & edited by me

“shit...”

jungkook's breath caught as he exhaled roughly, you watched the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, the way his free hand clenched once at his side before he forced it still as if fighting composure with all his might but still failing.

the pointed heel of your boot pressed a little harder against the bulge in his jeans, right in the middle.

the sharp tip finding the length of his cock through the fabric expertly, the pressure was enough to make pain mix with pleasure oh so sweetly and enough to make him lose his mind as his lips parts.

you could feel how hot and hard he was with just the point of the heel, the way the material of his jeans held onto the sensitive underside of his cock.

it felt like your foot was touching his bare cock and not over layers of clothing.

you rolled your heel slowly, grinding it in a small circle over the growing thickness, feeling the way his cock begins to harden more under the pressure.

his cock responded almost immediately, twitching once and then again, beginning to fill out under your boot.

your lips curled into a smirk as you felt the way he throbbed under the heel insistently.

“does that feel good?”

you asked quietly, keeping your voice casual like you were asking about something as simple as the weather instead of the way you were steadily hardening him.

he swallowed hard again, his ears turning pink.

“yeah...” he admitted.

“it does, it feels… really good.”

he lets out a quiet moan, eyes growing half lidded.

“mhmm?”

you clicked your tongue, enjoying the sight of him grow weaker by the second and more deliciously submissive as you pressed a little firmer, the heel digging into the base of his cock and sliding upward until it rested right over the head which you tracked very easily from the way the very tip of him began to press more against the denim.

as if his cock had a mind of its own and, not wanting to escape your tortures, chasing for you anyway just like jungkook always did.

always so desperate and a little selfish for pleasure from you.

“hahh.”

he lets out an almost childish whimper, it was such a cute sound, half breath, half suppressed whine as his hips rocked forward.

you could see that he tried his best to be obedient and to remain still for you while taking everything you gave like a good boy.

you could already see that a dampness was starting to form, evidence of the precum leaking out of the trapped head of his cock.

“i've been thinking about the other day you know.”

you continue, still applying pressure, rolling the heel in another slow circle because you seem to note how it made his legs shake.

“about how you came all over my hand that day with me just playing around the tip of your dick.”

he gasped at the reminder, his eyes fluttering close for a second as he bites his lower lip.

the memory was still fresh, he had never cum with someone just touching his cock and never been so aroused and out of his mind.

he was so sensitive and trembling at the feel of your thumb right on his slit that he blew a load harder than he ever had, it made his white fluids trail all the way down your arms.

“me too, couldn't stop thinking about it.”

he admits shamelessly, bottom lip quivering as he looks down at your foot pressed against him, wondering with excited breaths if you'll make him have another mind blowing orgasm like that again.

his cock jumped under your heel as he spoke, leaking more droplets.

you tilted your head enjoying it a little too much, knowing what's going on in that little head of his without him telling you about it, you read him like an open book especially on how to control his body.

“tell me something, do you ever think of getting pegged? you like the idea hm?”

the question makes jungkook pause slightly as his eyes widened when he registered those words in his hazy mind.

his heart pounds, brows furrowing and he slowly nods, struggling to concentrate on your words and the way you circle the tip of your heel so perfectly against his bulge.

“i asked a question, answer it.”

you pressed hard enough on the underside of his cock, shifting it upwards and making him jolt.

“f-fuck...” he stammers.

the denim was stretched tight, you could feel the exact shape of the head of his cock, the way it flared and leaked, forming a wet spot.

“i'm asking, do you?”

he hesitated only a second, his cheeks were so flushed it looked like he was running a fever as his eyes met yours with a little more confidence in them.

your feet paused, waiting to hear his reply.

“yeah sometimes, more than sometimes lately.”

his voice was shy but sure as he fought to stay still.

“i've thought about it, about someone taking me like that... being the one who's filled instead of doing the filling..”

he rushes out in a breath, his head falling back in a grateful long whine when your foot resumes the movements once again.

you could feel every throb, every twitch as he talked, his chest rising and falling under his shirt.

“what do you dream about exactly?”

you asked, focusing on doing a set pattern of circles that dragged from the base of his cock up to the leaking head and back down again.

again and again and again.

he lets out small little pathetic noises that sounded close to “ah ah ahs”.

his head thrashes side to side slightly, his legs spreading on their own slightly wider to give you better access, he bites his lip hard enough to make the sweet mole beneath his bottom lip visible.

you loved it so much but your eyes narrowed at the sight of it.

why does he have to be so pretty? every inch of him? it makes you wanna pin him down and just take him the way you wish to.

you had so much sheer patience to hold back and stick to just teasing him.

you couldn't help it and leaned closer, your tongue coming out to lick at his bottom lip and swiping at the mole, tasting his sweat and the unique male taste of him.

he lets out a groan of approval, his mouth parting to take your tongue in a kiss but just when he was about to do that, you grabbed the back of his neck, fisting the little hairs there and pulling his head away.

“stay in your limits and answer what i just asked you!”

he pants, your dominance seemed to turn him on even more, he liked being put in his place by you and you know that by the way his body trembles slightly and the way he breathes hotly right against your lips.

“i wanna feel something thick pushing inside me, i want to feel the stretch and pressure.”

“i just wanna be held down and fucked until i can't think straight... i-i sometimes i even touch myself at the thought of it.”

“of course you do, you're a dirty boy aren't you?”

you press your boot hard against him and keep it pressed, watching the way it made his thighs tense, the muscles in his leg tensing.

“oh god yess.”

he makes a sobbing sound that comes out throaty, this was another one of your favorite sounds from him and the little squeaks accompanying it.

he doesn't dare shift his hips away from the assault.

“you want me to peg you.”

you said, it wasn't a question.

“yes.” he admitted immediately.

“i do...”

his hips rolled against your heel, grinding his length up and down with desperate little motions he couldn't quite suppress.

“i'd let you, i'd want you to.”

he pleads with rawness in his voice, he refused to look away from your eyes so fiercely and full of need even when the pressure of your heel made him throb harder.

“i'd spread my legs for you, i'd take whatever you put in me.”

his cock twitched painfully as he spoke, trying to bite back a loud moan threatening to escape as his hips stuttered forward, his abs flexing.

“keep talking...” you breathe.

“i've thought about the stretch.”

he continued even if he struggled to breathe properly and form words from all the feelings crashing over him.

even if his cock wasn't being directly stimulated, your words and your foot, the helplessness of not being able to do anything but take what you were giving him made him feel more ectasy than humanly possible.

“i've thought about you fucking me slow at first then harder when i start begging.”

he lets out a breathless chuckle, crazy horniness written all over his face as if he were imagining it happening so vividly while he explains everything to you in detail.

“i'd cum hard, probably all over the floor and i'd still want more after.”

the fabric was so damp that the heat of him felt almost slick against your boot.

“yeah? you'd take my strap so good, possibly the biggest dildo i own huh?”

you ground the heel in one last circle and he nods dumbly.

the way his eyes roll to the back of his head suggests that he was so close, just about to tether to the edge but you wouldn't give it to him so easily, he didn't deserve it so soon.

maybe he should indulge in just his fantasies alone.

then you eased the pressure slowly just slowly enough for him to barely register it, his hips still giving those tiny thrusts as if you hadn't moved your foot away at all.

it makes you grin, your eyes growing cunning.

jungkook lets out a wounded noise, eyes opening as he blinked, his knuckles clenched so tightly that they whiten as he fights the urge to reach for you or for himself.

he doesn't know, his brain turned into mush.

the front of his jeans was now fully soaked along with the tip your heel.

“w-why-”

“i'm just not in the mood right now.” you shrug.

“you're cruel.”

there was no real complaint in his tone because he knew, he knew the games you played and he was forever grateful to be just a part of it.

he knew that if it ended here, no matter how aching and blue balled he was right now, there would be a much greater reward later.

you just liked to make him work for it and he'd happily do so.

you smirked again, stepping back, your eyes accessing him from head to toe, focussing at the wet spot of his denim, the entire length of him still hard and trapped inside his boxers.

“maybe next time i won't stop at the heel.” you said.

“maybe next time, i'll actually give you what you dream about.”

he nodded once, still breathing hard.

“i'll be waiting for that next time.”

he rasps, still having that honesty from before when he'd confessed.

“don't make me wait too long.”

you turned and started walking away without another word, leaving him standing there against the wall, hard and leaking and watching you go.

but before you could get through the door, you paused and looked back once again to stare at the beautiful boy who's still flushed from denial and whose eyes are sparking with something entirely more than desire.

he keeps coming to you for more every time and each time you keep pulling him closer.

you really don't know who actually is the more hungry one here, him or you.

you knew one thing for sure: that you had him wrapped around your finger and you don't let go of things that you already owned.

jungkook was yours.

the one who easily got weak on his knees for you so with a curl of your lips and your tongue coming out to wet your bottom lip, you winked.

“you better work for what you deserve then baby.”

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Jungkook has never courted a girl before, but he thinks he’s getting the hang of it. It started small. A car waiting outside the club after your shift, just in case. Then coffee, your order engrained in his brain without being asked, appearing on your vanity before you’d changed out of your work clothes. Then came jewelry, which cost Jungkook about an arm and leg, but he didn’t mind.

You’d say Jungkook, no with your mouth while your eyes said something else, and he had learned very quickly that the eyes were the more honest of the two. That was his favorite discovery.

He didn’t stop at just a pair of earrings. He couldn’t. He moved on to necklaces, diamond rings, tennis bracelets. I don’t want your money, you had said to him, and he had respected that. He respected it still to this day. But noticing what made your eyes do the thing made his heart flutter in a way he wasn’t used to. He was a detail-oriented person by nature. It was only natural for him to continue to catalog every detail about you.

He also paid off your mother’s hospital bills, but he did that quietly through three different channels, and he will take it to his grave if you ever ask him directly.

The thing is—and this is something he has been turning over quietly, privately, in the way he processes most things that matter to him—he would do anything to have you. To have some kind of claim over you. Sort of how he approaches everything worth having, which is with patience and intention and the knowledge that he will figure it out eventually.

He has figured out most things.

There is, however, one thing that remains.

In the past few weeks, the two of you have done quite a lot. Beyond the frivolous dates and gift-giving, his sex education has been thorough and he has proven to be, in his own humble assessment, a committed student.

He’s learned that you love when he pushes your head down deeper onto his cock so it hits your esophagus. You cum harder when you make eye contact with him and he talks you through it. If he fucks you with your legs on his shoulders, there’s a high chance you’ll squirt all over him.

But the one thing he hasn’t done… the fault is his own and he is painfully aware of it.

He thinks about it constantly. Masturbates to the thought of it in the shower, gets hard at work or at company dinners. Wanting something very badly and knowing how to do it well are two different things, and Jeon Jungkook does not do things until he can do them well.

Tonight, however, he is determined. He’s a man on a mission.

Below him, you lie on his king-sized mattress, adorned in a lace pink camisole he had bought you earlier. Your eyes are hazy from the red wine he had been spoon-feeding you upon your arrival to his penthouse. Cheeks ruddy, hair a tangled mess, but he thinks you look gorgeous regardless.

“Kookie, stop it,” you giggle, squirming as his lips find the supple skin below your ear, fingers pushing weakly at his shoulder that he’s learned means the opposite of stop.

“Can’t.” He murmurs against your neck, moving lower. “Too pretty.”

A soft moan falls from your lips when his mouth finds the valley of your chest, lips pressing warm against skin the camisole doesn’t cover. He feels your chest rise sharply under him. Pushing the hem of the silk up slowly, he reveals the plane of your stomach, enough to press his lips there too, kissing your abdomen to your belly button to…

Your fingers entangle in his hair and tug. You pull him right off, and he lets himself be dragged up, peering at you expectantly.

“What are you doing?” you ask, although it’s not really a question.

He holds your gaze. Kisses your stomach again without looking away. “Treating you right. The way you deserve.”

That answer doesn’t seem to satisfy you, and your eyes narrow. “Jungkook—”

God, he’s done it now. Full name. You usually revert to ‘pretty boy’ or ‘Kookie.’

“Let me.” His voice comes out lower than he intends, Your fingers are still in his hair and the nerve endings in his body are very aware of every point of contact. “Please.”

Sighing, you shake your head. “You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to.” He turns his head, presses his lips to the waistband of your panties. “I want to. I’ve wanted to for a very long time.”

“But you’ve never—”

“I know.” His jaw tightens. Do you think he’s not capable of pleasing you the way you do him? Jungkook doesn’t normally care for the male ego, nor does he think it needs to be stroked, but a swell of anxiety pushes to the forefront of his brain. “I’m aware of that. Which is why I need you to let me.”

You stare at him hopelessly. “Kookie.” Your thumb traces his cheekbone. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“I’m not proving anything.” He catches your hand, turns his face into your palm. “I just… I want to know what you taste like.”

Jungkook senses that he’s got you right where he wants you. He watches as you teeter on the breaking point of resolve. Watches your lips part and your eyes go soft at the edges and he feels the fingers in his hair loosen their grip.

“Please,” he says again. He’s also learned you can’t say no to him in certain scenarios, which he is not above using. “Let me. I’ll be good.”

“I’ll be so good,” he murmurs against your stomach, nosing at the hem of the camisole. “I promise. Tell me if I’m doing something wrong, tell me what you want, I’ll do whatever you want, princess.”

You wiggle underneath his grasp. With a quick peek at your panties, he can see the wet spot forming where your pussy is. Fuck, his mouth waters, eyes lighting up. Just one taste of you and he’ll be yours forever.

“Does my pretty boy want to taste me?” You card your fingers through his ruffled hair, and the sensation goes straight to his cock.

Jungkook eagerly nods, shuffling closer so that his lips ghost over your soaked panties. He wants this. A man who identifies what he wants and acquires it, who does not linger in the wanting. In the privacy of his own humiliation, he’s done research. He has asked Namjoon things he will never speak of again. He has lain in the dark of this penthouse thinking about the little moans you make and what it would take to make more of them, better ones, ones that are specifically his to hear.

“Okay, Kookie,” you say, “I’ll teach you, yeah?”

His hands find your hips, fingers curling around the waistband of your panties. “I’ll do good,” he says. “I promise.”

You look down at him, propped on your elbows, oh so pretty in the low light of his penthouse that something in his chest pulls taut. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. Jungkook wants to make this as enjoyable for you as you always are for him. He tugs down your underwear, inch by inch, before tossing them somewhere he doesn’t care to know.

Under the light, your folds glisten with arousal, and his mouth waters with desire. Something visceral sprouts in his chest and he suddenly feels possessive over you, although he has no right to claim you. You run your manicured fingers through his hair, breaking his trance. “Give it a lick, Kookie. Taste me.”

You really don’t have to tell him twice. Jungkook connects his tongue to your folds, licking up a stripe and tasting your essence on his tongue. It’s sweet, salty, like sugar on his tongue and he’s addicted. He moans into you, and you grin widely, ruffling his hair. “Tastes so fucking good, princess,” he sighs, diving back in for a few more kitten licks.

He spreads your legs wider, wrapping them around his broad shoulders, wearing your thighs like earmuffs. You jolt forward, eyes widening, and Jungkook tries to remember what Namjoon told him. Tries to picture the porn videos he watched. Tentatively, he licks over your folds before coming to flick his tongue over the sensitive nub he thinks is your clit. You squeal, “Fuck, right there, baby.”

“Hm, right here?” he innocently asks, repeating his actions and circling your clit with his tongue. He tries to fall into a pattern, remembering that Namjoon told him when girls like something, it’s smart not to switch it up. Lo and behold, you squirm, and his big hands push down on your hips, pinning you to his plush mattress.

“Oh, fuck,” Your back arches off his bed as he tongues your clit, his hand reaching around to try and spread your folds to gather more and more of your milky arousal. “It feels so good, Kookie, y-you’re such a good boy.”

He moans at the praise, tongue working faster against the nub. Jungkook’s mind is on autopilot, instinctively moving as though it’s done this before. He ignores the ache in his cock, using his long, tattooed fingers to push into your sopping entrance. Your walls feel so tight around him, so wet and warm. He lets his fingers rest there, uses what you taught him on fingering to thrust in and out of you while he stimulates your clit. Your fingers twist in his hair. “Shit, so good, baby. Doing such a good job for me. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” He pops his head off, fully aware your juices are all over his lips. The way you look at him tells him you don’t mind one bit. His fingers continue to pump in and out of you, juices collecting on his wrist. “I want to taste you, princess. Are you gonna cum on my tongue?”

He says the words so innocently that he forgets they’re sinful. Your lashes bat at him as you try to fight back another moan, eyes connected to where his biceps strain with each movement of his fingers. “Y-yes, Kookie, I’m gonna cum—fuck—if you keep going.”

“I’m doing good, right?” He licks a stripe up your folds, maintaining eye contact. He watches as your eyes roll back into your head, walls tightening around him again.

“Doing so good for me, baby,” you whine. “My pretty boy.” His heart flutters in his chest. He dives back in, tongue poking around your entrance, fucking in and out along with his fingers. His nose presses against your clit, and he can’t help but shake his head back and forth to try and stimulate your clit.

“W-where did you learn that?” You moan, and he has to fight to hide the smirk. Kim Namjoon is good for some things, he supposes. Apparently, he has just the right nose to fuck your clit with. You push his head onto your pussy, even though there’s not an inch of space left. He can hardly breathe, but none of it matters, not when he’s so intoxicated off you.

He just wants to be a good boy, wants to prove himself to you. You deserve only the best, and he’s determined to learn and give it to you. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t fail at anything, period. And that includes making you cum.

“Fuck, fuck, Kookie, don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m gonna cum, right there, baby.” Your limbs thrash against his ears, but none of it matters, nothing matters except for how utterly amazing you taste, how ethereal you sound when you’re all his.

He crooks his fingers upwards like Namjoon told him to, feeling your sweet spot and toying with it. Your back arches once more off the mattress, but he uses all his weight to hold you steady. With one final swirl of his tongue against your clit, he can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, milky cum coating his hands and lips. Jungkook laps at your entrance, taking as much of you into his mouth as he possibly can. “Oh—fuck.” You throw your head back onto the pillow. “Fuck, baby. That was so good. You’re so good to me.”

He peers up from between your thighs, smiling widely.

It’s then, and only then, that he realizes he came in his fucking pants.

Again.

God, he’s a loser.

Thankfully, you don’t care much for that, eyes glossy and lips swollen. You’re still under a dreamlike trance after your orgasm.

“C’mere and give me a taste,” You crook your finger towards him and he grins devilishly, unwrapping your legs from around him and climbing over you. His lips find yours as easily as they always do, and a whimper escapes you as you taste your essence on his lips. Jungkook has to hold himself back from cumming in his pants (yet again—and really, twice is far too embarrassing, even for a man with as little experience as him).

“You’re never.” You kiss his cheek. “Ever.” Then kiss his jaw. “Ever.” You kiss his lips chastely. “Doing that to another fucking girl, you hear me?” Your hand finds his jaw, forcing you to stare at him.

You must think he’s insane.

Maybe he is. Maybe thirty years of total indifference followed by one woman has rewired him. Maybe he has completely lost the plot. Maybe his dumbass friend were right about everything and Jungkook will have to live with that.

However, he would, without hesitation, rather be lowered into the ground at his own funeral than spend a single day knowing someone else has what he just had. He would rather explain to his father why the Jeon succession plan fell apart than lose the best thing that has ever happened to him, and that includes the company, the penthouse, and the Ferrari he still hasn’t bought himself.

Suddenly, a thought clicks in his brain. The final puzzle piece of your words slotting into his mind.

“So,” Jungkook begins, lips ghosting over your jaw. “Does that mean you’re keeping me?”

He moved into the house next door when you were seven and he was only six. You knew from the moment you met him, hiding between his mom's legs, that he would be an easy target.

The neighborhood bullies caught on quickly, too. But they learned even faster that if they messed with the bunny, they had to answer to you. You spent half your childhood with scraped knuckles, standing in front of a trembling Jungkook and daring anyone to take another step toward him.

You’re reminiscing now, scrolling through your phone on the couch, when a violent sound shatters the peace of your apartment.

It’s 9 PM, and someone is slamming into your front door. The pounding is heavy and you're on your feet in an instant with annoyance radiating off you as you march toward the entryway.

"Who the fuck is it at this hour?" you mutter. You're ready to chew out whoever is trying to break the door down. You grab the handle and yank it open, the words already flying out of your mouth. "Someone better be dying or–"

The rest of your threat dies in your throat. You were prepared to fight, but the sight in front of you brings you to a dead stop.

“Noona…”

Your best friend, leaning heavily against the doorframe, breathing as if he just ran a marathon.

“Jungkook?” You step forward, feeling your annoyance instantly replaced by worry. “What are you doing here? What happened?”

It’s hard to reconcile the man standing in front of you with the little boy who used to hide behind you. Back then, you were the shield. Now he towers over you. He hit a growth spurt in high school that never seemed to stop, and then he discovered the gym.

He is massive now, easily a head taller than you now, a wall of solid muscle.

Over the years, tired of being seen as "cute," he did everything he could to tough up his image. You were there for all of it. He started hitting the gym religiously. You held his hand when he got his eyebrow pierced, watching the piercer wipe away the blood while you stayed glued to his side for reassurance. You were there when he got the hoop in his bottom lip, telling him he looked cool so he wouldn't panic about the swelling.

And the tattoos. God, the tattoos.

His right arm, currently gripping your doorframe so hard you’re actually worried he might leave a permanent dent in the wood, is covered in a full sleeve of colorful ink.

He even has a matching tattoo with you on his left one. It’s a small, simple star. You’d both gotten them the summer of your second year of college as a permanent reminder of the way you’ve always been each other’s lucky star.

Your best friend doesn’t look like a victim anymore. He looks like someone who could snap a predator in half, at least until someone focuses on his big doe eyes and round face, but you’d never be the one to tell him that.

Jungkook doesn't need you to fight his battles anymore. He has a good life. A solid job. A good group of friends who don’t care about his species. You like them, especially Jimin, a sweet calico cat hybrid he met in college who Jungkook became instant friends with.

But despite the muscles, the ink, the piercings, and the height, he is still looking at you with those big, brown doe eyes. The only difference now is that they’re filled with desperate panic.

“Noona,” he wheezes. “Help… please.”

Before you can get another word out, Jungkook collapses, stumbling forward and practically falling into your arms.

“Whoa!”

You brace yourself, your feet sliding on the entryway floor as you try to catch him. Or rather, as he engulfs you. He wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck, and just... lets go.

He goes completely limp against you, forcing you to stumble back against the wall so you both don't end up on the floor.

“Jungkook!” you hiss, trying to wedge your hands between his chest and yours to get some breathing room. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Stand up!”

Ignoring you, he tightens his grip, pulling you even closer against his body. He inhales sharply, dragging his nose right behind your ear.

“Mmmm,” he whimpers. “You smell so good.”And presses his lips to the side of your neck.

You freeze. Your entire body goes rigid. Heat rushes to your face so fast it makes you dizzy. You’ve had a massive, secret crush on this idiot for years and having him nuzzle your neck is doing things to your heart rate that you do not appreciate.

“Jungkook!” You shove his shoulders, using all of your strength to finally peel him off you, just an inch. “Stop that! What the hell is happening?”

You’re a fox. You know scents. And now that he’s this close, the smell coming off him is unmistakable. It’s thick, musky, and sweet.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you breathe as the realization drains you. “You’re in heat.” You stare at him, stunned. “Did you take your suppressants?”

Jungkook mumbles something, his forehead dropping to rest on top of your head, seeking your contact again.

“I forgot,” he confesses miserably, rubbing his cheek against your hair. “I forgot to refill the prescription. Thought I could... I thought I could wait a few days.”

“A few days? Kook, you’re a bunny. You don't just 'wait out' a hormonal nuke like this,” you mutter, smacking his arm lightly as you look at him. . “You absolute dumbass,” you groan, letting your head thump back against the wall.

He whimpers at your harsh tone, burying his face deeper into your hair as if trying to crawl inside your skin. "I'm sorry, noona! I'm really sorry!"

“Okay, okay, calm down,” you mutter, more to yourself than him. You need help. You need backup. “Come on, you big idiot,” you grunt, wedging your shoulder under his armpit.

It takes every bit of your strength to drag him from the hallway to the living room. Jungkook is dead weight, his feet drag on the floor as he slumps against you, mumbling incoherently about how good you smell. 

Once you get him to the couch, you practically dump him onto it. He immediately curls in on himself, clutching one of your throw pillows.

“Stay,” you order, pointing a finger at him.

He looks up at you through his messy bangs. He looks like a kicked puppy, or rather, a very sad, very horny bunny.

You need a solution, and you need it five minutes ago. Patting your pockets, only to realize you left your phone on the entryway table in all the chaos. You definitely won’t leave him alone to go get it because you don’t trust him not to follow you like a lost duckling.

You lean down to where Jungkook is curled up and start patting his pockets, your hands moving over his thighs in a way that is definitely not helping the situation.

"Noona," he whines, his body twitching under your touch. Instead of pulling away, he leans into your hands. "Please... help me, noona... please."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic," you mutter, finally find his phone. You snatch it, the screen lighting up at your touch. Locked. You quickly type in the six digits of your own birthday, and the home screen slides open.

The image staring back at you distracts you. It’s a photo taken during a hike up Bukhansan last autumn. You’re leaning into his side, his arm draped comfortably over your shoulders, heads tilted together, smiling at the camera. To any stranger passing by, you looked like a happy, loving couple.

You wish.

Shaking off the thought, you scroll to his favorites. Jimin is right at the top, sandwiched between "Mom" and your own contact name. You hit call and press the phone to your ear, pacing in front of the coffee table. “Pick up, pick up, you furry little shit,” you hiss.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. Jungkook has dragged himself up from the couch and is currently pinning you against him.

“Jungkook!” you yelp, trying to maintain your balance as he pulls you against his chest.

“Hello?” Jimin’s voice crackles through the speaker, sounding amused. “Jungkookie? Are you at–” 

“It’s Y/N,” you interrupt him, trying to pry Jungkook’s arms off your stomach, but it’s to no avail. You grunt, wondering how he can be so fucking strong when his brain is clearly melting.

“Oh, hi!” Jimin chirps, sounding far too cheerful.

“I need help,” you say, your voice tight as you wedge an elbow between you and the broad chest pinning you.

“With what?” Jimin asks. “Do we need to bury a body?”

“What? No!” you huff, trying to stay upright. “It's Jungkook. He’s in heat, Jimin,” you say bluntly.

“Oh!”

“He forgot to refill the prescription,” you explain, struggling against the bunny hybrid attached to your back. “Now he’s sweating like crazy and he’s... Jungkook, stop it!” You swat the top of Jungkook’s head. He’s started licking the sensitive spot behind your jaw.

“He’s licking me!” you shout into the phone. “Did you hear that? He’s licking me! Tell me what to do! His pills? Can I go get them for him? Will they work?”

“Uh, no,” Jimin says, his voice turning apologetic. “That’s not how biology works, Y/N. The pills are suppressants. They stop the hormones from spiking. But once the spike happens… you can’t stop it.”

Jungkook groans, rubbing the front of his body against your backside.

“Sit!” you bark, spinning around to push him back towards the couch. “Jungkook, sit down right now! Bad bunny!”

He whimpers but he sits back down on the edge of the cushions. He looks up at you with those wide, glossy doe eyes.

"Don't look at me like that!" you snap, pointing a finger at him to keep him from lunging again. You turn your back on him, trying to ignore the heat crawling up your neck as you focus on the phone. “So what do I do?” you demand, turning back to the call. “I can’t just... leave him like this.”

“Well,” Jimin sighs. “You have two options. Option A: You lock him in a room and you let him ride it out alone. It’ll be miserable for him, bunny heats are painful if they aren't, uh, addressed.”

Unlike predators, who usually get aggressive or territorial, prey hybrids get needy. Desperately needy. It is a biological imperative for them to breed, and when a heat hits, it hits hard.

“And Option B?” you ask. You already know the answer, but you need to hear it.

“Option B,” Jimin says, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “You help him out.”

You choke on air. “Jimin!”

You know exactly how to fix a bunny heat. Everyone does. It is biology 101. They need sex, lots of it. But this is Jungkook. He’s been your best friend since forever. And yes, you might have been in love with him since high school, but you push that thought violently out of your brain. Absolutely not.

“Hey, you asked! He needs release, Y/N. And not just once,” Jimin chuckles, voice low and amused. “He needs to be… attended to.” He pauses, grinning like he knows exactly what he’s saying. “And there is literally no one else on this planet he would want right now but you.” 

Then, as if he suddenly regretted saying that, he adds, “Anyways… I gotta go now. Don’t keep him waiting too long, alright?”

You frown, confusion knitting your brows. “Wait, Jimin, what do you mean he'd want to be with me? Don’t you dare–”

“Good luck, Noona! Bye!” The line goes dead.

You lower the phone slowly, staring at the black screen in disbelief. Your gaze shifts from the phone to Jungkook. He’s still pressed close, his body trembling against yours on the couch. 

"What am I going to do with you?" you ask out loud, letting out a sigh.

He's getting clingier by the second, his hands fisting the fabric of your shirt. It’s getting harder to resist. You’ve spent the last decade pushing your feelings towards him into a tiny, invisible corner of your brain, locking it away behind a heavy door with a sign that says He’s just your best friend.

But right now, that door is splintering and falling apart under the weight of his gaze. "Noona," he whimpers, nuzzling into your neck. "Please..."

You pull back just enough to cup his face. "Jungkook, what do you need? Tell me."

"I need... I don't know, it just– it hurts!”

"Where?" you ask softly, though you already know.

His eyes drop to his own lap, and you follow the movement just to see the obvious tent straining against the denim of his jeans. Heat floods your face, but you force yourself to stay calm.

Okay. Fine. Let’s do this.

You tell yourself you’re just helping a friend, a desperate attempt to keep your head on straight.

Kneeling between his spread legs, the metal buckle of his belt clinks softly as you work it loose. You grab the zipper tab and glance up. “Lift your hips,” you instruct, sounding firmer than you feel. “Come on, big boy, I can’t do this alone! Help me out here.”

He obeys, arching up with a soft groan as you tug the jeans down his thighs. You kick them aside. His legs are bare now, strong and full of muscle. Your fingers hook into his underwear and you look up at him, heart pounding. "Jungkook... are you sure? Like one hundred percent?"

"Yes, yes, please, noona," he whines, cutting you off before you can ask again. "I need it. Need you."

Pulling the underwear down, his cock springs free. It’s big. It’s thicker than anything you’ve ever dealt with. The predator in you is screaming to take charge, to climb onto those massive thighs and ride him until neither of you can breathe. 

The sweetness of his scent fills your nostrils, making you wonder if his heat is affecting you too. No. Control yourself. With a firm grip, you wrap your fingers around the base. He’s so thick your hand barely closes but you start pumping slowly, sliding your palm up to the head and back down, twisting a little at the top.

"Is this okay, Kook?"

Jungkook lets out a whine, his head falls back in pleasure. "Yes... yes!" he gasps, his hips bucking up into your hand.

You keep going, your thumb spreading the leaking pre over the head. "You're doing so good, Kook," you murmur, watching his face. "I'm  going to take the pain away, okay? Just let me take care of you."

“Tighter, noona, please. Like that... oh God, yeah.”

He’s panting, breathing hard as he watches your hand move on him. "Fuck, don't stop," he moans, his hands gripping the couch arms. The curse slipping from his lips as you twist your wrist startles you. Jungkook never swears. 

The heat must be frying his brain, stripping away that polite filter and leaving nothing but unfiltered need. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen, and it makes your own blood run hot. You speed up, your movements becoming more aggressive as you squeeze him tight.

"Noona!" he cries out. His body jerks as he cums in your hand. 

He slumps back with his eyes closed, looking calmer, but when you glance down, your stomach flips. He’s still completely hard. His cock is twitching against your palm like that release didn't even happen. 

“Are you kidding me?” you demand, letting go of him as you stare at the mess on your hands. “How long is this going to last?”

Jungkook blinks at you. “I don't know... it's my first time without the pills. With them, it's only one or two hours of discomfort. But like this... I have no idea when it’ll stop.”

He doesn't give you time to process what he just says, because he leans forward, his hands cupping your face and tangling in your hair. He pulls you in, his lips finding your neck, pressing kisses into your skin.

"More, noona," he begs, his voice muffled against your skin. "Please... it's not enough. I still need you. Don't stop now."

He keeps trailing kisses up your neck. You feel a warmth pooling between your thighs, your pussy aching, but you bite back any sound. 

But as the weight of his hands and the heat of his mouth press against you, your mind begins to shift. You’re supposed to be just helping him out, but the physical touch and his scent are doing a number on you.

You decide right then that if you’re doing this, you might as well enjoy it too. You stop fighting the pull in your gut and let yourself get just as swept up in it as he is. 

Still on your knees, firmly planted between his spread legs with your hands resting on his thick inner thighs, you pull back and meet his eyes. You’ve known him long enough to recognize that look, the one where he’s dying for something but is too shy to say it out loud.

"What do you want?" you ask. "I want to help you, Kook."

Jungkook's eyes drop to your body, then flick back up, his cheeks dark red. "More," he whispers.

"More of what?" You tilt your head as a small smile plays on your lips. “I can’t read your mind, Kook. I need you to tell me what you want.”

"More of you," he breathes, his hands fidgeting on your arms. “I want to see you, noona.”

You stare at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide and a little desperate, like he’s asking for something he shouldn’t. It makes warmth curl low in your stomach. 

You stand up slowly, your pajama shorts riding up your thighs. His eyes follow every movement. "Okay," you say. You grip the hem of your tank top and peel it off over your head, tossing it aside.

You hook your fingers under your bra straps, loosening them before reaching back to unclip it. "Like this?" you ask. You let the straps slide down your shoulders but hold the cups in place, teasing him. "Is this enough for you?"

Jungkook's face falls into a pout, his lower lip jutting out. "No... I want to see everything, noona. Please."

With a soft laugh, you let the bra drop and Jungkook goes still. His mouth parts in silence, his eyes locked on your chest before lifting back to your face, all googly-eyed and dazed.

"Do you like the view, Kook?" you ask, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

"You have the prettiest tits," he breathes. "They're so perfect, noona."

Your face heats up at his compliment. You kneel back between his legs, wrapping your hand around his still-hard cock and start slowly dragging it from base to tip, over and over. "What do you want now?" you murmur. Your tits bounce gently with each stroke, and he can't tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the movement.

Jungkook’s gaze finally drifts up, leaving your chest to fix on your mouth instead, his lips parting slightly as he watches you. “Do you want my mouth, Kook? You want me to suck your cock?”

"Yes... yes, oh yes, please. Please, noona," he begs, his voice cracking as he looks up at you with wide, desperate eyes.

Leaning in, you part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth. Jungkook gasps sharply, his body jerking as if he's about to snap right then. "Ah!" His hips buck up, thrusting into your mouth. One hand flies to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands. "Noona, your mouth..." he whines.

You take him deeper. You slurp noisily, your free hand massaging his balls. His thrusts get messy, fucking your mouth with desperate snaps. His whole body tenses. "I'm, fuck! Noona, gonna cum," he warns. You pull off just as he's about to reach his climax. Jungkook whines, his hips chasing your mouth. "No, please! I was just about to–"

“Ah, ah,” you say firmly, shifting back just enough to look at him while adding, “I don’t trust you not to choke me because you're being way too aggressive.”

Shifting up, you press your tits together around his length and slide them up and down. You lean forward to lick at the tip. “You like that, don’t you? Such a horny bunny, fucking noona’s tits.”

“Yes... oh, yes.”

You smile, moving faster. Jungkook’s head throws back, a moan ripping from him as he climaxes. Hot ropes of cum shoot out, splashing all over your tits, coating your skin and dripping down into the valley in between.

You grip the base of his cock and drag the still-leaking tip over your nipples, smearing the mess across them. He's still hard, still twitching in your hand, refusing to soften even after all that.

Completely undone, Jungkook stays sprawled out, blinking up at you with nothing but adoration. "Thank you, noona... You're so good to me," he murmurs. "It felt so good..."

You, however, are far from fine, as your shorts are soaked through and you’re aching to be filled. You look down at yourself, then back at him.

“You really couldn't hold back, could you?” you tease, while you watch him try to catch his breath. “Look at the mess you made, Kook,” you murmur, gesturing to your chest where his seed is smeared over your skin.

His eyes follow your hand, staring at the marks of his release all over you. "Sorry, noona," he whispers, though he doesn't look sorry at all.

"Sorry won't buy you out of this one, little bunny," you say. You reach down and drag a finger through the mess on your skin, then bring it to your mouth to lick it clean while you hold his gaze. “What are you going to do about it?” you challenge, tilting your head.

Jungkook’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. He catches his piercing between his teeth, giving it a tug as his eyes stay fixed on your chest. “Let me clean it,” he says.

“Oh? And how exactly are you going to do that?” You ask, smacking the tip of his cock against your tits. You let go of his length and plant your hands firmly on his thighs. “Tell me, big boy.”

“With my mouth,” he breathes while sitting up, his hands sliding to your waist to pull you closer. You weren't expecting him to be that direct as he adds, “I want to clean your tits with my mouth.”

With a soft chuckle, you move, climbing onto his lap and straddling those thick thighs. The moment you settle, his hard length presses firmly against your pussy, and the way he rubs against you through your shorts makes your blood boil.

Leaning forward, you press your breasts right over his face, offering them up. "What are you waiting for then? Be a good boy and clean noona's tits."

Mouth opening wide, he latches onto your nipple, tongue sweeping over the slick warmth coating your skin. Then back and forth between them, his face buried in your chest as he tastes you.

“Mmm, yeah,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair. “That’s it, Kook. Sucking my tits so well.”

Praise is like fuel to him. He whines into your flesh, his mouth working harder. His tongue moves in circles around the peaks to make sure he doesn't miss a spot. When he pulls back, you can see his lips glistening. “Do you like it, noona? Do you like how I'm cleaning you?” he asks with a trembling voice.

“Mmm. You're doing so good.”

He smiles, looking pleased with himself, and goes right back to your tits. As he feasts on you, his hips start to move, driving up and rubbing his hard cock against your clothed pussy.

You pull his hair tighter, forcing his face deeper into your skin while his hands slide from your waist to your ass, digging into your cheeks through the fabric as his hips keep grinding up into you. The angle shifts slightly, his cock dragging right against a spot that makes you moan loudly.

“Am I doing it right, noona?” he rasps as he looks up at you, thrusting up again. “Right there?”

“Yes, right there!” you sob, your body starting to shake as he keeps rubbing against that sensitive spot. “Just like that, Kook. Don’t stop.”

You start moving your hips in sync with him, grinding down hard to meet his moves while his fingers dig so deep into your asscheeks that you’re sure he’ll leave marks. 

“You're so sensitive, noona,” he says before latching back onto your breast and sucking even harder. You scream as you climax, and a moan tears from his throat as he slams his hips up one last time before reaching his peak too.

Jungkook stays seated with you straddled over him, hugging you tight with his face buried in the crook of your neck while he tries to find his breath. You can feel the damp heat where his release soaked into your clothes.

"Are you feeling any better, Kook?" you murmur, asking even though you can still feel him stone-hard against your pussy.

"A bit," he rasps. "But... not much. It still feels like I’m lost in a fog."

You pull back to look him in the eye and see his pupils are still huge, looking at you with a stare so heavy with lust and something more that makes your heart hammer against your ribs.

“Aww, my poor bunny,” you coo softly.

His hands are locked onto your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as if he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go. His eyes drop to your lips. "Noona," he whispers, looking incredibly needy. "Can I kiss you?"

Your brain short-circuits. "W-what?"

You can feel yourself blushing. It’s ridiculous. You’ve had his mouth on your tits for the last ten minutes but a kiss feels like a line you can't – you shouldn't – cross. 

Once you find out how he tastes, there’s no going back. You won't be able to forget how his mouth feels, or how that lip ring feels against your lips. You're basically handing him the keys to ruin you if you agree to it.

"We– we can't, Jungkook," you stammer, your voice faltering as you scramble for a reason to say no. Even as your words stumble, every part of you is screaming yes. You’re aching to feel him closer, to kiss him, to let him have you. Your hands itch to reach for him, to pull him in. "I..."

"Please... please, noona. I want to kiss you. Why don't you want to kiss me?” He whines, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. 

"I don't know!" you snap, your mind racing for an excuse.

Jungkook lets out a long, pathetic whine. He tugs you forward until your forehead is resting against his.

“If I don't kiss you right now, I think I'm going to explode. Just one. Please,” he pleads, looking up at you from under his lashes. 

Your resolve crumbles. "Fine," you breathe. "Okay. Just one."

You lean in slowly and his hands slide up to cup your jaw, tilting your head. When you can feel his breath against your lips, you stop, but Jungkook doesn't. The distance shrinks until his lips finally crash against yours.

His lips are warm, soft, plump. The cool metal of his lip ring presses against your bottom lip, and he’s teasing it with his tongue, sucking gently, dragging it over your lips. 

You can’t get enough. You want to melt into him, to drown in this moment.

Your shorts and his shirt feel like a barrier you don’t want there anymore. Every fiber of you aches to feel his skin against yours, to grind into him freely. You want to feel your skin against his. 

If this is your last and only chance to have him, you’re going to make the most of it. You’ll deal with the consequences of a broken heart later; right now, you just need him.

You’ll deal with the consequences of a broken heart later, right now, you just need him.

Breaking the kiss, you grab the hem of his shirt, peeling it over his head and tossing it. Now, he's sitting there in nothing but that silver chain you got him for his birthday, and since you gave it to him you’ve never seen him without it.

The fabric falling away reveals his chiseled abs, slick with a fine layer of sweat. Messy from your fingers, he looks devastatingly handsome. You wish you could take a picture, frame it, and put it in your living room just so you could stare at this version of him every single day.

Shifting on his lap, you rub your pussy directly against his hardness, feeling the way he tenses beneath you. “Kook,” you breathe, nipping at his neck, “I want you inside me.”

Jungkook stiffens. He pulls back, his hands freezing on your waist.

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask, your brows furrowing. “Did I say something?”

“No! No, you didn't do anything wrong! It’s just that…” He pauses, his voice turning into a hesitant whisper. “Noona, I've never…”

You blink, stunned. Your brain stutters. No way… he can’t mean what you think he means, right? 

“W-what? But I thought that with Sohee... I thought you two...”

Sohee. His ex-girlfriend. They dated for a while after meeting in his second year of college, and during that time, your "best friend" face was working overtime.

You didn't hate the girl, she was cool and nice, which almost made it worse, but you weren't about to be that cliché of the pining best friend trying to snatch a guy away from his girlfriend. You had way too much pride for that.

So, instead of sitting around moping, you went on a mission to distract yourself. It was a period of distraction, rebound after rebound with anyone who could take your mind off the fact that Jungkook was holding someone else's hand and kissing someone else's lips.

You spent every weekend out, waking up in different beds and trying to convince yourself that the variety was better than the one person you actually wanted. 

You were trying to drown your feelings in a sea of nameless faces, and for a while, it almost worked. It definitely wasn't your proudest moment, and you’re still not a fan of how you handled it, but at the time, it felt like the only way to survive watching him be with someone else.

They broke up after half a year. Jungkook never wanted to talk about it and you respected his wishes.

“No,” he says nervously. “I... I mean, we never went that far.” He looks up at you.

“Kook, it’s okay,” you say softly, cupping his face. “We don’t have to go any further. I can still help you out with my hands or my mouth.”

You start to shift, moving to climb off his lap, but his hands snap back to your hips, pulling you down hard.

“No!” he gasps. “I want to! I really want to. With you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you.”

He nods vigorously. “I’m sure. Please.”

You take a breath, trying to calm the pounding in your own chest. “Well, let me take these off first,” you murmur.

You stand up just long enough to slide your shorts and panties down your legs. Once you're bare, you climb back onto him, straddling his thick thighs. Your wet pussy presses directly against his length, and you both let out a moan at the contact.

"Noona," he gasps, his hands shaking as they find your waist. "You're so soft. You feel so good."

"You too, Kook," you whisper, leaning down to kiss him again. "Are you ready?"

He just nods.

You reach down and wrap your fingers around him, lining the blunt head of his cock up with your entrance. Jungkook’s hands are trembling where they grip your thighs.

“Noona, wait,” he gasps. He looks down at where he’s pressing against you, his face full of worry. “I don’t want to hurt you. Are you... are you sure you’re ready to take me?”

You don't even bother answering with words. Instead, you take his hand and press his fingers directly against your soaking wet folds so he can feel exactly how ready you are. 

"You're so wet..."

"For you, Kook," you whisper, and as the words leave your mouth, his eyes widen. He looks at you like you’re the only anchor he has in the middle of this storm, his hands trembling where they grip your thighs. “I’m going to be fine. I promise.”

Slowly, carefully, you begin to lower yourself down.

Jungkook lets out a moan and you hiss as the stretch starts – he is so fucking big. It feels like he's going to split you in half, but it's a good ache, so you keep going until you've forced your body to take all of him.

You let out an involuntary whine once you're fully seated. Jungkook, who had been staring at the point where you’re joined, looks up at you, his entire body freezing.

“What? What’s happening? Did I hurt you?” He starts to lift his hips, trying to pull out, but you slam your hands onto his shoulders to keep him pinned.

“No!” you pant, your eyes watering slightly from his size. “You’re just... you’re so big, Kook.”

A bit of cocky pride crosses his face at that. You see the shift in his eyes and decide to bring him back to earth before his ego gets as big as his muscles. You lean down, nipping at his earlobe until he lets out a startled huff.

His hands are gripping the couch as if he’s about to rip the fabric. “I don’t know if I’ll last long, noona,” he confesses. “You feel too good.Everything feels too good.”

“I don’t care,” you encourage as you start to move. “Just enjoy it, Kook. That’s all that matters to me.”

You find a pace, bouncing slowly at first to let your body get used to his length. Jungkook can’t do anything but moan, his eyes fixed on the way your tits bounce with each movement of your hips.

Reaching down to grab his hands and press them onto your tits, making him groan as he immediately starts pinching your nipples. "That's it," you moan, arching into his touch, "play with noona's tits, Kook... you're doing so good."

"Like this?" he asks as he tugs at one nipple.

“Yes, yes!”

You keep up the pace while he works your nipples between his fingers. When you clench your inner walls around him, Jungkook's entire body suddenly stiffens. “Noona… ah… I… I’m… oh fuck…” 

The heat inside you intensifies as you feel his release flooding you, and the base of his cock begins to swell, the knot expanding quickly until you are locked together.

“Oh,” he breathes, his eyes snapping open. His hands leave your tits, falling back to his sides. He looks down at where you’re joined, his face turning bright red. "Noona... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He keeps apologizing, looking absolutely devastated that it was over so fast.

You grab his face, making him look at you. “Kook, hey, look at me,” you say, stroking his hair away from his forehead. “It’s okay. Really.”

"Noona, this is so embarrassing," Jungkook blinks, his watery eyes searching for yours while he stays locked inside you. “I wanted to last. I wanted to be better for our first time together.”

"Shh," you whisper,  thumbing away a stray tear because seeing him this upset is more than you can handle. "You don't have to apologize."

“But I wanted you to enjoy it,” he insists, his voice cracking with a mix of frustration and shyness while his chest heaves against yours. 

“And I did Jungkook! I promise I did,” you reassure him, giving him a smile.

“But you didn't cum,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to where your bodies are joined, and you stay silent because there's no point in lying. “What can I do? Tell me what to do so you can feel like that too.”

“There’s no need, Kook,” you murmur, caressing his cheek and leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to his forehead while you try to pull him back into your space.

“Yes there is! I want to please you, noona.” He insists.

You smile at his stubbornness, taking his hand and guiding his fingers down between your bodies, pressing them right against your swollen clit. “Right here,” you whisper.

“Like this?” he asks, his touch tentative, careful. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm, yes,” you moan, letting your head fall onto his shoulder as he starts to rub. “Just like that, Kook. A little more pressure.”

He looks more confident as he watches your expression. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me.”

“You are,” you gasp when his thumb hits the spot. “You’re doing so good, Kook...”

He follows your lead. He works his thumb over you, watching your face while you melt. You move your hips again, feeling the pressure of the knot inside you.

It takes you by surprise when Jungkook leans in and latches onto your tit, drawing your nipple in. He sucks, his tongue swirling around while his thumb keeps rubbing your clit.

Your walls clamp down on his cock while you sob his name into his neck, your fingers digging into his shoulders and your voice breaking as the orgasm hits. You cry out for him not to stop, and Jungkook keeps his mouth on your breast, his thumb never stopping until you finally go limp against him.

"Was it good, noona?" he whispers against your skin, his voice sounding small and hopeful as he waits for your approval.

"It was perfect, Kook," you pant, trying to catch your breath while you melt into his touch. "You did so well."

The pressure of the knot finally starts going down, and as you look at Jungkook, he offers you a small, shy smile and reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

As he gets a little smaller, you shift your weight to give him a break. But the moment you move, his length surges back to full strength inside you. You bite your lip. You might not actually survive the night if he keeps this up.

“Noona?” he rasps, his hands sliding to your waist to hold you in place. “Can we...” He pauses then, looking at you with a doubtful expression as if he’s afraid of asking for too much, before he finally whispers, “Can we do it again? It felt so good.” He leans in, pressing a series of kisses to your neck while murmuring, “I want to feel you more.”

You stare at him. You know bunnies have a reputation for high energy but this is borderline ridiculous. "Again?" you tease with a small smirk on your lips. "You're a persistent little thing, aren't you? Such a horny bunny."

Jungkook just nods and hums in response.

"Mmm," you whisper, "but we are moving to the bed. I am not letting you ruin my couch with any more of this mess."

You look at his hands on your waist, enjoying the sight of the big, buffed-up Jungkook begging you for more even though you know you shouldn't.

"And..." He pauses, biting his lip while looking surprised by his own request, but he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he asks, "Could I... can I be on top this time? Please?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." you murmur.

You slowly lift yourself off him. As you stand, you feel his release running down your skin. It’s a mess of thick, white streaks of his seed running down the insides of your thighs.

Jungkook watches the trail against your skin. His look shifts. Seeing his seed leaking out of you triggers something in him. He wants to put it back in, to fill you until you can't hold any more and plug you up with his cum.

He decides to keep the thought to himself, but his cock twitches.

You reach down, taking his large hand in yours, and tug gently. "Come on, Kook. Let's go," you murmur, guiding him toward the bedroom.

The walk to the bedroom is short. Your bed is a mess of pink cushions and soft blankets. The moment you reach the mattress, you let go of his hand and fall back onto the pile of pillows, making yourself comfortable.

“Come here,” you say, patting the mattress and offering a small, knowing smile.

Jungkook moves, crawling over you, pinning you down with his weight. He plants both hands at the sides of your head, his arms caging you in like he's making sure you can't go anywhere.

"Noona," he whispers. "Can I... can I kiss you again?"

“Mmm,” you breathe, tilting your head up and bringing your hands to his face, pulling him down to you.

“I need you,” he mutters against your lips.He begins to grind his hips. The hard, hot length of his cock rubs directly against your soaking pussy, and you can feel him twitching. “Please, noona... I need to be inside you so bad,” he whimpers, his hips snapping upward in a desperate attempt to get closer.

“You’re so impatient,” you tease, a laugh catching in your throat as you arch your back into him. “Is the big, bad bunny really that desperate? Are you going to be this whiny every time you want something?”

"Maybe," he gasps, his nose brushing against yours. “If it's you, then yes. Always.”

“You're lucky you're cute, Kook,” you murmur, watching him scramble for your approval. Sliding slightly on his lap, you let his hard length rub against your folds, teasing him just enough to make him squirm.

“I'll do whatever you want. I'll be so good, I'll do whatever you say.”

“Whatever I want... now that sounds like a good deal,” you murmur, trailing your fingers over the sharp line of his jaw. “Maybe I should make you wait just a little longer. Make you beg a bit more for it. You seem to be so good at it.”

Jungkook whines, grinding his hips even harder, the tip of him teasing your folds. He nips at your neck, hands roaming your body. 

Every motion, every teasing brush of his cock against you, makes your pulse race faster. You want him inside you so badly, but seeing him beg like this makes it even hotter.

“I'll die, noona,” he groans. “I'll actually die if I'm not inside you right now.” He continues to whine, the tip of his cock poking at your folds. “I need to be inside your pussy.”

You look at him, your own heart slamming against your ribs. You can’t take the begging anymore, not when you’re aching just as bad as he is. “Put it in, Kook.”

“Thank you, noona... thank you,” he breathes.

He maneuvers his large hands to your hips, lining himself up and pushing in, sliding back into your heat in one thrust.

“Ah, fuck! Noona! Oh God…” The moan that tears from his throat is so loud you're sure your next-door neighbor heard it. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his entire body shaking as he feels you surround him again.  “I… I can’t… So good”

“Move, Kook,” you whisper, your legs hooking around his waist to pull him deeper. “Move for me.”

He starts to pump his hips. As he moves, the silver chain around his neck drapes down, the metal dancing just above your eyes. You frame his face with your hands, your thumbs tracing his cheekbones as he leans down to press sweet kisses all over your cheeks and forehead.

“Is this okay? Does it feel good?” he asks, pushing deep. 

“It feels amazing,” you reassure him,even though the slow pace is driving you crazy. “But I need it harder, Jungkook. Don't you want to please your noona?”

“I want to do everything for you,” he growls. His grip on your hips tightens until his knuckles are white. “I'll give you whatever you want.”

“Then fuck me harder.”

Jungkook shifts his weight, gripping your wrists and pinning them to the mattress, holding you completely still. His chest presses against yours, sweat slicking his skin, hair falling into his eyes as he leans in close. The silver chain around his neck swings with every slam of his hips, and your body arches instinctively, craving more of him.

He adjusts his angle, snapping his hips upward so perfectly it hits that spot inside you you didn’t even know could feel this good. "Yes! Right there! Fuck, Jungkook, yes!" you cry, fingers digging into the sheets.

Every thrust makes you shiver. His hands slide from your wrists to your sides, pressing down, making it impossible to move. You’re gasping, moaning, lost in the way he’s taking you.

“You like that, noona?” he pants. “Do you like how I'm fucking you?”

He grins against your skin, watching your body react, listening to your moans like they’re music meant only for him.

“Yes… fuck! I love it!” you cry out, your head thrashing against the pillow while you arch your back to meet him. “Harder, Jungkook! Harder!”

“I don’t want to hurt you, noona,” he rasps.

"I like a bit of pain, Jungkook. Don’t hold back." you whisper.

He bites his lip and he pulls almost all of himself out before slamming back in. Your walls clench around him. “Oh fuck… yes!”

He keeps going, pulling almost all the way out again, then smashing back in, harder this time. His cock hits so deep your stomach clenches. “Do you like it like this, noona?” he asks. “Does it feel good when I hit you this hard?”

"Yes, yes! God, Kook, it’s so good!" you sob, your fingers digging into the sheets. Since you’ve realized by now that he has a major praise kink, you lean your head back and cry out, “Your cock feels amazing, Jungkook! You’re so big...”

The words seem to electrify him, his pace becoming even more frantic as he tries to chase the high of your approval. “Really? I’m... I’m doing it right for you?”

You smile up at him, your hands sliding up his sweat-slicked chest to his shoulders as you murmur, “Mmm, Kook. The best I’ve ever had.”

“Better than Taehyung?”

The question catches you completely off guard, wondering how he could possibly know about your history with the tiger hybrid. You don't let the surprise slow you down, instead tightening your hold on his shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes. “Yes, yes... so much better than him, oh God!”

His answer is driving into you even harder. “I’m close,” he groans, letting go of your wrists to cup the sides of your face, pulling you into him. “Noona… I’m so close.”

“Me too, Kook,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his damp hair, your chest pressing into his as your own climax starts to overtake you.

He drives into you harder, each thrust sharper, faster, as if trying to memorize every inch of your body, until your muscles clamp down around him.

“Noona!” Your walls clench around him, and you both spiral over the edge together.

Jungkook collapses onto you, his weight pinning you to the bed, but he quickly recovers enough to roll the both of you over. He keeps you tucked against him, shifting until you’re draped over his chest.

The knot keeps him buried deep inside you, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you exactly where he wants you: filled and claimed.

Jungkook seems mostly like himself again. While you know the cycle isn't over yet, the release from the last few hours has granted him a window of clarity. He’s lying there, looking at you with literal googly eyes. 

You reach out to run your fingers through his damp hair. The strands are soft, falling in loose waves thanks to that perm he’d been hesitant to try. He’d doubted it at first, worried it wouldn’t suit him, but you’d pushed him, told him it would make him look even more handsome. And damn, you were right. 

“What?” you murmur with a tired smile tugging at your lips.

He leans into your touch, letting you tangle your fingers through the soft waves. “Nothing,” he answers. “Just... you're really pretty, noona.”

You huff a laugh, your cheeks warming. As the knot finally recedes, he slides out of you, almost soft now, but not quite. You know the heat is still humming under his skin, waiting for the next spike, but for now, the quiet is a relief.

A yawn stretches his jaw, and his eyelids begin to droop. The physical toll of the night is finally winning.

“Sleepy, Kook?”

“Mmh,” he grunts, already shifting.

He moves behind you, pulling you back against his chest. His thick, muscled arm drapes over your waist, his hand coming to rest firmly over your breast. “Can we sleep like this? I like having you close. I don't want to let go.”

“We can sleep like this, Kook,” you answer, settling back into him. "I'm not going anywhere.”

You can feel his half-hard length tucked between your asscheeks. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his nose brushing against the skin behind your ear.

Before sleep can claim you, you stare out at the shadows on the wall. You’ve crossed a line that’s been there for far too long. You’ve tasted your best friend, and you’ve let him see exactly how much you wanted him.

You feel him twitch against your back, the small jerks of his muscles telling you he’s already asleep. As Jungkook lets out a long sigh and tightens his grip on you, you push the thought away. 

That’s a problem for future you to solve. Right now, you’re warm and you’re safe, so you let your eyes drift shut.

When you wake up in the dark, you feel Jungkook hands on your body, fingers rolling and pinching your puffy, swollen nipples.

His cock is rock-hard, dragging teasingly against your ass, twitching with every tiny movement. His breathing is shallow, his lips parting as he nuzzles into your hair.

“Kook?” you mumble, tilting your head toward him, a moan slipping out as he tugs at your nipple. “Back for more already… huh?” you tease, a lazy, sleepy smirk tugging at your lips.

“I… I can’t help it, noona,” he whimpers.

“You’re being so naughty, Kook,” you tease with a smirk tugging at your lips. “Waking up your noona in the middle of the night just because you're needy?”

He nudges his face into your hair, his grip on your waist tightening. “I tried to be good, noona. I really did. I tried to go back to sleep and leave you alone, but I’m dying. I can't stop thinking about how you felt. It’s all I can see when I close my eyes.”

“Oh, really?” you murmur. “My poor, tortured bunny. You spent all that time lying here wanting me while I was dreaming?”

Reaching back, your hand finds his hard cock, fingers wrapping slowly around his length as your thumb traces over the swollen head before tightening into a firm squeeze. “Is all of this for me, Kook?” you ask.

He looks so sweet like this, a massive man reduced to a pleading mess. “Everything is for you,” he answers, his voice trembling as he reaches out to pull you closer.

“Then tell me what you want,” you whisper, idly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Shifting your weight, you guide him just enough for the tip to brush against your entrance, but stop there, denying him sliding inside. Instead, your hand keeps working on him with a firm grip, moving it slowly up and down his shaft.

“Go on,” you murmur softly. “Say it properly.”

“I want to fuck my noona,” he groans, his hands coming up to squeeze your tits as his hips twitch. “I want to feel you around me again. I want to stretch you open and bury myself in your pussy. I want to taste you too, noona. I want to eat your pussy until you’re screaming my name and then I want to fill you with my cum over and over.”

“Mmm? You want to do all of that to me? So greedy,” you murmur.

“I’m greedy for you, noona,” he pants. “I want to feel you all over me… I want to kiss every inch of you, taste you, hear you scream my name… I want to be lost inside you, noona, only inside you.”

You bite your lip, heart racing at how desperate he sounds.

“Just please, noona. Put it in. I need to be inside you.”

You move your hips, arching and opening up to give him what he wants, helping him put more of his cock inside you until you're completely filled.

A moan slips from your lips at the stretch. “God… Kook,” you whisper, your nails digging lightly into his shoulders, “that feels so good.”

Sinking his full length into your wet heat, he keeps his face pressed into the crook of your neck, his mouth pressing kisses against your skin as he pounds into you. His hips hit yours over and over, until you're both gasping.

“God, noona,” he groans, his hips moving in slow circles. “You feel so good. I can't get over how tight you are, you're so warm.”

At his words, you clench your inner muscles around him, pulling him even deeper.

He’s talking even more now. "I want to stay inside you forever," he mutters, his hand sliding down to find your clit. "I want to wake up with you still wrapped around me. I want to feel you gripping my cock all night long." He begins to grind his hips in slow circles.

"You talk so much when you're horny, Kook," you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as his thumb begins to work over your nub. "You're going to talk me into another orgasm if you keep going."

"I want to," he whispers and you feel his breath against your ear. "I want to hear you come just from my voice. I want to tell you everything I’m feeling so you know exactly what you do to me."

You turn your head slightly, catching his eye in the shadows. He looks at you with an intensity you can’t quite name, but he’s smiling at you with a softness that makes your chest ache.

"You're perfect," he whispers. You try to avoid thinking about those words and focus on him instead. "You're so good... you feel so good, noona. I never want to leave. I'm going to stay right here until the sun comes up."

He keeps thrusting, his movements getting faster and more aggressive as he leans over to kiss you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours.

"I'm close, Kook! Don't stop!" you cry out, your fingers digging into his forearms.

Jungkook only grits his teeth in response, driving into you even harder, his hips snapping against your ass with a loud, wet smack each time he thrusts forward.

A moan spills from your lips as your walls suddenly clamp down around him, your orgasm crashing through you. Jungkook follows almost instantly, burying himself as deep as he can as he fills you with his release.  "Such a good boy, Kook. You did so well for me."

At the base, his knot begins to swell, slowly expanding until it locks the two of you together in the quiet dark.

Instead of pulling away, Jungkook simply wraps his arms around you, drawing your back tightly against his chest so he can keep himself buried deep inside you. He holds you there, anchored to him, his breathing gradually slowing as sleep begins to take over again, unwilling to let you go even for a second.

When you wake later, the sun is just starting to peek through the curtains. You can still feel the stretch of him inside you, but the moment you stir, Jungkook shifts behind you and finally pulls back. 

You expected to feel relief after having him buried in you all night, but instead… it’s emptiness. You miss him. The way he fit inside you perfectly. God, what if you are addicted to this? To him? To the way he makes you feel?

"Morning, noona," he murmurs. His voice is raspy.

"What time is it?" you ask. But you don’t get an answer.

Jungkook grabs your hips and pulls you until you're flat on your back in the center of the bed. He crawls up your body, hovering over you with his arms braced on either side of your head as his eyes search for yours.

"You look so beautiful," he whispers, his thumb tracing your bottom lip with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. He smiles, "I don't think I ever want to let you out of this bed."

"I think I'm spoiling you too much, giving you everything you want." you say back, running your hands over his shoulders and down his back.

He chuckles softly, as he leans down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His hand slides from your face down to your waist, pulling you close against him. "Can I..." He pauses, biting down on his lip ring as his gaze drops to the space between your thighs. "Can I eat you, noona? I’ve been thinking about it all night while you were asleep."

You bite your bottom lip, “Hmm… yeah” you murmur.

You watch him as he starts to move. He takes his time, keeping his eyes on yours as he leans down to kiss your tits. He swirls his tongue around your nipples, sucking the peaks into his mouth until you’re a moaning mess.

"Mmm, yes... so good, Kook," you moan. He smiles against your skin at the praise, his teeth catching and giving your nipple a playful bite. You let out a scream of pure pleasure at the sudden sting. "You told me you liked it rough, noona," Jungkook murmurs as he looks up at you.

“I did,”you breathe, arching your back toward him.

He moves lower, pausing at your hip. A smile tugs at his lips before he presses a kiss against the delicate star tattoo on your skin. He traces the points of the star with the tip of his tongue, then finally moves to kneel between your legs.

You’re swollen and soaked, his seed still coating your folds. Reaching out, Jungkook uses one finger to catch a stray drip of his cum and slowly pushes it back inside you.

"You took so much cum," he praises, his eyes locked on yours. His fingers curl around your hips to pull you just a little closer, "You're so good, noona. So perfect. I've been dreaming about doing this to you for so long." 

You blink, wondering if you heard that right, but the exhaustion is making your brain too foggy to think.

"I want to please you. I want to make you feel as good as you made me," he whispers, and leans, pausing as he hovers just inches away. 

You can feel his breath against your skin, but he seems a bit hesitant, his eyes darting to yours as you realize this might be his first time doing anything like this. 

“It's okay, Kook,” you murmur, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair and gently tilting his head forward.

His tongue is hot as he licks from the bottom of your opening all the way up to your clit and captures it between his lips, sucking until your hips buck. "God, yes, just like that," you moan, your head hitting the mattress while you guide his movements with your hands on his head. "A little faster, Kook... you're doing perfectly."

He plunges two fingers inside you while using his other hand to spread you wide, keeping his mouth busy and licking and sucking at you until you’re writhing against the sheets.

"Yes! Fuck, Jungkook, right there!" you sob, your fingers digging into his hair. "Are you sure this is your first time?"

Jungkook pauses, his voice muffled. “I just want to make you happy, noona,” before diving back in with even more focus.

"You're such a talented little bunny, aren't you? Using that mouth so well." You pull his hair slightly, forcing him to look up at you while he’s still buried between your thighs. His fingers pumping quickly while his tongue never leaves your clit. "Yes! Oh my God, yes!"

Jungkook keeps lapping at your clit, his tongue relentless even as you start to climax. He ignores your weak attempts to push him away, his fingers driving into you deeper and faster until your thighs finally go still and you’re left shaking.

When he finally pulls back, he looks up at you, his face smeared and wet. He wears a look of immense pride, a smug, satisfied grin on his lips as he watches you try to find your breath.

After your orgasm, you finally find your voice. "Come here, Kook," you command. 

He crawls up the bed to kneel by your head.

You look at his cock and reach out, wrapping your hand around the base before taking him into your mouth. You suck him slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his. 

Not being able to take all of him from this angle, you just focus on the head, your tongue swirling around the tip while you pump him with your hand.

One of his hands goes to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. "Noona, your mouth feels so good," he groans. His other hand finds your breasts, taking turns at them, tugging at your nipples. His touch is confident now. His fingers slide lower, grazing over your swollen clit as he starts to rub.

You keep sucking but Jungkook suddenly grips your stops. "Noona... wait," he gasps. "I- I want…"

You pull back, your lips glistening. You lean in to lick the side of his length, looking up at him. "What do you want, Kook? Tell me."

He looks away. "I... I don't know..."

"Yes, you do. Don't lie to me," you tease. You drag your tongue slowly up the side of his shaft, making him jerk. "If you don't tell me what you want, I can't give it to you. Should we just stop?"

"No!" he gasps. "I want to be inside you. I want to feel you around me when I cum."

"Good boy," you whisper, giving his cock one last, slow lick before you let him go. You give him a quick kiss, before you shift onto your hands and knees.

The bed creaks as you crawl toward the foot of the mattress. You’re facing the window now, the first light of the sunrise catching your skin as you present your ass to him. You look over your shoulder, arching your back with a provocative little wiggle. "What are you waiting for, Kook? Come here and fuck your noona the way you like it. Or do I have to do everything myself?"

He doesn't need to be told twice. He lunges, settling behind you and claiming your hips with his hands. His fingers dig in and knead the flesh of your asscheeks, making you squirm against him. He grabs his cock and rubs the head against your slit, smearing your mess everywhere until you’re whining for it.

"You're getting awfully bold, aren't you?" you chide, glancing back at him with a lazy, teasing smirk. "Thinking you can just toy with me?"

"Sorry, noona…" he murmurs, almost sheepishly as he shoves his entire length inside you. You scream as he bottoms out. He pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in again.

"Do you want it harder?" he growls. "I'll give you everything you want."

You moan, surprised at how quickly he’s reading your body and how fast he’s catching every little thing that pleasures you. You can't help but wonder how he's managed to figure you out so effortlessly, as if he’s been studying you for years instead of just hours. 

“Yes… yes!” Your fingers dig into the sheets, nails leaving little trails as your hips lift to meet him. "Harder, Jungkook! Fucking hit me harder!"

He obliges, pulling nearly all the way out and slamming into you with an explosive strength that steals your breath."Oh my fucking god, Kook! Yes!"

He hits that spot again until you swear you see stars. "Does it feel good, noona?" he pants. "Tell me it feels good."

"Yes!," you moan. "You're doing so good. Such a– fuck!" You’re cut off as he delivers a thrust so deep it hits your cervix. "Such a good bunny... fucking me so hard..."

He leans down, pressing his chest flat against your back. Your hands finally give up, and you have to lay your head against the mattress. "Am I being good? Am I doing it right for you?"

"You're being perfect," you sob, your head moving against the pillows. "So good... so big... fuck."

He gets bolder with every stroke. One hand leaves your hip to grab your tit, squeezing it hard while his breath burns against your neck.

"I'm going to breed you, noona," he whispers into your ear.

You know bunnies are pre-wired to breed, and even though you're on the pill, you want to give that fantasy to him. “Yeah?”

“I'm going to put so much seed in you," he says, his voice strained. "I'm going to fill you up, noona. I'm going to make you so full of me that you can't think of anyone else. You’re going to be mine. I'm going to knot you so deep you'll never forget how this feels."

He’s relentless, burying himself to the hilt over and over until you’re nothing but a shaking mess beneath him.

"I want to see you," he mutters. "I want to see your face when I fill you up."

After pulling out, he shifts and maneuvers you gently until he’s lying on his back, then pulls you onto his lap so you’re facing him. As you settle there, you slowly lower yourself onto him, taking your time until you finally bottom out and remain still.

You look at him, and for a second, the world feels very small. He looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists right now.

"You're so pretty," he whispers. “So pretty.”

His words come out in a way that makes you think it’s not just the heat talking. You aren't able to look him in the eye right now. It’s too raw, too real. 

Suddenly hit with a wave of shyness, you duck your head and hide your face in the crook of his neck as you lean down to kiss him. You can feel him trembling beneath you, his heart hammering against your chest.

"Move, noona," he begs against your mouth. "Please move."

You begin to lift your hips, pulling up until he’s almost fully out, before slamming back down again. As you do, you watch his expression crumble, his eyes shutting while you control the way you slide against him.

He reaches for your tits, his mouth catching your nipple and sucking hard. You grab his hair, tugging his head closer to your chest while you ride him.

"I'm going to breed you," he growls again against your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before he adds, "I'm going to put my pups inside you, noona. I want to watch you swell with my seed until you're completely full of me."

"Yes, Kook," you pant, leaning down to his ear. "Breed me. Fill me up. Be a good bunny and put all that cum inside me."

"I will," he promises, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. "I'll fill you so full it'll be the only thing you feel. You're mine... only mine." He starts bucking his hips up to meet you, gasping, "Tell me you're mine! Say it, please!"

"Yes... yes, I'm yours! Oh, Kook, I love you so much! I love you! I'm yours!"

He loses what's left of his control. His hips slam upward, driving into you with everything he has. You climax first, but you keep bouncing. You’re exhausted, your legs are shaking, but you keep moving your hips.

A loud cry rips from him as he cums deep inside you, his knot swelling and locking you together. You can feel him shivering, and you can’t help yourself and lean up and press your lips to his.

Your fingers dig into his damp hair, tugging him closer, and you kiss him like you might lose him if you stop. You want him. You want all of him. Even now, even like this, you can’t get enough.

His arms are locked around your waist, holding you against his chest when his eyes suddenly clear as he snaps back to reality. He pulls back, his brow furrowing as he searches your face. "What did you say?" he whispers. "Right before... when we were..."

Your heart stops as you realize what you let slip in the heat of the moment. I love you.

"I– I didn't say anything!" you stammer. You immediately try to scramble off his lap, your hands pushing against his shoulders, but his grip on your waist is like iron. You’re locked in place, still physically connected to him. "Kook, let me up. We need to... we should probably–"

"I heard you," Jungkook interrupts. He doesn't let you budge an inch. "You said you loved me. You said it more than once."

“Forget it!” you snap. You cover your face with your hands, a groan of pure mortification escaping you. "Just forget it, Jungkook! I was... I was out of my mind. It was the moment! People say things they don't mean when they're–"

“You're going to blame the moment?" he asks, his eyebrows shooting up. "You forget I’m the one in heat, noona? My head is the one that's supposed to be messy, not yours.”

“Well, maybe it's contagious!” you fire back, desperate to find some ground to stand on. “Just... please, Kook. Let's just act like it didn't happen. We can go back to normal. We'll get breakfast and forget I ever opened my mouth.”

I fucked it up, you think, your mind spiraling. Twenty years of friendship down the drain.

"Why should I forget it?" he asks. There’s no mockery in his tone.

"Because it's complicated!" you cry, finally dropping your hands to glare at him through watery eyes. "Because we're best friends, you're in heat and I wasn't supposed to say that! It's a mess, Kook. I messed everything up and I–"

"You didn't mess anything up," he says softly while reaching up, his large hand cupping your jaw and forcing you to look into his eyes as he whispers, "Because I love you, too."

The air leaves your lungs in a rush. You stare at him, your mouth falling open. "You... you what?"

"Why do you think Sohee and I never went further?" he asks, a lopsided smile touching his lips.

"I don't know," you breathe. "You said you weren't ready, or that it didn't feel right..."

“It didn't feel right because it wasn't you,” he confesses as his thumb traces your cheekbone. “I tried, noona. I tried with her, and I tried with others after her, but I couldn't do it. I'd be with them, and my brain would just shut down. My body literally wouldn't let me. I couldn't even stay hard for them because every time I closed my eyes, I was looking for you. I couldn't stand the thought of giving this part of myself to anyone who wasn’t you."

As he says those words, Jungkook searches your face for any sign of rejection while his heart beats like it’s going to come out of his chest. It’s a lot to process, realize how much time you both wasted being afraid.

"When I noticed I'd forgotten the suppressants, I panicked and called Jimin," he admits, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. He was the one who told me to stop being a coward and just go to your house. I was terrified, noona, but I knew it was the only place I wanted to be."

"That little traitor," you murmur with a small, breathless laugh, and even though you're calling him out, you make a mental note to send him a ball of yarn or whatever cat hybrids like as a thank you, before shaking your head and adding, "I can't believe he set us up like that."

"I'm glad he did," Jungkook whispers, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "I love you. I really do."

You’re trembling now, reaching up to tangle your fingers in the silver chain around his neck and pulling him closer until your noses brush. "You're serious? You're not just saying that because your hormones are doing things on you?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he vows, leaning in to kiss you deeply. You kiss him back, your heart racing as you finally let yourself melt into him, and he murmurs against your lips, "I love you, noona."

"I love you too, Kook," you answer, and start moving your hips again. His hands slide down to grip your ass, pulling you firmly against him while you wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close, the silver chain cold against your skin as it swings between your bodies.

He leans in to kiss you again. "And…I'm sorry about... everything I said before," he mutters, looking at you. “About breeding you. My head just went completely crazy for a second. I didn't mean to go that far.”

You let out a laugh, leaning forward to nip at his earlobe while your hips keep their slow, torturous grind. “Don’t be sorry,”  you whisper against him, teasing, “Mmm… maybe not right now, Kook, but someday… who knows? You might just get your wish.” 

m.list ☆ jungkook m.list ☆ join my taglist!

“Always, baby. It’s the comfiest hoodie ever and I know how much effort you put into making them amazing for the fans…” Jungkook’s grin became even wider as you spoke – if that were even physically possible.

“Also–" You paused and sucked in a deep breath, "I was gonna wait until you were here but the package was addressed to both of us so I may have accidentally opened some samples we got from calvin kleeeein,” You sheepishly jumped up from your desk, showing off the recently delivered bikini briefs that you couldn’t wait to try on.

"How cute do they look?!"

You were proud of BTS and Jungkook’s professional accomplishments and creative projects but you’d particularly enjoyed his campaign for Calvin Klein… for obvious reasons. 

“I was not prepared for this!" He gasped before narrowing his tired eyes and lowering his raspy voice, "Damn, you look so good…” He drawled, clearly enjoying the view.

“What else you wearing?”

Jungkook knew he was testing his luck, eyebrows suggestively wiggling, knowing very well how late it was where you were but here he was, clinging to the hope that you missed him like he missed you. Your soft skin, your lips, the way you looked wrapped around him, moaning his name into his neck. You were the singular thought that consumed him always, but especially now.

You flipped him the middle finger and grabbed your laptop before plonking down in your messy bed. It was hard to find the motivation to do anything when Jungkook was away. Some days were easier than others and some were just simply shit. Today was one of those days.

“That is absolutely none of your business because you're not here,” You retorted, pout present and prominent on your sullen face.

You didn't mean it to sound snarky, because you missed him desperately – to the point where you hadn't slept properly in weeks, but the tone definitely wasn't jovial. Jungkook had sensed the growing resentment that had been festering away during your last couple of calls together. Each one getting more and more... depressing.

So he sighed and sunk further back into the couch, eyes softening from playful to serious, knowing how fucking horrible it was being away for this long. “You know I’d be there–"

“If you could be… I know,” You finished his sentence in a whisper, a sentence that was all too familiar lately.

He was working harder than ever, pushing himself to breaking point for the tour and you worried. Not just about his physical health but his mental health too. You'd aired your concerns about his unattainable workload late one night, when you were both at your wits' end – definitely not your best timing. And naturally, it ended in a fight. It was the worst fight the two of you had ever experienced as a couple and you vowed then to swallow your feelings going forward.

And so here you were, putting on a smile, hoping that Jungkook – your twin flame – wouldn't notice how miserable you really were. Wishful thinking.

“It’s only a week until you’re back so I can’t complain too much.”

“You can complain all day, every day, baby. Don’t hide how you’re feeling because of me. I can handle it,” He firmly reassured with a sweetness to his voice that made you feel at home, at ease.

"I love you." Your heart always skipped a beat when he affirmed his love for you, those three little words holding so much power and so much hope.

You paused for a second to take in the man on your screen. The weary smile he offered and sleepy doe-eyes were glowing under the Madrid sun. His freckled, sun-kissed cheeks made him seem healthy and rested but you could see the circles darkening under his sweet eyes – a tell-tale sign that he was due for a break. You missed the way he launched his entire body onto yours when he laughed, somehow finding your worst joke the funniest he'd ever heard. And when your hands subconsciously clasped together while you watched a movie, just like when you first started dating always made your heart flutter.

He was the embodiment of sexy. Everything he did had you feeling a certain way and even now, thousands of miles away, he had you regretting your decision to turn down his offer to fly you out to Spain for the week.

How could you be so stupid.

“I love you too but I don’t think you can handle it, is the thing…” You countered back, raspy voice and bottom lip secured between your front teeth, “I have a really long list of complaints written down here, each one naughtier than the last.”

“Uh-oh,” Jungkook slyly replied through gritted teeth, shuffling on the couch with a smirk dancing on his lips, “Wanna tick off a couple of those complaints with me now or do I have to wait until I’m home?”

He hesitantly asked the question, praying he might get a taste of what was to come but you simply shrugged and placed down your laptop, “You might wanna close those curtains behind you, lover boy.”

Jungkook was up like a shot, dumping his phone – and you, on the couch as he frantically rushed around his apartment, doing as you asked. He didn’t care about how desperate he looked, hell – you’d had him on his knees begging for it so many times before. The ‘playing it cool’ phase of your relationship was over and now you could be exactly who you wanted to be – unadulterated deviants.

And you loved it.

“Alright – lemme just turn this off,” He mumbled before the living room ascended into darkness, making your eyebrows furrow with curiosity.

“What are you doing?” You asked, a little confused until it dawned on you, “Are you setting the mood for yourself?”

All of sudden you were back upright in Jungkook’s hand, immediately noticing his flushed face and cheeky grin before his voice dropped an octave – almost as if he was telling you his deepest, darkest secret.

“Well– if you must know, I was going to… take care of myself if you know what I mean… and then you called so this is way, way, way better,” He admitted with a cocky smile, shuffling himself forward on the couch and quickly swiping a book so he could prop his phone up, going handsfree.

“What were you going to watch?” You asked while pulling your hair out of the tight claw-clip that was giving you a headache, never failing to notice his adam's apple bounce around his throat as he chuckled – the glimpse of embarrassment quickly replaced by an upwind of confidence.

“Dunno actually,” He shrugged and clasped his hands behind his neck, watching every little reaction he could pull from you with great intrigue, “Probably would’ve messaged you for a recommendation. You know what I like.”

Your skin always tingled at the thought of Jungkook watching... videos. He was a visual guy, someone who needed something to get him off and because you were physically apart so much, it was only fair that he took it upon himself sometimes. More often than not he could get you on the phone, spurring him on with the filthiest moans imaginable but if not, a little bit of a helping hand never hurt anybody. In fact, you kind of liked the idea of him moaning your name while he watched other people fuck. Maybe it was twisted, but it turned you on.

“Always happy to help you in your hour of need, honey.” 

You’d activated your sultry voice and the lip bite he loved so much, noticing Jungkook’s hands that were now in his lap, ever so slightly flinch at your words, fidgeting with anticipation and wanting to touch himself so badly it hurt. But he knew better than to start without you.

“Cute that you think I’d last an hour – I may not even clock a couple a minutes with the way you’re looking at me right now,” He practically groaned, throat drying up and eyes darting across his screen, “I wanna see you properly, honey. I miss you so much.”

“Oh, really?” You taunted lowly and began peeling off your hoodie, leaving you in nothing but your freshly delivered bikini briefs. You knew how much he missed you because you felt the exact same way, but where was the fun if you weren't teasing him just a little bit.

“What do you miss exactly?”

Jungkook’s words hitched in his throat when he tried to speak. He’d seen you like this so many times before, yet there was still a nervous chill that ran down his spine. It must’ve been cold back home, he thought when he saw a trail of goosebumps erupting across your soft, supple skin, the light of your laptop perfectly illuminating your blushed and hardening nipples. Either you were cold or you were as turned on as he was. That thought alone sent his mind into overdrive.

“What a sight for sore eyes, you are my love – holy shit.” 

You stifled a giggle and sat back against the head of your bed, hands cupping your breasts and fingertips every so gently rolling your nipples between them, igniting that dormant knot deep inside your stomach. It was subtle but you could already feel it building as his hands pressed firmly down in his lap, grey track pants covering what you craved to feel – or at the very least to see.

“I wanna see my tattoo, baby – that always turns me on,” You moaned in reply, encouraging your unbelievably beautiful boyfriend to strip for you. 

Of course he indulged you and angled his hips up so he could pull down his pants, revealing that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath – and there they were; your initials black, bold and forever etched into his taut thigh, hidden in the shape of a red heart and nestled amongst his other colourful works of art. The letter J was hidden on your ribs and surrounded by a delicate honeysuckle flower; a symbol of his eternal love.

You would fly to the moon and back for that man, souls connected for life, but in that moment, all you cared about was how outrageously hot he looked standing naked in his hotel room, smiling from ear to ear. He loved himself sick but somehow, over all the ego and boyishness, you loved him even more.

“Wow, commando and already hard for me. How did I get so lucky?”

Jungkook kicked off his pants and flung himself back down on the couch before gripping his cock in his hand, tattooed fingers tightly constricting as he tapped on his screen to bring you back up, “Because you’re really hot.”

A soft moan slipped from his throat as he brushed his thumb over the pre-cum dripping from his tip, “fuuuck,” He mumbled and threw his head back against the couch, “You’re gonna have to catch up ‘cause I’m struggling over here already.”

You gave him a knowing nod and followed suit by ridding yourself of your underwear, teasingly licking your fingertips and trailing them down your stomach. You could see Jungkook peeking through hooded eyes, not being able to control the urge to look but immediately grimacing when he watched your fingers slip between your thighs, hearing a mumbled, yet deep moan in your airpods as you softly gasped from the sensation.

His hand was slowly rolling up and down his stiff cock, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to formulate a sentence. He was losing his grip and as much as he hated rushing the process, needed you to hurry it along if you wanted to ride out the high together.

He whispered your name, gently dragging your attention away from how good your fingers felt and back to him again, “Use the thing I bought you. You know? The black one.”

“Really?”

“Fuck yeah.” Jungkook breathed and slowed down his pace significantly, patiently waiting for you to get to where he was, “I wanna see those pretty eyes rolling so far into the back of your head that you’re seeing stars for days.”

If you weren’t already soaked to the core, you were now. Before one of Jungkook’s many trips overseas, he had the genius idea of buying you a vibrator. He needed you to feel good without him and wanted to make sure you were satisfied when he couldn’t be there to do it himself. Naturally, it was a huge hit with you and it slowly became a tradition – every time he went away on business or on tour, he would buy you a little something before he left. 

The most recent gift he’d given you was probably his best one yet – a discretely designed, black clit stimulator that got you from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. It was a fucking miracle worker and even Jungkook, who always had you screaming bloody murder, was a little jealous of what it could do. But he'd grown to love it as much as you did – especially when he had you overstimulated and clenching around his cock, begging for mercy.

“This thing is so good that I could literally cum just by looking at it.”

You were half-joking as you leaned over and rummaged around in your draw of goodies, looking for the one he had suggested. They were never far from your reach whenever he was away, or when he was home to be perfectly honest. You never knew when they would be called upon in the heat of the moment – but right now you were buzzing with excitement.

Your eyes had to readjust to the brightness of your screen again and you noticed Jungkook still stiff as a rock in his palm, guzzling a glass of water to quench his thirst while he waited, “Watching you use that vibrator lives rent free in my head and fuck me, it’s a sight.”

“Nothing gets me off better than you do, baby. That damn tongue of yours has me screaming way louder than this thing ever has,” You praised your man and positioned your phone back up on your bedside table.

It wasn't the most comfortable angle having to crane your neck on your pillow to see him build back up to where he was before this unexpected intermission. But you were tired and too desperate for that sweet, sweet release to care. 

“I’ve been witness to you finishing with both, and the toy wins easy,” He hummed, “I’m not mad about it though – whatever's gonna get you there is all that matters to me. Actually, speaking of…” He paused and leaned closer to his phone.

“I’m not fuckin' around at 4 in the morning just to see the side of your head, as gorgeous as it may be. I’m gonna need you to spread it out for me before we start this up again honey, c'mon now,” He playfully ordered and clapped his hands together with a devilish smile.

“Chop, chop.”

How he could be silly, yet so astonishingly sexy at the same time was a mystery. Even after all this time – you still didn’t have an answer.

“Alright, James Cameron. What are we doing here?” You teased back and rearranged yourself and your pillows, eternally aspiring to make his viewing experience gold class worthy.

“Oooo,” Jungkook purred, “A Titanic role-play would be so hot. But I’mma be rose, obviously,” He quipped with a knowing smirk. You threw your head back with a raspy laugh as you traced your fingers down between your shaky thighs, lazily spreading your wetness around.

“Obviously." You winked, "It would be an honour to paint you like one of my French girls darling,” You bantered back, licking your lips and switching your toy onto its first, delicious setting. 

As soon as you hovered it above your swollen clit, you knew you were a goner. And that feeling was only intensified when you managed to open your eyes and see Jungkook watching you intently, a small smile tugging on the corners of his glistening lips. 

“Gonna feel so good, baby.”

“I’m not gonna last long.”

“Same,” He groaned before he licked his palm and resumed his tight grasp around what you could only imagine was now his furiously throbbing cock. “But I’m right here – wishing I was there – fucking you so good.”

“No one does me better than you do, Kookie.”

It was only a few beats before a loud whine slipped past your chapped, parted lips, the whirring of your toy rapidly ripping moan after moan from your dry throat. Jungkook chuckled through his pleasure, chewing on his lip ring and willing himself to hold on until he could see you were close – but every vision of you making yourself cum made it so much harder for him to get a grip.

“Let it do all the work for you, honey. Just hold it there like I do when I’m filling you up. making you shake,” Jungkook whispered the last part of his sentence and got exactly what he needed in return.

“Oh god, I want to feel you so bad, baby–”

You were groaning. loudly. But even in your overstimulated haze, you did as you were told, the intense vibrations sending you into a complete state of ecstasy. As hard as it was to push through the urge of losing total control of your body, you never pulled away, feeling like you were about to float off into space, never to be seen again. Holding, holding, holding. Unrelenting.

“I – fuck, it just feels so,” Sharp gasp.

“Fucking,” Deep breath.

“Good.” And you were coming. Hard.

“That’s my girl,” Jungkook sighed and let the groans tumble from his throat, reams of his own pleasure spilling out onto his stomach and even as far as his thumping chest, "That's fuckin' it – damn." 

It was a mess worth making, he thought to himself every time. To see you laid back, spread out, twitching from the feeling of pure bliss was worth every scrap of clean up he’d have to do – he could look at you like that for the rest of his days. Completely spent.

“How are you feeling over there?” Jungkook’s crackling voice broke the comfortable silence as he watched you curl up and close your legs, blush roaring red across your naked body as you took in his sweet smile and his own glistening chest. 

“Fantastic,” You smiled and wiped your watery eyes, “Definitely seeing stars,” You flirted, recounting his words from only minutes earlier and finally taking a moment to drink him in.

“I love seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” He asked, curious.

“Soft... sweaty and sticky. It’s a close second for me.”

“Second to what?”

“Your handsome face between my legs… or when you cook. Funnily enough, both of those things make me feel the exact same way about you,” You pondered out loud, making Jungkook laugh at how absurd that sounded to him.

“Hold up,” He interrupted your rambling, “Me cooking gives you the same feeling as when I’m eating you out? That can’t be right – I’m doing something horribly wrong then!” Now it was your turn to watch him try and process your words, brows scrunching together in deep thought as he scrambled for it to make sense.

You shrugged, “Pretty much. You look stupidly sexy doing both.”

A 'wow' was all Jungkook could muster as he watched you roll over naked in your shared bed and reach for the hoodie you’d thrown on the floor for dramatic effect earlier, “None of what you just said makes sense but what I do know is that nothing looks as sexy as you do in that hoodie.”

“Steady on, Jeon. It’s starting to feel like deja vu,” You playfully teased and straightened your back against the bedhead again, avoiding a full-circle moment.

“So anyways, where were we before you whipped your dick out?” You paused and Jungkook scoffed out a loud laugh, wondering what the hell you were on about before you gasped.

“Ah! I remember – Calvin Klein! So…”

And off you went on your tangent about how cute the underwear they had sent you both were while he dragged himself up from his couch and into the cold shower that he so desperately needed. He laughed along, ranted along and passively agreed with everything you were saying. He loved you and he loved listening to your inner dialogue that always seemed to make an appearance whenever you were over tired, which you were.

“You need to sleep, baby. I’ll call you in the morning,” Jungkook sweetly said before glancing at the world clock on his phone, “Well, it’s already tomorrow where you are too but you know what I mean… Go have beautiful dreams about your amazing boyfriend and his massive–”

“Stoooop!” You interrupted and rolled your eyes for the millionth time, “I will by the way. It’s all I’m with you for.”

Jungkook couldn't help but laugh out loud at your definitely 100% truthful confession and nearly shook his head off his own shoulders as he composed himself – he had really lucked out with this one, he thought to himself.

“You are so bad, my girl.”

“You made me this way.”

He wriggled his eyebrows and blew you a kiss, “You bet I did. Love ya, honey. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams, Kookie.”

“wait for me baby, don't go anywhere.”

that was what your boyfriend jungkook had rasped two hours ago after kissing you breathless enough to leave your legs shaky and then he ran back onstage.

you stood just off the main stage, your heart pounding in your chest, feeling the sexual desire wafting between you both even though he was away giving all his energy and power to singing and dancing with his members.

but you only got the version of him no one else got or knew about, the one who glanced toward you between songs, eyes locking on yours with a hunger that had nothing to do with the performance.

it was as if he were giving his own personal sultry show to you instead of thousands of fans screaming his name.

you watched a droplet of sweat trace a line down the middle of his chest almost pornographically, like it begged for your tongue to lick it right off and you wanted to so badly.

now during the short break after one of their songs, jungkook jogged offstage for a quick towel and water, his denim jacket with nothing underneath parted to show off his sweat slick muscular body, his jeans low enough to show off the tiny hint of his calvin klein underwear.

he tossed the towel aside and made a beeline straight for you, ignoring the staff calling after him.

“fuck i've been thinking about you the whole time.”

his voice was husky from singing, a little breathless as well, he grabbed your wrist impatiently before you could even reply and pulled you deeper into the backstage down the corridor for more privacy.

“i can't focus when i know you're right there watching me.”

“jungkook the performance and the fans—”

you started but your protest melted into a gasp as he pushed you against the wall directly out of sight.

“they can handle the next song. i need you now.” he grumbles.

his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust and with pent up energy that he wants to take out on you.

he spun you around without waiting, pressing your chest against the wall, his front molding to your back as you felt the hard line of his erection already straining against his jeans.

“it's been hard since i saw this tight little ass in those jeans.”

“kook...”

you whimpered at his words, your back already arching for him, your eyes growing half lidded.

“god i love it when you call me that.” he rushes out.

his hands moved fast before you could even catch a breath, yanking your jeans and your panties down your thigh in one rough tug.

you could hear the cheers of the crowd and the beat of the music still playing, everything made you both feel alive and the thrill that you both might get caught at any second, yet instead of stopping you it made you hornier, your pussy giving a twitch.

“shitt you're already wet.”

jungkook groaned low, one hand sliding between your legs to tease your folds, feeling the copious amounts of arousal you leaked.

his fingers were so skilled, always knowing how to find your clit like an expert and it makes you shudder each time as he circles your clit once twice before dipping inside just enough to make your knees buckle but not fully inside, just giving you a little taste of what's about to come.

“all this for me hmm? while i was out there dancing?”

you bit your lip hard, nodding frantically.

“yes kook p-please...” you panted.

he chuckled as he grabbed your hips, leaning down to nip at your earlobe.

“atta girl, keep quiet for me yeah? can't have them hearing how i fuck my baby backstage.”

he pulled the zipper down, freeing himself, his cock hard and throbbing hotly, precum already beading at the tip.

he rubbed it along your slit coating himself in your essence, letting out a string of curses at the warm feeling of you.

there was no time for foreplay and time was running by fast and he had to join everyone on the stage so he didn't wanna waste any time.

jungkook was big, always had been and each time he decided to impale you on his cock, it felt like the very first time even though the stretch had gotten familiar.

“ahh... yes…”

you let out a long relieved whine at the feeling of him coming home inside you as he pushed in slowly inch by inch, intentionally letting you feel every ridge and vein of his dick and how he twitches inside you.

“fuuuuck...”

he hissed through gritted teeth, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he felt your pussy clench on him, welcoming him inside with a wet hungry swallow like it'd been dying for him to be inside.

his one hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, the other hand on the wall above your head.

“so tight, always so fucking perfect for me.”

he growls and grunts like a madman and you respond with a moan of yours.

he bottomed out with a deep,manly noise and he watched with hooded eyes at the way your ass quivers.

the fullness was overwhelming, his cock buried deep and pressing against that spot inside you that made you see stars behind your eyelids.

for a second he just stayed there, breathing hard, both of you listening to the crowd outside, then he started moving and you were already a squirmy mess.

backshots or whatever they called it.

receiving that from him always turns your brain to mush and it felt like he was literally rearranging your insides.

hard, quick, yet rough thrusts that only happened when he was trying to make you cum fast and with each thrust from him, you rocked harder against the wall, your hand scrambling to grab onto something and not being able to help yourself, you gripped his hand tightly, your nails digging into it and the pain fueled him even more.

the angle was perfect and with every thrust he reached that special spot inside you.

his hips moved like a needle does on a sewing machine, your tongue lolls out lewdly, almost drooling in the mindless pleasure.

squelch. squelch. squelch.

obscene noises were made each time he pumped in and out and in and out, his heavy balls slapping against your clit, sending jolts through you.

each thrust made your breasts bounce under your top, nubs hard and aching against the fabric.

“listen to that!” he snarls.

“hear how wet you are? taking my cock so willingly while everyone out there thinks i'm just taking a break.”

you sobbed, trying to muffle it against your arm though it didn't do much help anyways.

“kook… faster p-please, i need—”

he didn't let you finish your words because he obliged instantly, picking up the pace, his hips slamming inside you.

the same control he used on stage now driving you into insanity.

sweat dripped from his hair and onto your back, his free hand snaked around you to rub your clit in a tight fast rubs, matching the brutal rhythm of his cock.

your lips remained perpetually parted, letting out little “uh uh uhs” with each of his thrusts, not having any control to hold yourself up, your body was held like a ragdoll with one of his arms alone.

“yeah uh huh? you like this?”

he asks, mockingly imitating one of your noises with a breathless chuckle.

“oh god..”

you mewled, not even processing his words enough to reply to him.

“answer me when i ask a question. tell me, do you like getting pounded like a secret slut while i'm supposed to be performing?”

he lets out an animalistic sound, his palm coming down to give a sharp spank on your butt cheek, most definitely leaving a red handprint there.

“nhnnmm ahh y-yes so good. i want more. i want more pleaseee.”

you choked out letting out quiet squeals, unable to keep up with his fucking while he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, his head falling back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“of course you want more, this pussy never gets enough does it huh? so greedy.”

he gives you a few more hard thrusts, his hips circling occasionally doing that grinding rhythm that makes your toes curl while you start fluttering hard around him as if trying to just trap him inside you forever.

“dammit you feel so good, g-gonna cum so hard inside you baby.”

he stutters, his brows furrowing.

the pressure was starting to build fast so fast, from the way he dominated you, from his words, the rush of adrenaline and everything else... it was too much yet so amazing at the same time.

you wanted more, more and more.

your head thrashed side to side as you felt like he'd just hit deep inside your stomach, your hand scratching red lines on his tattooed wrist.

“yes—yes—yes—”

you yelped, trembling uncontrollably as you felt so near to your orgasm.

“that's it cum on my cock, let me feel you.”

he starts pounding you, angling your hips, manhandling you so he's able to reach the depths inside you that you didn't even know existed.

his hand quickening on your clit, doing that side to side and up and down motions on your clit, he knows it drives you a little insane.

he knows that you love it when he plays around with that little sensitive button of yours.

when he decides to pinch it between two fingers and holding on while delivering sharp thrusts, did it finally break you.

you came with a loud scream that ended in a wail.

“hahhh!”

your pussy pulses around his pistoning length, milking him, making his pace falter at the heavenly feeling of you cumming around him.

but he soon picked back up, fucking you through it and chasing his own release while making your juices splash everywhere making a mess on the floor beneath you.

his breaths turned ragged, thrusts losing their rhythm as he got closer and closer.

thrust. thrust. thrust.

“gonna fill this cunt up baby ughh!”

he hisses, slapping his palm beside your head as he buried himself to the hilt and came.

“mmmph..”

you let out a pathetic muffled noise as hot spurts of his cum filled you to the brim, leaving so much of the white mess as he ground his hips slowly, murmuring expletives while pressing open mouthed kisses along your shoulder.

for a long moment you both just panted, bodies locked together, both of you throbbing in the same way with heartbeats racing together.

he didn't wanna leave you so soon or lose the feel of this sweet cunt wrapped around him that he was addicted to but time was almost up, he could hear the members getting ready and the staff calling for his name.

with a reluctant groan, he pulled out slowly with a grunt and an “ohh” leaves you from the empty incomplete feeling.

your pussy gaping right in front of his eyes, leaking his cum as if saying without words how much she misses him already, he had to force his eyes away or else he'd probably just cancel everything and throw you over his shoulder and take you back to the hotel.

he pulled you close pushing your panties and jeans up, smoothing over them while you squirmed at the sodden feeling but the way he held you tighter confirmed that this was exactly what he wanted.

“you okay?”

he asked, eyes searching yours with concern and cups your cheek.

you nodded, a wanton moan leaving you as he kissed you deeply, tongue tangling with yours, tasting your cherry chapstick and your natural taste that he knows by heart.

“i love you so much, i will be finishing the show as soon as possible and then i will take you back to the hotel to finish this properly, you get me yeah?”

he patted your clothed butt and you giggled even as your legs still trembled a bit as he leaned down to steal another kiss.

“i love you too, go kill the rest of the performance pretty boy.” you cooed.

he grinned at the praise, cheeks flushing, that bunny toothed smile breaking through the post sex haze which you adored so much.

he adjusted his earpiece and took a few steps forward but he paused and turned to look back at you.

“keep those panties on, i want my cum leaking out of you when i come back to you.”

he winks, wiping sweat from his brows and rushing back toward the stage as if nothing had happened and he hadn't just said the filthiest thing ever.

you leaned against the wall with a giddy laugh, catching your breath, feeling his cum slowly start to sweep into your panties.

you watched him rejoin his members and dance like he hadn't just ruined you backstage.

your beautiful man is glowing even more now.

but one thing he didn't forget to do every now and then was look back at you with that secret smirk.

the world wanted him, yet you had him all to yourself and you never felt more lucky.

he was yours and you were his, it was a forever kinda thing.

you watched his tongue trace his bottom lip while singing and watching you with bedroom eyes.

it was a promise of what was to come.

you knew the night was far from over.

you couldn't wait.

perm. taglist ❯❯❯ @gukdemonic @kskskskskskskskss @imjustcrabby @chelseaad @cupidsbling @jeonette @goldenjjksworld @mn1jungkook @dilflover008 @singularity4joon @sunkissedcheekss @yevataeia @kookstempo @ggukiebar @gld3en @yoongix7 @bethanyyuy @pinklemonsstuff @hainwhatever @elmarimochi9513 @httpjk7 @littleblue-pickle @mnimxrva @lohikook @coldfuzzylava @raechin-and-bloussiey @roselleroses @beaniestrash @jmscaffeine @mintedagustd @multimxa @furioustrashlover @sammywhammy1

The drive home had been thick with anticipation. Jungkook’s hand had rested on your thigh the entire way, thumb tracing slow circles that sent warmth blooming through you. By the time you stepped through the front door, the silence wrapped around you like a warm blanket. No toddler giggles echoing down the hallway. No sudden “Mama, up!” demands. Just the two of you, and the incredible news from the ultrasound still glowing in your hearts.

You barely made it to the bedroom before Jungkook pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a deep, lingering kiss that tasted like relief and joy and months of stolen, rushed moments. “God, I’ve missed this,” he murmured against your mouth, hands sliding down your sides to rest gently on your hips. “Just us… no rush.”

You smiled into the kiss, fingers already tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants. “We have hours. Yoongi said he’d keep her until dinner if we needed.” Your voice dropped lower, playful and needy. “And after seeing that little heartbeat today… I really want to celebrate.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched. His eyes darkened with heat as he sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the headboard. You sank to your knees between his spread thighs, heart racing with that familiar fierce love that had always defined the two of you. The same love that had given you Nabi, and now— this new little life growing inside you.

You took your time, savoring every second. First, you pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along his inner thighs, feeling the muscles tense under your lips. Jungkook let out a quiet groan, one hand coming down to gently thread through your hair, not guiding yet, just touching, grounding himself in you.

“Baby…” His voice was already rough, low and affectionate. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you whispered, nuzzling against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. You tugged them down slowly, freeing him. He was already hard, thick and flushed, the sight making your mouth water. “I’ve been thinking about this since we left the clinic. About taking care of you… about making you feel as good as you always make me feel.”

You started slow and reverent, pressing a lingering kiss to the tip before letting your tongue trace a slow, wet line from base to head. Jungkook’s hips twitched, a soft curse falling from his lips. You wrapped one hand around the base, stroking gently while your mouth explored, licking, kissing, teasing until he was fully hard and glistening.

Then you took him deeper. Your lips stretched around him as you sank down, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. The weight of him on your tongue, the salty-musk taste, the way his breathing stuttered— it all sent heat pooling low in your belly. You bobbed your head with deliberate slowness at first, savoring the way his fingers tightened in your hair.

“Fuck… just like that,” Jungkook groaned, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “You look so pretty like this. My beautiful wife… carrying our baby again and still so greedy for me.”

You hummed around him in response, the vibration pulling another deep moan from his chest. Encouraged, you took him further, relaxing your throat until your nose brushed the dark trail of hair at his pelvis. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes from the stretch, but you didn’t pull back. Instead, you swallowed around him, letting spit drip messily down your chin and onto your hand as you stroked what you couldn’t fit.

Jungkook’s control started to fray.

His hips began to move, small, shallow thrusts at first, testing. When you moaned louder and looked up at him with watery, adoring eyes, he grew bolder. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he fucked your face with slow, deep strokes. “That’s it… take it, baby,” he rasped, voice strained with pleasure. “You’re doing so good for me. So fucking perfect.”

The room filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your mouth working him, slurping, gagging softly, spit trailing down your chin and dripping onto the floor. You loved every second of it: the way his abs clenched, the way his thighs trembled under your free hand, the raw, guttural groans he tried (and failed) to hold back. You poured all your love into it, the fierce, soul-deep love that had carried you through sleepless nights with Nabi, the quiet protectiveness Jungkook always wrapped you in, and now the overwhelming joy of knowing another tiny piece of the two of you was growing inside.

Jungkook’s pace quickened, thrusts becoming a little rougher, a little deeper, but never beyond what you could take. His free hand reached down to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear as he whispered praises between heavy breaths. “So good… my good girl. Gonna fill that pretty mouth. You want that? Want to swallow everything I give you?”

You nodded as best you could, humming eagerly around his cock. The hand in your hair tightened, and with a broken, guttural moan of your name, Jungkook came hard. Thick pulses hit the back of your throat, and you swallowed greedily, not wasting a single drop. You kept sucking gently through the aftershocks, milking every last bit until he was trembling and oversensitive.

When he finally eased back, you pulled off with a wet pop, lips swollen and shiny, chin glistening. Jungkook didn’t waste a second as he pulled you up into his lap, wrapping his strong arms around you in that safe, protective embrace you adored. He kissed you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue, but it only seemed to make him hold you tighter.

He rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync. “We’re really doing this again,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. One hand drifted down to rest gently over your stomach, still flat but carrying your newest miracle. “Another little one… growing right here. With you.”

Tears of happiness pricked at your eyes as you smiled, cupping his face. “Nabi’s going to be a big sister. And we get to do it all over again; the late nights, the first steps, the fierce love… all of it.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened, that quiet protectiveness shining through as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You stayed like that for a long while— wrapped in each other, basking in the afterglow and the beautiful future stretching out ahead of you, until the quiet house reminded you it was time to pick up your little girl and bring her home.

The next morning, soft sunlight spilled through the bedroom curtains, painting everything in gentle gold. You were still nestled under the covers, propped up against a pile of pillows, with Nabi curled into your side. The little three-year-old had climbed into bed with you the moment she woke up, her messy bed hair sticking up in every direction and her favorite stuffed bunny tucked under one arm.

In your hands was the small ultrasound photo from yesterday’s appointment, the one that showed the tiny, flickering heartbeat that had made your world feel even fuller. Nabi stared at the black-and-white image with wide, curious eyes, her little fingers reaching out to touch the glossy paper carefully, as if it might disappear. “Baby?” she asked, tilting her head so her dark curls bounced. “In Mama’s tummy?”

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “That’s right, sweetheart. There’s a tiny baby growing right here.” You took her small hand and gently placed it on your stomach, still soft and mostly flat. “You’re going to be a big sister soon.”

Nabi’s eyes grew even rounder. She leaned in closer, studying the picture like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. Then she giggled, a bright, bubbly sound that melted your heart instantly. “Baby small like this?” she asked, holding up her thumb and forefinger pinched together. “Like a tiny bean?”

You laughed softly, nodding. “Right now, yes. The baby is very tiny, like a little bean. But it will grow bigger and bigger, just like you did.”

Nabi scrunched her nose, thinking hard. “Does the baby sleep in there? Like I sleep in my bed?”

“Yes, the baby sleeps a lot. And sometimes it will kick, like little butterfly wings inside Mama’s tummy. You used to do that too when you were in my belly.”

She gasped dramatically, pressing both hands to your stomach now. “I kick baby? No no, I be gentle big sister!”

You couldn’t help the fond laugh that escaped you. Her curiosity was the cutest thing in the world— pure, innocent, and so full of wonder. “You don’t have to worry, baby girl. You’ll be the best big sister. You can help me pick out clothes, sing songs to the baby, and teach them how to play with bunny.”

Nabi nodded seriously, then tilted her head again with another giggle. “Baby eat pancakes too? Or only milk?”

You were in the middle of answering when you noticed movement at the doorway.

Jungkook stood there, leaning against the frame with a soft, dopey smile on his face. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, a dish towel slung over one shoulder, and there was a faint smear of flour on his cheek. His eyes were warm, filled with that quiet protectiveness and fierce love that always made your chest feel too full. He wasn’t saying anything, just watching the two of you with pure adoration.

You felt your own smile widen. “What are you looking at, handsome?”

He didn’t even hesitate. His voice came out low and sincere, eyes never leaving you and Nabi. “The loves of my life.”

Your heart fluttered. You laughed softly, warmth blooming across your cheeks. “Smooth talker. Is breakfast ready? Because this baby—” you pointed playfully at your stomach, “—is already making me hungry.”

Jungkook’s smile grew into a bright, bunny-like grin, the one that still made your knees weak even after years together. He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room. “Yeah, it’s ready. I made extra.”

At that, Nabi perked up instantly, her whole face lighting up. “Mickey pancakes?!” she squealed, clapping her little hands together in delight. She scrambled up onto her knees, bouncing on the bed. “Papa made Mickey for me? With chocolate chips?”

Jungkook laughed, the sound rich and warm, as he walked over and scooped Nabi into his arms, peppering her chubby cheek with kisses until she dissolved into giggles. “Of course I did, princess. Mickey pancakes with chocolate chip eyes, just how you like them. And fruit for Mama, because she needs to eat healthy for the new baby.”

Nabi squealed again, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. “Best Papa ever! Let’s go eat!”

You watched them with a full heart, the ultrasound photo still resting on the blanket beside you. Jungkook glanced back at you over Nabi’s shoulder, his eyes soft and full of everything unspoken— the simple life you’d both dreamed of, the fierce love that bound your little family, and the beautiful new chapter just beginning. He extended his free hand toward you, helping you out of bed with that same gentle protectiveness he always showed. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, voice low and tender. “Let’s feed our growing family.”

After breakfast, the kitchen still carried the sweet scent of maple syrup and chocolate chips. Nabi was happily perched on her booster seat at the table, her face and fingers sticky with the remains of her Mickey pancakes. She chattered away about how the chocolate chip eyes tasted the best, occasionally waving her fork like a magic wand. You and Jungkook exchanged soft, amused glances across the table, the easy rhythm of your little family wrapping around you like a warm hug.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, wiping his hands on a napkin before reaching over to gently squeeze your thigh under the table. His touch was tender, full of that quiet protectiveness you adored.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly, his voice low so Nabi wouldn’t get too distracted. “What do you think about taking Nabi to the museum today? The children’s wing has that new interactive exhibit with the big animal sculptures and the touch pools. I was thinking… we should do more family outings like this while we still can.” He glanced at your stomach with a gentle smile, then back up at you. “Before your belly gets bigger and you start feeling too tired. And after the baby comes… well, a newborn and an energetic three-year-old won’t leave much room for spontaneous adventures.”

You felt your heart swell at his thoughtfulness. He was already planning ahead, making sure you all soaked up these precious moments together, the simple joys that made your life feel so complete. “That’s a great idea, Kook,” you replied, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his lips. It lingered just a moment longer than necessary, tasting like syrup and love. “I’d love that. Nabi will have so much fun.”

Nabi perked up at the mention of her name, chocolate-smeared mouth open in excitement. “Museum? With dinosaurs? Or fishies?”

Jungkook laughed warmly, reaching over to ruffle her messy hair. “Both, princess. And maybe even a big elephant you can touch.”

You stood up, collecting a few plates while giving Jungkook another quick kiss on the cheek. “You go shower and get ready. I’ll help our little explorer get dressed.”

While Jungkook disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower running softly in the background, you took Nabi to her room. She bounced on her toes the whole way, already babbling about what she might see. You helped her out of her pajama top and into a cute yellow sundress with little white flowers— perfect for a day out. Then you sat her down in front of the mirror and began braiding her hair.

Her dark, silky strands were just like her father’s, falling in soft waves that framed her face. As you carefully twisted and wove them into a little braid crown on top of her head, securing it with tiny pins and a white bow, you couldn’t help but smile. Nabi was the spitting image of Jungkook— those big, expressive doe eyes, the same bunny-like smile when she grinned wide, the gentle slope of her nose. It made your chest ache with love every time you noticed it.

“You look so pretty, sweetheart,” you murmured, kissing the top of her finished braid. “Just like Papa.”

Nabi giggled, turning her head from side to side to admire her reflection. “Like Papa? Yay! I big girl now.”

Once she was ready, you quickly freshened up yourself, slipping into comfortable jeans and a loose blouse that would hide any early changes for now. By the time you stepped out, Jungkook was already dressed in a simple black hoodie and jeans, his hair still slightly damp and tousled. He looked effortlessly handsome, and the soft smile he gave you when he saw Nabi’s braid crown made your heart flutter all over again.

“Ready?” he asked, scooping Nabi up into his arms so she squealed with delight.

The three of you headed out to the car. Jungkook, ever the gentleman, opened the passenger door for you first, waiting until you were settled before closing it gently. Then he moved to the back, carefully strapping Nabi into her car seat with practiced ease— checking the straps twice, just like always. She kicked her little legs happily, clutching her stuffed bunny. “All safe?” Jungkook asked her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

“Safe!” Nabi declared with a firm nod.

He slid into the driver’s seat, reaching over to take your hand and intertwine your fingers as he started the engine. The radio played softly in the background, some gentle playlist you both loved. As he pulled out of the driveway, Nabi’s excited chatter filled the car—“Mama, will there be butterflies? Papa, can I see the big lion?”—and you leaned your head back, watching the two loves of your life with a content smile.

The museum was alive with soft lighting and the gentle hum of families exploring when you arrived. As soon as you stepped inside the children’s wing, Nabi’s eyes went wide with wonder. Jungkook held her hand on one side while you held the other, the three of you forming a little chain as you wandered through the exhibits. “Wow!” Nabi gasped, tugging you both toward the first big display, a towering elephant sculpture made of recycled materials. She reached out with both hands, patting its leg as high as she could. “Big elephant! Like in my book, Mama!”

You laughed softly, crouching down beside her. “It is big, isn’t it? Even bigger than the one in your storybook.”

Jungkook smiled down at the two of you, his free hand resting lightly on your lower back in that quiet, protective way. “Want to see if we can find the lion next, princess?”

Nabi nodded so enthusiastically her braid crown bounced. “Lion! Roar!”

The morning unfolded in a series of delighted squeals and curious questions. At the dinosaur exhibit, Nabi stood on her tiptoes in front of a massive T-Rex skeleton, tilting her head back with her mouth open in awe. “Papa, is it sleeping? Can it wake up?” Jungkook patiently explained that it was just bones from a long time ago, scooping her up onto his shoulders so she could get a better view. From up there she pretended to roar, making you both dissolve into laughter.

Then came the butterfly house. The moment you stepped through the misted doors into the warm, humid enclosure, Nabi let out a high-pitched squeal of pure joy. Colorful butterflies fluttered all around, bright blue morphos, orange monarchs, and delicate white ones dancing through the air like living confetti. She froze for a second, then started spinning in slow circles with her arms outstretched, trying to coax them closer.

“Butterflies! Mama, look! They flying everywhere!” she cried, her voice full of wonder. One brave monarch landed gently on her outstretched finger, and Nabi went completely still, eyes sparkling. “It likes me! Papa, see? It likes me!”

Jungkook’s face softened with that dopey, love-filled smile again as he pulled out his phone to snap a few pictures. “It does, baby girl. You’re so gentle, that’s why.”

You stood beside him, your hand slipping into his as you watched your daughter’s pure delight. The butterflies seemed to swirl around the three of you, and for a moment the world felt perfectly still— your fierce love, your safe haven, and this little piece of you both experiencing the world for the first time.

After the butterfly house, the three of you made your way to the small café area near the exit. Nabi’s energy was still high, but her steps were starting to slow just a little from all the excitement. “Frozen yogurt time?” Jungkook suggested, already knowing the answer.

“Yes!” Nabi cheered, pumping her little fists.

You found a quiet table outside in the shaded courtyard. Jungkook went to order while you and Nabi sat together, her head leaning against your arm as she recounted every butterfly she saw. He returned with three cups: strawberry for Nabi with rainbow sprinkles, mango for you (something light and refreshing), and chocolate for himself. He even brought extra napkins and a spoon for each.

As you ate, Nabi dug into her yogurt with gusto, getting sprinkles on her nose. “Mama, the baby will like butterflies too?” she asked between bites, looking at your stomach with curious eyes.

You smiled, gently rubbing your belly. “I think so, sweetheart. We’ll bring the baby here one day when they’re big enough.”

Jungkook watched the exchange, his eyes warm and full of quiet contentment. He reached across the table to take your hand, thumb stroking over your knuckles. “This is exactly what I wanted,” he said softly, voice just for you. “More days like this… watching her discover everything.”

You squeezed his hand back, heart full. Nabi, oblivious to the tender moment, suddenly pointed at a passing butterfly decoration on the wall and launched into another excited story. You and Jungkook shared a quiet laugh, letting her fill the air with her joy while the frozen yogurt slowly disappeared.

“By the way, baby,” he said casually, though the small smile tugging at his lips gave him away, “my mom called this morning while I was getting ready. She asked if Nabi could spend the night tonight. She just got a new kitten and really wants to show her. Apparently the little one is super playful and she thought Nabi would love it.”

You paused with your spoon halfway to your mouth, a quiet spark of excitement blooming in your chest. Alone time. Real alone time— not just rushed quickies while Nabi napped or stolen moments when she was away for an hour or two like this morning. The kind where you could take your time, where you could be loud if you wanted, where you could fall asleep wrapped up in each other without listening for little footsteps. After the emotional high of the ultrasound yesterday and the sweet family day today, the idea felt like the perfect way to celebrate and reconnect.

You nodded, trying to keep your voice light even as warmth spread through you. “That sounds really nice. I think Nabi would love spending time with Halmeoni and meeting the new kitten.”

Nabi’s head popped up instantly, eyes wide and sparkling with delight. “Kitten?!” she squealed, nearly dropping her spoon. “Halmeoni has a new kitten? For me to play with? Can I go? Please please please?”

Jungkook laughed warmly, reaching across the table to gently wipe the yogurt from her cheek with a napkin. “Yes, princess. Halmeoni wants you to come over and sleep at her house tonight. You can play with the kitten, have dinner, and maybe even watch a movie if you’re good.”

Nabi bounced in her seat, clapping her sticky hands together. “Yay! Kitten! I gonna name it… um… Butterfly! Because today we saw butterflies!” She turned to you with the biggest, brightest grin. “Mama, can I bring my bunny so the kitten can meet him?” You too wrapped up in her excitement to tell her that her name was also butterfly— in meaning.

You smiled, heart melting at her pure excitement. “Of course you can, sweetheart. Bunny and the new kitten can be friends.” Nabi let out another happy squeal and went back to scraping the last bits of her frozen yogurt, now chattering nonstop about all the things she was going to do with the kitten, pet it, feed it treats, maybe even let it sleep on her pillow.

Jungkook’s hand found yours under the table again, giving it a gentle squeeze. When you glanced at him, his eyes were soft and full of that fierce, quiet love. He leaned in slightly, voice low so only you could hear. “Means we’ll have the house to ourselves tonight…”

You bit your lip, a flutter of anticipation running through you as you squeezed his hand back. “Mmm, I noticed,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I think we both deserve some proper alone time.”

He grinned, that bunny smile you adored, and pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

The rest of the frozen yogurt disappeared amid Nabi’s excited plans and your quiet, shared glances. When the cups were empty, Jungkook gathered the trash while you helped Nabi clean her hands and face. As the three of you stood up to head back toward the museum exit, Nabi skipped between you, holding both your hands and swinging them.

“Best day ever!” she declared loudly. “Butterflies, yogurt, and now kitten at Halmeoni’s!”

You laughed, glancing over her head at Jungkook. He was already looking at you with that same dopey, lovesick expression from the doorway this morning— the one that said you and Nabi (and the new baby) were his entire world.

Tonight, with the house quiet and just the two of you, you’d get to show him exactly how much he meant to you too.

The drive home from Jungkook's parent's house felt like the longest twenty minutes of your life.

Nabi had been a bundle of pure sunshine the entire way, kicking her little legs in her car seat and talking nonstop about the new kitten. “I’m gonna let her sleep on my pillow and share my snacks!” she had declared proudly. You and Jungkook had exchanged soft, knowing glances in the front seat, your hand resting on his thigh as the anticipation simmered between you.

When you finally pulled up to his mom’s house, the goodbye was filled with tight hugs, forehead kisses, and one last “Be good for Halmeoni, okay?” Nabi had waved excitedly from the doorway, already asking where the kitten was. The second the front door clicked shut behind her, the car had gone quiet— thick, heavy quiet filled with everything you both had been holding back all day.

Jungkook’s hand had found yours on the drive home, his thumb stroking slow circles over your knuckles, but neither of you said much. The air was already electric. The moment you stepped inside your house and locked the door behind you, Jungkook was on you.

He crowded you against the wall in the entryway, one large hand cupping the back of your neck as he captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His other hand roamed greedily down your side, squeezing your hip before sliding lower to palm your ass, pulling you flush against him. You could already feel how hard he was through his jeans, the heat of his body pressing into yours.

“Finally,” he groaned against your mouth, voice low and rough with days of pent-up need. “No little footsteps. No listening for the baby monitor. Just you and me, baby.”

You melted into the kiss for a moment, savoring the familiar taste of him, the way his tongue slid against yours with practiced hunger. But you had other plans tonight. With a soft laugh, you placed both hands on his chest and gently pushed him back. “Wait,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “Not yet.”

Jungkook let out a frustrated groan, forehead dropping to rest against yours, his hands still gripping your hips like he couldn’t bear to let go. “Baby… you’re killing me here. I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on you since we left the museum.”

You smiled, slow and teasing, running your fingers up his chest. “I know. But I have a surprise for you. Go sit on the couch and wait for me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust and a hint of playful disbelief. “A surprise?”

“Mhm.” You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And I want you naked and ready when I come out. No clothes. Just you, hard and waiting for me on that couch.”

Jungkook let out another deep, needy groan, his fingers flexing on your hips. For a second you thought he might argue, but then that signature cocky smirk tugged at his lips. He quirked an eyebrow, voice dropping even lower. “Yes, ma’am.” He gave your ass one last firm squeeze before reluctantly stepping back. You watched as he headed toward the living room, already tugging his black hoodie over his head, revealing the toned muscles of his back and the tattooed sleeve that always made your mouth water.

Heart racing with excitement, you hurried into the bedroom and closed the door behind you.

You moved quickly but carefully, stripping out of your day clothes in record time. Jeans, blouse, and bra hit the floor. The dark red lingerie set you’d secretly bought with Jennie was waiting in the back of your drawer— delicate, sinful, and perfect. The lace bra cupped your breasts beautifully, the matching garter belt and straps accentuating your waist and hips. But the best part was the crotchless panties: sheer red lace that framed everything while leaving you completely open and accessible. The fabric felt luxurious and cool against your heated skin.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the straps so they sat perfectly on your shoulders and smoothing the lace over your curves. Your body had changed so subtly already with the new pregnancy— breasts a little fuller, skin glowing, and the deep red made everything look even more inviting.

From the living room, you heard a low, guttural groan echo through the house. The faint, rhythmic sound of skin on skin followed. Jungkook was clearly touching himself while he waited, unable to hold back completely. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through you. You didn’t mind at all. In fact, knowing he was already so worked up for you only made you wetter.

For the final touch, you sat at your vanity and carefully applied a bold, dark red lipstick that matched the lingerie perfectly. You blotted it once, then stared at your reflection, lips plump and sinful, eyes bright with desire and love. You felt powerful. Desired. Beautiful.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway.

The living room lights were dim, just the way you liked them. Jungkook was exactly where you’d told him to be— sprawled on the couch, completely naked. His muscular thighs were spread wide, one hand slowly stroking his thick, hard cock from base to tip. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, abs tight, and a light sheen of sweat already glistening on his skin. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his eyes… the moment they landed on you, they widened dramatically.

He froze mid-stroke, hand still wrapped around himself as he took you in.

The deep red lace hugged your body like it was made for you. The bra pushed your breasts up invitingly, the garter straps framed your hips, and the crotchless panties left your glistening pussy completely exposed to his hungry gaze. The bold red lipstick made your smirk look even more seductive.

“Fuck…” Jungkook breathed, his voice hoarse and wrecked. His cock twitched visibly in his grip, a thick bead of precum leaking from the tip and sliding down his shaft. “Baby… look at you.”

You leaned against the doorframe for a second, letting him drink in every detail, enjoying the way his eyes darkened with raw need. Then you pushed off and walked toward him slowly, hips swaying with each deliberate step. The lace whispered against your skin, and you could feel his gaze burning over every inch of you.

When you stopped just a few feet in front of the couch, you tilted your head, letting a slow, seductive smirk curve your red lips.

“Are you ready, Daddy?” you purred, voice low, sultry, and full of promise. Jungkook’s breath hitched. He finally let go of his cock, his hand falling to the side as he stared up at you like you were a goddess he wanted to worship. His eyes raked over you again, lingering on your breasts, your exposed core, the way the red lace made your skin glow.

“Shit… you’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped, voice thick with awe and hunger. “Come here, baby. Please.”

You stayed just out of reach for one more teasing second, loving the way he looked at you, like he was barely holding himself back from pulling you onto his lap and devouring you whole. You took one final step forward, stopping right between Jungkook’s spread thighs. He was still staring up at you like you were the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen, his cock heavy and leaking against his lower stomach. The air between you felt thick, charged with heat and years of deep, fierce love.

Jungkook’s hands twitched on his thighs, clearly fighting the urge to reach for you. His voice came out rough and desperate. “Baby… please. Come here. Sit on my dick. I need to feel you.”

You shook your head slowly, biting your red-painted lower lip with a teasing smile. “Not yet."

Before he could protest, you gracefully sank down to your knees on the soft rug in front of the couch. Jungkook hissed sharply as you wrapped your fingers around his thick, throbbing cock, your touch warm and firm. His hips jerked slightly at the contact, but he kept his eyes locked on you, dark and intense, trying to read every little move you made.

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, eyes locked on you like he was afraid to blink and miss anything. His hips twitched involuntarily, pushing his cock further into your grip. You could feel every thick vein pulsing under your palm, the heat of him radiating into your skin.

You stroked him lazily, spreading his precum all over his shaft while looking up at him with innocent eyes that didn’t match the filthy smirk on your red lips. “Do you like my pretty little outfit, Baby? I bought it just for you.”

Jungkook’s breath stuttered. “Like it? Baby, I fucking love it. So fucking sexy… I want to rip every single piece off with my teeth and fuck you raw in nothing but those fucking panties.”

You smiled sweetly, still stroking him nice and slow. “Mmm, maybe later. But right now…” You reached behind your back, unhooked the delicate bra, and let it slide down your arms. Your breasts spilled free— fuller and heavier than usual from the pregnancy, nipples already tight and begging for attention.

Jungkook’s eyes darkened instantly. “Shit… look at these pretty tits. They’re even bigger already. ” He reached forward greedily, but you gently swatted his hands away and replaced them with your own. You cupped your breasts, pushing them together until they formed a soft, warm, inviting valley right in front of his aching cock.

“Do you want to fuck my tits?” you asked, voice dripping with sweetness and sin.

Jungkook nodded so fast it was almost comical, his cock jumping in your hand. “Yes—fuck yes. Please, baby." You didn’t make him wait.

Leaning forward, you let a long, thick string of spit drip from your shiny red lips straight onto the swollen head of his cock. It slid down slowly, mixing with his precum. You used your hand to spread the slick mess all over his length until he was glistening and messy. Then you pressed your soft breasts tightly around his cock, trapping him in warm, plush flesh.

The head of his dick poked out from the top of your cleavage, flushed and leaking. You started moving— slow, deliberate slides up and down his shaft, squeezing your tits together harder with every stroke. “Fuuuuck, yes,” Jungkook groaned loudly, his head falling back against the couch for a moment before he forced himself to watch again. “That’s it, baby. Fuck my cock with those pretty tits. Look how they swallow me up… so soft and warm. You’re such a nasty little wife for me.”

You kept the rhythm steady, sliding your breasts up and down his thick length while looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Every time the head of his cock emerged from your cleavage, you leaned down and dragged your tongue over it, licking up the fresh precum and leaving smears of dark red lipstick along his shaft.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” you moaned softly, squeezing your tits tighter around him. “Your cock is so hard for me. You like using my tits like this? Like they’re your own personal fucktoy?”

“God, yes,” he growled, one hand coming down to tangle gently in your hair, not pushing, just holding on. “I love it. Your tits feel fucking incredible. So fucking full and soft… I could cum just like this, painting your chest and that pretty red lipstick. You’re gonna look so messy when I’m done with you.”

You picked up the pace a little, fucking your breasts faster around his cock while still licking and sucking at the tip every time it appeared. Wet, obscene sounds filled the living room— the slick slide of skin on skin, your soft moans, and Jungkook’s increasingly desperate groans. “Look at you,” he panted, voice rough and filthy. “On your knees in that slutty red lingerie, letting me fuck your tits like a whore. My pregnant little wife on her knees for Daddy’s cock… fuck, I don’t deserve you.”

You hummed around the head of his cock, the vibration traveling straight through your chest and making him curse loudly. Spit dripped messily down your chin and onto your breasts, making everything even wetter and slicker. Jungkook’s hips started twitching, shallow thrusts pushing his cock deeper between your tits. “That’s my good girl… keep going. Squeeze them tighter— yeah, just like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cover these pretty tits in cum if you keep this up.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, lips shiny and swollen, a string of spit still connecting you to his cock. “Not yet, Baby” you whispered teasingly, still sliding your breasts slowly around him. “I’m not done yet. I want you nice and edged before you get to fuck me.”

Jungkook let out a broken, needy groan, his hand tightening slightly in your hair. “You’re so fucking mean… but I love it. Keep using those tits on me, baby."

You smiled wickedly and leaned back in, pressing your breasts even tighter around his throbbing cock, ready to keep teasing him until he was shaking with need. Jungkook’s hips were starting to stutter, his cock pulsing hot and heavy between your slick breasts as you kept sliding them up and down his shaft. His breathing had turned ragged, deep groans spilling from his lips every time the swollen head of his cock poked out from your cleavage and you dragged your tongue over it, smearing more of your dark red lipstick along his skin.

“Fuck, baby… I’m so close,” he groaned, voice strained and desperate. “Your tits feel too good—gonna cum all over them if you keep going like that.”

You could feel him throbbing harder, the veins along his shaft pulsing against your soft flesh. Just as his thighs started to tense and his hand tightened in your hair, you pulled back completely, letting his cock slap wetly against his lower stomach. A long string of spit and precum stretched between your lips and his tip before breaking.

Jungkook let out a broken, frustrated groan, his cock twitching angrily in the cool air, denied right at the edge. “Baby… why’d you stop? I was right there—”

You rose slowly from your knees, lips shiny and swollen, a wicked little smile playing on your face as you looked down at him. Your breasts glistened with spit and his precum, nipples tight and sensitive. “Because I want you so fucking bad,” you whispered, voice husky with need. “I need you inside me, Jungkook. Right now.”

His eyes darkened instantly, that hungry, possessive look flashing across his face. Before you could say another word, he surged forward, grabbing your hips and spinning you around with strong, sure hands. “Bend over the coffee table, sweetheart,” he growled low in your ear, already guiding you forward.

You braced your hands on the cool wooden surface of the coffee table, arching your back and pushing your ass out toward him. The crotchless red panties left you completely exposed, your pussy wet and aching, lips glistening with arousal. Jungkook kicked your feet apart gently, widening your stance, then ran his large palms over the curve of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh appreciatively.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. “All bent over for me in this slutty little lingerie… pussy dripping and ready. You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.”

He didn’t tease for long.

One hand gripped your hip while the other lined his thick, throbbing cock up with your entrance. He rubbed the head through your slick folds a couple of times, coating himself in your wetness, before pushing in with one smooth, deep thrust. You both moaned loudly as he bottomed out, your walls stretching around his girth. He was so thick, so hot, filling you perfectly. Jungkook stayed buried deep for a moment, letting you adjust, his chest pressed against your back as he leaned over you.

“So tight… so fucking wet for me,” he groaned against your shoulder, pressing a hot kiss there. “This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

Then he started moving— slow and deep at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, letting you feel every inch. But the pace didn’t stay gentle for long. His hips snapped forward harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the living room. Soon he was fucking you in rough, punishing strokes, the coffee table creaking under your braced hands with every thrust. One of his hands slid up your back and tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to arch you more beautifully for him.

“Take it, baby,” he grunted, voice rough and filthy. “Take every fucking inch. You wanted me so bad? Now you’re getting it.”

His other hand came down hard on your ass with a loud smack, the sharp sting blooming into heat that made you clench around him. He did it again, and again— alternating cheeks, each slap echoing through the quiet house along with your moans and the wet sounds of his cock driving into your soaked pussy.

“Fuck— yes, just like that,” you gasped, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “Harder, Kook… I can take it.”

Jungkook groaned loudly, his pace turning brutal in the best way. He slapped your ass again, harder this time, then gripped the reddening flesh and spread you open so he could watch his cock disappear inside you over and over. “Look at this pretty pussy swallowing my cock,” he panted, voice strained with pleasure. “So fucking greedy for me. You’re dripping down my balls, baby. Such a messy, perfect little wife.”

He leaned over you again, one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back against him while his hips kept slamming forward. His free hand reached around to rub tight circles over your clit, the added stimulation making your legs shake. “You feel so good,” he growled against your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. “So warm and tight… gonna fuck you until you’re screaming my name. Gonna fill this pussy up just how you like it.”

The angle was perfect— deep, rough, hitting that spot inside you with every thrust. Each slap of his hand on your ass sent sparks of pleasure-pain through your body, making you clench tighter around him. Jungkook kept up the relentless rhythm, fucking you hard over the coffee table, his groans mixing with your cries as the pleasure built higher and higher.

He was nowhere near done with you tonight. Jungkook’s hips snapped forward with brutal force, driving his thick cock deep into your soaked pussy over and over again. The coffee table creaked loudly beneath your braced hands, your body jolting with every punishing thrust. Your breasts swayed heavily beneath you, sensitive and full, brushing against the cool wood with each movement. The sharp sting of his earlier slaps still burned on your ass, mixing deliciously with the overwhelming pleasure of being stretched and filled so completely.

You felt yourself slipping deeper into that sweet, submissive headspace you only ever reached with him. Your moans turned softer, breathier, almost whiny as you pushed your ass back to meet his strokes, completely surrendering to the way he was using you.

“Kook…” you gasped, voice trembling with need. “Feels so good… please don’t stop. I’m yours, fuck me however you want.”

Jungkook groaned deeply at the change in your tone, the way you sounded so soft and pliant for him. He loved when you got like this— sweet, submissive, letting him take complete control. One large hand slid up your spine and pressed between your shoulder blades, gently but firmly pushing your chest down harder against the table until your cheek rested on the cool surface. The new angle made your back arch beautifully, ass raised high for him.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, voice low and rough as he towered over you, his muscular body completely covering yours. “Be a good girl and take it. Let Daddy fuck this pretty pregnant pussy raw.”

He emphasized the word “pregnant” with a particularly hard thrust, bottoming out so deep you felt him in your stomach. A broken moan tore from your throat. “You’re carrying my baby again,” he panted, hips never slowing. His free hand reached around to rest possessively over your lower belly, palm warm against your skin. “Look at you… already so full of me. My cum took so well last time, and now there’s another little one growing right here while I pound you like this.”

He slapped your ass again, hard, the loud smack echoing through the living room. You whimpered, clenching tightly around his cock at the sting. “Fuck, you get so much wetter when I talk about it,” he groaned, voice thick with awe and lust. “Does it turn you on, sweetheart? Knowing I knocked you up again? That your belly’s gonna start swelling soon because I couldn’t keep my cum out of you?”

“Yes—” you whined, completely submissive now, voice small and needy. “Yes, it does… I love it when you talk about it. Love being full of you… love carrying your babies.” Jungkook let out a deep, satisfied sound and leaned further over you, his chest pressing flush against your back. He was so much bigger than you like this— towering, strong, completely in control as he fucked you with long, powerful strokes. His cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, the wet, obscene squelching sounds growing louder with how soaked you were.

“Good girl,” he praised, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Such a perfect little wife, letting me breed you again and again. Your pussy is gripping me so tight… like it doesn’t want to let go of my cock. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take my cum and grow round with my kids.” He reached around with his other hand, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, firm circles while he continued pounding into you. Your legs shook, knees threatening to buckle, but he held you up easily with his grip on your hip and the weight of his body pinning you down.

“You’re so fucking submissive for me tonight,” he murmured, voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “I love when you get like this, baby. All soft and whiny, just letting me use this pretty hole however I want. Gonna keep you bent over like this until you’re crying for my cum.” His thrusts grew even rougher— deep, relentless, skin slapping loudly against skin. Every time he bottomed out, his balls smacked against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. He kept one hand protectively over your belly the whole time, as if reminding both of you of the tiny life growing there while he fucked you senseless.

“Tell me how much you love it,” he demanded, voice husky. “Tell me how much you love getting fucked raw while you’re pregnant with my baby.”

“I love it—” you cried out, tears of overwhelming pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I love feeling you so deep… love being your good girl… love carrying your baby while you ruin me like this. Please, Kook— harder…”

Jungkook snarled softly in approval, his pace turning almost punishing. He straightened up slightly so he could watch the way your ass rippled with every brutal thrust, his hand coming down to slap the reddened skin again and again while he railed you over the coffee table. “That’s my sweet girl,” he groaned, voice strained with pleasure. “Taking my cock so well. Gonna fill this pregnant pussy up until you’re leaking me for days. You’re mine, baby. All mine.”

Your moans turned into desperate little sobs of pleasure as he kept pounding you raw, completely lost in the rough, possessive way he was claiming you. Jungkook kept pounding into you with brutal force, his hips slamming against your ass so hard the coffee table scraped forward an inch with every thrust. Your cheek was pressed to the cool wood, drool and tears of overwhelming pleasure smearing beneath you. The slaps to your ass had left it stinging hot and red, and every time his thick cock drove deep, you felt him hit that perfect spot that made your vision blur.

But he wasn’t satisfied with just bending you over anymore.

With a low, animalistic growl, Jungkook suddenly pulled out of you completely, leaving your pussy clenching around nothing and dripping down your thighs. You whimpered at the empty feeling, already so close.

Before you could beg, his strong hands grabbed your hips and yanked you upright. In one fluid, powerful motion, he spun you around to face him, then hoisted you clean off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his narrow waist as he held you up like you weighed nothing, your back pressed against the nearest wall. “Wrap your arms around my neck, baby,” he ordered, voice dark and commanding. “Hold on tight.”

You obeyed instantly, looping your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers digging into his hair. The new position left you completely at his mercy— suspended in the air, your soaked pussy hovering right above his throbbing cock. Your red lingerie was rumpled and messy, breasts bouncing freely, lipstick smeared from earlier.

Jungkook didn’t give you time to adjust. He lined himself up and slammed upward into you with one vicious thrust, burying every thick inch to the hilt in a single brutal stroke. The force of it knocked the breath out of you, a loud, broken cry tearing from your throat as your back hit the wall.

“Fuuuuck—!” you sobbed, eyes rolling back.

“That’s it,” he snarled, eyes blazing with raw hunger. “Take every fucking inch, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you stupid.” He started moving immediately— hard, deep, punishing upward thrusts that bounced you on his cock like a ragdoll. Each powerful snap of his hips drove him so deep you swore you could feel him in your throat. The wet, filthy sound of your pussy taking his cock filled the entire living room, loud and obscene.

Jungkook’s hands gripped your ass cheeks hard, fingers digging into the already-reddened flesh as he used his strength to bounce you on his length. He was being rougher now, almost feral— lifting you high and then slamming you back down onto his cock with brutal force, over and over. “Look at you,” he growled, lips brushing your ear as he pounded up into you. “My sweet, submissive little wife… letting me hold you up and fuck you raw like this while you’re pregnant with my baby. So fucking good for me.”

He shifted his grip, one arm wrapping securely under your ass while the other hand moved to press flat against your lower belly— right where your baby was growing. “You feel that?” he panted, never slowing his ruthless pace. “That’s my cock rearranging your insides while our little one is safe right here. Gonna keep this belly nice and round for me, aren’t you? Gonna let me breed you again and again until you can’t even walk straight.”

You could only moan helplessly in response, completely lost in submission. Your head fell back against the wall with every brutal thrust, breasts bouncing wildly between your bodies. Tears of pleasure streamed down your cheeks as you clung to him, nails scratching at his shoulders. “Harder— please, Jungkook… I can take it,” you whimpered, voice small and broken. “Fuck me harder… ruin me.”

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with dark satisfaction. “Yeah? You want it rougher, baby?”

He adjusted his stance, planted his feet wider, and started fucking you with even more savage force— slamming you down onto his cock while thrusting up at the same time. The wet slap of skin on skin was deafening. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around him, gushing with every punishing stroke.

“Fuck, you’re dripping everywhere,” he groaned, voice strained but still commanding. “Such a messy, needy cunt. Taking my cock so deep." He leaned in and bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a mark as he continued to bounce you violently on his dick. The new angle had the head of his cock dragging relentlessly against your g-spot with every thrust, the pressure building unbearably fast.

Your moans turned into high, desperate sobs. “Kook—! I’m so close… please don’t stop—!”

He growled against your skin, hips never faltering. “Then cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock while I fuck this pregnant pussy raw. Let me feel how much you love being used like this.” His pace became almost punishing— fast, deep, and relentless. He held you up effortlessly, muscles flexing as he drove into you again and again, determined to push you over the edge while he kept you suspended and completely filled.

Jungkook’s powerful thrusts never slowed. He held you suspended against the wall like you weighed nothing, his strong arms locked under your thighs as he slammed his thick cock up into your dripping pussy again and again. The wet, obscene slap of skin meeting skin echoed loudly through the quiet house. Your red lingerie was ruined— straps slipping off your shoulders, crotchless panties soaked and stretched around his pistoning length.

Every brutal upward stroke forced a broken, submissive whimper from your lips. Your arms clung desperately around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as your body bounced helplessly on his cock. Tears of overwhelming pleasure streamed down your flushed cheeks, your dark red lipstick smeared and messy. “Kook—!” you sobbed, voice high and trembling. “It’s too much… feels so deep… I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” he growled, voice dark and strained with effort. He adjusted his grip, spreading your thighs wider so he could drive even deeper. “You’re gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna squirt all over my cock?”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. One of his hands stayed pressed firmly over your lower belly, possessive and protective even as he railed you senseless. “Look at this belly,” he panted hotly against your ear, never missing a stroke. “Already carrying my baby again… and I’m still balls-deep inside you, stretching you open. You love it, don’t you? Love knowing I knocked you up while I’m pounding you like a fucking animal.”

“Yes— yes, I love it,” you cried out, completely lost in submission. Your walls fluttered wildly around his thick cock, the pressure building unbearably fast. “I love being full of you… love carrying your baby… please, Kook— make me cum!”

Jungkook snarled in satisfaction and fucked you harder, his hips snapping up with savage force. The head of his cock battered relentlessly against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. His balls slapped wetly against your ass, and the wet squelching sounds of your soaked pussy taking him grew louder and messier.

“That’s my good girl,” he groaned, sweat dripping down his temples. “Let go for me, sweetheart. Squirt all over Daddy’s cock. Show me how much this pregnant cunt loves being ruined.”

The coil inside you snapped violently.

Your whole body seized up, a loud, broken scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed through you. Your pussy clenched down hard around his thrusting cock, then suddenly gushed— a hot, powerful squirt spraying out around his length with every brutal thrust. Clear fluid splashed against his abs and dripped down your thighs, soaking the floor beneath you.

Jungkook’s eyes widened with raw hunger as he felt you squirt hard for him, your walls milking his cock in rhythmic spasms.

“Fuck— yes, baby! That’s it— squirt for me,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Good fucking girl… soaking me. So messy and perfect.”

He didn’t stop thrusting. If anything, he fucked you even harder through your orgasm, pounding up into your gushing pussy with deep, punishing strokes that prolonged your release until your legs shook uncontrollably and your vision whited out. The intense clenching of your squirting pussy finally pushed him over the edge. “Shit— baby, I’m cumming,” he groaned loudly, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Gonna fill this pussy up— take every drop.”

With a deep, guttural moan of your name, Jungkook slammed up into you one final time and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum pulsed deep inside you, flooding your spasming walls. He kept thrusting through it, grinding his cock as deep as possible while he emptied himself completely, making sure every last drop stayed buried inside your womb.

You whimpered softly as you felt him filling you— warm, heavy pulses that made your belly feel even fuller. Your body trembled in his arms, aftershocks still rippling through you as your squirt mixed with his cum, dripping messily down your thighs and onto the floor.

Jungkook held you close, still buried to the hilt inside you, his chest heaving against yours. He pressed tender kisses along your neck and jaw, his voice softening even as his cock continued to twitch inside your oversensitive pussy.

“Fuck… you’re incredible, baby,” he murmured, voice hoarse but full of love. “Squirt so beautifully for me… I love you so much.”

He stayed like that for a long moment, holding you up against the wall with his strong arms, both of you breathing hard and trembling in the afterglow. His hand never left your belly, gently rubbing slow circles over the place where your new baby was growing.

When he finally eased back just enough to look at your flushed, tear-streaked face, his eyes were soft and adoring despite the rough way he’d just taken you. “My perfect wife,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your swollen lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up… then I’m taking you to bed so I can hold you properly.”

n; i can do more of this little family if you guys would like as well (: i really enjoyed writing it alot.

No more crowds, no more wandering eyes. No more hands reaching for what was never theirs to begin with. Jeon had burned every bridge and cleared out every extra pair of eyes until the neon drenched room breathed only for the two of you. The bass pulsed low and heavy, but the only rhythm that mattered now was the erratic strike of your heartbeat under his locked gaze.

You circled the pole once, your eyes never leaving his.

Jeon’s breath stayed calm, but his grip tightened against the armrest. He could feel the heavy, all consuming obsession clawing deeper under his skin.

This was the woman who had haunted him since the very first night.

Months ago, he had walked into this same club strictly for business. Corrupt politicians sat across from him in the VIP lounge, sealing dirty deals while his men guarded the doors with heavy weapons. Lust filled men threw money at the stage like confetti, but Jeon hadn’t spared the dancers a single glance. He was here to collect what was owed, nothing more.

Once the deal was finalized, he stood up and lit a cigarette, heading toward the dimly lit back hallway that smelled of cheap perfume and sweat. The smoke curled from his lips.

Then, you came out of nowhere, colliding straight into his chest with a soft, startled gasp.

Out of pure reflex, Jeon’s gun was out and pressed to your forehead before either of you could blink. His other hand gripped your upper arm hard, steadying you from the impact. His eyes were black ice, his voice a dangerous growl.

“Do you want to die, little girl?”

You didn’t scream, nor did you flinch away. You just stared up at him, wide eyes flooded with raw fear and a deep, quiet sadness that hit him unexpectedly hard. Your chest rose and fell rapidly against his grip, but no words came.

Jeon clicked his tongue, annoyed at the lack of apology, yet intrigued by the delicate creature trembling under his hold. He stepped closer, crowding you back against the cold wall until his broad frame completely eclipsed yours, caging you in without effort.

The barrel of the gun lowered slowly, but he didn’t release you. Instead, he leaned in and blew a thin stream of smoke directly into your face.

You coughed softly, quite startled. the first sound he ever heard from you. It was barely a fragile, sweet breath, and something dark and possessive stirred low in his gut.

Jeon traced the edge of the weapon slowly down the side of your neck, letting the cold metal glide right over your pulsing vein. He was looking for a whimper, a flinch, any sign of breaking. Instead, you only gasped silently, lips parting further, your smaller frame staying perfectly still despite the tremors running through it.

His free hand rose, his knuckles brushing your soft cheek with surprising gentleness for a man who had just held a gun to your head. He watched a pretty blush bloom under his touch, your big eyes glassy with terror. You were breathtaking.

“Pretty little thing,” he said quietly, almost to himself, his dark eyes drinking you in. “All quiet and scared… but you don’t run. Interesting.”

Before he could push further, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon!” Your manager came rushing over, bowing repeatedly with a shaking voice. “She doesn’t speak much. She’s new, probably just got lost back here. She won’t cause any trouble, I swear.”

The man yanked you away from Jeon’s grip, still apologizing profusely. You disappeared quickly down the hall without a backward glance, your robe fluttering behind you.

Jeon let you go, but his eyes stayed glued to the spot where you had vanished, the ghost of your warmth and that silent, fearful gaze burning into his mind. He left that night with a fixation already spreading through his veins.

Jeon returned the next friday for another meeting. This time, while making his way out, he saw you step onto the stage. You moved beautifully, ignoring the crowd as they whistled and threw bills. You never smiled, never engaged. Your eyes scanned the room once… and landed directly on him.

Tension crackled instantly between you. You held his gaze longer than anyone else’s.

Later, after your set, Jeon watched from the shadows of the hallway as a drunk regular tried to grab your wrist near the curtain. You pulled back sharply, ice cold refusal in every line of your body. The manager intervened quickly, muttering to the guest, “She doesn’t let anyone touch her, ever. That’s her rule. She’s the most demanded girl here right now because of it.”

Jeon’s jaw tightened. He made a single, quiet phone call that night, and by his third visit, fewer men lingered near the stage when you danced.

By the fifth, the ones who still tried to approach you started disappearing entirely.

And now, seven days after he bought the entire establishment, the room was empty except for him.

The low lights dimmed even further as the last staff member slipped out without a word. The heavy velvet curtain behind the small private stage parted.

You stepped into the glow barefoot, your silk robe sliding off one shoulder, the same calm mask on your face that never cracked for anyone. Your eyes found his immediately. They locked on unblinking, the way they had every single night since he first sat in that booth months ago.

The same quiet apprehension lived in your eyes, the same deep, unspoken sadness. But tonight, there was something else threading through it... resignation, maybe. Jeon noticed, the first fragile thread of curiosity.

He sat perfectly still in the wide leather chair, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other resting on his thigh. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He didn’t smile, didn’t speak first. He simply let the silence stretch between you like a taut wire.

You never spoke. Not once. Not even now, when the entire club was empty except for the two of you and the rules had finally bent enough for this: one private dance. For him. Only him.

You let the robe fall. It pooled at your feet like spilled ink, revealing the delicate lace lingerie underneath, kissing the curves he had memorized from a distance for so long.

Your body moved before the first heavy beat dropped. Every roll of your hips, every arch of your spine, every slide of your palms down your own thighs was teasing but never giving away too much.

You dropped low, thighs parting as you sank into a slow crouch, your back arching until your hair brushed the floor. The lights painted gold across your skin, catching on the faint sheen of glitter still lingering from earlier. When you rose again, you stepped closer, close enough that the heat of your body brushed against the air in front of him, close enough that he could smell the faint vanilla on your skin, but never close enough to taste it.

Your palms slid up the pole again as you spun slowly, one leg hooking high, your body stretching into a perfect line that made the ache in his chest twist into something scandalous.

Your eyes stayed locked on his the entire time, calm on the surface, but he saw the flicker of the fear that never quite left, and the sadness that made him want to wrap the whole damn world in silence just so nothing could hurt you again. He simply watched, his dark eyes heavy with a quiet, dangerous intensity.

Jeon was painfully aware of your rules. No one touched you. No one saw more than you chose to offer. Yet, you were still the most prized, most wanted thing that had ever existed in this place. And now, you were his alone.

His cock strained hard against the front of his slacks, thick and throbbing with every slow roll of your hips. The flimsy fabric of your top barely hid the soft swell of your breasts, your nipples faintly visible through the lace. Those thin panties clung to you, the delicate material doing nothing to hide the outline of what lay beneath. Every time you moved, his mouth went dry with the need to taste, to bury his face between those pretty thighs and worship you until the sadness in your eyes melted into pleasure.

He had paid you more than anyone ever had, enough that you could walk away from this life tomorrow if you wanted. Enough for that quiet, secluded place you dreamed about, far from bruises and leering eyes. But tonight you were still here, dancing only for him, giving him more than you had ever given anyone. That knowledge sent a dark thrill through his veins.

You intrigued him. The way your eyes always found his shadow in the dark, the way you bent and twisted as if trying to see past the low lights to the man watching you so obsessively. He had never once tried to touch you, never pushed past your boundaries even though he could have overpowered you in a heartbeat. And that restraint only made his hunger burn hotter, because he respected you. He needed you to come to him on your own terms.

Jeon couldn’t handle the temptation much longer. Months of watching you, dreaming about sliding his hands over your soft skin, kissing away the fear in your eyes, giving you everything you could ever ask for. But what drove him truly insane was your silence. You had a voice, he had heard that soft little cough the night you first collided with him. but no one in the club had ever heard you speak. The quiet mystery of you made his cock twitch painfully.

He muttered a quiet curse under his breath, shifting in his seat as you slid down gracefully and sat on the edge of the small stage, your legs dangling toward him.

Jeon reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of bills, placing them on the small table beside his chair. His rough voice came out, patience laced with raw hunger.

“Touch yourself. Now.”

Your eyes widened slightly, that familiar fear and sadness flickering, but the heavy heat that had been building between you for months shimmered there too.

You didn’t speak, but you obeyed.

Slowly, shyly, your fingers hooked into the waistband of your thin lace panties. You slid them down your legs and set them aside, but the moment they left your body, one hand moved instantly to cover yourself, your palm pressed flat and firm over your pussy, hiding the most intimate part of you even as your thighs parted wide for his gaze.

Jeon’s breath left him in a slow, sharp exhale, his eyes darkening to near black as he leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. He could see everything except the very center of you: the smooth skin of your inner thighs, the soft curve where your ass met the stage, your fingers trembling just slightly as they pressed against your folds.

It was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed. Your shyness, the way you still protected what no one had ever been allowed to see or touch.

You started with slow, hesitant circles hidden beneath your palm, shy strokes that made your hips roll gently. Your breath came in quiet pants.

In your mind, it was all him. Those intense dark eyes watching you. His large, veined hands instead of your own. His broad frame hovering over you, commanding you to keep going while he finally touched what no one else ever had. The fantasy made you wetter, made your palm press harder, your fingers sliding through slick heat while still keeping everything carefully covered.

A tiny, breathy sound escaped you, the softest whimper.

Jeon’s cock throbbed visibly against his slacks. He palmed himself once through the fabric, his eyes never leaving the place where your hand disappeared between your spread thighs.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with restrained hunger.

Your cheeks flushed a deep, soft red, your thighs trembling as you spread them even wider for him, giving him a clear view of your smooth skin and the obscene way your palm shielded your pussy. Your back arched slightly as your hidden fingers moved faster under your palm. The sadness in your eyes was still there, but it was drowning in heat now, heat directed only at him.

Jeon’s gaze burned into you, obsession coiling tight in his chest. He wanted to replace that shy little hand with his own so fucking badly. He wanted to pry your thighs open wider until you broke that perfect silence with his name. He wanted to taste you, then pull you into his lap and keep you there safe and protected until the fear in your eyes disappeared for good.

But he didn’t move.

Your fingers pressed harder beneath your palm, your legs trembling, breaths coming quicker. You were a soaked mess, glistening down your thighs now, and still, he couldn’t see the center of you. Only the way your hand moved, only the mystery of what you kept hidden even while giving him this.

Jeon leaned back slightly, one hand gripping the armrest hard, the other still palming his straining cock through his pants.

He would wait. He would burn. But the day you finally let him touch you… he would ruin you so softly, so completely, that you’d never want anyone else’s hands again.

And in the pulsing neon silence, Jeon was already completely, irreversibly lost in you.

The nights after that began like all the others. You were called to the private room again, just like before, another quiet performance meant only for him. You had already begun to recognize the rhythm of these nights, the steady anticipation that built inside your chest when you knew he was waiting.

But this time, before you could make it there, your manager grabbed you in the hallway.

Your body jerked backward from the force, your arm twisting painfully in his grip. A sharp sting shot up your wrist, and panic surged instantly through your veins. You didn’t cry out, but your body stiffened, shrinking inward like you had done so many times before.

His fingers dug deeper into your skin, nails pressing hard enough to bruise. “You think you’re special?” he hissed, his voice ugly with anger. His breath smelled bitter, too close to your face. “Walking around like you run this place now just because one rich bastard throws money at you.”

You shook your head quickly, small and frantic, your free hand pushing weakly against his chest. You weren’t trying to fight him, just trying to create space, to escape that suffocating closeness.

He didn’t let go. Instead, his grip tightened further, forcing a quiet gasp from your throat.

“I’m the one who keeps you here,” he continued harshly. “You think you get to make rules? If I tell you to do something, you’re going to fucking do it!”

You lowered your gaze automatically, shoulders curling inward as your body slipped into survival mode. The hallway felt smaller now, the sounds of music from the main room distant.

His hand shifted from your wrist to your upper arm, squeezing hard enough to make your knees weaken, before he smirked at your fear, his hand now shamelessly trailing down your back.

“You’re going to start sleeping with the customers I give you,” he snapped, “or things are going to get a lot worse for you.”

His other hand lifted suddenly. You flinched before it even came down, your eyes squeezing shut as dread surged through your chest.

But the impact never landed. Instead, there was another sound... a dull, sickening crack that echoed sharply through the narrow hallway.

Your manager’s grip vanished instantly. Your body stumbled forward from the sudden release, breath tearing from your lungs as you caught yourself against the wall. For a moment, you didn’t understand what had happened; everything felt distant and muffled.

Then you turned, slowly, only to see your manager on the floor.

His body lay twisted unnaturally against the polished tiles, one arm bent beneath him at an impossible angle. Blood pooled darkly beneath his head, spreading outward in a widening stain that reflected the harsh overhead lights.

Your heart began to pound violently in your chest. Your vision blurred, and then you saw him.

Jeon stood a few feet away, his chest rising and falling slowly, his breathing steady despite the violence that had just unfolded. His knuckles were smeared with blood, crimson streaked across pale skin, dripping slowly to the floor below. His face was terrifyingly calm, while your entire body began to shake.

Fear surged through you, wrapping tight around your lungs until breathing became painful. You had seen violence before, heard shouting, witnessed cruelty, even had violence inflicted upon you, but never this. Never death.

Your knees weakened beneath you. And then, without meaning to, your voice broke free, soft and fragile, barely louder than a whisper.

Jeon turned toward you slowly, like you were something fragile that might shatter if he moved too quickly.

Your tears began to fall without restraint now, blurring everything around you. Your hands trembled violently at your sides as fear and confusion tangled painfully inside your chest.

“D-don’t…” you whispered weakly, your voice cracking with panic.

You didn’t even know what you meant. Don’t hurt me. Don’t come closer. Don’t leave me alone with this.

Jeon took a slow step toward you. His voice, when he spoke, was softer than before.

“It’s okay,” he murmured quietly.

The gentleness in his tone didn’t match the blood on his hands, and that contradiction made your chest tighten painfully. You pressed yourself back against the wall, shaking uncontrollably as sobs finally broke free from your throat. Your legs gave out beneath you as you slid downward helplessly, collapsing against the floor as your body surrendered to exhaustion and fear.

Jeon reached you just before your head hit the ground, his hands catching your shoulders with surprising gentleness. The warmth of his touch seeped through your trembling body, grounding you in a way you couldn’t explain.

For a moment, everything felt distant, the music from the main floor, murmurs of staff beginning to gather at the far end of the hallway. All of it faded into background noise as your fingers instinctively curled into the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

You didn’t realize you were holding onto him until he shifted slightly, steadying your weight more securely.

“It’s alright,” Jeon murmured again, his voice low, though there was restraint beneath it. “You’re safe.”

Safe. The word echoed strangely in your mind, foreign and unfamiliar. Safe wasn’t something you had ever truly known, not in your parents’ house, not on the streets, not even here in the club where you had carved out your fragile set of rules just to survive. Yet now, pressed against him, you found yourself clinging to that word like it meant everything.

Your sobs came harder, breaking through your chest in uneven waves as the shock finally settled into your bones. You tried to breathe, but every inhale felt like the air itself had turned against you.

Jeon stayed where he was, crouched in front of you, one hand still resting firmly against your shoulder while the other hovered briefly at your back, settling there. He waited until your breathing slowed slightly before moving again.

“We need to leave,” he said quietly.

You stiffened faintly at his words, your grip tightening unconsciously on his shirt as unease stirred inside your chest. But the alternative, staying here in this hallway with your manager’s body only a few feet away was far worse. Your eyes shifted weakly toward the motionless form on the floor, and a fresh tremor rippled through your body.

Without a word, Jeon moved closer, shifting his body just enough to block your view. You didn’t protest when his arm slid beneath your knees. You barely registered the movement until your body lifted suddenly from the floor, breath catching in surprise as he gathered you carefully into his arms, as if he knew exactly how much strength to use without hurting you.

Your hands clutched at his jacket again, fingers trembling against the fabric. He held you securely, one arm supporting your back, the other beneath your legs, keeping you close enough that you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

The hallway around you seemed to blur as he began walking. Voices murmured somewhere nearby, but no one stopped him. No one questioned him. They simply moved out of his way.

You didn’t look up. Your face remained pressed into his chest, tears still slipping silently down your cheeks as exhaustion settled heavily into your limbs.

Outside, the cold night air hit your skin sharply, making you shiver despite the warmth of his hold. Jeon didn’t hesitate as he moved straight toward a sleek black car waiting near the entrance. One of his men stood nearby, silent and attentive. His eyes flicked briefly toward you before lowering again in quiet understanding.

Jeon slid carefully into the back seat, adjusting his hold on you so that your body rested securely against him rather than the cold leather.

You didn’t realize where he was taking you until the car stopped.

By then, exhaustion had begun to weigh heavily against your eyelids, your body still trembling faintly with every passing second. The movement of the car had been strangely calming, the quiet hum of the engine mixing with the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath your ear.

When the door opened again, cool night air brushed across your face. You blinked weakly, lifting your head just enough to see where you were.

Your apartment building stood in front of you.

Relief flickered faintly in your chest as Jeon stepped out of the car, still holding you securely in his arms. He didn’t set you down. Instead, he carried you all the way to the entrance, his pace steady despite the narrow stairwell. Each step echoed faintly against the concrete walls as he climbed, never once loosening his grip.

A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over you as your door came into view. You hadn’t planned for anyone to see this place. Especially not him.

Jeon paused only long enough for you to fumble weakly with your keys. Your hands trembled badly as you tried to guide the metal into the lock, your breathing uneven as anxiety crawled back into your chest. He waited patiently, didn’t rush you, didn’t take the keys from your hand.

Eventually, the door clicked open.

You felt the shift in his body immediately once he stepped inside. You didn’t need to look to know what he was seeing: the thin mattress on the floor, the nearly empty shelves, the bareness of walls. There was almost nothing here, nothing that suggested comfort, safety, or even basic living.

Jeon slowly lowered you onto the mattress. The absence of his warmth felt immediate, leaving you suddenly aware of the cold air brushing against your skin. He stood there for a long moment, his gaze moving slowly across the room, taking in every detail of the worn fabric of your blanket, the absence of anything resembling security.

Then his eyes shifted downward, toward the corner of the mattress, noticing the slight bulge beneath it.

You stiffened faintly.

Without speaking, Jeon crouched slightly, lifting the edge of the mattress just enough to reveal what lay hidden beneath.

There were envelopes. Stacks of them, unopened and untouched. All the money he had given you, every last bit of it, was still there, kept neatly.

His jaw tightened slowly as realization settled into place. You weren’t living off the money or spending it. You were saving, preparing to leave.

The thought struck something sharp inside his chest as he lowered the mattress again, covering the hidden stacks before turning toward you. You sat frozen, watching him with wide, uncertain eyes. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then ever so quietly, he asked, “You were going to leave.”

Your throat tightened painfully as you looked down at your hands, fingers twisting weakly together in your lap. You didn’t answer him, but you didn’t deny it either.

You hadn’t meant for him to see this. not the apartment, not the truth of how you lived. The image of your life laid bare in front of him felt far more exposing than standing under stage lights ever had.

“You’re not staying here.” His voice cut cleanly through the silence before you could even lift your head.

You looked up at him slowly. Jeon was standing in the center of the room now, his broad frame rigid as his gaze swept across the apartment once more. His eyes moved from the mattress beneath you to the bare corners of the walls, then to the thin door that separated you from the rest of the building.

“This place…” he muttered quietly, almost to himself, his gaze drifting toward the single window. “There’s no security. No protection.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening nervously around the edge of the blanket beneath you. You had known that. Every night you had laid down here, listening to footsteps outside your door, every creak making your body tense. But knowing didn’t mean you had another choice.

Jeon turned toward you again. There was frustration in his expression, yes, but beneath it sat something that looked dangerously close to concern.

“You have money,” he said, his voice quieter than but no less firm. “Enough to live somewhere better than this.”

Your throat tightened painfully at that. Slowly, your gaze dropped toward the mattress beneath you. You hesitated for a moment before reaching down, fingers trembling slightly as you lifted the corner of the mattress. The stack of envelopes came into view, carefully arranged in a way that made it obvious they had never been spent.

Jeon watched in silence as you pulled them out one by one, stacking them carefully in your lap.

“What’s your name?” he asked quietly, not really expecting an answer.

You didn’t look up. Your gaze stayed fixed on the floor, on your trembling fingers, anywhere but him. He didn’t push. He understood.

You didn’t speak not because you couldn’t, but because speaking had always cost you something. You had learned early on that silence was safer, that keeping your thoughts, fears, and even your voice to yourself was the only control you could hold. In a world where hands could hurt more than words ever could, silence had become both shield and sanctuary for you.

Jeon studied you quietly for a long moment, noting the tension in your shoulders, the slight tremor in your lips. The thought of leaving you here in this fragile state, with nothing and no one, felt unbearable to him.

Finally, he straightened.

“I’ll find you somewhere better, safer. Somewhere you don’t have to look over your shoulder every second. You won’t dance in clubs anymore.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “I’m not forcing you,” he added, softer now. “But it’s dangerous. People saw me with you tonight. The manager…” His jaw tightened slightly. “What happened back there doesn’t stay in this city.”

You remained still, silent as always, but your gaze flicked faintly toward him. He crouched slightly, as if to match your level again, giving you the space to absorb the gravity of the situation.

Then, without another word, he turned. The sudden sound of the apartment door opening filled the space behind you, leaving you alone with the weight of his impending absence.

And then, it happened.

You rose unsteadily to your feet, the exhaustion, fear, and sudden surge of emotion coalescing into a desperate, unplanned movement. You stepped forward and pressed yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his torso before he could fully clear the doorway.

“Wait,” you whispered, a soft, broken sound.

Jeon’s body froze, his hand halfway out to the doorknob, eyes wide as he registered the unexpected voice.

“Don’t go,” you murmured, your voice so soft it almost blended with your rapid breathing.

He stayed still, hesitation creeping into the edges of his controlled composure. The man who had dealt with threats and death without flinching was now caught completely off guard by the quiet, trembling sound of your voice and the fact that you had chosen this moment to break the boundary you had always held so carefully.

Slowly, he lowered his hand from the doorknob and wrapped his arms around you instead, careful not to press too hard but considering enough to reassure you.

You buried your face against his chest, holding on tighter than you thought you could. And in that silent embrace, for the first time in a long time, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to escape anymore. Not while he was here.

--

The first few nights in Jeon’s estate had felt unreal.

You remembered lying stiffly in the massive bed the first time he brought you here, your body tense beneath clean sheets that smelled faintly of something warm and unfamiliar. You hadn’t slept much that night, not because of fear, but because comfort had felt suspicious, something temporary that would disappear if you trusted it too quickly.

But it hadn’t disappeared. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Slowly, without you realizing it at first, the estate stopped feeling like a stranger’s home. It became yours too.

Jeon had given you everything without asking for anything in return. Clean clothes, soft ones unlike the tight, glittering costumes from the club. Not the uncomfortable fabrics that clung too closely to your skin. These were loose, warm, and gentle against your body, soft pants that allowed you to move without feeling watched.

At first, you had hesitated to wear them, as they felt too nice, too undeserved. But Jeon never commented. He never made you feel like you owed him gratitude for the smallest comforts. He simply placed them in the wardrobe and left you to discover them on your own.

The soft bed had become your favorite place. At first, you slept at the very edge of it, as far from him as possible, your body turned slightly away, ready to flinch at any unexpected movement. But he never crossed the space between you. Even when exhaustion dragged him under after long nights away, his body remained still, respectful of boundaries you had never needed to repeat aloud.

Months had passed, and he still hadn’t touched you without permission. That alone had changed something deep inside you. You appreciated it more than words could express.

And that was the problem. You still hadn’t spoken to him, not truly. Not beyond broken whispers forced out by fear. Yet every day, he spoke to you like conversation was natural between you. Like the silence didn’t bother him, and your presence alone was enough.

He would talk quietly while getting ready in the mornings, adjusting the cuffs of his shirts, straightening his jacket as he explained small details about his day, where he was going, when he would return, who he would be meeting.

You always listened.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t in the room, you practiced saying his name quietly, whispering it into the empty air, shaping the syllables slowly against your lips.

“Jeon…”

Soft, and barely audible. Sometimes you said it again, just to feel what it sounded like resting on your tongue. You didn’t know when you would say it to him. But you wanted to. More than anything.

You rarely felt bored inside the estate, as there was always something to do, books he had placed in the room, soft music that played faintly through hidden speakers. Sometimes you wandered the halls, your bare feet sinking into thick carpets, curiosity slowly replacing fear.

But even with all of that, you still found yourself waiting. Waiting for the sound of the front door, his footsteps, waiting for the familiar presence that made the entire house feel warmer. You didn’t like admitting it to yourself, but you missed him when he was gone.

And tonight, he was later than usual.

You sat curled near the headboard, a book resting forgotten in your lap as your eyes drifted repeatedly toward the door. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting warm shadows across the walls. Your fingers twisted nervously into the pages.

Then, distant footsteps sounded as the door opened.

Jeon tracked inside slowly, his movements heavy. His jacket hung loosely from his shoulders, slightly wrinkled, his dark hair messier than you had ever seen it before. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes, and the tension in his posture was unmistakable.

Your chest tightened at the sight. He didn’t notice you at first. He exhaled deeply, low and exhausted as he stepped further into the room.

Jeon walked straight to the bed like he always did after long nights. The mattress dipped slightly as he sat down at the edge, his shoulders slumping forward in a way you had never really seen before. Usually, he carried himself sharply and controlled. Tonight, that control looked worn thin.

You frowned slightly. Pushing yourself upright, the blankets slipped from your shoulders as you moved. The soft fabric of your nightgown settled around you, light against your skin. It was simple, modest, something he had bought months ago without comment, leaving it folded neatly on the bed as if it had always belonged there.

You could tell by the way his head lifted slightly, his brows drawing together in quiet confusion, that he hadn’t expected you to be awake.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Then, carefully, you shifted closer, giving him time to pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t. He only watched, quiet curiosity flickering faintly beneath his exhaustion.

You reached for him, your fingers brushing lightly against his sleeve first, hesitant. When he didn’t resist, you curled your hand more firmly into the fabric and tugged softly.

Jeon blinked in surprise as you pulled him toward you. He let himself move, guided by your hands, his body leaning slightly forward despite the confusion written faintly across his face. He trusted your actions, even without understanding them.

And then, you pressed his head softly against your chest.

The contact startled him; his body went still for a split second, his breath catching faintly as he registered what you had done. The warmth of you, the steady rise and fall of your breathing beneath his cheek, the soft fabric of your nightgown brushing lightly against his skin, it all felt unfamiliar in the most disarming way.

You didn’t hesitate as your fingers slid gently into his hair, ruffling through the dark strands slowly, uncertain at first, as if learning the motion as you went. You continued, slow strokes threading through his hair, your hand moving patiently. The tension in his shoulders began to loosen beneath your touch, his breathing gradually evening out as he allowed himself to rest there against you.

Your fingers kept moving, soothing him into a small, quiet offering of comfort. The least you could give him.

Jeon let out a slow breath against your chest, soft and unguarded. His hands rested loosely at his sides at first, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them, what he was allowed to do in this moment.

You didn’t push him away. So slowly, cautiously, his hands lifted, hovering near your waist for a moment, giving you time to stop him, to remind him of boundaries, but you stayed still. Carefully, he let his hands settle against your waist, resting there lightly. Your breathing softened as you felt his weight lean more fully into you.

And then, after a long moment of silence, your lips parted. Your heart pounded faintly in your chest, the words forming slowly, clumsily unfamiliar on your tongue, but you tried.

“…Tired?” you whispered. The word came out quiet and fragile, barely louder than a breath, but clear enough to be understood.

Jeon froze from surprise at the sound of your voice, soft and full of concern for him. He tilted his head slightly, just enough to glance upward, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment.

“Yeah,” he murmured quietly, voice rough with exhaustion. “A little.”

Jeon’s face remained pressed to your chest, his warm breath fanning across the soft swell of your breasts through the thin nightgown. His mouth brushed lightly against one peaked nipple, the contact sending a quiet shiver through you. He stayed perfectly still, waiting, always waiting for your boundaries.

You didn’t pull away. Your fingers continued their slow, soothing strokes through his dark hair. With the gentlest pressure, you guided his head a fraction closer, your other hand cupping the back of his neck in silent permission.

Jeon’s breath hitched. His lips parted, and he began to suck softly through the fabric, his tongue warm and careful as it circled the sensitive peak. There was nothing demanding in it, only a deep, exhausted need for comfort. He suckled slowly, eyes fluttering half closed, a low, broken sound vibrating against your skin.

You let him. Your thumb brushed tenderly over his cheek as you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his cheek, then another to his temple. A faint, barely there smile curved your lips, the first real one he had ever seen from you.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, soothing him.

His eyes opened just enough to look up at you. He had heard your voice so rarely that each whisper, each soft breath of sound felt like something precious. He yearned for it hungrily, but in the quietest way.

Jeon never made you feel foolish for not speaking. Silence with you had never felt like an absence to him; it had always felt like waiting for something fragile to bloom in its own time. It did something dangerous to his heart.

He had never known warmth like this. Never known someone would hold him, let him take comfort from their body without expectation or fear. He continued sucking softly, his mouth gentle and unhurried, his cheek resting fully against your breast as he drew quiet comfort from the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. His hands stayed lightly at your waist, his thumbs brushing slow circles, anchoring himself without taking more than you offered.

You kept kissing his cheek between soft coos, your fingers never stopping their patient strokes through his hair. The faint smile lingered on your lips as you watched this dangerous man, reduced to nothing but quiet vulnerability in your arms.

He had spent months protecting you, erasing every shadow that dared come near. Tonight, you were the one giving him shelter.

Jeon’s movements gradually slowed, growing lazier and softer as exhaustion finally pulled him under. His lips stayed gently latched, warm and wet against your nipple, his breaths deepening into the steady rhythm of sleep while his face remained nestled safely between your breasts.

You held him there, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, the faint smile still ghosting your lips as you continued to stroke his hair long into the night. In the quiet darkness, with his mouth still softly pressed to you and his heartbeat syncing with yours, the silence felt warm and fulfilling.

The nights after that moment stayed with you. They lingered in the quiet way your skin felt warmer than usual, in the strange heaviness that settled low in your stomach whenever you thought about the way Jeon had leaned into you, trusting you enough to rest like that.

And now you craved it in ways that left you restless at night, your thighs pressing together when you remembered the weight of his head on your chest, the way his lips had brushed your nipple through the thin fabric, the soft needy sounds he made while seeking comfort only you could give.

On the nights he returned home angry, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp with the weight of whatever blood and deals stained his hands, you did the same. You would take his hand without a word and guide him to the bed. He would follow, always, letting you pull him down until his broad frame curled into you. You’d press his face to your chest, fingers sliding into his dark hair, and he would sigh against you like the whole world finally quieted.

It became a habit faster than either of you expected. He would nuzzle in, his lips seeking until they found the soft peak of your nipple through whatever you wore. Then he would suck slowly, with gentle pulls, his tongue warm and lazy, eyes fluttering shut as tension bled from his shoulders.

You loved the way his sharp, cold gaze would soften into something vulnerable when he looked up at you in the middle of it. This dangerous man twice your size, a mafia who erased people without blinking, reduced to quiet need in your arms. it melted something deep inside your guarded heart every single time.

You would stroke his hair, kiss his temple, and whisper soft, wordless coos while he suckled. Sometimes your nightgown would slip just enough for his mouth to meet bare skin, and you let him. The soft, wet sounds filled the quiet room, intimately vulnerable and strangely sacred.

You had never allowed hands on your body with anyone, never permitted closeness. Yet with Jeon, you offered solace, even though he was the most dangerous man you knew, because giving it to him made the emptiness in your own chest feel smaller.

But the more he found peace in you, the more you ached.

The absence of his hands on your waist when you weren’t guiding them. The lack of his mouth when he wasn’t tired and seeking solace. You wanted more. You wanted him to touch you not just when he was exhausted and seeking comfort, but because he needed you the way you were starting to need him. You wanted his large hands sliding under your clothes with quiet permission. You wanted his mouth on you when you were the one trembling and restless. You wanted to hear his rough voice telling you exactly how he was going to take care of you.

Jeon still didn’t touch you unless you guided him. He still respected every boundary without question.

And that was the problem.

You had spent so much of your life feeling touched in ways you hated, the forced contact of unwanted hands, the suffocating closeness that made your skin crawl. But Jeon’s touch had never felt like that. His hands had always been gentle.

And now, you missed them. You missed the weight of his head against your chest, missed the warmth of his hands resting lightly at your waist. You missed the quiet way he breathed you in. It made something inside you ache, a quiet restlessness. A strange warmth blooming beneath your skin when he stood close to you. The heat of his body when he passed by, the faint scent of him left behind on pillows and clothing.

You noticed everything now, the sound of his voice, the shape of his hands. And worst of all, you noticed how much you wanted him. The unfamiliar longing coiled low inside your stomach and refused to fade.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t home, the estate felt too quiet. You found yourself wandering into the bedroom early, curling into the bed where his scent lingered faintly in the sheets. Days passed, and the feeling still didn’t fade. It only deepened.

Until one night, you found yourself alone again.

The house was silent; Jeon had left hours ago, promising to return late like he often did.

You lay on his bed in nothing but a thin nightgown, your thighs parted, two fingers buried deep inside your soaked pussy. Your hips rolled desperately as you chased release, your mind filled with his dark eyes, his large hands, the way he watched you like you were everything.

A soft, broken whimper escaped you.

“Jeon…”

You hadn’t heard when the bedroom door opened and Jeon stepped inside. You lay on his bed, legs spread, fingers still moving, your eyes wide with shock as they met his. You whimpered his name again, shyly trying to cover yourself, but your hips twitched restlessly, starved. Your eyes begged him silently, glassy and desperate.

Jeon’s jaw clenched. His cock hardened instantly, thick and heavy. He was just as desperate, but he didn’t trust himself to stay gentle if he lost control. He crossed the room but still didn’t touch you.

“Keep going, angel. Let me watch.”

You obeyed, shy fingers returning between your legs, rubbing slow circles while your eyes stayed locked on him. But it wasn’t enough. You were too restless, too impatient, your thighs trembling with need.

Jeon sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

He guided you gently onto his lap, your back to his chest, your thighs spread wide over his. His hard cock pressed against your ass through his slacks. One large hand rested lightly on your stomach, the other hovering just above your pussy, waiting.

“Relax, angel,” he murmured against your ear, his voice rough. “Show me.”

You whimpered restlessly, grinding down against the bulge beneath you. His fingers finally brushed your folds gently, exploring. The moment he tried to press one thick finger inside, you tensed, a small sound of discomfort escaping.

Jeon froze instantly, pulling back. “Too much?”

You shook your head quickly, grabbing his wrist, but another attempt made you flinch again. He cursed softly, then shifted you so you were straddling him, your soaked pussy resting against the hard line of his clothed cock. Both his hands settled on your hips, holding you steady but not forcing you.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice commanding. “How are you going to take my cock, hm? If you can’t even handle one finger?”

You whimpered, your hips rolling desperately against him, silently begging. Your hands clutched his shoulders, needy and impatient.

Jeon’s eyes darkened. He reached between you, gently spreading your folds with two fingers, exposing your pussy to his hungry gaze for the first time. His breath hitched.

“Fuck… so pretty,” he groaned quietly, his thumb brushing just above your clit. “Been dreaming about this for months. This soft little pussy… all mine.”

You grew shy under his intense stare, trying to close your thighs, but he held them open, firm yet gentle. “Don’t hide from me, angel. Let me see.”

He lowered you onto your back on the bed, then moved between your spread thighs. You were completely exposed to him now, your pretty, glistening pussy on full display. He leaned in close, his hot breath ghosting over your folds. Slowly, he blew a soft stream of air across your sensitive lips, watching with dark fascination as they fluttered and clenched from the cool sensation. A low, hungry sound rumbled in his chest.

His mouth watered at the sight. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

He pressed a slow, open mouthed kiss directly to your pussy, his lips soft against your slick folds. Then his tongue dragged through you in one long, hot stripe from your entrance up to your swollen clit, tasting you properly for the first time. The moan that tore from his throat was deep and filthy, vibrating straight against your core.

You gasped sharply, your hips jerking hard. The sensation was overwhelming, his warm, wet tongue too much. Instinctively, you tried to close your thighs, tried to squirm away from the intense pleasure, but Jeon’s strong hands gripped tighter, pinning your legs open wide.

He kissed your folds like he was devouring something sacred and soft, wet sounds filling the room as he sucked gently on your clit, then pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with it in shallow, teasing strokes. You writhed beneath him, restless and overwhelmed, small, desperate whimpers spilling from your lips. Your hands pushed at his shoulders, your thighs trembling violently in his iron grip as the pleasure bordered on too much. Every slow lick, every suck, every time his tongue curled inside you sent sparks shooting up your spine. You were so sensitive, so needy after years of nothing, that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Jeon groaned deeply, the taste of you driving him insane. “So fucking sweet… dripping all over my tongue. Taste so fucking good for me.”

When your moans grew higher, he finally slid one thick finger inside, careful, curling gently once he was past the initial tightness. This time your body accepted him, clenching around the intrusion while his tongue continued working your clit. You were dripping, restless, your hips lifting impatiently.

Jeon pulled back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening. “That’s it… taking my finger so well now.”

He added a second finger, scissoring slowly, stretching you open while his mouth returned to suck on your clit. The pleasure built fast and overwhelming until you shattered, whimpering his name again and again, your thighs shaking around his head. Only when you were trembling and boneless did he finally pull back, kissing your inner thighs gently, his eyes soft yet burning with possessive need.

Jeon sat up at the corner of the bed, his cock straining painfully against the last barrier of his boxers. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and shoved them down, freeing his thick, heavy length, the flushed head already glistening with pre cum. He stroked himself once, watching you with dark, hooded eyes.

“Come here, angel,” he murmured, his voice dripping with intent.

You obeyed without a word, your body still buzzing, crawling across the sheets on shaky limbs until you were between his spread thighs. The sight of his massive cock so close made your mouth water. You had been starved for him for so long.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, your lips parting as you took the thick head into your mouth, sucking greedily.

Jeon groaned deep in his chest, one hand gently threading into your hair. “Fuck… that’s it. Look at you. Been dreaming about these pretty lips wrapped around me.”

You sucked him deeper, your tongue swirling around the head, desperate and eager. Your cheeks hollowed as you took as much as you could, soft whimpers vibrating around his length. He was so big your jaw already ached, but you didn’t stop.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice rough. “Sucking me so sweetly... just like that.”

You moaned around him, sucking harder, one small hand stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. The hunger in your eyes made his cock twitch against your tongue. After a few minutes, Jeon gently tugged you off, his thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip.

“Enough, baby. Come up here.” He patted his thighs. “Sit on me. I want you to take it at your own pace. It’s going to stretch you a lot… okay?” His voice was serious, his eyes searching yours. “You sure this is what you want? We can stop anytime. Tell me it’s okay.”

You nodded, restless and aching, climbing into his lap. Straddling his thick thighs, you hovered over his massive cock, the blunt head nudging your soaked entrance. You were dripping, your thighs slick with your own arousal, but the size still looked impossible.

Jeon’s hands rested lightly on your hips, not pushing, just steadying you. “Easy, angel. Whenever you’re ready. Only if you want it.”

You sank down slowly. The thick head pushed inside, stretching you open with a burning pressure that made you gasp. You only managed a couple of inches before the discomfort bordered on pain. You whimpered, pausing, your body trembling as you struggled to take more.

“Fuck… so tight,” Jeon groaned, his jaw clenched, fighting the urge to thrust up. “Does it hurt, baby? We can stop...”

You shook your head quickly, desperately sinking a little deeper despite the sting. Halfway down and you were already full, barely half his cock inside you, your walls clenching hard around the thick intrusion. The stretch was intense, but the heat and fullness made you even wetter, your arousal dripping down his shaft.

Jeon’s hands tightened on your hips, his eyes flicking between your face and where you were joined. “Breathe for me, baby... you’re doing so good… taking me so well.”

You whined, restless and impatient, trying to push down further but struggling. The pain lingered sharp and deep.

“Shh, angel. Let me take over now,” he said softly, his dominant tone wrapping around you. “I’ve got you.”

He gripped your hips more firmly, holding you steady. With careful, controlled rolls of his own hips, he worked himself deeper, aching thrusts that pushed another inch, then another. You cried out as the burn intensified, tears pricking your eyes, but you didn’t pull away. You wanted all of him.

“Almost there, baby… just a little more,” he murmured, his voice strained with restraint. “You’re clenching so fucking tight around me. Relax for me… let me fill you up.”

With one last gentle but firm push, Jeon sank the rest of his thick cock inside you. The stretch was excruciating at first, pain blooming sharp and hot as your walls were forced to accommodate every inch of his huge length. You whimpered brokenly, feeling impossibly full, like he was splitting you open.

Jeon stilled completely once he bottomed out, buried to the hilt. His hands stroked your back soothingly, his voice soft and reassuring even as his cock throbbed inside you.

“There you go… all the way in. You took every inch. Such a good girl for me.” He kissed your temple, staying perfectly still to let you adjust.

Slowly, the burning stretch eased into a heavy, throbbing fullness. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him as the discomfort melted into deep, aching pleasure. Jeon stayed buried deep, his hands gentle on your skin, waiting patiently until your whimpers turned into soft, needy sounds and your hips began to move restlessly again. He could feel the way your sensitive little pussy gripped him so tightly it bordered on painful for both of you.

“Fuck, angel… look at that,” he murmured hoarsely, He shifted you carefully, laying you back on the bed and hooking your legs over his elbows, folding you open wider so he could see everything. His dark eyes dropped between your bodies, watching with raw hunger as your slick walls clenched visibly around the base of his cock. “Pretty pussy sucking me in so greedily. Clenching like it never wants to let me go.”

You cried out softly, overwhelmed tears slipping down your temples. The stretch was still intense, but the fullness felt too good to stop. Your hips twitched restlessly beneath him.

“Jeon…” you whimpered, your voice breaking for the first time again, needy and begging. “More… please…”

The sound of your voice finally saying his name like that hit him like a drug. Jeon’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with possessive hunger. He had waited so long to hear you, and now every soft whimper and broken plea made his cock throb harder inside you.

He started slow at first, gentle rolls of his hips, sliding his thick length in and out with careful control, kissing your tear streaked cheeks and murmuring soft praises against your skin. “That’s it, angel. Taking me so well… my good girl.”

But your desperate little whimpers kept fueling him. “More… please...”

Jeon lost control, his hips snapping forward harder, driving his massive cock deep into your tight heat with rough, punishing thrusts. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping skin filled the room as he fucked you deeper, faster, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every brutal stroke. You cried out, tears streaming down your face, but you took every inch, whimpering his name over and over like a prayer.

Jeon loved it. Loved the sound of your voice breaking for him. It drove him wild until he was growling against your neck. He pounded into you relentlessly, his hips slamming against yours, the bed creaking under the force. His thick cock stretched you open again and again, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you as he drove himself deeper.

Jeon was losing control. After months of never touching you, only watching, only respecting the sacred line you had drawn, the hunger finally broke him.

His hand slid up your body, his large palm wrapping around your throat with firm, possessive pressure. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath hitch and your pulse race under his fingers. He held you there, his thumb pressing lightly against the side of your neck, feeling every frantic beat of your heart.

One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit. The pressure built fast and overwhelming. Your pussy clenched violently around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing so tightly it almost hurt. You came hard, squirting around his cock with a broken cry, clear fluid soaking his abs and the sheets beneath you.

The sight and feel of you falling apart pushed Jeon over the edge as he groaned, his voice strained. He buried himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering as he released deep inside you, thick ropes of cum flooding your spasming pussy.

Even as he came, he kept kissing you softly, on your lips, your cheeks, your tear damp lashes, whispering affectionate praises between heavy breaths.

“My perfect girl… I love you. So fucking much. You’re mine now… all mine.”

He stayed buried deep, holding you close as both of you trembled through the aftershocks, his cock still twitching inside your cum filled, sensitive pussy.

Jeon’s breathing was ragged, his chest heaving against yours. He stayed perfectly still for a long moment, savoring the way your walls fluttered weakly around him. Then his hand came up, his large palm cupping your tear streaked face with heartbreaking gentleness. His thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the wetness, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched and your breaths mingled.

His dark eyes searched yours. “I don’t want you to call me Jeon anymore,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, almost trembling with the weight of it. “Not tonight. Not ever again.”

He swallowed hard, his thumb stroking your bottom lip as if memorizing the shape of your silence. “I want you to call me Jungkook.”

His eyes were burning deep with something that had been growing since the night you first crashed into him in that dim hallway. Since the first time your fearful, sad eyes had locked onto his across a smoky club and refused to let go.

“I’ve waited so long to hear my name on your lips,” he continued softly, his voice cracking. “Every time you danced for me… every time you looked at me like I was the only man in the world… I wanted this. I wanted you to say it like you just did when you were falling apart around me. Like I’m yours.”

He pressed a slow, reverent kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your eye, tasting the salt of your tears.

“You’re my home now, angel. I’d burn everything down again just to keep you safe… just to keep hearing you whisper my name like that.”

You lay beneath him, still impossibly full of him, your body aching in the most overwhelming way. Your mind was a quiet storm, confused and unsure of the depth of what you felt for this man who had quietly claimed every piece of your guarded heart without ever forcing his way in.

You didn’t know if this was love yet.

But you knew comfort. You knew home. You had never known anything like the way he gently held you now, even after he had ruined you so thoroughly, protective even when he was buried to the hilt inside you. No one had ever made the fear quiet down like this. No one had ever made the sadness feel bearable just by looking at you like you were something precious.

Your fingers trembled as they traced the line of his jaw. You didn’t speak, as words still felt too complicated, but your eyes said enough. They stayed locked on his, warm with quiet realization that this man had become your safe place.

Jeon smiled, soft and impossibly tender, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips. “Stay with me,” he whispered against your mouth, the plea wrapped in desperation. “Let me keep you.”

Jeon’s fingers kept tracing slow patterns along your spine, his breath warm against your temple.

After a long while, you finally spoke. Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, hoarse from all the whimpers and moans he had drawn out of you tonight.

“…Jungkook.”

His entire body stilled. The name left your lips like a secret finally set free, hesitant and uncertain, but real. His arms tightened around you instantly, a shaky exhale escaping him as if he had been waiting years just to hear it.

You didn’t say anything more. You didn’t need to. In that single word, you had given him the only thing you had left to offer, the quiet acknowledgment that he was no longer just the man who watched you from the shadows. He was yours now, too.

Jeon pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed, breathing you in. The room fell quiet again, filled only with the sound of your mingled breathing and the distant hum of the city beyond the estate walls. He stayed inside you, holding you close, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.

You still didn’t know if this feeling in your chest was love. But for the first time in your life, the silence felt like it could hold something beautiful, something that might last.

Beauty had always been your burden as much as your blessing. Tales of it traveled farther than merchants and faster than ravens, crossing borders until even distant courts spoke your name with a mixture of admiration and longing. Princes penned verses in your honor without ever meeting you. Even seasoned knights, men hardened by war and duty, often found themselves disarmed by nothing more than a smile.

With your coronation fast approaching, the kingdom stood on the brink of celebration. It would be the grandest event seen in decades, drawing princes, dignitaries from every corner of the continent. Some would arrive seeking alliances. Most would arrive seeking you.

The prospect amused you more than it excited you.

“Protecting my daughter is not merely a matter of strength,” your father’s voice boomed through the hall. “It demands unyielding discipline and absolute loyalty. You will each face three trials. The princess herself will accompany you, so that you may prove your worth in her presence.”

Your eyes swept slowly across the line of knights standing before the throne, a faint mask of boredom kissing your beautiful face, certain that none of them would truly be able to handle you.

For years, entertaining yourself at the expense of knights had become something of a pastime. A lingering touch against a gauntleted hand, a mere whispered compliment that left disciplined warriors suddenly forgetting their own names. Watching them struggle to maintain their composure was endlessly amusing.

You had notoriously toyed with men like this, living wildly beneath the weight of your royal title, and your father knew this better than anyone. That was precisely why he had designed these trials.

He wasn’t simply looking for the strongest sword arm. He wanted a knight with sharp intellect and the rare ability to withstand your constant attempts to live life on your terms rather than as a perfectly mannered princess.

A small, intrigued smile played on your lips when the first few knights stepped forward. They were impressive in brute force, but you could already tell they would crumble the moment you decided to play.

Then he stepped forward.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

Even fully armored, with only his dark, piercing eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet, once his unflinching gaze met yours for a brief second, a strange spark ignited low in your belly. You tilted your head, studying those dark eyes with growing interest.

The first trial took place that very evening in the smaller banquet hall. Only a select few courtiers were present. You sat at the high table beside your father, sipping from a jeweled goblet.

Unknown to the competing knights, the King had arranged for one of the wine pitchers to be laced with a powerful sleeping draught. Harmless, but potent enough to leave the princess disoriented and vulnerable. Only the King, a few trusted advisors, and the princess herself knew of the plan.

The knights had been given only one instruction: protect the princess. No further details.

As the evening progressed, the effects of the draught began to take hold. Your thoughts grew pleasantly hazy, movements slower. The jeweled goblet nearly slipped from your grasp once before you caught it. A second time, you laughed at something that had not been particularly funny.

Several knights noticed. Some were too busy trying to appear vigilant, eyes constantly scanning the room for imaginary assassins.

A few noticed your condition and drew dangerously close. One insisted on helping you stand despite the fact that you had not asked for assistance. Another rested a hand against your lower back almost inappropriately while guiding you through the room. One knight even smiled when he realized how heavily you leaned upon him after stumbling.

The courtiers watched everything. So did the King.

You were beginning to feel genuinely annoyed when a tall figure stepped silently between you and yet another overeager knight.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

Unlike the others, he had not hovered around you all evening. He had remained where a royal protector belonged, close enough to intervene, distant enough to respect your space.

Dark eyes studied your face through the narrow opening of his helmet. “The princess has had enough wine,” he declared.

The knight beside you scoffed. “She seems perfectly fin—”

“She does not.”

You watched surprise flicker across the other knight’s face.

Sir Jungkook’s hand briefly closed around your forearm as you swayed, steadying you before immediately letting go the moment your balance returned.

Within moments he had summoned two ladies-in-waiting to accompany you back to your chambers. When another knight offered to carry you himself, Sir Jungkook declined on your behalf before you could even answer.

“Her reputation is as important as her safety.”

For the first time all evening, genuine curiosity stirred within you.

Most men saw opportunity when they looked at you. Some saw beauty, a few saw a future crown. Yet somehow, Sir Jeon Jungkook seemed to see only his duty.

As the ladies guided you toward the doorway, you glanced back over your shoulder.

“How noble of you, Sir Jungkook,” you teased, voice softened by the draught. “Are you always so resistant to temptation?”

His gaze never wavered. “My duty is to protect Your Highness.”

For reasons you could not quite explain, that response lingered in your thoughts far longer than any flirtatious remark ever had.

The final trial was, by all appearances, the simplest.

After weeks of staged attacks, hidden tests, the remaining candidates expected one final demonstration of skill. Some anticipated a duel. Others believed they would be sent to defend the princess from another fabricated threat. Instead, the King announced that the last trial would consist of a single week of personal duty beside the princess. No further explanation was offered.

The knights were disappointed.

You, however, knew exactly what your father was doing.

The trial was not designed to test strength or intelligence. It was designed to test restraint.

Most of the candidates failed within days. Some became overly eager whenever you requested their company.

Others ignored palace protocol the moment you suggested bending the rules. One knight allowed you to wander through the city market without informing the royal guard because he was too eager to please you. Another accepted an invitation to share wine in one of the palace balconies despite knowing perfectly well how improper it appeared. Every failure was carefully observed and quietly recorded.

Only one knight remained infuriatingly impossible.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

The more you watched him, the more determined you became to discover his weakness. Surely he had one. Everyone did.

At first, your attempts were harmless. During walks through the palace gardens, you lingered beside him instead of remaining ahead as protocol dictated. During meals, you directed most of your conversation toward him. More than once, you deliberately brushed your fingers against the steel of his gauntlet while speaking. Other knights would have turned crimson. Some would have stumbled over their own words.

Sir Jungkook merely stepped aside and continued his duties as though nothing had happened.

Perhaps it was the way every other knight had spent the past weeks attempting to impress you, the King, or the court.

Where others sought favor, he sought only to fulfill his duty. And thus, when the day of the final judgment arrived, the outcome surprised absolutely no one.

Your father rose slowly from his seat.

“Sir Jeon Jungkook,” he declared, voice echoing through the hall. “You have successfully completed all trials. You have shown not only strength and intellect, but the rare ability to anticipate danger and resist… temptation.” His gaze flicked briefly to you. “From this day forward, you are hereby appointed as the princess’s personal royal knight and protector. Guard her with your life. And may the gods help you.”

A murmur rippled through the court.

You turned toward Sir Jeon Jungkook, stepping just close enough that your crimson gown brushed his armor.

“Welcome to my service, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered so only he could hear. “I do hope you’re prepared. Resisting me may prove to be your greatest trial yet.”

His dark eyes held yours with unshakable strength. “I was under the impression I had already passed that one, Your Highness.”

—

Having Sir Jeon Jungkook follow you around all day wasn’t ideal.

It had not even been three months since his appointment as your royal knight, yet his constant, silent presence had already begun to grate on your nerves. He was always a towering shadow in dark armor, never more than a few steps behind. What annoyed you most was his utter lack of reaction.

No matter how boldly you flirted, no matter how you tightened your corset in front of him until your breasts nearly spilled over, no matter how many times you “accidentally” brushed against him, he remained perfectly composed.

What bothered you most of all was that you still had no idea what he looked like. Only those dark, intense eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet. The rest of him remained hidden behind steel, a constant, frustrating mystery.

The journey to the neighboring kingdom for the grand alliance celebration had been long and stifling. You rode in the royal ornate covered carriage borne by four strong horses and guarded on all sides. The extravagant gown you wore was beautiful but suffocating, the tight corset pressing against your ribs and making every breath feel like a struggle. Boredom weighed on you like lead.

Your dearest friend, Lady Isolde rode beside you in her own litter. She was to be wed in a month, and the two of you had spent the journey giggling like girls again, whispering behind silk curtains.

“He’s so tall,” Isolde teased, peeking through the gap toward where Sir Jeon Jungkook rode steadily beside your litter. “And those eyes… I wonder what the rest of him looks like under all that steel. Do you think he’s handsome, or just another brute?”

You laughed softly, though your gaze lingered on the narrow slit of Jungkook’s helmet, where those dark, intense eyes remained fixed forward.

“As if,” you replied mockingly, bored. “He’s far too proper. I could tighten my corset until my breasts nearly spill, and he wouldn’t even glance.”

Isolde giggled. “You should try. For science.”

Sir Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward the litter for the briefest second before returning forward. You smirked. Annoyed as you were by his constant, unflinching presence… you were also undeniably intrigued.

That night, after the feasting and music had died down and the royal party made camp near the forest’s edge, you slipped away, desperate for even a moment of peace, and determined to test just how far his restraint could stretch.

The air had grown chilly, carrying the faint bite of early autumn as you made your way to the forbidden stretch of the deep bend where the river water ran swift and dangerously deep. No one was permitted here after dark, especially not the princess.

You knew he would follow.

The heavy footsteps of armor soon echoed behind you on the rocky bank.

“Your Highness,” Sir Jungkook’s deep voice rang out, firm. “This area is strictly prohibited at night. The currents are treacherous and the water is far too cold. We must return to the palace at once.”

You barely looked at him. Your eyes were fastened upon the vast expanse of the river, moonlight dancing across its dark surface like scattered diamonds. You wanted nothing more than to feel the cool waves kissing your bare skin, to swim freely under the moon with no eyes judging you in, except his.

A small, unusually kind smile touched your lips as you turned toward him.

“Why don’t you join me, Sir Jungkook?” you asked softly, your voice carrying on the gentle night breeze. “Just for a little while. The water looks so peaceful tonight.”

Sir Jungkook stood like a statue in his dark armor. “Your Highness… that would be highly improper,” he replied low. “I am here to protect you, not to… bathe with you.”

You let out a soft, melodic laugh and began walking toward the river’s edge, the hem of your gown brushing the grass.

“Well, I suppose then…” you bit your lip, your fingers moving to the laces of your gown with aching slowness. “I shall swim, and you will stand guard like the loyal knight you are.”

You could feel his intense eyes watching through the narrow slit of his helmet as you loosened the ties. The rich fabric slid from your shoulders like liquid silk, pooling at your feet.

Completely bare under the moonlight, you wore nothing beneath. Your skin glowed luminous and your full breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples already stiff from the cold night air. The curve of your waist flared into soft hips, and the smooth, delicate skin between your thighs was on full display.

Sir Jungkook immediately turned his head sharply away, staring fixedly into the dark trees.

“Your Highness!” His voice was strained. “This is highly inappropriate. I cannot allow—”

“You don’t have to allow anything,” you cut him off, dripping with defiance. “You’re not permitted to touch me while I’m bare. So you’ll just have to stand there.”

You waded into the river with a soft gasp. The icy water bit into your skin, but the thrill of rebellion pushed you forward. You swam out deeper, the cold making your body hypersensitive.

You glanced back at the bank. Sir Jungkook stood like a statue, head turned away, refusing to look at your naked form even once. His armored fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

A thrill of satisfaction ran through you.

You felt exhilarated. Free. And wickedly aware that the most disciplined man in the kingdom was standing on the bank, fighting not to look at you.

“Are you really going to stand there all night, Sir Jungkook? The water feels wonderful… and I’m all alone out here.” You swam further out, the cold water caressing every inch of your bare skin. A soft, content sigh escaped your lips.

It would be a plain lie if you said you weren’t at least a little relieved that he had followed you. The deep bend was no joke. its treacherous currents and deadly depth were feared even by The King. Yet here you were, aching to tear down the walls of the knight who refused to bend to your charms.

You floated lazily on your back, letting the moonlight kiss your bare skin. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you took your chance.

Once a subtle current tugged at your legs, you gasped dramatically, flailing your arms and letting out a soft, helpless cry. “Oh—!”

You fought back a giggle, pretending to be a damsel in distress, knowing the current wasn’t strong enough to truly endanger you. You wanted to see if you could finally crack his composure.

But the gods had other plans.

Without warning, a far more treacherous undercurrent slammed into you like a living beast. It dragged you under violently, twisting your body, filling your mouth and nose with icy water. Real panic surged through you as you lost your breath and sight in the black depths.

“Jungkook!” you screamed, the sound barely coherent as water rushed into your lungs. This time, it was no act.

Sir Jeon Jungkook did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. He plunged into the river fully armored, cutting through the violent current with powerful strokes. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking your naked body against his steel chest as he fought the river with raw, expert strength. You clung to him desperately, coughing and gasping as he dragged you back to the rocky bank.

The moment he pulled you ashore, his helmet caught on a low hanging branch and was ripped clean off.

You lay on the grass, gasping for air, when your eyes finally focused on the man hovering above you.

And you forgot how to breathe.

Sir Jeon Jungkook was devastatingly, unfairly handsome.

Wet raven black hair clung to his forehead and sharp, sculpted cheekbones. Water droplets traced the strong line of his jaw and dripped from sensual lips. His dark eyes, now fully exposed, were intense and beautiful, framed by long lashes and thick brows. A faint scar graced his left eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise perfect masculine beauty.

Before you could speak, he swiftly grabbed his crimson cloak and draped it over your naked body, covering you completely with careful reverence. His gaze remained locked strictly on your face, never once drifting to your exposed skin.

“Are you okay, Your Highness?” he asked, voice rough with concern. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he noticed the way you were staring at his now-bare face.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The combination of the dangerous current, the shock of nearly drowning, and the overwhelming sight of your knight’s true face left you dizzy and speechless.

Your vision blurred. You passed out in his arms.

Sir Jungkook pulled you closer against his armored chest, one large hand gently brushed your wet hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you like a warrior carrying his lady, your head resting against his broad shoulder, body wrapped securely in his cloak, legs draped over his arm as he carried you back to his mare.

He mounted carefully, keeping you nestled safely against him as the horse began the journey back to the palace through secret paths.

You woke briefly as he laid you down on the thick rug before the hearth in your royal chambers. The fire was already roaring. You were still wrapped in his cloak, beneath it only a thin silk bandeau now clung to your body, the delicate material barely containing your breasts, pressing them together in a deep, soft cleavage that rose and fell with each shaky breath.

You trembled from the cold and the lingering shock of the river.

Sir Jeon Jungkook remained kneeling by the fire, his movements precise as he stoked the flames. Water dripped from his raven hair onto his armoured shoulders. Then he rose to his full, imposing height, towering, broad shouldered.

Without a word, he reached for his helmet, which rested upon a nearby oak chest, clearly intending to conceal his face once more.

“No,” you whispered, your voice soft yet commanding as you pushed yourself up on one elbow. “Do not put it back on.”

The knight paused, gloved hand hovering above the helm. His dark eyes met yours, intense and conflicted.

“Your Highness… it is not fitting for me to stand before you unveiled,” he said, his voice carrying the formal cadence of a sworn knight. “I must maintain the dignity of my position.”

You sat up fully, the cloak slipping slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin and the edge of the silk bandeau. Despite the cold still clinging to your bones, warmth bloomed low in your belly as you gazed upon his face, truly beheld it for the first time.

“Come closer,” You rose to your knees on the rug, the cloak parting further as you reached for him. “Let me see you properly.”

He hesitated, every line of his powerful frame taut with restraint. Yet he obeyed, lowering himself once more to kneel before you. Even on his knees, he remained nearly at your eye level, so tall and broad was he.

You lifted a delicate hand and brushed your fingers through his damp raven locks, pushing them back from his forehead. A contented sigh escaped your lips.

“You are far too pleasing to look upon, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered, almost in awe. “I had wondered what lay beneath that steel. Never did I imagine such a face.”

Sir Jungkook remained perfectly still on his knees before you. His hands rested tensely on his armoured thighs as he fought to keep his gaze fixed on your face and not the way your breasts strained against the thin silk bandeau.

“You flatter me, Your Highness,” he replied, voice low. “But I am your knight. Nothing more. Please allow me to restore my helmet.”

You shook your head slowly, refusing to let him hide again. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers still buried in his damp raven hair.

A new, overwhelming wave of admiration and obsession washed over you. This man... this mature, hardened, breathtakingly handsome knight was kneeling before you like a devotee. The realization sent a fresh rush of heat between your thighs.

“You’re older than me, aren’t you?” you murmured softly, continuing to caress his hair with gentle strokes. “Hardened by battles and years I haven’t yet seen.”

You wondered how many more scars he carried beneath that heavy armor hidden across his broad chest, his strong back.

“I am twenty eight, Your Highness,” he answered quietly, his deep voice carrying that disciplined tone you were growing addicted to.

“Tell me something personal,” you said, your voice turning playful yet curious. Your fingers trailed from his hair down to trace his cheekbone once more. “Have you ever been with a woman, Sir Jeon? Truly been with one?”

His jaw tightened visibly. The question crossed every boundary a knight was sworn to respect.

“Your Highness… such questions are not appropriate for me to answer,” he replied. You leaned in even closer, still stroking his hair tenderly, your breath brushing against his skin.

“But I want to know,” you whispered. “Have you ever touched a woman the way a man touches a lover? Ever kissed one?”

Jungkook’s breathing grew slightly heavier. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours with iron discipline, though you could clearly see the storm brewing behind them.

“I have not, Your Highness,” he finally answered, voice low and honest. “My duty has always come first.”

A thrill ran through you at his confession. You let your fingers drift lower, brushing along his sharp jawline. “And if a woman wanted you… desperately?” your voice dropped to a near whisper. “If she wanted your mouth between her thighs… your tongue tasting her, would you deny her?”

The impure question hung heavy in the air between you. You shocked even yourself with how boldly it slipped out, but the vivid image, his devastatingly handsome face trapped between your legs, mouth glistening with your arousal made the heat bloom even more slick between your thighs.

Sir Jungkook’s hands clenched tighter on his armored thighs. A faint flush colored the tips of his ears and neck, but he remained on his knees.

“Your Highness,” he said, reverently, “I am sworn to protect you. Not to… indulge in such thoughts.”

You smiled softly. Then you leaned back on the bed, letting the crimson cloak fall open completely. The thin silk bandeau was the only thing left covering you, and even that felt too much now.

“Then I command you,” You looked down at him, this powerful knight on his knees before you, and felt a rush of pure need. “I want your mouth on me, Jungkook. Right now.”

“Your Highness, I—”

“Touch me,” you breathed, cutting him off. “Please, Jungkook…”

You reached down and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to your chest. Slowly, you pressed his large palm over the thin silk bandeau, letting him feel the soft, heavy weight of your breast. Your nipple was already painfully hard beneath the fabric.

Sir Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arm flexing under the armor as he fought against every instinct.

You didn’t stop there, dragging his hand lower, sliding it down your stomach until his fingers rested between your thighs. You were soaked. your petals slick and hot against his gloved fingers.

“Feel how damp you make me,” you whispered, voice shaking with need.

Sir Jungkook let out a low, strained groan. His dark eyes were fixed on your face, but you could see the violent war happening behind them.

The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on — the princess, the future queen, was laid out before him in nothing but a flimsy silk bandeau, legs spread, pressing his hand against her dripping cunt.

“Your Highness…” he rasped, albeit desperate. “This is beyond forbidden. You are royalty. I am sworn—”

“I don’t care,” you whimpered, grinding slowly against his gloved fingers. “I need you. I’ve never felt this way before. Touch me now, my knight. Please.”

His hand trembled. For a long moment, he simply rested there, feeling your wetness soak through the leather of his glove. Then, with a broken exhale that sounded like surrender, his fingers moved.

He stroked along your soaked folds, parting the delicate petals of your most secret flower. And what a flower it was... a lush, glistening rosebud blooming only for him. Your outer lips were soft and swollen with need, flushed deep, delicate like the first blush of dawn.

As he gently spread you open, the inner petals revealed themselves: silky, and impossibly tender, layered like the finest rose in full bloom after a summer rain. At the center lay your sweetest nectar, dripping and honeyed, flowing abundantly from your aching entrance.

The knight didn’t know what came over him, but your pulsing heat and slick, puckering folds had him utterly entranced. His breathing grew ragged. You could see the way his throat worked, the way his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. He was drooling.

“May I lick you, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with barely contained hunger. “Please… allow me to taste you.”

The desperate plea from such a disciplined man sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you.

“Yes,” you breathed, spreading your thighs wider for him, your voice trembling with raw need. “Use your mouth on me, Jungkook. Lick your princess until she cannot think.”

The moment the words left your lips, something in him broke. Sir Jungkook leaned in and dragged his hot, wet tongue slowly up your soaked slit. The first full taste of you pulled a deep, guttural groan from his chest. You were intoxicatingly sweet and dripping with arousal. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every slick fold as if he were drinking the finest wine in the kingdom.

You cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as overwhelming pleasure flooded your body. The sensation was brand new, so intense it made your legs twitch violently.

“Oh... Jungkook!” you moaned, fingers digging into his raven hair.

The knight’s tongue circled your swollen clit before sucking it gently into his mouth, then plunged inside your tight heat, ravishing you with slow, deep strokes. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth eagerly eating you echoed through the chamber, obscene, and shameless.

The most beautiful woman he had ever known, the future queen, was thrashing beneath him, legs shaking uncontrollably around his head, soft whimpers and loud moans spilling from her pretty lips.

Your hips rolled desperately against his face, coating his tongue, lips, and chin with your sweet release. Sir Jungkook drank every drop you gave him, groaning against your cunt as his own cock strained painfully against his armor.

He had never tasted anything so addictive.

You were already twitching, gasping, legs trembling so hard they threatened to close around his head. The pleasure was too much, too new, too overwhelming for your body.

Suddenly, Sir Jungkook pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your juices. His dark eyes looked up at you, breathing ragged.

“Should I continue, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with lust and devotion. “Tell me… do you want more?”

You could barely form words. Your body was shaking, pussy throbbing, dripping onto the mattress beneath you.

“Please don’t stop,” you whimpered desperately. “Keep licking me... please...”

The knight obeyed instantly. He buried his face back between your thighs and attacked your clit with relentless strokes of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot while he sucked hard on your swollen pearl.

The pleasure hit you like a storm.

Your entire body seized up. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you violently. Your thighs clamped around his head, hips bucking wildly against his mouth as you gushed on his tongue. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, vision blurring at the edges.

You nearly passed out from the sheer intensity of it. body twitching, chest heaving, soft cries still falling from your lips as the pleasure refused to let go.

Sir Jungkook stayed between your thighs through every tremor, drinking down every last drop of your release like a man who had finally found salvation.

When your body finally went limp, trembling and oversensitive, he gently kissed your inner thigh before pulling back, his handsome face flushed and glistening with your arousal.

You could barely speak, still catching your breath as you stared at the sight of your proud, disciplined knight with your release shining on his lips.

—

“The Princess requires her knight’s escort to the eastern tower for stargazing.”

The message was innocent enough on paper. But the court had begun to notice how often you summoned Sir Jeon Jungkook for these private “duties.” Some whispered that the Princess trusted no one else. Others envied the knight who had earned such unwavering favor from the realm’s greatest beauty.

They had no idea what really happened once the tower door was bolted.

In the eastern tower under the stars, you would push Sir Jungkook against the cold stone wall and demand his mouth on you again. He always hesitated at first, “Your Highness, we mustn’t…” but the moment you looked at him with those wide, needy eyes and whispered “Please, Jungkook… I ache for you,” his resolve crumbled.

He would drop to his knees in full armor, push your skirts up to your waist, and bury his face between your thighs. The sounds he made while devouring you were filthy and desperately loud. wet slurps and deep groans as he drank every drop of your arousal. You quickly learned to muffle your loud moans against your own arm or his shoulder, thighs shaking violently around his head as he brought you to shattering orgasm after orgasm.

He never asked for anything in return at first. But one night, after he had made you come so hard you saw stars, you dropped to your knees in front of him, hands trembling as you freed his thick, aching cock from his breeches.

You had never seen the knight fully bare, but you had tasted him.

You took him into your mouth with clumsy but eager hunger, sucking and licking until he was groaning your name like a prayer, his gloved hand gently cradling the back of your head. When he spilled down your throat, you swallowed every drop, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

The tension between you only grew hotter, more forbidden.

You began creating excuses just to be close to him.

You “accidentally” wandered into dangerous parts of the forest during hunts. You “lost” your way in the palace corridors at night. You deliberately teased foreign dignitaries until they grew too bold, all so Sir Jungkook would have to step in, pull you protectively against his armored chest, and hold you there while scolding you with his low voice.

Each time, you nestled your head against his chest plate, breathing in his scent, feeling safe in a way you had never felt with anyone else.

One quiet afternoon in the royal rose gardens, while the other knights kept their distance. The summer blooms were at their peak, rows upon rows of crimson roses spilling over marble trellises in a riot of color and fragrance. Courtiers often compared them to you. You had heard the comparison so many times throughout your life that it had long since lost all meaning.

Your attention was elsewhere when Sir Jungkook paused beside a rose bush heavy with crimson blooms. Reaching out, he selected a single flower and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers before approaching.

“A gift?” you asked.

“If Your Highness would accept it.”

The answer surprised a smile from you.

He stepped forward and tucked the rose behind your ear. His gloved fingers lingered only for a second before withdrawing, but even that brief touch seemed to affect him more than he wished to admit.

When you looked up, his gaze was fixed upon the flower. “Beautiful things are dangerous,” he said quietly.

You laughed. “I believe roses are dangerous for everyone except gardeners.”

His expression didn’t change.

“I wasn’t speaking about the rose.”

Your heart fluttered so violently you had to look away. it was becoming impossible to deny how deeply you were falling for him.

The kisses grew sloppier, more desperate with every stolen moment.

In the abandoned library, your knight would press you against the bookshelves, helmet removed, and kiss you like he was drowning, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist as if afraid you might vanish. You kissed him back just as hungrily, tugging at his hair, moaning softly into his mouth while your hand palmed the hard bulge in his breeches.

Your hunger for him was insatiable. You ached for his presence constantly. The court noticed how you lit up when he entered a room, how you instinctively moved closer to him during gatherings. They saw devotion, they saw trust.

They never saw the way you both held each other’s eyes like lovers who knew their time was stolen.

The relationship was utterly forbidden. Your father would banish him, or worse, if he ever discovered the truth. But neither of you could stop. Something real was blossoming between you.

The knight admired your wild, rebellious spirit. You admired his quiet strength and unwavering honor. In the darkness, you were no longer just princess and knight. You were becoming each other’s secret salvation. And it was only a matter of time before the tension finally snapped.

—

The Coronation.

The kingdom was in full celebration. Banners of the finest gold flew from every tower. The greatest event in decades had arrived, your coronation as Queen.

Princes from across the realms had come in droves, each more eager than the last to win your hand and the throne beside you. They brought lavish gifts, performed in grand tournaments, and showered you with compliments. The entire court watched with bated breath, waiting for you to choose.

You sat upon the raised dais in a breathtaking gown of white, looking every bit the ethereal queen-to-be. But your eyes kept drifting to the tall, armored figure standing silently behind your throne, Sir Jeon Jungkook.

He had become even more composed in public, yet you could feel the storm raging beneath his helmet. Especially when you decided to play your cruel little game.

Prince Min of Veina leaned close during the feast, whispering sweet nothings about your beauty. You laughed brightly, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers linger, leaning in just enough for your neckline to offer him a generous view of your breasts.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sir Jungkook’s gloved hand tighten around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.

Another prince, a golden haired lord from the eastern isles, offered you a rose during the garden promenade. You accepted it with a coy smile, twirling it between your fingers while glancing toward your knight.

Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned behind the helmet. You could feel his jealousy like a living thing, hot and barely contained.

That night, after the feasting and dancing, you summoned him to the eastern tower under the usual pretense.

The moment the door closed, he was on you.

The knight pinned you against the cold stone wall. The single rose you’d been idly twirling between your fingers, a gift from one of the many princes, fell forgotten to the floor.

Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned with something almost feral.

“You will be wed off soon?” he growled dangerously, breath hot against your ear.

You looked up at him, heart racing. Your long, wavy hair had finally been let down after the long day, cascading over your shoulders and hips like dark silk. The tight corset of your white coronation gown was already loosened, the fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“What do you think about Prince Min?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head. “I think he’s quite lovely. So charming. He even said he would worship me every night once we’re wed.”

Sir Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it crack. The jealousy that had been simmering all day threatening to explode.

“Doesn’t it drive you mad, Sir Jeon?” You leaned in closer, letting your breasts brush against his armored chest. “Knowing your princess, the one you’ve been secretly devouring every night, is wanted by so many powerful men? That they all dream of putting a ring on my finger and taking me to their beds?”

“It is exquisite torture, Your Highness,” he growled, eyes burning. “Watching them look at you like they have any right to you. Knowing I’m the only one who’s ever tasted you, the only one who’s ever made you scream.”

His raw honesty sent a sharp thrill through you. You bit your lip, loving the way jealousy sharpened his features, making his dark eyes appear even more intense. He was possessive and barely holding himself back. And you wanted to push him further.

You stepped away from the wall with a teasing smile, walking over to the tall, gilded mirror that stood near the fireplace. The white gown still clung to your body, hair cascading in long, wild waves down your back. You picked up a silver brush and began slowly running it through it, watching him in the reflection.

Sir Jungkook followed you like a shadow, stopping just behind you. His tall, powerful frame loomed in the mirror, twice your size, radiating heat and restrained fury.

“Does that bother you, my knight?” A teasing smile played on your lips. “Knowing that soon I might have to let another man—”

You didn’t get to finish. Sir Jungkook’s large hand closed around your wrist, stopping the brush mid stroke. He plucked it from your fingers and set it down with a deliberate clack. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling your back flush against his armored chest.

Your breath hitched. The playful boldness you’d been wielding all night vanished in an instant.

“Enough,” he growled low against your ear, “You’ve teased me enough tonight, Your Highness.”

His dark eyes burned into yours through the mirror. The intensity there made your knees weak. This wasn’t the restrained, obedient knight anymore. This was a man who had finally reached his limit.

He reached around you and slowly began unlacing the rest of your corset. The white gown loosened further, slipping down your shoulders. You watched in the mirror as he tugged it lower, exposing your full breasts to the cool air and the warm firelight. Your nipples were hard, flushed, and sensitive.

Sir Jungkook’s hand cupped one breast possessively, squeezing it as his thumb brushed over the stiff peak. You gasped, arching into his touch.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered quietly, voice rough. “Look how beautiful you are. How perfect. And yet you let them think they could ever have this.”

He pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you whimpered. His other hand slid down, gathering the fabric of your gown and pulling it up to your waist, fully exposing your bare cunt in the mirror.

Your face bloomed bright red as you instinctively tried to close your legs, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness at the sight of yourself so lewdly displayed, flushed and completely bare in the golden firelight.

But Sir Jungkook wouldn’t allow it. His large hand gripped your thigh firmly, spreading you open again as he pressed his body harder against your back.

“Don’t hide,” His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, intense and commanding. “Look how filthy and wet you are for me.”

You shivered, unable to tear your eyes away from the reflection. The contrast was obscene, your ethereal white gown bunched around your waist, breasts exposed and heaving, legs spread wide while his armored body loomed behind you like a dark, possessive shadow.

Sir Jungkook’s hand returned between your thighs. Two thick fingers slid through your slick folds, parting them slowly so you could see everything in the mirror. You whimpered at the sight, embarrassed yet unbearably aroused.

“So beautiful,” he breathed as he circled your swollen clit with his fingertip. “This is what belongs to me. Not to any prince. Not to anyone else.”

He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began ravishing you with slow, deliberate strokes that made wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet tower.

You tried to close your legs again, overwhelmed, but he held them open with ease, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Watch,” he ordered softly, voice dark with lust. “Watch how easily I can make my princess fall apart.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the mirror as his fingers plunged in and out of your soaked cunt, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your cheeks were flushed deep crimson, lips parted in shameless moans, breasts bouncing slightly with every thrust of his hand.

The pleasure built fast and merciless. Your legs started shaking, thighs trembling violently as you fought to stay upright.

Sir Jungkook’s fingers curled deeper, stroking that perfect spot inside you while his thumb pressed firm circles on your swollen clit.

You came hard with a broken cry, arousal gushing down his wrist and dripping onto the stone floor beneath you. Your head fell back against his armored shoulder, body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through right after.

The knight dragged his arousal coated fingers from your pulsing heat and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while his dark eyes stayed locked on yours in the mirror. The obscene sight made you whimper, legs pressing together instinctively. This time, he allowed it.

You pulled away from him shyly, legs unsteady as you walked toward the wide couch near the fireplace. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover your bare breasts, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Sir Jungkook approached you ever so slowly. His heart was pounding. you could see it in the rise and fall of his broad chest. The way your flushed cheeks and shy posture made you look so adorable only made his desire burn hotter.

He stopped in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. Without a word, he gently uncrossed your arms, exposing your breasts again. You tried to cover them once more, but he caught your wrists softly.

“You’re too beautiful to hide, my love.” he murmured, voice low.

He leaned down and took one sensitive nipple into his hot mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. You gasped sharply, hands flying to his shoulders as overwhelming sensitivity shot through you.

“Jungkook... it’s too much...” you whimpered, lightly pushing at his shoulders, cheeks burning with shyness.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust and affection. “You’re so sensitive here,” he whispered, almost in awe. He flicked his tongue over your nipple again, watching your reaction closely. “So angelic when you tremble like this.”

He sucked harder, alternating between your breasts, licking and biting softly until you were a whimpering mess, pushing at him weakly while your body arched into his mouth.

You grew frustrated at the unfairness, nearly naked while he was still fully armored. With a small, determined huff, you pushed him back slightly and began tugging at the straps of his armor.

“It is not fair,” you muttered, cheeks still flushed. “You get to see all of me, but I still haven’t seen you.”

The knight let you undress him, helping you remove piece after piece until he stood completely bare before you for the first time.

Your breath caught.

He was magnificent. Broad shoulders, powerfully sculpted chest marked with old scars, some long and faded, others newer. A few dark tattoos adorned his left pectoral and ribs. His abdomen was ridged with muscle, leading down to narrow hips. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick and already hard.

You stepped closer, running your hands over his bare chest, tracing every scar with reverent fingers, exploring the strong lines of his back, more scars mapping his battles. He stood perfectly still, letting you admire him, though his breathing had grown heavier.

“You are… so manly, my knight,” you breathed, barely coherent, as your hands returned to his chest, sliding down the hard ridges of his abdomen. “So big… so perfect.”

The room had grown hotter, heavier. The air between you felt charged with months of suppressed longing. Your breaths mingled as you stared into each other’s eyes... yours wide with awe and desire, his dark with barely restrained hunger.

Sir Jungkook’s control finally snapped. He lifted you and laid you down on the wide couch near the fireplace, pinning your exploring hands above your head with one large hand, holding them there firmly before his body hovered over yours, powerful and imposing, thick cock resting heavy against your inner thigh.

“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low and rough.

You did, heart hammering.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.

You squirmed beneath him, aching and desperate. “Take me,” you pleaded, trembling. “Please, Jungkook… give it to me. I need you inside me.”

Sir Jungkook let out a low groan at your words. He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. He was big, almost intimidatingly so. You felt the stretch even before he pushed in.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Your Highness,” he whispered, voice strained with worry and barely contained lust. His dark eyes searched yours, torn between desire and restraint. “You’re so tight...”

You trembled beneath him, legs parted wide around his hips. “Please,” you begged softly, cupping his face. “Don’t hold back. I need you. All of you.”

The knight exhaled shakily and began to push inside.

The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply as the thick head of his cock breached you, slowly forcing your walls open. Inch by thick inch, he sank deeper, filling you in a way you had never experienced before. It burned sweetly, bordering on too much, making your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Ah... Jungkook…” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming fullness.

He paused halfway, breathing hard, jaw clenched tight. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, rough. “I’ll stop. I swear it.”

But you shook your head, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I need you deeper… please.”

With a low groan, he pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. The fullness was devastating. You felt so stretched, so completely claimed, that for a moment you could barely breathe.

Sir Jungkook stayed still, letting you adjust, pressing soft kisses to your tear stained cheeks.

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice filled with awe and lust. “Such a good girl for me.”

When the burn finally melted into aching pleasure, you rolled your hips experimentally.

“Move,” you whispered. “Please… ruin me.”

That was all it took.

Sir Jungkook’s control snapped completely. He pulled back and thrust into you hard, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Jealousy and months of pent up desire fueled every powerful stroke. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock slamming into your soaked cunt filled the tower, mixing with your loud, broken moans.

He was a knight sworn to protect the crown, now utterly ruining the very sovereign he had pledged his life to shield.

“Mine,” Sir Jungkook growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a dark mark. “Not theirs. Never theirs.”

He ravished you relentlessly, claiming you, marking you. His mouth was everywhere: sucking bruises into your breasts, biting your collarbone, licking the tears from your cheeks. He pinned your wrists above your head again, hips snapping against yours with raw need.

You came hard the first time, screaming his name as your walls clenched violently around his thick length. But he didn’t stop. He took you through it, then flipped you onto your hands and knees, on the wide couch.

First, he worshipped.

The knight dropped to his knees behind you, his large hands spreading your cheeks reverently. He leaned in and pressed slow, open mouthed kisses along the curve of your royal backside, lingering presses of his lips that made your breath hitch. He kissed lower, then lower still, until his tongue dragged hot and wet over your soaked folds from behind.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot and heavy. “So divine. And yet I am going to ruin every sacred inch of you.”

Then the worship turned into ruin.

He rose, gripping your hips with white knuckled force, and thrust into you from behind in one deep, devastating stroke. You cried out sharply at the stretch, the thick length of his cock forcing your walls open, filling you so completely it stole your breath.

You sobbed in pleasure, fingers clawing at the cushions as he drove into you relentlessly. The power he exerted over you was intoxicating. this hardened warrior, dominating you utterly while still worshipping every tremble of your body.

“You belong to me,” he rasped, ruining you with slow, devastating strokes now. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimpered, voice breaking. “Only yours, Jungkook... ahh!”

By the third round, you were a sobbing, whimpering mess, tears streaming down your face from overwhelming pleasure, body covered in his marks, cunt swollen and dripping with your combined release.

He took you in every way he could: against the wall, bent over the couch, riding him as he sat on the edge of the seat, then finally on your back again with your legs over his shoulders as he drove impossibly deep.

All night long, the tower echoed with your moans, his deep groans, the obscene wet sounds of your bodies joining. He claimed you utterly and completely devoted.

When he finally came for the last time, buried deep inside you, he held you tight, spilling pulse after pulse of hot seed into your womb, filling you until you felt impossibly full, claimed from the inside out.

Sir Jeon Jungkook pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every word.

“You command the entire kingdom, my lady,” he whispered reverently, “but here in this hidden place… you are mine to ruin.”

You could only tremble in his arms, utterly spent, legs wrapped around his waist, heart pounding wildly as the fire crackled beside you.

The weight of what you had just done, and what it meant for both of you settled uncomfortably in the air. But in that moment, wrapped in his powerful arms, marked and filled by your knight, nothing else in the kingdom mattered.

The days that followed were a delicate illusion of peace.

It was late morning when you found yourself in the secluded royal bathing pool fed by a gentle river, surrounded by floating lily pads and white blossoms that drifted lazily on the current. The water was warm, scented with rose and lavender oils poured in by your maids. Sunlight filtered through the overhanging willow branches, casting soft, dappled light across the surface.

You leaned back against the smooth stone edge, your long dark hair floating around you like ink in water. Your body still carried the secret marks of the previous night, faint bruises on your hips, love bites hidden beneath the waterline, and a persistent, delicious ache between your thighs that reminded you with every shift who had claimed you so thoroughly.

Your maids, Elara, Verra, and old, wise Selyse moved around you carefully. They had raised you since you were a babe, more mothers than servants. They knew you better than anyone.

Elara poured another stream of warm water over your shoulders, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush that still lingered on your cheeks.

“You are glowing again this morning, my lady,” she said lightly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “One might think the moon itself had kissed your skin.”

Verra, younger and bolder, laughed softly as she massaged oil into your scalp. “Or perhaps a certain tall, dark eyed knight has been keeping you… well attended.”

You felt your face heat, but you couldn’t stop the small, secret smile that curved your lips.

Selyse, the eldest, clicked her tongue but her eyes were soft with affection. “Hush, you two. Our princess has always been radiant. Though…” she tilted her head, studying you, “there is a new light in her eyes these days. And a certain weariness in her step that speaks of long nights.”

You bit your lip, sinking a little lower into the water as lily pads brushed against your skin.

“It is nothing,” you murmured, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Nothing?” Vera teased, wading closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

“We have seen you grow from a wild little girl into this breathtaking woman. We know your heart. And we know it does not belong to any of those puffed up princes parading through the halls.”

You reached out, squeezing Elara’s hand, then Verra’s, your voice dropping to a shy, trembling whisper.

“It is true,” you confessed, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun. “I have given myself to Sir Jeon. Body and heart. He is the only man I have ever wanted. The only one who has ever touched me.”

For a heartbeat, silence fell over the bathing pool. Then came the gasps.

Elara’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. Verra let out a delighted little squeak, nearly dropping the oil vial. Even old Selyse, usually so composed, looked momentarily stunned before her face broke into a warm, knowing smile.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Elara breathed, scandalized, thrilled. “You wicked little thing! With your own knight? Right under the King’s nose?”

Verra giggled uncontrollably, splashing water playfully in your direction. “And here we thought you were simply fond of him! All those late night ‘stargazing’ trips… you minx! Was he gentle? Was he… big?”

“Verra!” Selyse scolded, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She turned to you with motherly affection. “Though I must admit, we have suspected for some time. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching… that man is utterly gone for you, my lady.”

You buried your face in your hands, mortified but unable to stop the shy, giddy smile spreading across your lips. Your gaze drifted across the river to where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard a respectful distance away, half hidden among the willow trees.

Even from here, you could feel the weight of his stare. He stood tall and imposing in his armor, but his dark eyes were fixed on you with a quiet, burning intensity that always made your stomach flutter.

You bit your lip, still flushed from both the warm water and the memory of his mouth, his hands, his body claiming you so thoroughly the night before.

“He is… everything,” you whispered dreamily, more to yourself than the maids. “Strong. Honorable. And when we are alone… he worships me like I am his entire world.”

Verra let out another delighted laugh. “As he should! Our princess deserves nothing less. Though if the King ever finds out…”

Selyse gently squeezed your shoulder, her voice softening with both love and concern.

“Then we will protect your secret as fiercely as we have protected you all these years,” she said. “You deserve to love who you love, my dear. Crown or no crown.”

You looked back at Sir Jungkook again. He hadn’t moved from his post among the willow trees, tall and steadfast in his armor, but your heart ached with a sharp mix of fear and wonder.

If The King ever discovered the truth, he would not spare your knight. Sir Jungkook would be banished, or worse. And you… you would be married off immediately to seal the wound.

The thought disturbed you deeply.

You turned back to the water, forcing a smile for your maids, but the warmth of the bath could no longer chase away the chill settling in your chest.

—

The rumors had begun to spread like fire through the palace corridors.

A lesser knight claimed he had seen “suspicious movement” near the eastern tower. One of the visiting princes mentioned, with a sly smile, that the Princess seemed unusually attached to her personal guard. Nothing concrete, nor proven. But the whispers were growing louder.

Your maids noticed your distraction immediately. During your morning dressing, Verra fastened the laces of your gown with unusually tight pulls, her voice urgent.

“My lady… you must be more careful,” she whispered. “Some of the king’s men have been asking questions about Sir Jeon. They say he spends too many nights away from the barracks. And one of Prince Min’s retainers swears he saw a tall figure slipping into your wing after midnight.”

Elara’s hands paused on your hair. “The knight is being cautious now. He avoids being seen with you as much. But you… you still look at him like he hung the moon. It is only a matter of time before the King hears something he cannot ignore.”

Selyse placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her eyes full of love and worry. “You are playing with fire, sweet girl. And fire does not care how much you love it.”

Your heart clenched with fear. You hadn’t seen your knight alone in a week. He had been deliberately distant, protecting you both by keeping his distance. The absence gnawed at you like hunger.

That night, you sent for him under the pretense of needing extra security for a private walk in the inner courtyard.

The moment the hidden door to your chambers closed behind him, you were on him.

You pushed Sir Jungkook against the wall, frustration and fear pouring out of you in a desperate kiss. Your hands fisted in his tunic, tugging him closer.

“Where have you been?” you demanded between kisses, voice shaking. “I was scared. I thought something had happened to you. I thought my father had already—”

“I’m here,” he whispered against your lips, rough with emotion. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you. “I’m right here, my love.”

But then he pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours. His dark eyes were filled with pain.

“I cannot stay,” he said quietly. The words hit you like a blow. “Your father has ordered me to lead a company to the western borders. There have been reports of raiders. He says it is to prove my devotion to protecting the realm… and you. He also made it clear I can no longer linger so closely around you. The rumors are growing too loud.”

You stared at him, heart shattering.

“No,” you whispered, then louder, “No. You cannot leave me. Not now. Not after everything.”

Tears stung your eyes as the hurt poured out.

“After our first night, you pulled away. You kept your distance like I was poison. And now you’re leaving entirely? What if something happens to you out there? What if I lose you forever? I can’t take it, Jungkook. I won’t survive it.”

Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the straps of his armor with desperate, angry fingers.

“I don’t care about the king. I don’t care about the borders. I only care about you.”

Piece by piece, you stripped him. The armor fell to the floor with heavy clangs until he stood completely bare before you, broad chest, scarred skin, powerful frame looking every bit of the warrior he was. You shoved him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Sir Jungkook’s hands moved instinctively to the laces of your corset, trying to free you fully, but you slapped his hand away, tears already glistening in your eyes.

But the knight was patient. He sat up slowly, your legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, and gently cupped your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks with heartbreaking tenderness.

“My love,” he whispered, voice soothing, “Let me worship you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”

He leaned in and captured one of your sensitive breasts in his mouth, sucking slowly. His tongue swirled around your stiff nipple, drawing a shaky moan from you. He moved to the other, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and licking until your back arched and fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, this time from overwhelming sensation and emotion.

Holding you close, then gently but firmly, Sir Jungkook leaned back, gripping your hips and guiding you upward. In one rapid motion, he pulled you over his face, settling you directly onto his waiting mouth. Your soaked folds pressed flush against his lips and tongue, your thighs framing his head as he looked up at you with pure hunger.

“Use me,” he growled against your dripping folds, the vibration sending sparks through your core. “Pleasure yourself on my tongue love. I want to drown in you.”

You hesitated for half a second, still shy and nervous, cheeks burning hot even as your body screamed for more. But the frantic ache between your legs won out. You lowered yourself more fully, your slick cunt sliding over his mouth, his nose buried against your clit. He groaned loudly, the sound muffled and obscene as he immediately speared his tongue deep inside you, licking and sucking at your juices like a man starved.

You started moving almost desperately, grinding down with frantic little rocks of your hips. Shyness still flickered in your chest, making you whimper and bite your lip, but the pleasure overrode everything. Your hands braced on the headboard as wet, filthy sounds filled the room, the slick slide of your cunt over his tongue, his eager slurping and moaning, the way he sucked your swollen clit between his lips and flicked it mercilessly.

“Oh gods...” you gasped. Your thighs trembled around his head as you grew bolder, grinding harder, smearing your arousal all over his face. He gripped your cheeks, spreading them, holding you down so you could use him exactly how you needed. His tongue ravished in and out of your dripping hole, then flattened to lap broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, devouring every drop.

But it wasn’t enough.

You lifted off his face with a wet pop, strings of your arousal connecting you to his glistening mouth. His eyes were dark, lips swollen and shiny with your juices. Before he could speak, you slid down his body impatiently.

You straddled his hips, wrapped your hand around his thick, throbbing cock, and sank down onto him in one frantic motion.

The stretch made you cry out, but you didn’t stop. You rode him hard, bouncing on his length with frantic, emotional need, your breasts bouncing heavily with every harsh drop of your hips.

“Don’t leave me,” you sobbed, riding him faster, tears falling onto his chest. “Please, Jungkook… I can’t lose you. Not after this. Not after you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

He thrust up to meet you, matching your desperate rhythm, his strong hands gripping your hips to guide you deeper.

“I don’t want to go,” he rasped, voice breaking with the same pain. “But I must. Your father commands it. I have to prove my loyalty… so I can stay by your side.”

You leaned down, kissing him messily through your tears, riding him like you could keep him here forever if you just moved fast enough.

“Then stay inside me,” you begged, voice cracking. “Fill me up. So deep that a part of you stays with me even when you’re gone. I want to carry you with me when they try to take you away.”

Sir Jungkook groaned deeply. His hands tightened on your hips as he suddenly flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath his powerful body.

He made love to you then, with deep, devastating strokes that reached the very core of you. His mouth never left your skin, sucking marks into your neck, whispering promises between every thrust.

“You are mine,” he breathed against your lips, hips rolling deeply. “I will come back to you. I will fill you again and again until you swell with our future.”

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging desperately as another orgasm built inside you. When it finally crashed over you, you sobbed his name, walls pulsing tightly around his thick cock.

Sir Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a low, guttural groan. He came hard, flooding your womb with thick, pulsing ropes of his seed, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your souls together.

Even after, he stayed buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to your damp forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.

“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered, small and broken. “I love you too much.”

Sir Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his arms never loosening. “I know, my love,” he murmured. “And that is why I must return to you. No matter what.”

The weeks following Sir Jungkook’s departure had stretched into an endless gray fog.

You moved through your royal duties like a ghost wearing a crown. You sat through council meetings with a straight spine and a hollow smile, listening to nobles bicker about alliances, trade routes while your mind wandered back to your knight’s strong arms. Every night since, your bed felt too large, too cold. You would press your face into the pillow he had once used and fight the ache in your chest.

You missed him with a desperation that bordered on madness.

This morning was no different. You had barely kept your breakfast down before the maids helped you into a heavy velvet gown the color of deep wine for yet another assembly with potential suitors. The princes and lords from neighboring kingdoms were growing impatient. Your coronation was only a month away, and the pressure to choose a consort was mounting like a noose around your throat.

By midday, the nausea returned with a vengeance. You barely made it through the formal greetings before excusing yourself to the private solar, hand pressed to your mouth.

Elara followed quickly with a basin. You retched violently into it, eyes watering.

“Your Highness…” she whispered, rubbing gentle circles on your back.

“I’m fine,” you rasped, waving her away. “Just… something I ate.”

But it wasn’t.

Later that evening, after the day’s obligations were finally over, Vera and Selyse insisted on the usual massage to ease the tension in your shoulders. They helped you out of your gown until you lay on the wide cushioned table in nothing but a thin silk shift.

The moment Selyse’s skilled hands moved over your breasts, the older maid froze.

Verra, who was working on your legs, also stilled.

“…Your Highness,” Selyse said carefully, “Your breasts… they are fuller. Tender, yes?”

Your breath hitched. You had noticed it days ago but had tried to ignore the swelling, the sensitivity. The way even the softest fabric sometimes made you wince.

Verra’s hands gently pressed against your lower belly, not quite a touch, more an assessment. “And the sickness every morning… the fatigue… the way you’ve been crying in your chambers…”

Your eyes filled with tears. You turned your face into your folded arms, shoulders shaking.

Selyse knelt beside the table, taking your hand gently. “My lady… are you with a child?”

You didn’t answer at first. Then a broken sob escaped you.

“I think so,” you whispered. “I… I don’t know for certain, but the timing…” Your voice cracked. “It would be his. Sir Jungkook’s.”

Both maids exchanged a heavy glance. This changed everything.

Verra spoke softly, “My lady... with your coronation approaching. The lords are already circling like vultures, pushing their sons at you. If this comes out before you choose a prince…”

“I know,” you said, voice muffled. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “I know what it means. But I can’t… I can’t just marry one of them. Not when I’m carrying the child of the only man I’ve ever loved.”

You sat up slowly, clutching the silk shift to your chest, arms wrapped protectively around your still flat stomach.

“My dear knight...” you sniffled. “He is out there fighting gods-know-what, and I’m here pretending to be the perfect princess while my body betrays our secret.”

Selyse brushed a strand of hair from your face with motherly tenderness. “We can hide it a little longer, Highness. Looser gowns. Ginger tea for the sickness. But you must decide soon what path you will take. The child… it will not stay hidden forever.”

You nodded, but your heart was breaking all over again. The thought of choosing one of those cold, ambitious princes while carrying Sir Jungkook’s child made you feel ill all over again.

Selyse pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice firm with loyalty. “We pray he returns soon, my lady. And until then, we will guard you and this little one with our lives.”

—

The weeks blurred into months as winter settled over the kingdom like a heavy white shroud. Snow blanketed the towers and gardens, turning the world soft and silent, yet inside your chest, the storm only grew louder.

Sir Jeon Jungkook had not returned.

Your belly had swelled noticeably now, a gentle but undeniable curve that marked the life growing within you. With the help of Elara, Verra, and Selyse, you hid it beneath layers of loose, flowing gowns and heavy cloaks lined with fur.

The rich fabrics concealed the truth for now, but you could no longer ignore the way your body changed, the tender fullness of your breasts, the occasional flutter of movement beneath your skin, and the constant, bone deep exhaustion.

You had begun excusing yourself from the suitors’ assemblies more frequently, claiming headaches or matters of state. But the King, grew increasingly impatient.

In the grand throne room one frost laced afternoon, he fixed you with a stern gaze as snow fell outside the tall windows. “You cannot delay any longer, daughter,” he spoke, heavy with royal command. “Prince Min of Viena is a strong candidate. The coronation is weeks away. You must choose a consort soon. The realm needs stability.”

You bowed your head, hands clasped tightly over your hidden belly beneath the voluminous velvet. “Yes, Father,” you murmured, the lie tasting like ash. Inside, your heart screamed for the only man you wanted.

Every few days, with your maids’ help, you sent letters. Verra would sneak them to a trusted rider, sealed with your private wax. You poured your soul onto the parchment; how much you missed him, the way your body was changing, the secret you carried, your love that only deepened with every passing day. Yet no responses ever came. The silence gnawed at you, feeding nightmares of him lying wounded on some distant battlefield or worse.

The worry became unbearable.

One bitter winter morning, wrapped in a thick hooded cloak that concealed your swollen middle, you slipped away from the castle with only Elara and Selyse accompanying you. The three of you rode through the snow dusted forest to a modest stone cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom, the home where Sir Jungkook had grown up.

When the door opened, an older woman with kind eyes and streaks of silver in her dark hair stood before you. Sir Jungkook’s mother. She froze at the sight of the princess on her doorstep, her hand flying to her chest.

“Your Highness…?” she whispered, stunned. “Surely I do not deserve to be blessed with your presence at my humble door. Please, come inside before the cold takes you.”

She ushered you, Elara, and Selyse quickly into the warm cottage, the scent of pinewood and baking bread wrapping around you like an embrace. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as she helped you remove your snow dusted cloak. Only when you were seated by the fire did her gaze drop to the unmistakable swell of your belly beneath the loose gown.

You took a steadying breath, your hands resting protectively over your rounded stomach.

“I carry his child,” you said softly, trembling with emotion. “Your son’s. Sir Jungkook’s. He does not know yet… he has not returned, and I… I needed to feel close to him somehow.”

Jungkook’s mother, Maera, stood completely still for a long moment, her eyes wide with shock. Then her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh… gods above,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “A grandchild…? From my Jungkook?” Fresh tears flowed freely as she dropped to her knees in front of you, taking your hands in hers with deep reverence. “My lady… my princess. You honor me beyond words. You honor my son. To think that you, a royal daughter, would carry his child… I am stunned. Truly stunned. And so deeply moved.”

She pressed her forehead to your knuckles, weeping quietly with pure joy and emotion. When she lifted her head again, her eyes shone with fierce affection.

“You are already family to me,” she whispered. “Come here, sweet child.” She rose and pulled you into a warm embrace, cradling you gently as if you were made of glass. “You must be so frightened, carrying this secret alone while he is away. But you are not alone anymore. Not while I draw breath.”

You felt safe in her arms, the weight on your heart easing just a little as winter wind howled softly outside the cottage walls.

After composing herself, Maera wiped her tears and fetched a small wooden chest from a shelf. She sat beside you, opening it with trembling hands.

“Look,” she said tenderly, pulling out several treasured items. She showed you a faded sketch of a chubby baby with dark, serious eyes —Sir Jungkook as an infant. Another portrait showed him as a sturdy little boy of four, holding a wooden sword with determination. There was even a lock of his soft baby hair tied with a ribbon.

“He was always so intense, even as a babe,” she said with a watery laugh. “Strong and quiet… but when he smiled, the whole world lit up. Just like I imagine your little one will.”

You traced the portraits with gentle fingers, tears slipping down your own cheeks. Seeing these glimpses of him as a child made your love for the knight swell even deeper. You could so clearly picture your baby with his eyes, his strength, his rare smile. The thought made your heart ache with both joy and longing.

Maera kept one hand over yours, cherishing you openly. “Thank you for coming to me,” she murmured. “For trusting me with this precious news. We will wait for him together, my daughter. And when he returns, he will be the happiest man alive.”

The two of you sat by the fire for a long while — his mother and the mother of his child, talking softly as snow continued to fall outside, bound by love for the same man.

The days after your visit to Maera’s cottage only deepened the ache in your soul. Winter grew harsher, and so did your impatience. Every morning you woke with your hands on your swelling belly, feeling the strong kicks of his child, and the longing became unbearable.

One evening in the royal chambers, you fell to your knees before the King, tears streaming down your face. “Father, please… I beg you. Bring Sir Jungkook back. I need him. I cannot do this without him.”

The King frowned, confused by your desperation. “Daughter, he is leading my forces on the border. The realm needs him there. Why this sudden insistence on one knight?”

You could not tell him the truth. “I just… need him,” you whispered brokenly. “Please.”

He did not relent. The pressure to choose a suitor only intensified.

And then the sickness took hold.

Your body ached constantly. deep soreness in your back, hips, and breasts that made every movement painful. The baby’s kicks, once a comfort, now left you breathless. You grew feverish and weak.

Elara, Verra, and Selyse rarely left your side, forcing herbal teas and bitter medicines down your throat while piling warm blankets over you. For nearly a week you were bedridden, barely able to leave your chambers, hidden away from the court under the excuse of a winter chill.

One cold, silent night, as snow tapped gently against the window panes, you drifted in and out of a fevered haze. The herbs made the world soft and blurry around the edges.

You thought it was a dream when the heavy door to your chambers opened with a quiet creak and a tall, familiar figure stepped inside, shedding his snow dusted cloak. The firelight caught on his sharp jawline and those intense dark eyes.

Strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you carefully as he climbed into your grand bed. A warm, calloused hand gently cradled your swollen belly. You felt the press of soft, reverent lips against the curve of your stomach.

“My love…” The knight’s deep voice whispered against your skin, rough with emotion. “I’m here. I finally came back to you.”

“Jungkook…?” you murmured drowsily, eyelids heavy, unsure if this was real or another cruel dream born of longing and medicine.

“It’s me,” he breathed, pulling your body flush against his solid chest. He was real. warm, solid, smelling of snow, leather, and the faint scent of campfires. “I’ve been aching for you every single day. Your touch, your voice… it kept me alive out there.”

His large hand stroked slow, soothing circles over your rounded belly, feeling the baby shift and kick beneath his palm. He lowered his head, pressing his lips directly to the taut skin.

You let out a tired, broken sound. “You left me… You promised you’d come back sooner. Look at me… I’m so sore, so heavy with your child, and you weren’t here…”

Sir Jungkook chuckled softly, the sound warm against your skin, even as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know, my princess. I deserve your scolding. I’m deeply sorry.” He kissed your belly again and again, soft open mouthed presses wherever he could reach. Then he trailed his lips higher, attaching his mouth gently to the swollen, aching curve of your breasts, sucking lightly and kissing away the soreness with such care that you whimpered in relief.

His hands never stopped moving, massaging the deep ache in your lower back, cupping and gently holding your heavy breasts to ease their weight, stroking your hips and thighs. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly as if afraid you might vanish.

“You are unreal, my love.” he murmured, voice hoarse with awe as he looked at you. “Your glow… it’s deeper now. The way pregnancy has changed you… you’re beyond anything I could have imagined. You shine like starlight. Carrying our child has only made you more radiant, more mine.”

You clung to him weakly, drowsy but desperate for his touch. “The baby… it kicks so much. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl… but it feels like you. Strong and stubborn.”

Jungkook smiled against your temple, one hand still resting warmly over your belly. “This child is the product of our love. A piece of both of us. I already love them more than life.” He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring months of aching into it. “Every battle, every cold night, I thought only of coming home to you like this… holding you, feeling our baby move, worshipping the body that’s creating our future.”

He continued kissing every place that ached... the sides of your breasts, the curve of your belly, the inside of your wrist, his mouth soft and devoted. You melted into him, the pain easing under his gentle care as he held you close.

“Stay…” you whispered tiredly, already slipping back into sleep.

“I’m here right now,” he promised, lips brushing your ear. “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you both.”

When morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, you woke slowly, body still aching but strangely comforted.

The bed beside you was cold. No warmth lingered. No cloak on the chair. No scent of him on the pillows. Only the faint memory of strong hands, whispered words to your belly, and soft kisses remained.

You touched your swollen stomach, feeling another firm kick, and tears filled your eyes.

Was it a dream? A fevered hallucination woven from medicine, longing, and love? Or had Sir Jungkook truly returned to you in the dead of night… only to disappear again before dawn?

The herbs and medicines your maids prepared worked their magic. The fever finally broke, the deep soreness in your body eased into a manageable ache, and the constant nausea faded. Though you were still tired, your strength slowly returned. Your belly continued to grow rounder and heavier, the baby’s kicks becoming more insistent and lively.

One quiet winter evening, when the moon hung full over the snow covered palace, your maids turned your chambers into a secret sanctuary.

Accompanied by Sir Jungkook’s mother, they had worked together in absolute secrecy. No one outside your trusted circle knew. They had decorated the large private solar adjacent to your bedroom with soft candlelight, evergreen boughs, and winter white roses. Warm furs and silk pillows were arranged in a luxurious nest near the hearth. Incense of myrrh filled the air, and a small table held gifts wrapped in fine cloth.

They helped you into a loose, flowing gown of the softest ivory silk that draped beautifully over your swollen belly, leaving your shoulders bare. When you stepped into the room, all four women bowed their heads in reverence.

Selyse took your hand and guided you to the center of the soft pillows. “Tonight we celebrate you, my lady. And the precious life you carry. No one else will know of this blessing. It is ours alone.”

They treated you with deep adoration, as though you were sacred.

Elara gently massaged your feet with warm scented oil while Maera brushed your hair until it shone. Verra offered you sweet honeyed fruits and warm spiced milk, foods meant to nourish both you and the baby. Selyse laid her hands lightly on your rounded belly and spoke soft blessings for a safe birth and a strong child.

Selyse, ever wise, placed a small crown of dried herbs and winter berries on your head. “You are the vessel of love and life,” she murmured. “Even in these uncertain times, you bloom. We honor you as our princess… and as the mother of Sir Jungkook’s heir.”

You felt tears prick your eyes as they presented their secret gifts: tiny embroidered blankets, a soft knitted cap in deep green, a small silver pendant shaped like a blooming rose, a symbol of motherhood.

Vera leaned her cheek against your belly for a moment, grinning when the baby kicked in response. “He or she is strong already. Just like their father.”

You placed both hands over your swollen stomach, feeling another firm flutter. The warmth of their love and the secret celebration soothed the constant ache of missing your knight.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “All of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Elara kissed your temple. “We will keep you and this little one safe until Sir Jungkook returns. And he will return.”

The warmth of the secret celebration lingered on your skin as you returned to your chambers that night. The maids had just helped you out of the ivory silk gown when a royal messenger knocked urgently.

“The King demands your presence immediately, Your Highness. In his private study.”

You had no time to prepare. Still glowing from the love and blessings of your maids, you wrapped yourself in a heavy velvet robe that concealed your very swollen belly and followed the messenger.

The moment you entered the study, the atmosphere turned icy. Your father stood behind his desk, several of your letters spread before him.

“Daughter,” he spoke, controlled. “I have given you time to come to me yourself. I know you have been sending letters to the front lines. To Sir Jungkook, specifically.” He turned to face you, his expression stern but not yet furious. “I know of your… admiration for him. Speak truthfully now. What is this attachment?”

Your throat tightened. This was the moment. With your belly heavy with his child and your heart aching, you could no longer hide everything.

“Father…” you began, voice trembling as you stepped closer. “It is more than admiration. I love him. Sir Jungkook is the only man I want.” Your hands instinctively moved to cradle your stomach. “And I… I am carrying his child.”

Silence crashed over the room.

The King’s eyes widened, then narrowed sharply as his gaze dropped to the unmistakable swell beneath your gown. His face darkened with shock, then rage.

“You what?” he hissed. “A knight’s bastard? While I have been parading princes before you? While the entire realm waits for you to secure the throne with a proper alliance?”

“Father, please,” you begged, tears filling your eyes. “It is his. Our love is real. If you would only let him return, we could—”

The King’s face twisted with fury. “You dare speak such filth to me? A royal princess swollen with a common knight’s bastard?”

You rebelled, voice shaking but defiant. “It is not filth. It is love. I will not marry Prince Min. I will not let you use me as a pawn for alliances while I carry the man I love’s child.”

“Enough!” The King slammed his fist on the table, making you flinch. “I have been patient with your childish infatuation, but this is treason against your bloodline. You will do as you are told! Your fate is sealed. You will marry Prince Min before the month ends.”

Later that same night, before your maids could even calm you, you found your most trusted rider in the stables. With tears streaming down your face and snow falling around you, you whispered your final message: “Tell him… tell Sir Jungkook that I will wait for him. No matter how long it takes. My heart is his alone. I will wait.”

The rider bowed and galloped into the night. No response ever came.

The next weeks were a nightmare.

Prince Min visited often, his eyes raking over your body with open lust and infatuation. He complimented your “ethereal glow”, clearly aroused by your pregnant form, but his arrogance disgusted you. He spoke openly of claiming the throne through you, of bedding you the moment you were his. You hated him with every fiber of your being.

You fought your father harder than ever, refusing to attend meetings with Prince Min, screaming that you would rather die than marry him. But the King had reached his limit.

One brutal afternoon, he summoned you again and placed a bloodied cloak and a forged letter before you.

“Sir Jeon Jungkook is dead,” he said flatly. “He fell in battle two weeks ago. This is proof.”

The world shattered.

You collapsed to the floor, a guttural sob tearing from your throat. The baby inside you kicked as if sensing your pain. From that moment, you broke completely.

You refused to eat. You barely slept. You stopped speaking, even to Elara, Verra, and Selyse who begged you through tears to think of the child. You lay in bed for days, staring at nothing, your once radiant glow fading into pale exhaustion. Your maids feared for both your life and the baby’s.

Despite how numb you had become, when your maids gently suggested taking you to Maera’s quiet home on the edge of the forest, you agreed without protest. You were taken there in secret under the cover of night.

Maera, a strong but grieving woman with the same dark eyes as her son, took you in without question. She cared for you with quiet hands and even quieter words. You didn’t speak much to her either, but you accepted her care wholeheartedly. After all, she was mourning the loss of her son, and you were mourning the loss of your lover and the father of your child.

The King, despite his fury, still sent guards to watch over you from a distance. You were still royalty, still carrying what he believed might be his grandchild. But you could only think of the protection you once had... the strongest, safest pair of arms that had ever wrapped around you.

You mourned deeply. But you couldn’t be completely selfish with a baby on the way, restless and eager to come into the world.

The labor came on a stormy night.

The pains started suddenly and violently. Maera and your maids worked frantically around you as you screamed and cried, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. The King himself had ridden out in secret when he heard you had gone into labor, standing outside the cottage with a face pale with rare fear.

He didn’t know how to comfort you. He only knew one thing, his daughter was calling for her knight in her delirium.

Even though he viewed the child as the product of a sinful affair, something in him softened at the sound of your broken sobs. He could not lose you.

Inside the cottage, you gave birth to a baby girl.

She was small, chubby, with a shock of raven hair and big, dark eyes that looked exactly like her father’s. The moment the midwife placed her on your chest, fresh tears streamed down your face.

“She looks like him…” you whispered, hoarse and broken. “My little love… she has his eyes.”

You held her close, sobbing softly as the pain and grief mixed with a fragile, overwhelming love. Even in your exhaustion, you couldn’t stop crying. You believed Sir Jungkook was dead. The thought that your daughter would never know her father tore you apart.

Maera wept beside you, gently stroking your hair. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Just like her mother.”

Outside, the King stood in the rain, waiting.

When the door finally opened and the midwife stepped out, he demanded to know if you and the child were alive. Upon hearing they both were, something in his hardened heart shifted.

He turned to his captain without a word and gave the order.

“Send riders to the western borders at once. Bring Sir Jeon Jungkook back. Tell him… his princess has need of him.”

It would take time. The borders were far, and the roads were muddy from the storms. A week, perhaps a month.

In the quiet warmth of the cottage, you held your newborn daughter against your chest, wrapped in soft linen.

You rocked her gently as she fussed against your breast, nursing hungrily. Your maids and Maera moved around you, bringing broth, fresh cloths, and ever soft words. But you barely spoke. The grief had hollowed you out.

“I wish you could meet your father,” you whispered to the baby one quiet night, voice cracking. Tears slipped down your cheeks as she latched on again. “He would have held you so carefully. He would have loved you more than anything in this world. He would have protected us both…”

Maera sat beside you, her own eyes red from mourning. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would have been so proud,” she said softly. “Of both of you.”

You could only nod, throat too tight to speak. The emptiness inside you felt endless. Every time the baby cried, every time she looked up at you with those familiar dark eyes, the pain returned like a fresh wound.

The King demanded your return to the palace, as you were still royalty, still bound to your father’s will despite carrying a child out of wedlock. He wrote letter after letter insisting you resume your duties and prepare for the inevitable marriage to Prince Min. You refused to answer most of them.

Your maids tried their best to comfort you, but even they could not reach the depths of your sorrow. The only light in your world was your daughter. Tiny, perfect, with Jungkook’s dark eyes and a tuft of raven hair. You held her constantly, whispering stories about her father, singing lullabies with a voice that often broke halfway through.

You mourned him deeply. The King had not even granted him a proper funeral. No rites. No chance to say goodbye. Just a bloodied cloak and a cold declaration.

One quiet evening, Maera left the cottage to fetch groceries from the nearby village. Your maids had been called back to the palace on the King’s orders, duties they could not refuse. For the first time in weeks, it was just you and your baby in the small, warm cottage.

You sat by the window, cradling her in your arms. She cooed softly, tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you gently rocked her. For a few precious minutes, you allowed yourself to smile a real, soft smile as you played with her little hands and kissed her forehead.

“My baby,” you whispered, “The loveliest babe. Don’t tell the queens and princesses, I think they’d be terribly jealous.”

The baby blinked up at you. “Oh, yes,” you continued solemnly. “Especially of those cheeks.”

You leaned back in the chair as exhaustion eventually won over you, your eyes growing heavy. With your daughter nestled safely against your chest, sleep claimed you quickly.

When you woke, the cottage was awfully quiet.

Your arms were empty.

Panic slammed into you like a physical blow. You shot upright, heart hammering wildly as you looked around the room.

The baby was gone.

“No… no, no, no...” you gasped, stumbling to your feet, voice rising into a broken sob. “Where is my baby?!”

You searched frantically, under the blankets, behind the chairs, near the hearth, terror clawing at your throat. Your mind spun with nightmarish possibilities. Had someone taken her? Had the King sent men to steal her away?

Then you saw him.

A tall figure standing near the doorway, cradling your daughter gently in his strong arms. She was sleeping peacefully against his chest, tiny fist curled into his tunic.

Your knees buckled.

It was Sir Jungkook.

He looked exhausted, travel worn, mud on his boots, shadows under his eyes, but he was alive. Real. His dark eyes met yours, filled with unbearable love and pain.

You stared at him, trembling violently, refusing to believe what you were seeing.

“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, this isn’t real. You’re dead. They told me you were dead. This is another dream. You always come in my dreams and then you leave me again—”

Your voice cracked into a sob as you backed away, hands clutching your chest.

“You left me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You left me and our child. I mourned you. I almost died mourning you. Please… don’t do this to me again. I can’t take another dream. I can’t wake up to find you gone again.”

Sir Jungkook’s face crumpled with anguish. He took one careful step forward, still cradling your daughter like the most precious thing in the world.

“My love,” he said hoarsely, voice breaking. “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m real. Your father… he lied. He sent me away to the borders to keep me from you. But I came back the moment he allowed it. I rode without stopping.”

You shook your head harder, tears falling faster, refusing to believe it even as your heart screamed at you to run to him.

“You’re dead,” you repeated, voice small and shattered. “You have to be dead… because if you’re not, then you let me believe it. You never answered my letters. Not one. I wrote to you every single day, pouring my heart out, begging you to come back to me, to our child… and you never...”

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as the pain twisted deeper.

“You were in on it, weren’t you?” you whispered, voice breaking. “You let my father tell me you were gone. You left me here to rot in grief while I carried your child alone. How could you?”

The knight’s face crumpled with agony. He took a step forward, but you flinched, and he stopped immediately, hands trembling at his sides.

Before he could speak, your daughter stirred in his arms. As if sensing the suffocating tension in the room, she let out a sharp, hungry cry, her little lips puckering, tiny fists waving.

You moved without thinking, reaching for her. Sir Jungkook gently handed her over, his hands lingering for a moment as if afraid to let go. You turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed and loosening your dress to feed her. The baby latched on eagerly, her cries softening into small, contented sounds.

The knight stood there, watching you in silence. He looked lost, this battle-hardened soldier, returned from war, now completely unsure how to comfort the woman he loved. He slowly lowered himself to his knees in the middle of the room, head bowed.

“I wrote to you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Every chance I had. Your father… he made sure none of my letters reached you. He wanted you to believe I was gone. I fought every day to come back to you. I almost died trying to get word to you.”

You didn’t look at him. You kept your eyes on your daughter, tears falling silently onto her soft hair.

“I mourned you like a widow,” you whispered, voice thick with pain. “I almost died. And now you’re here… acting like you didn’t abandon me when I needed you most.”

The words cut awfully deep. Sir Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, but he stayed on his knees, silent and respectful, giving you the space your wounded heart demanded.

Your daughter stirred in your arms, letting out a small, distressed whimper as if she could sense the storm raging between her parents. You rocked her gently, pressing a kiss to her soft raven hair.

“Shh, my sweet one,” you cooed softly, “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”

Sir Jungkook’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, to touch you, to hold both of you, but he remained still, jaw clenched tight. He was no longer in full armor, only a worn tunic and breeches, his appearance shambled from the long ride, fresh bruises blooming across his knuckles and jaw.

You turned away from him, focusing on the small tasks that had become your life in the cottage. The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the roof like a relentless drum.

You moved about the space, stirring the pot of stew over the fire, folding fresh linens, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind from breaking completely.

Hours passed in heavy silence. When your daughter finally grew fussy again, you nursed her by the hearth until her little eyes fluttered shut. You laid her gently in the wooden cradle Maera had prepared, stroking her cheek one last time before covering her with a soft blanket.

Only then did you notice movement near the door.

Sir Jungkook was standing there, cloak in hand, quietly preparing to leave.

Something inside you fractured. You stepped toward him, voice cracking. “You’re leaving again?”

He turned slowly, eyes filled with torment. “I was only going to check the perimeter. The rain is heavy, and I… I didn’t want to burden you further.”

You stared at him, this warrior who had survived hell just to return to you, and the dam finally broke.

“Come here,” you whispered.

He obeyed without hesitation.

You led him to your bed and with trembling hands, you began removing his tunic, revealing the damage the war had left behind.

New bruises painted his ribs and shoulders in shades of purple and blue. Fresh scars, still healing, cut across his chest and abdomen. He looked harder, a man who had walked through fire and barely returned.

Your lips trembled, but you forced yourself to stay steady. You turned away briefly, gathering clean linen strips, salve, and a bowl of warm water. When you returned, the knight stood perfectly still, letting you see all of him, the bruises, the brutal evidence of everything he had endured just to return to you.

You began tending to him in silence, your hands gentle as you cleaned a particularly nasty cut along his side. But the more you looked, the more the dam inside you cracked.

“What have they done to you, Jungkook?” you whispered, voice breaking. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you carefully wrapped a bandage around his ribs. “You’re… you’re covered in pain. All of this… just to come back to me?”

He stood motionless, letting you care for him, but his dark eyes never left your face.

“I would go through it a thousand times more,” he said softly, “if it meant coming back to you and our daughter.”

You shook your head, fresh tears falling as you pressed a bandage over another wound. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I can’t bear thinking of you suffering like this. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again, and now you’re here… broken because of me.”

Sir Jungkook slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you, even though you were still trying to tend to him. The powerful knight, the man who had survived war, knelt before you like the loyal protector he had always been.

“Your Highness,” he murmured, head slightly bowed, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you. I wasn’t here when you needed me most. I wasn’t here when you carried our child. I wasn’t here when you gave birth. I wasn’t here when they told you I was gone. Forgive me.”

You dropped the bandages and pulled him into your arms, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, clinging to you like a man who had almost lost everything.

A broken sob tore from his throat.

Your knight, your warrior, the strongest person you had ever known, cried against your chest like a child. Deep, shuddering sobs that shook his powerful frame as his arms tightened around you.

“I thought I lost you,” he choked out, voice muffled against your skin. “Every night on the border, I prayed I would make it back to you. To both of you.”

You held him tighter, fingers threading through his raven hair, your own tears falling onto his head.

“You’re here now,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re here. You came back to us. That’s all that matters.”

For a long time, the only sounds in the cottage were the rain outside, the crackling fire, and the quiet, heartbroken sobs of a knight who had finally returned to his princess.

—

The rain had not eased by the middle of the night. It hammered against the thatched roof like an impatient army. You had fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms on the narrow bed, your daughter nestled safely in her cradle beside you. For the first time in months, your sleep was deep and dreamless.

A sharp knock on the cottage door shattered the peace.

Sir Jungkook was awake in an instant. He slipped from the bed silently, pulling on his tunic and reaching for the sword he had left by the door. His body was still tense from war, every muscle ready for threat.

“Stay here,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I will see who it is.”

But you already knew.

A cold certainty settled in your chest. You rose, wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, and followed him despite his warning. Your daughter stirred but remained asleep.

Sir Jungkook opened the door, sword half drawn, rain pouring behind the figure standing outside.

It was the King.

Your father stood in the downpour, cloak heavy with water, face pale and drawn. Guards waited at a respectful distance, torches flickering weakly in the storm. His eyes moved past your knight and landed on you.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then the King stepped inside without invitation, water dripping onto the wooden floor. His gaze softened when it fell on you — his only daughter, still pale from childbirth, carrying the weight of grief and motherhood.

“My child,” he said, voice rough. “You must return to the palace. You are still royalty. Still my blood. You do not belong in a cottage like this.”

You stood straighter, even as exhaustion and lingering pain made your body ache.

“I belong where I choose,” you replied quietly, but firmly. “And I will not return without Sir Jeon. He is my knight. He is the father of my daughter. He stays with me.”

The King’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jungkook, who stood tall and silent beside you, sword now lowered but ready.

“I know what you are to each other,” the King said heavily. “I have known for some time. Prince Min is a fool and a coward, but his bloodline is strong. The alliance—”

“I will not marry him,” you cut in, voice steady despite the tears gathering in your eyes. “I will return to the palace. I will perform my duties as princess, as future queen. I will be the ruler this kingdom needs. But only if Sir Jungkook remains at my side. As my knight. As the man I have chosen. As the only man with any right to me.”

The King looked at you for a long time. He saw the woman you had become, not just his rebellious daughter, but a figure of quiet strength. The people in the surrounding villages spoke of you with reverence. They told stories of the princess who helped common women, shared food during hard winters, who listened to their troubles as if they mattered as much as any noble’s.

The King exhaled slowly, defeated but not broken.

“Very well,” he said at last. “Sir Jeon will return with you. He will remain your personal knight. But this… affair… must remain hidden from the court. For now.”

You nodded once, relief flooding through you.

The King’s gaze drifted to the cradle where your daughter slept. He had not yet seen her. You had kept her away from him, protecting her with every fiber of your being.

He took one hesitant step toward the cradle, then stopped, as if afraid.

The King’s shoulders sagged. For the first time in years, he looked truly old.

“Bring her home,” he said quietly. “Both of you. We will find a way.”

When the heavy door of the cottage finally closed behind your father, you let out a huge, shaky sigh. The weight of the conversation pressed on your chest like a stone. You turned and walked to the cradle, gently lifting your daughter into your arms. She stirred but settled quickly against your chest.

Sir Jungkook followed silently behind you, his presence warm.

“I would not trust him,” you whispered, voice laced with bitterness. “My father lied. He did all of this, told me you were dead, kept us apart, made me believe I had lost you forever. How can I believe a single word he says now?”

Jungkook stepped closer. He gently wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head as you held your daughter.

“Petal,” he murmured softly, the old endearment slipping out like a balm. “Your father is a hard man, but he is not as cold as he pretends to be. He sent for me the moment he learned you had gone into labor. He could have kept me away forever. But he didn’t.”

You turned slightly in his arms, eyes wide with disbelief.

The knight continued, low and calm.

“There was one night… when you were still heavy with our child and very sick. I rode through a storm to reach you. Your father allowed it. He let me see you. I held you while you slept, fevered and restless. I whispered to you. I kissed your forehead and promised I would return. But I had to leave before dawn. He made me swear not to wake you. He said it would only make the pain worse when I had to go back to the borders.”

You stared at him, stunned. Tears welled up again.

“That night… it was real?” you whispered. “I thought it was a dream. I thought I imagined your arms around me.”

“It was real,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I was there. And I have regretted leaving you every single day since.”

You turned fully toward him, still cradling your daughter. The baby had woken and was fussing softly. You loosened your dress and began to feed her.

Sir Jungkook watched the two of you with such open love and longing that it made your chest ache.

“She has your eyes,” you said softly, brushing a finger over your daughter’s cheek. “So dark and beautiful. Just like yours.”

Sir Jungkook’s expression softened further. He reached out, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand.

“And she is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured. “I hope she grows to be as strong as her. As kind. As full of fire and love.”

For a while, the only sounds were the soft suckling of your daughter and the rain pattering against the roof. Sir Jungkook stayed close, one arm around your waist, the other lightly resting near the baby.

Eventually, after your daughter had fallen asleep again, you made the decision.

“We will return to the palace,” you said quietly. “Together. As a family. I will not hide anymore.”

The next morning, after tender farewells to Maera, who hugged you both tightly and kissed her granddaughter’s forehead with tears in her eyes, you left the cottage.

—

Three Months Later,

The palace had transformed around you.

After your return, the finest healers in the realm were summoned, learned men and women versed in herbs and ancient remedies. They tended to you with the utmost care, restoring the strength you had lost in grief and childbirth. Slowly, the hollow exhaustion faded. Color returned to your cheeks. Your body healed, and with it, your spirit bloomed once more.

You were treated not merely as royalty, but as something sacred. The people whispered that the Princess had returned more radiant than before, as if the earth itself had blessed her.

Your maids, Elara, Verra, and Selyse, were beyond ecstatic to have you back. They fussed over you constantly, brushing your long hair until it shone, dressing you in the finest silks, and whispering prayers of gratitude for your safe return.

The kingdom now knew the truth: the child was Sir Jeon Jungkook’s. The scandal had spread like wildfire, but instead of outrage, most of the people embraced it. They saw their princess glowing, and fiercely protected.

Prince Min had tried to slander you upon his return, calling you impure, unfit, a disgrace for bearing a knight’s child out of wedlock. Sir Jungkook had nearly killed him in the great hall before the King’s guards pulled him back. Prince Min was expelled from the kingdom that very day, the alliance shattered. No one mourned his departure.

It was a warm evening when you returned to the royal bathing pool, surrounded by floating lily pads and fragrant white blossoms. The water shimmered under the sunlight as your maids helped you undress. Your daughter, now three months old and full of life, babbled happily in Elara’s arms, reaching for you with chubby little hands.

“Come here, my sweet,” you cooed, taking her into the warm water with you. She immediately nestled against your bare chest, tiny fingers grasping at your long, wavy hair as you gently rocked her. She was a needy little thing, always wanting her mother’s warmth, her scent, her voice.

Verra smiled as she poured scented oil over your shoulders. “She adores you, my lady. Look at those big, bejeweled eyes.”

You glanced toward the far bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, as always. He was no longer forced to hide. He remained your personal knight, ever watchful and devoted. His gaze met yours across the water, soft with love and quiet pride. He had become even more protective since your return, rarely leaving your side unless duty demanded it.

The King had grown strangely silent on the matter of your relationship. Seeing you flourish and beloved by the people, had turned him into something of a coward when it came to opposing you.

He doted on his granddaughter in private, though he still struggled to fully accept the circumstances. Yet he no longer pushed for any other marriage. He had seen what happened when he tried to separate you from your knight.

Bit by bit, your beauty had deepened into something almost otherworldly, skin luminous, eyes bright with life, a gentle fullness to your figure from motherhood that only made you more captivating. You moved through the palace performing your duties with grace while still finding time to help the common women who came to the gates seeking aid. You had become more than a princess.

At night, when the palace slept, Sir Jungkook was yours completely.

He would slip into your chambers, shed his armor, and worship you with slow hands and mouth. He made love to you like a man who had walked through hell and returned only for this. You clung to him every night, whispering how much you loved him, how you had chosen him long before the crown ever mattered.

Your daughter babbled softly, pulling at your long hair again with her tiny fist, drawing a soft, delighted laugh from you.

“Oh, my little one,” you cooed, gently untangling her fingers from your waves before pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “You are going to pull Mama’s hair right off if you keep that up, aren’t you? Such a strong little flower.”

She giggled in your arms, reaching up to pat your face with her small, uncoordinated hand, her big dark eyes, exact replicas of her father’s, sparkling with pure joy. The resemblance was almost startling even at such a young age. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Elara sighed dreamily as she poured warm water over your shoulders. “Look at her, my lady. She is perfection. She already has the whole palace wrapped around her tiny finger.”

Verra nodded, gently massaging oil into your hair. “And you, my princess. You glow like the sun itself these days. Motherhood suits you more than any crown ever could.”

Selyse, ever the wise one, glanced toward the bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, fully armored but with his helmet removed today. A small, teasing smile tugged at her lips.

“And that one over there… he can’t take his eyes off the two of you. Look at him, standing there like a lovesick fool in steel. Our fierce knight, brought to his knees by a baby and her mother.”

The knight’s ears turned faintly red, but he didn’t deny it. His gaze remained soft, locked on you and your daughter with quiet awe and devotion.

Later that evening, in the royal rose gardens where he had once walked beside you as your new knight, Sir Jungkook carried your daughter in his arms.

He was still in full armor, crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders, but he held her with such careful gentleness it made your heart melt. The baby was dressed in the softest cream colored gown embroidered with tiny golden flowers, a little bonnet tied under her chin. She looked like a living doll against his armored chest.

She reached up with both hands, grabbing at the edge of his armor, babbling excitedly as she tried to pull herself closer to his face. When he leaned down, she patted his cheek with a wet, sloppy kiss.

Sir Jungkook’s entire expression softened into something almost boyish. He smiled, genuine and devastatingly handsome.

“My little love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

You walked beside them, heart full as you watched your daughter play with the buckles on his armor. Every time he lowered his head to let her see his face, she lit up. But when he playfully put his helmet back on for a moment to tease her, she immediately fussed, letting out a small, indignant cry and reaching for him with both arms.

“No helmet,” you laughed softly. “She hates it. She wants to see her father’s face.”

Sir Jungkook removed it immediately, tucking it under one arm while cradling her with the other. He leaned down so she could press her tiny palms against his cheeks and give him another sloppy kiss on the jaw.

The maids watching from a distance cooed and teased him lightly.

“Look at that,” Verra whispered loudly enough for him to hear. “Who would have thought the man who survived the western borders would be brought down by tiny hands and gummy smiles?”

Later that night, the heavy oak door to your royal chambers was barred, only the soft glow of candles and the low fire in the hearth illuminated the room.

You stood before the tall mirror, slowly changing into your nightgown. The fabric whispered against your skin as it slid down your body. Your gaze caught on the beautiful ring on your finger, the one Sir Jungkook had slipped onto your hand in secret weeks ago, a quiet promise between the two of you. You turned it gently, a small, private smile touching your lips.

Your daughter lay nestled against your bare chest, warm and content, her tiny fingers curled around the edge of your loosened gown. She babbled softly, her big dark eyes full of adoration for her mother.

Sir Jungkook stood a few steps behind you, fully armored except for his helmet, watching the two of you with quiet awe. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting every healed scar and the lingering shadows of war that still clung to him.

You gently laid your daughter in her ornate cradle, pressing one last kiss to her forehead as she drifted into sleep. Then you returned to the mirror, picking up the silver brush to run it through your long, wavy hair.

Sir Jungkook followed without a word. He stopped behind you, his large hands resting lightly on your waist. Slowly, he leaned down and began pressing soft kisses along your bare arms, from shoulder to wrist, as you continued brushing your hair.

You giggled softly, cheeks flushing with that familiar shyness even after all this time.

“Jungkook…” you murmured, breathy. “You ought to distract me.”

“Good,” he whispered against your skin, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “I have missed you all day. I need my darling.”

He dropped to his knees behind you with a quiet clink of armor, bowing his head in his familiar, devoted way. You turned to face him, running your fingers through his raven hair, then tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scars that remained on his face.

You saddened for a moment, remembering the brutality he had endured.

But he looked up at you with such pure worship that it took your breath away. To him, you were more than a princess. you were his salvation, the very source of life that had healed him.

You pulled him closer, and he rose, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and carrying you to the grand bed.

The knight laid you down gently, then began to worship you with slow, reverent hands. He unlaced your nightgown with painstaking care, peeling the silk away until you were bare before him. His mouth found your breasts immediately, sucking softly on one sensitive nipple, then the other, drinking the sweet milk that flowed for him with deep, grateful groans.

You moaned softly, fingers threading through his hair as he fed from you, his tongue swirling, lips sealed tight around your peak. He drank like a man who had been starving for you, savoring every drop as if it were the very essence of life itself.

Sir Jungkook groaned deeply against your breast, the sound vibrating through your chest as he drank almost desperately. His large hand cradled the soft weight of your breast, squeezing gently to draw more from you while his other hand stroked your side with reverent tenderness.

“So sweet,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and worshipful. “You give me life, my petal. You heal what war tried to break.”

You whimpered, arching into his mouth, overwhelmed by the intimate, sacred act, fresh heat blooming between your thighs.

When he finally released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with dark, adoring eyes.

“You are my salvation,” he murmured, kissing the valley between your breasts before moving lower. “The mother of my child. The light that brought me home.”

When he finally moved lower, he spread your thighs with firm hands and settled between them. He looked up at you once, eyes dark with devotion, before lowering his mouth to your core.

He worshipped your flower, seeking nectar with slow, deep licks that made your back arch, followed by gentle suction on your swollen clit. His tongue delved inside you, tasting every inch, groaning at your sweetness as if it were the most sacred thing he had ever known.

You whimpered and moaned, hips rolling against his handsome face as pleasure built in waves. He was relentless yet tender, bringing you to the edge again and again before letting you tip over.

When you finally begged for him, voice trembling with need, Sir Jungkook rose above you like a knight before his altar.

He did not rush. Instead, he sat back on his heels, dark eyes drinking in every inch of your bare, flushed body with such raw hunger that it made your skin burn. You felt vulnerable and impossibly desired under that gaze. A shy, breathless giggle escaped your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.

Sir Jungkook reached out with one large, calloused hand and traced a single finger slowly down your body, from the delicate line of your throat, between your heaving breasts, over the soft curve of your belly, and down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch ever so feather light, yet it left fire in its wake.

“You are a goddess made flesh,” he whispered, voice hoarse with awe. “And I am but a mortal who has been granted the honor of kneeling at your feet.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to your thigh in a gesture of pure worship, eyes closed, breath warm against your skin as if he were praying to the only deity he had ever believed in.

Then he moved over you, settling between your spread thighs. His thick cock pressed against your entrance, hot and heavy. He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed inside, inch by thick, stretching inch, filling you so completely that your mouth fell open in a silent cry.

You dug your nails into his back as he began to move, first slow and loving, then harder, deeper, claiming you with every thrust.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, hips snapping forward. “I love you more than life itself.”

When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears of overwhelming pleasure in your eyes. Jungkook followed moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a low, broken groan, filling you with pulse after pulse of his release.

In the quiet that followed, with the knight’s arms still wrapped around you and the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, it was strangely easy to remember the day he had first knelt before the throne.

The impenetrable knight clad in steel, sworn to protect a princess draped in silk. and protect you he would, as though it had been carved into the marrow of every breath he would draw, for eternity.