Look, dont touch. ︱ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ oneshot.
mafia jeon jungkook set his eyes on you long before you ever noticed him. you, the club’s silent dancer, the one who never spoke, never allowed a single touch yet left men breathless with every movement. a fantasy men paid thousands just to witness, a mystery wrapped in silk and silence. one look at you, and jeon knew that resistance would be futile.
⎯⎯ pairing: mafia jeon x stripper y/n
• warnings: 18+ mdni, dark, smut, erotic, obsession, yearning, kinky, angst, selectivelymute!y/n, bigdick!jk, softdom!jk.
〴note: i didn’t think id share this because i was really insecure abt it for the longest time, but i‘ve made some nunu changes so here we are. think of this oneshot as a soft, reverent kiss on the cheek from me to you. ︴
The club had been the posession of Jeon for exactly seven days.
No more crowds, no more wandering eyes. No more hands reaching for what was never theirs to begin with.
Jeon had burned every bridge, erased 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 heartbeat that mattered now was the one hammering between your locked gazes.
You circled the pole once, eyes never leaving his.
Jeon’s breath stayed even, but his fingers tightened slightly on the armrest. He could feel the aching, 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 for business only.
Corrupt politicians sat across from Jeon in the VIP lounge, sealing dirty deals in low voices while his men guarded the doors, guns heavy in their pockets. 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 done, he stood, lighting a cigarette as he headed 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 sound.
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 collision. His eyes were black ice, 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 like a blade between the ribs. Your chest rose and fell rapidly against his grip, but no words came.
Jeon clicked his tongue, annoyed at the lack of apology, intrigued by the delicate creature trembling under his hold. He stepped closer, crowding you back against the cold wall until his broad frame swallowed yours completely as he pinned you there. The barrel of the gun lowered slowly, but he didn’t release you.
You were tiny compared to him. His broad frame completely eclipsed yours, caging you in without effort. Yet even in fear, you held a quiet, striking beauty that hit him harder than it should have.
He lowered the barrel slowly, but didn’t release you. Instead, he leaned in and blew a thin stream of smoke directly into your face.
You coughed; soft and startled, the first sound he ever heard from you.
It was barely a breath, fragile and sweet, and something dark and possessive stirred low in his gut.
Jeon traced the edge of the gun slowly down the side of your neck, the cold metal gliding over your pulse point. He was looking for a whimper, a flinch, any sound of fear. Instead, you only gasped silently, lips parting further, body staying perfectly still despite the tremble running through your smaller frame.
His free hand rose, knuckles brushing your soft cheek with surprising gentleness for a man who had just held a gun to your head. He watched the pretty blush bloom under his touch, your big eyes glassy with fear. You were breathtaking.
“Pretty little thing,” he said quietly, almost to himself, dark eyes drinking you in. “All quiet and scared… but you don’t run. Interesting.”
Before he could push further, hurried footsteps echoed.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon!” Your manager came rushing, bowing repeatedly, voice shaking. “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, 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 him.
He left that night with interest already blooming like poison in his veins.
Jeon returned the next friday for another deal. This time, while he was making his way out, he saw you once again when you stepped onto the stage, moving like liquid shadow whilst the crowd whistled and threw bills, but you never smiled, never engaged. Your eyes scanned the room once… and landed on him.
Tension crackled instantly, thick and electric. You held his gaze longer than anyone else’s.
Later, after your set, Jeon watched from 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, “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 call that night.
By the third visit, fewer men lingered near the stage when you danced.
By the fifth, the ones who still tried to approach you started disappearing.
And now, seven days after he bought the entire club, 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, silk robe sliding off one shoulder, the same calm mask on your face that never cracked for anyone. Your eyes found his immediately. Not by accident, not shyly. They locked on unblinking, the way they had every single night since the first time he sat in that booth months ago.
The same quiet fear lived in your eyes, the same deep, unspoken sadness. But tonight, there was something else threading through it... resignation, maybe. Or the first fragile thread of curiosity.
Jeon sat perfectly still in the wide leather chair, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other resting on his thigh. Black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He didn’t smile, didn’t speak first. He simply let the tension stretch between you like a live 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 set underneath, lace 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 controlled, never giving enough.
Jeon’s breath stayed even, but his fingers tightened slightly on the armrest. He could feel the obsession clawing deeper under his skin, soft, aching and all consuming.
You dropped low, thighs parting as you sank into a slow crouch, 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 you brushed against the air in front of him, close enough that he could smell the faint vanilla on your skin, but never enough to taste it.
Your palms slid up the pole again as you spun, slow and sinful, one leg hooking high, body stretching into a perfect line that made the ache in his chest twist into something hotter.
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 touch you again.e simply watched, dark eyes heavy with the kind of worship that only a man like him could give, soft in its intensity, dangerous in its patience.
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 club. 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, 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 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 obsession burn hotter, because he respected you. Needed you to come to him on your own terms.
Jeon couldn’t handle the temptation much longer.
Months of watching you, months of 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 mumbled a quiet curse under his breath, shifting in his seat as you slid down gracefully and sat on the edge of the small stage, 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.
Your eyes widened slightly, that familiar fear and sadness flickering, but something else shimmered there too, heat, the same quiet intensity that had been building between you for months.
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, 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, controlled exhale, eyes darkening to near black as he leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
He could see everything except the center of you: the smooth skin of your inner thighs, the soft curve where your ass met the stage, the way your fingers trembled 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, 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, eyes never leaving the place where your hand disappeared between your spread thighs.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice thick with restrained hunger.
Your cheeks adorned a soft flush, thighs trembling as you spread them even wider for him, giving him the full 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. Wanted to pry your thighs open wider, pull your palm away, and finally see what you hid so tenderly and what he deemed belonged to him.
Wanted to sink two thick fingers deep inside you, curl them slow while his thumb worked your clit. He wanted to replace that shy little hand with his own so fucking badly. Wanted to pry your thighs open wider until you broke that perfect silence with his name. Wanted to taste you, then pull you into his lap and keep you there safe, owned and protected until the fear in your eyes disappeared for good.
Your fingers pressed harder beneath your palm, 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, 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 before you reached the hallway.
Your body jerked backward from the force, 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, 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 out of fear. The hallway felt smaller now, the sounds of music from the main room distant and unreachable.
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 as 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, hot and unstoppable, 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 lower than before, softer.
“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, the 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 something tight beneath it, something restrained. “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 with careful restraint.
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 the word stirred unease 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, your breath catching in surprise as he gathered you carefully into his arms, as if he had carried fragile things before and knew exactly how much strength to use.
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 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, though you didn’t recognize the face, stood nearby, silent and attentive. Their 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, 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.
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 bare walls. There was almost nothing here, nothing that suggested comfort, safety, or even basic living.
Jeon slowly lowered you onto the mattress, his movements careful as he released his hold. 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, gaze moving slowly across the room, taking in every detail of the worn fabric of your blanket, the absence of anything resembling security or protection.
Then his eyes shifted downward, toward the corner of the mattress, noticing the slight bulge beneath it.
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, 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.” The words came suddenly, cutting 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. His jaw tightened slightly, a faint muscle ticking beneath the skin as if he were holding something back.
“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, his expression hard but not cruel. There was frustration there, yes, but beneath it sat something that looked dangerously close to concern.
“You have money,” he said, his voice quieter now 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.
And 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, almost gentle. “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 and closing filled the space behind you, leaving you alone with the weight of his absence.
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, a hand halfway out to the doorknob, eyes wide as he registered the unexpected voice.
“Don’t go,” you murmured, 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 cross the boundaries you had set but steady enough to reassure.
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.
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, like something temporary that would disappear if you trusted it too quickly.
But it hadn’t disappeared. And 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, and too undeserved.
But Jeon never commented. 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 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.
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.
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 book placed infront of you.
Then, distant footsteps sound as the door opened.
Jeon stepped inside slowly, his movements heavier than usual. 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, the sound 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, shoulders slumping forward in a way you had never really seen before. Usually, he carried himself with sharp control, every movement precise. Tonight, that control looked worn thin.
That was when you frowned. You pushed yourself upright slowly, the blankets slipping 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, brows drawing together in quiet confusion when he noticed you sitting up.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then, carefully, you shifted closer.
Your movements were slow, 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, 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 were pulling 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 movements, even without understanding them.
And then, you pressed his head softly against your chest.
The contact startled him as his body went still for a split second, 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, 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, a small, quiet offering of comfort. The least you could give him.
Jeon let out a slow breath against your chest, the sound 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 breath, but clear enough to be understood.
Jeon froze from surprise at the sound of your voice, soft, concerned for him.
He tilted his head slightly, just enough to glance upward, eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. “Yeah,” he murmured quietly, his 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. Instead, 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, 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, voice barely audible, soothing.
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 and in the quietest way.
Jeon never made you feel foolish for not speaking. Silence with you had never felt like 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, mouth gentle and unhurried, cheek resting fully against your breast as he drew quiet comfort from the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and the faint taste of you through the fabric. His hands stayed lightly at your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles, anchoring himself without taking more than you offered.
You kept kissing his cheek between soft coos, fingers never stopping their patient strokes through his hair. The faint smile lingered on your lips as you watched him. 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 sucking gradually slowed, growing lazier and softer as exhaustion finally pulled him under. His lips stayed gently latched, warm and wet against your nipple, 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, 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 warmer than it ever had.
The first night after that moment stayed with you. 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, 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, jaw tight, 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, lips seeking until they found the soft peak of your nipple through whatever you wore. Then he would suck slowly, with gentle pulls, 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 doe like and 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, 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 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 that low, rough voice telling you exactly how he was going to take care of you.
Jeon still didn’t touch you unless you guided him. 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, forced contact of unwanted hands, 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. Missed the quiet way he breathed you in.
It made something inside you ache, a subtle, 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 deep, 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 earlier than usual, 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, thighs parted, two fingers buried deep inside your soaked pussy. Your hips rolled desperately as you chased release, mind filled with him, his dark eyes, his large hands, the way he watched you like you were everything.
A soft, broken whimper escaped.
You hadn’t heard when the bedroom door opened and Jeon stepped inside.
You lay on his bed, legs spread, fingers still moving and 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, glossy 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 soft 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 and 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, 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, 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.
“Look at me,” he said, voice low and commanding. “How are you going to take my cock, hm? If you can’t even handle one finger?”
You whimpered, 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, 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, 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, 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, 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, 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, hips lifting impatiently.
Jeon pulled back just enough to look up at you, 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, thighs shaking around his head
only when you were trembling and boneless did he finally pull back, kissing your inner thighs gently, 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, voice low and commanding, dripping with filthy intent.
You obeyed without a word, 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, 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, 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, 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, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. His gaze was dark but careful.
“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 low and serious, 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, thighs slick with your own arousal, but the size still looked impossible.
Jeon’s hands rested lightly on your hips, not pushing, just steadying. “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, body trembling as you struggled to take more.
“Fuck… so tight,” Jeon groaned, 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, arousal dripping down his shaft.
Jeon’s hands tightened on your hips, 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, 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, relentless 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, 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, 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, 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, voice low. 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, 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, 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, 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.
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, 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, thumb pressing lightly against the side of your neck, feeling every frantic beat of your heart.
One hand slid between your bodies, thumb rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit. The pressure built fast and overwhelming.
Your pussy clenched violently around him, 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, voice strained and intense. He buried himself to the hilt, 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, 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, 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, voice hoarse and low, almost trembling with the weight of it. “Not tonight. Not ever again.”
He swallowed hard, thumb stroking your bottom lip as if memorizing the shape of your silence.
“I want you to call me Jungkook.”
The name hung between you like a confession. His eyes were burning with something deeper, 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, 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, body aching in the most delicious, 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 heavy, but your eyes said enough. They stayed locked on his, soft and uncertain, yet warm with the 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 velvet and steel. “Let me keep you.”
Jeon’s fingers kept tracing slow patterns along your spine, his breath warm against your temple. The silence between you felt heavier now, full of everything still unsaid.
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.
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 again.
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.
Jeon pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed, breathing you in like you were oxygen.
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.
«an: im sorry you guys i actually suck at writing and wrapping up oneshots unless its like atleast 25k words or just pure smut. but mafia jk is so hot i need himmm ugh
