Jk’s GF🕷️

Sub koo supremacy

[ggukiebar]

gun play | j.jk

pairing: police officer jungkook x thief reader

word count: 16.9k

genre: dark smut

summary: trying to steal the gold necklace around his neck, you didn’t realize that the man you were stealing from was a high-ranking police officer.

warnings: officer jungkook x thief reader, explicit sexual content, dead dove, cnc/dub-con, gun play, belt choking, usage of handcuffs, primal play, free use/rape, public sex, heavy degradation, manhandling, daddy, dom jk, clit rubbing, spitting, mock sympathy, condescending dirty talk, cum eating, pussy eating, blow job, usage whore & slut, praising, multiple orgasms, manipulation, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, cum eating penetrative sex, creampie.

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Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

"Let's check out the beer house tonight." Hanni said, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "I heard it's packed with rich people on Fridays."

Your brows knitted together. "A beer house?"

A knowing smirk tugged at Hanni's lips. She swept her dark hair into a messy bun before pulling out the chair beside the table, giving the seat a light tap as she gestured for you to sit.

The moment you settled across from her, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned in…There was a familiar gleam in her eyes—the kind that only appeared whenever she had a new scheme brewing. 

"It's one of the most popular beer houses in the city," she explained. "The drinks alone cost more than what we spend on groceries in a week. People who go there don't think twice before throwing money around, which means they're exactly the kind of people we're looking for."

You couldn't help but picture it.

Crowded tables, loud music and half-empty bottles scattered across polished wooden counters. Men laughing far too loudly, their faces flushed from alcohol, expensive watches gleaming beneath the dim lights while thick leather wallets bulged inside the pockets of tailored trousers.

You frowned, unease settling in your chest.

"I'm pretty sure it'll be full of drunk old men, Hanni." you rested your chin against your palm. “Doesn't that sound a little... dangerous?”

Hanni dismissed the concern with a careless wave of her hand.

"They'll be too wasted to notice us," she said with a shrug. "Besides, those are the guys with money. A few missing bills won't even cross their minds."

She leaned even closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to reveal the greatest secret in the world.

"Just give them a sweet smile," she said, the corners of her lips curling into something dangerously playful. "Make them think you've taken an interest in them. Laugh at their terrible jokes, let them believe they're charming..." 

She snapped her fingers between the two of you. "And before they even realize what's happening, you've already walked away with their wallet—or better yet, their credit cards."

A life built on stolen fortunes, calculated manipulation, and carefully crafted deception.

The words no longer sting the way they used to. They've become as familiar as your own name, each one another thread woven into the person you've become. What once filled you with guilt now slips through your fingers as though it was never yours to carry.

Perhaps that's what desperation does.

It doesn't ask you to become someone else. It simply teaches you how to live with the stranger you've become.

Earlier that evening, you and Hanni gathered everything you had stolen throughout the month, laying each piece across the small wooden table between you.

"We only gathered six hundred dollars this month, Y/N... This won't be enough."

A phone, a handful of jewelry, two wallets, and a watch clattered against the worn wood before settling into a messy pile.

"This won't cover this month's rent..." she let out a weary sigh, her manicured nails tapping absentmindedly against the tabletop as she stared at the stolen valuables and the few crumpled bills scattered between them. "And we still have enrollment next month."

Your lips fell into a pout. "But the jewelry I stole is real gold."

You reached for the bracelet, turning it beneath the light. The polished links gleamed against your fingers.

Hanni only sighed again, the exhaustion in her expression deepening.

"It's low-karat gold, Y/N. And there's barely enough of it to be worth anything." she rubbed her temple before glancing at the rest of the pile. "If you manage to steal more next time, maybe we'll actually get something decent for it."

You looked back down at the bracelet, the weight of her words settling heavier than the gold resting in your palm.

You weren't born into wealth…from kindergarten until the day you graduated high school, scholarships carried you through your education. Without them, you doubted you would've made it that far. 

College was different.

Moving out had seemed like the responsible decision at the time. Renting a small apartment near the university was cheaper than spending money on transportation every day between your hometown and campus, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for more than they were already giving. 

So you packed your clothes into two worn-out bags, hugged your mother goodbye, listened to your father's endless reminders to eat properly, and promised them you would be fine.

Your father spent his days baking homemade bread before the sun had fully risen, while your mother worked quietly as a bookkeeper, carefully balancing numbers that never seemed to balance in your own household. Together, they earned just enough to keep food on the table and a roof over your heads.

Needs always came first.

Wants became something you learned to admire from a distance.

Yet, strangely enough, you never felt deprived.

Your home was small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knew everybody, but it was always filled with warmth. 

While your classmates spoke about family vacations abroad, arrived at school carrying luxury handbags, and replaced perfectly good shoes simply because a newer pair had been released, you found comfort in simpler things. 

The smell of freshly baked bread lingering in the kitchen before sunrise. The sound of your father humming while kneading dough. Your mother's gentle voice reminding you not to skip breakfast, even when she knew you were running late.

You loved that life.

More importantly, you loved the people who gave it to you.

Which was why, when college came, you couldn't bear the thought of asking them for more. Every dollar they handed you felt heavier than the last, weighted by sacrifices they never spoke about but could never hide. 

You watched your father work longer hours. You noticed your mother's tired eyes after another day spent staring at ledgers and receipts. They never complained…not once—but love has a way of revealing exhaustion long before words ever do.

So you promised yourself that you would become lighter.

You moved out. You searched for part-time jobs. You told yourself that no matter how difficult life became, you would survive without asking your parents to carry you any farther.

You really believed honest work would be enough.

Finding a cheap apartment hadn't been easy, and if there was one stroke of luck you could still thank the universe for, it was meeting Hanni.

You found her through a post looking for a roommate. She needed someone to split the rent, and you needed somewhere you could actually afford. 

The apartment sat only a few minutes away from the university, saving you the transportation costs you had spent countless nights calculating over and over again.

Hanni turned out to be easier to live with than you expected. She wasn't the type to spend recklessly or chase after things she didn't need. Like you, she stretched every dollar until there was nothing left to stretch. 

For the first few months, you lived off your savings.

Each rent payment made the envelope thinner. Each grocery trip reminded you that numbers disappeared far quicker than they were earned. You searched for work every chance you got, walking into cafés, convenience stores, restaurants—any place with a "Now Hiring" sign taped to the window.

When a fast-food restaurant finally hired you as a server, you thought things were finally looking up.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been so relieved. The excitement, however, didn't last very long.

The paycheck barely reached your hands before it already belonged somewhere else. Half disappeared into rent. Another portion went to groceries, transportation, and the endless expenses college quietly demanded. 

Scholarships covered your tuition, but not everything else. There were laboratory fees, books that professors insisted were mandatory, printed materials, projects, uniforms, and countless little payments that no one ever warned you about.

The money came in. It left even faster.

And no matter how carefully you budgeted every cent, by the end of each month, you always found yourself staring at the same conclusion.

It still wasn't enough.

Hanni, however, never seemed to struggle the way you did.

For reasons she never fully explained, she always had money tucked away somewhere. Not enough to live lavishly, but enough to ease the constant pressure that settled on your shoulders every time rent was due. 

Naturally, you asked where all that money came from. Hanni would only shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as though the answer amused her.

"I have a lot of sidelines," she'd say, never bothering to explain any further. 

It was vague enough to end the conversation, yet suspicious enough to keep your curiosity alive.

Eventually, you stopped asking…but you never stopped noticing. 

One afternoon she'd come home carrying the newest phone model, casually placing it on the kitchen counter while she searched the refrigerator for something to eat. 

The following day, it would already be gone. 

Sometimes it was a watch. Other times it was a gold necklace or a designer wallet. The items constantly changed, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared, but you never questioned her. 

It wasn't until the two of you had grown close enough that she finally trusted you with the truth. 

You remembered expecting disgust to settle in your stomach the moment she confessed. Instead, all you felt was curiosity. 

Hanni told her story so casually, as though she were recalling an ordinary childhood memory instead of admitting to a crime.

She learned how to steal when she was still a little girl. Whenever she picked up a toy at a store or tore open a packet of snacks while trailing beside her mother, no one questioned her. People rarely suspected children, and Hanni learned that long before she understood the weight of what she was doing.

What started as childish curiosity slowly became instinct. Instinct became skill, skill became confidence, and confidence eventually became survival. 

By the time she reached adulthood, stealing was no longer something she occasionally did—it was simply how she made a living. 

She wasn't born into comfort either. Her family had struggled just as much as yours, if not more, and perhaps that was why you found it difficult to judge her. 

You knew what it felt like to lie awake at night wondering how another month would pass. 

You knew what desperation looked like because you had seen it reflected in your parents' exhausted smiles, hidden behind reassuring words they never truly meant. Maybe that was why her confession never horrified you.

Desperation has a peculiar way of changing people.

Because somewhere deep inside, in a place you refused to acknowledge, you understood exactly why she had chosen this path.

"You should blend in. Don't wear those ridiculous jackets or black caps." Hanni chuckled, uncapping the marker in her hand before turning to the small whiteboard hanging beside the refrigerator. 

She drew little stick figures and arrows as if she were giving a university lecture instead of teaching you how to commit crimes. There were circles around the words confidence, timing, and exit, each one underlined twice before she tapped the marker against the board. 

It sounded embarrassingly simple…but it wasn’t.

Your first theft had been nothing more than a granola bar from a convenience store, yet your hands had trembled so violently you almost dropped it before reaching the exit. Your heart pounded against your ribs with enough force to convince you everyone around could hear it.

Every customer who glanced in your direction felt like security in disguise, every beep from the cashier sounded like an alarm, and by the time the automatic doors slid open behind you, your palms were slick with sweat around the tiny snack bar you had risked so much to steal.

Hanni, meanwhile…walked out carrying a bottle of wine, two bags of cheetos, and three packs of mini m&m's tucked somewhere beneath her oversized cardigan. She looked utterly unbothered, stopping only to ask whether you wanted to eat at the nearby park before either of you went home. 

You remembered staring at her with your mouth slightly open, unable to understand how someone could steal so much and still have the composure to worry about dinner.

She only laughed. "It gets easier."

You hated how right she was.

Over the following weeks, your trembling hands gradually learned to stay still. You learned that people rarely questioned someone who acted like they belonged. 

Confidence, Hanni often said, was the greatest disguise anyone could wear, and manipulation was nothing more than convincing people to believe the version of you that benefited them most. 

You practiced smiling at strangers. You practiced maintaining eye contact. You practiced walking away without looking back.

Little by little, it became easier to silence the guilt.

Two months later, you could finally say you were improving. Your movements were steadier, your excuses more believable, your lies smoother than they had ever been before. 

Even so, whenever you compared yourself to Hanni, you still felt like an amateur watching a professional at work. She stole with an ease you doubted you would ever possess.

"Hanni, I'm not good at seducing people... you know that." you let out a groan, dropping your forehead onto the table with a dull thud. 

For all the confidence you had slowly learned to fake while stealing, anything involving men was an entirely different story. 

You have no experience.

Your thefts still involved people, but you always kept your distance…especially from men. You waited for moments of carelessness, slipping valuables from unattended bags, distracted shoppers, or pockets left carelessly exposed before disappearing into the crowd.

It was safer that way. The rewards were smaller, perhaps, but it meant you never had to charm, distract, or make someone lower their guard just to steal from them.

After all, you were still an amateur.

Romance had always seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford. 

While your classmates spent their weekends going on dates or gossiping about their newest crushes, you spent yours calculating expenses and wondering whether instant noodles could count as dinner for the fourth night in a row.

Hanni had pointed it out countless times before.

According to her, manipulating people wasn't always about lying. 

With men, it was about making them believe they had a chance with you. 

The problem was…you had no idea how to do that. 

You didn't know how to flirt, how to bat your eyelashes, or how to laugh at someone's terrible jokes without making it painfully obvious you were pretending. The thought alone made your stomach twist into nervous knots.

Hanni rolled her eyes, dismissing every excuse before you even had the chance to finish making one.

"Oh, stop it." she waved a hand dramatically. "You're very pretty, Y/N. Don't give me that bullshit! Just smile at them…one cute little smile and I guarantee they'll be tripping over themselves to impress you."

You buried your face deeper into your arms."But, Hanni—"

"No buts." she sprang to her feet before you could protest again, practically skipping toward her bedroom. A moment later, she returned with two shopping bags swinging from her hands, the grin on her face growing impossibly wider.

"Besides, I already bought us dresses for tonight." she giggled.

Oh, you were doomed.

"This is so short," you complained, tugging at the hem of the black spaghetti-strap dress for what had to be the tenth time. Every time you managed to pull it down another inch, it simply rode back up the moment you took another step, as though the fabric itself was determined to embarrass you.

Hanni had insisted on doing everything herself. Your hair fell in loose, natural waves over your shoulders, soft enough to hide the nervous rise and fall of your breathing. She had done your makeup too, dusting the slightest touch of glitter across your eyelids that shimmered every time the streetlights caught your face. 

Even before you reached your destination, your feet were already protesting against the thin, strappy heels wrapped around your ankles, each step reminding you that beauty demanded sacrifices you had never volunteered to make.

Hanni glanced at you before letting out an amused laugh. "I can't see your panties from here, so you're fine."

You shot her an unamused look, earning another laugh from her.

Unlike you, Hanni looked completely at ease. 

Her dark green off-the-shoulder dress hugged her figure effortlessly, paired with matching heels that clicked confidently against the pavement. Her hair was swept into a messy updo that somehow looked intentionally elegant rather than rushed, and with the confidence she carried herself, no one would ever guess that the two of you struggled to pay rent every month.

Together, you looked exactly like the kind of girls who had never worried about money a day in their lives.

Which was almost funny.

Because hidden beneath expensive-looking dresses and carefully applied makeup were two women desperately hoping to walk away with someone else's wallet, watch, jewelry—or anything valuable enough to buy another month of survival.

"Okay, let's order a drink first and look around," Hanni said, her voice barely audible beneath the chatter spilling out from inside the beer house as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.

You followed closely behind, your heartbeat already beginning to pick up.

You had spent the entire walk convincing yourself that the place would be filled with loud, drunken old men slumped over tables, too intoxicated to notice a missing wallet or an expensive watch. Instead, your expectations dissolved the moment your eyes adjusted to the dim amber lights.

The place was crowded…not just with old men, but with all kinds of people. Groups of friends occupied long wooden tables, raising glasses every time the football match playing on the massive television reached an exciting moment. Couples sat tucked away in quieter corners, talking over bottles of beer, while businessmen who looked as though they had come straight from the office loosened their ties and laughed with colleagues over overflowing pitchers.

Your gaze drifted toward the long wooden bar stretching across one side of the room, shelves behind it neatly lined with bottles you had only ever seen locked behind glass displays. The smell of grilled meat and fried food lingered in the air, mixing with the bitter scent of beer, while a small band adjusted their instruments on the stage, preparing for the night ahead.

You quietly took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter building inside your chest. 

You had been stealing for two months now, yet every new place made you feel like it was your first all over again. The fear of getting caught never truly disappeared—it only learned how to hide beneath your smile.

Hanni walked through the crowd without a hint of hesitation, weaving between tables before claiming two empty seats near the stage. When the server approached, she greeted him with an easy smile, the kind that belonged to someone who had come for nothing more than a quiet drink after a long week.

"Two draft beers, please."

The server nodded before disappearing toward the counter.

Hanni waited until he was out of earshot before her eyes swept across the room once more, lingering only for a second before the corner of her lips slowly lifted.

"I found your table." Hanni raised a brow, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing smile.

You pouted, instinctively following her gaze as your eyes wandered across the crowded beer house. Round wooden tables filled nearly every corner, occupied by groups of men laughing over clinking bottles, scattered glasses, and the remnants of another round.

Of course she'd choose men. You had long grown used to Hanni's reasoning.

Men were easier to distract…and according to her, far easier to manipulate than women.

"Which one?" you asked, squinting as you searched through the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Hanni let out a quiet laugh before leaning closer, her perfume briefly overpowering the scent of beer lingering in the air. "The third table near the bar," she whispered, careful not to draw attention. "They look a little older than us. Not too old, though." 

She grinned mischievously. "I'd say they're giving daddy vibes."

You frowned at her. “Ugh, Hanni!”

Slowly, your gaze followed the direction she had subtly pointed, finally landing on the group she had been watching.

There were seven of them gathered around one of the larger tables, completely absorbed in their own conversation. They couldn't have been much older than Hanni had guessed, perhaps somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. 

Dressed in simple shirts, rugged jeans, and jackets carelessly draped over the backs of their chairs, they looked more like friends unwinding after a long week than the wealthy businessmen you had imagined on your walk there.

At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them. Yet the longer you watched, the easier it became to notice the details.

A watch that caught the light every time one of them lifted his beer. A phone left face-up beside an overflowing ashtray without a second thought. Car keys, wallets, and cigarette packs lay scattered across the wooden table between bottles of beer and half-finished baskets of bar snacks, abandoned in the comfort of good company.

They laughed loudly, occasionally teasing one another, while wisps of cigarette smoke curled lazily into the air above them. They were so engrossed in their own little world that they never once looked your way.

"What do you think?" Hanni asked, her eyes never leaving the group near the bar."I say you target that table while I take the one near the door."

Your gaze lingered on the men for another moment before dropping to the table between you. Almost as if on cue, the server returned with your drinks, carefully placing two glasses of draft beer in front of you. Tiny bubbles rushed to the surface beneath a thick layer of foam, the chilled glass immediately collecting beads of condensation.

Hanni thanked him with a smile before wrapping her fingers around her glass. She looked... excited. There was always a certain spark in her eyes before a job, one you had grown familiar with over the past two months. 

While your stomach twisted itself into knots, hers seemed to settle. The closer she came to danger, the calmer she became.

Your fingers traced the condensation gathering around your own glass as you quietly stared into the golden beer. The thought of walking up to a table full of strangers, pretending to be interested in one of them, was enough to make your stomach tighten. 

You had spent the last two months learning how to steal, how to lie without stumbling over your words, how to smile convincingly enough for people to lower their guard. 

But flirting? That was something entirely different.

Still...

You glanced down at the dress hugging your figure before absentmindedly smoothing the fabric over your thighs. Hanni had spent her own money buying it for you. She had curled your hair, done your makeup, and patiently convinced you that you looked like you belonged in a place like this. She had done everything she could to make tonight successful.

The least you could do was try.

The numbers flashed through your mind before you could stop them, reminding you how little time you had left before another payment was due. 

You drew in a slow breath before finally looking back at Hanni, offering her a small smile that carried far more determination than confidence.

"Alright," you said with determination. "I promise I'll do my best."

Her face immediately brightened. "That's my girl!"

She lifted her glass toward yours with a grin so wide it was almost contagious.

"Cheers to that, baby."

The soft clink echoed between you, disappearing almost instantly beneath the laughter, music, and the constant hum of conversations filling the beer house.

Easy…smile, flirt and steal.

After a couple of minutes spent nursing your drinks and quietly familiarizing yourselves with the beer house, Hanni caught your eye from across the table. She gave the slightest nod—a silent signal the two of you had long grown accustomed to. 

It was time.

You rose from your seat, smoothing the wrinkles from your dress before letting your fingers comb through your hair, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. Hanni disappeared into the crowd without another word, already making her way toward her own target, while you headed in the opposite direction, forcing yourself to wear the kind of smile she had spent weeks teaching you. Soft enough to seem approachable…confident enough to belong.

The barstool closest to their table sat empty.

You slipped onto it, offering the bartender a polite smile as he passed by before pretending to study the rows of bottles displayed behind the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention never truly left the table behind you.

Your heartbeat steadied, not because you were any less nervous…but because your mind had finally begun doing what Hanni had trained it to do.

Observe.

A few wallets lay carelessly on the wooden table, abandoned without a second thought by men too engrossed in conversation to notice their surroundings. Your fingers twitched ever so slightly.

Tonight, maybe two wallets would be enough. Any more than that would only invite unnecessary attention.

Your gaze lingered for another second before drifting higher, carefully studying each of the men one by one. 

If you were going to approach someone tonight, it couldn't be just anyone. You needed the one who looked the wealthiest, the one whose watch alone could cover next month's rent, whose jewelry might be worth more than everything you and Hanni had managed to steal over the past few months combined.

You couldn't flirt with all of them. So if you were going to take the risk, you might as well choose the wealthiest one.

Your eyes drifted from one man to another, careful not to linger for too long. 

One wore a pair of silver earrings that matched the chain resting against his chest. Another—the one with dimples that appeared every time he laughed—had an elegant silver watch wrapped around his wrist, the polished metal glimmering beneath the warm lights whenever he reached for his beer. The man beside him looked much simpler, dressed in an ordinary black shirt without a single piece of jewelry to catch your attention, and you dismissed him almost immediately.

You kept looking.

Until your gaze landed on a tattooed hand lazily wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.

Silver rings adorned nearly every finger, each one different from the next, and just above them rested a watch that looked far too expensive to belong in your world. Your eyes followed the slow movement of his hand as he lifted the bottle to his lips, only to notice the gold chain disappearing beneath the collar of his dark shirt. 

His ear was adorned with several silver earrings, each one catching the amber light whenever he turned toward one of his friends. When he tilted his head back for another sip, the small silver ring through his lower lip glinted just as brightly.

Then your gaze wandered lower…a pair of Porsche keys hung carelessly from the belt loop of his black jeans, swinging gently whenever he shifted in his seat as though they were nothing more than an ordinary keychain.

You quietly looked away before he could catch you staring, your heartbeat quickening as your fingers curled around the wooden counter.

Target locked.

You immediately order a shot of tequila, not to get drunk, but to act drunk.

Hanni had told you that people lowered their guard around someone who seemed tipsy. A little laugh that lingered too long, a gaze that wandered a little too often, movements just clumsy enough to look believable. It made approaching strangers easier.

You thanked the bartender with a polite smile before resting your elbow against the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention drifted back to the table.

His back was mostly facing you, making it difficult to study him without being obvious. Every now and then he'd turn toward one of his friends, giving you a brief glimpse of his side profile before looking away again, and somehow those fleeting seconds were enough for you to notice far more than you intended.

His jaw was clean and sharply defined, catching the amber glow whenever he tipped his head back to drink. A straight nose balanced his features effortlessly, while soft strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, shifting every time he ran a hand through them. Every so often, you caught sight of his dark round eyes, softened by the alcohol he'd been drinking, their usual alertness replaced by a lazy heaviness that made them unexpectedly... pretty.

Your brows knitted together. 

You were supposed to be memorizing his belongings Y/N! Not his face!

The bartender slid your tequila across the counter. You murmured a quiet thank you before lifting the glass to your lips, taking only a small sip. The burn barely had time to settle in your throat before your eyes sneakily wandered back toward the table.

"Huh?"  

His seat was empty!

Your brows furrowed as your eyes searched the group, confusion replacing the confidence you had spent the last several minutes trying so hard to build.

"Looking for me?” a deep chuckle sounded from behind you.

Your eyes widened, you turned so quickly you nearly knocked your drink over.

Even with you sitting down, he towered over you with ease, one side of his body leaning casually against the polished wooden counter. Up close, the details you had only managed to steal glances of moments ago became impossible to ignore—the silver rings decorating his fingers, the tattoos stretching over his right arm, the small hoop piercing his lower lip, and those heavy-lidded eyes now looking directly into yours.

The corner of his mouth curled upward…amused.

As though he'd caught you doing something you weren't supposed to.

"H-Hi!" you greeted, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended as you struggled to hide how badly he had startled you.

What the fuck.

For a split second, every lesson Hanni had drilled into your head disappeared. Your carefully rehearsed smile, your excuses, the confident persona you had spent two months trying to build—they all vanished the moment he caught you off guard.

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

"May I help you?"

Your own brows drew together before you could stop them, your smile faltering for the briefest moment.

"Hm?"

"You kept looking at me." he chuckled, low and amused.

There wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as though he'd caught you staring several times already and had simply decided to humor you instead of calling you out for it. 

Heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly, your mind scrambling for something—anything…that would keep your act from falling apart before it had even begun.

Trying to save yourself, you immediately gave him a flirty smile.

"Oh..." a soft giggle escaped your lips, "Was I that obvious?"

You tilted your head ever so slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at him through your lashes exactly the way Hanni had told you to. 

When he took a step closer, your breath hitched. 

His thick black boots brushed against the legs of your stool, and with the way he positioned himself, his broad frame nearly shielded you from the rest of the room. It wasn't intentional…or maybe it was—but suddenly the chatter of the beer house seemed much farther away than it had a second ago.

"Uh-huh," he murmured, the single sound barely above a whisper.

The faint scent of mint lingered beneath the beer on his breath, close enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment. Up close, the gold chain resting against his collarbone shimmered softly, layered alongside several silver necklaces that framed the base of his neck. 

Before your courage had the chance to abandon you…you slowly lifted a hand and rested it around the back of his neck, your fingertips grazing the cool metal chains lying against his skin.

"You're cute," you whispered, biting lightly on your lower lip as your fingers idly toyed with one of the necklaces. Every movement had been rehearsed in your head a dozen times before tonight, yet none of them felt natural now that they were happening. You only hoped he couldn't tell.

Fuck, he’s so handsome up close!

His head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across his face before his gaze slowly drifted downward. It lingered far longer than you were prepared for, tracing the exposed skin above your dress before continuing lower. Instinctively, you fought the urge to tug at the hem that had ridden higher on your thighs.

Don't. Fake it until you make it.

"I am?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk. His tongue swept across the silver ring piercing his lower lip before he leaned even closer, his lips hovering just beneath your ear.

"Yeah," you breathed, forcing confidence into your voice despite the frantic beating of your heart. "Want you."

The words felt foreign leaving your mouth. Still, they had the desired effect.

As his attention remained fixed on the spot where your pulse fluttered, your fingers subtly found the clasp hidden beneath the chains around his neck. 

One careful movement...that was all it would take.

You had barely begun to unhook it when his hand closed firmly around your wrist.

Your heart stopped. For one horrifying second, you were certain he'd caught you.

"Let's go to my car."

What?

"H-Huh? I..."

He lifted his head just enough for your eyes to meet his. The lazy amusement from earlier had disappeared, replaced by something darker. 

"I can't fuck you here."

Your eyes widen, fucking was your limit!

Your gaze drifted to the thick gold necklace resting against his chest... the leather wallet tucked carelessly into his pocket... and the sleek black car waiting only a few steps away.

Fuck it.

You followed him in silence, the cool night breeze brushing against your exposed skin and reminding you just how short your dress was. 

Your gaze remained fixed on his broad back as he unlocked the car, your throat tightening around a nervous swallow.

Earlier, when you had walked past Hanni, you had nearly burst into tears at the sight of her giving you an approving nod, silently cheering you on while she remained at her table, busy charming the men around her.

You couldn't back out now. Not after she'd placed this much faith in you.

The parking lot was quiet, a little farther from the beer house…the music fading into the distance. When he turned around, you gathered every ounce of courage you had left and greeted him with the sweetest smile you could muster.

Your mind raced, thoughts crashing into one another until only three remained.

First, find a way to slip the gold chain from around his neck. The wallet would come next, once he finally let his guard down.

Second, you were not going to fuck him. 

It didn't matter how broad his shoulders were, how unfairly handsome he looked, or how pretty his eyes became whenever he smiled.

Your hormones could cry about it later.

Third, whatever happened tonight... for the love of God, do not get caught.

He looked down at you, one brow lifting ever so slightly when he noticed the faint tremble in your legs.

"Get in."

He pulled the backseat door open for you, and you offered him a small, flirty smile before carefully slipping inside. 

The leather seat gave beneath your weight with a quiet creak, and for the briefest moment, you convinced yourself you'd have a second to steady your breathing, to gather the scattered pieces of your thoughts before facing him again.

The hope didn't last.

The car shifted as he climbed in after you, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that seemed to swallow the last bit of space inside the cabin. 

Your pulse faltered, the hem of your dress had ridden higher than you'd intended, exposing far more of your thighs than you were comfortable with, the fabric inching dangerously close to revealing the lace of your panties. Every instinct urged you to smooth it back into place, but you stopped yourself.

Focus, Y/N! You need to seduce him!

You had barely opened your mouth, ready to deliver one of the corniest pickup lines Hanni had relentlessly drilled into your head, when his hand suddenly pulled your hair. 

Your lips parted in surprise as he tugged you toward him, leaving no room for hesitation before his lips crashed against yours.

A breathless whimper escaped you, your eyes widening for only a second before they fluttered shut. His fingers tightened around the hair above your nape, angling your head exactly how he wanted it, his kisses deep, hungry, and impatient.

The bitter trace of beer lingered on his tongue, flooding your senses until your thoughts blurred at the edges. Your body yielded without resistance, melting effortlessly against his as he drew you closer, the strength behind the movement making you feel almost weightless in his hold.

For a fleeting moment, you forgot your mission.

His tongue slipped against yours with practiced ease, stealing every coherent thought from your mind before instinct finally caught up. 

You slowly lifted your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the softness of his hair as though simply indulging in the kiss. Then, careful not to rush…they drifted lower, brushing over the warm skin of his nape before gliding toward the necklace resting against his neck.

“Open your mouth wider,” he rasped, pulling away just enough to speak. A string of saliva stretched between your mouths as his other hand slid around your neck…his long, tattooed fingers wrapping firmly around your throat in a possessive grip.

Your eyes widened…one of your hands remained tangled behind his nape, your fingers still toying with the chain around his neck, desperately searching for the tiny clasp hidden beneath his hair. 

Too distracted to obey his request… he suddenly tugged your hair harder.

A startled gasp escaped your lips, and he seized the opportunity—his tongue slipping hot and messy into your parted mouth, kissing you with a hunger that left you no chance to catch your breath.

You barely kissed him back, surrendering to the pace he set as your mind gradually emptied. Somehow, through the dizziness clouding your head, your fingertips continued their quiet search along the cool metal resting against his skin, praying to find the clasp before he noticed.

“Mmph!”

A soft whimper caught in your throat when he bit down harshly on your lower lip. The hand around your neck tightened, his fingers pressing deeper into your throat until your breath hitched, the pressure almost choking you.

“What are you doing?” he groaned, pulling you away from his lips before effortlessly lifting your entire body onto his lap. 

Large hands settled on your hips, guiding your legs to either side of him until you were straddling him completely, your dress riding embarrassingly higher over your thighs in the process.

“Hmm?” you murmured, blinking up at him through hazy eyes, your lips swollen and glistening from his relentless kisses.

He tilted his head, studying you in silence. 

The intensity of his gaze made something tighten inside your chest. Your confidence, already hanging by a thread, began to unravel beneath his eyes alone, and without thinking, your hands abandoned the necklace altogether, drifting back into his hair as though that had been your intention from the very beginning.

“Kiss me back,” he rasped.

A quiet breath of relief nearly escaped your lips. He hadn't noticed.

You offered him the sweetest smile you could manage before leaning in again, your heart pounding so violently you were certain he could feel it through your chest. You kissed him as carefully as you could, trying to mimic the way he'd kissed you only moments ago, parting his lips with hesitant eagerness, hoping it looked natural enough to fool him.

To your surprise, he let you…he didn't take control or deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply let you explore him at your own pace.

Heat crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks, embarrassment blooming beneath your skin as the realization slowly dawned on you. 

He wasn't following your lead. 

“Baby...” he chuckled between kisses, his tattooed hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, holding your face steady with a firm grip. “You're not kissing me properly.”

Embarrassment rushed through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy, your inexperience laid bare after only a few clumsy kisses. 

Determination quickly swallowed the humiliation. 

Before you could think twice, you leaned in again, kissing him with far more urgency than before, desperate to prove that you knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment he finally kissed you back, a breathless whimper nearly escaped you. 

He kissed you effortlessly, guiding the rhythm while you struggled to keep up, your breaths already turning shallow enough that you were certain you looked seconds away from hyperventilating.

Determined not to lose yourself completely, you bit down on his lower lip, earning a low, gravelly groan that vibrated against your mouth. The sound alone made your stomach flutter. Taking advantage of the distraction, your trembling hands drifted back to the chain around his neck, fingertips carefully searching beneath his hair for the tiny clasp.

Your eyes fluttered shut when he sucked on your tongue, warmth rushing across your ears and down your neck so quickly it almost burned. It was your first time being kissed like this—his kisses were shamelessly lewd, all heat and desperation. Saliva glistened between your mouths whenever he pulled away, only to capture your lower lip again with another lingering suck that stole the air from your lungs. 

Before long, the only sounds filling the car were the quiet, wet presses of your mouths and the uneven rhythm of your breathing.

You couldn't tell whether he was simply that good at kissing or if your lack of experience made every touch feel overwhelming. Either way, the way his hand remained wrapped around your jaw, firmly angling your head exactly where he wanted it, sent a shiver running down your spine.

A soft, helpless moan escaped your lips when you felt him spit into your mouth without breaking the kiss. The sensation sent heat unfurling through every inch of your body, your knees threatening to weaken even from where you sat on his lap. 

Your thoughts dissolved into a haze, and before you realized it, the fingers that had been so carefully searching for the clasp of his necklace had gone slack, your mission slipping further out of reach with every slow, lingering pull of his mouth.

“Grind on me.” he groaned.

Your eyes widened, before you could even process his words, both of his hands settled around the curve of your hips, guiding your body into a slow, deliberate roll against his lap.

“W-Wait—” 

His mouth found your neck, scattering soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled across your body as his lips traveled lower, his grip never once leaving your hips as he slowly rocked them back and forth, drawing helpless whimpers from your lips.

Heat rushed to your cheeks the moment you felt the firm outline of his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.

“Roll your hips, baby.” he grunted.

His teeth grazed your neck before his tongue soothed the sting, the cool metal of his lip piercing dragging lightly over your throat.

Your eyes squeezed shut…losing yourself completely as you followed the guidance of his hands, the subtle throbs of his cock impossible to ignore through the layers separating your bodies.

“That’s it,” he praised, looking down at your rolling hips.

“Oh, gosh…” you moaned.

You couldn't comprehend how dirty and lewd this was, grinding against a stranger's cock while convincing yourself that you wouldn't fuck him.

His clothed mushroom tip grazed the apex between your thighs as he guided your hips through another slow rub, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. A wave of warmth unfurled low in your stomach, spreading until it settled heavily between your legs.

Fuck, you were getting so wet.

Your body burned with a growing tension you didn't know how to quiet. The fabric of your panties clung uncomfortably against your cunt. When his hands finally cupped your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress, a shaky breath caught in your throat. 

Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shoulders for balance as he continued to maneuver your body with effortless ease.

“Oh my-”

His lips trailed lower…you sucked in a sharp breath when they reached the swell of your cleavage, your heart stumbling the moment you caught sight of his tongue slipping between the soft curve of your breasts, tasting the narrow valley created by the tight fabric hugging your chest.

“Hmm... so soft,” he murmured.

Before you could even process the praise, he leaned back just enough to gather saliva in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing before he leaned down and let a warm bead of spit fall between your breasts. It slowly trailed down the center of your cleavage, disappearing beneath the neckline of your dress.

A startled gasp escaped you, the shamelessness of it sent another rush of heat coursing through your body.

“Spread my spit, baby.” his voice dropped into a teasing murmur as he brushed a lingering kiss against your cheek. “I want you messy.”

He never stopped guiding your hips, slow, patient rubs against his lap while he watched you expectantly.

You swallowed thickly. It felt as though your body had slipped into a trance, your thoughts muffled beneath the haze he'd wrapped around you. 

Almost absentmindedly, your fingers found the warmth between your breasts, gathering the wetness before slowly spreading his spit across the soft skin of your cleavage, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes following every hesitant movement.

Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the gold chain resting against his collarbone.

The necklace!

For a split second, you wanted to slap yourself. 

You'd become so hopelessly lost in him that you'd nearly forgotten why you were here in the first place.

Trying to keep up the act, you smiled and gathered the warm trace of his spit onto your fingertips before slowly bringing them to your lips. A flicker of nervousness stirred in your chest as you parted your lips, letting your tongue glide languidly over your damp fingers, never once breaking eye contact with him.

His lips parted. “You like it?”

You nodded. “Hmm…”

“Want more?” he cooed, his voice rough with satisfaction. 

Your cheeks heated, a little self-conscious under the way he stared at you before leaning in to kiss you again. You whimpered when he spat into your mouth while kissing you, trying to focus as your hands finally found the chain around his neck. Your fingers worked quickly beneath the curtain of his hair, your heart pounding so violently you feared he would hear it.

Then—the clasp gave. 

Relief crashed over you.

You carefully eased the necklace free, letting the chain slip from your fingers onto the leather seat beside you with a faint clink before your hands returned to brace against his chest. 

Your pulse hammered in your throat, so distracted by stealing the jewelry that you didn't feel his fingers hooking beneath the thin straps of your black dress until they were already sliding down. Cool air kissed your skin a second before you realized the straps had fallen from your shoulders, the dress bunched at your waist, your bra laid bare beneath his dark, hungry stare.

"Ohh—" a moan ripped from your lips when his hands grabbed your tits through the bra, his palms kneading the soft flesh as his fingers pinched and rolled your stiff nipples through the thin lace. 

"So pretty," he praised, his eyes never leaving the swell of your breasts spilling over the cups.

His hand slid behind your back, his fingers flicking the clasp open. Your bra sprang loose, your tits bouncing free, your nipples peaked and aching.

“Keep grinding, baby.” he rasped.

Your hips moved before your brain could catch up, rolling against his lap. His hard cock formed a thick ridge beneath his pants, pressing right against your soaked panties. 

The delicious friction made your cunt leak, slick pooling in the gusset as each slow roll of your hips rubbed your clit across his length until your panties clung to your wet, chubby slit.

“Mhm,” you whined as his mouth locked onto one nipple, his tongue lapping at the bud before sucking hard, his teeth scraping lightly while his other hand squeezed your breast, his fingers twisting the neglected nipple until it throbbed.

Wet sounds filled the car—the slurp of his mouth around your nipple and the squelch of your dripping cunt rubbing against his cock through the fabric. 

You forced yourself to look down, your heavy-lidded eyes searching for anything that might help you finish what you had come here to do. Then your thigh brushed against the square outline beneath the fabric of his pants.

His wallet.

You drew in a shaky breath before rolling your hips against him with a little more desperation. A low groan vibrated against your nipple the moment he felt the change in your rhythm, the sound sending another wave of heat through your body. 

A helpless whine slipped from your lips as your own hands wandered over him, trying to appear just as consumed by the moment. Your palms skimmed over his shoulders, down the firm planes of his chest, and lower still, making you swallow hard at the realization of just how toned he felt beneath your touch.

“Ouch,” you whimpered when his teeth suddenly bit into your nipple.

He only chuckled against your skin.

The sting disappeared beneath a lingering kiss before he lifted his head just enough to murmur.

“Slow down, baby. You're gonna make me cum.” 

The teasing words had barely left his lips before his attention shifted back to your breast, his mouth closing around the swollen nipple with harsh, eager suction that made your thighs instinctively tense around him.

Even through the layers of his pants, you could feel how big and hard he was beneath you, the firm outline of his thick cock pressing insistently against your soaked panties with every shallow movement. 

Fuck, focus Y/N.

His wallet had shifted dangerously close to the edge of his pocket, almost slipping free from the constant movement of your bodies.

You rolled your hips against him again…another soft moan escaping your lips as the friction sent a dizzying pulse of pleasure through you. 

“Oh my…” 

For a fleeting second, you almost forgot the wallet, your body threatening to lose the battle your mind was still desperately trying to win.

“Baby…” he groaned harshly.

His hands tightened around your waist, pinning your hips firmly in place before you could move against him again.

Confused, you instinctively tried to move again, but his hand beat you to it. It slipped between your thighs before firmly cupping your pussy over your soaked panties, his palm pressing against your wet cunt as his fingers slowly dragged against the damp fabric. A soft, unmistakable squelch filled the quiet cabin, and your breath caught in your throat.

“I said stay still, fuck.” he whispered, mercilessly squeezing your pussy through the thin fabric until another helpless moan spilled from your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, your mouth falling open as his slow, deliberate touch only made you wetter, the soaked fabric sticking embarrassingly to your folds with every movement of his hand.

A startled gasp escaped you when his free hand suddenly rose to your face, firmly squeezing your cheeks together. 

“Keep your eyes open. Look at what I'm doing to you,” he commanded, his thumb finding your clit through the damp fabric and rubbing slow, lazy circles that sent a violent shiver through your body.

“Oh... gosh,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath. 

Your thoughts were beginning to dissolve all over again until something caught your eye.

His wallet had finally slipped free from his pocket, landing quietly on the leather seat beside him. Relief surged through you, and you almost smiled in triumph, the sight nearly distracting you from your mission's success.

Before you could dwell on it, he hooked a finger beneath the damp gusset of your panties, flipping the fabric aside just enough to expose your slick pussy. His fingertips returned, meeting your bare cunt directly, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact tore another breathless gasp from your lips.

Your eyes rolled back as his long fingers slowly rubbed against your sensitive cunt. The cool metal of his rings grazed your slit with every stroke, sending a sharp shiver through your body and drawing another helpless whimper from your throat.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Enjoying yourself?"

You could only nod, slow and breathless, your chest rising and falling beneath uneven breaths. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your face burning from every filthy thing you had let him do to you.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a whisper. "You like my fingers, baby?"

Before you could answer, his middle finger slowly pressed into your tight, untouched hole.

A broken whimper escaped you, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your body instinctively tensed around the unfamiliar stretch. For a fleeting second, your hand nearly came up to push him away, your inexperience heightening every overwhelming sensation. But he caught your face first, his fingers tightening around your cheeks, forcing your gaze back to him.

He inhaled softly before hollowing his cheeks, gathering saliva in his mouth, then leaned closer and messily spat between your parted lips.

"Swallow."

You obeyed without hesitation, your throat bobbing as you swallowed, your walls fluttering tightly around his finger at the command.

His hand slipped lower, lifting the hem of your skirt before his gaze settled between your thighs. He watched with quiet fascination as his finger slowly disappeared inside your virgin hole before drawing back out again, only to repeat the motion at an unhurried pace.

"You're so tight, baby." he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving your pussy. "When was the last time you fucked?"

The question alone nearly brought tears to your eyes, embarrassment burning through you just as intensely as the confusing mixture of pain and pleasure his touch continued to pull from your body.

“L-Long time ago.” 

As if Y/N! 

He licked his lower lip, a quiet whimper slipping past your lips as the pad of his middle finger reached deeper inside your warm tight hole. His movements remained slow until his fingertip brushed against your spongy spot, the sharp ache of the stretch gradually melting into a pleasure so warm it made your body soften around him.

"Aww, is that why you're so tight, baby?” he whispered.

God, this was so wrong.

“Maybe you need me to stretch your hole again, hmm?" he cooed, lowering his head until his lips wrapped around your swollen nipple, sucking gently while his finger continued to work deeper into your tight cunt.

"Y-Yes," you mumbled incoherently, your rational thoughts dissolving as your hips instinctively rolled forward, chasing the slow rhythm of his finger.

The moment he felt you move, his free hand settled firmly around your waist, stilling you with ease. He released your nipple with a soft pop before a quiet chuckle escaped him, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours with unmistakable amusement.

"Patience, baby. I'm still having fun."

A pout tugged at your lips, ready to answer back, but the words never came. His left hand slipped between your thighs instead, slowly parting your folds before drawing back the hood revealing your glistening clit, exposing it completely beneath his dark gaze.

"Wanna suck this clit so bad," he whispered, his gaze fixed between your thighs as your clit pulsed beneath the weight of his stare.

He leaned down and spat over it, a slow trail of saliva slipping down your slit until it met the middle finger buried inside your hole. A helpless whimper caught in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as he spread the saliva over your exposed clit with slow, pressured strokes, every messy rub sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

Both of his hands were devoted to you now. His tattooed fingers continued to work your tight hole with an unhurried rhythm while his other hand circled your swollen clit, spreading your growing wetness together with his saliva. His eyes never left your cunt, watching every tiny twitch, every shiver that rippled through you as though he wanted to memorize your pulsating pussy.

"You wanna cum?" he asked, lifting a brow as he watched your chest rise and fall with uneven breaths. His middle finger emerged coated in a thick ring of your white milky juices before disappearing back inside you, while your legs trembled uncontrollably beneath every slow sweep of his thumb across your swollen clit.

You nodded desperately, “Y-Yes…”

He pursed his lips, studying you for a long moment.

"You sure?"

"P-Please," you pleaded, your hips instinctively rolling in search of more.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" a small smile tugged at his lips, though there wasn't a trace of humor behind it.

Confusion barely had the chance to settle before he slowly inserted a second finger into your cunt.

A loud moan tore from your throat as the sudden stretch stole the air from your lungs. His fingers paused only briefly, allowing your body to adjust before they began to move together, scissoring you open with slow, rhythmic strokes while his other hand never stopped rubbing your clit.

The lingering ache of the stretch gradually melted beneath the mounting pleasure, your body surrendering to it completely. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around his hand, your back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Your eyes rolled back, your walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers while wave after wave of pleasure left your entire body trembling.

“Well done, baby.” he praised.

Even after the intensity began to ebb, your cunt continued to pulse around him, your legs still shaking from the aftershocks.

Only when your breathing had become nothing more than uneven gasps did he slowly withdraw his fingers from your hole, drawing another helpless whimper from your lips as the sudden emptiness met your lingering sensitivity.

Then he leaned in, his teeth grazed the shell of your ear in a soft bite before his lips brushed against it.

"I’m so proud." he whispered.

As your gaze drifted downward, it caught on the slight opening of his wallet, the sight striking you like a quiet reminder of why you had approached him in the first place.

Your fucking mission.

You bit down hard on your lower lip, gathering what little composure remained before forcing the words past your throat.

"C-Can I drink some water? I'm kinda thirsty," you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs were still trembling from your release, your heart pounding so loudly against your chest that you were certain he could hear it.

You expected him to refuse…Instead, he simply nodded.

"Hmm sure, baby. Let me get it for you."

His tongue swept across his lower lip before he gently tucked a few loose strands of hair away from your flushed cheeks, his touch unexpectedly tender as his eyes lingered on yours.

You swallowed hard, relief flooding through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy.

"I'll wait for you here," you said with a small smile, leaning forward just enough to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he stood.

His eyes narrowed, smiling a little, but there was something in them that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

The moment he climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him before disappearing into the noisy beer house in search of a bottle of water, you sprang into action. 

You quickly fixed your dress before reaching for the thick gold necklace that had slipped onto the leather seat during everything that had happened between the two of you. Your fingers wrapped around it before darting toward his wallet, still resting exactly where you had dropped it after deliberately sitting on it when you asked for water. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears as your gaze frantically swept across the interior of the car, searching for anything else of value. It didn't take long before your eyes landed on a small, heavy bag tucked beneath the passenger seat. 

Without wasting another second—or even bothering to look more....you snatched it as well, clutching the necklace, the wallet, and the bag tightly against your chest before quietly pushing the car door open.

With shaky, trembling hands, you slipped out of the vehicle and hurried toward the nearest sprawling tree beside the parking lot, its thick trunk shielding you from anyone who might glance in your direction. Only then did you allow yourself to stop, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as you hugged your stolen belongings close, desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart. 

The necklace alone felt expensive in your hands, its weight unmistakable, and you couldn't help but admire the rich gleam of the gold beneath the parking lot lights. 

This has to be high-karat. 

Your eyes practically sparkled at the thought, relief and triumph swelling inside your chest as you silently congratulated yourself. You had actually managed to steal from him without getting fucked... and without getting caught.

Almost.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you slipped the thick gold necklace into your pocket, the reassuring weight of it pressing against your thigh. 

Your attention soon drifted to the heavy bag you had grabbed from beneath the seat, curiosity getting the better of you. You crouched beneath the tree and slowly pulled the zipper open, your brows knitting together at the sight of something black and metallic nestled inside. 

Frowning, you reached to get a better look, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

It was a gun. 

What the fuck?

Your hands instantly began to shake. The bag slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that echoed far louder than it should have in the quiet of the parking lot. 

You stared at it in horror before your gaze darted to the wallet still clutched tightly against your chest, your pulse pounding so violently it made your fingers numb.

"Oh God... this is a bad idea," you whispered to yourself, panic clawing its way up your throat.

For one reckless moment, you considered running back, returning the necklace, the wallet, the bag….everything—and pretending none of this had ever happened. 

Maybe you could leave them inside his car before he noticed. Maybe you could still walk away.

But it was already too late.

If there was one thing Hanni had drilled into your head from the very beginning, it was this: once you stole something, you never gave it back. Going back wasn't bravery—it was stupidity. 

And stupidity was exactly how thieves got caught.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened his wallet, your brows immediately knitting together when an identification card tucked behind a gleaming gold badge came into view. 

Your stomach dropped. This wasn't a wallet at all—it was a badge holder. 

A cold chill crept down your spine as your fingers shakily flipped the leather, your eyes scanning every detail printed across the identification. The words blurred together at first, your racing heart making it impossible to focus, until your gaze landed on the line that mattered most.

CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT

Rank: Captain  | Name: Jeon Jungkook

For a long, terrifying second, your mind went completely blank, your pulse pounding so violently it drowned out every sound around you. 

"F-Fuck! Oh God—fuck!"

The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper as your hands shook so violently you could barely keep hold of the badge holder. 

Your breathing grew shallow, your mind racing through every possible escape, each one ending worse than the last. 

You stared at the polished badge in horror, your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest, when the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly reached your ears.

Panic surged through your body, and you instinctively turned, ready to run for your life, but a firm hand wrapped around your wrist before you could take a single step.

"Where are you going?" he asked with a quiet chuckle from behind you, amusement lacing his voice.

You froze.

Your gaze remained fixed straight ahead, too terrified to look back at him. Cold sweat trickled down your spine as your heartbeat thundered in your ears. 

The heavy bag still lay on the ground at your feet. The gold necklace weighed against your pocket. And clutched tightly between your trembling fingers was his badge holder, still opened to the identification that had shattered every ounce of confidence you had only moments ago.

You had been fucking caught.

Not just by any random stranger. 

But by a goddamn police captain.

"I got your water, baby," he said, his voice coated in quiet amusement. You flinched the moment the cold bottle brushed against the back of your thighs, the chill a cruel contrast to the heat of your panic.

"O-Officer, I—"

"You forgot something, didn't you?" he whispered against your ear, his grip never loosening around your wrist. 

The bottle of water lazily traced the length of your trembling thigh, as though he had all the time in the world.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs threatened to give out beneath you, hot tears gathering until they spilled freely down your cheeks. Every frantic thought crashed into the next, leaving you unable to form a single coherent sentence.

He leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting just below your ear.

"You forgot my wallet, baby." his voice dropped into a slow drawl. "That's my badge holder."

A broken sob caught in your throat. Your future flashed before your eyes in vivid, terrifying fragments. 

You could already see the cold metal of handcuffs locking around your wrists, the flashing red and blue lights, the backseat of a patrol car, a holding cell, your family finding out, your future slipping through your fingers before you had even been given the chance to fight for it. Everything you had worked so hard for, every dream you had stubbornly clung to despite your circumstances, all of it seemed to crumble into pieces in the span of a few unbearable seconds.

You had just thrown your entire life away.

“P-Please, I-’’

"Is my poor baby too dumb, or does that pretty little head of yours just want to get fucked?"

You shook your head frantically, tears spilling faster down your cheeks. "N-No, no, Officer, please... I'm sorry. It was a mistake—"

A startled gasp escaped you when he suddenly spun you around, your back pressing against the rough bark of the tree. Your tear-clouded eyes instantly met his dark ones, the amusement lingering in them only making the panic clawing at your chest grow worse.

He raised a brow, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment.

"Aww, look at you…so scared, baby." he cooed.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Want me to give you a chance?’’ he tilted his head.

Hope bloomed inside your chest so suddenly it almost hurt.

Jungkook took another step forward, his broad frame caging you against the tree until there was nowhere left to run. Your entire body trembled beneath his gaze, your heart pounding so violently you could barely hear yourself think, and you looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, clinging to the smallest possibility that he might actually let you go.

"P-Please, Officer… I-I'm sorry..." you stammered, the words tumbling over one another in your haste. "I-I know it was wrong, a-and that—"

‘’Run.” 

Your lips parted in disbelief.

"W-What?"

He slowly licked his lower lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that carried no warmth whatsoever. Stepping closer until there wasn't even a breath of space left between you, he brushed the pad of his thumb across your trembling lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Run, baby. Run as fast as you can.” his voice dropped into a low murmur, his tone as though he were talking to a child. "And when I catch you, I'm gonna take you to prison. I'll fuck you every day behind those rusty metal bars. I'll use your tight little pussy until your hole is gaping and leaking. Maybe I'll even let my comrades fuck you too. We'll take turns fucking that slutty, manipulative pussy of yours."

Desperation made people do reckless things. 

It silenced reason, drowned out fear, and left nothing behind but the instinct to survive.

You spun around and bolted before your mind had the chance to catch up, your legs carrying you as fast as they could through the dimly lit streets. Instead of following the brighter roads, you veered into the narrow, shadowed alleyways, your panicked thoughts convincing you that the light was far more dangerous than the dark. 

People could help you—but the moment they learned why you were running, they wouldn't see a terrified woman. 

They would see a thief.

A criminal…and they would hand you right back to him.

Your lungs burned, each desperate breath sharper than the last, your feet throbbing against the unforgiving pavement as you forced yourself to keep going. When a tall chain-link fence came into view, fear surged through your exhausted body. You stumbled toward it, your shaking hands already reaching for the metal, frantically searching for a way to climb over it.

You never got the chance.

A powerful hand suddenly seized both of your wrists from behind, wrenching them backward before you could react. A startled cry tore from your throat as your body was dragged away from the fence, only to be slammed against it a heartbeat later.

 “L-Let me go!” you cried.

The rough metal dug painfully into your cheek, your breath knocked from your lungs as he forced your arms higher behind your back. Then you heard it—

A sharp metallic click…cold steel closed around your wrist.

You were handcuffed.

He secured the other cuff around the metal fence, leaving your wrists restrained above your head. The cold steel bit into your skin as you instinctively struggled against it, your cheek pressed harshly against the chain-link, the rough metal scraping your flushed skin every time you tried to pull away. The handcuffs refused to budge, each desperate tug only making them dig in deeper.

"N-No... no, please," you cried, your voice breaking into helpless sobs.

Instead of hurting you, he reached up and gently combed a few loose strands of hair away from your face, the unexpected tenderness making your entire body flinch. His fingers lingered for a moment, idly twirling a lock of your hair around them before giving it a soft tug.

"Shh, it’s okay…" he said in a mocking tone.

"I-I’m sorry, please…I’ll do anything—"

The plea died on your lips when you felt him lower himself behind you.

“Anything, baby?” he whispered.

He settled onto one knee before slowly gathering the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until your damp panties were fully exposed beneath the cool night air. His large hands slid down to your thighs, spreading your legs apart with an effortless firmness that left your body trembling against the restraint. 

Your eyes widened as you pulled uselessly at the handcuffs, your legs instinctively trying to close, but there was nowhere to go. A warm tongue suddenly pressed against the fabric between your thighs, dragging slowly over your sticky panties.

His nose remained buried in your tight hole, drawing in a slow, deep breath as though savoring every scent of you. His tongue dragged languidly along your slit from behind, the damp fabric of your panties doing little to dull the sensation.

"O-Oh gosh-" you cried, fresh tears spilling down your flushed cheeks as you felt him inhale against your clothed cunt again. His tongue swept over you once more, leaving your panties even wetter than before.

“Let me play with you.” he murmured before diving in.

You bit down hard on your lip, another wave of warmth pooling between your thighs despite yourself. More tears slipped from your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure tangling with the fear coursing through your body.

I am not enjoying this, I am not-

A low groan rumbled behind you as he spread your legs farther apart. His pointed nose brushed against your puckered hole, inhaling deeply. 

You craned your neck to look around, but there was no one in sight. Only the lonely yellow glow of a streetlamp stretched across the empty street, casting long shadows around the two of you.

When he flipped your panties aside, you instinctively tried to close your legs, but a startled gasp escaped your lips as his palm suddenly came down against your inner thigh with a sharp smack, the sting urging your legs back open for him.

“Open up for me, baby. Let me taste your little pussy,” he murmured, giving your thigh another light tap as he silently coaxed you to spread yourself wider.

You were getting wetter, but the thought of someone's tongue directly against your pussy was beyond your virgin imagination.

When you still didn't move, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.

You felt him rise behind you, the warmth of his body disappearing for only a brief moment before the unmistakable click of metal made your breath hitch. Before you even had the chance to turn your head, the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against your temple.

A broken cry caught in your throat, your entire body trembling. 

“W-What-”

"Spread your legs."

His voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation. The barrel pressed more insistently against your temple, and with another shaky sob, your knees slowly fell farther apart.

A satisfied hum vibrated from his chest. Only then did he pull the gun away, tucking it back into the holster at the back of his belt before lowering himself between your thighs once more. His hands wrapped around them, holding you open exactly how he wanted, and the moment he buried his face between your legs, a deep groan escaped him.

“Oh, gosh!” you moaned.

You were already leaking, his broad tongue dragged slowly up and down your chubby, swollen folds before slipping between them, teasing your slit as it delved deeper, massaging your inner walls with slow, deliberate strokes that only left you wetter.

“Pretty.” he leaned back and spat onto your cunt, watching the thick strand of saliva mingle with your slick wetness. “Do you regret what you did, baby?”

His fingers hooked beneath your outer lips, spreading them apart just enough to watch his saliva disappear deeper into your cunt. He spat again, his gaze fixed on the way it slipped between your folds, leaving your sensitive inner walls glistening.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned shamelessly, the torture only making you wetter.

“Would you let me do anything I want?” he asked, staring at your fluttering cunt.

You bit your lip, feeling your milky juices drip from every degrading thing he'd been saying to you.

“Yes.” you said in a tiny voice.

He chuckled, “You wanted to be used like this, didn't you?” 

He leaned in, his tongue flattening as he licked from your perineum to your clit in one slow, vulgar stroke, spreading his spit until his own drool began to trail down his chin. 

“You wanted this…you sat on my lap, ground your filthy cunt against my cock, acted like a good little decoy so you could rob me. But your hole's been thanking me the whole time, hasn't it?”

You shut your eyes tightly when you felt him continuously spitting on your cunt, your pussy was getting so wet that you felt it dripping on your inner thighs down to your ankles.

He held your folds apart, leaving you completely exposed for his hungry gaze. Leaning back, he watched the way they trembled and pulsed beneath his eyes before leaning down again, his tongue already darting out to lap up every drop of your juices. Each time he swallowed, he would only spit over you again, coating you until you were slick enough for him to start all over.

Your eyes widened as the muzzle of the gun pressed against your inner thigh, cool, unforgiving steel sending a shiver through your body. It slowly slid higher until it settled against your entrance, the tip quickly growing slick with your wetness.

"O-Officer—"

“Shh, you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? To rape your thief little pussy.” he mocked, his eyes fixed on the way the tip of the gun glistened with your milky juices as he slowly dragged it up and down your chubby slit.

Desperation was a frightening thing. 

It stripped away reason piece by piece until all that remained was the helpless anticipation of whatever came next.

When you didn't answer, too absorbed in the feeling of the foreign gun against your pussy, he pressed it harder against you, drawing a pained whimper from your lips as tears stung your eyes.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you," he said firmly, applying just a little more pressure.

"Y-Yes," you whimpered.

He tilted his head. "Yes, what?"

You bit your lip. "Y-Yes, O-Officer."

He hummed in approval before pulling the gun away. His tongue darted out to taste the tip, sucking your wetness from the cold metal before releasing it with a soft pop.

A low groan rumbled from his chest as he buried himself between your thighs once more, diving back into your exposed pussy with relentless hunger. The obscene sounds of slurping, sucking, and the occasional spit echoed through the place, each one making you feel weaker, more helpless beneath him.

You bit down hard on your lip as you felt your orgasm creeping closer. You tried to hold it back, to keep control, but your body betrayed you. 

Every flick of his tongue, every slow suck, every warm trail of spit sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your pussy convulse beneath his tongue. 

“F-Fuck-” you whimpered.

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your arms ached against the restraints, and your eyes rolled back as the pulsing sensation deep within you grew stronger with every passing second. You wanted to pull away from his mouth, to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his grip remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted as he sucked out every last tremor, refusing to let you move even as the overstimulation left your body trembling.

“Mhm, you taste so good, baby,” he whispered, leaning back just enough to pinch your folds together, as though squeezing every last drop of your milky white juices from your pussy before leaning in again to catch it on his tongue.

A helpless whimper escaped your lips. Your legs were on the verge of giving out beneath you, your arms still held captive by the restraints while your pussy throbbed with overwhelming sensitivity. As he rose to his feet, his palm landed against your cunt in a careless slap, making you flinch before he lazily wiped the sheen of your juices from the corner of his mouth.

His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through the strands before tightening into a firm fist. He tugged until your head tipped back, exposing the line of your throat, and his lips brushed against your tear-dampened cheek.

“Wanna steal more, baby?”

His grip twisted tighter, pulling your head back until your neck arched painfully. 

He slowly dragged his tongue along the salty trail of your tears, licking your cheek with slow strokes, savoring the taste of your cries as another quiet hum of approval rumbled in his chest.

You whimpered, your body trembling as you felt the hard outline of his clothed bulge press against the plush of your ass. He slowly ground his erection against you, a low grunt vibrating beneath your ear while his hand kept a firm hold on your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to suck and leave harsh bites along your neck.

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered, grinding his cock more firmly against your bare ass. “My money? My jewelry?”

“O-Officer-”

His fist tightened in your hair, forcing another helpless whimper from your lips as he dragged his tongue along your throat, feeling the way you swallowed hard beneath him. “You wanted all of it, didn't you?”

His teeth sank into your neck once more as his clothed bulge rutted harder against the cleft of your ass, the seam of his pants catching against your skin with every slow roll of his hips. At the same time, his free hand slipped beneath your dress, yanking the fabric higher before grabbing a full handful of your bare ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

"My pretty, pretty thief," he praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his hips rolled against you with even more force.

He wrenched his pants open just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the heated length slapping against one ass cheek before the other. Pre-cum glistened over the swollen tip as he slowly ground the shaft along the plush curve of your ass, coating your skin with every deliberate roll of his hips.

"Feel that? I'm so hard for you, baby."

A helpless mewl slipped past your lips as you weakly shook your head, your entire body trembling while he continued rubbing against your ass.

“Fuck, you make me so fucking horny.” he grunted.

Your cheeks burned crimson, the same flush spreading across your neck, and another whimper escaped you when he suddenly jerked your head back by the hair. 

"Grind back, baby, or I'll fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You cried harder, your body trembling as you reluctantly began to move your ass against his cock. A deep groan escaped him, his right hand settling firmly on your hip as he looked down, watching the way his hard length slid slowly through the cleft of your ass with every hesitant grind.

He spat over the curve of your ass for added lubrication, and a helpless cry caught in your throat when you felt the warm saliva land against your puckered rim. Despite the humiliation, your pussy only grew wetter.

His tattooed hand suddenly snaked around your waist, trailing lower until it reached your cunt. You gasped as his fingers cupped your pussy before hooking between your folds, spreading your lips apart into a lewd V-shape for him to admire.

“Look down and watch your clit, baby.” he rasped, tilting your head down so your gaze fell between your legs.

“P-Please...” you croaked, your body growing weaker by the second, your pussy aching for more even as the rest of you threatened to give out.

“Wanna be fucked so bad, huh?”

You gasped as his middle finger suddenly pushed between the V-shaped hold of his fingers, slipping inside your tight cunt. Your walls fluttered helplessly around the thick digit as he slowly worked it deeper.

“Oh! Mhmp!” you screamed.

His cock left your ass, the slick tip dragging slowly down until it notched against your entrance, smearing pre-cum and his spit over your swollen folds.

“Gonna fuck you good, baby…you’ve been a very bad girl.” he yanked your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue traced a slow path from your neck to the shell of your ear. “Need to fuck some sense into you, hmm?’’

“Mhmp!” you whimpered.

“Shh... moan for me, baby. It'll feel good.” his finger pressed deeper one last time, stretching your walls before he slowly withdrew it. The emptiness lasted only a heartbeat before he replaced it with the thick, leaking head of his cock, nudging its way against your entrance.

“Ahhh!” you screamed at the sudden stretch, his thick cock forcing its way into your tight pussy until you could feel every pulsing vein dragging against your walls as he pushed deeper.

He thrust halfway, then stopped, watching your cunt spasm around him, a thin ribbon of milky white release clinging to his shaft like a ring. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he slowly pulled back before driving into you harder, bottoming out in one deep thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass hard enough to make the fence rattle.

“Need to use this cunt every day. Maybe I’ll let my comrades fuck this tight little cunt so they can loosen you up for me, yeah?” he grunted, pushing even deeper until his balls rested snug against your cunt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against the curve of your ass with every shallow grind.

“U-Ugh, p-please...” you screamed, trying to wriggle, but he only answered with a low grunt against your ear. Then, without warning, he withdrew his cock completely.

For one fleeting moment, you thought he was finally going to let you go.

But your eyes widened the instant you heard the unmistakable clink of his leather belt being unclasped.

Your eyes widened as you felt him wrap the leather around your neck, fastening it just snug enough for him to tug whenever your cries grew too loud, cutting off your words with every sharp pull.

“Behave, baby.” he chuckled, easing himself inside you once more while keeping a firm grip on the belt for leverage. Every now and then, he gave it another deliberate tug, silencing your screams as his hips continued to drive into you.

The moment his hips began to roll against yours, your eyes fluttered back, pleasure blooming beneath the sting until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. 

“O-Oh, O-Officer!” a shaky sob escaped your lips, born as much from the humiliation as the sensation itself. Your pussy ached for more, clenching helplessly around his thick girth, betraying you with every pulse.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from behind you. His arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he circled his hips into yours, each relentless thrust threatening to lift your body off your feet.

“Is my baby enjoying this?” he whispered, giving the leather another measured yank, just enough to cut your sob short. The strap bit into the flushed skin of your throat as his hips snapped forward again, his balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every forceful thrust.

“This is turning you on, huh?”

You shook your head, but your pussy only grew wetter, your cries slowly dissolving into helpless moans as he continued to fuck you from behind.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered.

“N-No, Officer.” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you gave a slow, trembling shake of your head.

“Yeah? You like getting used?”

He gave the belt another sharp tug, cutting off your whimpers before loosening it just enough to let a broken moan spill from your lips. Then he drove into you even deeper, his mushroom tip grinding against your spongy walls until you could feel your own milky juices coating his shaft.

"Gonna lock you up in a cell, baby… you'll be the precinct's little fucktoy."

The moment his thick head brushed against your g-spot, your entire body spasmed around his cock. A harsh groan tore from his throat as your walls clamped down on him, forcing him to pull out almost immediately. His movements turned urgent, one hand fumbling for the keys clipped to his belt while the other steadied you. Your hazy eyes fluttered shut as you felt the handcuffs finally come undone from your wrists.

You thought he was done.

A weak gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly flipped you over to face him, your exhausted arms falling limply to your sides as he stripped away the rest of your dress. Without a word, he lifted you with effortless strength and pinned you against the cold metal fence before guiding his hard cock back inside you. A broken whimper slipped from your throat at the oversensitivity left behind by your previous orgasm, your body instinctively tensing around him as his mouth found your exposed nipples, sucking them greedily while he chased his own release.

Your body bounced helplessly with every powerful thrust, like a toy being used exactly as he pleased. Your tongue nearly lolled from your parted lips, your mind reduced to nothing but scattered pleasure as his larger frame manhandled yours with ease. Low grunts and strained moans vibrated against your swollen nipples, each sound muffled by the way his mouth refused to leave them.

A rough growl tore from his throat as his climax finally overtook him. You felt the thick warmth of his release spilling deep inside your already used hole, his hips continuing to roll against yours in slow, deep motions, as though determined to push every last drop of his cum even deeper. 

“Fuck, baby,” his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your breast, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the lingering waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Some of it trickled down the insides of your thighs, warm against your skin. Your eyes fluttered, barely able to stay open…your body hanging limply in his grasp.

When he finally set you back on your feet, your legs nearly gave out beneath you. Before you could steady yourself, he was already kneeling between your thighs again, firmly spreading them apart as though he hadn't just reduced them to trembling. 

“W-Wait-” you panicked.

A helpless cry escaped your lips when his mouth found your swollen pussy once more, lapping up the mixture of his release and your milky wetness, slurping every drop with relentless hunger. The overstimulation sent your body reeling, your clit already so unbearably sensitive that the moment his tongue slid upward to wrap around it, your pussy pulsed against his mouth, another orgasm crashing through you before you could stop it.

He looked up at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching every twitch and shudder that overtook your body as you came around his mouth. 

You could see the way his cheeks hollowed with every slow suck on your clit, and somehow the sight of his discarded gun and badge lying carelessly on the floor beside him made the moment feel even dirtier—

A police officer on his knees, devotedly eating out the very thief he had caught.

Only when he was satisfied did he rise to his feet. His hand slipped into your hair, gently tugging you toward him until his lips claimed yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you with greedy desperation. Your eyelids grew heavy, your knees threatening to buckle again, your body barely able to remain upright.

You flinched when you felt his hardened cock brush against your inner thighs even as he continued kissing you, a wave of panic surging through your exhausted body. Your pussy already felt swollen and unbearably sensitive, every nerve still humming from the relentless orgasms he had pulled from you.

As though sensing the fear creeping into your expression, he let out a low chuckle, slowly pulling away from your lips to study your face.

"Aww, is my baby tired?" he cooed, the words dripping with mock honey as he nudged your chin upward. 

You shook your head, your body instinctively yielding to whatever he was going to do next.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he bit down on his lower lip, your quiet submission enough to make his cock throb.

"Kneel for me."

Your knees trembled beneath you as you slowly lowered yourself, a startled gasp escaping your lips the moment the swollen tip dragged a lazy streak of pre-cum across your cheek.

"Open up, baby…daddy's not done." he gathered your hair into one hand with a gentleness that belonged to a lover rather than the man standing before you, tilting your face toward his groin, a smile tugging at his lips that never quite reached the darkness in his eyes.

"Clean up the mess you made, hmm? Open wide for Officer."

The swollen head nudged past your lips, and a mock-pitying sigh slipped from him as your mouth slowly yielded around his cock, your tongue flattening instinctively beneath the weight before a helpless gag caught in your throat.

"There, there," he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair. "Suck nice and slow, pretty girl."

He began to rock his hips into your mouth in slow, shallow thrusts, while his free hand continued to pet your hair with a tenderness so painfully at odds with the degradation spilling from his lips.

"That's it, baby," he praised softly. "Tongue flat, like the dumb, cute slut you are."

He pushed his cock deeper until the swollen mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat, the prominent veins along his shaft dragging against the roof of your mouth with every slow thrust, the upward curve making each movement reach even deeper.

"I can give you everything you want, baby," he whispered, a groan slipping past his lips as his thrusts gradually became sloppier, his grip on your hair tightening with every push. Saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth as you fought the urge to choke, wet, muffled gargles escaping your throat each time he buried himself deeper. Your eyes burned, quickly turning red as tears pooled along your lash line.

He cradled your hair once more, the tenderness of the gesture clashing with the relentless pace of his hips.

"I can provide for you... spoil you with all of my money," he murmured, easing himself forward until your nose brushed against the coarse hair at his pelvis. 

He held your face snugly in place for a brief moment before slowly rolling his hips, then gently pulled you back just enough to let you catch your breath, his saliva-slick cock dragging across your flushed cheeks.

"Do you want that?" he asked, tilting his head as he lazily ground his cock against your swollen cheek.

You nodded eagerly, your tear-filled eyes never leaving his.

He chuckled, giving your cheek a light tap with the head of his cock. "Do you understand me, baby?"

You pouted…your cheeks burning red, your eyes swollen, your lips wet with his precum. 

“Mhm..” 

“Mhm?” he chuckled.

He bit his lower lip as he stared down at you, quietly admiring the mess he'd made. “Cute.” 

Without warning, he yanked your head forward until he was fully seated inside your mouth, your nose pressed into his pubic hair as his balls slapped against your chin with each shallow roll of his hips.

"Gurk—gurk—"

You choked around him, tears immediately spilling down your cheeks, but the only response he gave was a deep groan as he slowly began to fuck your face, each thrust forcing another muffled gargle from your throat.

"Fuck, baby...I'm gonna cum."

He pulled out just enough to lean down and spit onto your tongue before pushing his cock back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, the loose belt still hanging around your neck, its end dragging through the dirt every time your head was forced forward.

You gagged helplessly around him, your cheeks hollowing as your eyes rolled back, your head rocking back and forth with every relentless thrust while he used your mouth however he pleased. And when you felt his rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts growing rougher and increasingly sloppy, he suddenly pulled free with a low groan. Before you could even catch your breath, he hauled you to your feet, one arm wrapped firmly around your body as he guided his cock against your cunt, his other hand positioning himself before pushing his hard cock back into your tight hole.

“I’m gonna cum inside baby, a reward for being a good little toy for daddy.”

A broken cry escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering the moment he came. Thick, warm spurts filled you one after another while your body trembled from the lingering overstimulation, his hips continuing to jerk and roll against yours as he emptied every last drop inside you.

"These are worth thousands, Y/N! Oh my God."

Hanni's eyes widened in utter disbelief, her gaze sweeping across the worn wooden table as though she couldn't decide which stolen treasure to look at first.

A thick leather wallet, its compartments stuffed with crisp bills. Heavy gold necklaces lay tangled together beside matching rings, each piece gleaming with the unmistakable richness of high-karat gold. A limited-edition watch rested nearby, its polished face catching the kitchen light with every slight movement. And a duffel bag overflowed with expensive perfumes, bottle after bottle worth more than most people's monthly salary.

A slow smile tugged at your lips as your gaze wandered over Jungkook's belongings scattered across the table.

You never told Hanni that you'd gotten caught. 

Instead, you let her believe everything had gone according to plan.

Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

He had given you far more than you had ever planned on stealing.

Tucked beneath your bed, hidden inside an old shoebox, were stacks of cash and signed checks worth enough to keep you comfortable for a long while—buying you the time to find a better path for yourself.

You hadn't even told Hanni about them.

Not because you didn't trust her, but because you knew the moment she saw that kind of money, questions would follow. Questions you couldn't answer without admitting where it had come from. So you kept the cash hidden, the checks tucked safely beneath it, and carried the secret alone.

He still hadn't turned you over to the authorities, even though it was painfully obvious he'd known exactly what kind of person you were from the very beginning.

From the moment he'd let you reach for the clasp of his necklace, he'd already known.

No high-ranking police officer—especially not a captain…would've failed to notice what you were trying to do. He had seen through you from the very beginning, long before you'd ever managed to slip a single thing into your hands.

Why did he let you?

You smiled seductively, slipping the watch and wallet beneath your dress before taking another sip of your now-warm beer, your gaze lingering on your target, who was far too drunk to notice the way your attention had never truly been on him.

Perhaps you hadn't changed.

Because here you were, stealing again…chasing the same thrill, the same rush, while somewhere beneath every excuse you made for yourself, another reason quietly waited.

Maybe you wanted to see him again.

You left the crowded club with the stolen watch and wallet hidden beneath your dress, weaving through the lingering crowd until the music faded behind you. The cool night air greeted your flushed skin as you made your way toward the smoking area, where you and Hanni had agreed to meet.

You had been stealing for six months now. 

You managed to steal from a shopping mall, a restaurant, a boutique, and even a high-end store—your usual targets where men were rarely involved.

Tonight, you decided to try flirting again…attempting to seduce someone despite the fact that your only experience had been with him.

Before you could even pull out your phone to text Hanni, someone pushed you against the cold brick wall.

Familiar dark, round eyes stared back at you, the same pierced lips curled around a cigarette as smoke drifted lazily into the night. Tattooed arms caged you in on either side, leaving nowhere for you to go.

Your eyes widened.

Seeing him dressed in the crisp navy uniform of a police captain stole the air from your lungs. 

Gold captain's bars gleamed from the epaulets on his shoulders, while a polished metal badge rested proudly over his chest. His duty belt sat low around his waist, crowded with the familiar weight of handcuffs, a radio, holster, and the rest of the equipment that came with his authority. The neatly pressed fabric, the black tie tucked beneath the collar, the nameplate pinned above his pocket—it all transformed the man you remembered into someone far more intimidating.

Power looked infuriatingly good on him.

Before you could utter a single word, his left hand slipped under your dress. Your breath caught as his fingers found the watch and wallet strapped against your thigh with effortless precision.

“Looks like my baby didn't learn her lesson, hmm?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

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[rosalescent]

between books and cigarettes || JJK

Oneshot

↬ you're holding a star, and eventually, he's going to realise you're just a rock₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook's entire universe revolves around the girl who holds his heart, but when a cruel influence weaponises her unspoken insecurities, she begins to quietly unravel from the inside out, leaving him to pull her back before she is consumed entirely.

Genre/Tags: university au, romance, angst, fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort, soft Jungkook, crying Jungkook, domestic fluff

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: substance use, smoking cigarettes and joints, inferiority complex, overthinking, panic attack, manipulation, gaslighting, toxic friendship, fear of abandonment, emotional breakdown (pls lmk if i have missed any)

Notes: i really enjoyed writing this, literally binge wrote it in like a night and a bit, hope you like it!! oh, and if you notice any timeline inconsistencies... no you didn't. also i saw bts and holy shit... i've actually peaked in life... i fear it doesn't get better than this

Requested By: @poetryrosee

╰› fanfic masterlist

Morning arrives not with the harsh rattle of an alarm, but with the slow warmth of a thumb tracing the curve of your cheek.

You stir against the covers, the crisp scent of his laundry detergent and his distinct, sun-warmed skin enveloping you. When you blink open your eyes, the world is a soft, blurry haze of amber morning light filtering through the sheer curtains, yet his face is in perfect, sharp focus. And, of course, he is already looking down at you. He has clearly been awake for a while; you can tell by the way his silken hair is messy but softly pushed back from his forehead, and by how his eyes are clear, dark, and utterly consumed by the sight of you.

"Morning," he murmurs. His voice is a low, raspy velvet, thick with sleep but entirely focused on your face. He doesn't just look at you; he anchors himself to you, as if waking up and verifying you are still here is the most critical part of his day. His warm hand slides from your cheek down to the nape of your neck, his long fingers tangling into your hair, gently guiding your face closer to press a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead. Then to your closed eyelid. Then to the very tip of your nose.

"Jungkook," you giggle, the sound muffled against his bare chest. You attempt to pull the thick duvet over your head, a desperate, instinctive shield against the glaring sunlight and the violent flusters you get from the sheer intensity of the man beside you.

But he simply laughs at your feeble attempt. It’s a low, rumbling vibration that echoes right against your ribs, and with an effortless flex of his arm, he pulls you right back against him. He holds you tightly, your front flushed against his chest, his strong arms locking around your waist with a firm but incredibly gentle grip: the possessive, protective hold you've grown entirely accustomed to over the past year and a half.

"Don't hide from me," he whispers into your hair, kissing the crown of your head, his breath warm and comforting. "Let me look at you. I haven't seen your face all night."

"I was sleeping right next to you the entire time," you point out, a small, sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you rest your chin on his chest, looking up at his sharp jawline.

"Doesn't count," he declares shamelessly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Your eyes were closed. You weren't talking or looking at me. And you were turned the other way. It was pure torture," He dramatically states before leaning down to capture your lips in a deeply sweet kiss. It’s a possessive sort of affection, the kind that makes your knees weak even whilst lying down, making you feel like you are the absolute centre of his universe, the axis upon which his entire life rotates. To Jungkook, you hang the moon, and he looks at you as if every piece of literature you study, every mundane, passing thought you voice, is absolute gospel.

He pulls away just an inch, his doe eyes searching yours. "Are you hungry? I made breakfast. Oatmeal with the berries you like, and I brewed the dark roast."

"You didn't have to do that," you say softly. He’s a fourth-year law student with a mock trial preparation checklist that could double as a legal encyclopaedia, and yet he spends his precious morning minutes curating your breakfast.

I must've been a saint in a past life to have him, you think. But right on the heels of that thought, a cold, heavy weight drops into your stomach. Or maybe I'm just living on borrowed time before the universe realises a mistake was made.

"I wanted to," he corrects easily, shifting his weight so he can pull you up into a sitting position against the headboard. He reaches over to the nightstand, lifting a perfectly presented bowl of oatmeal, steam still rising from it in lazy curls, alongside a heavy ceramic mug of coffee. He places it carefully on your lap, watching your face with an expectant, eager expression that reminds you of a golden retriever waiting for praise. "Eat up. You have that long seminar today, right? The automatic modernism one? You need energy."

"And you have IP at nine," you say, taking a slow, steady sip of the coffee. It’s perfect, the exact amount of milk, the perfect temperature. Of course it is. Jungkook doesn't do anything halfway. He doesn't know how to fail. "Did you finish revising your brief?"

"Finished it at two," he says casually, stretching his arms high over his head. He shrugs it off as if staying up until the early hours of the morning to master a legal brief while maintaining a perfect GPA and a leading role in the upcoming campus theatre production were simply light work. "It’s fine. I’m ahead of schedule. Tell me about your day instead. Are you going to finish your Pavlov draft?"

"I’m trying to," you murmur, your enthusiastic tone slipping away as you stare down at the dark blue berries in your bowl.

The sudden, suffocating weight of your own academic pressure settles heavily in your chest, instantly souring the sweet taste of the breakfast. Being a second-year Literature major, a field which is volatile, entirely subjective, and agonisingly hard to prove yourself, has had you drowning more times than you’d like to admit. Yet at the same time, Jungkook operates in a world of absolute, ruthless metrics, and he dominates every single one of them without breaking a sweat.

He reaches out, his thumb catching a stray crumb near your lip, his gaze softening into something so profoundly tender it almost hurts to look at. "You will draft it beautifully. You’re the smartest person I know, Y/N. You make my rigid law arguments look like child's play. No need to stress about it."

He means it. That’s the most terrifying part of this: he genuinely, truly believes you are his equal. He looks at you through a warped, beautiful lens of blind devotion, completely blind to the vast chasm between his effortless perfection and your frantic, and practically undignified, sprint just to stay in his peripheral vision. Every compliment he gives you feels less like praise and more like a debt you have no idea how to repay.

You force a tight nod, swallowing past the bitter lump of inadequacy in your throat, and quickly finish the food he prepared so he won't see the panic starting to manifest in your eyes. The clock on his wall ticks forward, cruel, mechanical, and relentless. It’s 7:45 AM.

"I need to get ready," you say, setting the empty bowl aside on the nightstand and shifting your legs to swing them out of the warm bed.

Jungkook instantly hooks a firm hand around your wrist, his grip warm and unyielding as he pulls you right back into his space for one more desperate, lingering hug. He buries his face deeply into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. "Stay. Five minutes. Please."

"Jungkook, I don't even have my clothes here," you laugh, though the sound is noticeably strained now.

He groans into your skin, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second, his possessiveness flaring, before he reluctantly lets you go. "Fine. But I’m walking you down to the lobby."

"No, don't," you say quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly, the words slipping out in a sharp, defensive spike. You soften your voice immediately, forcing a playful, easy smile onto your face to cover the slip. "You need to prepare for your formal debate later. I don't want the star of the society looking rumpled and distracted because he was escorting his gremlin girlfriend back to her residence hall. Stay here. Focus." You punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheeks.

He huffs, a sweet, exaggerated pouting expression crossing his handsome face, but he relents under your touch, leaning forward to press one final, firm, breathless kiss to your lips. "Call me the second your seminar ends. I want to have lunch with you. I'll buy you that pastry you like."

"I will," you promise, the word feeling heavy.

You gather your scattered things, slipping into his navy-blue university hoodie that completely swallows your frame. It smells strongly of him: rich, clean, and safe. You slip out of his apartment quietly, the heavy wood door clicking shut behind you with a solid click.

The moment you enter the sterile hallway of his block, the protective warmth of his presence evaporates entirely. It is replaced by the icy, creeping reality of who you are when he isn't around.

You walk briskly down the stairs, pull the heavy hood low over your eyes, step out into the morning air, and cross the wide, bustling quad. You pull the fabric tighter around yourself, feeling entirely like a thief, an imposter who managed to survive another night in a world where she simply doesn't belong. You aren't matching his pace; you are just a ghost wearing his clothes, desperately praying no one notices the difference.

The lecture hall you have found yourself in is grand, old, and suffocatingly prestigious. Wood-panelled walls rise up to high ceilings, and the tiered seating is packed to the brim with students, professors, and esteemed guests. Even the air smells of old paper, leather, and the distinct electricity of competitive intellect.

You sit near the back of the auditorium, your hands shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket, trying to make yourself as small and inconspicuous as possible. You shouldn't even really be here; you have a mountain of reading for your contemporary prose class, but Jungkook had looked at you with those wide, pleading eyes last week, asking if you’d come watch his debate. “I speak better when you’re in the room,” he had told you, entirely earnest.

Down on the stage of the hall, Jungkook is standing behind a heavy mahogany podium. He is dressed in a crisp, tailored black suit, the uniform of the university’s law debate society. He looks terrifyingly striking. His broad shoulders fill out the jacket perfectly, and his hair is neatly styled away from his face. He is currently adjusting his microphone, speaking casually to one of his teammates, completely devoid of the nervous tremors that are currently plaguing every other speaker in the room. He is entirely in his element.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

You blink, jolting slightly out of your thoughts as a girl gestures to the empty seat next to you. She is fashionable, carrying a sleek leather tote bag and a tablet, looking every bit a pristine student.

"No, go ahead," you say softly, offering a polite, small smile.

The girl sits down, smoothing out her skirt, and immediately focuses her gaze down on the stage. She sighs, a dreamy, slightly envious sound. "Thank god I managed to grab a seat. The turnout for these competitions is always insane when it’s the senior tier."

"Yeah, it’s really crowded," you agree, keeping your voice neutral.

The girl turns her head to look at you, her eyes scanning your casual attire, a plain tee paired with an oversized jacket and jeans, a stark contrast to the numerous sharp blazers surrounding you. She tilts her head. "Are you a law first-year? I haven't seen you around the faculty building."

"Oh, no," you say, a familiar tightness squeezing in your chest. "I’m a Literature major. I’m just... visiting."

"Ah, an arts student," she says, her tone perfectly pleasant but carrying that subtle, unvoiced condescension that STEM and law majors always seem to harbour. "What brought you all the way over to this side of campus? Just curious about legal rhetoric?"

You hesitate. You could lie. You could say you were just bored or that you were researching classical speech structures. But a small, stubborn part of you, the part that loves Jungkook and wants to claim the space he so willingly gives you, makes you speak the truth.

"I’m actually here to watch Jungkook," you say, pointing a finger toward the podium where he stands. "I’m his girlfriend."

The girl’s eyes instantly widen. They snap from you down to Jungkook, then back to you, scanning your face with a brand-new, hypercritical intensity. The casual friendliness vanishes, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated shock.

"Ohhh," the girl says, the syllable stretching out, heavy and loaded. "So, you’re the golden boy's girlfriend?"

The phrase lands like a physical weight in your lap. The golden boy's girlfriend. Not Y/N. Not a person with her own merits, her own thoughts, her own identity. Just an attachment. An anomaly.

"Yeah," you say, your voice dropping a fraction.

"Wow," she says, a forced, tight laugh escaping her lips as she looks back down at the floor. "Everyone on campus talks about him, you know. He’s practically a myth in the law department. Top of his class, literally won the regional theatre showcase last semester... people joke that he’s a synthetic human created in a lab because nobody can actually be that perfect at everything." She pauses, her eyes lingering on Jungkook as he confidently shuffles his note cards. "You must feel... incredibly lucky."

Lucky. The word feels like plastic in your mouth.

"I am," you whisper.

The debate begins, and the hall falls into a dead silence. When it is Jungkook’s turn to speak, he steps forward with an effortless grace that commands the entire room. His voice rings out through the auditorium: clear, articulate, layered with a brilliant, biting sarcasm that makes the professors nod in approval, and the students chuckle. He navigates complex legal precedents as if he’s recounting a simple childhood story. He doesn't look at his notes once. He looks entirely, utterly flawless.

At one point, during a brief pause while his opponent frantically searches through papers, Jungkook’s eyes sweep across the crowded tiered seating. He searches the back rows, scanning the sea of faces until his gaze lands directly on you. The sharp, intimidating glare of the star debater melts away for a split second, replaced by a tiny, private smile meant only for you. He gives a barely perceptible nod, a silent acknowledgement that he knows you’re there, before turning back to crush his opponent's argument.

The girl next to you lets out a soft, defeated breath. "See? Effortless. He’s just... on a completely different level than the rest of us."

You don't reply. You can't. Your throat feels tightly constricted. As the auditorium erupts into thunderous applause at the conclusion of his speech, you feel yourself shrinking smaller and smaller into your seat. You look down at your hands, rough and stained faintly with ink from your afternoon lectures.

In this grand, wood-panelled room full of brilliant minds and high ambitions, you feel like a ghost. A plain, monochromatic background character accidentally spliced into a vibrant, high-definition movie about a boy who can fly. You love him, god, you love him so much it scares you, but looking at him down there, bathed in the adulation of his peers, the insidious whisper in the back of your mind grows into a deafening roar: You don't belong here. You are holding a star, and eventually, he’s going to realise you’re just a rock.

The evening is supposed to be a celebration. The society booked out a student lounge, which is filled with the warm glow of string lights and the low hum of indie music playing from a mini speaker hooked up to someone's phone. A small group of you are gathered around a low coffee table: you, your friend Leah, Jungkook, and a few of his friends. Some of them you've come to know quite well, Jimin, and Taehyung; others you guess are from his lectures and the society. Jungkook has his arm slung casually over the back of your chair, his fingers occasionally playing with the sleeve of your shirt, his presence a constant, anchoring weight.

"I’m telling you, the judge was practically ready to hand Jungkook his degree right there on the spot," Jimin laughs, leaning back against the worn leather sofa, a plastic cup of cheap cider in his hand. "The other guy looked like he wanted to cry by the third rebuttal."

"He was just unprepared," Jungkook says modestly, though a proud, boyish smile breaks across his face. He bumps his shoulder against yours, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "Did I do okay? Truly?"

"Are you kidding me? You were amazing, Kook," you say, and you mean it. You turn your head to smile at him, forcing the shadows from your eyes. "They had no chance."

He beams, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he presses a quick, sweet kiss to your cheek, utterly shameless about his affection even in front of his closest friends.

Taehyung snorts from across the table, tossing a peanut at Jungkook. "Get a room, you two. Seriously. A year and what later, and you guys are still acting like you’re in a romance drama. It’s sickening. Let us single people breathe."

Jimin chuckles, shaking his head. "Let them be, Tae. Honestly, we should all be grateful to Y/N. Do you remember what Jungkook was like before he met her? A complete menace. Driving his motorcycle at ungodly hours, staying up all night, smoking a pack a day behind the engineering building because he was stressed out of his mind..."

"Oh, god, the smoking," Taehyung groans, laughing. "He smelled like an old pub twenty-four-seven. And then he meets Y/N, and boom, overnight transformation. The bad boy becomes a model citizen. It’s a miracle he hasn't touched a cigarette since their first official date.”

"It wasn't a miracle," Jungkook says softly, his gaze dropping to look at you, his eyes filled with a raw, intense seriousness that makes your breath catch. "I just realised I wanted to be clean for her. I didn't want her to have to taste ash every time I kissed her. She deserves better than that."

The comment is entirely harmless. It’s meant to be a testament to his love, a beautiful, romantic declaration of how much you mean to him. Jimin and Taehyung let out collective coos, teasing him for being the hopeless romantic that he is.

But inside your head, the words twist. They warp and morph into a grotesque, jagged mirror.

She deserves better than that.

Your stomach drops, a cold, heavy lump of guilt settling deep within your ribs. You remember that night, eighteen months ago, sitting on the steps of the humanities building. You had both been stressed and exhausted, huddled together under his jacket. You had both pulled out a cigarette, lit them, and watched the smoke rise into the crisp night air. And then Jungkook had looked at you and said, "Let’s stop. Together. It’s bad for us, and I want to be better. For you. Let’s make a pact."

You had agreed. You had smiled, kissed him, and thrown your lighter into the trash.

Except you didn't stop.

The laughter of the guys fades into a dull, white noise as the phantom taste of tobacco fills your mouth. You think about the crumpled pack hidden at the very bottom of your makeup bag in your dorm room. You think about the secret, shameful moments on your building's fire escape late at night, your hands shaking as you light it, inhaling the toxic, calming smoke just to keep your racing thoughts from tearing you apart.

Jungkook thinks he changed for you. He thinks he became a better, cleaner version of himself to match the pristine, perfect girl he thinks you are. He has stayed entirely clean for over a year, exercising his iron willpower because his love for you is that pure. And you? You’re a liar. A fraud who couldn't even keep a simple promise, who uses a toxic vice as a crutch because you are too weak to handle the pressure of being loved by him.

"Hey," Jungkook’s voice breaks through your spiral. His hand shifts to rest on your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles through your jeans. "You okay? You look a bit pale."

"Yeah," you force a voice out, your throat dry. "Just... a little tired with all the lectures and that seminar."

"Do you wanna leave?" he asks instantly, completely ready to abandon his friends, his celebration, everything, just because you look a little worn down. "We can go back to my place. I'll make you tea."

"No, no," you say quickly. "Don't be silly. Stay and celebrate. I actually have a couple of library books I need to return before the night drop closes anyway. I'll just head back to my dorm early."

Jungkook frowns, his eyes darkening with immediate reluctance. "I'll walk you."

"Jungkook, stay," you say, your voice carrying a rare, firm edge that surprises him. You soften it immediately with a gentle touch to his cheek. "Please. I'll go with Leah. Hang out with the guys. I’m just going to go straight to bed. I'll call you in the morning, okay?"

He stares at you for a long moment, searching your face for whatever secret you’re keeping, but you force your expression into one of serene exhaustion. Finally, he sighs, leaning forward to press a long, heavy, almost desperate kiss to your lips. "Fine. But text me the exact second you get into your room, or I’m getting a search party."

"I will." You chuckle. He would.

Ten minutes later, you aren't in bed. You are standing on the freezing, rusted metal of your dorm's fourth-floor fire escape, the wind biting through your thin tee; you shouldn’t have left your jacket on your chair. Your hands are trembling violently as you flick a silver lighter, the flame illuminating the dark, empty alleyway below. You press the cigarette to your lips and inhale, the harsh, burning smoke flooding your lungs. It stings, it tastes bitter, and it makes your chest ache with profound, suffocating waves of guilt.

You lean your forehead against the cold metal railing, staring out at the distant lights of Jungkook’s building across the quad. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, hot and angry, as you take another long drag. You are lying to him. You are rotting from the inside out with secrets and self-doubt, while he sits over there, completely, purely, and terribly in love with a girl who doesn't exist.

The university library is supposed to be a sanctuary, but today it feels like a cage. You are surrounded by towers of leather-bound volumes, literary journals, and half-empty cups of lukewarm coffee. Your laptop screen glows blankly back at you, a cruel, flashing cursor mocking your complete inability to string together a single coherent sentence.

Your essay on medieval science fiction is due in forty-eight hours. You have written three paragraphs, and every single one of them reads like absolute garbage. You delete the last sentence for the fourth time, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath that cuts through the dead silence of the humanities floor.

“Come on,” you mutter to yourself, tapping your pen aggressively against the desk. “You’re a lit major. This is the one thing you’re supposed to be good at. Just write the damn analysis.”

But your brain feels entirely blocked, clogged by a thick, suffocating fog of inadequacy. You keep thinking about Jungkook’s perfect legal brief from earlier this week. You keep thinking about how he handles his workload with a calm, systemic efficiency, while you are here, unravelling over a mere two-thousand-word analysis.

"Staring at a blank document won't magically make the words appear, you know."

You flinch, your head snapping up. Standing at the end of your study desk is a girl. She is older, probably a fourth- or fifth-year, dressed in a perfectly tailored tweed blazer and carrying a stack of texts. Her hair is sleek, her makeup flawless, and she carries herself with that distinct, high-class confidence that practically screams that she has her life together. The more you look at her, the more familiar her face becomes.

Oh.

She’s in Jungkook’s year. Serena..? She’s the vice president of the Competitive Debate Society.

"I’m aware," you say, your voice carrying a sharp, defensive edge. You are too tired for polite pleasantries, and your naturally snarky instincts tend to flare up when cornered. "Thanks for the profound psychological insight, though."

Serena doesn't look offended by your bite. Instead, she lets out a soft, elegant chuckle, pulls out the chair opposite you, and sits down without being invited. She sets her heavy law books down with a soft thud. "Don't snap. I’m just offering some sympathy. I see you here all the time, huffing and puffing over those literature books. I’m Serena, by the way. I work with Jungkook in the society."

"I know who you are," you say, closing your laptop slightly, an instinctive gesture to shield your failure from her eyes. "Jungkook mentioned you helped organise the regional tournament."

"Oh, did he?" Serena's eyes flash with a strange, fleeting look of satisfaction before she settles into a warm, patronising smile. She tilts her head, looking at your cluttered desk, the crumpled sticky notes, the highlight-stained pages. "You look completely overwhelmed, sweetie. Are the undergraduate lit modules really that brutal? I always assumed arts degrees were a bit more... flexible."

There it is. The first tiny prick. It’s subtle, buried under a sweet tone and an endearing nickname, but the jab lands perfectly. Arts degrees are flexible. Arts degrees are easy.

"They require a different kind of critical thought," you say smoothly, your eyes narrowing just a fraction. You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "We actually have to formulate original arguments instead of just memorising legal codes written by dead white men from the nineteenth century. It can be quite taxing."

Serena's smile tightens for a microsecond before smoothing out into a soft, airy laugh. "Oh, absolutely. I didn't mean to minimise it. It’s just... cute to see how hard you try. You’re always buried in these books, sprinting to catch up. It reminds me of myself when I was a first-year. So young, so inexperienced, just desperate to prove that you belong in a university setting."

"I'm a second year, actually."

"Oh." She reaches across the table, gently patting the back of your hand. Her touch is warm, but it feels like ice against your skin. "Don't stress yourself out to the point of a breakdown, Y/N. Jungkook's a very understanding guy. He knows you operate at a different academic level. He doesn't expect you to match his pace, and that’s perfectly okay."

Your heart hitches in your chest. He doesn't expect you to match his pace.

The words are delivered under the guise of elder-student comfort, a senior reassuring a stressed junior, but they carry a terrifyingly potent poison. Serena is stating out loud the exact nightmare that keeps you awake at night. She is confirming your deepest, darkest fear: that everyone looks at you and Jungkook and sees a brilliant, mature man babysitting a struggling, inferior child.

You pull your hand away from her touch, your fingers curling into tight fists under the table. Your defensive snark dries up in your throat, replaced by a sudden, choking wave of panic.

"I have to get back to work," you say, your voice dropping into a flat, cold register.

"Of course," Serena says easily, standing up and gathering her books. She offers you one last, beautiful but destructive smile. "Good luck with your little essay, Y/N. And tell Jungkook I'll see him at the mixer tonight, okay? Don't forget to take a breath."

She walks away, her heels clicking softly on the library's linoleum floor. You sit entirely frozen in your chair, staring at the blank laptop screen. You picked up on the bite in her words; you aren't stupid. You know she was throwing passive-aggressive shade. But instead of dismissing it as the petty jealousy of a rival student, you can't help but let the words sink into your skin. You don't dig into it immediately; you don't want to admit that she got to you. But as you open your laptop again and stare at the blinking cursor, Serena's voice echoes in your head, loud and clear, drowning out every original thought you had left: He doesn't expect you to match his pace.

The university’s Arts and Culture Alliance mixer is held in a historic courtyard on campus, illuminated by heavy iron lanterns and the warm glow of string lights woven through old ivy. It’s a joint gathering between a few departments and societies, an attempt to foster interdisciplinary collaboration. The air is alive with the chatter of students, the clinking of glasses filled with cheap wine, and the soft strains of a student jazz quartet playing in the corner.

For the first hour, everything is wonderful. Jungkook is by your side, his hand firmly locked with yours, completely ignoring the various law professors and senior debaters who keep trying to pull him into serious conversations. He is completely, utterly focused on you.

"Look at this," he whispers, leaning down to show you a small, terribly drawn caricature of his constitutional law professor he had sketched on a napkin while someone was giving an opening toast. "If I fail my finals, I’m joining the fine arts department. What do you think?"

You let out a genuine, bright laugh, the tension in your shoulders melting away. "It’s terrible, Kook. Truly. Please stick to the law. For the sake of visual arts everywhere."

"Harsh," he pouts, wrinkling his nose in that sweet way that completely contradicts his intimidating campus reputation. He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, entirely unbothered by the hundreds of people around them. "But I'll do whatever you say. You’re the boss."

You turn your head to kiss his cheek, a warm, fluttering feeling blooming in your chest. In moments like this, when his warmth is physical, and his laughter is loud in your ear, the doubts feel small. They feel like distant shadows.

"Jeon!"

The loud, commanding voice breaks your bubble. A senior professor from the Faculty of Law, a notoriously stern man who rarely speaks to undergraduates, is standing a few yards away, gesturing sharply for Jungkook to come over. Next to him stands a prominent local judge who had acted as an alumnus guest for the debate tournament.

Jungkook sighs, his grip on your waist loosening with visible reluctance. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with an apologetic, frustrated expression. "I’m sorry, sweetheart. Professor Kang has been trying to corner me all week about an internship placement. I need to quickly greet the judge. Will you be okay for five minutes?"

"Of course," you say, offering a reassuring smile. "Go. It’s important. I'll just grab another cider and wait by the fountain."

"I'll be right back. Five minutes, I promise," he says, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your lips before turning and walking away, his posture instantly shifting into that confident, professional demeanour as he approaches the elders.

You watch him go, your smile slowly fading as the cold night air fills the space he left behind. You walk over to the refreshment table, pouring yourself a plastic cup of cider, feeling suddenly very exposed without his large frame shielding you from the crowd.

"Left all alone so soon?"

You don't even need to turn around to know who it is. The voice is smooth, sweet, and entirely toxic.

Serena steps up beside you, holding a glass of white wine. She is dressed in an elegant silk blouse that perfectly matches the sophisticated atmosphere of the faculty guests. She looks down at your casual denim jacket, her expression one of gentle, masking pity.

"He’s just networking," you say, keeping your voice steady as you take a sip of your drink. "It’s part of his career."

"Oh, I know," Serena says, leaning against the table, her eyes tracking Jungkook across the courtyard. He is currently bowing politely to the judge, speaking with an elegant, mature eloquence that has both older men smiling in deep approval. "Jungkook’s a natural. He fits into that world seamlessly. It’s just a shame he has to constantly worry about leaving you behind in the corners while he does it."

Your grip tightens around the plastic cup, the plastic crinkling slightly under your fingers. "He doesn't worry about that."

"Are you sure?" Serena turns her head to look at you, her eyes sharp and predatory beneath her soft makeup. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks exhausting. He has to balance a high-profile academic career, a massive future in the legal field, and a girlfriend who looks like a lost freshman every time he steps away for five minutes."

She takes a slow sip of her wine, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial, whisper-soft tone that makes it sound like she’s sharing a painful truth for your own good. "Don't get me wrong, Y/N. It’s sweet that he loves you. But look at him over there. He belongs with the best. He needs someone who can stand beside him at these dinners, someone who can converse with judges and partners, someone who understands the weight of his world. Instead, he spends half his time checking his phone to make sure you aren't having an anxiety attack in the library. It’s... a bit of a burden, don't you think? You’re keeping him tethered to the ground when he could be soaring. I’m not saying it’s your fault or anything, but you do want what’s best for him… right?"

The words hit you like a series of physical blows to the chest. A burden. Keeping him tethered to the ground.

Your breath stutters. You want to snap back, you want to use the sharp, biting literature-major wit that usually protects you, but the terrifying truth is that her words align too perfectly with what you've been thinking this whole time. She isn't planting a new seed anymore; she’s watering a plant that has been growing in the dark corners of your mind for eighteen months.

Before you can force a response, a heavy, warm hand settles on the small of your back.

"Sorry I took so long," Jungkook’s voice cuts through the freezing air. He steps into your space, his presence an immediate shield. He nods politely to Serena, his tone completely professional but distinctly cool. "Serena. I didn't know you were over here."

"Just keeping your lovely girlfriend company," she says, her toxic edge vanishing instantly, replaced by a bright, friendly colleague smile. "We were just talking about how wonderful your debate performance was. I mean, it’s you, you’re always amazing.” He shyly chuckles at this, “Anyway, I should go greet Professor Lewis. See you both around."

She glides away, disappearing into the crowd of law students.

Jungkook immediately turns all his attention back to you, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his brows furrowed with deep concern. "Hey. Are you okay? Your hands are freezing, and you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did something happen? Did she say something to you?"

"No," you lie, your voice sounding small, distant, and hollow even to your own ears. You force a bright, synthetic smile onto your face, looking up at his perfect features. "No, she was just being nice. I’m just... the cold is hitting me, that’s all."

Jungkook doesn't look entirely convinced, his dark eyes searching yours with that desperate, analytical intensity, but he accepts the excuse, pulling you tightly against his chest, wrapping his coat around your shoulders. "Let’s go home. Forget the mixer. I’ve had enough of these people anyway. Let’s just go back to my place and lock the door."

You bury your face in his chest, nodding silently. He holds you so tightly, so sweetly, but as you walk out of the courtyard with his arm securely around your waist, you can't shake the freezing, terrifying chill in your bones. You look at his profile in the moonlight, and all you can think is: She’s right. I’m an anchor dragging him down. I’m the burden.

The rain taps a steady, rhythmic cadence against the glass of Jungkook’s bedroom window, blurring the green leaves of the campus trees into watercolour streaks of grey and emerald. Inside, the room is warm, smelling faintly of the cinnamon pastries he had sprinted out in the drizzle to buy you, and the rich, dark aroma of fresh espresso.

You are sitting at his wide oak desk, surrounded by your library books and your heavily annotated copy of Beowulf. Jungkook is sitting on the floor right beside your chair, his long legs stretched out, his back resting against the table leg. He has one hand resting casually on your thigh, his large thumb moving in slow, absentminded strokes over the denim of your jeans as he reads through a massive casebook on property law.

It’s a perfectly domestic afternoon. The kind of effortlessness that used to make your chest ache with pure happiness.

"Hey," Jungkook murmurs, not lifting his eyes from his text. His thumb continues its soothing, rhythmic sweep. "You haven't touched your pastry. It’s gonna get cold."

"I’m just reading, Kook," you say softly, keeping your eyes glued to a paragraph you've re-read three times but still have no idea what it says. "I'll eat it in a minute."

"Mhmm." He lets out a low, rumbling sound of agreement, but a moment later, he closes his heavy textbook with a soft thud. He shifts his weight, rising to his knees so he is suddenly level with you. Before you can blink, his large hands settle on your waist, and with that effortless, terrifying strength you love so much, he lifts you slightly and pulls you right out of the chair and down into his lap on the floor.

You let out a small, startled gasp, your books tumbling slightly onto the desk. "Jungkook!"

He just laughs, a bright sound that echoes warmly against your neck as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist from behind, locking you against his broad chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "You’ve been staring at that monster book for three hours straight. Look at me instead. I’ve been missing you."

"Jungkook, you're literally sitting right next to me," you giggle, though the sound no longer rings entirely true. It feels a bit hollow, a bit forced.

Inside your chest, the ghost of Serena's words from the mixer is clawing at your lungs. “He spends half his time checking his phone to make sure you aren't having an anxiety attack... You’re keeping him tethered to the ground.”

Jungkook leans forward, pressing a warm, lingering kiss right beneath your ear, his hands sliding up to cover yours, intertwining his long fingers with your smaller ones. "Doesn't matter. If you aren't looking at me, you're too far away." He squeezes your hands, his voice dropping into a soft, reflective register. "You know, sometimes I look at you sitting here in my room, and I think about how lucky I got. I wasted a whole year before I finally found my track and came to this university. If I hadn't taken that gap year, I wouldn't be here with you. The universe actually did something right for once."

He means it as a beautiful, romantic sentiment, a declaration that the timeline of his life aligned perfectly just to give him you.

But your brain, poisoned and hyper-vigilant, takes the beautiful sentiment and warps it into an ugly weapon.

Two years, the voice whispers. He’s two years older than you. That’s two extra years of maturity, of life experience, of academic dominance over you. He is a man who knows exactly who he is, and you are a shaking, insecure second year who can't even handle a single mixer without wanting to run away and smoke.

A sudden, suffocating wave of claustrophobia hits you. The warmth of his chest against your back suddenly feels less like a sanctuary and more like a beautifully constructed cage. The weight of his arms around your waist feels heavy, heavy with the burden you are convinced you are forcing him to carry.

Jungkook breathes out a soft sigh, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, sweet kiss. His lips are warm, soft, and taste faintly of the espresso he drank. It’s a kiss that demands nothing and offers everything.

But for the first time in eighteen months, you don't kiss him back with the same intensity. Your lips remain slightly stiff under his.

And then, you do it. You plant the very first seed of the distance that will eventually tear him apart.

You gently but firmly place your hands against his forearms, breaking the embrace. You slide off his lap, shifting back onto the hard hardwood floor, creating a deliberate foot of empty space between your bodies.

Jungkook blinks, his dark eyes widening in immediate, subtle surprise. His arms hover in the empty air for a split second before dropping to his thighs. "Y/N?"

"Sorry," you force a light, breezy tone out of your throat, avoiding his gaze by reaching up to shuffle the papers on the desk. "My... my leg was falling asleep. And I really need to finish this section before the library closes its digital archives for maintenance at four."

"Oh," Jungkook says softly. The word is tiny, carrying a faint, barely perceptible note of confusion and rejection. He looks at your profile, his sharp, analytical mind trying to calculate the sudden shift in your energy, but you keep your expression entirely neutral, buried in your notes. Finally, he offers a small, understanding smile and gently pats your knee. "Right. Sorry. Go ahead. I'll let you focus."

He pulls his casebook back toward himself, but he doesn't open it immediately. He sits quietly for a long moment, staring at his hands, a tiny, faint crease appearing between his brows.

Later that afternoon, after you have gathered your things and, despite his fierce protests, insist on walking back to your dorm alone because you "need the fresh air to clear your head," your phone buzzes four times in your pocket.

You pull it out as you cross the rainy quad.

Jungkook [15:42]: Text me the second you get to your room, sweetheart. Jungkook [15:42]: Miss you already :( Jungkook [15:43]: Eat the pastry I packed in your bag Jungkook [14:44]: Love you

Usually, you would reply instantly, sending a flurry of hearts and sweet messages back. But today, you stare at the glowing screen, Serena's voice ringing like tinnitus in your ears: “a burden.”

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. Your chest aches with a dull, throbbing agony. Slowly, deliberately, you press the lock button on the side of your phone, darkening the screen. You slide it deep into your pocket, leaving the notification unanswered, letting the silence begin its quiet, violent work.

The go-to campus fried chicken place is loud, greasy, and packed with students seeking a reprieve from the weekend midterms. You sit at a long wooden table in the corner, surrounded by a large group. It’s a rare, massive gathering, you, your two closest friends from the Literature faculty, Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, and, unfortunately, Serena, who had tagged along with Taehyung after a student council meeting.

The atmosphere is boisterous. Plates of spicy chicken and pitchers of draft beer cover the table. Jungkook is sitting next to you, his thigh pressed firmly against yours under the table, his hand occasionally dropping to squeeze your knee. He is currently engaged in a loud, passionate debate with Taehyung about a soccer match, his laughter booming across the table.

You try to participate, but your energy is entirely drained. You sit quietly, picking at a piece of radish, your eyes drifting across the table.

That’s when you notice it.

Serena is sitting diagonally from Jungkook. She isn't eating. She is leaning her chin on her palm, her eyes completely fixed on Jungkook’s face. She tracks every movement of his lips, every toss of his head when he laughs, her gaze filled with a quiet, intense longing that is impossible to mistake. It’s a look of profound, massive infatuation.

You feel a strange, dull ache in your chest. You don't feel immediate anger or jealousy; you just feel a profound sense of exhaustion. You look at her, brilliant, beautiful, sitting comfortably in Jungkook’s social circle, and then you look at yourself, hiding in his shadow.

A few minutes later, Jungkook stands up, excused by Jimin to go line up at the counter for another pitcher of beer. Taehyung accompanies him, leaving the rest of the table chatty. Your two literature friends get pulled into a deep conversation with Jimin about an upcoming campus festival, effectively isolating you and Serena on one side of the table.

Serena shifts, leaning closer to you over the restaurant's noisy chatter. She looks at your quiet demeanour, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

"You're very quiet tonight, Y/N," she says softly, her voice carrying that smooth, comforting older-sister cadence she always uses when she’s about to drop poison. "Still stressed about those essays?"

"Just tired," you say flatly, keeping your eyes on your cup.

She sighs, a soft, sympathetic sound. She looks over at the counter where Jungkook is standing, his broad back to the room, laughing as he ribs Taehyung. "It must be hard. Maintaining a relationship with someone like him when you’re dealing with your own insecurities."

You flinch slightly, your eyes snapping up to meet hers. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, don't be defensive," Serena says smoothly, waving her hand dismissively. "I’m actually just feeling a bit sorry for you. I know how it feels. I had a boyfriend exactly like Jungkook during my first year. Brilliant, popular, excelled at everything. He was my first serious boyfriend, too, just like Jungkook is yours, right?"

You don't answer, but the silence confirms it.

"Yeah, I thought so," she murmurs, her eyes darkening with a faux-nostalgic sadness. "Let me tell you a story, Y/N. From someone who has been exactly where you are. I used to think that as long as we loved each other, everything was fine. But the truth is... men are men at the end of the day. Especially guys like Jungkook. They have... needs. Physical needs, emotional needs, a need for a partner who, you know, can match their intensity. And when they’re with someone who’s constantly stressed, inexperienced, and hiding away... those needs get suppressed. They don't go anywhere; they just get bottled up."

She leans closer, her voice dropping into a sharp, venomous whisper that slices through the restaurant's loud music. "My ex used to act perfectly sweet to my face, just like Jungkook does. But behind closed doors? When he was out with his guy friends, drinking and letting off steam? He would complain constantly. He’d vent about how suffocated he felt, how he felt like he was babysitting an insecure little girl instead of having a real girlfriend, how he felt tied down by my guilt. It broke my heart, but it was the truth. High-achieving men will always resent the anchors that keep them from flying."

She tilts her head, her eyes boring into your pale face. "Look at him, Y/N. He’s twenty-three, a law star, a literal god on this campus. Do you honestly think he doesn't vent to Taehyung or Jimin when you shut down and fake being tired? Do you honestly believe he doesn't feel the weight of you? He’s just too polite, too loyal to say it to your face. But it’s rotting him from the inside out."

She doesn't stop there. "And I mean, you also deserve someone on your level. Think about how freeing it will be when you don't have to constantly catch up to someone."

The restaurant around you completely vanishes. The laughter, the clinking glasses, the smell of food, all of it dissolves into a cold, endless void. Serena's words wrap around your throat like a chokehold.

He complains about you to his friends. He feels suffocated. He feels tied down by your guilt.

Your chest heaves, a sudden, violent wave of nausea hitting you. You look over at the counter. Jungkook is walking back, holding a pitcher of beer, a massive, bright smile lighting up his face the moment his eyes find yours. He looks so pure, so incredibly perfect. But as he sits down beside you, his warm hand instantly finding your thigh, Serena's words echo like a death knell in your mind.

He’s just too polite to say it to your face.

You pull away from his touch just an inch, a subtle movement under the table, your entire body trembling with a sudden, catastrophic influx of self-doubt. You cannot help but overthink. Every laugh he shared with Taehyung tonight, every private whisper with Jimin, did it involve your failure? Were they pitying him? You look down at your lap, completely consumed by the quiet, violent rot of your own mind.

The silence of Jungkook’s apartment is thick, heavy, and dark. The only illumination comes from the faint amber glow of the city lights filtering through the large window, casting long, dramatic shadows across the hardwood floor.

You are sitting on the edge of his bed, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. Jungkook is standing directly in front of you. He has already discarded his jacket and blazer; his white button-down shirt is half-unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the intricate ink sprawling up his right arm.

He steps closer, his large hands coming up to gently cup your cheeks. His gaze is intense, dark, and heavy with a year and a half of unyielding devotion. "You’ve been so quiet all night," he whispers, his thumb tracing the sharp line of your cheekbone. "Talk to me. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

"Nothing," you whisper, the lie tasting like ash on your tongue. "Just... tired."

"Let me fix it," he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, breathless register. He leans down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is completely different from his usual gentle morning greetings. This is the kiss of a man who is deeply, passionately in love, intense, hungry, and heavily possessive.

He slides his hands from your face down to your shoulders, pushing the denim jacket off your arms until it drops to the floor. His lips leave yours, tracing a burning path down the column of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His large hands slide down to your waist, his grip tightening, pulling your body flush against his until there is absolutely no space left between you.

It’s how you usually make out, intense, passionate, a private language built over several months. His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, his fingers warm against the bare skin of your waist, his kisses becoming deeper, more desperate, as if he is trying to physically pull you into his soul to keep you from drifting away.

He loves you. You know he loves you. You want to match him- god, you want to melt into him and forget the entire world.

But suddenly, Serena's phantom voice explodes in your mind.

“Men have needs. You’re inexperienced. He complains about how suffocated he feels. You’re an anchor.”

The words flash like neon lights behind your closed eyelids. You freeze. Your hands, which had been tangled in the fabric of his shirt, go completely rigid. A sudden, terrifying wave of inadequacy floods your veins. You look at Jungkook, so beautiful, so experienced, so effortlessly perfect, and you look at yourself, a broken, trembling mess of secrets and lies. You feel entirely inadequate, a plain background character trying to play a role she isn't qualified for. If you give in, if you try to meet his needs, you’ll just fail. You’ll be awkward, clumsy, and a disappointment. He deserves a woman, not a struggling, insecure girl.

You panic.

You place your palms flat against his chest and push. It’s a sudden, frantic movement.

Jungkook jolts, his body resisting for a fraction of a second because his grip around your waist is so naturally strong, but the moment he registers your resistance, he instantly pulls back. He steps away, his chest heaving, his lips flushed red, his dark eyes wide with immediate confusion and alarm.

"Y/N?" his voice is breathless, slightly raspy. "What’s wrong? Did I... did I hurt you?"

"No," you choke out, wrapping your arms tightly around your own torso, shielding yourself from his gaze. You can't look him in the eye. The guilt is suffocating. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I’m just... I’m just really tired, Jungkook. My head hurts. I can't tonight."

It’s a blatant, terrible fake. Your voice is shaking, and your eyes are wild with unshed tears.

Jungkook stares at you for a long, agonising moment. You wait for the flash of hurt, frustration, annoyance, anger, even. But it doesn't come. Instead, you're met with overwhelming sweetness. The alarm in his eyes melts into a look of profound, gentle care. And for some reason you can't put into words, that hurts more.

"Hey," he says softly, stepping back to the edge of the bed and sitting down beside you. He doesn't try to touch your waist again; instead, he gently reaches out and captures your hand, his large fingers intertwining with yours, squeezing softly. "Don't look like that. You don't ever have to apologise. You don't owe me anything, Y/N."

He leans over, pressing a soft, lingering, profoundly sweet kiss to your temple. "Don't worry about it, okay? Come here."

He shifts, pulling the heavy duvet back and guiding your body down until you are lying against his chest. He wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you securely into his warmth, his chin resting on the top of your head. He reaches over to grab the remote, turning on a random movie at a low volume, his hand coming down to stroke your hair in a slow, rhythmic, soothing pattern.

He is being perfect. He is being the most understanding, loving, incredible boyfriend anyone could ask for.

And it makes you feel a hundred times worse.

As you lie there against the steady, calm heartbeat in his chest, staring blankly at the television screen, tears fill your eyes, but you will not let them fall. You can't burden him with this, too.

Every sweet stroke of his hand through your hair feels like a hot iron against your skin. You are a parasite. You are starving him of the intimacy he deserves, forcing him to suppress his needs because you are too broken to handle his love. The overthinking morphs into a monstrous, absolute certainty: He is going to leave you. And he should.

The humanities square is bathed in the harsh, blinding sunlight of a Tuesday afternoon, but your world has gone entirely grey.

You are walking back from a meeting with your academic advisor, a meeting where she gently informed you that your latest essay draft lacked its usual depth, a polite way of saying you were failing to meet your potential. Your fingers are shoved deep into your pockets, your head low, your throat burning with the desperate craving for a cigarette.

You turn the corner by the law faculty building, intending to take the long cut back to your dorm, when your boots freeze against the concrete.

There, on the wide stone steps of the law school, are Jungkook and Serena.

They are standing close together under the shade of a large oak tree. Serena is holding a folder of debate briefs, pointing to something on a page, her face bright and animated. Jungkook is looking down at the paper, a wide, genuine, beautiful laugh breaking across his face. He says something, tossing his head back, and Serena joins in the laughter, her hand lightly, casually touching his forearm for a brief, familiar second.

They look perfect. They look like a matching set. Two star students, two impeccable minds, standing together in the sunlight where they belong.

The sight hits you like a physical car crash. Every single word Serena had ever whispered to you: “He complains about you... he feels suffocated... he belongs with the elite” just solidifies into a concrete, absolute reality. Your brain goes into a catastrophic, violent overdrive of overthinking. You don't see a boyfriend sharing a casual academic laugh with a colleague; you see a man finding the joy, the intellect, and the compatibility that you have been starving him of for months. You see the inevitable future unfolding right in front of your eyes.

A sudden, violent wave of panic claws at your throat. You stumble backwards, turning on your heel, and sprint away before they can look up and see you standing there like a pathetic ghost.

The next five days are an agonising blur of isolation and self-destruction.

The panic inside you grows into a living, breathing monster. You begin to actively, systematically distance yourself from Jungkook. When he texts you in the morning, you wait three hours to reply, claiming you are trapped in a mandatory library workshop. When he shows up outside your lecture hall, you slip out through the back fire exit and hide in the basement bathrooms until his tall frame disappears from the square. You invent a never-ending cycle of group projects, late-night research seminars, and sudden academic emergencies just to avoid being in his presence. You push him away with a frantic, desperate intensity, convinced that if you don't cut the cord yourself, the pain of him doing it will kill you.

And your coping mechanism escalates.

The crumpled packs of cigarettes are no longer enough to numb the roaring, deafening noise of your inferiority complex. The simple tobacco doesn't quiet the thoughts anymore. You slip out to a shady alleyway behind the off-campus convenience store, purchasing a small plastic bag of joints from a computer science senior who smuggles them in.

Every night, when the clock strikes twelve, you lock yourself on the high fire escape of your building. Your hands shake to the point where you can barely spark the lighter. You press the rolled joint to your lips and inhale deeply, the heavy, pungent smoke filling your lungs, dragging the THC into your bloodstream. You smoke until your eyes burn red, until your chest feels like it’s on fire, until your brain finally, mercifully goes completely numb, allowing you to slump against the cold brick wall and forget, for just an hour, that you are the worst thing to ever happen to Jeon Jungkook.

From the moment the clock strikes midnight on the seventh day of the silence, the world shifts into a stark, cold reality. Jungkook stares at his phone screen, the bright light illuminating the deep circles beneath his eyes.

He is sitting on the floor of his living room, his back against the sofa, surrounded by legal briefs he hasn't read in days. His hair is unwashed, messy, falling into his eyes, and his crisp white shirt is wrinkled and unbuttoned. He looks entirely unravelled. The star law student, the golden boy of the university, has completely vanished, replaced by a man who looks as though he is physically starving.

He scrolls through the text thread.

“Still at the library, Kook. Group project is running late. Don't wait up.” “Got a big seminar tomorrow, going to sleep early. See you.” “Too much reading to do today, sorry. Have lunch without me.”

Cold, polite, distant sentences. For a week, you have been a ghost. He has shown up at your faculty building, stood outside your lecture halls, called your phone until his battery died, only to be met with a brick wall of vague excuses.

Jungkook lets out a ragged, shallow breath, his chest tightening until it feels like his ribs are going to crack. A terrifying, clawing panic has been living in his throat for seven days. He doesn't understand. He has spent every second of the last week replaying every moment of the last year and a half in his head, going over what he did wrong. Did he push too hard during that last kiss? Did he make you feel uncomfortable? Did he say something to you that he can't remember? Did someone else say something? Did someone hurt you? Are you bored with him? Do you not love him anymore?

The thoughts are torture. To Jungkook, you aren't just a girlfriend; you're his anchor. The quiet, beautiful sanctuary he runs to when the pressure of being "perfect" for the rest of the world threatens to crush him. You are the only person who looks at him and sees Jungkook, not the golden boy. And now you are drifting away, pulling up the anchor, leaving him to drown in a stormy, empty ocean.

"I can't do this anymore," he whispers to the empty room, his voice cracking, thick with an unshed, agonising grief.

He stands up, his movements sudden, frantic, and entirely desperate. He doesn't grab a coat, he doesn't care that it’s raining outside, he doesn't care that it’s nearly one in the morning. He grabs his keys and storms out of his dorm, his heart hammering a violent, terrifying rhythm against his ribs. He is going to you. He is going to force his way into your space. He doesn't care if you hate him for it. He cannot survive another hour of this silence.

The heavy door of your dorm room doesn't just rattle; it shakes on its hinges under the force of the sudden, aggressive pounding.

You bolt upright on your small bed, your heart leaping into your throat. You are wrapped in a faded blanket, your eyes heavy and dilated from the joint you finished just twenty minutes ago, the room still faintly smelling of a heavy, herbal sweetness you tried to clear by cracking the window.

"Y/N! Open the door!"

The voice through the wood is a raw, ragged shout. It’s Jungkook. But it doesn't sound like him; it sounds like a man who is being torn apart alive.

Before you can even move, the handle rattles violently, and because the cheap dorm lock tends to slip under enough pressure (and you always forget to add that additional lock Jungkook talks about), the door bursts inward with a loud, echoing slam.

Jungkook stumbles into your room.

You gasp, backing up against your headboard, your eyes widening. He looks entirely unravelled. His clothes are damp from the rain; his dark hair plastered to his forehead. His face is pale, his lips are trembling, and his eyes are violently bloodshot, wide with a frantic, wild look that terrifies you. His breath comes in short, shallow, ragged gasps, his broad chest heaving as if he had run a marathon just to reach your door. He looks physically, visibly terrified.

"J-Jungkook?" your voice cracks, small and trembling.

He slams the door shut behind him and closes the distance between you in two massive strides. He drops to his knees right at the edge of your mattress, his large hands reaching out to grab your hands with a grip that is unyielding, desperate, and trembling violently.

"Please, Y/N. Why are you doing this to me?" he cries out, the sound a raw, agonising sob that tears from his throat. Tears are streaming openly down his face, hot and rapid, carving tracks through the dampness of his skin. He drops his head to rest on his hands, which are enveloping yours. "What did I do? Please, Y/N, tell me what I did wrong! Did I hurt you? Am I not enough? D-do you... Do you not love me anymore? Are you breaking up with me?"

His voice cracks on the last few words, a pathetic, broken sound. He is begging. The perfect boy everyone loves is on his knees at your feet, completely shattered, weeping like a child because he thinks he has lost you.

"No, Jungkook, no-" you try to speak, your own tears spilling over instantly, but your voice is choked by the sheer, overwhelming weight of the scene.

Jungkook lifts his head, his wild, frantic eyes scan your face, searching for answers, but as he pulls closer, his head jerks to the side. His gaze lands directly on your small bedside table.

There, sitting out in the open, is a heavy ceramic ashtray. It is packed to the brim with crumpled cigarette butts and the unmistakable, charred remains of two half-smoked joints.

The room is silent save for his shallow, ragged breathing. Jungkook freezes. The world seems to stop spinning. He stares at the ashtray for a long, painful five seconds, his expression shifting from terror into a look of profound, absolute confusion and betrayal.

He slowly lifts his eyes back to yours, his voice dropping into a hollow, trembling whisper. "What... what is that?"

You can't breathe. The guilt collapses on top of you like a fallen building. "Jungkook..."

"You said you quit," he whispers, a fresh wave of tears spilling from his bloodshot eyes. He lets go of your hands, rocking back to rest on his heels, placing a little distance between the two of you. His hands shake as he gestures to the ashtray. "We made a pact that night. I stayed clean because... because I wanted to be better for you. And you’ve been... you’ve been hiding this? You’ve been smoking this entire time? Behind my back? Lying to me?"

"I’m sorry," you sob, going to reach for him, to ground yourself. "I’m sorry, Jungkook, I’m so sorry-"

"Why?!" he suddenly screams. It’s a loud, messy roar that bounces off the small concrete walls of your room. He stands up, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his hands gripping his hair. "Why would you lie to me about this? Why did you shut me out for a whole week because of this? You think I care about the cigarettes? I don’t.” He pauses. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking for seven days? I thought you hated me! I thought I did something terrible to you! I’ve been losing my fucking mind!"

The dam inside you finally, catastrophically breaks. The months of suppressed agony, the poison whispered by Serena, the choking weight of your own inferiority complex, all of it explodes out of your throat in a raw, defensive scream.

"Because I’m a burden to you, Jungkook!" you shriek, standing up on the bed, looking down at him with a face distorted by tears and raw, ugly agony. "I hide it because I’m drowning! I smoke because it’s the only thing that stops my brain from screaming at me about how much I don't deserve you! Look at you! You’re perfect! You excel at everything: law, sports, music, theatre. Everyone on this campus looks at you like a god! And look at me! I’m a plain, failing literature major who can't even string a coherent essay together without having a panic attack!"

Jungkook stops pacing, his hands dropping to his sides, his eyes wide with utter shock as he stares at you.

"I’m dragging you down!" you scream, the words tearing your throat raw. "You spend half your time babysitting my insecurities, checking your phone to make sure your pathetic girlfriend hasn't collapsed in a corner, when you should be soaring! You have physical needs, emotional needs, a life that belongs at the top, and I’m keeping them suppressed because I’m too inexperienced, too broken, too much of a little girl to match your pace! You’re just too polite and too loyal to admit it to my face, but you must be so suffocated! You probably vent to Taehyung and Jimin about how tied down you feel by my guilt! You should just be with someone on your level! You should just be with Serena! She matches you! She belongs in your world! I don't!"

The room goes dead, terrifyingly silent. Your breathing is a harsh, ragged wheeze, your chest heaving, your face soaked in tears as you stand there, entirely exposed, having finally laid bare the entire ugly, rotting interior of your soul.

Jungkook doesn't speak. For a few seconds, which feels like hours, he just stands there. His face goes completely blank, his eyes darkening into an expression of sheer, unadulterated, dangerous snap.

He snaps.

In a fraction of a second, he closes the distance. He reaches up, his large, incredibly strong hands wrapping around your waist, and physically rips you off the mattress, slamming your back against the hard concrete wall of the dorm room.

You let out a sharp gasp, but before the air can even leave your lungs, Jungkook crashes his mouth down onto yours.

It is not a sweet kiss. It is a violent, breathless, completely desperate collision. He kisses you with an intense, terrifying fury, his lips crushing yours until you can barely breathe. It is a kiss meant to completely obliterate your words, to silence the catastrophic doubts in your head by sheer physical force. You try to push him away, your hands coming up to hit his shoulders, but Jungkook is too strong, his broad chest pressing firmly against yours, pinning you to the wall, his arms locking around you like iron bands. He consumes you, tasting like rain and raw passion, refusing to let you go until your resistance melts away and you are forced to cling to his neck just to stay upright.

He pulls back just a millimetre, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in hot, ragged gasps against your lips. His grip on your waist is so tight it almost bruises.

"Don't you dare," he whispers, his voice a low, terrifyingly angry register that vibrates against your teeth. "Don't you ever say that to me again. I am so fucking angry at you right now, Y/N. I’m furious."

Tears are still spilling from his eyes, burning against your skin. "You let some petty bitch like Serena plant those disgusting lies in your head? You listened to her instead of looking at me? You honestly thought I was complaining about you? You thought I wanted perfection?!"

His voice breaks, the anger instantly melting away, replaced by a profound intimacy that rolls between your bodies like a wave. His grip on your waist softens, his large hands shifting to cup your face with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

"I don't give a shit about the law faculty," he chokes out, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks. "I don't give a shit about the professors, or the judges, or being perfect. Do you want to know why I try so hard at everything, Y/N? Do you want to know why I sprint through my life? Because I am so terrified that I’m not enough for you. Because you are the most brilliant, beautiful soul I have ever met. Every time you talk about literature, every time you look at the world with those kind eyes, I feel like a stupid, clumsy caveman trying to understand a star. I don't want someone on my level. I want you."

He lets out a long, broken sob, and suddenly, his strength leaves him.

Jungkook falls to his knees.

He slides down your body until he is kneeling on the cold floor at your feet. He wraps his long, strong arms tightly around your waist, burying his face completely into the soft fabric of your sweater at your stomach. He clings to you as if he were a shipwrecked sailor holding onto the last piece of timber in a storm. His entire frame shudders with violent, heavy sobs.

"Please," he begs, his voice cracking, entirely muffled against your stomach, sounding small, raw, and utterly desperate. "Please, Y/N... never cut me off like that again. Don't ever hide from me. If you’re drowning, let me drown with you. If you need to smoke, let me hold the lighter for you. Just don't shut the door on me. I can't survive a world where I can't see you."

He holds your waist tighter, his face burying deeper into your skin. "All you have to do is talk to me when times get tough. I don't want perfection. I don't want a trophy girlfriend. I just want my Y/N. I just want you."

You stand there, frozen against the wall, looking down at the back of his dark, damp hair, his broad shoulders shaking with his love for you. The toxic, jagged mirror Serena had built shatters into a million harmless pieces, dissolved by the raw, unyielding reality of his obsession. You slowly slide down the wall so you're directly in front of him. You bring your hands up to cup his face. You wipe a few of the tears from his cheeks and lean into him. He immediately accepts you, wrapping his own arms around you, one holding your head to him, the other around your lower back. He holds you tight. Like he's scared to let go.

"We do this together." He mumbles into your hair. "Okay?" He whispers.

You nod. Lifting your head to meet him with another kiss. One that speaks far more than words ever could.

@willowpains @hellomate1234 @starlight-1010 @knhlotus @thefireintheshadow

[trivia-yandere]

Can I request something? Where Jungkook is reader's son's best friend. And Jungkook is utterly obsessed with his friend's mother?

you know what, hell yeah why not?? kinda like mommy issues jungkook but more unhinged

m.i.l.f

"there are HOT MILFS in your area waiting for YOU to FUCK THEM!" the ad said, though jungkook wasn't expecting to come face to face with you; who also happens to be his best friends mother. @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @chimmy-licious @momnomnom @investedreader

part 2

word count: 4.338

warning: age up reader, smut, dirty talk, jungkook likes milfs ofc, yandere tendancies, blackmail, mommy kink omg, fingering, oral sex, nipple sucking, reader also enjoys being called mommy wtf, praise kink, dub-con, dry humping, titty, fucking, jungkook likes to be called a good boy lmao, squirting, orgasm, unprotected sex, ass-slapping, masterbation, impregnation kink,

“You don’t have to wash those, Jungkook.” you say as you walk into the kitchen. Your brows furrowed at Jungkook, who was a guest in your home at that, “That’s what my son should be doing.” you let out a snort. “And you’re also a guest!”

Jungkook turns towards you and offers a curt smile. “I don’t mind, really.” he says honestly. “It’s the least I can do as a thank you for allowing me to stay for break.”

Spring break was only 2 weeks and Jungkook had no intentions of going back home for a short amount of time. He settled into his college life greatly and the years he’s attended, he can say it has been a wild ride. Meeting your son, his best friend, and also his roommate was one.

“Besides, Dash isn’t here. He said he had some type of date.”

Dash wasn’t your son's real name, but a nickname given to him while in High School that stuck all the way through college. Upon hearing Jungkook’s words you let out a soft sigh and a shake of your head. It seemed as Dash couldn’t be bothered to hang out with his friend that he invited over for Spring break.

“Still, no washing dishes!” you say, going over to turn the water off with a stern look. “You’re still a guest in our home, Jungkook. I ordered pizza thinking you and Dash would be here.”

Jungkook recalls the first time he met you many years ago. It was move-in day and you’ve made it your mission to clean the bedroom and shared bathroom from top to bottom until it was sparkling. 

What Jungkook had immediately noticed - after the newly decorated bedroom with a large television, a mini fridge in the corner already full of snacks that you encouraged him to take - was how young you were. At first glance, he thought you were Dash’s older sister until you kissed his forehead, an action he groaned about.

“She was a teen mom.” Dash explained without Jungkook having to ask. He did that a lot throughout his life, even now. “Apparently she wants me to have what she didn’t.”

You were genuinely kind and always managed to include Jungkook in whatever. At times, even, Jungkook would grow annoyed with how Dash always appeared to blow you off to do whatever else and yet, you wouldn’t be angered or upset. Maybe it was because Dash was your only child that you grew up alongside.

Jungkook dries his hands with a few paper towels as you wipe the counters of any spilled water. He takes in your attire. It’s evening, but you’re already dressed for bed, a silk nightgown that stops at your thighs with a matching silk robe tied lazily around your figure. He knows you aren’t dressed to sleep - you stay up during the night and binge watch tv or read.

“Are you taking any shifts at the studio this week?” you ask to make conversation. “I know Dash said you and him switched shifts. That boy…” you let out a sigh. “...don’t let him play you, Jungkook!”

“I’m not.” Jungkook cracks a grin. “I can use the extra hours.” A lie.

“Aren’t you already interning, as well? When do you sleep?”

Your concerned mother act was activated now and Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. He sniffles a bit, turning his eyes away. 

“Well, it’s just you and me until Dash decides to come home.” you state. “The pizza should be here in around half an hour. Do you have anything planned for tonight?”

Jungkook’s eyes cut to you. You’re taken back a bit by the sudden stare that your smile falters for a mere moment. Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at Jungkook.

“Jung-”

“Do you have anything planned?” Jungkook questions. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s leaning only slightly against the counter. “With…anyone?”

You swallow underneath his hard gaze. The tone changes entirely and you’re far too appalled to answer his question.

“I don’t…I-I-” you shake your head a bit, flustered. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook tilts his head. He gives you another once over before meeting your eyes once more.  “Can I show you something?”

You blink a few times before nodding your head.

Jungkook goes through his pants pockets and takes out his phone. It takes him a minute to find what he does, but when he flashes the screen towards you, your face goes pale. Your heart thumps in your chest and you swear your blood is growing warmer and warmer with embarrassment.

It’s you, of course, and you know exactly what it is.

‘Hot Milf’s Near You’ it says, a picture of your naked body on display. It’s your own account and with the amount of detail that’s displayed, you already know he’s gone through it entirely.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes. You didn’t want this to ever come to light. The site was legit, but not well known enough for anyone you know to find it. There’s countless other sites that you avoided due to their popularity.

“Jungkook-”

“Is this a casual hookup site?” Jungkook interrupts. 

Jungkook had never heard of the site until a few weeks back. He had been watching porn when the usually pop-up site came up. He’s never bothered to click the “hot milfs in your area that wants to fuck you” before but this time he was curious to see if it was even real. He wasn’t expecting to go down a rabbit hole of profiles - you being one of them.

“Yes.” your teeth grits. This conversation you truly didn’t want to have with Jungkook. 

“You hookup with…younger guys?” Jungkook locks his phone and places it on the counter. 

Your heart races and your eyes widen. “I-I..they’re not all young!”  you stammer. You didn’t need Jungkook thinking you were some cougar who wanted younger guys. “I just-”

Jungkook knows they aren't all young - he's done his thorough research as soon as he found your profile.

“Your profile says you want someone who could satisfy you.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to make this easy on you, yet you’re unsure why you haven’t walked away yet. This wasn’t his business. You were a grown woman who wasn’t doing anything wrong and-

“I want to be the one to satisfy you.”

Oh.

You’re entirely still, unblinking. Your breathing even hitches and you’re truly astonished. The only reason you’re brought back down to reality was when Jungkook steps closer to you, making an entirely bold move that jolts you back to life.

“I do like you as my friend's mother.” 

Jungkook’s hand presses itself right between your legs, the night-gown giving him perfect access to your clothed pussy. You gasp at the boldness he displays. This was the same shy and soft spoken boy you met at the age of 18. Only, he wasn’t 18 anymore and Dash and him were nearly out of college. He was a man now in his 20’s and fully aware of what he wanted. 

“And I do respect you as such but…”

Jungkook licks his lips, his fingers twirling around your clothed clit.

“...I can tell you want to keep this profile a secret. You don’t want Dash to know you enjoy getting fucked by young guys, right?” Jungkook’s finger picks up the pace and your teeth sink down on your bottom lip. Why haven’t you pushed him away yet?

“I don’t think he’d be happy to find out that his mother’s a whore.” Jungkook cups your pussy entirely, licking his lips as his dark eyes look towards you. It’s as if a switch flipped and he was someone else. A darker person. His eyes aren’t the doe ones you adored, but appeared of that of a siren. “I can keep that secret for you…for a price, of course.”

Jungkook was blackmailing you.

Your son’s friend was blackmailing you - the same kind hearted friend you encourage your son to be like.

Why did the action make your pussy throb with such need you never knew you had for him?

“Let’s see…”

Jungkook’s hand digs into your panties. His fingers slide between your holds and twirls along your clit. A surprised yelp escapes your lips as his fingers immediately work. He isn’t being mindful in the slightest, digits aggressively attacking the sensitive bud.

Your mouth falls open in surprise, but you’re unable to contain the moan. Your pussy is leaking in his palms and you’re standing like an idiot and allowing him to.

“Let’s see how tight you are.”

Jungkook’s free hand grasps your ass to keep you in place while his occupied fingers begin to invade your walls. Your hands grasp Jungkook’s shirt for support as his fingers pump into you possessively. The crude act has you squealing with hot embarrassment at something so forbidden. Your son could return any minute now and yet…

“You’re pussy’s so wet, mommy.”

If being called mommy bothered you, you didn’t show it. If anything, your pussy immediately goes to clench around Jungkook’s fingers. It’s a sign that he knows what he’s doing, you’re enjoying more than you want to admit.

“You like being called mommy, don’t you?” Jungkook hums, drilling his fingers even harder into  you. “You’re drenched right now, mommy.”

“Jung…Kook,” you stammer, clenching his shirt even tighter. What in the world were you allowing him to do? This was wrong in many ways and-

Jungkook removes his fingers from your pussy and brings them to his lips. He sucks onto them, dark lustful eyes on you. 

“Jungkook…we…I don’t think…”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Jungkook murmurs. “Besides, you don’t really want me to stop, mommy. You’re not fighting me at all.”

Jungkook goes towards your breast next. His hands are quick in snatching the gown down to reveal erect nipples. He groans at the sight of them, mouth watering. He dives right to them, wrapping his mouth around one nipple with his hand twists the other. “I’ve wanted to suck on them for so long, mommy.” As long as he can remember, he thinks, maybe even back when he first witnessed you naked and cumming against your vibrator.

You don’t know that he watched you, though - and he won’t tell you.

“Y-Yeah?”

You mentally curse yourself for entertaining this, but Jungkook wasn’t making it easy. He was an attractive man who quite literally wasn’t going to take no for an answer - and you had yet to push him away from you. 

But this was sick - right? Jungkook was your son's best friend and roommate. You’ve known him since he was fresh out of highschool and into college. Hell, you even washed his clothes a few times alongside Dash’s but yet…

A sick satisfaction goes through you as Jungkook holds you close and suckles onto your breast, one that you were going to regret feeling once this was all over.

A hand placed behind Jungkook's head, fingers tangling in his dark tresses. Jungkook looks up at you, for a moment those familiar doe-like eyes make their appearance.

“You can suck on them now, Kookie.” you say in a soft voice that has Jungkook sucking even harder, his other hand squeezing your free breast. “I-I won’t stop you.”

This was wrong. You shouldn’t be entertaining this - obviously Jungkook was a man with his own issues but yet, here you were. With your own issues that you were allowing it to unfold.

“Thank you, mommy.” Jungkook says as he dives to the other breast and captures your nipple. 

You ponder if you were a perverse person for enjoying this with Jungkook. He made it very clear that he had no true intentions of stopping but there’s that sick side of you that didn’t want him to regardless. 

Your body is pushed against the kitchen island until you’re hoisted up onto it, back against the cold surface. Jungkook's large hands engulfs both of your breasts, coming up from your breast to place a kiss against your lips. You yelp at the action, but can you truly be surprised? 

Jungkook doesn’t dwell on your lips, however. He goes back to your breast, suckling and tugging your perky nipples while his hands continue to rub and squeeze.

Jungkook’s cock is hard and he presses it right against your clothed clit, hips jutting as he continues to suckle onto your nipples.

You cannot help but moan, your hand rubbing Jungkook’s head encouragingly. “You love to suck mommy’s breast, don’t you?”

Jungkook’s breathing hitches, his eyes flickering to yours. He nods hastily, suckling even harder. His hips continue to jut, rubbing against your clit so heavenly that you can feel just how soaked you were becoming. 

Jungkook continues to suck harder and harder, his mind wandering to the countless times his mouth would salivate at just the thought of doing this. Especially after finding your profile with dozens of naked pictures of yourself. He recalls the time he jacked off to your breast alone, cumming all over himself at the thought of suckling on them like he was doing now.

“Mommy,” Jungkook lets your nipple out with a pop, a string of saliva dripping from his lips. “can I fuck your tits?”

Your eyes widened, your clit growing even wetter.

“Not here.” you say to Jungkook. You were going to regret this, surely, when you came back to your senses. 

Leading Jungkook to your bedroom was all too surreal. But dropping yourself to your bed while the man removes his pants is far too real. His cock springs out, pretty, veiny and pink. It’s dripping with pre-cum already and you almost coo at how cute he looks.

You lay on the edge of your bed, breast pressed together. “Don’t be shy now, Kookie.”

Jungkook gasps low, stepping forward so that he can place his cock against your breast. But before he can, your hand wraps around it and you bring him into your mouth.

Jungkook shudders at how wet and warm your mouth is as you suckle onto his cock. It blows his mind and he finds that he never wants this to end.

You pop Jungkook’s cock from your mouth and lick your lips. “You can fuck mommy’s tits now.” you hum.

“Y-Yes, mommy.” Jungkook’s cheeks are red as he obeys you. He presses his cock right between your breasts and you press them together. 

“Can as hard as you want, okay?” you smile sweetly.

Jungkook complies, immediately rutting his hips. You never would’ve thought that you would find this hot - or maybe it was Jungkook. Younger men had more stamina and Jungkook doesn’t seem to be tired anytime soon.

Jungkook’s thumbs twist at your nipples as he fucks your tits, a groan coming from his lips. “You’re so hot, mommy. I wanted you for so long.”

Your eyes watch the way Jungkook’s cock slides between your breasts with such need, your pussy clenching around nothing. Your already crude mind is pondering how good he’d be able to fuck you with such stamina and strength that you cannot help but squeal.

“You like me fucking your tits, mommy?” Jungkook asks, chuckling a bit. “Or are you thinking about me fucking something else?”

Jungkook was co complex. One instant he could be so vulnerable and soft eyed and then there’s the switch. His voice would deepen, his eyes darken and he would speak like he was now.

Jungkook’s right hand lifts from your nipples to connect with your neck. He tightens it, continuing to pump his wet cock between your breasts. 

“I think you like the way I’m fucking your tits, mommy. You’re so slutty.” Jungkook sing-song such dirty words. “From now on, you don’t need to find anyone else to fuck you, okay? I’m all you need, mommy.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to think about you going elsewhere - to someone his age. They didn’t deserve to fuck you. They didn’t put in the work like he had  with making a great impression and getting you to like him.

“All for you, Kookie.” you nod your head the best way you could with his hand around your neck. “Are you going to cum for mommy?”

Jungkook shudders and rapidly nods his head. His hand tightens around your neck, your moans increasing as does his. He juts his cock between your breast back and forth and back and forth and-

“Fuck, mommy, I’m gonna cum all over you.” Jungkook’s body shakes, releasing a sputter of swear words.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over mommy’s tits like a good boy.”

There was no way you and Jungkook were going back to normal after this - not after he’s called you mommy and you called him a good boy.

Jungkook cums all over your breast, cum going as far as to splatter across your cheeks. 

Jungkook sighs, eyes fluttering with how hard he’s cum. He always cum the hardest when it comes to you, and now it’s because of you and not your pictures.

“I’m going to make you cum next, mommy!”

You don’t have time to process because Jungkook’s already on his knees and bringing you closer to him. Your panties are ripped from your core and Jungkook’s already face to face with it. 

Jungkook enjoys eating you out; genuinely. His tongue licks between your folds generously, moaning and groaning against your cunt without coming up for air. He’s completely insatiable when it comes to you, never wanting to tear himself away.

“Kookie…slow down!” you gasp, hands grasping your breast.

Jungkook ignores you entirely, continuing to suckle onto your clit. You watch him with wide eyes, completely in awe. You aren’t sure you’ve ever had anyone eat you with such necessity like Jungkook was.

Jungkook’s head begins to bob back and forth, his hand reaching up towards your hole. You’re wet enough that he slides in three fingers, pumping them in and out feverishly.

You’re squealing loudly with each pump of Jungkook’s fingers, unsure if you were going to last with both his tongue and fingers. Your eyes squeeze shut, breath catching in your throat. He was truly a man starved, determined to have you cum by any means necessary.

The more Jungkook’s long fingers fuck you, the more your mind becomes fuzzy. 

Jungkook is astonished by how wet you are, juices leaking all over his lips and palm. He ponders just how long it’s been since you’ve been doted on. When was the last time someone ate your pussy like their last meal?

No longer would you have to wait, Jungkook thinks, as he was going to be the only one you’d go to for now. He leans away from your pussy to admire the way you grip his fingers. He drills them deeper and harder, arousal squirting out of you rapidly.

“You’re cumming, aren’t you, mommy?” Jungkook laughs, yet doesn’t stop his pumping. “Your pussy’s making such a mess…I think you are.”

Your hips buckle a bit to move away, but Jungkook’s free hand goes to push you down. With more force, he drills his fingers until he is nearly palms deep into your pussy.  Your walls clench and squeeze and Jungkook does nothing but force his way in deeper and deeper, scraping against your wet walls.

“Kookie, I-I,” you groan, cutting yourself off as you feel yourself let go around him, your thighs shaking with pleasure and overstimulation.

Jungkook marvels at your wet pussy, soaking the sheets and him entirely. He removes his fingers just as you’re cumming, juices pouring out messily.

Your head crashes against the bed, cotton sheets greeting you. You’re attempting to gather your breathing and stop your shaking thighs.

“You must be so tired, mommy.” Jungkook hums above you. “A man hasn’t satisfied you in so long, huh? Even whatever young one you brought home through that profile.”

Jungkook removes his shirt and throws it aside. He had every intention of fucking you until you were begging him to stop - surely that’s what you wanted.

“Kook,” you begin, eyes fluttering open.

Your eyes squint at Jungkook’s naked form between your legs. Has he always had so many tattoos? You recall him and Dash getting one together a few months back but surely his entire arm couldn’t have been that.

“I want you to cum around my cock next, mommy.” Jungkook grasps your legs and forces them apart. 

“Kook! Wait!”

Your hand reaches out to touch his chest and stop him. Jungkook blinks at you, tilting his head almost innocently.

“You need a condom.” you say, body warming with heat because you weren’t going to tell him to not fuck you like you should, but to wear protection.

Jungkook cracks a smile. “No I don’t.” he insists. “You’re only going to be fucking me from now  on anyways.”

Jungkook grazes his tips between your folds teasingly.

“And if I find out you allowed anyone else to fuck you, mommy, I’ll just show everyone how much of a slut you are. Everyone would see those pictures and know you like to get fucked by men your sons age.”

Jungkook speaks with such softness in his voice that it makes his words even more sinister. You’re stuck, unable to respond and Jungkook takes it upon himself to enter you with one, quick movement.

“You’re so tight, mommy. So tight and wet.”

Jungkook’s hip rock, his cock jamming in and out of you at an alarming pace. Your mouth opens to let out a shocked yelp. He forces your legs apart until your knees are to your shoulders, allowing him deeper access to your cunt.

“Kookie, s-slow down,” your eyes flutter as you attempt to speak to Jungkook.

“No, mommy. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Jungkook retorts. “You wanted to be fucked and that’s what I’m going to do. Doesn’t my cock feel good in your pussy?”

Your eyes squeeze shut. Jungkook was someone you haven’t experienced in a long time. He was a naturally athletic person so his stamina was far greater than anyone you’ve dealt with. 

“It feels so good, Kookie.” you respond, deciding that it was easier to give in to the pleasure than to continue to fight against it. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook grunts, leaning down so that he’s hovering about your face. “Am I being good for you, mommy?”

Your walls grow tighter. You nod your head hastily. “So good for me, Kookie.” you moan. “You’re fucking m-mommy so well!”

Jungkook’s breathing increases with your words. This had to be sick from the outside looking in. Surely, Jungkook had something go on in his life that you were exploiting right now for your own sick pleasure.

Jungkook flips you onto your stomach and begins to fuck you doggystyle. Both of his hands are on your shoulders, his hips rutting into you. Your ass clashes against his abdomen in fast, clapping motions that it bounces off the walls of your bedroom.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Your pussy’s squelching loudly now. “you’re fucking mommy so good, Kook.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to cum yet - he doesn’t want it to be over. But he’s far too insatiable that he just cannot get enough of you. He ruts his hips faster and faster until he’s grunting just as  loud as you’re squealing.

“You’re such a slut, mommy. You’re all mine, aren’t you? Mine to fuck whenever I want.”

You don’t respond fast enough for Jungkook’s liking and a palm harshly slams against your ass cheek.

A loud squeal comes deep from your  lips and Jungkook just knows you liked it. His palm continues to slap against your ass as he pounds into you, harder and harder each time that it leaves the skin stinging.

Your back arches, thighs opening wider to take more of Jungkook like the slut he told you that you were. 

“Mommy’s gonna cum, Kookie!” you mewl.

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook chuckles, amused. He yanks you by your hair and forces you back, thighs opening wider. “Play with your clit, mommy. Cum all over my cock like you did my hands.”

It’s so humiliating how you listen to Jungkook’s demands. As his cock rams into your swollen hole, your fingers latch onto your clit and you twirl them on the bud.

Your head rests on his chest, your fingers jamming between your folds harshly. Your sobs became louder, pussy squeezing and stomach churning.

Jungkook wished there was a mirror in front of the two of you so he could watch how crude you were right now. Your pussy is squeezing him so tight that he sinks his teeth onto the skin of your shoulder.

“F-Fuck, Kookie, Mommy’s c-cumming…!”

Warm juices pool down your thighs again and stain the cotton bedsheets. Your eyes flutter, but don’t close. You’re stuttering dumbly, going limp in Jungkook embrace.

Jungkook pushes you away and forces you onto your back once more. He lays onto his side and faces you towards him, bringing his cock back into you after throwing your leg around his waist.

Jungkook isn't making anything easy for you. You were already going through the overstimulation and he goes to suckle onto your nipple hungrily once more. His palm rubs along your ass as his cock rut inside of you.

Jungkook’s eyes roll as his tongue twirls your nipple, sucking harder and harder.

You were going to cum again, your nipples  far too sensitive to not cum even harder than the last time. You place a hand onto Jungkook's cheek, rubbing it slightly.

“Cum for mommy, Kookie.” you coo softly, holding him against your chest. 

“I-In you?” Jungkook says muffled against your breast. “I’m gonna cum in mommy’s pussy.” he repeats, determined to do just that. “Gonna breed you so nice, mommy.” 

Jungkook sloppily pounds into you until he’s cumming the hardest he’s ever had in his life. He shudders at the feeling of painting your walls with his own seed, satisfaction flowing through him.

You’re exhausted, falling against your pillows with a huff. You’re breathing heavily and when the high comes down, you are going to have to speak with Jungkook about this. Whatever the hell this was.

Jungkook, however, doesn’t move. He only connects himself back to your breast and continues to suckle gently onto your breast, his hand softly squeezing the other way. You are far too exhausted (and comfortably content) to push him away like you should.

trivia-yandere: ok but like i feel like this needs a part 2

trivia-yandere: part 2 :3

[cupidsbling]

Best mistake | J. JK

Being the heirs of rival mafia families means that you and Jungkook are supposed to be sworn enemies. Yet, as much as you claim to hate each other – deep down, you both know that the feeling is so much more than that. A feeling you both act oblivious to and bury under a haze of lust.

genre – enemies to lovers au, smut, denial,angst¿.

pairing – jungkook x fem reader.

warnings – explicit language, smut, pussy-whipped possessive jk, jk & oc bicker a lot, fingering, rough fucking (oc likes it rough), oc is very vocal (jk LOVES it) , mentions of creampie, spanking, oral (both receiving), titty worship, jk praises oc, squirting, okay basically they're obsessed with fucking eo. etc.

wc – 14k+

you're currently sitting in one of the most grand and luxurious ballrooms in the city. tonight is supposed to be something neutral - a friendly ceremony. one of those where every major family in the underworld pretended civility for a few hours before going back to fortresses to plan their next betrayals.

the jeon family is occupying the left side of tables, whereas your family is occupying the right - as far away from each other as possible. your father is standing near the bar, looking every bit the rich, powerful and dangerous mafia, he is, while glaring at his rival - the head of the jeon family, jungkook's father. who, in return, stares back at him with the same cold, hateful look.

they hate each other so much. if there's a feeling stronger than that, then that is exactly what they feel for each other.

your eyes continue to roam around the room until they find jungkook. he's leaning against a pillar near his family's side, looking so fuckable in that tailored suit he's wearing, with the first few buttons left open, giving you a glimpse of his chest and the ink on his shoulder. his hair is a bit longer than the last time you ran your fingers through it, which you're thankful for because it looks even better than it usually does. 

he looks bored until his eyes find yours. you hate how your heart stutters at the eye contact. it's been three weeks since he last had you pinned against his office desk, three weeks since he had you whimpering beneath him, three weeks since he fucked the living daylights out of you.

you tear your gaze away first, accepting champagne from one of the servers who happens to be too scared to even meet your eyes. every few minutes you would catch him staring holes into you, eyeing you. you knew that he'd be here drinking you in and that's exactly why you've decided to wear an elegant gown that's just a little revealing - cut low at the back with a slit running up your thigh. easy access.

after a few minutes of sitting, you decide it's time to slip away for a little while. you excuse yourself and no one questions it. heirs disappear all the time, whether it's to powder their noses, make discreet calls or converse with family allies, so it's a normal thing to do without getting suspicions.

you walk through the crowd until you reach the long corridor that leads to the private restrooms, inside the women's restroom is pristine and polished. there's a massive mirror stretched across the wall above the vanity. you set your bag down and study your reflection. you look perfect, but still, you tuck a small strand of hair behind your ear and adjust your hair - not because you need to, but because you know that he'll be here soon.

and right on cue, the door opens slowly, closes once he's inside and locks. instead of turning to face him, you watch him in the mirror. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed and head tilted, watching you watch yourself.

"still primping?" his voice is rough and a little mocking. "thought you'd at least pretend that you weren't waiting for me."

you roll your eyes at him. "thought you'd at least pretend that you aren't desperate enough to follow me into the bathroom like some horny teenager."

he huffs out a laugh. "three weeks is a long time, princess."

"don't call me that."

"why not?" he pushes off the wall and approaches you slowly. "you know you love it when i call you that."

"i love a lot of things you do with your mouth. talking isn't one of them."

he stops directly behind you, his hands settling on the vanity on either side of you, caging you in without touching you. his scent fills your lungs, something that isn't too strong, but still expensive, that signature smell of his that's grown to give you some kind of comfort you're unable to explain.

"look at you," he murmurs. "all dressed up, standing there and trying to convince yourself you hate me."

"i do hate you."

"yeah?" his lips brush your earlobe. "then why're you shaking? nervous?"

you scoff before speaking. "because i'm imagining all the ways i can kill you."

he chuckles against your skin. "liar."

your breath hitches when you feel one of his hands sliding up one of your thighs, under the slit of your dress, until he finds your core and cups it over your underwear. his palm rests there, making you suck in a breath.

"i missed you," he says quietly,

your eyes snap to his in the mirror. he doesn't have that cocky look on his face. his eyes roam your body with that hunger that makes you feel weak.

"three weeks," he repeats. "way too fucking long."

his lips find the side of your neck.

"don't." you warn.

"don't what?" he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. "don't tell you the truth? or don't do this?"

"both." you breathe out.

"too late," 

his other hand goes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging it back so your head is leaning on his shoulder. in the mirror you watch your reflection, noticing how your lips part and eyes darken.

"look at us," he rasps against your throat. "look how fucking perfect you look with my hands on you."

you try to glare at him, but unfortunately your eyes look more pleading than anything.

"shut up, jeon."

"why don't you make me?"

you gasp in his mouth when he suddenly kisses you roughly and passionately, showing you just how much he's been needing this the past few weeks. you arch back into him without thinking, your ass pressing against his cock through his slacks, making him groan into your mouth.

your hands thread through his hair, angling his head where you want him so you can lick deep into his mouth. he groans again, and rewards you by cupping your core harder, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit causing your hips to buck forward.

"fuck," you gasp into his mouth.

he swallows the sound and kisses you harder while his fingers slip into your underwear. two of them caress your folds, gathering your wetness before circling your clit the way you like. he starts off slow at first then picks up the pace, going faster. you can't help the needy moan that slips out of you and the way your pussy clenches around him.

he breaks the kiss to murmur against your lips. "so wet already. been dreaming about this pussy for three weeks straight.

"oh, shut up," you hiss.

he pushes two fingers inside you until they're knuckles deep. your eyes flutter closed as you let out soft moans of pleasure that become more audible when he starts pumping his fingers inside you deeper. you meet the thrusts of his fingers shamelessly.

"how nice that you're clenching around my fingers in a bathroom while our families are a couple feet away plotting each other's deaths."

again, you try to glare at him but miserably fail when he curls his fingers inside you.

"jeon-"

he pulls his fingers out of you and your eyes open widely at the loss. you whip your head around to glare at him properly now. he just smirks down at you, looking all cocky again. that sight makes you want to slap him and ride him at the same time. 

without breaking eye contact with you, he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks your arousal off his fingers. his tongue swirling around each of them slowly. you stare at him. he's so filthy and you love it.

"asshole," you say.

he ignores your rude comment and spins you back around so fast your hands slap down onto the vanity to steady yourself. you're facing the mirror fully now with him behind you. his eyes locked on yours in the reflection again. he doesn't say anything, he reaches down and unbuckles his belt, opens the buttons of his slacks then pulls down the zipper.

you watch every single thing he does in the mirror. watching as he pulls his pants and boxers down halfway. watching as his hard length springs free. your mouth goes dry (even as you mentally salivate at the sight). he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a few strokes, from the base up to the tip, spreading his precum with his thumb. he reaches down between your legs again, collects more of your arousal and uses it as lubrication on himself as he keeps stroking his cock. you clench around nothing just watching until he stops touching himself.

with one hand he reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up over your hips, bunching it at your hips. the other hand he uses to pull your underwear down, so it pools at your ankles. the cool air hitting your soaked core and the anticipation make you tremble a little. jungkook groans at the sight of you like this -trembling, your ass bare and pussy glistening.

"so fucking pretty." he mutters mostly to himself.

after admiring you for a few more seconds his fingers are on you again rubbing your clit until you twitch and chase the pressure for a short while before he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth again, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction.

"you're disgusting." you whisper.

he leans over so his chest presses against your back and talks near your ear.

"don't act like you don't love it."

you want to say something to argue, but he's right. very much right.

he lines himself at your entrance, sliding his tip inside and pulling out, teasing you (and himself)

"jungkook–"

"tell me you want me." he says.

you bite your lip when he sinks in a little deeper, stretching you open.

"say it, princess."

"fuck you." you hiss.

he lets out a little disbelieved scoff. but pushes in slowly, filling you with his large length until he's all the way in, buried to the brim with his hips flush against your ass. you both freeze, eyes locked in the mirror. both of you looking wrecked. jungkook flexes inside of you causing you to whimper. he stays there buried inside you, not moving, just giving you a stern look.

you put your pride aside and whisper, "i want you, jungkook."

"good girl." he murmurs.

he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. again and again. his thrusting in and out of you drives you insane. your palms slide against the vanity, fingers curling, wishing you could grip on something instead.

"faster," you demand with a sweet gasp.

he leans down, speaking near your ear. "beg for me."

you lift your head to glare at his reflection. "fuck. you."

he grins, knowing his luck wasn't going to work. he gives you what you want. he increases his pace, fucking you with a rhythm that has you seeing stars. the entire time you try your best not to look away from him. you want to watch him fuck and mark you.

his free hand slides up your back pushing it down so you're arching beautifully, giving him a better and deeper angle. your moans and his groans grow louder as the pleasure builds for both of you.

"you feel too good," he pants. "so tight and wet. you've really been waiting for me, hmm?"

"i wasn't." you lie as your walls flutter around him.

"liar." he growls and punctuates it with a hard thrust.

you cry out from pleasure and a little bit of pain. one of his hands slide down to find your clit, rubbing it circles that match his brutal thrusts.

"jungkook- fuck. don't stop."

"i won't," he says through gritted teeth. "not until you're coming all over my cock."

you whimper and clench hard around him. the sensation causes him to groan loudly.

"f-fuck," he grunts.

you do it again. your walls clamp down on him hard making his thrusts stutter. his hips slam forward one last time, buried in completely before he halts his movements.

"stop," he grits out. "stop clenching me like that, you're gonna make me come too fast."

you let out a breathless, mocking laugh before speaking. "poor baby. can't handle it?"

after registering your words, his hand comes down to deliver a sharp smack to your ass. the sting is delicious and causes you to involuntarily flutter around him again.

"brat," he hisses. "if you want me to fuck you properly then behave."

you force yourself to relax, trying to loosen your muscles even though your body is screaming to pull him deeper, to keep him there inside you where he belongs.

the second you unclench around him, he rewards you but pulling all the way out and slamming back in with a force that has your eyes rolling back.

he sets a perfect pace that makes it impossible for you to stay quiet as much as you can try. sweet loud moans and profanities leave your mouth that is definitely audible to anyone outside; "jungkook– oh God–yes right there! – fuck–"

he curses under his breath before placing his palm over your mouth, muffling your loud, inappropriate sounds before you attract any attention.

"shh. you wanna get us caught? want your father kicking down the door while i'm balls deep in his little princess?"

the image of that terrifies you. it would be an abomination if something like that ever happened. your father has been very vocal about his pure hatred for the jeons, including the one currently giving you one of the best fucks of your life. but still jungkook always feel too good for you to control yourself, so unfortunately you cannot help the whiny, muffled moan that slips out of you.

"fuck's sake."

he slides two fingers past your lips, pushing them deep in your mouth until they hit the back of your tongue.

"suck." he orders. "keep that pretty mouth busy."

you obey without hesitation. wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue the same way you'd done to his cock more times that you could count. thinking of the blowjobs you've given him makes you hum around his fingers, eager to feel him in your mouth again.

"that's it." he rasps. "prettiest sounds i've ever heard."

you whimper around his fingers. his thrusts get harder and deeper, making your toes curl. 

after a few minutes, your pussy starts fluttering around him causing his breath to hitch.

"there it is," he groans and picks up the pace even more. "love when you do that. when your greedy little cunt starts begging for it."

you try to speak, try to beg, but his fingers are still deep in your mouth so all that comes is a desperate, garbled whine.

"come with me. let me feel you." he orders.

after the last thrust, you release with a muffled sob of his name. your pussy spasms and milks him so hard he swears violently under his breath. he follows you right after, burying himself as deep as possible and releases inside you until you feel it leaking out around him, dripping down your thighs. his hand goes up to cup your jaw gently, tilting your face so he can leave a soft kiss on your temple before carefully pulling out. you whimper at the loss, he watches himself leaving you as your combined release drips.

"fuck, that's so hot."

you shake your head despite the heat warming up your cheeks at his words. "we have to get cleaned up, jeon. we've got something to get back to."

he reaches for one of the thick towels from the stack on the counter and wets it under the tap. he kneels behind you. the sight of jeon jungkook on his knees in a tailored suit is definitely something out of your wettest dreams.

he cleans you up, wiping between your thighs. he's so gentle it  surprises you, because some seconds ago he was fucking you like he hated you. once most of the evidence is gone, he looks up at you and leaves the softest kiss to the back of your thigh before standing up again.

"don't get used the princess treatment, yeah?" he murmurs, tossing the towel in the bin. "next time i'm leaving you dripping down your legs."

you roll your eyes at him for the one millionth time. "next time you'll be lucky if i let you touch me at all."

"sure."

he turns his attention to your messy appearance. your dress is a bit creased and still bunched up at your waist. your hair looks - well it looks like you've been thoroughly fucked, which of course you were. your lipstick is smudged and your mascara smeared under your eyes. he steps in close and starts fixing you. neatening your dress, adjusting your dress's straps with his fingertips mistakenly grazing over your breasts.

"careful." you warn.

he hums amused and then moves to your hair, combing it with his fingers and brushing a stray strand behind your ear in a way that seems way too tender for people who are supposed to be enemies.

"there," he says quietly, stepping back to survey his work. "you look almost respectable again."

you turn to face him now. he looks delicious. his hair falls into his eyes, lips swollen from your kisses, his collar wrinkled and he's a little sweaty. he looks like he deserves the best and sloppiest head in the world.

you reach up without thinking, straighten his collar and smooth his shirt. before you can pull away, he catches your wrist and holds it there, near his chest.

"why're you looking at me like that, hmm?" he asks, staring down at you.

"like what?"

"like you want me to take you again. i will if you want me to."

you yank your hand free from his hold. "in your dreams, jeon."

"yeah, almost every night." he shoots back with a smirk.

you ignore his statement, despite the wanted eruption of butterflies you feel in your stomach. jungkook checks his watch with a sigh.

"we've been gone too long already." he says.

"you go first. i'll wait for a while then come out."

he nods before leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. he gives you a little smirk then slips out the door. you give it at least two minutes before exiting the bathroom and slipping back into the hallway.

once you get back to your family's table you take your seat next to your mother, softly wincing at the dull, delicious ache between your legs. your mother turns to you immediately, her eyebrows knitting.

"what took you so long?" she asks while her eyes inspect you. "and your hair... it's a mess. are you alright?"

you force a smile. "i wasn't feeling well. must be the champagne and all the people. i needed a minute to breathe."

she studies you for another few seconds before her face softens. "poor thing. we won't stay much longer, i promise. your father's already been itching to leave anyway."

she reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "you sure you're okay?"

"fine, mom, really."

she squeezes your hair once then turns back to whatever conversation she was having before you came. across the room, you see jungkook at his table again. he's sitting with his legs spread and an arm draped over the back of another chair. he looks so hot, still so fuckable, you wish you had agreed to let him take you again.

a server places a dish in front of him. a large piece of steak with some vegetables on the side. he picks up his fork and knife and digs in as if he hadn't just fucked his sworn enemy senseless in a bathroom minutes ago. 

you've grown to learn that jungkook loves food, he loves eating. loves the way food feels on his tongue, loves the flavours, loves everything about it. but you've also grown to learn that if there's anything he loves to eat more than food - it's you.

you can't help but think about how he devours you like he's a starved man, instead of the rich, cocky bastard he usually is. the way he feasts on you, holding your thighs spread open until you're crying, shaking and begging him to stop but also to keep going.

your whole body heats up traitorously fast. damn jungkook and the stupid effect he has on you.

•───୨୧───•

a week passes by slowly, excruciatingly slow. all because it's been seven days of radio silence between you and jungkook. no messages, no random calls ending with you two having phone sex, no nothing. not that you really expected anything else, that was the deal. fuck and forget and hate each other. except this time you can't find yourself enjoying the last two very much.

you've spent most of the week locked in your own head, isolated in your fortress of an apartment. the one your father spent hundreds of thousands on. another one of the luxuries in your life that's starting to feel like a cage.

your parents love you, you know that, it's unquestionable. but love, in your family comes with terms and conditions. because your mother had complications getting pregnant again, you're an only child. the sole heir, the future of an empire that's built on money and dead bodies. you have a lot of expectations. one day the power will be yours, whether you want it or not.

and of course, you do not want it.

you want something better, something that actually makes you happy, something that's nothing like the obligations you're forced to have. 

you want to write, live in your head and put your wildest thoughts on a piece of paper. you want to express all the thoughts you've never gotten to word into a book - every fantasy you've lived, every fantasy you have yet to live. it's all you ever wanted since you were a little girl.

you've majored in literature at a university your father only tolerated because it was an ivy league and it looked good on paper.

even in your free time, writing feels like the only thing that allows you to be your true self. so when you can, you write. most of the stories you write about one specific person you despise. jungkook. he's such an interesting source of inspiration for you, especially in all of the erotic stories you write. well of course he would be. that man gives you the time of your life every time his dick is buried deep inside you.

But your dreams and ambitions don't really matter. Because at the end of the day, your parents want security, powerful alliances and legacy. And lately whenever you were alone with your parents they started dropping hints.

"Have you ever thought about settling down?" your mother would casually ask.

Your father would nod before adding on. "There are good guys out there. Sons of men we trust. Strong families. It would solidify things."

They didn't name anyone yet, but you knew many of their friends from over the years. They were all powerful, all of them safe for you. All of them so fucking boring you wanted to scream.

You didn't argue with them because you didn't think you had a right to. You have to please your parents no matter what. Even if it means putting your own happiness on the line.

So you spent the next week in your own isolated bubble - writing whatever came to mind, treating yourself to whatever you wanted, ignoring the ache between your legs that could go away if you had Jungkook.

By saturday morning you still weren't feeling too good. Which is why you've decided to text your best friend Megan for a little spa day - which of course, she immediately agreed to.

After the most relaxing day of facials, body scrubs, massages, manicures and pedicures - you and Megan are finally feeling surreal, chilling in a jacuzzi. After a while of silence, Megan turns her head to look at you.

"You've been rather quiet today. What's up?" she asks.

"I'm always quiet."

"Not like this." she nudges your foot under the warm water with her own. "Something's on your mind. I can see you're thinking too hard."

"I'm just tired." you lie.

"bullshit .

You crack one eye open, noticing that she's watching you. Who are you kidding? This is Megan, your best friend of over nineteen years. If something's wrong with you, she'd definitely know.

You let out a defeated sigh. "It's a lot." you admit. "The empire, the expectations

. And there's - the rest of it,"

"The rest of it being your extremely hot, extremely forbidden hate sex situationship with Jeon Jungkook.?"

You groan and give her an annoyed look. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting. I'm just stating facts." she gives you a small smirk. "You two still pretend you hate each other's guts while simultaneously trying to break each others's pelvis everytime there's a gala?"

You glare at her. "I do hate him."

"Mmh."

"I can't stand him."

"Sure."

"He's arrogant, stupid, fucking annoying-"

"That's funny, you say." Megan cuts in. "You light up like a Christmas tree the second his name comes up."

You open your mouth, close it then open it again. "I only need his dick." you force the words out, knowing that they might not be entirely true. "That's it. Hate fuck. No feelings. No complications."

"It's okay to want more than that, you know." she says softly.

"I don't want more. I just want to write. I want to be free. I want to be... happy,"

Megan reaches over and squeezes your shoulder. "It's okay, y/n. You're allowed to want all of that. You shouldn't be forced to do anything you don't want to."

You swallow a little lump forming in your throat. "They think marriage will fix everything and we'll have more power. They haven't said it yet but I can feel it coming."

"So what're you gonna do when they pick someone?" Megan asks softly.''

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to learn to live with it." you let out a bitter laugh.

She doesn't say anything, silence sits between the two of you for a minute before she bumps her shoulder with yours.

"Jungkook's not on that list, is he?"

You grin in disbelief. "Definitely not. My father would sooner shoot him than shake his hand."

"You're not gonna miss him afterwards?"

You don't answer her right away. Because if you had again, it would taste too bitter. Would you miss Jungkook? You're not just scared to admit the truth to Megan, you're afraid to admit the truth to yourself as well. The ugly truth that's been developing for the past few months.

"That doesn't matter."

Megan smiles sadly. "You're gonna be okay."

You lean in closer and lay your head on her shoulder, feeling relieved that you've finally gotten some things off your chest,

•───୨୧───•

Once you get into your apartment, you kick off your shoes by the door and take off your coat, dropping it somewhere. With a loud sigh, you head straight towards the bar cabinet and grab the most expensive wine you have and pour a generous glass.

As you sip on the wine, you think to yourself. You don't want to marry some stranger. Wake up next to someone you know absolutely nothing about. Be with a person whose touch would feel foreign to you. Someone who would be polite with you, instead of the possessiveness you're now used to.

But, at the same time, you don't want to disappoint your parents. Legacy means everything to them, so you're not going to let them down. Even if it means spending the rest of your life being a miserable trophy married to a business partner.

Just as most times when you're feeling stressed or uneasy, your mind wanders off to Jungkook. How addictive his touches are. How rough he can be, yet so gentle. How he fucks you so good, you can't think of anyone else but him.

You want him here right now. Want him to shove you against the nearest surface, wrap your legs around his waist and fuck every last coherent thought out your head. You want him here to make you forget all about the weight of the crowns you never asked for...

You set the wine glass down and pick up your phone, opening your messages with him. Most of the texts are filthy things - provocative, sexy pictures sent to each other. Coordinates for hookup spots. Before you can think yourself out of it, you're typing a message

You : you busy tonight?

The three dots appear almost immediately,

Jungkook : yeah. Got things to handle til late.

After reading his message you let out a highly frustrated groan and carelessly toss your phone onto the couch.

"Fucking asshole. Busy when I need something."

You gulp down a huge sip of wine before you end up cursing him out.

You love sex, love the intimacy of it, love the way it feels, love absolutely everything about it. You've always been a rather needy woman, always. And when things first happened with Jungkook, your needs had become even more unbearable.

The first time with him happened almost a year ago. You were both dealing with business when something went wrong for both of you. You both ended up hurt, cornered somewhere with nowhere to go - stuck with each other.

The details of what happened that night is a story for another time ;) But somehow, for some reason, Jeon Jungkook had ended up kissing you. For unknown reasons you had started kissing him back. You kissed each other as if you were fighting, tongues colliding together, teeth clashing,saliva dripping down your chins.

Soon enough clothes were getting pulled off, bodies were gettting marked up and you were moaning the name you despised the most as he gave you the best orgasms of your life.

Since then, the two of you had made it a thing. Instead of killing each other, you used each other - fucking where you could - in his car, in yours, in private jets, in warehouses, in hotels he'd book.

The sex you have with Jungkook was undoubtedly the best thing you could ever experience. He's perfect when it comes to giving you a good time. He loves when you ride his face, loves eating you out until you're oversensitive and screaming his name, loves fucking you good and edging you until you're crying, creampies he'd finger back inside you while whispering the filthiest things in your ear. There are so many things that you and him have tried and have yet to try, and the thought of that excites you every single time.

You're certain Jungkook loves this as much as you do, if not, he loves it even more than you do. He is pussy-whipped for you. You can tell by the way he moans when he sinks into you, the way he messages you at the oddest hours to tell you how horny he is thinking about you, the way he usually cancels everything if you send him something provocative, and so much more.

It's just a mutual hate-addiction thing between the two of you. You hate his guts. You tell yourself that every time you come around his cock. And anyways, he's just a cocky bastard who loves to get under your skin, especially when he teases you about your 'princess' status even when he's balls deep inside you.

You want to kill him sometimes, strangle him with your bare hands, shoot him - anything.

But there's another part of you that hated those thoughts (even though you'd probably wouldn't actually kill him). Sometimes you thought to yourself; What if you don't actually hate him? "What if you and him actually got to know each other? What if there could be something more between you two?

You push the thoughts away, drinking some more wine. Jungkook's a good fuck. The best fuck. You don't need more, neither do you want more. You just need him to relieve your stress and give you pleasure. But unfortunately, tonight he isn't coming.

You walk to your bedroom, lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling, trying not to think about how empty your bed feels since Jungkook isn't in it. You try not to imagine him on top of you, pinning you down, kissing while promising to fuck you exactly how you like it...

•───୨୧───•

The next few days go by quickly. You haven't done much, since there wasn't a lot for you to do - other than a few errands your parents asked you to handle, or random outings with Megan.

It's been a bit boring, but rather peaceful and relaxing, the only thing that had been worrying you was the fact that you had no messages from Jungkook. Not a single text asking to see you, not a single picture from him, not even a single voice note. Usually he'd reach out at least once or twice a week, sometimes more if the week had been boring. But now there's been nothing but silence.

Throughout these days you've tried to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, you don't even care. He's busy, he's an asshole, maybe he's got his dick up someone else. It's fine. Good for him. It doesn't bother you. You don't need him.

Except you do need him. And that's been abundantly clear every time you touched yourself and failed to bring to yourself even a quarter of the pleasure he brings to you.

By Thursday evening you were feeling rather miserable, and to make your matters worse, your phone buzzed with a message.

Mother : Sweetheart, we have another event this Saturday. Your father insists we all attend together. Dress appropriately.

You groan loudly. Yet another night of forced smiles, politics and fake performances. You're so tired of it, you almost tell your mother that you're in no mood to attend when you remember something. Jungkook will be there, of course he will. None of the Jeons ever miss prestigious events, they show up to these things as if it's the biggest blessing.

You're itching to see Jungkook. He hasn't said anything in longer than usual, so you're very curious about his whereabouts. On Saturday night you'll corner him somewhere quiet and kick him in his groin and demand he tell you why he's been ghosting you.

•───୨୧───•

It's finally Saturday night. You're standing in front of your mirror assessing how you look. You look beautiful, wearing a long, emerald-coloured dress with the neckline dipping enough to show some cleavage and a slit that shows your thigh every time you take a step. Your hair is let down and you've touched up with just a bit of make-up. You look perfect, but inside, you're far from it – you're feeling nervous.

Once you reach the venue with your parents, you enter and take your seats. As discreet as possible, you start scanning the crowd. The Jeon table is already occupied. Mr Jeon sitting beside his wife, along with some of their other family and advisors, but no Jungkook. Your heart drops. Jungkook is always here, he'd never miss such events.

You force your gaze away and accept a glass of champagne from a passing server. Your mother says something to you, but you barely register her words, since your mind is completely elsewhere. Where the fuck is he?

You keep your eyes forward as the elderly host welcomes all the guests. For the next couple of minutes you watch as people converse with one another. Watching as you sit alone, hoping that he'll just show up soon – not because you're eager* to see him or anything! But because he really deserves to get kicked in his balls. That's all.

After a while, the doors open again. You turn your attention to the late arrivals, and there Jungkook is. Painfully looking as handsome as ever in a black tuxedo with his hair a little messy, just as you like it. His movements cause multiple heads to turn to him and look at him with either respect, admiration or envy.

But he's not alone. A woman is clinging to his arm. She's beautiful and elegant-looking wearing a silky pink gown that hugs her curves. She leans into Jungkook as they walk, her head tilted on his shoulder, and he... he's smiling at her. Smiling at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the room.

The glass of champagne freezes halfway to your lips. They walk over to the Jeon family table together. When Jungkook's mother sees them, the warmest smile spreads across her face. She stands to greet the woman, lightly kissing both her cheeks. "So lovely to see you again, darling." she says clearly enough for everyone around them to hear. The girl smiles back sweetly and lets Jungkook guide her into the seat right beside him. 

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You force your gaze back to the stage to whatever the host is talking about. Your fingers tighten around your glass, you're certain it might break. A few minutes later, you glance back at Jungkook, he glances at you too, making brief eye contact before he looks away. He looks away as though so very recently, he did not fuck you so passionately, so needily.

Your blood turns to ice. Is this why he ghosted you? He found himself a real girlfriend? One who he can bring to fancy events. Someone who his mother clearly approves of. Someone who isn't a secret he has to hide. You want to walk over there, yell at him and beat the shit out of him, but how can you?

Despite all the anger you're currently feeling, buried deep beneath, something you don't want to acknowledge is that you may be hurt. But of course, you tell yourself that you don't care who else he fucks, who he dates because you hate him. And right now you hate him more than ever.

You don't look at him again, you keep your eyes anywhere but him. Though many times, you've gotten the feeling of him looking at you.

You look completely unbothered, but mentally you're cursing him. Piece of shit. How dare he?

The event isn't even halfway done when you watch movement in your peripheral vision. Jungkook and the girl are standing. He murmurs something to his mother before offering the woman his arm again, she takes it with a smile. He walks her toward the exit with his hand on her lower back as she continues clinging to him.

You endure the rest of the event with your parents, until it's time to go home.

•───୨୧───•

The days after the event were unbearable for you, and unfortunately for everyone around you as well. You were being rather bitchy to your assistants, your mother and anyone else really. Everyone has been getting the worst of your mood swings.

One of the days, you had printed a booklet filled with pictures of Jungkook's face so you could use them on dummies at your family's private shooting range to practise your headshots. And not so surprisingly, you had blown the heads off of all the dummies. At a sparring session, you had taped one of the pictures to the punching bag and beat it up, vividly imagining that it actually was Jungkook

A few nights after that, as if he was trying to get under your skin, he had the audacity to message you.

Jungkook : you up? Can I come over.

The audacity that this man has astounds you. You type messages swearing at him before deleting them, deciding to be mature and block him instead.

the following evening you sit at your desk and decide to pour your rage into pages. You describe your male as very similar to Jungkook (which you often do) and describe the female lead as similar to you. In your little story, the female lead becomes aggravated with the male and ends up trying to physically harm him.

Somehow, things end up becoming even more tense between them and they share the most heated kiss, until things elevate. You write the scene until it starts to read like something too close to reality. Something too close to what you and Jungkook would end up doing.

You slam your laptop shut, telling yourself that none of those stories you've written are about him. None of the stories you've written in there are anything about the experiences you've had with him. You'd never write about him. You love to write whereas you have nothing but hate for Jungkook. It would be too ironic.

୨୧

On Saturday evening, you're still feeling quite awful. You need something urgently, something to make you feel good. You reach in your freezer for some soju, just to help quiet the noise in your head. You're about to open the bottle when you hear a sound upstairs, the sound of your window opening followed by steps.

Your heart skips a beat. Nobody gets past your security, absolutely nobody.

Quietly you take one of the knives from your kitchen drawer. Your parents have made you train how to fight, you know how to use weapons, so you know exactly how to draw blood without killing.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom. The bedroom door is cracked open; you push it open with your shoulder whilst keeping your knife raised. A hooded figure is stepping in, a figure you recognise immediately despite the darkness. Once he's properly inside, he gently closes the window.

Without hesitation, you close the distance, hook your arm around his throat from behind and yank him backwards and hold the knife firmly to his throat.

"Don't move." you warn him.

He freezes before pulling his hood down.

"Hey hey, it's me." he says quickly with his hands up. "It's just me, princess. Put the knife down."

You stare at the side of his face, remembering how he brought another woman to the event, yet still has the guts to show up here as if you're just going to allow it. Your grip on the knife doesn't loosen, instead you press it harder against his skin.

Jungkook's breath hitches and his eyebrows knit together, his confusion turning more cautious.

"Baby... what are you doing? It's me." he whispers.

You lean in closer so your lips brush his ear.

"What the hell are you doing breaking into my house?" you ask. "You think you can just come here after ghosting me?"

Jungkook swallows. "I just came to see you. I've been calling and texting, you haven't picked up once. I thought something was wrong."

You huff out a bitter laugh. "Something wrong? Yeah. You. You're what's fucking wrong, Jeon."

He blinks once, confusion mixing with his fear. He's scared, not necessarily scared of the knife being pressed to his throat (he's been threatened with worse), he's scared of you, like this.

"You blocked me?" he asks.

"Yes, I did."

He exhales through his nose. "Then why the fuck are you acting like i ghosted you on purpose? I've been-"

"Shut up." You press the knife even harder, until a thin red line appears on his skin "You're stupid for coming here. I don't want to see you. I could kill you right now and nobody would know."

His adam's apple bobs. And then faster than you can process, he twists. His forearm knocks the knife out of your hand while the other grabs your wrist tightly, causing the knife to clatter on the floor. You don't even have time to gasp when he spins you and slams you back against the wall, pinning both your hands on top of your head, using one of his hands.

He uses his body to keep you in place, his chest pressing against yours, his hips flush against yours, his thigh slotting between yours. Your breath hitches when his free hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, a bit roughly.

"Gotcha." he teases

Your heart's racing so fast, you're almost sure he can feel it.

Fuck, you love this. You hate that you do. You love the way he manhandles you, so rough and possessive, all dominating. Your body reacts before your brain can catch up, your nipples harden and you feel that little flutter in your lower belly. But even despite your growing arousal, you're still so fucking angry.

He leans in slowly, his nose brushing the side of your neck. Earlier on you had the longest bath, shaved, used the sweetest smelling soap and applied your favourite moisturizer. You've done that for yourself, to feel good. You surely did not expect Jungkook to be here inhaling your smell as if you're a drug. He exhales shakily, letting out a soft groan.

"Fuck," he curses against your throat. "You smell so good."

His kisses on your neck start off soft, then they become open-mouthed, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You gasp when he starts biting you. He goes further up to suck just below your ear, hard enough to leave a mark.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asks roughly. "You're angry. Talk to me."

You keep quiet, not wanting to answer him. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

"Baby..."

"Don't call me that."

He exhales through his nose again, sounding a bit frustrated. He kisses your neck again while rolling his hips against you, grinding his hardness against you causing you let out an involuntary high moan.. Jungkook pulls back to look at you again.

"Tell me what I did."

You say nothing, he waits for your answer that is not coming anytime soon. You just stare up at him. He sighs before dropping his forehead to yours.

Soft and almost pleading, he asks; "What's wrong? Why are you being like this?"

Hearing him ask what's wrong, as if he's not the source of your anger further enrages you. You're not sure what comes over you, but you do what you've been meaning to do – you knee him square in the balls.

He groans and sucks in a sharp breath, followed by a few curses. He stumbles to the side, one of his hands going down to cup himself as the other hand braces on the wall. The pain he feels is strong, but it's not excruciating. It was your intention just to hurt him a little, not to break your favourite part of him.

After the pain seems to fade, he straightens with his jaw clenched. You don't wait to see how he recovers, instead you walk towards the bedroom door, eager to get away from him. If he values his life, he better get out the same way he came in.

You make it about three steps to the door when suddenly strong arms are being wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet. You squeal, shocked and furious.

"Jungkook! Put me the fuck down!"

He does not listen to you, instead he carries you over to your bed and drops you face down on it. Before you can get up to swing at him, he delivers a very hard smack to your ass. Involuntarily you let out a high pitched gasp, jerking forward a bit.

The delicious sting of his smack goes straight between your legs. Fuck. You hate how your body betrays every single time. You're a sucker for his hands on you, you've always been one. You love his touches - whether they're rough or gentle, punishing you or praising you. The second Jungkook touches you, your brain short circuits and you get rather excited*

He leans over you, so his chest is pressed against your back. One knee is between your thighs to keep you spread open. He delivers another smack to your ass, this time it's even harder. You fail to hold back the moan that makes its way from your throat, it's so needy that you want to punch yourself.

"There she is." he murmurs against your ear lowly. "My princess making those pretty sounds for me."

"Fuck off." you try to say, as petty as possible. Though, it just comes out breathless.

He chuckles at that, rubbing your ass cheek softly, soothing the skin through your thin, silky shorts. His hand goes down to caress you where your thigh meets your ass cheek. He bends to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss there then a lot more.

You squeeze your eyes shut. How the hell can he do this? How can he climb through your window, man handle you, spank you and kiss you so intimately after everything?

You hate him so much right, yet you've missed him too. You've spent nights alone, dreaming of him being here, doing exactly what he's doing now. But now he's here, aching to please you and all you want to do is dig his eyes out. Jungkook shifts a bit, pressing his hips forward so you can feel exactly how hard he is.

"Been thinking about this pretty pussy nonstop. You gonna make it better, baby? Or you gonna keep being a brat and making me beg?"

You bite your bottom lip, wanting to do both of those options. But you're still feeling petty so you keep quiet instead, not giving him any answer.

He lets out a long, frustrated exhale. "You're really gonna do this tonight."

Again, you don't answer.

"Do you want me gone?"

"Yes."

He stops for a few seconds, breathing in and out, his cock throbbing against your ass. Eventually, he sighs deeply and pushes off you. The sudden absence of his weight on you feels awful. You didn't think that he'd actually get off.

"Fine," he says softly. "If that's what you want."

He stands, adjusts himself and turns to your room window, walking toward it. Once you hear him opening it, panic claws its way up your throat. You roll over fast.

"Jungkook. Wait "

For a while, he stands there for a moment, with his back turned to you. Slowly, he turns back to face you, his eyes meeting yours, you notice that he looks a little hurt.

"I'm not gonna force you. If you want me gone, I'll go."

You stare up at him with your chest tight. You want him to stay, you need him to stay, and you hate the fact that you do.

"Don't go." you whisper.

Jungkook sighs, walking back over to you. You're looking up at him with the prettiest expression he's ever seen. Your eyes are a little glassy, your lips slightly parted. The look undoes him, makes him weak, so fucking weak. He's faced dangerous men who've had loaded guns pressed to his forehead, and even then he'd been okay. But with you - you unravel him in ways he never thought were possible.

He stops right in front you. He reaches out, his knuckles grazing your jaw. His hand opens to cup the side of your face as his thumb caresses your bottom lip. Your breath hitches, he uses the opportunity to press the tip of his thumb inside your mouth. Your lips close around it gently first before you start sucking and twirling your tongue around it while maintaining eye contact with him.

Jungkook swallows hard, his other hand balling into a fist at his side as if he's trying to hold himself back from grabbing your hair and yanking you down to suck onto something else.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asks rough, yet tenderly. "You've been so mad ever since I came."

He pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, brings it to his own mouth and licks your spit off it with his eyes locked onto yours. You stare back at him, your mouth opening and then closing, still holding back your answer.

Jungkook sighs again softly before leaning down close. So close that his nose brushes yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

You give him a confused, almost amused look. How dare he act polite now after spanking your ass the way he did?

Your lips pout just a little - enough for him to understand what you're saying. He grins, closing the distance. The kiss starts off gentle and soft. But you're not in the mood for his gentleness or softness. Your hands fly up to his hoodie, bringing him closer to insert your tongue into his mouth whilst kissing him harder.

He lets you dominate for a few seconds until he takes control as usual. His hand makes its way to the back of your neck, threading into your hair to tilt your head exactly where he wants it. His other hand goes to your waist, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you like he's trying to suffocate you, it's filthy and possessive. His tongue thrusts into your mouth making you whimper into his mouth. He sucks onto your bottom lip, nips on it then soothes it with his tongue

You try to fight for dominance – pushing against his chest, trying to change the angle, trying to get control. Jungkook just tightens his grip, growls low in throat and keeps dominating you. Until the memory of him walking into that event with that woman on his side, smiling with her, being glued to her, his mother beaming at her as if she's her future daughter-in-law - the memory hits you, ugly and unwelcomed. You bite down hard on Jungkook's lip.

He winces and breaks the kiss with a hiss, a little bit of blood blooms on lip. He looks at you with something dark and wild in his eyes, before suddenly placing his hands on your hips and flipping you onto all fours with effortless strength. You squeal, surprised. Before you can snap at him, his fingers find the waistbands of your shorts and your underwear underneath and pulls them down.

They pool at your knees, so now you're presented to him with your bare ass up, back arched and pussy glistening. He groans before leaning down to sink his teeth into one of your ass cheeks, biting on it as revenge.

You gasp and moan loudly at the same time. "Jungkook-"

He soothes the mark almost immediately, kissing his bite mark softly.

"Payback." he says against your skin.

He leans down lower, spreading you wider with his hands before latching his mouth on you. He doesn't start off slow, he licks you from your entrance to your clit greedily. You cry out loudly, your hips bucking back against his face.

He groans into you as if you're the best thing he's ever eaten. Because you are. He missed this – he missed you. Missed the way you taste, missed the way you get so wet for him, missed the you sound. He eats you out like he's starving. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking softly then becoming harder, thrusting his tongue into your entrance, while his tongue nudges your clit every time.

You're loud, you're always extremely loud. Moans escaping you loud and needy. "Jungkook- fuck. Right there, don't stop."

He hums against you, the vibrations turning you on even more. His hand grips your thigh tightly, holding you in place to prevent you from moving an inch from his mouth. After a very few minutes, you're shaking, moaning even louder.

"Jungkook- I'm- ah."

Jungkook always knows when you're close. He doubles his efforts, sucking and tongue fucking you even harder until you're releasing while moaning his name. He doesn't stop. He keeps licking you up slowly until you're whimpering softly. He pulls back to breathe, before leaving a few pecks on your swollen and sensitive pussy

He straightens and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You turn over so you can watch him. He reaches behind his neck to pull his hoodie over his head, his shirt follows afterwards.

You missed this sight more than you'd ever admit. The sight of Jeon Jungkook standing near your bed shirtless, flushed, looking so lustful. He's definitely the most attractive man you've ever seen – handsome, tall, muscular, tatted. You can't look away from him.

He catches you staring, his eyes darken and he gives you a small smirk. His hands move to his belt so that he can unbuckle it and put it aside. He pulls down the zip on his pants and pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard, thick and leaking at the tip.

You get off the bed, getting to your knees. Your mouth waters and your pussy clenches at the thought of having him in your mouth as soon as possible. At this moment all you think of is how you're about to give him the best head. You're concerning yourself with the event, with the other woman, nothing.

You wrap your hand around his thick cock and guide the tip to your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, licking and swallowing the precum. Jungkook hisses through his teeth. One of his hands finds the back of your head - not controlling your movements, just holding instead.

"Ah fuck, good girl..." he breathes.

You hum around him, content at the praise. You know he likes it so you take him deeper and hollow your cheeks as you suck on him. You've given  him head countless times so over time you've learnt how to give him the most enjoyable time.

You're pleasuring him exactly the way he likes – deep throating with saliva dripping down your chin. Jungkook's hips start jerking, chasing your mouth as you start bobbing your head.

"Just like that." he groans.

His free hand finds yours near his thigh and he intertwines them together.

"You're taking me so well, princess."

You moan around him, high and needy. Again, loving his praise. You pick up the pace, going faster until wet, slurping sounds fill the room. Saliva drips down your chin onto your chest, but you don't stop, you suck him deeper until your eyes water. Jungkook's losing it. His hand grips your hair tightly now as he thrusts into your mouth as gently as he possibly can.

"Gonna come-" he pants. "You want it down your throat?"

You answer by twirling your tongue around him, trying to take him impossibly deeper. He groans as he comes hard, down your throat. You swallow it as your head still bobs slowly. Jungkook curses under his breath.

When he finally stops pulsing, you pull off slowly until the tip is out your mouth with a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to him. You look up at through your slightly wet lashes, he stares down at you with an unreadable look.

You stand up slowly and sit back on the bed, propping yourself on your elbows. Jungkook stands there frozen for a few moments. Fuck, you're gorgeous. Eyes watery, chin wet, hair messy. He wants to tell you, wants to drop to his knees and tell you that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, that just looking at you makes his heart flutter, that he'd climb through your window every night if he could, just to see you for five minutes.

But the small ache that's still there in balls reminds him that you'd probably knee him again if he tried to be soft with you. So he doesn't speak, he just climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. He kisses you filthy and hungry. Your tongues slide together, tasting each other. Both of you moan and groan into each other's mouths animalistically.

It's one of your nastiest make-out sessions yet - teeth clashing, tongues colliding. He sucks onto your tongue, pulls it between his lips and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. He grinds against you causing his cock to slide against your inner thigh.

You arched up into him, nails digging into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He breaks the kiss to lift your camisole top up so it bunches at your arms. He doesn't pull it completely off yet, he just leans down and licks between your cleavage. He comes back to lick one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth.

You gasp, back arching off the bed and fingers flying to his hair. He groans around your nipple before switching to your other breast. He sucks and bites on it, making sure to leave his marks on you. As he sucks on the one, he palms the other, squeezing while using his thumb to play with your nipple.

"Gonna fuck you so good tonight." he mumbles roughly. "Gonna ruin this pretty pussy so every time you walk you'll remember I was here, so you remember that you're all mine."

You love this side of him. You love how possessive he sounds over you, how he praises you, but the words do not sit right with you tonight. 'Mine.' When he walked into that event with someone else by his side. The anger suddenly surges back, but you don't say or do anything yet. You know how you're going to torment him and you're about to enjoy it more than anything.

Jungkook pulls your camisole off completely, tosses it somewhere then gets his pants and boxers off. He's completely naked now. He settles between your thighs while he keeps kissing you wherever he can reach – on your throat, your collarbone and between your breasts.

One of his hands reaches down to wrap around his length, guiding himself to your entrance. He nudges the tip through your folds, teasing the both of you and he smears his precum with your wetness until you're both softly groaning. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and wild and lustful.

"You want me, baby?" he asks, his voice rough and heavy with restraint.

You stare up at him, your nails now digging into his shoulders a bit angrily. Instead of answering him, you lift your hips, trying to slide yourself down onto him, taking him slowly. Jungkook curses and pushes in the rest of the way, stretching you open until he's buried all the way.

You both freeze for a second, breathing in each other's air. After a short while, Jungkook starts to move into you. His hands find yours and he intertwines them above your head. He pulls out then sinks in even deeper with a loud groan.

"Fuck." his forehead drops down onto yours and his eyes flutter shut. "This is the best feeling in the world. Nothing comes close to this.

He truly means it. To him there's nothing better than being buried inside you and feeling you wrap around him. It's addictive to him, he could spend the rest of his life buried in your pussy and be the happiest man on Earth.

You're soaking wet, allowing him to thrust into you with ease. He moves slowly at first, pulling out and pushing back in, until he goes deeper and harder. Fucking you in the way that drives you insane for him.

By now you're moaning, unfiltered and needy. Your nails rake down his back, hard enough to leave your marks on him. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back to pull him deeper.

Jungkook loves how you get when he fucks you. He loves how needy you get, how pretty you sound. He doesn't know why it gets him so hard and turned on, why hearing you fall apart because of him makes him feel so possessive over you. Jungkook wishes he could experience this feeling forever. Just you and him, being so intimate and desperate for each other.

"Listen to you." he groans against your ear, fucking you harder now. "So loud for me. Taking me so well."

You're enjoying this way too much. Jungkook is being so perfect tonight. He's rough and praising – just the way you love him. You can feel him everywhere, on top of you, inside of you, surrounding you.

This has to be one of the best fucks you and him have ever had. Maybe it's because you're angry at him, and maybe it's because you felt something you'd hate to admit when you saw him with that woman. Maybe those are reasons why you're enjoying it so much, it's because a part of you is glad that he's here, pleasuring you.

But even as you melt under him and the pleasure builds, your mind still wanders off to places you wish it wouldn't. What if he fucks that woman like this? What if he whispers the same filthy praises in her ears? What if he tells her that being inside of her is the best thing ever?

Your nails grip into his back harder, with a small intention to hurt him. To make your marks on him even more visible and obvious. Jungkook hisses, both in pain and pleasure. His pace increases as if you marking him turns him on more.

"Fuck, mark me up, baby." he pants. "Let everyone know who I belong to."

You almost let out a bitter laugh, because it sounds so ironic. Purposely, you clench around him hard, pussy fluttering tightly around his cock causing Jungkook's perfect rhythm to stutter. A moan escapes Jungkook and his hips jerk forward.

"Fuck – don't - don't do that–"

He loves when you do that, when you squeeze tightly, clenching around his cock, trapping him inside you. But on the downside, it makes him come way too fast – embarrassingly fast. Every time you do it, he begs you to stop. His hips thrust forward as he pant.

"Baby stop. I'm gonna – "

You do not stop, instead you clench and unclench around him until he's groaning loudly and releasing into you. He buries his face in your neck, hips bucking as he comes with a curse.

When it's over he stays there breathing hard with his hands still laced with yours. The bliss for him does not last. He lifts his head slowly and looks at you, realising that he hasn't made you come. You're just looking at him with something mean in your eyes. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together.

He does not like this. He never ever likes coming before you. It feels wrong, like he failed you somehow. He always wants you to come first, or at least to come with him. That's how it should be. Your pleasure before his own. Your pleasure is his priority.

He pulls out slowly and braces himself on his forearms above your head. "Baby..." you notice he sounds quite pissed off. "What the fuck was that?"

You blink up at him, looking like the picture of innocence. "Hmm?" you hum sweetly. "What was what?"

Jungkook stares down at you. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something. He wants to question you, wants to accuse you. He wants to ask what the hell is going on in that head of yours? Why are you doing this? He swallows his questions and leans in slowly to kiss the corner of your mouth before pulling back to look at you.

You stare at him, he's all flushed with his hair messy. You can't help but think that he looks cute like this. Way too cute for someone who can kill with his bare hands. Your heart does something stupid and infuriating. You hate him for making you feel this way.

He reaches down, grabs his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe between your thighs where his release still spills out. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lines himself at your entrance again.

You're still wet, but still, he pushes in slowly until he's deep inside. You both exhale. He stays still for a second, feeling how you're still lightly fluttering around him. He starts to move through your tight walls against your sensitive spots that he knows so well. He knows your body better than his own, so he definitely knows how to give you a good time.

You moan right against his ear and he groans lowly in response. He buries his face in your neck and starts kissing you there, open-mouthed and hungrily. You tug his hair, pulling him closer, motivating him to pick up the pace. Your breasts bounce with every one of his thrusts and Jungkook cannot stop staring at you.

"You're so pretty when you're getting fucked." he rasps.

He hooks his hands under your knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders. The new angle allows him to sink in even deeper. Your eyes flutter shut at the perplexing feeling.

Minutes pass, sweat forms on Jungkook's temple, dropping down to his jaw, making him look even hotter. His stamina is insane, he could usually go on for hours. His focus right now is on making you come all for him.

He's been very needy as of recently, since he hasn't been sexually active in a very long time, so when he feels his own pleasure building in his lower belly and his thighs starting to shake, he's not surprised.

He can feel that you're close as well, your pussy starts fluttering around him. You're so close. He brings your legs down and hooks them around his waist so he can hover over you with his forearms braced on either side of your head. He's close enough to you that you both breathe in each other's breaths. He kisses your jaw, the corner of your mouth and you cheek bone before leaning to your ear to speak roughly.

"I'm close, baby. Come with me." he whispers. "Please – wanna feel you come on my dick. Wanna come together."

Your pussy flutters around him greedily and he groans. "Fuck, yeah–"

You're milking him hard, making his head spin. He cannot hold himself, he comes hard, burying himself inside you with a moan, his hips jerking through it. He waits, waiting to feel your walls seize him deep and gush around him. But there's nothing, absolutely nothing. You're panting and breathing heavily but you haven't released.

Jungkook processes it for a few seconds, then slowly, he pulls out. His cock is still hard, but softens now that the pleasure is being replaced by something else entirely. He braces himself on his forearm, hovering over you.

He asks, low and quite annoyed, "Are you doing this on purpose?"

Again, you look up at him innocently. "Doing that?" you tilt your head at him, faking confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jungkook clenches his jaw. He exhales through his nose, frustrated. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're not coming. You're holding it back just to fuck with me."

You let out a small scoff. "Maybe you're just not doing a good enough job."

The words hit Jungkook right where it hurts the most. He freezes for a few seconds. Then his eyes darken, his fingers grip the sheet as if he's trying to hold himself back. What you just told him is the worst thing you could've ever told him, it bruises him like nothing else. You've told him that he isn't good enough for you, that he could not satisfy you.

He growls low, "You fucking brat."

He roughly flips you over so you're on your stomach. You gasp and barely have time to brace yourself before he yanks you up, so you're on fours in front of him. Your face is pressed into the sheets and your ass in the air. His slaps your ass cheek hard, so hard that the sound echoes in your massive room. You yelp and moan, jerking forward.

His hand wraps around throat, tilting your head back so you're arching. He pulls you up until your back is against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. His warm breath fans your ear. His other hand goes down to deliver a smack directly to your clit. You cry out shamelessly, pain and pleasure shooting through you.

"Stop your fucking shit." he growls against your ear. "Right now."

You laugh breathlessly, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Why? What are you gonna do about it, Jeon?"

His grip on your throat tightens slightly and his teeth graze your earlobe. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."

His hand between your thighs moves up higher, he slides two fingers through your folds, circling your clit. You whimper, melting into his touch even as you try to stay defiant.

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" he murmurs. "You think I don't know how you're trying to make me mad?"

His fingers press against your clit harder as he kisses your neck, sucking onto the marks he's left. He inserts his fingers inside you again, curling them deep. He finger-fucks you until you're panting and moaning again.

He carries on until he knows you're about to release, but still, you don't. You refuse to give him what he so desperately wants, you continue denying yourself just to spite him. You're still winning whatever fucked up game this is.

Jungkook pulls his fingers out abruptly and uses his hand to deliver another smack to clit before cupping it, feeling you throb against him. He tries to catch his breath, he's fuming at this point. What kind of torture is this?

But Jungkook being Jungkook, is not going to give up. He lines himself at your entrance again and sinks into you in a hard thrust. You moan, nails digging into his arm where it holds you across your stomach. Again, he starts fucking you, but harder and deeper now, keeping one arm securely around your waist and the other loosely around your neck.

You're so loud, whimpering and moaning softly – those sweet sounds he lives for. He goes on for long until he can feel the pleasure building for himself, warning him that he was going to come yet again but he can still feel you holding back.

He stops moving, his hips thrust forward one last time and he stays buried deep inside you. He lets out a frustrated groan as his forehead drops to your shoulder, both his hands moving to your hips now.

"What is your fucking problem?" he asks furiously, almost pleading.

For a moment, you say nothing. Then you finally let it out. "I can't stand you." you say, your own voice furious. It kind of sounds like you're at the verge of crying. "You're so stupid, Jungkook. So fucking blind. How can you be here, fucking me, when you brought someone along with you to the event? Let your mom beam at her, like she's something important to you–"

Jungkook freezes, although his grip on your waist tightens as he processes your little outburst. After a few seconds, he huffs out a laugh against your neck.

"Is this funny to you!?" you hiss, yanking forward trying to pull away from him.

His cock almost slips out of you, but you don't make it away because he pulls you back against him so roughly, your ass recoils against his hips. You hate yourself for the pure moan that spills out of you.

Jungkook's lips brush your ear as he speaks, "You're jealous." he says, smug and delighted.

"I'm not jealous." you spit, rageful. "I hate you. I hate that you think you just parade with someone else, then climb through my window like I'm yours to fuck whenever you want me."

"Oh, princess." he pulls out and thrusts inside you. "You are still mine. And yeah, I brought someone else to the event. She's just a family friend. An old arrangement my mom's been pushing for years. She doesn't mean shit. I don't want her, baby."

"Bullshit."

He presses a soft, tender kiss to the side of your neck. "You think I'd risk everything, my reputation, my life – just to be someone who isn't you?" his tone turns serious, losing the smugness. "You're the only person I want."

You're speechless, not believing what you just heard. But of course, you're not going to admit how happy his words have made you, so instead you clench around his cock hard. He winces and his hips jerk forward.

"Fuck." he grunts, letting out a ragged breath. 

He sucks another mark onto your neck while rolling his hips into you.

"You think I look at anyone else the way I look at you?"

He thrusts into you deeply again, making you moan and arch your back.

"You're the only one," he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "The only one who makes me this stupid, this weak. This fucking desperate."

He punctuates each sent with a thrust before sticking to the perfect rhythm that has you moaning his name. He removes the hand from your throat and brings it down to your breasts to knead them.

"Look at these tits. So fucking perfect." he groans. "You know how many times I jerked off thinking about them?"

He pinches one of your nipples, making you whimper before he soothes it.

"You're so tight," he continues, his hips carry on thrusting in and out of you. "So wet, so fucking greedy. No one else feels like this."

He sucks more marks onto your neck while his hand goes down to rub your clit, causing you to cry out his name.

"Jungkook–ah"

Fuck. He wants those sounds in his mouth, he wants to swallow it, he wants to taste you. He grabs your face with his other hand, turning it to give you a messy kiss. He pushes his tongue inside your mouth,exploring and swallowing your pretty sounds.

Jungkook doesn't even understand what he wants anymore. All he knows is that he wants all of you. He never wants to ever pull out, he just wants to spend the rest of his life buried deep inside of you. His thrusts become even more relentless. He pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. He puts a hand on your hip, pulling you against him to meet his thrust.

You're fluttering around him wildly, more than usual. Your breathless words become incoherent now, making Jungkook dizzy.

"Come on, baby." he growls against your mouth. "Come for me. I need to feel you."

You shamelessly scream his name as you gush around him. Warm liquid drips down his cock, soaking his thighs and sheets. Jungkook's eyes open wide as he feels the sensation, the wetness drenches him from the base to the tip. His thrusts stutter as he continues slamming into you

"Oh fuck–"

Jungkook is gone. He must be in paradise.

He releases, burying himself as deep as possible, coming into you while panting. He carries on going while you tremble and whimper beneath him.

When it finally ends, he collapses over you, his forehead on your back. He stays inside of you, not being able to out since you're still fluttering around him.

Jungkook is astounded. After a moment, he finally speaks. "Fuck... you just squirted all over me."

You immediately stiffen, feeling a sudden sense of embarrassment. You try to squirm away, but he tightens his hold on you, staying inside of you. You bury your face into your pillow and let out a mortified groan. Jungkook softly kisses your shoulder and then your neck.

"That was the hottest fucking thing ever." he rasps against you. "I'm gonna make you do it again and again."

You whimper, wanting to protest, but deciding against it, because you know that once Jungkook wants something, he's determined to get it. Especially if it revolves around you.

•───୨୧───•

Minutes later, the room is quiet. Jungkook lay on his back, an arm over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. The sheets are damp beneath him, but it doesn't bother him. He stares at the ceiling, thinking. 

He turns his head to look at you. You're laying on your side, facing away from him with a blanket covering half your naked body. Jungkook looks at you in pure admiration and desire. He could go again right now. Slide inside you from the back and go for another round or two, but he decides not to – he's a bit tired and you must be even more.

The distance between the two of you feels wrong, he wants your bodies to be touching, he wants contact with you. He shifts over, closing the gap until your back is pressed against his chest. He puts his arm over your waist, bringing you closer to him. You let him pull you close until your ass is nestled perfectly in between his thighs. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent – you smell like your sweet body wash, sweat, sex and mostly him. He kisses your neck a few times.

"Why're you so away from me?" he asks, against you.

You sigh. "I feel gross." you admit.

"I don't." he kisses under your jaw softly. "I feel incredible."

He caresses your stomach soothingly. "But I do think you should pee. And we should shower."

"Yeah..." you say.

He kisses your shoulder one more time before standing up. "Come on." he lets out his hand for you to take.

You take his hand, letting him pull you up. Your legs are wobbly so he steadies you by holding you and guiding you to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, Jungkook opens the taps, making sure that the temperature is perfect for you, while you pee.

After you're done, you step past him and into the shower. He follows after you. The hot water cascades over you, it feels absolutely amazing. Jungkook squeezes some of your body wash into his hands, planning to wash you. But you shrug him off, not wanting him to touch you.

His hands fall away. He takes a moment to look at you. You look really tense as if something is wrong. As much as he wants to, he doesn't try to get you to tell him. He just stands under the shower next to you and washes himself as well.

Once you're both done, you turn off the tap. Jungkook grabs a towel and wraps it around you. He then gets two more, one to wrap around hips and the other for your wet hair.

"Thanks." you tell him

He nods before following you out the bathroom and back to your bedroom. The sheets are a disaster so he takes them off, dumps them into the laundry basket and puts new ones on the bed.

Jungkook glances at you every now and then, watching as you dry your hair with a stoic expression. He finds his discarded boxers and puts them on before getting into bed with a tired sigh.

He watches you pull over a silky, short sleep dress and tie up your hair. You look like something out of a fever dream. A little ruined, his marks all over you, limping a little. You're so beautiful.

You get into the bed next to him, laying on your side, facing him now. None of you speak, you just stare into each other's eyes.

After a while you speak. "When did you start being so... affectionate?"

He raises an eyebrow at you, amused.

"Most of the time you just fuck me and leave, or I leave. You don't stay, hold me or do any of this."

Jungkook gives you a small smirk and moves closer to you, putting an arm around your waist to pull you against him so that there's absolutely no space between you. He dips his head to peck your lips then looks at you again.

"I feel bad.. For making you think that there was someone else."

You snort softly in disbelief.

"Although," he smirks. "You being jealous was so adorable."

You smack his chest. "I was not."

He hums sceptically. "Sure you weren't."

"I was not."

"Uh huh."

You glare at him, half-heartedly. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer to make you snuggle against him.

"Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Jungkook."

୨୧

The next evening comes quickly. Jungkook snuck out of your room early in the morning, making sure that nobody had seen him. Before leaving, he cradled your face in his hands and kissed you deep and desperately, asking you to unblock him and text him when you can. After he left, you felt a great sense of relief, but also missed him.

The rest of the day went by sprightly. You made yourself a delicious breakfast, you wrote and took a heavenly bath. Around six, your mother texted you, telling you to come by for dinner and to dress elegantly. You chose a beautiful outfit and got ready.

Soon, you're arriving at your family's estate, walking inside your childhood home to the dining room. When your mother sees you, she stands up and walks over to you.

"Sweetheart, there you are." she kisses your cheek before leading you to the table.

Your eyes wander over the scene before you. Your father sits at the table, across Mr Kim* and Mrs Kim, both of them looking sophisticated as always. And beside the, Sits a guy around your age.

He's tall, handsome, almost bewitching, you find yourself staring at him for a few seconds too long. You vaguely recognise him. He's Taehyung, heir of the Kims.

Your mother squeezes your waist gently and a little too enthusiastically. "Y/N, you remember the Kims?"

You nod politely, faking a smile.

"This," your mother says excitedly, "is their son, Taehyung. Taehyung, this is our daughter."

Taehyung stands. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly." he says, sounding rather amused.

"Likewise."

Your mother beams, looking between the two of you. "Why don't you sit, darling? Dinner's almost ready."

You nod and walk over to the table, taking a seat. Taehyung slides into the chair next to you and you catch the scent of his cologne, it's almost identical to Jungkook's, though you find Jungkook's much more preferable.

Your father clears his throat before raising his glass to make a toast. "To family and legacy."

Everyone raises their glasses and clinks together. Your mother waits until the clink fades, before she speaks.

"Sweetheart... we wanted to tell you this in person."

You stare at your mother with a poker face, though your awful suspicion grows. You want to throw up when your mother actually confirms your fear.

"Taehyung is your fiancé."

hii pookies, i worked so so so hard on this! i hope you guys enjoyed it🩷if you're interested, you can find part two on my patreon. either as a normal product — Best mistake 02 or on my membership tier — rkive (comes with other benefits, i will be posting everything on here first, along with extras in the future. feel free to check it out). also, ios users please try purchasing via the web to avoid paying extra fees. and once again, if you guys do support me, please know that i sincerely appreciate you <3

warnings – y/n's kinda emotional, mentions of period sex, possessive and kinda crazy jk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, mentions of oral, fingering, praising, jk makes out with her pussy, deep and rough sex, boob sucking, explicit language, i cannot mention a few things as it will spoil the story lol, but there's drama and a lot of cracking, etc...

wc – 11k+

[a-nyx-7]

Truth & Dare | Jk x Jm x Th x reader

A weekend over with your roommate's friends. A fun game to spice up the night and what could go wrong?

Pairing : JK x JM x TH x Reader

Warning : this one shot is full of smut with no plot. It contains Bi scenes, degradation, sex, double penetrating, spitting, eating out, body shots, foursome, blowjob, cumplay, squirting.

I suggest you to not read if you are not comfortable with above mentioned themes.

It was my first time writing multi smut shot :) this is purely smut and film of filthy smut. Read at your own risk. Not a great smut but my first try!

"Yaaa! Get some coke!" Jungkook yelled from the living room, his thumbs flying furiously over the controller as he played Call of Duty on the big screen with the guys.

Jungkook was your roommate. Because of that, you’d been introduced to his two best friends, Jimin and Taehyung, who practically lived at your apartment on the weekends. Over the past year, the four of you had grown incredibly close, and you genuinely loved having them around.

Jimin strolled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. The definition of a rich kid, he looked effortlessly expensive in a sleek black leather jacket. "Coke? On a weekend? Since when did Jungkook get so boring?"

You chuckled, pulling a bottle from the shelf. "Don't worry, we have alcohol."

A smirk played on Jimin’s lips as he slipped up behind you. "Wow," he murmured. He let his hand rest casually—and completely unnecessarily—on the curve of your lower hip, leaning over your shoulder to peer into the open refrigerator.

You just smirked back, playfully shoving him away. "Okay, that was definitely not needed."

It was always like this. The three of them never missed an opportunity to flirt with you. With Jungkook, though, things had already crossed a line. It started one night when he accidentally walked into your room while you were changing, and it had since evolved into a regular, no-strings-attached fucking sessions.

But Jimin and Taehyung? They remained a constant, tantalizing blur of playful touchiness and effortless charm, keeping you entirely on your toes.

Jimin shamelessly let his eyes trace your figure once more. You just rolled your eyes, a knowing smirk playing on your lips as you walked out of the kitchen. You had to admit it—you thrived on their attention, and they certainly knew how to give it.

As you plopped down onto the couch, Jungkook grabbed the can from your hand and pressed a casual, lingering kiss to your cheek.

"Whoa, hold on. Why does he get to touch you so freely?" Taehyung pointed out, his lips forming a dramatic, exaggerated pout.

Jungkook ignored him, shutting off the TV console with a heavy sigh. "Alright, what are we actually doing tonight? I’m bored of gaming, and if we put on another one of those boring-ass movies, we’re all just going to fall asleep."

Jimin sauntered over, settling into the empty space right next to you. "Let's play something. Board games?"

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back. "Boring."

A wicked grin spread across Jungkook's face. "How about Truth or Dare?"

That instantly caught everyone’s attention. Within a few minutes, the four of you were sitting in a tight circle on the living room rug, an empty glass bottle resting in the center.

"Just remember, this isn’t a PG-rated kids' game. Make sure you ask the good stuff," Jungkook warned, giving the bottle a sharp spin.

The glass whirled before finally slowing down, its neck pointing straight at Taehyung, who immediately let out a whine.

Sitting comfortably wedged between Jungkook and Jimin, you leaned forward, your eyes bright with excitement. "Truth or dare?!"

"Ugh... truth."

"You are so boring," Jimin muttered, rolling his eyes.

Jungkook leaned back on his hands, a reckless smirk on his face. "Okay. Have you ever sucked a dick?"

The question completely threw you off. Your eyes went wide as you looked back and forth between them. Wait... they were bi?

"Of course I have," Taehyung replied easily, shooting a playful wink across the circle.

Your cheeks instantly flushed, a sudden heat rushing to your face as the vivid image of Taehyung doing exactly that flashed through your mind. "Well... that is definitely new information for me.”

The bottle was spun once more, the glass whirring against the floor before it slowly grated to a halt. This time, the neck pointed straight at Jungkook.

He let out a excited giggle, the sound so infectious it made you laugh along with him.

"Dare," he said, his eyes glinting with a reckless smirk.

Jimin’s lips curled into a wicked grin. "Body shot."

Jungkook immediately shifted his gaze to you, his eyes dark and full of anticipation, clearly preparing to lean over you.

But Jimin wasn’t done. "On Taehyung."

You blinked, completely caught off guard. Taehyung didn't even hesitate. With a lazy smirk, he pulled his shirt completely over his head, tossing it aside before laying back flat on the living room rug. Your cheeks burned a fiery red. You couldn’t believe what you were about to witness.

Jungkook grabbed the bottle, uncapping it as he crawled over to Taehyung. He carefully poured a pool of the harsh liquid right over Taehyung’s sharply defined abs. Leaning down, Jungkook kept his eyes locked intensely on Taehyung’s face as he bent over his torso, slurping the alcohol straight off his skin.

You bit your bottom lip hard, a wave of pure excitement crashing over you. This was entirely new territory.

Jungkook dragged his tongue slowly across Taehyung’s stomach, collecting the last drops before finally pulling back and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You instinctively clenched your thighs together, a sudden, heavy ache settling low in your stomach. It was undeniably arousing.

Jungkook sauntered back to his spot, wearing a triumphant grin. "That was easy. Done it a million times."

The mental image alone made your breath catch in your throat, a quiet gasp nearly escaping your lips.

As the bottle was sent into another spin, the boys seemed entirely unbothered, acting completely normal as if they hadn't just set the room on fire. You, on the other hand, were left completely breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs as the tension in the room grew unbearable with every passing second.

"Okay! Y/n!" Jimin exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with sudden excitement.

You looked between the three boys, the sudden spotlight making your pulse race. Part of you was terrified of what they’d come up with, but the adrenaline got the better of you. "Dare."

The collective smirk that spread across their faces did nothing to calm your nerves.

"Come on, then," Taehyung said, his voice dropping into a husky, teasing register. "Give us a slow striptease."

Jungkook let out a low whistle. Even though he had seen your body countless times behind closed doors, the sheer thrill of the game always seemed to dial his excitement up to an eleven.

Slowly rising to your feet, you kept your eyes locked on theirs. You reached for the zipper of your top, undoing it with deliberate slowness before sliding the fabric off your shoulders, letting it drop to reveal your lacy bra.

Jimin hummed in deep approval, his gaze burning with satisfaction. Taehyung was openly drinking in every inch of your exposed skin, while Jungkook traced his eyes up and down your figure as if he were seeing you for the very first time.

As your top pooled around your feet, you reached for the button of your skirt, unfastening it and letting it slide down your hips.

"Matching panties?" Jimin teased, a playful glint in his eye.

"So sexy. I’ve honestly always imagined you looking exactly like this," Taehyung added, shamelessly admiring the view.

Any lingering nervousness you had quickly melted away as the game progressively turned spicier. With every spin of the bottle, more layers of clothing disappeared, and the dares grew increasingly bold.

"Come on, JK!" you whined softly a few rounds later, watching intently as Jungkook leaned in to kiss Jimin. Their lips clashed in a messy, passionate heat, hands tangling behind each other's necks. The sight was intoxicating. You tilted your head, watching Jungkook let out a low moan right into Jimin's mouth, their tongues tangling in a deep, slow rhythm. When Jungkook finally pulled back, breathing heavily, the tension in the room was palpable.

"God, that made me so hard. Look at her, she looks completely turned on too," Taehyung groaned, his hand casually resting over his jeans, which were already showing clear signs of arousal.

Jimin chuckled darkly. "Time to spin again!"

The bottle whirled on the floor and came to a halt, pointing right back at you. Driven by the heat of the room, you didn't hesitate. "Dare."

"Squirt on Jungkook's cock," Jimin commanded, leaning back on the couch with his legs casually spread, eager to watch.

Jungkook smirked, immediately pulling you closer. His tongue darted out to trace your bottom lip before he gently guided you down onto the floor, spreading your legs wide. He parted you slowly, letting out a low sigh as he noticed how incredibly slick and ready you already were.

"Jimin, fuck, do you see how wet she is?" Taehyung growled, shifting uncomfortably. "God, my cock actually hurts."

You gasped aloud as Jungkook began teasing your outer folds with feather-light touches, before his fingers found your clit, applying a slow, agonizingly perfect pinch. "Kook...."

Jungkook leaned down between your thighs, his tongue executing one long, deep stroke from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He began circling the sensitive bundle of nerves slowly, making you throw your head back against the floor.

"Gosh... this is so good to watch," Jimin moaned, his hand moving rhythmically over his own length through his pants as he watched Jungkook eat you out. "Does it feel good, Y/n? Getting licked while we all watch you?"

You could only answer with a broken moan as Jungkook continued to lap at you, his pace quickening repeatedly until a sudden wave of pleasure crashed over you, making you come right against his mouth. But he didn't stop there. He pressed his thumb firmly against your clit, rubbing through the hyper-sensitivity, overstimulating you until you screamed his name.

"God... I’m going to lose it just from watching," Taehyung growled. He reached out, pulling Jimin down closer toward him. "Fuck, Jimin, come here." Jimin complied easily, spitting on Taehyung's length before sliding him slowly into his mouth.

You watched them from the corner of your eye, a fresh wave of arousal hitting you at the sight of Jimin bobbing his head up and down while Taehyung thrust deeper into his mouth.

Jungkook kept up the pressure below, and your legs began to shake violently as a heavy squirt released from you. Jungkook quickly positioned himself right beneath you, ensuring all your slick juices coated his hard dick.

You let out a soft whine, your eyes still glued to Jimin's rhythmic movements.

"I’m gonna cum! Out!" Taehyung gasped out suddenly, pulling away from Jimin's mouth. He stepped over to where you lay, releasing his climax right across your stomach. Jimin chuckled, wiping his mouth as he looked down at you.

"She looks so incredibly sexy like this, doesn't she?" Jungkook asked, looking up from between your legs.

You lay completely undone on the floor, your own juices pooling beneath you while your stomach glistened with Taehyung's warmth.

"Let's put her to good use, hm? You're going to let us, right?" Taehyung murmured, patting your head gently before his fingers drifted down to pinch your nipples.

Jimin walked over, a dark, hungry look in his eyes as he stood over you. "I’ve always wanted to fuck her boobs.”

You let out a broken moan as Jimin teased you, lightly slapping his hard length against your lips. Once. Twice. Thrice. Completely driven by the heat in the room, you parted your lips, your tongue darting out instinctively, needy for a taste.

Jimin chuckled softly, glancing over at the other two, who were watching with dark, satisfied smirks. "So needy, hm? I want to fuck your boobs, baby. Don't worry, Jungkook will be more than happy to fill your mouth."

Shifting his position, Jimin aligned his dick right between your heavy breasts. A low, ragged sigh escaped his lips as he squeezed your breasts tightly together around his shaft. "Gosh..." he murmured, before he began sliding his length smoothly back and forth between them.

At the same time, Jungkook knelt by your head, his eyes dark with intent. "Open up."

Before you could even process his words, you let out a sharp gasp at a sudden, freezing sensation between your thighs. Taehyung had moved between your legs, tilting a bottle of whiskey over you. Your eyes rolled back as the ice-cold alcohol poured directly over your sensitive folds.

"Gonna drink some off you," he muttered darkly. He parted your folds with his fingers, leaning down to inhale the sharp scent of your arousal blended with the liquor, before plunging his tongue deep inside your entrance. Another wave of pure pleasure crashed over you, making your mind go completely fuzzy.

Your mouth, still open from the sharp gasps of pleasure, was suddenly filled as Jungkook pushed his thick, pulsing length inside. He groaned deeply, his hips rotating slowly as he adjusted to your heat. "So warm!"

You couldn't think straight. Your senses were entirely overwhelmed with Taehyung eating you out, Jungkook taking over your mouth, and Jimin riding the tight space between your breasts.

As your eyelids grew heavy, threatening to close from the sheer intensity of it all, Jungkook delivered a sharp, light slap to your cheek. "Open your eyes. Look at me."

He buckled his hips forward, pushing deeper into your throat and making you gag softly around him.

Jimin finally pulled away from your chest, leaning down further to press his lips against your breasts. He gave each nipple his full undivided attention, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peaks with a surprising, torturous gentleness.

"Ugh... Tae..." you moaned out, your voice a breathless rasp as you felt Taehyung’s tongue begin to stray lower, dangerously close to your ass.

Jungkook’s pace quickened until he let out a low growl, pulling out of your mouth just in time to release his climax across your face. "Fuck! Look at you. All drenched and dripping. Does it turn you on more?" he panted, breathless. You leaned up slightly, pressing a slow, messy kiss to his lips, your tongues tangling as he sucked on yours. But the distraction was short-lived; you whined into the kiss as Taehyung’s breath hit the sensitive skin of your backside.

"Gosh... this hole looks so tempting too," Taehyung muttered, his voice thick with desire.

Jimin reached down and pulled you up by your waist. Your knees were shaking violently, barely able to support your weight. "On all fours," Jungkook commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Jimin immediately laid flat on his back beneath you, guiding your body over his face. Your dripping center was positioned directly over his mouth, while your backside was raised high into the air.

Jungkook stepped up behind you, callously parting your cheeks to give Taehyung a perfect, unobstructed view. "A fucking tight hole."

Taehyung slowly ran his tongue up and down the seam, his own length practically throbbing with need. You whined loudly, your body aching for his tongue to center directly on your tightest knot of nerves.

Jimin didn't wait, reaching up to pull your hips down firmly, forcing your wetness flat against his face. You screamed out at the dual sensation as both men began lapping at you simultaneously. Jimin ate you out like a starving man, swallowing every drop of your juice, while Taehyung swirled his tongue deeply against your asshole, giving it his undivided attention.

Jungkook, unable to just sit back and watch anymore, moved to Taehyung’s side. He wrapped his hand around Taehyung’s throbbing cock, squeezing it firmly. Taehyung let out a sharp hiss at the sudden, intense friction.

"Fuck," Taehyung groaned directly against your skin, the deep vibration of his voice sending a literal shockwave straight through to your clit.

"God! Fuck!" you cried out, your dirty noises causing Jimin to hum in deep, vibration-heavy approval against your folds. You could hear Taehyung’s ragged moans echoing between every wet stroke of his tongue.

"I need... I need you guys inside... please..." you whined, your entire body trembling as your core pulsed with an unbearable, aching need to be filled.

Taehyung smirked, leaning back onto his hands. "I want to watch."

Jimin nodded in agreement, shifting his weight. He slowly positioned the heavy head of his length right against your dripping center, deliberately dragging it up and down against your hyper-sensitive clit.

"J–Jimin..." you gasped, your fingers clawing at the floor.

"She's so fucking sensitive!" Jungkook growled, his eyes wide and dark as he watched Jimin teasingly rub himself against your swollen folds.

"She is so wet and sloppy," Jimin commented, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips just before he delivered a sharp, stinging spank to your raised ass. The sudden heat made you jump.

"Just fuck her already," Taehyung urged, his voice tight.

Jimin didn't need to be told twice. He slowly sunk himself inside you, a string of breathless curses leaving his mouth as your slick warmth pulled him in instantly.

Beside Taehyung, Jungkook let out a low whimper at the sight.

You felt Jimin’s thick length stretch your walls beautifully, a sensation so intense it made your eyes roll back in pure bliss. Your mouth hung open in silent gasps as he began a slow, deliberate rhythm, pushing and pulling deeply in and out of your core, making you squirm helplessly against the slow, agonizing friction.

"Fuck," Jimin moaned, his bare chest slick with sweat as he picked up the pace.

Jungkook reached over, pulling Taehyung closer by his waist. He wrapped a single hand around both of their throbbing lengths, his grip gentle yet firm. Taehyung groaned, buckling his hips forward and grinding his shaft directly against Jungkook’s in a desperate search for friction.

You cried out in pleasure, the view of the two boys touching each other only heightening your own ecstasy. Jungkook moaned loudly, his head throwing back as he neared his limit. "Are we taking her together next?" Taehyung panted, leaning in to capture the youngest's lips in a wet, deep, open-mouthed kiss.

With a final, deep plunge, Jimin shuddered, releasing a thick wave of his climax deep inside your core. He pulled out slowly, but immediately pushed two fingers back inside you, deliberately stroking the walls to pack his warmth deep within you.

Taehyung broke the kiss with Jungkook and walked over, his eyes burning. "Time to take care of us, baby."

Jungkook leaned down toward the floor, wrapping his fingers into Jimin’s blonde hair and tilting his head back so he could hungrily suck on Jimin’s nipples. Jimin moaned loudly in response, arching his chest and pressing Jungkook's face closer against his skin.

Your core dripped heavily with a mix of Jimin’s cum and your own endless juices as you lay there, watching Jungkook eagerly worship Jimin's body.

But you weren't left waiting for long. Taehyung lined his hard length right against your tight backside, leaving your aching front completely open for Jungkook. You screamed aloud as Jimin crawled back up to your head, burying his face in your neck to plant a series of deep, marking bruises.

On a shared count, Jungkook and Taehyung pushed themselves slowly into your respective holes. Both of them let out a synchronous, ragged moan as they bottomed out inside you.

You completely lost control of your senses. The boundaries of your mind blurred entirely; you could no longer tell which dick belonged to whom, or whose lips were pressing against your skin. You only knew the incredible, overwhelming stretch of being completely filled to maximum capacity. Jimin kept his hands busy, aggressively massaging your breasts, kissing and sucking on the tight peaks like a starving man, while Taehyung ruthlessly fucked your ass and Jungkook pounded into your pussy.

"Ughhh!"

Your breathless screams only fueled their speed further. The living room was filled with the chaotic symphony of flesh slapping against flesh, deep, guttural groans, and ragged pants.

"I’m coming!" Taehyung suddenly groaned, his pace turning frantic before he abruptly pulled completely out of your backside.

Jimin didn't hesitate, immediately crawling over to Taehyung's twitching length, wrapping his lips around it and sucking him off with practiced ease. "Good boy," Taehyung complimented breathlessly, patting Jimin’s cheek as his hips twitched.

With one last, incredibly deep thrust that pinned you to the floor, Jungkook released his entire load deep inside your pussy. The intensity of it shattered you; you squirted violently right onto his stomach, your head thrown back against the rug as hot tears of pure overstimulation stained your cheeks.

Seconds later, Jimin pulled back, and Taehyung came heavily inside Jimin’s mouth, making the blonde moan in sheer ecstasy as he swallowed the thick release.

The rest of the night stretched out into a seamless, hazy blur of heat—each body eagerly taking turns sucking each other off, worshiping your skin, and ruthlessly stretching you out until none of you could move.

A/n : what was i thinking while writing this...? Idk.

[inthelow]

SMOKE SPRITE — jeon jungkook (4).

pairing: fem! reader x jeon jungkook

summary: You and Jungkook aren’t that close. You were supposedly be dating his best friend— then why is he about to fuck you in the back of his car?.

genre— warning!: literally porn with a little plot. mentions of cheating. fingering, oral sex (fem! rec), dry humping, pussyjob, cum eating (but not my usual type of cum eating hehe) unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, sub jungkook if u squint and maybe a bit of taekook if u think really hard… and probably more!!

author’s note: if u thought i couldn’t get nastier u were WRONG. posting part 4 after literally a year is kinda poetic sooo same time next year for part5?

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

Jungkook didn’t think of him as a strong willed man.

There’s wasn’t many thing he lost his mind over. He was patient, he was always good at everything he tried, and he was the kind of person who got bored easily. He worked hard, but talent and luck always seemed to be on his side, helping him achieve things. He always had a way of making things go his way, of making things fall into place exactly how he wanted them to. He was used to things going the way he expected, the way he needed, the way he wanted. Everything always went—

No, not everything.

tThere was one thing he couldn’t shake off so easily. There was one thing that wasn’t working out for him. One thing that was driving him insane. There was one thing he couldn’t get bored of, one thing he couldn’t get so easily, one thing he couldn’t have, but worse— one thing he shouldn’t want.

Jungkook knew he had some willpower, some control over his desires and wants. He could easily go on a diet and follow every strict restriction, he could easily stick to every workout routine, he could easily work his way up to a difficult note without warming up his voice. He could easily do a lot of things… but there was something that completely shattered every restriction.

You.

You just made his brain stop functioning. You made him go feral. Every moral, every ounce of control he had over his darkest and deepest desires broke apart immediately every time you were close, every time he thought about you. You had a way of playing with his mind without even realizing it. There must be something deeply wrong with him, it wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t reasonable the way he wanted you, the way his body ached for you.

Every bit self control, every will he had over his moral just went out of the window whenever he thought about you. You could just look at his direction and every speech he’d ever given himself about being a good man would shatter into pieces. You burned through his mind in a way he couldn’t understand.

He didn’t understand his feelings. He didn’t understand what was about you that made his brain work this way, digging up the darkest desires he never even had the courage to look at before. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was his ego. Maybe it was something carnal, something primitive.. He just knew he wanted you so badly it was becoming impossible for him to function properly.

He wanted to touch you again. He wanted to kiss your lips, to taste every corner of your mouth. He wanted to run his fingers over every inch of your body, he wanted to kiss and bite even the most hidden parts of you, the parts only he should get to see. And he wanted to be the only one. He wanted to be the only one to get you in his car, in his bed, in his kitchen, in his living room. Anywhere.

He just wanted to be the only one to hear those pretty noises you made, only for him. He wanted to be the only one to see your flushed face and that mischievous gaze you had every time you were burning hot. He wanted to be the only one to know the right places to touch you that made you roll your eyes and arch your back in pleasure… except, he couldn’t.

Taehyung was right there.

Taehyung, his best friend, probably doing all the things Jungkook wished he could do.

And he didn’t feel guilty at all for wanting you again, for wishing he was in Taehyung’s position. For even thinking his friend should see how much better he could be at taking care of you.

Jungkook knew he could, he would touch you in the right places, he wouldn’t let you go until you were too exhausted to even think about leaving him again. He wouldn’t let you be alone for one second, he would keep you busy, he would keep you full of him, you would be smelling and feeling him. That way nobody would come close to you, everybody would know you were his— clearly Taehyung wasn’t doing a good job if you kept coming back to him.

Well, not really coming.back to him… but at least not denying him

You had to want him the same way he wanted you, maybe in a less obsessive way… but there had to be some interest. Jungkook knew there had to be. He had made you feel good. He had kissed you and touched you in ways he was sure as hell his friend couldn’t. And even if he’d fucked up last time by acting like a jealous jerk, he couldn’t care less. He still wanted you. Even more than before. And he needed to find a way to be sure you still wanted him too.

Jungkook was throwing a party that same weekend.

It was too embarrassing and cringe to admit that he was so stubbornly looking for more excuses just to see you, but you hadn’t answered any of his texts for three days and he had already made up his mind that he had to see you at least one more time. He was already pathetic enough to beg for your attention if he had to resort to that.

Pathetic, very much so. But Jungkook had already been planning that party for a week, so the excuse was already there. He sent you a text, inviting you to the event. And after you didn’t answer—not to that message and not to the other twenty-four he sent—he decided to text Taehyung to invite him again, subtly telling him to bring you too.

Jungkook didn’t speak to Taehyung much during the week. He ignored most of his calls and texts asking to hang out, lying that he was busy with the party he was throwing. The truth was that Jungkook didn’t want to know if Taehyung had finally popped the question. If he had finally gotten the guts to tell you about his feelings and how badly he wanted you to be his. Or worse, Jungkook didn’t want to know if you had said yes.

The thought of you saying yes to belonging to another man after he kissed you and tasted every inch of you in his car hours before made his blood boil— but it also filled his chest with a strange sense of pride. The thought of your neck marked by his teeth, your lips swollen from his kisses, your face flushed from his doing, your your clit swollen by his touch, your cunt wet from his tongue, your body still carrying traces of him… it made him feel some type of way. Saying yes to another man after he had already made you his.

It made him chuckled a little.

How could you be with another man after that?. You would never be able to be completely his. In his eyes, you would never belong to Taehyung.

Jungkook realized way too early into the party that his plan sucked.

It was obvious you weren’t going to come. Why would you? Taehyung wasn’t the type of man to force you to go somewhere you didn’t want to be. Hell, even if he insisted, it wasn’t like you couldn’t just make something up. Say you were feeling sick or that you had to wake up early the next morning. You could come up with any excuse and Taehyung would believe it. Jungkook knew you were a good liar.

After all, you were lying to Taehyung’s face by not telling him you had almost fucked his best friend.

By the time people started arriving at the club, Jungkook had already checked the entrance more times than he could count. He hated every second you weren’t there, and with every passing minute he could feel his mood sinkin straight to hell. Every time the door opened, his eyes moved automatically, eery time somebody new walked in, there was a brief second where he thought maybe it was you. It never was.

Then Taehyung arrived, completely alone. And Jungkook knew his night was over.

He wasn’t with you and his friend didn’t look sad, heartbroken, or depressed at all.

Fucking hell.

“Where’s y/n?”

The question came out before he could stop himself. Jungkook was glad his friend didn’t notice the ulterior motive behind it. Taehyung just trusted him. He trusted his friend, Taehyung couldn’t even think or sense the idea of him trying to steal his girl. He didn’t know every thing Jungkook had donde with you, every thing he had done to you, every little thing he was waiting to do with you. If Taehyung could see Jungkook’s thoughts about you, he would realize how fucking sick he was. How his friend was a son of a bitch.

That was pretty fucked up, Jungkook knew that. And even knowing it, he didn’t care. He still was looking for you.

Taehyung shrugged. “She wasn’t really feeling like going out tonight.”

“Right.”

That was all. Taehyung didn’t give him any more explanation, not that Jungkook needed to know more. He was just an acquaintance to you anyway. There were no details, no information, and Jungkook nodded like he didn’t care because he didn’t want to ask more. Asking meant hearing answers he didn’t want to know. It meant hearing something he was already painfully aware of.

That maybe you and Taehyung…

“Want a drink?” He didn’t want to think about that.

A small smile appeared on his friend’s face as he looked around. “Please tell me you rented the bar too.”

“Of course, man.”

Jungkook walked with Taehyung to the counter to order some drinks, and the rest of the night felt unbearable after that.

A few minutes later, after getting Taehyung a drink and mixing him in with some other friends, Jungkook was already back to avoiding him under the excuse of hosting the event. He didn’t want to hear anything Taehyung had to say. Taehyung knew exactly why you weren’t there. You had probably told him some excuse, some lie.

Maybe the two of you had talked yesterday, maybe this morning. Shit, maybe five minutes ago. Maybe your messages were sitting right there on his phone.

Or worse, maybe he had been with you just before coming here. Maybe Taehyung had stopped by your place before the party, checking up on you, seeing if you were feeling better. Maybe he had touched your cheek, checked your temperature, asked if you needed anything since you never missed an opportunity to go out drinking.

Maybe his hand had lowered from your face to your tummy, maybe he had traced your clothes until he got to touch your skin under your shirt. Maybe his fingers had sink under your panties, maybe he had whispered sweet things to you, telling you how he was going to come back later again, maybe he had touch you in ways Jungkook had only dreamed of. And maybe you had enjoyed every part of it, maybe you had given him that look Jungkook loved, that mischievous gaze, that narrowed gaze—

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jungkook hated his mind. He hated those thoughts. You enjoying yourself with another man, you touching him the same you did with him. You making those pretty sounds, opening your mouth, asking Taehyung to kiss you with that pretty pout. The thought made something ugly twist in his stomach, he wanted to throw up so bad. He felt sick, so sick thinking his friend had the luck to have you that way.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out.”

Jungkook frowned immediately when he heard his friend’s voice.

“Already?”

It slipped out before he could stop himself. Taehyung smiled. “Yeah, man. I’m tired.”

Right. Jungkook stared at him for a second, trying to decide whether he believed him or not. The party wasn’t even close to ending. People were still arriving, the music was loud. Taehyung had been there for only two hours. Half of their friends were barely on their second drink. Leaving now was weird, specially since he knew Taehyung was kind the guys who liked a good party. And that night it was damn good one. You just weren’t here.

You weren’t here.

“Oh.”

Taehyung nodded. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Yeah.”

A small silence followed after they hugged.

Jungkook hated how quickly his mind started working. Where was he going? Home? He didn’t think so. Maybe he was going to see you. That thought appeared so naturally it almost made him sick. You were always showing up in his mind like a fucking fly he couldn’t shake. That made him going insane. Maybe you had texted Taehyung, telling him you were still up, that missed him. Maybe you wanted to see him and that’s why he was leaving.

Well fucking finally Taehyung was doing something to keep you happy. But Jungkook hated it was now that he was doing it.

Jungkook forced a smile and watched Taehyung disappear into the crowd. Then he immediately grabbed his drink. He knew exactly what was happening… nothing. Absolutely nothing. His brain was making shit up, that was all. He didn’t care about it, he shouldn’t care about it. His friend was just going home to rest. He was tired, that was it.

But then ten minutes passed and his brain was still making shit up. Twenty minutes and still making shit up.

He tried talking to people, he really tried to focus on the party and being a good host. Some dancer was telling him a story about something that happened last rehearsal and Jungkook nodded along, pretending to listen while his mind wandered somewhere else entirely.

Taehyung was probably already at your apartment if he had gone to see you. He was probably sitting on your couch… or your bed. Maybe you had opened the door with that smile you always had when you were amused by something, happy to see him. You probably had told him you weren’t in the mood to go out because you wanted to spend the night with him instead. Maybe you had been waiting for Taehyung, laying in bed, needing someone that wasn’t him…

Jungkook took another drink and then a second one… Maybe Taehyung had finally asked you, that’s why he looked so relaxed. That’s why you probably were ignoring every single one of Jungkook’s messages. There was no reason to answer anymore, you had already made up your mind that Taehyung was yours and you only wanted him.

His grip tightened around the glass. How he hated that thought, he hated so much. The worst thing, it was just a thought. Jungkook didn’t know anymore and that was the problem. He didn’t know anything and somehow not knowing was driving him crazier than the truth ever could.

Thirty seven minutes later and that was all he lasted. Thirty seven miserable minutes before he grabbed his keys and walked outside of the stupid big ass bar to the way to his car. People called his name as he walked past them trying to engaged in some conversation, he didn’t even bother to be nice and pretended to care, he didn’t even spare a look. He just kept moving.

The music became quieter behind him as he pushed through the exit and stepped outside. The night air hit his face and it didn’t help how a little dizzy he felt after those drinks. Nothing was really helping that night but he didn’t give a fuck anymore. He was desperate. He didn’t call a cab or his driver, he just started the engine and drove.

Twenty five minutes later he was pulling into your building parking lot.

Maybe he was insane… no, he was definitely insane. Sitting in his car past midnight after being ignored for an entire week because he couldn’t stop thinking about you, becausethe possibility of Taehyung being upstairs was enough to make him leave his own party. He was insanely pathetic and just overall insane, very insane.

Jungkook grabbed his phone and dial your number, there was no answer. He tried a second time but absolutely nothing. His jaw clenched and he hit the steering wheel feeling so frustrated and miserable. He opened your chat and his fingers moved before he could think better of it.

Jungkook: i’m in ur parking lot

Jungkook: i’ll knock your door if ure not awake

The message sent and Jungkook’s heart kicked painfully against his ribs. Not even twenty seconds passed before the “seen” was showed in the chat.

After all those days and messages you finally had the decency to even let him know you’ve read his text.

Not even five minutes later Jungkook saw you walked to his car. You recognize his car almost immediately and he tried to quickly fix his face while you walked to him. You were wearing a big oversized shirt that covered big part of your thighs and he didn’t know but was mostly sure you had some shorts underneath. Your hair was really wavy and a little messy, you had a strong hold on your phone. You were clearly not ready to go out and you didn’t really look the most amicable ever.

You actually were furious.

The moment you opened the door and entered his car he knew you were furious. You didn’t give him room to talk, you just straight up looked at him mad as hell, closing the door really loud.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

That was the first and last thing Jungkook listened. His body immediately reacting to see you again after a long stupid week of not being this close to you. You were saying things, words he couldn’t really put together. He only watched you. You looked so pretty like that, your little frown and your flushed cheeks. He wanted to kiss you so bad. Your big shirt had rolled up a little bit showing your naked legs, he could see the beginning of your lace shorts. He wanted to touch your glowing skin, there was a little bruise hidden there he wanted to touch—

A bruise.

Jungkook immediately looked up at you again. His eyes scanning your face to examine you again. Your flushed face. It wasn’t because you were angry. Your lips were swollen, pink. Your eyes a little glossy. His eyes went lowered, your neck had a little mark right down your ear, something it could be immediately recognizable as a hickey. As someone who wanted to leave a mark. Leave it there to show you were from someone, that you belonged…

“Taehyung is upstairs?”

The question left his mouth before he could really process it. But honestly, he didn’t really care because he wanted to know. He needed to know, his hand immediately gripped the steering wheel, the thought of you with Taehyung just minutes ago made his heart beat faster and his blood boil in rage.

Was he even touching you the way you wanted?

“Wha— Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” You were mad. And he knew that his question only made it worse. “You need to stop whatever this behaviour is. I told you it was over—”

“Is it?”

You closed your mouth. A dead silence filled the car as you stared at him confused.

“What?”

“Is it over?”

“Yes,” you shook your head, a little taken aback. “Yes. No, no actually there’s nothing to be over because we never…”

“Don’t lie,” Jungkook chuckled but he wasn’t really having it. “Don’t lie. You can’t just lie to my face and tell me there was nothing because I know you feel—”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off, taking a deep breath and trying to hold yourself together.

“It’s just—”

“It’s over.” You said, more calmer than before. Not trying to fight anymore but making him understand. “Whatever we were doing… it was wrong. It needs to be over. Taehyung is your best friend and this is so fucked up.”

Jungkook looked at the window, thinking about your words. You were right. You were absolutely fucking right… But why? Why did it feel so good if it was wrong? Why did he had to stop? It was greedy, it was selfish. But he didn’t want to let you go just yet. He couldn’t shake the thought of you with him and he definitely didn’t want you with his friend.

So why? Why did he had to stop? Because of a moral thing? Fuck that. Jungkook would go to hell and live there a million years if it meant he could have you one more time.

“Then why does it feel so good?” Jungkook moved closer, his leg hit the gear stick but he still hovered you, looking directly at your eyes. “Tell me why every time I’m trying to be a fucking good friend and stay away I just keep thinking about you over and over again.” His hand positioned in your hip, fingers burying in your clothed skin. His face came closer but you didn’t look away. “I’m sorry but I really tried and I just— I can’t— I’m sorry, I can’t. I was— I’m sorry, I’m s’rry.”

Jungkook face dropped to your neck and you looked to the side trying to fight him a little. Jungkook felt so bad, trying to win some sympathy, some empathy for you to let him touch you. Because if playing the big man wasn’t working then begging had to, pity had to work. He just needed to touch you, he would do anything.

Anything you wanted, anything you let him do. Even if it was just watching you, even if it was just kissing you, he wanted to be close to you, he wanted to engrave every part of you in his mind. He wanted you so bad it made his head spin in so many wrong ways.

“Jungkook, this isn’t right.”

“I know— I’m sorry…” His lips found your neck, his tongue swirling over that mark someone else had left on you. He wanted to erase it, or make it worse, make it his. “Please just let me… Just this last time I swear I just—”

“Tae is upstairs.”

Jungkook stopped.

It took him a second before he moved his head from your neck to looked at you. You blinked at him a little uncomfortable, fighting really hard before his dark gaze. Jungkook felt his jaw tightened and his heart ache a little.

Why?

His gaze lowered to your legs, that little bruise you had in there. His hand immediately moved to there, opening your thighs to look at that stupid hickey that motherfucker left on your skin. His eyes moving to your core. That black lace short doing almost nothing to hide that little wet spot you had there. It fucked him a little knowing you weren’t soaked because of him. Fuck, that probably wasn’t even you.

“He touched you?”

“We fucked.”

You weren’t nice about it. You weren’t afraid of hurting his feelings— not like you knew he has some for you, not even he did— but he didn’t like the way your tone was hard, like you were letting him know exactly what had happened in hopes he would just move on from whatever little fixation he had over you.

Oh you should’ve know better.

“Did he touch you better than me?”

But Jungkook already knew you had a tongue made of fire.

“He fucked me.”

That was all you needed to say. Jungkook hadn’t fucked you, he wasn’t able to. He had dreamed of touching you in those places, he actually begged you to do it. But you never let him, you never let him go that far… but you did with Taehyung. You had let Taehyung fucked you. You had let him do the thing Jungkook wanted the most.

“Was he good?”

“You’re fucked up, Jungkook.”

He knows. He knew he shouldn’t be so upset about all this, but he is. He knew that he couldn’t ask you things like that but he does. Because he can’t stop himself to feel some control when he’s with you. You made his mind stop working and just focus on you.

And it’s with a sense of shame that he swallows his jealousy down and accepts he’ll do whatever it takes to show you he can fuck you better.

Whatever the fuck it takes.

In less than two seconds, Jungkook pulls the lever under your seat so he can push it back, giving him room to move between your legs until he’s kneeling there in that cramped little space; even so, he congratulates himself for bringing his big pickup truck instead of his sports car.

“What are you—?”

“I can do better, let me show you,” Jungkook said, dropping his head between your thighs. He kissed up your thighs, biting slightly without breaking eye contact. “Please”

“Taehyung just—”

“I don’t care,” Jungkook doesn’t want to know, he just wants to show you he was so much better. He wanted to keep your mind out of his friend’s presence. He wanted to show you he was so much better, you just needed to let him touch you for fucking once. You look troubled, at that made him see his opening. “Please, let me just taste you. I can be good. I’ll be so good for you just let me show you.” Jungkook got closer to your core, ghosting his lips over your heat and blinking up at you. “I swear, just this. Then I’ll behave. I— I can be so good. I swear I’ll be soo good to you.” He gave a gentle kiss to your thigh again and rubbed his thumbs, soothingly across your skin.

“You’ll behave?” your voice was lower. Your eyes narrowed, looking at him like you were already bored.

“Yes, yes, yes, please I—”

“You never behave, Jungkook. Just look at you, begging for something you shouldn’t have.”

“Please,” he said again, easing his hands up and down your thighs. Jungkook didn’t have any shame, not anymore. He would begged a thousand times if it meant you would let him buried his head between your legs.

You looked at him. At he finally found that spark in your eyes he saw the first time he kissed you in the back of his car.

Shit, he got you.

“Alright,” you finally opened your legs a little wider for him. “Lick me clean.”

Oh.

Jungkook was fucked in the head. He was sure of that, and he just confirmed that thought to himself when he realize he didn’t care cleaning you up if he meant he got the opportunity to taste you and touch you. He would do fucking anything.

And he didn’t give a fuck. He would clean Taehyung’s cum out of your pussy if he had to.

Jungkook immediately took your shorts off before he started licking your cunt over your panties, tongue working adamantly against you like he was scared to do it wrong or poorly. Fuck, he felt like had been waiting an eternity to have you again like that. His excitement going through the roof, cock getting hard so quickly.

Jungkook wrapped his lips around your clothed clit and sucked a little too hard. Swiping his tongue across your bud. He focused on pleasuring you, repeating any little action that made your legs twitch a little. He wanted to be more gentle and take his time, but he knew he only had that much with you before you were running away again.

So he quickly took off your panties, putting your feet over the seat so he could see your soaked pussy better. So wet and still leaking some of Taehyung’s cum. Jungkook hates that sight, he doesn’t want you dripping of someone else. So he makes his mission to lick you clean before making you full of himself.

You threw your head back on the car seat when you felt Jungkook lick a long strip from your leaking hole to your puffy clit, slurping and moaning into your slick skin, that cold piercing on the side of his mouth. rubbing your labia like so gently it made your toes curl.His hands grabbed onto each of your thighs to wrap them tightly around his head, gripping your legs until his rings left imprints in your skin. his warm tongue pressed deeper inside your cunt, sloppily lapping up the leftover mess inside of you.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, feeling his cock twitch under his pants. God, this was heaven, he could eat you for hours.

Your fingers curled into in his hair, grabbing it with strength before making him go deeper with his tongue. That pulled a moan from his mouth. “Mmh, yeah— use me” he slurred against your drenched folds.

Jungkook knew he was being dramatically loud eating you out. Loud whiny sound as he licked your puffy pussy, but he didn’t care. He loved the way you were pushing his head to your sensitive heat and practically begging for some more. Your back arched off the seat when he rolled his tongue around the bundle of nerves before sucking harshly.

“S-shit, Kook. Ngh, s’good. I’m gonna—”

He pulled away, replacing his mouth with his fingers rubbing quickly against you. “Not yet, baby. Have to get it all out.” Jungkook curled his fingers and scooped the rest of the cum in you out on his tongue.

Your next words trail off into a syrupy moan when you see his nasty doings. You body shuddering when his thick fingers stretch your gummy walls and you clenched tighter around them. His finger ran wildly over your clit, desperation oozing off of him.

“Jungkook—” You whined and he swallow that sound, so pretty. “S’close…” He immediately stopped. “No, no, no—”

Jungkook moved to be on top of you, pulling the other lever to make the seat dropped down until it hit the back seat. You lay there, watching him making his way on top of you to kiss you. His dirty fingers grabbing your jaw to guide the kiss, his tongue licking every part of your mouth so you could taste yourself and so he could engrave you in his mind.

“Wanna cum?”

“Mmmh.”

His free hand slid again between your legs. You were bare underneath and he loved how much easily he could just open you for himself. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself between your legs again, his big hard cock inside your pussy. He was salivating at that thought.

You whimpered, hips twitching as two thick fingers pushed inside you in one smooth motion. The stretch made you gasp, your walls still tender and sensitive from what you were doing upstairs with his best friend. Jungkook curled his fingers slowly, stroking that spongy spot deep inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, firm circles. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark next to the one you already had, teeth grazing your skin as he worked you open.

He wished Taehyung found it after. He really hoped he did. Maybe he would let you go and Jungkook could finally have you all to himself.

His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filling the car. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure even as your thighs shook. Jungkook tried not to smirk, eyes gleaming with lust as he watched you squirm.

He brought his glistening fingers up between you, holding them in front of your face so you could see how wet they were, coated in your slick right up to his knuckles. “Open,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

“Mmh,” you obeyed, parting your lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself as you sucked them clean, tongue swirling around them obediently. His eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he watched you.

“You can tell me I’m fucked,” Jungkook said, voice too low against your throat. “But we both know the truth. You’re the same as me. You like when I touch you like this. When I have you to myself.” He bite down lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue. “Let me touch you properly now. I swear I’ll do good for you.” He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and leaned in, kissing you deeply, tasting you again.

You gazed at him, too fucked up to even think properly. But even like that you had rejected him before, and he’s afraid you will do it again so he kisses you dumb again. Mouth eating yours before he’s opening more your legs to positioned himself better between them.

Jungkook can’t wait to be inside you. He can’t wait to see how you feel. Fuck, he didn’t want you to think, he only wanted you to feel him, to let him show you how good he could be for you, how once he can have you he will never let you go again.

One time. One time his ass. If you were willing to open your pretty legs for him and having him pushing his cock inside you he was never getting over you. He wondered if he’ll get to hear any new noises from you or if he’ll feel your body tremble and quake in different ways. He liked to imagine your cunt sucking him in so deep, just begging for his load, His cock twitched with excitement at those thoughts.

He doesn’t give you more time to think or talk and before you know it he’s already unbuckling his jeans and pushing them down with his underwear. His thick cock jumping and hitting his abs, hard and the head already leaking, begging for you.

And a second latter he’s pushing your legs up and folding your knees toward your chest. The position left you completely exposed and he starts rubbing the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating every thick inch in your slick. He teased your swollen clit with every slow pass, tapping it lightly until your hips jerked and you let out a needy whimper.

He could come from just that, he’s so sure of that. But doesn’t want to, he needs to stay stronger, a little more, just for you, he just wants to be inside you so bad. He wants to cry at that. He already has the speech for you to let him fuck you. Jungkook swears he can be perfect, he’ll fuck you the way you wanted. He’ll do everything and more. He could overstimulate himself if you don’t have enough. He’ll keep you full, ready to be fucked again and again as much as you want.

Hitching one of your legs up and over his hip, Jungkook planted a hand beside your head as he took the lead, rocking his hips between your thighs, watching his cock pump between your swollen pussy lips. He hummed in satisfaction, cock kicking as your eyelashes fluttered, eyes rolling back as he maintained that pace.

“Feel s’good,” Jungkook moaned in your mouth, kissing your lips softly like he wanted you to remember every touch of his. “Can I put it— Let me— please just let me— I swear I can be good…”

Jungkook couldn’t form a coherent phrase, cock feeling too good rubbing against you. But fuck he was dying to be inside you.

And there was a shift. You pushed him slightly, hands making him pulled apart as you rolled slightly to give him space.

“Let me be on top.”

Jungkook could come from just that.

In less than a second he’s lying down in the seat while you get on top of him, legs on each side of his hips before you start grinding down on his cock again. Jungkook’s hips buck up to meet your grinds, moans falling from both of you as your clit bumps against his tip. You parted your legs wider and rubbed down again and again, breath growing choppy and voiceless with every roll of your bundle of nerves over his cock head.

And then he feels himself short-circuiting. When you grabbed his cock to jerk it off before aligning to your entrance. He felt like he could cry.

Holy shit.

You were letting him, you were finally letting him be inside you. You got his tip inside you, and he was already gathering his breath trying not to burst from the feeling. He was going to come so fast it was almost embarrassing.

You slowly move and Jungkook starts making more noise than you do as you sink onto him. Jungkook closed his eyes, thinking how that’s everything he had dreamed of since the first time you kissed him. And instead of making him relaxed and feel fulfilled it just makes him go more feral and insane. It leaves whimpering and eyes watering at the thought that it was perfect. He had wanted this for so long, wanted you for so long. He couldn’t believe he’s finally getting you

And you stay bottomed out for a minute, letting yourself get used to the stretch, grinding your hips every now and then to hear him whine. You liked his little sounds, he noticed that by the way you get fucking. tighter around him. And that makes him feel better because he wants to show you how bad he wants you. how pathetic he is for you.

“P-please, I— please just, mmh, move for me.” He begged desperately. He held your hips, firm and strong, groaning when you get impossibly tighter around him for a second. “Holy shit, fuck. Mmh, fuck.”

You started moving, getting needier for your release. Jungkook kept whining as you bounce on his cock, throwing his head back and dropping his mouth open. He felt in fucking heaven. This must be it. He could just die right there and he would go happily. He didn’t need more in life. Blinded by the pleasure for a second, he thought he saw his entire future with you where he got to have you like that but not more sneaky around, fully his, fully able to kiss you and touch you in any place and room he wanted.

He could only dream that much when reality hit so hard. But at least he could show you, he could show you how good he was and how he could give you everything you asked. He could do anything for you.

Maybe you weren’t really his but he felt closer to you than ever. It excited him knowing that he finally got his way with you. All the thoughts running through his mind begged him to make you feel good, to give you exactly what you want for letting him have you, for giving him exactly what he wanted too. You.

Grabbing handfuls off your ass, he used it as leverage to ground you down on his cock and after that you could barely keep up. Hands gripping at his shoulders, nails trying not to leave a mark. Jungkook kissed you again, this time moving his hips up to meet yours until he find the perfect spot and pace to keep you moaning so sweetly for him.

Jungkook finally knew what true desperation felt like. He wanted nothing more in the world to make you feel good and make himself feel useful to you. No other feeling has he experienced so strongly as the need to have you cumming undone on his cock

You gasped when you felt his fingers on your clit, playing with the bud with endless need. Even when he bit his lip, some small noises kept spilling out of him. He just couldn’t hide how much he wanted you.

He started pulling out slowly with his mouth on yours, letting his cock drag through your walls and memorizing every inch. He eased himself back in, drinking up your noises eagerly before slapping his hips hard against yours, earning a delicious moan from you that has his mouth dropping open in awe, throwing his head back to the seat, fighting to not cry from pleasure. He could devour you whole right now. He was willing to spent an eternity deep inside you like that if you only let him.

“S’close, Jungkook,” You whined his name. “Fuck, s’good I’m gonna cum—”

“Fuck, p-please, yes, please. Yes, come for me. Make a mess for me, baby.” He started rubbing your clit faster, angrily. “Nghh, I’ll lick it clean again. Don’t worry— just-just make a mess for me. Cream on my cock.”

Jungkook felt your walls squeezing him harder. He moaned in your neck, you were sucking him so hard it was too much. He pinched your clit desperately, helping you find your release. And with that it didn’t take you too long.

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, your nails scrapped his shoulder, your mouth parting to moan loudly near his ear. You closed your eyes, walls closing so hard and your juices coating his cock. Your vision went blurry, your breathing uneven. Your thighs burning like hell. You broke apart in his arms and Jungkook was only able to last one second longer after seeing the way you creamed all over him.

Nothing will ever be the same ever again.

Jungkook’s cock twitched inside you with one last thrust. His eyes rolled back, his hands gripping your skin as he heard your whimper. That hit his final straw. His forehead hit your shoulder as he felt succumbing to the sweet release. He came undone, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy cunt and spurting down onto your thighs.

He didn’t stop though, he continued moving his hips until his thighs muscles started shaking and his dick started twitching inside you. He wanted to keep him cum inside you, he wanted you full of his. He wanted you so full nobody could clean you from all the mess he made inside you.

Tears started forming in his eyes from overstimulation as he didn’t want the moment to end. It was you who finally dropped all your weight over him to make him stop completely.

Jungkook held you in his arms. He pressed some kisses against your neck as your head rested on his shoulder, completely fucking exhausted. And he knew he’ll never be the same after this. He’ll touch himself for the rest of his life remembering that exact moment.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“Taehyung asked me to be his girlfriend.”

Maybe he was wrong, you could belong to Taehyung.

—————————————————

ngl i didn’t edit shit but i literally changed most of the plot for this part and added that last part of them fucking cause it just felt like the right time<3 so if u see any mistakes well yes that happens >_< anyway i think i can actually close the story here but lowkey i do wanna write one last part just to really make an ending hehe but we’ll see

same time next year?

taglist: @bhonbhon @nctma15 @songbyeonkim @mrspotatas @kae143 @ttanniett @emmie2308 @rrosiitas @kooklovesu @sublimeoperapatrolpickle @haru-jiminn @inhoswifee @hennessysthings @zzzdr @kookieouch @jk97bam @gcfseouls @suavaecitas-blog @gaby-93 @mysteriousgeminizone @wishicouldmeethoseok @topforsure @sugaholicddict93 @mortqlprojections @army7-013 @girlyminmin03 @gucci-soo @lachesismoonmist @laylay7ot @freakingsad @cherrysoulthreblogs @kissyfacekoo @bangzlut @mariporaqui @soju4shi @sigxx123 @melanymeeli @jjklvrapobangpo7 @gebsaxx @cherryminnie95 @curiouslykeenvanguard @kg0626 @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @baby-girl-spooks @iviesstuff

(this taglsit was before i did my perm taglist so if i tagged u 2 times sorry im just too lazy to check>_<)

[ggukiebar]

sacred desire | j.jk

pairing: priest jungkook x sinful reader

word count: 20.6k

genre: smut

summary: desperate to see if a man devoted to god will unravel, you test his faith with your sweet, deceptive innocence—seducing fr. jeon until his devotion no longer belongs to god…but to you.

warnings: priest jungkook x sinful reader, explicit sexual content, forbidden relationship, candle wax play, rosary choking, edging, clit rubbing, filthy sexual desires, spitting, degradation, mock sympathy, pussy eating, condescending dirty talk, blow job, cum eating, usage of whore & slut, praising, cum eating, m. masturbation, manipulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Temptation, they said, was the devil's favorite weapon…subtle, patient, and often disguised as something beautiful.

Your beauty was the kind that invited sin. Like a priceless painting in a museum, admired by many but forbidden to touch, existing only to test the restraint of those who stood before it.

Yet despite the effect you seemed to have on everyone else, Fr. Jeon remained frustratingly untouched by it all. Men had always looked twice, their attention lingering long enough to make their interest known. But his eyes never lingered on you. They would meet yours for a fleeting moment before moving on, calm and unwavering, carrying the same gentle warmth they offered every soul that walked through the church doors.

Pathetic.

Wearing a long white virginal skirt, a matching conservative blouse, and your hair falling neatly down your waist, you grabbed your purse before heading downstairs to meet Sana.

“Glad you finally wore something decent,” Sana commented with a sheepish smile when she saw you stepping out of your house.

You pouted, looking down at the modest skirt fluttering around your ankles. “My cute dresses are decent too, you know.”

You weren’t a very religious person, but when your friend Sana told you she wanted to join the church choir, you were more than happy to come with her. 

Between the two of you, she was the religious one—always carrying a small pocket bible in her purse, always reminding you to watch your words and actions because God was watching.

A lot of your friends were confused about how the two of you became so close. You were playful, rebellious, and bratty—more of a bad influence beside someone so polite and devout. But despite your mischievous nature, you were very sweet, friendly and charming. At university, you were one of the popular students, with plenty of friends and a reputation as a social butterfly.

When you first met Sana, you hadn’t expected the two of you to get along. She was a new student, still adjusting to the unfamiliar environment and trying to find her place among the other students. Being the friendly social butterfly that you were, you became the first person to approach her.

Your personalities couldn’t have been more different. Sana was calm, reserved, and quiet, while you were bold, bright, and loud. 

Despite being complete opposites, the two of you grew unexpectedly close. You liked Sana because she was a breath of fresh air. Her calmness grounded the chaos within you, while your playfulness brought balance and excitement to her peaceful life.

Ever since you became best friends, you often accompanied her to church. Although you looked somewhat out of place trailing behind her while she helped with various church duties, volunteer work, and parish activities...you still enjoyed spending time with her.

You liked how she always listened to your rants and endless rambles. Following her around while she busied herself carrying boxes and helping wherever she could, your kitten heels clicked softly against the church’s marbled floors, and the longest dress you could find in your closet swayed gently with every step. As unusual as it felt to be dressed so modestly, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed these moments with Sana.

Your usual style of dressing didn’t exactly align with the church’s dress code… you had to trade your short skirts, midriff-baring tops, tight dresses, and cute spaghetti-strap tops for something more... demure.

At first, you tried to argue against it, but Sana quickly reminded you that those clothes weren’t appropriate for church. And of course, you had no choice but to listen unless you wanted another lecture about being a poor instrument of the Lord.

“Since when did you become a singer?” you teased as the two of you entered the church alongside a few parishioners and choir members.

Sana was dressed similarly to you, wearing a long skirt paired with a flowy long-sleeved blouse. In her right hand, she carried a small booklet filled with choir songs.

She pouted. “I can sing a bit, you know.” she opened the booklet and flipped through its pages. “As long as I’m serving the Lord, then no voice shall sound bad.”

You chuckled, already accustomed to her holy little remarks.

“If you say so,” you sang back playfully, following her up to the choir loft. You offered a polite smile to the other choir members, who were already busy practicing.

Since you weren’t actually there to join the choir, you let Sana focus on rehearsal while you wandered around the church on your own. Normally, you would have spent the entire time chatting her ear off, rambling about anything and everything, but today you let her concentrate.

A few parishioners were arranging fresh flowers around the framed images of saints, while others carefully dusted and polished the statues lining the church walls. The distant voices of the choir drifted through the air, blending with the soft murmur of prayers and quiet conversations, creating a peaceful atmosphere that settled gently around you.

When Sana first invited you to come with her to church, you had agreed out of nothing more than curiosity. You traded your usual weekend night outs for sunday mass, wanting to see the world through her eyes and understand why this place, with its quiet prayers and solemn rituals, meant so much to her.

The church offered a kind of quiet that rarely existed in your everyday life. Away from crowded parties, endless conversations, and the glittering chaos of your social circle, there was something unexpectedly comforting about this place. It gave you a chance to slow down, to breathe, and to simply exist without needing to be the loudest person in the room.

“Good morning, Fr. Jeon.” a few choir members and parishioners greeted.

You turned around absentmindedly, your head tilting curiously when you saw a priest entering through one of the church's side doors. Dressed in a long black cassock, he offered everyone a warm smile and a slight bow as he stepped inside.

A new priest?

“Are you here for the charity blessing, Fr. Jeon?” someone asked.

The woman approached him and received a gentle pat on the head in return.

He smiled. “Yes, I stopped by to gather a few materials for the blessing.”

Your head tilted slightly as you watched him, finding yourself taking an unconscious step forward.

A handsome fucking priest.

For the past few months that you'd been spending time at the church with Sana, this was the first time you'd seen him, and unfortunately for your soul, he was ridiculously attractive. 

You found yourself shamelessly staring, almost in awe as he greeted everyone with effortless kindness. 

He bowed politely, acknowledged each person with a warm smile, and listened attentively whenever someone spoke to him. It should've been a crime for a priest to be that good-looking. 

Sinful.

The long black cassock he wore looked attractively sinful wrapped around someone so impossibly holy, the stark contrast only making him harder to ignore. His sharp jawline became more pronounced whenever he turned to greet someone with a kind smile, and a pair of thin-framed glasses rested neatly on his nose, lending him an air of quiet intelligence that did absolutely nothing to help your situation. His eyes were dark and warm behind the lenses, attentive whenever he listened to someone speak, and his jet-black hair was styled neatly, though a few stubborn strands had fallen across his forehead. 

Everything about him looked composed, dignified, and entirely inappropriate for the thoughts currently running through your head.

You almost let out a dramatic gasp when Fr. Jeon finally waved his goodbye and turned to leave. A curse nearly slipped from your lips as you watched him make his way toward the church doors. 

Everyone else had managed to greet him and earn one of his warm smiles, some even receiving a fond pat on the head. Meanwhile, you had spent the entire time standing near the altar, staring at him like an absolute creep, too mesmerized by his existence.

Internally rolling your eyes at yourself and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, you watched him disappear through the church doors. And then, because apparently your dignity had already left the building before he did, you immediately made your way back to Sana, who was still busy practicing her choir lines.

“So...” you began, trailing behind Sana as she walked around with her booklet, quietly memorizing her choir pieces.

“Is Fr. Jeon a real priest?”

Sana lowered the booklet and stared at you, her brows knitting together as she caught the suspicious wiggle of your eyebrows.

“Huh?”

“I mean...” you hesitated. “Is he a real priest or, like… an intern priest?”

The moment the words left your mouth, you realized how stupid they sounded. 

Was there even such a thing as a priest internship?

Sana blinked. Then she burst out laughing. “He's a real priest, Y/N. What do you mean, intern priest?”

Your cheeks immediately warmed. You looked away while she continued laughing, lifting the booklet back up as you followed after her.

You pouted. “Well... he looks young.” And hot. “And I've never seen him before. Every time I've attended mass with you, he wasn't the presider.”

You tried to think back to the past few months but came up empty. No handsome priests. Because if there had been one, you definitely would've remembered.

In fact, you were pretty sure you would've started sitting in the front row.

“Yeah, because he only got appointed recently,” Sana answered, her attention back on the booklet. “A few months ago, I think.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, almost groaning when you haven’t met him before he got appointed. 

What the fuck, Y/N. Are you seriously eyeing a priest?

Absolutely not. That was...unholy!

For the following weeks, you found yourself clinging to Sana more than usual.

At first, you convinced yourself it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Going to church with her wasn't exactly new. 

You just weren't nearly as consistent as she was.

There were plenty of sundays you skipped altogether, choosing late nights with your friends over early mornings in church. Besides, you figured there would always be another mass to attend, while convincing Sana to show up at one of your parties was practically impossible.

That was why you never attended as regularly as she did.

Lately, however, the situation seemed to have reversed. Now, you were the one volunteering to come.

Party invitations sat unanswered in your messages. Night outs were declined without hesitation. Instead, you found yourself asking Sana about choir practice, church activities, and whether she planned on volunteering for any upcoming events.

It was becoming a little concerning.

Wearing one of your now-usual long skirts and a modest blouse approved by church standards, you applied an extra layer of lip gloss in front of your mirror. Excitement bubbled inside you as you remembered what Sana had told you earlier that week—a charity event was coming up, and the church needed volunteers to help organize donations.

There had been plenty of charity events before, many of which you had skipped. Sana would usually spend the entire day helping sort donations and assisting the parishioners, leaving little time for the two of you to actually spend together. As much as you enjoyed tagging along with her, wandering around the church by yourself for hours wasn't exactly appealing.

This time, however, you were genuinely excited to come.

It wasn't as though you couldn't visit the church on your own. Nobody would stop you if you decided to drop by one afternoon.

The problem was that it would be… strange.

Ever since you started coming to church, it had always been because of Sana. Everyone knew you as her friend, not as someone particularly devoted to the church.

If you suddenly started showing up by yourself every weekend, people would notice. You weren't exactly known for your devotion. 

Especially when the answer involved a certain priest.

It was already strange enough that you were beginning to resemble a devoted Christian.

False piety.

When you arrived at the church, your heartbeat picked up immediately. Volunteers moved in and out of the building carrying boxes and supplies, conversations blending into a lively hum that filled the grounds.

“You can help with the boxes, Y/N. I'll just talk to the choir members,” Sana said with a smile.

You nodded a little too eagerly, grateful she didn’t question your sudden burst of interest in coming with her to church. It helped that you had accompanied her before—enough for it to not feel completely out of the blue.

“Okay! I'll help with the boxes!” you smiled brightly.

The moment Sana wandered off to join the other choir members, you immediately began looking around for ways to help.

“Let me carry those,” you offered with a bright smile, reaching for a volunteer struggling with a stack of old toy boxes meant for donation.

The woman thanked you and asked if you could bring them outside, where a small truck was parked to collect everything.

You happily agreed.

“I hope he comes today,” you muttered under your breath as you carried the boxes toward the truck, your eyes drifting toward the church entrance every few seconds.

According to Sana, Fr. Jeon frequently stopped by to check on donation drives, visit the parish office, or help coordinate volunteer work.

You had already carried nine boxes, then… ten. With every trip back and forth, you found yourself slowly losing hope that Fr. Jeon would show up at all. You were starting to regret wearing your cutest pink skirt today, and the growing disappointment was beginning to settle in alongside your irritation.

Just as you were about to accept that all your effort had been wasted, Fr. Jeon finally appeared, walking into the church hall.

Your eyes widened.

“Fuck—” you immediately winced, biting your lip the moment the word escaped. Mentally apologizing for cursing inside the church.

With a fresh box of donations balanced in your arms, you hurried toward the entrance, trying your best to look useful, helpful and responsible. Like the kind of person who volunteered here regularly and wasn't secretly waiting for your handsome priest to show up.

Your heart hammered against your ribs when he finally glanced in your direction.

“Good day,” he greeted with a smile and a polite nod, raising his right hand to gently pat your head.

Your cheeks immediately flushed, almost dropping the boxes when he touched you.

He patted my head!

Today, he was dressed in a fitted black long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into black slacks, a simple brown cross necklace resting against his chest. His jet-black hair was styled neatly away from his face, exposing a heart-shaped forehead that made him look unfairly handsome. He wore his usual pair of glasses, the thin frames resting on the bridge of his nose and softening the sharpness of his features. Behind the lenses, his round eyes looked steady and attentive, always observant, as if he noticed everything without ever needing to say so. 

Goodness gracious.

Your gaze drifted lower, almost shamelessly staring…only to pause on his right hand.

You frowned slightly, you wanted to take a longer look, but his sleeves hid the rest of his arms from view, making it impossible to tell how far they extended.

Was that a tattoo?

For some reason, that discovery stunned you more than it should have. Priests and tattoos weren't exactly a combination you'd ever imagined together.

You were so distracted staring at his hand that you didn't realize he had already walked past you and moved on to greet the other volunteers.

You didn't even greet him back! Oh God.

Panic immediately settled in your chest. Adjusting your grip on the donation box, you hurried after him, determined to salvage the interaction somehow. You just needed a reason to talk to him. 

A simple religious question, maybe?

Unfortunately, your brain had chosen this exact moment to stop working.

You couldn't exactly walk up to him and ask if priests were allowed to have tattoos. Nor could you suddenly start quoting bible verses when the majority of your religious knowledge came from Sana lecturing you every other week.

You wanted to sound natural and virginal.

The problem was that you had absolutely no idea how to start a holy conversation without sounding fake about it, like you were trying too hard to be someone you weren’t.

When you saw him entering the church office, you frowned and stomped your foot against the floor in irritation.

Pity.

You were a bit disappointed when his gaze didn’t even linger on you. You were used to boys in college always noticing you…showing their interest, getting swayed by your pretty face and charming personality. But here, inside the church, you were nothing more than another kind volunteer in his eyes—someone he greeted with the same calm respect he gave everyone else.

Importunate.

At this point, it had become a routine. You would come to church with Sana after school, grateful she had joined the choir because it gave you an excuse to be there almost every day instead of only on weekends.

While she attended rehearsals, you spent your afternoons helping with volunteer work and assisting the parishioners...all while discreetly searching the church grounds for your future boyfriend.

You even started dressing for it—slipping into the most “virginal” outfits your closet could offer in hopes of blending in. Long skirts, conservative blouses, dresses that covered everything they possibly could. It was almost laughable how much effort you put into looking like the perfect church girl, when a few months ago you would’ve rather died than be seen in half of these outfits.

The worst part was that it wasn't even guaranteed to work.

There were days when your timing simply didn't align. You would arrive at the church only to hear that Fr. Jeon had already stopped by earlier, or spend the afternoon helping around the parish before finding out he had come and gone while you were busy elsewhere. Sometimes you would leave just before he arrived, missing him by mere minutes.

You would come home without seeing even a glimpse of him, staring at your ceiling later that night and wondering why you felt so deflated over someone you barely knew. 

Then there were the good days—when your schedules happened to align and you finally saw him. Your eyes would immediately light up the moment you spotted him across the church grounds, your smile growing brighter despite your attempts to act normal, your cheeks burning whenever he greeted you with that gentle smile and absentminded pat on the head.

Transgression.

At first, seeing him had been enough. Now, however, you found yourself expecting more. Not much...just a conversation that lasted longer than a few seconds. Something beyond charity drives, donation boxes, retreats, and volunteer work.

But Fr. Jeon was frustratingly...polite.

He greeted everyone with the same kindness, smiled at everyone with the same warmth, and spoke to everyone with the same respectful attentiveness. Whenever you managed to stand near him long enough for a conversation, he would ask about the charity, the donations, the volunteers, or whatever church event happened to be coming up next. 

The discussion always remained firmly within the boundaries of church matters, and before you knew it, he would excuse himself to continue helping elsewhere.

You couldn't even ask him anything personal. Every question that came to mind sounded ridiculous the moment you imagined saying it out loud. Are those tattoos real? How old are you? Why are you so handsome for a priest? 

None of them exactly sounded appropriate for church conversation.

So you remained stuck in this strange little cycle of yours, coming to church almost everyday with hopes far bigger than the interactions you actually received. And despite how ridiculous it felt, despite how much you scolded yourself for it, the highlight of your day was still that brief smile and the weight of his hand resting atop your head for a few seconds.

Shameful.

A shame that you had never actually talked to him. 

Not beyond a few good afternoons exchanged in passing and the occasional greeting whenever your paths crossed around the church. 

You didn't want to be too bold, afraid that he would notice your embarrassingly obvious attempts to get his attention. As someone who wasn't particularly religious, you found yourself in an absurd predicament. 

Should you start reading the bible? Memorize a few scriptures? Learn enough about church teachings to hold an intelligent conversation with him? 

The fact that you were even considering studying scripture just to impress a priest made you question every life decision that had led you to this point.

You wanted his eyes to linger on you. Wanted him to look at you a little longer than everyone else. Wanted to feel special in some way. But every time your gaze met his, he would simply smile and move on, his attention never staying in one place for too long. 

Sometimes you wondered if the only thing capable of holding his complete devotion was God himself.

Which was unfortunate for you. Because you were used to being noticed.

You were pretty, and you knew it. Attention had always come easily to you, yet the one man whose attention you wanted most remained completely out of reach.

A man who was distant, unattainable, and forbidden in every possible sense of the word.

Standing in front of your mirror that afternoon, you smoothed down your floral dress and examined your reflection one last time. The modest dress fell neatly against your figure, paired with white kitten heels that made you look far more innocent than you actually were. You dabbed a little extra blush onto your cheeks before adding a touch more glitter to your eyelids, your excitement growing as you remembered what Sana had told you earlier that week.

Fr. Jeon would be presiding over today's mass.

It would be the first mass of his that you would be attending, and as you stared at yourself in the mirror, unable to stop smiling, you realized your excitement felt dangerously close to the kind of anticipation one would have before a date.

Sana had noticed that you were coming with her far more often nowadays, but being as naive and obedient as she was, she only took it as a good sign. In her eyes, your heart was simply getting closer to God, closer to faith, closer to something pure and meaningful.

Closer to Fr. Jeon, rather.

“You look excited,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling when you mentioned wanting to sit in the front row. The thought only made her happier, convinced that your devotion was finally deepening in the way she had always hoped for you.

Oh, you were devoted. 

“Excited for the Mass, you know,” you replied with a small giggle, clasping your hands together as if to sell the image. “Wonder what bible chapter will be discussed today.”

Of course you were gonna listen, be a good little church girl and have your eyes and attention to him.

Your eyes were practically shining when you stepped into the church, making a beeline for the front row without hesitation. You sat down shamelessly, smoothing your skirt as if you had done this every sunday of your life.

Sana only smiled at your eagerness, completely oblivious to the fact that your decision had nothing to do with spiritual focus and everything to do with proximity. Sitting at the front felt less like devotion and more like VIP seating for the sole purpose of seeing Fr. Jeon up close.

When the bell finally rang, the entire church rose to its feet. Your heart kicked up immediately as the sacristans entered in procession, one of them carrying a smoking thurible that swung gently with each step. And right at the center of it all was him.

Your future boyfriend.

Your lips parted slightly, eyes widening as Fr. Jeon walked slowly down the nave with calm, deliberate steps. His hands were clasped together in front of him in prayer, and he wore the full liturgical vestments—a long white linen robe beneath a green chasuble, a thin stole draped over his shoulders, and a cincture tied neatly at his waist. The fabric moved softly as he walked, making him look almost unreal under the church lights, like something out of a painting you weren’t supposed to stare at for too long.

He greeted people with gentle smiles along the way, bowing his head politely, even pausing to pat a few children on the head as he passed the pews.

By the time he reached the altar, your attention was fully locked in. 

Disingenuous.

You nodded a little too eagerly when responses were required, your voice coming out brighter than necessary during the choir parts, as if enthusiasm alone could prove your devotion. Every time he spoke, your focus sharpened, hanging onto his words a little too intently, even when you were supposed to be blending in with the rest of the congregation.

He was wearing his usual pair of glasses, slowly turning the pages of the bible with precise, practiced movements. His voice was steady and clear as he read, each word delivered with a calm authority that made it clear this role suited him completely. There was nothing rushed about him, nothing uncertain.. only a quiet certainty in the way he stood at the altar, as if it had always belonged to him.

By now, you had started mirroring him without even realizing it. Whenever he closed his eyes to say the prayers, you would close yours too, hands folded a little tighter than necessary, breathing in sync with the rhythm of the mass.

You were fucking crazy.

When it was time for the holy communion, you stood up almost too quickly, your heart thudding loudly in your chest as you joined the line forming in the aisle. Each step forward felt heavier than it should have, not because of the sacrament itself, but because of who was waiting near the altar.

“Are you alright?” Sana commented quietly when she noticed your flushed expression after the bell rang.

You let out a small, awkward laugh and instinctively smoothed down your long hair, trying to compose yourself. “Just thinking about my prayers,” you said lightly, as if that explanation made any sense at all.

She gasped, like you were really serious about your prayers, when all you could think about was—

He’s gonna feed me the host!

You were almost sweating as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the moment inch closer with every step in the line. Sana’s voice was still beside you, something about God always listening and having faith in his timing, but her words barely registered anymore. Your mind was elsewhere entirely, stuck on the growing realization that you were seconds away from facing him directly.

Preparing your hands in a prayer position, your brain almost short-circuited when you finally faced him, his right tatted hand holding the host up for you.

“The Body of Christ,” he said in a soft tone, almost detached in its reverence.

You wanted him to recognize you—the obedient good girl who always volunteered at the church. But fuck, he was too absorbed in God and the communion.

Your lips parted. “Amen…”

When he finally fed you the host, you almost choked when you felt the slight, accidental brush of his index finger against your lips as he withdrew his hand. You were left completely flustered, while he remained composed and focused on the ritual, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on you.

To you, it felt intimate. 

To him, it was simply the Eucharist…a sacred duty, a practiced motion repeated countless times.

When you returned to your seat and lowered yourself to kneel again, you pressed your hands together a little too tightly. In your head, you immediately apologized to God for every impure thought, questionable intention, and shameless moment you had done.

Then, without even a full second of self-reflection, you proceeded to ask if he could somehow let you be a little closer to Fr. Jeon.

Your priorities were clearly a work in progress.

“Sana, are you gonna visit the church this week?” you asked with a small smile, falling into your usual habit of checking with her.

For the past few weeks, your afternoons and weekends had quietly reshaped themselves around her schedule. 

It had become something strangely comforting… helping wherever you could, spending hours in a place that once felt unfamiliar but was now slowly turning into routine.

But of course, you couldn’t deny that recently, there was another reason woven into it too.

“Nope,” Sana replied as she hugged her books closer to her chest. “I have to study this week. Finals are coming up, and I still have a chemistry exam to review for before vacation starts.”

You groaned softly and walked beside her as the two of you left the campus. “Then why don’t we just stop by for a bit? To pray for good grades?” you suggested, lifting a brow as if it was the most logical solution in the world.

Please. Please. Please agree with me.

Sana pouted, clearly considering it for a moment, and your heart almost stopped in anticipation. Then she shook her head slowly, and your excitement deflated instantly.

“You’re right,” she said gently, “but it’s a long test, Y/N. I need to review all week. God would understand.”

She smiled softly and slipped her arm through yours. “Let’s just pray at home and do the rosary before reviewing.”

You forced a small smile, though your shoulders sagged slightly at the realization. It wasn’t just a missed church visit—it was a missed chance, even if you kept telling yourself it wasn’t supposed to be about that.

Sure, you would probably still see Fr. Jeon at sunday mass. He was the new presider in the city now, after all.

But it still wasn’t the same.

You almost groaned when you found yourself at the church that saturday morning. You were wearing a cream-colored dress, kitten heels, and a rosary necklace you had recently bought for the sole purpose of impressing Fr. Jeon. You had no idea whether he would even notice it, but in your mind, it felt like the kind of thing a good church girl would wear.

Preposterous.

Sashaying your way inside, you took in the usual parishioners and volunteers already busy arranging boxes for the charity drive.

You bit your lip. This was your first time visiting the church without Sana. Still, as you walked in, you were relieved when a few volunteers recognized you.

Thank God and all the saints.

You smiled and bent down to help with the boxes, already familiar with the routine—carrying them to the truck, sorting old clothes and toys, or helping with the lists.

If any of your uni friends saw you here alone, they would be completely confused. Without Sana, your sudden appearance at church would make absolutely no sense.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon.” someone greeted, and your ears immediately perked up. You turned just in time to see him entering the church halls in his usual black long sleeves and slacks.

You were only on your third box today! He was early!

Your lips curled into a small, excited smile as you instinctively stepped closer, box still in hand, already anticipating the familiar greeting and gentle pat on the head.

“Good day,” he said as expected, offering a polite nod before his hand lifted to pat your head.

Your eyelashes fluttered.

But instead of letting him move on to greet the others…for the first time in the past few weeks, you actually gathered the courage to stop him.

“Uh, Fr. Jeon?” you called softly just as he was about to turn away.

He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Yes, sweetheart?”

Jesus– God in heaven.

Your cheeks instantly reddened at the nickname, fingers tightening around the box. Still, you forced yourself to breathe, and finally blurted out the question you had been rehearsing all night.

“Just wondering if you have any c-chapter recommendations? I’m currently reading the bible and I don’t know where to start,” you said shyly.

There was a brief flicker of pleasant surprise on his face, quietly impressed that you were asking about the bible in the first place. It wasn't often that someone approached him with genuine curiosity about scripture.

He was about to answer when, suddenly…his attention shifted.

His gaze drifted downward, landing on the rosary hanging around your neck—the small cross resting between your breasts.

His lips pursed. “Sweetheart…rosaries are not meant to be worn as necklaces,” he chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on the rosary before looking back at you.

Your eyes widened. “I-It’s not…?” you asked, your ears and neck already heating in embarrassment.

Fuck. You didn’t know that! 

Fr. Jeon exhaled gently. “It’s a prayer tool,” he explained, his tone patient and calm. “Meant to be held in the hands… used in prayer, not displayed like jewelry.”

You blinked. “I-I didn’t know,” you admitted quickly, almost defensively. “I just really… like rosaries.”

Deception.

Fr. Jeon sighed softly, then lifted a hand to gently pat your head. “It’s okay…if you want, you can still wear rosary bracelets.” he offered you a small, reassuring smile.

You almost melted at his kindness. “R-Right, that would be better,” you said shyly, barely keeping yourself together.

He chuckled softly at your reaction, adjusting his glasses before finally returning to your original question. “If you’re reading the bible,” he added at last, “start with the gospels. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.”

You nodded quickly, smiling up at him as he returned a warm, genuine smile of his own.

“Noted, Fr. Jeon.” you smiled, unconsciously stepping a little closer. “...Uhm, d-do you have a bible in your office, Father?” you asked shyly, doing your best to sound innocent and academically curious. 

The moment the question left your mouth, you almost mentally slapped yourself.

Of course he has a bible in his office!

You opened your mouth, ready to rephrase the question, to save yourself from the embarrassment of sounding so foolish—but Fr. Jeon answered before you could.

“I do have a few bible collections in my office…would you like to see them?” Fr. Jeon offered, gesturing gently toward the church office.

You dropped the boxes. “Oh, my-”

Your plan actually worked!

Your eyes widened in horror. Mortified, you immediately bent down to pick them up, only to find Fr. Jeon already reaching for them.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he chuckled softly, lifting the boxes with ease as if they weighed nothing. “Let me carry these.”

“S-Sorry, it was kinda heavy,” you reasoned out, your neck already turning red. You still couldn’t believe you were actually having a full conversation with him.

And now he was even taking you to his office!

The Lord had truly answered your prayers.

With a polite smile, Fr. Jeon handed the boxes to the truck before gesturing for you to follow him toward the office.

“I can let you borrow a few scriptures if you’d like. I have the new version of the bible—would you want that?” Fr. Jeon asked as he reached into his pocket for his office keys.

You nodded immediately, hands clasping together behind your back. “Uh, yeah. That would be heavenly!”

Heavenly? For Christ’s sake, Y/N.

Fr. Jeon only smiled at that, unlocking and opening the office door as if he were letting you step into a space you had no right to be so excited about.

Pious.

You had done your research last night—it had been difficult since he was such a private person, but you had managed to learn a few things.

Fr. Jeon had been ordained only six months ago and was now officially assigned as the priest of your city’s parish, something you were embarrassingly looking forward to.

He was twenty-eight. He had studied arts before eventually pursuing theology. There were only a handful of photos of him online…mostly seminarian group pictures, a few formal ones where he wasn’t wearing his usual cassock, though he was always in long sleeves.

You had even found one rare image where he had rolled his sleeve slightly during a group photo, revealing part of a tattoo on his arm beneath a white long-sleeve shirt and a cross necklace.

“Fuck… he’s hiding all that under his sleeves?” you had muttered to yourself last night, squinting at the screen and trying to find more…only to realize there was barely anything else. No social media, no casual photos, nothing.

“Take a seat here. I’ll get the books for you,” Fr. Jeon said now, smiling as he gestured toward the small couch in front of his desk.

You nodded and sat down obediently, trying very hard to look like a good parish girl. 

His office was quiet and orderly in a way that immediately made you straighten your posture. The walls were lined with wooden bookshelves filled with thick religious texts, bible editions, theological commentaries, and neatly stacked parish documents. A simple desk sat against one side, organized and uncluttered, with a few folders, a pen holder, and a small lamp.

In the center of the room, mounted on the wall above the desk, hung a large crucifix—christ on the cross—watching over everything in silent stillness. The soft light from the window fell across it gently, making the entire room feel even more solemn, almost sacred.

Yet your thoughts were nowhere near sacred. You were here to attempt a very dangerous, carnal sin.

Seduction.

Masked in your perfect good-girl appearance, wondering if you could crack that unshakable composure he wore so effortlessly—if you could make his calm, holy restraint finally slip.

You slowly stood up from the couch while his back remained turned, focused on his bible scriptures. Your head tilted slightly as you tried to make it look as innocent as possible…to enter his space without revealing your true, sinful intentions.

“Fr. Jeon,” you called softly, standing too close behind him.

You needed to converse, to interact with him, to get him interested—to show him how much you adored God as much as he did.

“Hmm?” He didn’t glance at you, still focused on the scriptures.

You pouted, slowly taking a peek at what he was doing. “I was wondering if I could just read the bible here instead of borrowing it….” you attempted softly. “That way, if there’s something I don’t understand… I can ask you about it right away.” you said in a sweet, suggestive tone.

Fr. Jeon glanced at you, subtly stepping back when he realized you were right behind him, your vanilla scent brushing his senses.

He paused for a moment, looking into your hopeful eyes. 

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, a small smile appearing on his face. “That's actually a good idea. Understanding scripture is easier when you can discuss it with someone. If I'm here, feel free to ask me anything you're confused about.”

Providence.

You smiled brightly, feeling your relationship with him finally take another step forward.

“That would be great! Thank you, Fr. Jeon,” you said, tilting your head and giving him one of your most charming smiles.

It was absurd.

After your finals, you were granted a two-month semestral break, and instead of using that time to party, travel with friends, or go on night outs, you had spent nearly all of it at the church. 

Sana, unfortunately, never questioned your growing interest. She was too kind to question your faith.

Over the next few weeks, your afternoons were spent in the parish office, reading scripture, flipping through commentaries, and waiting for the familiar sound of the office door opening.

During those weeks, you managed to have a few small talks with him whenever he stopped by. You learned that he visited the church every day…sometimes to pray, sometimes to help with ongoing charity work, hear confessions, or simply check on the church office before moving on to his next responsibility.

Hearing about his schedule made you quietly adjust your own, ensuring you arrived at the office around 3 p.m.—the time he usually came in to check mails and paperwork at his office.

Today, you were wearing a baby blue dress that flowed nicely around your ankles, trimmed with delicate lace at the hem. Your hair was tied in a half ponytail with a blue ribbon, your makeup subtle, and your kitten heels matching the softness of your outfit.

Sana didn’t come with you every day anymore—she had other “holy” activities outside the church, like charity visits, helping at retreat houses, touring other churches, and even climbing mountains to visit shrines and statues. 

You had politely declined most of those invitations, telling her you found comfort in staying within your church’s city.

Disingenuous.

The rhythm between you had become almost routine. You would come to the office in the afternoons, sit down with a bible, and quietly read while asking him occasional questions whenever something didn’t make sense. 

Fr. Jeon would remain at his desk, either going through papers or reading his own scripture in silence. The room would stay mostly quiet, filled with the soft turning of pages and the steady presence of his focus, as if the world outside didn’t quite reach either of you in that space.

Sometimes you would try to steer the conversation a little further, testing small openings beyond scripture, but it always naturally circled back to the same things—bible passages, God, charity work, church matters… anything within that same unspoken boundary of the holy.

Yet, that alone felt like a privilege—being allowed into the quiet rhythm of his office, as if you belonged there too.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon. I brought some snacks for you,” you said with a smile as you entered the church’s office.

As usual, he was sitting at his desk, wearing his framed glasses while reading some papers.

You walked toward him and held up a small box of cookies you had gladly baked. “I made these…kind of like a thank-you gift for letting me stay here in the office,” you said proudly.

During your free time, you had spent the entire afternoon baking cookies for Fr. Jeon, thinking it would be a nice thank-you gift for him. At first, you had even wanted to decorate them with cute frosting faces of Jesus, convinced it would make you look extra devoted in his eyes.

Unfortunately, after staring at your frosting bag for ten minutes, you realized it might look a little too....performative.

So, with great reluctance, you abandoned your tiny Jesus-face cookie idea and settled for regular chocolate chip cookies instead.

The result sat neatly inside the box you now held out to him, carefully packed and decorated with far more effort than necessary.

Fr. Jeon looked at the cookies, his head tilting slightly when he noticed the box was covered in heart stickers. A soft smile formed on his lips, quietly touched by your kindness.

“That’s very kind of you, sweetheart.” he said softly, taking the box before looking up at you from his swivel chair. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Your cheeks flushed, making you feel like a schoolgirl finally noticed by your crush.

“No worries, Fr. Jeon… besides, I really like reading the bible here! it feels comforting,” you said, leaning in slightly as if to emphasize your point. “And thank you… you really help me understand it better when I get confused,” you added softly, fluttering your lashes at him.

He blinked slowly, clearly caught off guard by your sweet smile and the way you leaned in, his usual composure faltering for a brief moment as he paused.

“No...no problem sweetheart.” he said with a small smile. “I’m… glad you find comfort here. God will always find a way to comfort our souls.”

You smiled sheepishly and sat down on the small couch in front of his desk. “Hmm, I know…I always pray whenever I’m overwhelmed, somehow talking to God really helps me.” you said thoughtfully, even if you had only learned those kinds of phrases from Sana.

Fr. Jeon nodded quietly, he didn’t expect you to be this devoted.

You were very pure, kind, and charming. He had always noticed you volunteering at the church with your friend Sana—you would help with the boxes, sit around during her choir sessions, sometimes simply sit in the pew as if the presence of the church alone was enough for you.

It wasn’t hard to notice you. You were pretty and graceful, always smiling at everyone, carrying a soft, composed presence whenever he saw you at the church in your long skirts and modest blouses—like a quiet image of devotion itself. 

Despite that, his eyes never lingered. 

Always composed, always measured…because anything longer than a passing glance felt like something he shouldn’t allow himself.

Ever since you asked him about the bible that day, he had been quietly amazed. Nowadays, very few people showed genuine interest in scripture, let alone someone your age. 

Seeing your devotion—or what he believed was devotion…filled him with a warmth he hadn't expected. It was rare to meet someone so eager to learn more about God.

What he didn't realize was that your sweet, holy little plan had been working all along.

And what you didn't realize was that your sweetness, your smiles, your carefully built innocence—had been working from the very beginning.

You were so focused on the fact that his eyes never lingered, so convinced that he remained untouched by your presence, that you failed to see the subtle effect you had already left behind.

“What do you do during your free time, Fr. Jeon?” you asked casually one friday afternoon, trying your best to sound merely curious rather than interested. 

You had spent weeks keeping your questions safely within the boundaries of scripture. Careful not to reveal how badly you wanted to know the man behind the collar. 

So you kept your tone light and innocent, as though it were nothing more than a harmless question that had happened to cross your mind.

Fr. Jeon's head tilted slightly. He was sitting across from you at the small coffee table inside his office, a bible resting in his hands just like yours. 

“I visit charities,” he answered lightly. “I usually stay there for a while and spend time with the children.” a fond smile crossed his face at the memory.

Your lips parted. Oh! still religious.

“How about you, sweetheart?” Fr. Jeon asked.

You quickly searched for a suitably holy answer. “Umm, I-I sometimes climb mountains to visit shrines and blessed statues,” you said, biting your lip as you recalled one of Sana's favorite religious activities.

Fr. Jeon nodded thoughtfully, visibly impressed…his expression softening as if genuinely moved that you spent your free time in service of the Lord.

“What a good girl you are,” he said softly. 

His eyes lifted to meet yours for a brief moment—just long enough to make your heart stumble…before he looked away first, a small smile forming on his lips that he quickly hid as he lowered his gaze back to the bible.

Your lips parted slightly, warmth rushing to your cheeks at the compliment.

Good girl. Oh to be called his good girl.

Even though Sana had been busy lately with her other holy activities, you didn't mind attending mass alone. In fact, you were more than happy sitting in the front row. 

Your eyes would sparkle whenever Fr. Jeon spoke, your heart thumping whenever his gaze swept across the congregation and briefly met yours.

It always felt like a small victory, as though he was finally acknowledging you, finally noticing you.

“The Body of Christ.” Fr. Jeon held up the host.

“Amen,” you replied softly.

Unlike before, however, his gaze briefly lowered to meet yours. It lasted only a moment, accompanied by a small smile, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Enthralled.

Little by little, the distance between you seemed to shrink. The walls around him no longer felt quite as impenetrable as they once had.

Overtime, you had finally managed to crack through the edges of his usual reserve. What started as strictly scripture and charity talk had slowly, almost imperceptibly, begun to shift into something more personal. 

You learned how he first became interested in the priesthood, how his mother had served in the church, and how deeply devoted his family was to their faith. You even found the courage to ask about his tattoos, discovering they came from his love for art long before he pursued theology.

In return, you had shared little pieces of yourself as well—your hobbies, your favorite things, your likes and dislikes. Of course, you were careful to sprinkle in a little extra holiness whenever you could, always eager to impress him and maintain the image he seemed to have of you.

Fr. Jeon enjoyed your presence. It was refreshing to converse with someone who seemed to share the same interest and devotion that he held so dearly.

As the weeks passed, he found himself quietly looking forward to your visits, anticipating the familiar sound of your voice drifting into his office each afternoon. After all, you had always been naturally playful and talkative, and somehow… your constant babbling had become a welcome part of his routine.

It had been a month since you started spending your afternoons in his office. Upon entering, you found him sitting at the coffee table instead of his desk. Scattered across the table were several small boxes in different colors.

Curious, you stepped inside, your usual box of homemade cookies in hand—the same kind you brought him every week.

“What’s that, Fr. Jeon?” you asked, taking a seat across from him and placing the cookies on the table.

Fr. Jeon looked up and smiled. “When's your birthday, sweetheart?”

You blinked, a question that was out of the blue—like you were on a date, and he was casually getting to know you.

Your cheeks immediately flushed, you told him your birth date, unable to hide the slight confusion in your voice.

Fr. Jeon nodded thoughtfully before reaching for one of the small boxes on the table.

There were twelve of them in total, each a different color. Pink, purple, green, blue, yellow, and several others.

“This would be your birthstone color then,” he said with a fond smile, handing you the box that matched your birth month.

Confused, you picked up the box and slowly opened it.

A small rosary bracelet rested inside.

Your heart began thumping so loudly you could hear it in your ears as you remembered the conversation from weeks ago…when he had gently corrected you and told you that rosaries weren't meant to be worn as necklaces.

“T-This is for me?” you asked, eyes wide and sparkling.

Fr. Jeon smiled softly. “Yes, sweetheart. I didn't know your birthday, so I bought all twelve colors,” he admitted with a small chuckle, glancing at the remaining boxes on the table.

It was such a simple gift, yet your heart fluttered stupidly in your chest. Somehow, this meant more than the flowers, chocolates, teddy bears, and expensive jewelry your admirers had given you before.

Before you could stop yourself, you rose from your seat and threw your arms around him.

Fr. Jeon froze in surprise, his eyes widened as you suddenly closed the distance between you. The force of the hug nearly made him lose his balance in the chair as your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

“Thank you, Fr. Jeon...so sweet of you.” you murmured, overwhelmed with happiness.

He gulped harshly. It had been a long time since he had been touched by a woman.

Not accidentally in a crowded place. Not a polite handshake after mass. Not a brief greeting exchanged out of courtesy.

A long time.

His heart raced against his ribs as your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Your hot breath fanned softly against his collar, carrying the familiar scent of vanilla that had become impossible for him not to recognize. The closeness was overwhelming in a way he hadn't expected, making him painfully aware of how little physical affection existed in his life.

His hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before gripping the edge of the table instead. Every instinct told him to return the gesture, to place a comforting hand against your back and reassure you, but he remained still, forcing himself to hold onto his composure.

“You're welcome, sweetheart.” Fr. Jeon rasped, his voice coming out rougher than usual.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled brightly and sat back down in your chair, immediately slipping the bracelet onto your wrist.

Meanwhile, he remained frozen for a moment, trying to swallow away the lingering awareness of your closeness. The warmth of your embrace, your breath against his collar, the brief press of your breasts against him.

The hug had been innocent, sweet and harmless.

Which only made it worse.

Because he had no reason to be affected by it at all. He found himself quietly unsettled by the fact that he had needed to restrain himself in a moment that should have been nothing more than simple gratitude.

Temptation.

The next day, you proudly wore the rosary bracelet he had given you. You had even chosen a dress that matched its color, complete with a ribbon in your hair to tie everything together.

When you entered his office, you found Fr. Jeon standing by the bookshelves, a scripture in one hand. His glasses rested low on his nose as he read through a passage.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon,” you greeted happily, practically sashaying toward him.

His attention lifted from the page.

Immediately, you raised your wrist and showed off the bracelet. “Look,” you said with a grin.

Fr. Jeon glanced down, you were already twirling in place, eager to show him how the bracelet matched your dress.

Pretty.

The thought came so naturally that he frowned at himself.

“Good day, Y/N.” he replied, forcing his attention away from the observation.

You smiled brightly and wriggled your wrist. “I matched the bracelet with my dress and ribbon, see?”

Turning in a small circle again, you proudly showed off the entire outfit.

Fr. Jeon watched for a brief moment before lowering his gaze. Lately, he had become far too aware of things he shouldn't be noticing.

How pretty you looked whenever you walked into his office, how your face lit up whenever you talked to him, how easily your excitement filled the room.

Even your long dresses—soft fabric falling gently to your ankles, lace details tracing along the edges…began to feel distracting in a way he could not fully explain or justify. 

Turning innocent things into distractions. The modesty that should have protected his thoughts was beginning to have the opposite effect, making him painfully aware of the woman hidden beneath layers of fabric and lace.

Perhaps it was because it had been so long since he had allowed himself to be this close to a woman. Years spent in seminaries, rectories, church offices, and ministry had made him accustomed to a life of distance and discipline. He had grown comfortable in it.

Until you.

“Glad you like it, sweetheart,” he said at last, forcing a small smile before returning his attention to the scripture in his hands.

It was easier to focus on the page than on the way you were still standing there, smiling at him as if he had just given you the greatest gift in the world.

You giggled and stepped a little closer. “You know, I didn’t remove the bracelet yet… I’m planning on wearing it forever.”

Fr. Jeon raised a brow at that, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Really?” he asked, unable to hide the delightfulness in his voice.

“Yes! I didn’t even remove it when I took a bath,” you giggled, smiling at him with pure adoration.

His brows furrowed slightly at what you had just said, but before he could stop himself, a faint flush crept across his cheeks.

Test of faith.

His mind betrayed him for a brief second, wandering toward the image of you showering while still wearing the bracelet he had given you, carefully keeping it on even then. The thought was so sudden and inappropriate that he immediately felt ashamed.

He gulped harshly, disappointed in himself. He would have to repent later and ask the Lord for forgiveness for allowing such a crude thought to cross his mind.

Fr. Jeon could not entertain that desire. It was forbidden, a temptation that needed to be buried and forgotten before it could take root.

Yet despite the turmoil quietly unfolding inside him, he weakly reached over and gently patted your head.

His heart immediately thumped against his ribs when your eyes lifted to meet his, shining with unmistakable adoration at the simple gesture.

You beamed at him...letting out a small, delighted giggle that softened the moment even further.

Craving.

The past few weeks had been exhausting. As the city's new presider, he had been buried beneath paperwork and responsibilities. The church had also been flooded with parishioners seeking confession, and the lines seemed to grow longer with each passing day.

Hundreds of voices had passed through the confessional since then, each carrying their own sins, burdens, and regrets. Most of them faded from memory the moment absolution was given.

Yours hadn't.

Fr. Jeon leaned back in his chair and stared at the crucifix hanging on the office wall. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the room.

He had spent years strengthening his faith, disciplining his mind, and dedicating himself entirely to the Lord. Yet lately, all it took was a sweet smile, an innocent touch, or the sound of your voice to shake that discipline.

Closing his eyes, he lowered his head.

"Lord, forgive me," he murmured quietly.

A threat to his devotion.

-

“Ouch, fuck,” you groaned, pulling the tray of cookies out of the oven.

You were baking a fresh batch for Fr. Jeon today, trying out a larger baking tray than usual so you could make more cookies at once. Unfortunately, the experiment immediately backfired.

As you bent down to take the tray out, the hot metal edge accidentally brushed against your inner thigh. You winced, pouting as you watched your skin slowly turn red.

“This looks so bad,” you murmured, setting the tray of cookies down on the counter.

Luckily, you had been wearing long skirts these days.

Prepping the boxes of cookies you had baked, you decided to wear a purple long lacey skirt paired with a cute ruffled top. Your hair was styled into low pigtail braids, each tied with a ribbon at the ends. Holding the box carefully, you frowned slightly when you felt the bandage rubbing against your swollen skin.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon, I got you cookies!” you beamed.

You noticed he had become even busier after being appointed as the city’s official presider, though you didn’t realize he had been deliberately drowning himself in paperwork—anything to keep his thoughts from drifting where they shouldn’t.

“Good day, Y/N,” he replied, glancing up for only a brief moment to return your smile before his attention went back to the documents in front of him.

You frowned slightly and placed the box of cookies on the table in front of him. “Got you a different flavor! It’s red velvet this time,” you said, pointing at the box with a small, proud smile.

Fr. Jeon glanced at them, warmth flickering in his chest before he quickly pushed it down.

“Thank you, Y/N… that’s very kind of you,” he said gently, his tone careful, as though he was trying to place distance even while accepting your kindness.

You pouted almost immediately. The response felt far too brief for someone who had spent the morning baking for him.

Wanting his attention back on you, you shifted your weight and played with the ends of your braid, searching for something that would pull his focus away from the paperwork on his desk.

“You know… I even got burned earlier because I used a bigger tray and it hit me,” you said with a small chuckle, watching him carefully for a reaction. “But it’s fine, I’m just worried it might leave a mark,” you added with a light giggle, unable to hide the hopeful note in your voice as you waited for him to look at you again.

That got his attention immediately.

His brows furrowed as he looked up from the papers, concern breaking through the careful distance he had been trying to maintain. His eyes instinctively moved to your hands, searching for any sign of injury.

“Where is it? Let me see,” Fr. Jeon said, the concern in his voice unmistakable. His gaze lingered on your fingers and wrists, unable to find the burn he was looking for.

You had to fight the smile threatening to appear.

Slowly, you made your way around the table until you were standing beside him. From his swivel chair, he tilted his head back to follow your movement, his attention still fixed on your hands.

“It’s not there, Fr. Jeon…” you said softly. “Here...”

A small giggle escaped you as you gently lifted the hem of your long skirt. 

His eyes widened instantly, panic flashing across his face before he could hide it. Before you could lift your skirt any higher, his hand shot forward on instinct, wrapping around your wrist to stop you.

“W-What are you doing?” he asked, nearly choking on the words.

The reaction was immediate, almost alarmed, as though the sight of you standing there with your hands on your skirt had caught him completely off guard. His grip wasn't harsh, but it was firm enough to halt your movement, his composure visibly rattled.

“I burned my thighs, Fr. Jeon… see?” you said innocently, lifting the fabric just enough to reveal the bandage wrapped beneath.

His lips parted at the sight, momentarily stunned.

The bandage sat against your soft thighs, the realization of how close he was to something so private making his mind go blank for a second. 

He had never seen so much of you like this before—not this close, not this exposed in such an unguarded, unexpected way.

Your thighs looked so soft, pink and smooth… faintly marked by the redness around the bandage, drawing attention to how tightly you had wrapped it. 

“It hurts a little,” you pouted, pointing at it.

His throat tightened as he swallowed hard, his gaze immediately faltering. Behind his glasses…his pupils were dilated, his ears and neck flushing red. His hands gripped the sides of his swivel chair tightly, as though grounding himself in place.

“Y-You wrapped it wrong,” he managed to say at last, his voice strained. He cleared his throat and forced his attention elsewhere, brows furrowing as he tried to recover his composure.

You tilted your head. “I did?” you looked down, trying to check your bandage when he suddenly stood up.

“I-I have a first aid kit in my cabinet. Sit in my swivel chair...I-I’ll wrap it for you,” he said quickly, already turning away from you as if creating distance would steady him. Without waiting for another reaction, he walked toward the cabinet near the bookshelves.

You bit your lip. “Okay…”

You obediently sat down in his swivel chair, a small, satisfied feeling flickering in your chest when you noticed how concerned…and slightly flustered—he seemed.

When he returned, he was holding a small first aid kit. Your breath caught slightly when he suddenly knelt in front of you.

“L-Lift your skirt, please.” he said, his tone firm but strained, his brows drawn together as he deliberately avoided looking too directly while waiting for you to comply.

Your heart stammered, green thoughts flowing inside your filthy brain.

With shaky, anticipatory hands, you lifted your skirt up to your inner thighs, purposefully raising it a little higher than necessary.

When he looked at your exposed thighs, his breath hitched. He tried to remain as calm as possible, forcing himself to focus. Slowly, he reached for the bandage, almost flinching when he felt the softness of your skin beneath the rough pad of his fingers.

“It’s too tight,” he said breathily, his hands trembling as he unwrapped the bandage from your thigh.

“Is it?” you said softly, watching the way his lips were slightly parted, his expression focused and controlled.

When the burn was finally exposed, his brows furrowed. “You should be more careful, Y/N.” he said quietly.

He took a small tube of ointment from the kit, applying a bit to his index finger before carefully spreading it over the burn.

You winced slightly at the contact, while his attention remained fixed and steady as he worked.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice lower than usual as he briefly checked your reaction before focusing back on the injury.

You bit your lip. “J-Just a little bit.”

He sighed harshly at that, gently rubbing the ointment in with steady movements, though you could see beads of sweat slowly forming on his forehead.

“Just a little more,” he murmured almost under his breath, applying another layer of ointment. His control was thinner now, each movement more deliberate than the last, as if he was carefully holding himself together.

When he took the new bandage, he wrapped it carefully around your burn with precise, practiced hands. Once he was done, he immediately adjusted your skirt, smoothing it down with controlled efficiency…perhaps a little too quickly, as though creating distance from the moment itself.

When he stood up, you could see it more clearly now: the restraint in his posture, the tension in his jaw, the way his composure wasn’t as effortless as before. He looked like he was actively holding himself back from something, grounding himself before it showed too much.

“Thank you,” you said warmly, smiling up at him.

He looked down at you, tilting his head slightly at how innocent you appeared with your ribbons and braids.

Forbidden.

That night, Fr. Jeon fell into the forbidden temptation he had been trying so hard to resist.

It was ten o’clock, yet he remained inside the church office, refusing to leave the premises until his mind and soul were free of guilt.

Frustrated, he buried himself in scripture, but his thoughts kept drifting back to your soft, beautiful thighs and the rosary bracelet on your wrist that had stirred such sinful thoughts within him.

“Forgive me,” he muttered under his breath, his tattooed hand sliding down his slacks to palm his hardening cock.

His lips parted. It had been a very long time since he had touched himself...he had almost forgotten how good it felt. With a shaky breath, he slowly stroked his growing erection, murmuring apologies and curses beneath his breath.

He nearly rolled his eyes back at the sensation. It felt far too good. His cock hardened with alarming ease at the mere thought of you.

Lust.

With trembling hands, he slowly pulled his cock free from his slacks. It was thick and pulsing, a bead of precum already forming at the swollen tip.

When his tattooed hand squeezed the base, more fluid gathered at the head, coating his throbbing shaft.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered under his breath, a groan escaping him as he rediscovered how good it felt to touch himself after so long.

It was sinful. Dirty.

He was still inside the church office, dressed in his usual black clerical shirt with its roman collar. Scripture lay open on his desk, and his glasses had begun to fog from the heat of his breath.

It had been years. He could no longer remember the last time he had touched a woman, nor the last time he had thought of one this way. When he devoted himself to the Lord, he had promised never to indulge in such acts again.

The longer he had restrained himself, the better it felt to finally release that tension after so many years. His cock almost ached. Thick and veiny, it twitched whenever he rolled the foreskin down.

“God, help me.” Fr. Jeon moaned shamelessly, jerking himself in slow, deliberate strokes, determined to savor every second of it.

He gathered spit in his mouth and let it trickle down his aching shaft. The added lubrication drew a groan from him. He bit down hard on his lip as the realization struck him once more—how good this felt, how much he had missed touching himself.

His thoughts drifted to you.

He imagined your sweet confession about still wearing the rosary bracelet he had given you... even while bathing. The thought lingered longer than it should have, unfurling in his mind as he pictured your small, delicate hands gliding a bar of soap across your soft skin. The rosary would brush against your chest with every movement, the beads shifting and sliding as you washed your nipples.

And then his thoughts wandered further, painting one image after another—your inner thighs, the way the beads might accidentally graze your soft skin as you shower. Each vision arrived unbidden, more vivid than the last, and far more difficult to suppress.

A sacred desire.

He was leaking more and more with every thought of you. The only sound echoing through the office was the wet rhythm of his hand jerking along his hard leaking cock.

Curious, he gathered a bead of precum between his thumb and index finger and brought it to his lips. The taste was salty, thick, and strangely addicting.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, collecting more of it only to taste himself again.

Your forbidden thighs.

The softness of them. The way he had been close enough to imagine burying himself in their warmth. The way they flushed pink beneath his touch. The way they looked so plump and beautiful, tempting thoughts he should never have entertained.

He imagined pressing kisses along your legs, lingering there as though each touch were an act of devotion. He imagined how soft your pussy would feel beneath his lips, how he would part your folds just to stare at your glistening cunt, worshipping it with the reverence of a prayer.

Fr. Jeon was close to climaxing, using memories of your past interactions to fuel his sinful fantasies. His hand was slick with saliva and precum, his thighs tensing as he struggled to hold himself back. He tried to edge himself, to prolong the moment, because the sensation felt far too good after so many years of restraint.

Your body. Even beneath your long dresses and modest blouses, he could tell you were beautiful.

It shamed him that it had been one of the first things he noticed when he saw you wearing that rosary. The way your chest filled out your modest clothing. The way your waist appeared so delicate beneath layers of fabric. The way he found himself wondering what was hidden beneath all that lace and decency.

It was a sin he was terrified to acknowledge. A sin he was terrified to put into words.

But you were beautiful, kind, gentle, and devoted in your faith.

He wanted to fuck you.

When the shameful thought finally broke free from the restraints he had placed upon it, he came hard, his release staining the dark fabric of his slacks.

A deep groan tore from his throat as he continued to stroke himself, milking every last wave of pleasure from his body. His thumb brushed along the underside of his cock, chasing the lingering sensitivity.

“Fuck, I’m still hard,” he muttered, biting his lower lip as he glanced down at himself.

It was understandable.

After years of abstinence, it wasn't surprising that his body responded so eagerly. The restraint he had maintained for so long seemed to have shattered all at once.

Yearning.

All night, instead of losing himself in scripture, he gave in to temptation. His hand jerked shamelessly over his cock as his thoughts returned to you again and again. To every forbidden desire he had tried to suppress. To every impulse he had buried beneath prayer, discipline, and devotion.

Hours passed unnoticed.

He had so much pent-up desire, so much neglected hunger, that he remained awake until dawn, caught in an endless cycle of pleasure in jerking his insatiable cock. The office grew quiet around him while the darkness slowly gave way to morning light, yet his thoughts never strayed far from your face, your kindness, and the feelings he had spent so long denying.

And the fantasies that filled his mind were so sinful that he feared they had carried him beyond forgiveness.

“This should do it,” you giggled to yourself, wrapping the bandage poorly on purpose so he would have an excuse to fix it for you again.

Your box of cookies was already prepared, resting neatly on your lap while you held a bible in your hands and waited for Fr. Jeon.

Unfortunately, hours passed with nothing but the sound of turning pages accompanying you. You flipped through scripture after scripture, occasionally glancing toward the door, expecting him to appear at any moment.

Yet he never came.

Confused, you eventually stepped out of the office to look for him yourself. Perhaps he was outside helping with the donations or speaking with parishioners, as he often did. But after wandering around the church grounds and checking every place you could think of, you still couldn't find him anywhere.

“Where is he?” you pouted to yourself, a disappointed sigh slipping past your lips as you made your way back to his office.

By the time you returned, the warm glow of sunset had already begun spilling through the stained-glass windows.

Realizing he wasn't coming, you reluctantly decided to leave the cookies behind along with a small handwritten note. The thought alone made your chest feel strangely heavy.

“I miss him already,” you murmured, frowning at your own words.

It wasn't as if you could simply call or text him. Despite spending weeks at the church, Fr. Jeon had never given you his number, and you had never found the courage to ask for it. Perhaps it was because you preferred seeing him in person.

The idea of receiving his answers through a text message whenever you had questions about scripture felt disappointing somehow. You liked sitting across from him, listening to his voice as he patiently explained things to you. You liked the little smiles he gave you, the way his attention never seemed rushed, and the comfort that came with simply being around him.

That day left you unusually sad. It was the first time you hadn't seen him at all. Even when he was busy, he always managed to stop by, if only for a minute. No matter how much work he had, he never missed the opportunity to check on you.

Avoidance.

You came back today...hopeful that you would finally see him again and finally ask where he had been yesterday, you were instead met with confusion when he didn’t appear again. You pouted when you noticed the box of cookies you had left behind was still untouched, exactly where you had placed it.

“That’s odd, he can’t miss a bible reading,” you murmured to yourself, already accustomed to his usual routine. He always visited the church at a certain time to pray quietly and read scripture before continuing his day, and you had grown used to waiting for him during those moments.

But days passed, and he was still nowhere to be seen.

The cookies you had prepared for him began to lose their freshness, and the papers he usually kept neatly on his desk started to gather dust. A strange sense of unease settled in your chest as you tried to understand what had changed.

You asked around the church, speaking to parishioners and volunteers, hoping someone might have seen him or could explain where he had gone. But what you learned nearly broke your heart.

He was still coming to the church every day. He just arrived earlier now.

You had always known his schedule well—he used to visit his office around three in the afternoon, which was why you were always there waiting at that time. You never thought he would suddenly change it without warning.

“T-Thank you,” you managed to say, forcing a small smile when one of the parishioners finally informed you that he had been seeing Fr. Jeon every morning. You were lucky this particular parishioner stayed at the church throughout the day, otherwise you might never have learned the truth.

Still, the information left you disappointed and strangely hurt.

The fact that he was visiting every day but never acknowledged your cookies. The fact that he never even left a note to explain. The fact that you had been waiting for him all this time, dressed in your usual modest dresses, as if your presence alone meant anything to him.

Tears slowly began to gather in your eyes for reasons you couldn’t fully understand. It felt almost like being rejected without a single word, like a quiet heartbreak you hadn’t been prepared for. It seemed as though he was suddenly avoiding you.

“What did I do?” you pouted softly to yourself, walking home with slumped shoulders as you tried to wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

On the way, your thoughts turned over your last interaction with him. Had you been too bold? Had he noticed something in you that you thought you had hidden well? Had he finally realized that your devotion wasn’t as pure as it appeared?

The more you thought about it, the more desperate you became to see him again. And instead of wanting to reveal your true ill intentions, you found yourself wishing the opposite—that he would see how devoted you were, how deeply you admired him, how willingly you would sacrifice your dignity just to remain close to him.

Restraint.

You didn’t know that he had been avoiding you all along, because your sick plan had finally taken effect, his careful restraint crumbling like a rock under pressure.

Fr. Jeon couldn’t bring himself to face you. Even the slightest eye contact felt like it would burn through his skin, your presence alone eating away at whatever remained of his guilt until there was nothing left but discomfort and temptation.

Desperate.

You woke up early that day, preparing yourself carefully so you could see him. The constant overthinking had become unbearable, and you were convinced that seeing him would finally calm your thoughts.

Slowly, you walked through the church halls, your kitten heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Your wandering gaze passed over parishioners and silent figures lost in prayer, the morning air gentle and warm as it settled over your chaotic mind. The scent of the church—fresh flowers and holy water—was oddly soothing as you moved deeper inside.

But as you went further in, you nearly lost your balance when you noticed his office door slightly ajar.

Your heart began to pound in anticipation as you carefully approached. And when you finally looked inside, your eyes widened.

There he was.

In his usual black clerical long-sleeved shirt and roman collar, Fr. Jeon stood looking down at the box of cookies you had left a week ago.

Your heart sank at the realization that he must have seen the box of cookies days ago—and still chose to ignore it.

Taking a steadying breath, you stepped inside and gently closed the door behind you, locking it without hesitation.

“Fr. Jeon,” you said softly.

He looked up immediately, his eyes widening as though he had seen something he shouldn’t have. For a brief moment, he looked almost like he had seen a ghost. His entire body stiffened, tension tightening in his posture as he forced himself upright.

“What are you doing here?” His tone came out sharper than intended, almost accusatory, as he tried to regain control of himself by straightening his clerical collar and adjusting the bridge of his glasses.

You frowned at the reaction, slowly taking a step closer. Something in your chest cracked when you noticed how his expression shifted with each movement you made—his brows tightening, his gaze dropping as if he couldn’t bear to hold it steady on you for too long.

“You didn’t get the cookies I got you,” you said with a small pout, glancing between the box and him as if the answer should have been obvious.

Fr. Jeon bit his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment, as though needing time to steady himself.

“I was… busy,” he said, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard. He almost stepped back when you moved closer.

You tilted your head at him. “Am I taking too much of your time, Father?” you asked softly, your voice carrying a sad little pout.

Patience.

Fr. Jeon exhaled slowly and heavily, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as if trying to ground himself. Your presence alone seemed to shut down every carefully built wall he had been maintaining.

He looked down at your sad pout, and something in him nearly cracked at the sight of your sadness. For a moment, his composure faltered as fantasies surged back in, uninvited and overwhelming.

For the past few days, he had been deliberately avoiding you. He had started arriving at the church earlier, knowing you always came in the afternoon, carefully timing his routines so he would not run into you. He avoided his office as well, because every corner of it reminded him of you.

But this morning, he had come in anyway.

And the first thing he saw was the box of cookies you had left behind… along with a small note that said you missed him.

Desire.

For the past few nights, he had been jerking his cock non-stop. Ever since that first time, he couldn’t shake the feeling, couldn’t resist the urge to return to it again and again—groaning your name under his breath like a sacred prayer.

“No, sweetheart… I’m just—”

“I’m sorry… I just really like it here, and I love talking to you,” you said in a soft tone, stepping closer until he could smell your vanilla perfume, your pleading eyes pulling him deeper into your orbit.

Fr. Jeon swallowed harshly, his pulse quickening at how sweet and beautiful you looked for him.

“Sweetheart—”

“Would you like me to leave?” you asked quietly, biting your lower lip.

His eyes dropped to your lips. His hands curled into fists, every passing second testing his hard-earned faith and devotion.

But no...he would rather endure the torment alone, rather than risk touching your beautiful, tempting soul.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you much of my time right now. I’ve been really busy—” Fr. Jeon said with finality.

Suddenly, you rose onto your tiptoes to meet his height and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“It’s okay, Father… I understand,” you whispered, your lips lingering dangerously close to his.

Succumbed.

Before you could pull away, his hands slid to your waist, steadying you—holding you in place more firmly than expected. You were about to look at him in confusion when he suddenly crashed his lips into yours.

Your eyes widened, your body nearly falling backward, but he held you firmly in place. His kiss was harsh and desperate—like a man starved, and you were the only water in a burning desert.

His tongue forced its way into your mouth, and the sound of his low groan sent shivers down your spine.

His brows were furrowed tightly, every bit of pent-up frustration spilling into the kiss. It was rough, consuming—his control slipping as he pulled you deeper into it, saliva beginning to spill messily between your mouths from how intensely he claimed your lips.

When he finally pulled away, his pupils were blown wide. His lips were red and swollen, his chin damp with both of your saliva.

He released your waist almost instantly, as though you had burned him.

Swallowing hard, he stared down at your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Oh God. What had he done?

“W-What—” you stammered, bewildered, still in shock at how easily Fr. Jeon—a priest with such a good reputation….had fallen into your lips like a man undone by weakness and lust.

Surrendered.

When you saw him step back, his brows furrowing as if he had just realized what he had done, you immediately grabbed his arms.

“I—I’m sorry, this is blasphemous, I—”

You pulled him back and kissed him again, softer this time. “I like you, Fr. Jeon. Please don’t avoid me,” you almost pleaded, tugging him down so you could reach his lips again.

His eyes widened. He shook his head immediately. “Y/N, n-no… this is wrong,” he blurted weakly, trying to grab your wrists as you pulled him closer.

Hearing those words from your mouth struck something deep in him, shaking his resolve. He couldn’t fall for you, he couldn’t kiss you, he couldn’t touch you...he couldn’t even think about you.

The only solution was to stay away—to pretend none of this had ever happened.

You shook your head. “Please, I want you so badly… there’s nothing wrong with this,” you insisted, trying to kiss him again, but he turned away. His eyes were heavy-lidded, weakened, the air in the office suddenly suffocating.

“You make me happy, Fr. Jeon… please,” you pleaded.

He shook his head firmly. “I am a priest, Y/N. This is forbidden,” he said weakly, his voice low and rough—like every word cost him something, like it was painful to say.

“But...why did you kiss me?” you pleaded.

Fr. Jeon groaned under his breath, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“Do you like me too, Fr. Jeon?” you pushed further, stepping closer, watching how much it seemed to strain him.

“Y/N, this is wrong—”

Your lips parted. “You...you like me,” you concluded when he didn’t deny it.

A small smile formed on your lips at the confirmation. Suddenly, the past few weeks made sense—the distance, the avoidance, the restraint. Everything clicked into place.

When he weakly let go of your wrists, you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, as if he had finally surrendered to you. His lips parted, his eyes clouded and hazy.

“Since when, Father?” you whispered, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He shut his eyes tightly. The feeling of your hands on him was already enough to send him spiraling. His lack of physical affection was becoming obvious in the way his body reacted—his restraint slipping under something as simple as your soft, shallow touch.

“The first time I saw you at the church,” he whispered so low you almost didn’t catch it, as though even admitting it was a sin.

You gasped, your eyes widening at the revelation that he had noticed you from the very beginning.

“I-I thought… you didn’t recognize me. Y-You were always so busy and—”

“I did,” he cut in softly, his voice rough. “But it’s impure of me to stare at such beauty. I cannot do that.”

His gaze dropped to your lips again, weak and conflicted.

You gasped, a fond grin forming on your beautiful face. “Indeed, that’s very impure of you…Father,” you giggled.

Fr. Jeon groaned, attempting to step back again, but this time you pulled him closer and kissed him without hesitation. When you tried to part his lips with yours, you felt him shake his head, his hands gripping your waist to hold you back.

“N-No… we can’t—”

“Shh... it’s okay, Father… we’ll keep this a secret,” you whispered like a little devil in disguise, your pouty lips brushing against his again. “No one will know…”

Fr. Jeon groaned, your words sending shivers down his spine. The tension between restraint and desire tightened further.

“No, sweetheart, this is wrong… we should—”

“Please, Father…I’m already so wet.” you mumbled softly, looking at him with pleading eyes.

His eyes widened. It had been a long time since he had heard such crude words—especially coming from a pretty mouth like yours.

“T-That’s—” he stammered, his composure slipping further under the weight of you.

“Unholy?” you giggled, taking his right hand and guiding it beneath your long skirt.

His lips parted when his fingers brushed against the wet fabric of your underwear. His cheeks and ears burned red at the realization of how aroused you were.

You bit your lip, rising onto your tiptoes to whisper against his ear.

“No one will know.” you dragged your tongue along the shell of it, smiling when you heard him let out a soft, broken sound.

Blasphemous.

His lips grazed your inner thighs as his once devout, God-bound gaze now fixed on your bare, wet pussy. He knelt before you like you were some immaculate saint.

“Y-You’re so beautiful,” he said breathlessly, his fingers parting your folds and gently pulling back your hood to expose your sensitive clit.

You gasped loudly when he spat onto your center, his soft lips immediately wrapping around your clit, sucking in both his saliva and your wetness.

“Oh, God,” you moaned.

Fr. Jeon looked almost sacred between your thighs. Your skirt was bunched at your waist just enough for him to fully indulge in your pussy, while his black clerical shirt began to stain from how much you were dripping onto him. His glasses had grown slightly fogged from the heat of his breath against your body and the warmth between your legs.

He ate your pussy like a starving man, unable to get enough. His tongue pushed inside your tight cunt in search of more, drawing more juices from you, while the obscene sounds of his mouth filled the room. His throat worked with every swallow, adam’s apple bobbing as he greedily took in every drop you gave him.

“You taste so good,” he mumbled between your thighs, the vibration of his voice sending pleasure straight to your core.

You bit your lip, giggling softly while trying to keep your balance—you were leaning against his desk.

“Do you like how wet it is?” you asked, looking down at him as if amused by how much he was enjoying himself.

Fr. Jeon nodded against your cunt. “So wet and pretty,” he mumbled, sucking your clit until his cheeks hollowed, his dimples showing each time he latched on harder.

The way he ate you out was wet and messy, continuously spitting as his lips stayed locked around your clit. You gasped when he pinched your folds together, trying to eat your entire pussy into his warm mouth.

Every time you squirmed, he tightened his grip on your thighs, groaning under his breath as if he wanted to drown himself in you completely.

Whenever he pulled back to breathe, he took a moment to stare at your swollen, messy cunt—admiring it like something sacred, something almost holy in its beauty. He whispered how ethereal it was before spitting on it again and diving back in hungrily.

“H-How come you’re so good at that?” you moaned, looking down at his mouth as he remained relentless, your juices dripping down his chin.

Fr. Jeon looked up at you, adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I’ve fantasized about this,” he said with a smile. “I imagine devouring your cunt while I jerk off my cock.”

He pressed a light kiss to the top of your clit before burying his face against you again.

Your eyes rolled back at the confession, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Hmm... really? That’s ungodly, Father.”

Fr. Jeon only groaned, pressing his face deeper until you were certain he could barely breathe. “I’m only willing to surrender myself to you.”

You gasped. The way he said it felt so wrong, so forbidden, and your pussy throbbed at the thought of him willingly committing such sinful acts, of him literally being on his knees for you.

When he felt your wetness growing, he lifted his head slightly to look at your cunt. Using his index and middle finger, he spread you open, watching as more of your milky-white juices gathered.

Fr. Jeon groaned, swallowing hard at the sight of how wet and horny you had become.

“You like that, sweetheart?”

He gathered your juices, the pads of his fingers sliding down your slit and making you flinch. Your breath caught when you watched him scoop your cum onto his fingers and bring them to his mouth, tasting your sweetness. "You got so much wetter."

“Fr. Jeon, oh my—”

He continued gathering the excess wetness, scooping up your cum until he was satisfied that you were no longer dripping. His brows furrowed as he sucked the collected juices from his fingers, unwilling to let any of it go to waste.

When he finally gathered the last drop, you frowned as he rose to his feet.

For a moment, you thought he was done. Then he brought his fingers, coated with your cum, up to your mouth.

“Open up, sweetheart.” he whispered, his gaze lowering to your lips, swollen from how hard you had been biting them.

You slowly opened your mouth, moaning when he slid his fingers inside so you could taste your own juices mixed with traces of his saliva.

“You taste like sin, don’t you?” he said softly, his fingers twirling inside your mouth, nearly making you gag.

You sucked on his fingers, your cheeks hollowing eagerly as you looked up at him with expectant eyes. “Mhm. I want to taste how pure you are, then,” you said softly, sucking his fingers the way you imagined sucking his cock.

His cock twitched inside his slacks, precum already gathering at the swollen tip.

He immediately shook his head. “Want to make you cum first, sweetheart.”

Before you could protest, he was already kneeling again, his tongue out as he buried his face between your thighs as though his life depended on it. His nose brushed against your swollen clit while his tongue alternated between slow, deliberate licks and eager suction, determined to draw every reaction from you.

The moment he sensed you were getting close, he pushed his tongue deeper, determined to suck every drop. You were about to push him away from the sudden wave of oversensitivity, but his grip on you tightened.

"I wanna swallow it, please."

You bit down hard on your lip, whispering curses beneath your breath as your body tensed. Your pussy pulsed uncontrollably, heat rushing through you as release overtook your senses.

He groaned at the way your body responded to him, your pussy throbbing vigorously against his tongue.

“I-I want to pleasure you too,” you almost cried.

He didn't stop eating you, even after you came he was sucking your pussy again. He had already made you cum several times just by eating you out. Even after your fifth orgasm, he still hadn’t stopped—still devouring you, drawing out every last drop before spitting it back down onto your slit, pulling your folds apart just to watch it drip, then catching it again with his tongue as if he couldn’t get enough.

You were already overstimulated, your thighs burning from his tight grip, but every time you looked down at him, another wave of arousal surged through you. His brows were furrowed, his eyes closed, almost as if he were praying.

“Please, I want to eat your pussy more.” he mumbled, looking up at you through his glasses, his tongue teasing slow circles around your very swollen clit.

It had been hours. His knees were already red from kneeling, and your back ached from leaning against his desk, yet he still had the stamina to continue, again and again. His cheeks and chin were slick from your cum.

You could see his slacks straining…his arousal obvious beneath the fabric—but he remained focused, almost pleading when you tried to push him away, his mouth still following your spent pussy as if he couldn’t let go.

“Please… one more, sweetheart,” he begged, his thumb soothing along your inner thighs.

When you shyly nodded, he parted your legs further, scooping up what remained of your release as it dripped down. His face pressed in close, his nose brushing against you as he worked, the carpet below you already damp with a mixture of saliva and your arousal.

Unholy.

The once-simple afternoon bible sessions had turned into something far more profane.

The moment you arrived at his office and locked the door behind you, his hands were immediately around you. He would drop to his knees, pushing your panties aside so he could press his face against your wet slit, sniffing your cunt before his tongue slipped out to taste your wetness.

“Hmm… do you like my pussy, Fr. Jeon?” you whispered, fingers tangling in his hair as he indulged you.

He groaned against you, burying his face deeper. “Like it so much.”

He was always so desperate—needy, almost whiny. It was obvious how deeply his years of abstinence had affected him, how long he had denied himself even the thought of such intimacy.

Every touch carried the weight of that restraint, as though all those years of self-denial had finally found an outlet. The way he ate your pussy for hours without stopping, the way he would suck your breasts until they turned swollen and red.

Every time you tried to touch him, he would pin your hands down instead. You had never really touched him yet—he always insisted on giving first, on worshipping you instead. He would say that pleasing you was enough,that eating your cum was enough for him, that devoting himself to your body was what satisfied him most.

“Shh, sweetheart… please be quiet.” he pleaded, his middle and index finger pushing inside your cunt, knuckles deep while massaging your spongy spot.

You were certain his fingers were already wrinkled from how long he had been fingering you, your nipples swollen and sensitive from how harshly he had been sucking them while rubbing your clit.

You bit your lip, tears almost forming in your eyes from how good it felt. “S-sorry, it’s just so good,” you mumbled incoherently.

Fr. Jeon groaned. “Yeah?” He spat down where his fingers met your pussy. “Hear that, sweetheart? You’re so wet for me.” he muttered, biting your nipple harshly while his fingers continued going in and out of your wet cunt, the sounds echoing inside the church office.

You were always a whining mess. Even if he hadn’t fucked you yet, your body was constantly left exhausted from how intensely he made you cum repeatedly. Your legs were always wobbly and shaking after each round, and you would always come home with new hickeys and bruises left by his harsh mouth.

He had the stamina to go on for hours and hours, until the entire afternoon was filled with nothing but wet sounds and your filthy moans echoing through his office.

You wanted to return the pleasure so badly, but every time he begged you to eat your pussy, your knees would go weak. You always gave him what he wanted, opening your legs and spreading your cunt for him.

It was one afternoon when you decided that you wanted to please him.

He was busy sucking on your nipples when you noticed how hard he was beneath his slacks. Your eyes rolling back when you saw him almost humping the air.

With a determined groan, you gently pushed him away from you. Your nipples were already pink and swollen.

“Let me taste you,” you pleaded, pressing a kiss to his cheek before trailing down his jaw.

He protested again, trying to guide you back against the couch.

“Sweetheart—”

“Please, Father.” you begged. “You always make me cum so good. I think I’d cum even harder if I got to taste your cock.”

You couldn’t deny that he always left you more than satisfied, constantly pushing you to the edge of overstimulation. Every time it happened, you could see just how hard his cock was. Sometimes, you would even catch the subtle movements of his hips while he was buried between your thighs, completely consumed by pleasuring you.

Fr. Jeon licked his lower lip, as though contemplating whether he could truly accept the idea of you being on your knees for him. It felt like too much to bear, as if he wasn’t ready for it yet. Shamefully, he was certain he would cum the moment your lips touched his tip.

But seeing you like this—begging, your lips drawn into a sweet pout—made his resolve weaken. His eyes fluttered shut helplessly as you eagerly knelt in front of him.

“Sweetheart,” he rasped, swallowing hard.

You looked up at him before slowly leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against the bulge beneath his slacks.

A harsh groan escaped him. His cock throbbed beneath the fabric, and that simple, innocent kiss was almost enough to make him stumble.

When you pulled down his zipper, you gasped audibly at the sight of his black boxers, already soaked with a large patch of wetness from his precum.

“You’re leaking, Father,” you said with a pout, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

He sucked in a breath, his hands curling into fists as he struggled to compose himself. You looked beautiful and completely undignified at the same time, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to resist.

Slowly, you tugged down his boxers...just enough to tuck his balls and free his hard cock.

Your eyes widened.

He was huge and pretty, twitching on his own and curving upward. Thick veins ran along his shaft, and his swollen pink tip glistened with precum.

You licked your lower lip, unable to hide your anticipation at the sight of him. Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss to the wet tip.

A strained whimper escaped him.

His hands immediately grabbed the sides of his clerical shirt, as though physically restraining himself from losing control over something as simple as your lips touching him.

“Look at me when I suck you, Fr. Jeon.” you said, raising a brow when you noticed him avoiding eye contact.

He bit his lower lip, trying to look down at you.

You gasped when his cock twitched the moment you made eye contact.

With a teasing look, you slowly sucked his mushroom tip while keeping your eyes on him, fluttering your lashes as you took him into your warm mouth.

He groaned harshly. He was about to close his eyes, but you shook your head immediately.

“Eyes on me, please.”

“Oh, God,” he whimpered, looking down at you through heavy-lidded eyes as you eagerly sucked his leaking tip.

You swirled your tongue along the underside of his cock, his eyes rolling back every time you repeated the motion. When you finally pulled away, you spat on the tip, your fingers immediately spreading your saliva and his precum along the shaft, leaving him even wetter and messier.

“Does it feel good?” you asked before taking his tip into your mouth again, trying to take him deeper until his mushroom head brushed the back of your throat. The upward curve of his cock dragged against the roof of your mouth, drawing another whimper from him.

“Y-You look like a slut,” he blurted out through a moan, his jaw repeatedly tensing, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was fisting his shirt.

You looked up at him and nodded obediently...like a good girl seeking praise.

He bit his lower lip. “My pretty slut.”

Fr. Jeon was trying so hard not to come. He wanted to savor the feeling of your tight mouth around him for as long as possible, wanted to hold on to it, to prolong it, but you were simply too much..too pretty, too warm. Every time you took him deeper, his resolve weakened a little more.

Your eyes were already beginning to redden, your throat struggling to accommodate his thickness. Drool slipped messily down your chin, and the wet, obscene sounds coming from your mouth only pushed him closer to the edge. Each swallow, each desperate attempt to take more of him, made his chest tighten with pleasure, his restraint slipping further and further away.

Whenever you pulled back to catch your breath, you would stroke his cock quickly with your hands and spit messily onto his tip.

Before the saliva could slide down his length, you would take him back into your mouth, licking along his shaft and tracing the prominent veins with your tongue before returning to the swollen underside of his head with soft, teasing kitten licks.

Using your free hand, you reached up to cup his balls gently, applying just enough pressure to make him whimper. The movement only made it harder for him to hold himself together, especially as you continued gagging on his cock like a good little slut.

The moment you noticed him clutching his shirt again, you immediately grabbed his hand.

“Use my mouth, Father,” you whispered, guiding his hand to your hair, silently urging him to take control.

Fr. Jeon groaned and shook his head, but your eagerness never wavered. You paused, waiting patiently for him, your eyes fixed on his face.

The moment you placed your hands obediently behind your back, he nearly cursed the Lord himself.

He weakly dragged a hand through your hair, gathering it away from your face before pulling you a little closer. His jaw tightened as he looked down at you, every ounce of restraint tested by the sight of your quiet obedience.

Grabbing your hair with both hands, he guided your face toward him before finally rolling his hips, slowly thrusting into your waiting mouth.

“God, you really are a slut,” he moaned, his composure unraveling a little more with every passing second.

Whenever he pulled back, you would twirl your tongue around the underside of his crown, earning a shaky whimper from him. Then, he would push you down forcefully onto his cock, your nose hitting his pubic hair as he lost whatever restraint he had left.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, sweetheart,” he whimpered.

Your mouth was already growing tired, but you remained determined, refusing to pull away. Tears gathered in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks as you struggled to keep up with him, yet you stayed exactly where he wanted you.

When he saw the tears in your eyes, he almost stopped. 

But you eagerly took him deeper, deliberately pushing forward until your face was pressed flush against his pubic hair. Your mouth struggled to accommodate his thickness, soft gargling sounds escaping despite your efforts to suppress them, yet you took everything he gave you.

“God, fuck.” his eyes rolled back as he released hot, thick cum into your mouth.

He was about to push you away when your hands tightened around the backs of his thighs, holding him firmly in place...determined not to let a single drop of his cum go to waste.

“Sweetheart,” he said weakly.

When you finally pulled away- his cock slipping from your lips, you stuck out your tongue to show him his thick, milky cum. Your lashes fluttered as you held his gaze for a moment, letting him take in the sight before you swallowed.

Delirious.

“The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Fr. Jeon stood before the congregation, one hand resting lightly against the pulpit as he prepared to proclaim the gospel.

“A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew.”

“Glory to You, O Lord,” you whispered under your breath, your sparkling eyes lifted up toward him.

You were in your usual favorite spot—in the front row, like his favorite little church girl—your hair tied with a white ribbon, a long modest dress hiding the sinful image beneath.

Every time he spoke, his eyes never lingered on you. He looked over the crowd like a devoted priest, delivering his words slowly, with quiet passion. And whenever he did happen to find you in the congregation, he would only glance past you, as if you were anyone else.

You smirked inwardly. Who would’ve known that this same priest was literally begging on his knees to eat your pussy inside the church office?

When Holy Communion came, you made sure to open the first few buttons of your dress, revealing the rosary necklace you were wearing—the small cross resting between the plush curve of your cleavage.

“The Body of… Christ,” Fr. Jeon said slowly, his eyes drifting down to the rosary wrapped around your neck, the cross sitting dangerously above your breasts.

“Amen,” you said softly, parting your lips for him.

You almost smiled in quiet victory when you saw his jaw tighten—his composure slowly, subtly fracturing beneath the weight of your sacrilegious act.

When he placed the host on your tongue, you leaned in just slightly too far, letting your tongue brush against his thumb in a fleeting, deliberate touch. So small it could be denied. So intentional it could not be mistaken.

A soft hum escaped you as you pulled back, watching the shift in him—the way his body stilled, the way his breath caught. You were already turning away when his voice followed you, low and controlled.

“Meet me after this.”

You looked up at him, briefly thrown, but his gaze had already returned to the ritual at hand, as if nothing had happened.

Delight curled through you at the sight of him unraveling so carefully in public, holding himself together by force alone while you watched the cracks form in real time.

And when you returned to your seat, you could still feel it—the difference. His voice had deepened into something sharper, more distant. His posture stiffened as he finished the mass, each word now measured, restrained, as though he were forcing himself back into place one line at a time.

Wicked.

Sitting properly on the couch in his office, you waited patiently for Fr. Jeon. It was the first time you would see each other up close after mass, and the thought alone made a soft, bubbling excitement bloom in your chest.

You even brought a small box of cookies for him, carefully balanced in your lap, as if sweetness alone could disguise the anticipation curling beneath your ribs.

When the office door finally opened, you looked up at once and smiled.

He stood there still in his liturgical vestments. Over his white alb, he wore a flowing chasuble that draped heavily over his shoulders, embroidered gold catching the afternoon light that spilled through the glass windows like something almost sacred in itself. A white stole rested beneath it all, marking him clearly as the celebrant of the mass, a figure meant to be untouchable.

He looked absolutely breathtaking—so holy, so distant, so unreachable.

And yet, you already had him like a servant—willing, obedient, on his knees for you.

When he walked toward you, his expression was serious and unyielding. You stood up quickly, excitement lifting you, holding out your small gift for him.

“Good afternoon, Fr. Jeon. I got you cooki—”

The cookies slipped from your hands as he suddenly closed the distance, his hand wrapping around your throat. The rosary beads pressed sharply into your skin.

“I told you...that rosaries are not meant to be worn around your neck, didn’t I?” he said in a mocking tone, his voice low and controlled. His eyes looked darker behind his glasses.

His liturgical vestments suddenly felt overwhelming in this close space, no longer distant or ceremonial, but imposing, almost suffocating, as if you were only now realizing the weight of him in this proximity.

You gasped as his fingers tightened slightly around your throat, not enough to hurt—just enough to demand an answer.

“Y-You did, Father.”

“Mhm. I did,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Didn’t I?”

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the shift in him—how his composure had snapped so suddenly, as if the thin thread of his restraint, stretched in the presence of the Lord, had finally given way.

Dominance.

You gasped when he kissed you hard, cutting off your breath in an instant. His other hand bunched up the long skirts of your dress, hot palms slipping beneath the fabric to cup your warm pussy.

“You’re so impure,” he chuckled darkly, his fingers tracing over your clothed clit.

A soft moan escaped you as you tried to wriggle in his hold, but his grip at your throat kept you firmly in place.

“Sit on my desk and spread your legs,” he commanded, releasing you all at once—both your throat and your pussy.

With shaky legs, you moved toward his desk, climbing onto it and bunching your long skirt up around your waist before slowly spreading your legs wide for him.

Fr. Jeon walked toward you, his gaze fixed on the sight of you—so openly willing for him. The rosary cross rested between your breasts like a sin made visible, the white ribbons in your hair now looking almost tainted, your dress bunched up enough to expose your wet cunt to him.

His fingers closed around the rosary you were wearing. Your breath hitched as he slowly pulled it, forcing your neck to tilt forward with the motion.

“You’re such a whore, wearing this around me,” he said in a condescending tone, drawing you closer until he pressed a shallow kiss to your lips.

“I-Isn’t it pretty?” you asked weakly, still trying to tease him.

He let out a humorless chuckle. Without another word, he reached for the scripture on his desk. “I’ll show you what’s pretty.”

You gasped as he pulled the rosary again, forcing you forward while his other hand held the bible. “Open your mouth.”

Confused, you slowly obeyed, your eyes widening when he suddenly placed the book between your teeth.

“Hold still and bite the scripture,” he commanded sharply before spreading your legs wider.

You bit down hard on the book as he suddenly slapped your cunt.

“Mhmp!” you whimpered, eyes watering from the intensity of it.

Fr. Jeon raised a brow. He lifted his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, his gaze locked on you as he slowly dragged his tongue over them. You bit down harder on the book when he used his saliva-coated fingers to slap your cunt again.

“Shh, quiet, sweetheart… there are other people outside- praying,” he said mockingly, tugging lightly on the rosary around your neck.

You bit down harder when he slapped your cunt again, pulling harshly on the rosary around your neck whenever your whimpers escaped.

“Poor baby… you want me to finger you?” he cooed, slapping your cunt once more. Your panties were already soaked, your arousal building from the relentless stimulation.

You eagerly nodded, drool spilling past your lips and onto the scripture beneath you. Your neck was beginning to ache and swell each time he tugged on the beads.

“Do you deserve it?” he asked, twirling the rosary between his fingers, playing with it slowly.

A tear slipped down your cheek when he slapped your cunt again. Your thighs tried to wriggle on the table, but he only pulled harder on the rosary in response.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m finally going to give you what you want,” he said, letting go of you.

Your eyes almost rolled back when you saw him kneel.

You drooled messily against the book when he flipped your panties aside, three of his fingers immediately slipping inside you to stretch your cunt.

“So tight, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your clit while his fingers continued to thrust inside you.

Each time his fingers pulled back, a fresh gush of wetness spilled out, revealing just how needy and aroused you were.

Looking down, you saw how godly he looked—kneeling so close to your pussy, lips parted as he watched his fingers disappear in and out of your tight hole.

“Mhmph,” you whimpered, his fingers knuckles deep inside you, brushing against your spongy spot and leaving you wriggly and tingly.

“You’re so soaked, sweetheart. It’s so hard to rub you properly like this… so, so wet.”

When he saw how restless you were getting, he suddenly removed his fingers. You were about to frown when he stood up, your eyes widening as he began removing his chasuble and slacks.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he taunted, finally revealing his hard cock.

It was already thick and hard, twitching on its own before he even touched it. Prominent veins pulsed along the girth, and his mushroom tip looked swollen and flushed. Using his fingers, he squeezed the plump head, drawing out more precum before spreading it along the shaft. He slowly rolled the foreskin down, his gaze fixed on your helpless body.

“Do you want this cock inside your tight little pussy?” he said breathily, jerking his hard cock in his hand…his eyes were heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted.

You nodded eagerly, tears spilling down your cheeks from anticipation. Your pussy pulsed hard, leaking more of your arousal down onto the table beneath you.

He chuckled, gripping both of your thighs and spreading them wider for him. “Hold your skirt up, sweetheart,” he murmured, as your long skirt kept drifting down while he positioned you.

With weak hands, you slowly bunched your skirt up. Your jaw was already aching from biting down on the book, but you were determined to be a good girl for him, biting down harder as your eyes turned red and your cheeks flushed, warm and swollen.

When he positioned his mushroom tip against your slit, you almost dropped the book. The feeling of his wet cock against your folds sent a sharp jolt through you.

“Gonna fuck you now, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your teeth nearly ached from how hard you bit down when he suddenly pushed inside you. Your tight walls immediately sucked him in. You watched his lips part in shock, his eyes rolling back for a moment—before he could even thrust, you felt him spilling inside you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he cursed under his breath, trembling as he suddenly came so hard inside you, his lips parting at how good your pussy felt.

You were so warm and tight that he was already convulsing. His grip on your waist tightened so hard it was almost painful. You were shocked—you hadn’t expected him to cum that quickly, but then again, it had been so long since he’d done anything like this. The pent-up frustration was overwhelming, and the moment he felt you, he was already shaking.

When you saw him trembling, you slowly removed the book from your lips. Your jaw ached, but you still managed to give him a small, weak smile.

“Mhm, am I tight, Fr. Jeon?” you whispered weakly, feeling him twitch inside you, filling you with so much cum that it had you feeling completely full.

"T-Too tight." he groaned.

His arms were growing weaker, still trying to push his cum deeper and deeper into your cunt. His cock was already overstimulated and softening, but he still wanted his cum buried deep inside you, some of it already dripping down your thighs.

He groaned, pushing his cock deeper until he was finally hard again. You could feel his mushroom tip swell once more, your pussy stretching around his thickening girth.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at you. He had come so hard he had nearly forgotten about the book he made you bite down on, his rational thoughts slipping away completely, leaving only the heat and the feeling of you.

You bit your lip, opening your legs wider. “Yeah? Do you miss having such a warm pussy around your cock?”

His lips parted...his right hand returned to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat.

“What a dirty mouth you have,” he whispered breathily, like he was only just remembering why he was fucking you so hard in the first place.

He squeezed your throat, earning a loud whimper from you.

Before you could coo at him, he was already flipping you over, bending you against his desk. He immediately grabbed the book, shoving it forcefully into your mouth.

“You think I’m done, huh?” he taunted, kneeling down behind you.

You groaned, biting down on the scripture again, whimpering loudly when you felt him spreading your wet pussy from behind.

“Push my cum out for me,” he said, opening your folds and waiting for you to push it out.

You contracted your pussy, and a gush of his milky white cum spilled from your used hole. Before it could even drip onto the floor, his tongue was already there, scooping it up and swallowing everything until no trace was left.

When he stood up, you were left a trembling mess. Your eyes widened as he pulled on the rosary necklace, the beads wrapping around your throat like a collar. He used it as leverage before pushing his cock back inside you.

“Shh… bite down on the scripture. Let it silence your impurity,” he murmured behind you, thrusting deeper and harder until your body was nearly bouncing against the table from the force of it.

You wanted to moan so badly. The way his mushroom tip kept brushing against your g-spot felt so overwhelming. When he angled his hips in slow circular motions, your weak lips finally dropped the book, and you gasped as it hit the floor with a dull thud.

The moment he felt you slipping out of control, he stopped—only for you to immediately reach for the book. Before you could even grab it, he flipped you onto your back again.

“Fucking whore, can’t follow simple instructions while my cock’s deep inside you, huh?” he taunted, ripping the buttons of your dress just enough to expose your breasts.

“I-I’m sorry, I—”

You shrieked loudly when he suddenly slapped your nipples, the area turning immediately pink.

“Stay there,” he commanded.

You went still at once, your weak eyes following his movements as he reached into the bottom cabinet of his desk.

When he stood up again, he was holding a candle and a box of matches. “Hold this, sweetheart.”

He usually used those candles during scripture readings, letting the flame illuminate the pages.

You held it for him as instructed, watching as he struck a match and lit it, the small flame flickering to life before he set the match aside.

You turned slightly, glancing toward the window. There was still daylight outside—enough to see clearly. Before you could ask what he needed it for, he took the candle from your hand.

“Fr. Jeon, w-what are you—”

Your eyes widened when he tilted the candle downward, the wax threatening to drip onto your breasts. You gasped sharply when it finally landed on your nipple.

“Does it feel good?” he whispered, lowering the candle toward the other bud.

When the hot wax fell onto your other nipple, you moaned loudly, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as pain and pleasure collided.

It was hot and shocking—yet, for some reason, the sting felt addictive, almost intoxicating.

“Y-Yes, Father.” you bit your lower lip hard, watching as the candle was now directed toward your inner thighs.

He raised a brow, your nipples already covered in white wax. “Yeah? Does this get you wet?”

Before you could answer, he was already pouring hot wax onto your left inner thigh. The pain there was sharper, more intense—like the skin was far more delicate and sensitive. When you instinctively tried to close your legs, he held them open, spreading you wider as he moved the candle to drip more wax onto your right inner thigh.

“Oh, God,” you moaned loudly, the hot wax dripping dangerously close to your wet pussy.

You were already trembling. The mix of heat and pain felt overwhelming yet addictive, tears falling uncontrollably down your cheeks.

Fr. Jeon chuckled at you. “What a pretty little pain slut… I’m supposed to punish you with this, but you’re dripping like a whore.”

He grabbed your cheeks, raising the candle up toward your face. “Make a wish,” he whispered.

You looked up at him with weak eyes, your nipples and inner thighs still burning and oversensitive from the wax. With a faint, shaky smile, you told him your wish.

“Fuck me like a slut, Fr. Jeon." you said breathily.

He growled harshly, stepping back a little to admire his work on your body, how the wax was covering your skin like a sin, how your pussy was so swollen and red, yet your hole was still eagerly twitching to be used.

He tilted his head. “You want that, sweetheart?” he said sweetly, his tone contradicting what he had just done to you.

You nodded eagerly. "Please, use my body like a whore, cum inside me until I’m dripping full of your cum, abuse my tight little pussy until I’m all loose and gaping, release all your forbidden frustrations and destroy my dignity.” 

Fallen.

You couldn’t count the number of times you came around his cock that night—his cock thrusting so hard and deep inside you that you could feel how stretched your pussy was.

Every time you tried to fight him, he would push your body down onto the desk, threatening to silence you with scripture whenever you tried to break free from his hold.

When you thought he was done, he would maneuver your body again, spreading your legs wide so he could fuck you hard. His cross necklace would dangle in your face with every thrust. Whenever you moaned too loudly, he would punish you by dripping hot wax onto your inner thighs.

He would always condescendingly praise you, telling you what a poor little girl you were, letting him use you for his own sick pleasure.

"God, you'd let me use you whenever I want wouldn't you? Letting me fuck this tight pussy inside the church, like a good little christian." he would whisper.

It was so lewd when he asked you to touch yourself using the hand that wore his birthstone bracelet, urging you to part your lips for him, watching how the beads would brush over your clit every time you fucked your fingers inside your used, swollen hole.

"That's right...stretch your pussy, sweetheart. I want you nice and gaping when I fuck you again."

Then he would pull your body up, forcing you to bounce on his cock while pressing the beads deeper into your throat. He held both of your cheeks with his free hand so he could continually spit into your parted mouth, watching it drip messily down your chin like a cheap filthy whore. "I love how sinful and dirty you are...so perfect for me."

Capitulated.

You never forgot him, after that night he vanished like a wind.

When you heard that he had suddenly been appointed to another city, it felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet. Overnight, he was simply gone. The weekly sunday mass was no longer presided over by him, and no matter how many people you asked, nobody seemed to have a clear answer as to why.

All you heard were rumors.

Some said he wanted to experience ministry in a different city. Others claimed he had become so busy that he was constantly traveling between churches, handling responsibilities in several places at once. Every explanation sounded vague, rehearsed, and unsatisfying.

You wanted to believe them. But you couldn't.

For months, you carried that bitterness inside you. A part of you convinced yourself that he had simply left. That perhaps everything you shared had meant far less to him than it had to you. The thought hurt more than you cared to admit, especially because, between the two of you, you had been the dishonest one. You had been the one who approached him with hidden intentions, who slowly seduced him, who carefully led him into your snare while pretending to be an innocent church girl.

Yet somewhere along the way, things had changed.

For all your lies, for all your schemes and carefully crafted devotion, you couldn't deny what had happened to your own heart. You had fallen in love with his kindness. Not because he was a priest. Not because he was forbidden. Not because winning his attention felt like a challenge.

But because it was him.

It was the way he remembered small details about you. The way he listened whenever you spoke. The way he always treated people with patience and warmth. Somewhere between the scripture lessons, the afternoon conversations, and the countless boxes of cookies, your feelings had become real.

Then, one afternoon, a letter arrived.

Your hands trembled as you opened it, your heart pounding with a mixture of hope and dread. As your eyes moved across the page, tears immediately gathered in them.

All this time, you had believed he left because he wanted to.

The truth was far worse.

Someone had noticed. Someone had seen the way he treated you differently from everyone else—the way his gaze lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened whenever he spoke to you, the way he always seemed to make time for you no matter how busy he was. And eventually, they had discovered what happened behind the closed doors of the church office.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you continued reading, your vision blurring with every line. For the first time since he disappeared, you finally understood why he had left.

The moment the parish discovered what had happened, he immediately apologized—to the church, to his superiors, and most of all, to the Lord. He had even offered his resignation, believing he was no longer worthy of his position.

But they refused. The parish forgave him.

They told him he was too kind, too devoted, too valuable to lose over a mistake. Instead of removing him from the priesthood, they gave him a chance to start over in a different city, far away from the rumors and whispers. They told him that what happened was a test of faith. A temptation. That God would always be stronger in his heart than any earthly attachment.

You were the temptation they spoke about.

You never wrote back, you never tried contacting him again. Because if he had truly wanted you, he would have resigned. He would have walked away from the collar, from the church, from the life he had chosen long before you entered it. 

He would have chosen you.

Instead, when forced to decide between you and God, he surrendered himself to God. And that answer was enough.

With a deep breath, you entered the confession booth. You wanted to confess your sins, you wanted to move on.

It had been two years, and somehow you were still holding on to him. 

Whenever Sana mentioned his name, your eyes would sting with unshed tears. Whenever you heard stories about him…how successful he had become, how respected he was as a priest now…an ache would settle deep inside your chest.

You could no longer step inside a church without thinking about him.

The stained-glass windows, the scent of incense, the quiet hum of prayer before mass. Every sacred thing had become tangled with the memory of him, until devotion and desire were no longer things you could separate.

So, with a heavy heart, you finally decided to let him go.

Sitting inside the confessional that afternoon, your fingers twisted nervously in your lap as you gathered the courage to speak.

A thin wooden partition stood between you, a barrier meant to separate priest from sinner, confession from judgment, devotion from temptation.

“Bless me, Father…. for I have sinned.” you said softly, behind the confession grille.

Your voice…soft and unforgettable, echoed through the small confessional booth. 

The familiar scent of vanilla wrapped around him like a memory he had spent years trying to forget. 

“Sweetheart.” 

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taglist: @big-mxmaa @seolhyuningg @taehyuvies @imjustcrabby @mysteris-things @jjanajk @hubbytaehyung @koonosekisser @bangtans-momma @taevescence @sug4rnspizee @libra04 @seolhyuningg @glossmvs @miraboon @svnk1ssd @ackrmanzzz @b-tangkitten @bbyeli04 @beforethesunisrisingup @big-mxmaa @callmecoggin @chverjm @crookedengineertraveler @cuntygguk @delnelia @divvtea @divvvsotea @duasoney @eebomoon @faiyiz @fufu7sworld @hamsty @happreader @heavenly--toxic @honestogreturtle @hrrvvwfhyb @hubbytaehyung @hyunrush @idoknwball @inkiijk @inurdreamsim @jaisisnsnsh @jaykay-world @jennster @jilu5695 @jjkxoxx @kekooie @livigguk @luvs4koo

[kookooluvr]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE | JJK

jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

tags: fwb!au, co-workers!au, professor!jungkook, professor!reader, fwb2l, slow burn

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

status: completed

main masterlist moodboards spotify playlist tmhtl tag

tmhtl extras tmhtl amm banner

MAIN STORY

01: the one where you lock the bathroom door (3.5k)

Good friends support you in times of need. Good friends go down on you until your legs shake. That's just how it is.

02: the one where you're sick (2.7k)

He would put everything on hold to be there for you. Hell, he would run into a burning building if you were in there. Because it's you.

03: the one where you break a rule (6.7k)

He's an open book, always sharing all these intimate details about himself with you, yet you keep so many parts of yourself hidden from him. He wonders if it's just in your nature or if you deliberately keep him at arm's length, preventing him from getting too close.

04: the one where you spend the night (8.6k)

He was never confident enough to say that he's ever fallen in love before, but if anyone were to ask him about love, he'd tell them about you.

05: the one in jeju (16k)

"If you were mine...really mine..." He takes a sharp inhale through his nose, his eyes boring into yours. "I'd never break your heart."

06: the one with all the crying (13.6k)

Maybe this is your fault. Maybe this is what happens when you pretend things don't matter when they do. When you are so incessant on keeping things casual, making sure nothing changes, that you take too long to acknowledge the truth staring right in your face.

6.5: the flashback (5k)

You stare at the man you thought you'd spend forever with, and he doesn't look like the boy who you fell in love with. The boy who promised to never hurt you. He just looks like a stranger now.

07: the one with the box of letters (6.3k)

You don't know what to say, or even how to feel, only that whatever this box holds, it feels like it could break you wide open.

08: the one with the voicemail (13.8k)

His entire body goes stiff, and for a moment, all he can do is stare at your name on his screen, his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

09: the one with the first date (12.5k)

It hits you all at once how long it's actually been since you let yourself do this.

10: the one with the housewarming party (12.8k)

You stopped simply surviving and finally started living the day you looked at him and realised you didn't have to be taught how to love anymore. You just had to choose it.

DRABBLES

the one where it all began (5.2k)

the one where you set the rules (1.1k)

the one where you ride his thigh (1.3k)

the one where he proposes (2.3k)

the one where jungkook is territorial (0.9k)

the one with the barista (0.6k)

the one where they go on honeymoon (5.8k)

the one with the silent treatment (3.3k)

the one where he's needy after the gym (1.4k)

the one where hayoung wants her tutu (3.2k)

the one where you have phone sex (4.2k)

[aurorraaaa]

I downloaded Tumblr in November 2025 and this was literally the first fic I ever read . I remember reading the whole thing and completely losing my mind over it. Then somehow I lost the account of @kookooluvr and could never find it again no matter how much I searched and today??? I randomly came across it again and I genuinely shouted in happiness

I think I'm going to read the whole thing all over again because this fic is just THAT good. If you're asking me , it unbeatable, legendary, elite. I don't even have the right words for it.

This fic feels like home to me. Reading it again feels like finding something I thought I'd lost forever. I'm obsessed with the story and honestly a little obsessed with the writer too .

Omg I'm crying byy byy

[kookooluvr]

well aren't you just the sweetest sugarplum on this earth 😭😭😭😭😭😭 the sweetestttt

it truly brings me soooo so so much joy and fulfilment to know that my little fic is so special to someone !!! my personal life has been so busy lately but this truly made me want to get back to writing asap because readers like you are why i enjoy writing in the first place 😭😭😭 your kind words mean everything to me and thank you for enjoying tmhtl ilysmmm 🫂💗

[yeskookii]

Who could have thought that taehyung is actually a pathetic loser

Based on this request

Tags: she caught him flirting with another girl and he is such a loser for this, honestly it’s nothing much only that he drops to his knees begging her to not leave him, he cries also, handjob with no release, denied orgasm hehe.

Mdni 18+

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The club’s back door slams shut, muffling the music and leaving the cold, damp alley silent, smelling of stale beer and wet brick. You don’t turn around, even as you hear his heavy boots skid to a stop on the asphalt behind you.

“Baby, wait, please—it wasn’t—she just—”

“Save it, Taehyung.” Your voice is a flat, cold thing, so unlike the warmth he’s used to. It makes him flinch. “I’m done. I’m leaving.”

You hear a choked sound, a sob ripped from his throat. And then his hands are clinging on you. He slides to his knees on the filthy ground, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, his face pressing into the back of yur spine. The rough denim of his jeans is already soaked—from the pavement.

“No, no, no,” he babbles, his voice shattered. “Please, don’t go. Please. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m an idiot. A worthless piece of shit. Just… scream at me. Hit me. Do anything. Punish me. Please, punish me. Just don’t leave me. I can’t… I can’t breathe without you.”

His whole body is shaking against you, the mighty biker brought to his knees, broken and begging. The rage in your chest is a cold, hard stone, but his desperation… it’s a key. A terrible, tempting key.

You finally turn your head, looking down at him. His face is a wreck, tears cutting through the faint dusting of alley grime on his cheeks, his eyes wide and terrified. You cup his jaw, and he leans into the touch like a starving man, a fresh sob escaping him.

“You want me to punish you?” you ask, your voice quiet, lethally calm.

He nods frantically, his arms tightening around you. “Yes. Anything. Anything, just tell me what to do.”

You glance at his motorcycle, a hulking beast of chrome and black metal parked a few feet away.

“Get up. Lean back on your bike. Hands behind you.”

He scrambles to obey, stumbling to his feet and positioning himself as you ordered, leaning over the leather seat, facing you. His broad shoulders are tense, his knuckles white where he grips the leather seat.

You come to stand in front of him. You don’t touch him, not at first. You let him look at you, let the anticipation tighten his muscles to the point of pain.

“You don’t get to touch me,” you say. “You don’t get to feel me. Not the way you want. You only get what I decide to give you.”

You unbutton his jeans with deliberate, slow movements. He sucks in a sharp breath as you drag the zipper down. You don’t push them down, not even to his thighs. You just free his cock from the confines of his boxers, letting it spring out, already half-hard just from the sheer intensity of the situation, from the humiliation and the fear of loss.

The cold air makes him twitch. You wrap your fingers around him, and he moans, a broken, grateful sound. You don’t move.

“This is all you get,” you whisper, your lips close to his lips. “You don’t deserve my warmth. You don’t deserve my cunt. You get my hand. And you get to beg for it.”

You begin to stroke him, a slow, torturous rhythm. Your touch is firm, skilled, but utterly devoid of the passion he craves. It’s clinical. A punishment. His hips jerk, trying to fuck up into your fist, but you step back, denying him the friction.

“Ah—ah, please,” he gasps, his head dropping to his chest.

“Please what?” you ask, stopping your hand completely.

“Please… touch me. Don’t stop.”

You resume, a fraction faster. His cock is fully hard now, leaking and desperate in your cool grip. You bring him right to the edge, feeling him tighten, his whole body coiling like a spring. His breath comes in ragged pants, little pleas falling from his lips. “I’m close, I’m so close, please, let me—”

You stop dead, your thumb pressing hard into the slick head, smearing the pre-cum. He cries out, a sound of pure, agonized frustration, his body trembling violently with denied release.

“No,” you say simply. You start again, a cruel, edging rhythm. You work him back up, your other hand digging into the hard muscle of his hip, holding him in place. He’s sobbing again, tears of overstimulation and desperate need now mixing with the tears of regret.

“It hurts,” he whimpers, his voice shot. “It hurts, please.”

“Good,” you reply, twisting your wrist on an upstroke. He yelps, his knees buckling. “You should hurt. You should ache. You should feel a fraction of what I felt seeing her hands on you.”

You edge him again, and again. Each time he’s left shuddering and gasping, his cock an angry, red, throbbing thing in your hand, so sensitive that even the brush of your fingers makes him flinch.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve brought him to the brink and abandoned him there. His begging has dissolved into incoherent, shattered syllables.

Finally, you lean close, your chest against his. he can feel your body, a taunting reminder of what he’s being denied. You stroke him slowly, a mockery of tenderness.

“Do you understand now?” you murmur into the shell of his ear. “You are mine to ruin. And you don’t get to come until I say you’ve suffered enough. Do you understand, Taehyung?”

He nods, a weak, broken movement. “Y-yours. I’m yours. Please… I’ll do anything. Just don’t… don’t leave.”

You give him one last, brutal stroke, stopping just before the point of no return, leaving him teetering on a cliff of pure, excruciating need. Then you let him go.

He slumps against the bike, completely spent and shaking, his cock still exposed and throbbing in the cold air, utterly ignored. You tuck him back into his jeans with a detached efficiency, zipping him up. The denial is a physical weight on him.

You step back, wiping your hand on a clean tissue from your pocket. He hasn’t moved, his face hidden, his shoulders heaving with silent, ragged breaths.

“We’re going home,” you say, your voice still calm, still in control. “You’re going to ride your bike. And you’re going to feel every second of this ache. And you’re going to remember it. This is just the beginning.”

You walk towards the mouth of the alley, not looking back. After a moment, you hear the rustle of his leather jacket, the unsteady click of his boots on the ground as he pushes himself upright to follow. A desperate, obedient shadow. Yours to break. And, maybe one day, if he earns it, yours to put back together.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

A/N: im not gonna lie he does NOT deserve that touch anyway so not making him cum is valid for me

Maybe if he try more harder and earn her trust again I’ll think abt it

Thank you anon for this sweet req!! I hope u liked it and tell me if u want pt2 of it 👀 im always down.

[taegularities]

colour me in | jjk (m) | masterlist

Jungkook’s door only opens for you when there’s a barter: a trade of lust and haze. But today you knock for something more, as intriguing as it is frightening – and you hope it doesn’t close his door forever.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader

➳ genre: fwb, fake dating, college!au; fluff, angst, smut

➳ contents & warnings: artist/fuckboy!JK, annoying parents, endearing friends, lots of smut and fluff, misunderstandings; and more chapter specific warnings! | 18+

➳ current word count: 462.5k

➳ status: ongoing

➳ cmi’s mood: still with you and my you by Jungkook | collaborative playlist 🎶

Keep reading

[inthelow]

SORRY, WRONG NUMBER ! — jeon jungkook (six).

pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook

summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.

genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.

authors note: a lot of grammar mistakes cause i’m too lazy to edit it>_<. a little plot twist there, next chapter the crash out of the century will arrived

chapter index | previous — next.

— chapter six: my name is jungkook

lowkey insane amount of chats. anyway the secret is out heheheh what do u think??

taglist: @louxmclll @fluffysheepmaster @labbbaaa @yooniebuns @oncyanii @taetaecatboy @yawnzshit @mniys @kit9doctordreamer @asyr97 @wonderlandkook @songbyeonkim @jksusawife @lackingdopaminesince2007 @amimi-bts @unknownbeknowst @koobiiiistar @nastypinkbunny @mninotjungkook @4rmyf1cs @iiunique @oopscoop @dollyunjinz @junecat18 @gwonlvr @pprettyanna @94hobi @spenceatiny18 @mikrokookiex @urmotherlvr @akl3223 @@dim18 @bloopkook @cherrieshyy @lizka007 @hagridshaircare @jooniesthigh @star-my @iridescentshine @kookie96 @brieally @fadedmixtape @xyz77777777 @hennessysthings @snipky @taemanikoo @fullcolorfreaklight @jjanajk @badaspice

[inthelow]

permanent taglist (2): @bjoriis @sweetnspicyworld @sadiayn @kookdollia @jcnggukie @imjustcrabby @usanrio @mikrokookiex @modernday-siren @brerob31 @ananimehoe @honeeybunneey @fluhflower @thefireintheshadow @luvjimii @taehyung99999 @elithenium @joonjulyagust-d @thealuvsbangtanboys @le-vent-se-leve @tititania @cosmicwintr @lesabdosdetaehyung @mokkaccinnos @19nessa95-blog @kashmoneykoo @medicinemybish @bleumornings @busanbby-jjk

[inthelow]

SORRY, WRONG NUMBER ! — jeon jungkook (four).

pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook

summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.

genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.

authors note: i did what i could with what i had 😓🙏🏼 short chap, i really need u to see how stupid jungkook is

chapter index | previous — next.

— chapter three: my wingman

lowkey i missed a lot of people who asked me to be on the taglist sorry guys i cant keep up

taglist: @louxmclll @fluffysheepmaster @labbbaaa @yooniebuns @oncyanii @taetaecatboy @yawnzshit @mniys @kit9doctordreamer @asyr97 @wonderlandkook @songbyeonkim @jksusawife @lackingdopaminesince2007 @amimi-bts @unknownbeknowst @koobiiiistar @nastypinkbunny @mninotjungkook @4rmyf1cs @iiunique @oopscoop @dollyunjinz @junecat18 @gwonlvr @pprettyanna @94hobi @spenceatiny18 @mikrokookiex @urmotherlvr @akl3223 @@dim18 @bloopkook @cherrieshyy @lizka007 @hagridshaircare @jooniesthigh @star-my @iridescentshine @kookie96 @brieally @fadedmixtape @xyz77777777 @hennessysthings @snipky @taemanikoo @fullcolorfreaklight @jjanajk

[jjungkkook]

(cr. 4brilia)

[jung-koook]

he looks so good in this fit ♡

[yoonfatuation]

timeshare.

✩ jungkook x reader (f) x yoongi ── cartel boss!yoongi, right hand man!jungkook who is down horrendous and concerningly horny for mc, established relationship to more

✩ wc: 4.2k

✩ cw: jungkook is down horrendous, hotwifing disguised as cuckolding, obsessive undertones, voyeurism/exhibitionism

It’s definitely not a conventional look for a birthday party: the birthday boy is cuffed to a chair, watching his girl get railed flat by his second-in-command. The birthday boy is The Serpentines’ psycho boss Min Yoongi, and he is enjoying the fuck out of it.

The atmosphere in the ostentatious hotel suite is positively buzzing with anticipation.

Yoongi walks into the room in a crisp suit, sporting snake monograms on his cufflinks, pure elegance dripping off of him not unlike any given day. You gaze at his sexiness from the accent chair you’re reading a magazine on with your legs crossed, trying not to crassly drool, and in return, he gawks at the mesmerizing sight of his girl that massively overshadows the neon nightscape behind her. He gallantly reaches for your hand and places a kiss on it as if this is your special day.

He is very appreciative that you have generously indulged his requests for the night—wore his handpicked selection of attire all the way down to your shoes, put on the jewelry he had specially flown in, painted your nails in his preferred color…

You look so fucking gorgeous that if he can’t get a hold of himself, he’s going to ruin his appetite before dinner. 

“Like what you see, birthday boy?” you throw your arms around his neck, discreetly rubbing yourself against his crotch.

“Don’t tempt me or I’ll fuck you right in front of them,” he heavily exhales and nods towards the security detail by the door. “I’m barely holding it together.”

“You’ve wanted this that much?” you chuckle into his ear, gently biting his earlobe. “You seem more… enthusiastic than usual.”

“It’s you,” he gropes your ass with one hand while the other brings your fingers to his lips for a bite, opting for a kiss at the last second. “It’s always you.”

There is a reason he has dolled you up like a luxuriously packaged gift tonight. Although it is his birthday, the present is for someone else to open. 

And he’s never looked forward to something this much.

A knock interrupts the sultry melodies playing over the speakers. Yoongi glances at the door, then at you, and smiles.

“It’s showtime, baby,” he slaps your ass as you disappear to wait for your cue.

Jungkook enters the room flanked by two of his men looking like loyal hounds, cocky swagger of owning half the city dripping off of him. 

“Happy birthday, my liege,” he dips his head with the respect he reserves for less than a handful of people in the universe, then immediately cracks up once he absorbs the opulence cradling the room. “Jesus, you’d fucking die if you weren’t obnoxiously extravagant for once, wouldn’t you?”

The boss and his right-hand man slam their hands against each other for a firm shake and pull each other into a brief hug. They sit down by the gargantuan windows and engage in empty chitchat as they sip on the most expensive scotch money can buy. The weather. The game last night. Whether they should branch into solicitation for murder or not.

“What is this good news you kept teasing the entire week?” Jungkook taps his index finger on the glass resting on one leg folded over the other. “If it’s not a sizeable increase in my cut, I’ll be very upset. You hit fifty million thanks to me.” 

“Funny you should say that,” Yoongi presses two fingers on his temple. “It is about a reward I feel like giving you.” 

“Is the first digit finally a two?” Jungkook smirks with contentment.

“Even better,” Yoongi grins wider. 

“Gentlemen.” 

You make your entrance like the main character you are, hips swaying with radioactive temptation, and when he looks to his right, Jungkook confirms it’s not an auditory hallucination. He visibly falters, not expecting to see you tonight at all, and he is doing a terrible job of hiding the fact that he is mentally undressing you, jaw dropped, poise in shambles. He watches the way your heels kiss the rug with every step you take, and he realizes he is fucking jealous of the floor you walk on. 

It’s a miracle he manages to snap out of it.

“Is this a fucking prank or something?” he creases his brows at his boss. 

“I’m just showing hospitality,” Yoongi gracefully brings his scotch glass to his lips. 

Jungkook starts fighting for his life when you sit right on his lap, your arm flung over his wide shoulders inducing the kind of panic that can easily send him to the ER. He is sure he is no longer the man he was before your ass made contact with his thighs.

“You know, I hear everything that goes on under my roof. Tell me if this quote seems familiar to you:” Yoongi lounges back, his smile faint but amused to the high heavens, “I’d fuck her so good she would make me her side bitch on the first thrust.” 

Jungkook chokes on air. It doesn’t help that you are also chuckling into his ear.

“Look, I can explain…” 

“No need,” Yoongi shakes his head without an ounce of his usual tranquil fury. “Here’s your chance.”

That just CANNOT be possible. 

It’s a loyalty test, isn’t it? It’s not like he’s going to offer him his princess on a silver platter on his goddamn birthday or anything…

“You want me to fuck your girl?” he arches his brows in genuine surprise.

“If you’re interested, of course.” 

IN

TE

RES

TED?!

It’s not even remotely enough to describe his willingness levels. If he were any more interested, he would have to check himself into a psych ward for lust-induced psychosis. He lives for this. He eats, sleeps, and thinks this. If you knew how many times he jerked off to you in the past three days alone, you would issue a restraining order against him in the blink of an eye. 

The first time because you wore his favorite sundress, the second time because you touched his arm while laughing at one of his jokes, the third time because you moaned through a yawn, the fourth time because he imagined what you’d look like pregnant, and fifth time to exorcise himself for the fourth time…

He is your self-proclaimed number one fan, entirely obsessed with you, and you getting even more comfortable on his lap, playing with his curls, watching him crumble under you has to be the biggest fanservice in the history of everything.

“What? You’re scared he’s gonna shoot you?” you purr into his ear. 

“You don’t just hand things out,” Jungkook turns to Yoongi. “What’s the catch?” 

“There isn’t one,” he shrugs, perfectly serious. “Unless you call me being present a catch.” 

Years he has spent jerking off to you in shameful silence, and you are being offered to him just like that? This is a trap. It has to be a trap. Or a once-in-five-lifetimes miracle. 

Possibly both.

“That’s… That’s it?” 

“Well, there is one more thing, and I can’t stress how important it is,” Yoongi adds, letting the moment linger in the air to drag on the suspense. “You have to act like you’re doing this against my will.” 

Jungkook is bewildered out of his mind, utterly incredulous of the words coming out of this man’s mouth. 

Okay.

Fuck, okay.

God, okay, fuck, jesus!

He is already half-hard under you. He might last four minutes, six if he can force himself to imagine the unsexiest things his mind can possibly render. He’s desperately thinking of ways to sustain himself longer so he doesn’t wake up from the horniest wet dream of his life extremely prematurely.

“What are my limits?” he asks as he clears his throat.

“Nothing’s off limits. The worse, the better,” Yoongi answers. “Anything she accepts, you can do.” 

“How long do I have?” 

“However long you can last, but the second you cum, it’s over.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, crazy loyal to your man?” Jungkook turns to you, his on-brand cockiness slowly waking up from the chokehold.

“Who says I’m not?” you answer leisurely. “Loyalty isn’t about what I put inside me.” 

He charmingly smiles, stealing the briefest glance from Yoongi’s way in the meantime. 

“Then here’s what we’re going to do.” 

Your neck is right there for him to kiss, but he needs to break his five-year record and wait for five more minutes. He whispers his scheme into your ear, doing his best not to fucking pass out because of your perfume in his nose. Then he stands up to bring a chair for his boss to sit, changes the song to one of his favorite bedroom jams, and orders you.

“Dance for your man, beautiful.”

To every other person on the planet, Yoongi is an unreadable enigma, the embodiment of calm control and velveteen menace, but you can tell from the glint in his hooded eyes when something starts awakening within him. You climb onto the birthday boy’s lap and slowly roll your hips to the rhythm, every curve of your body wrapping around him as you move. The drag of his tongue across his lips devolves into a bite as he admires the tattoo between your tits. He has half a mind to say fuck it to everything and bend you over to fuck your wits out of you until he fully decimates you.

He is so hypnotized by the devil’s slutty bride grinding on cock that he doesn’t even realize his hands are cuffed behind his back until he hears a click.

“Honors?” Jungkook gives you two more pairs to tie Yoongi’s ankles to the legs of the chair.

“Just how many pairs of cuffs do you walk around with?” you chuckle. 

“There is always an opportunity if you know where to look,” he nods towards the door and points at the security detail, “and yours is right over there.” 

The man of the hour is properly pinned to his place. Jungkook sprawls on the couch right across him, then takes your hand and pulls you closer.

“Now, where were we?” he smiles at you like a man in possession of the uppest of hands.

Because he did.

Credit where credit is due, he fakes the most convincing composure of all time as he fights the raging urge to grope you everywhere, treating you like the queen you are with the sublest of touches. Hands coarse from handling guns become a pair of feathers tickling your body, gently sliding from your back down to your waist. He is so lost in the sheer sight of you that he can’t even register Yoongi’s presence in the room. 

“You have a rep among us lowlifes, you know,” he softly kisses your shoulder. 

“How so?” 

“Call me crazy, but every time I keep post outside, you suddenly feel this need to fuck your man for some reason. Then you scream so loud that one would think you’re doing it on purpose to get me horny,” his hands reach your ass and he gives it a firm squeeze, “which you do by the way.” 

“Yeah, you’re fucking crazy,” you chuckle.

“Damn straight,” he responds, dead serious, not smiling at all. “I’m fucking crazy about you.” 

He heaves a deep sigh, lips parted, devouring you with his eyes. The warmth of his breath tickles you, and you feel the first drops of your slick starting to pool between your legs.

“He has an army of guys at his disposal,” he brushes your cheek with a single knuckle. “Why do you think he asked for me?” 

His hands keep exploring your body. With each curve he feels under his touch, he turns a little more feral, grows a little bigger, and breathes a little heavier, biting his lips not because he is turned on, but to tame himself.

“Because he knows you get me weak as fuck,” he whispers against your skin.

“I get you weak?” you chortle. “How come I’ve never known this?” 

“When it’s a cartel boss’s princess in question, you can’t really declare that shit out in the open on account of wanting to live,” he says matter of factly, “but since I have a free pass tonight, I can say whatever the fuck I want.” 

His mouth ghosts on your collarbones, but he fails to practice restraint. His lips are momentarily pressed on them, drawing a wet trail from one side to the other. He leaves his own body and watches himself from afar as he slowly drags the bust of your dress down. Not all the way, just enough to tease himself with the sight of your cleavage. He can’t help himself and licks a stripe between your tits. When he makes you moan for the first time, he immediately thinks he’s not built for this. You’re too much temptation, and he is too weak for you, willing to collapse this entire cartel if it means you’ll ride him for five more seconds.

“Fuck being a princess,” his rampant jealousy morphs into a desperate plea as he pulls your face closer. “Come be my queen instead.”

You take his lips between yours, and he loses all control.

What was meant as a teasing peck instantly turns into a very heavy makeout session. Messy. Wet. Pornographically loud. Your hands in his hair, his fingertips sunk into your thighs, his cock throbbing harder under you every time your teeth tugs at his lips. You remember that hunger from somewhere.

The creak of the chair and the sound of metal clinking steal your attention. You break the kiss and turn around to witness a very tense Yoongi, the only other man who kisses you like this.

“If you’re flinching just with a kiss, we’re gonna have a fucking problem later on, boss. This is going to get a lot worse,” Jungkook warns him, then grins like a maniac. “I’m about to go all the way with your girl.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but there’s an equally deranged smile on his lips. 

“Nervous?” you coo at Jungkook. 

“Wouldn’t you be if your favorite pornstar was perched on your lap like this?” he licks his lips. “I’m a huge fan.” 

He reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer and takes out a miniature vial filled with white powder, then draws a line across your tits. He snorts the coke so deeply like it’s his backup supply of oxygen, and when he looks up at you again, his blown pupils almost completely eclipse his irises. You are pleased. You are aroused. You are loving this, and you want to see how much more feral he can get over you.

“Which one of my movies do you like the best?” you cradle his face. 

“Prison guard,” he answers without a beat. “By a landslide.” 

“It’s the latex, isn’t it?” 

“It’s everything about you,” he growls, jaw clenched with animalistic desire. “Fucking step on me.”

His fingers brush against the blackletter S tattoo right between your tits, and his face contorts upon the mental image he created for himself.

“It’s okay. I know a guy,” he kisses your chest. “It’ll be a J in no time.” 

He pulls you into another kiss, this time a lot deeper, messier. You moan into each other’s mouths, and the slurping sounds echo in the suite. You grind faster on his lap, stuck between wanting to tease him and making him cum untouched for you. 

“I always imagine it’s you when I get my dick sucked. I can’t help it,” he confesses into your ear, voice almost like a whimper as he sneaks one hand between your legs to caress your supple thighs. “I don’t care if it’s for one night, you’re finally mine.” 

He finally starts unpacking you, dragging down the straps of your dress first. Slowly, still teasing himself as if he’s not gonna die if you so much as kiss his cock. Then he yanks your bust down and reveals your breasts, almost passing out at the sight.

“I can be your side bitch. That could be my new job,” he fondles them, falling in love with the way they feel in his palms. “Now that would be the promotion I fucking deserve.” 

“Being his right-hand man doesn’t cut it?” you sneer. 

“No, but you being my wife would.” 

He traps your nipple in between his lips and starts sucking on it, his tongue stealing a couple of licks every now and then. He stays latched to you as you undress him. Blazer off, shirt off, belt off. Before you take his pants off, he trades places with you and makes you sit on the couch, then kneels before you like a faithful servant. Your thighs make a sticky sound as he spreads your legs, and he gulps way too thickly when he sees just how wet you are. 

“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” you tease, tangling your fingers into his locks again.

“I might, actually. You into ruining hot men?” he asks, face way too serious for it to be a joke. “No worries if not. I’ll just get my tear glands removed.”

He wraps his arms around your thighs and gets into position, staring at your folds just like a predator looks at its prey. 

“Look into his eyes when I eat your pussy,” he instructs. “Show off your new fucktoy.”

He licks one stripe across your cunt, and the sound that rips from your throat is unholy. 

He starts giving you the deepest, sloppiest, and loudest head of your goddamn life like he is trying to prove something. Your eyes meet Yoongi’s, and it thrills the shit out of you to watch him watch you. His eyes are all hooded, snitching on how he’s dying of arousal as his spoiled princess gets pleasured out of her mind by a total simp, his cock straining his pants. It’s almost art, the way it goes down. No sight in the world can be this fucking sublime. 

“Look at him. He fucking hates how much he loves this, but he can’t do anything about it,” Jungkook chuckles into your pussy. “He can’t go anywhere. He acts all tough, but we both know what a fucking simp he is for you.” 

Two fingers curl into you as he licks a slow drag from your slit to your clit, giving it a strong suck at the end. You spit on your fingers and play with your nipples, riding his face faster for as much friction as you can get. He pins you in your place and spreads your lips, then starts flicking his tongue on your clit so fast that a buzzing sensation sets in.

“D–Deeper… Fuck me deepe— Yes. Now suck harder. Spit on it, baby, get it slipp— God, yes. Yes. YES, HARDER!!!”

You fall apart on his tongue, getting sucked hard and fingered deep just like you’ve ordered. He doesn’t let go until he reaches that sweet spot of overstimulation, enjoying the sight of you squirming for him just for a little while. 

“But if he wants to be with you, he’s gonna have to watch me wreck you,” he rises on his knees, chin covered with your slick, and pulls you close to let you taste yourself. “Now sit on my cock, beautiful.”

He stands for you to undo his pants first, and you swallow hard when you face his crotch, fully salivating when his cock springs free. Leaking. Flushed. Huge. Raging erection staring at you to devour it. You lean in and steal a taste from his tip. Low, almost quiet sounds of pleasure escape his lips as you tease his slit, but when you lose control and choke on his girth, he full-on growls. 

“God, you’re fucking killing me,” he throws his head back, eyes fluttering shut like your lips were rimmed with morphine.

He wants to fuck your throat and your cunt, and it’s driving him crazy that he can’t do both at the same time. If he lets you blow him any longer, he’s gonna grab a fistful of your hair, and god knows what will follow afterwards. He barely manages to peel himself away and sits back down, pulling you onto his lap again. 

“Into me,” he pulls your body closer, your back flush against his chest. “Spread wide so your man sees everything perfectly.” 

You gasp when his tip prods your entrance, and it turns into a drawn-out moan when he starts sinking into you, inch by thick, delicious inch. As Yoongi watches another man take what’s his, he makes the kind of sound grown men are not supposed to make. He is so fucking into it, leaking at the sight of Jungkook’s thick cock stretching you, wet squelch of your pussy complete music to his ears. A part of him is riddled with jealousy, but the part that is infested with fatal amounts of lust consumes it at record speed like flesh-eating bacteria. 

It doesn’t matter how much time Jungkook takes to disappear into you; he is still actively losing a piece of his mind permanently. His lips are latched to your neck, your arm is thrown back behind his nape, his hands are fondling your tits, and his cock is buried six feet under you, fucking you so hard like he’s going to die within the next ten minutes. He can’t believe you’re actually falling apart on his lap, screaming horrendous profanities with eyes squeezed shut. A sight he’s dreamed of, drooled over, jerked off to, now in technicolor, rushing in his veins worse than the coke he snorted and getting him twice as high. 

“You’re gonna kill me. God, you’re gonna fucking kill me,” he keeps repeating, voice faded as fuck as he licks into your ear. “Should I call over one of my boys to eat your pussy, too, huh? Do you wanna be a proper slut for me?” 

He shoves his fingers inside your mouth and collects your spit, then starts rubbing your clit, swollen and sticky, desperately fast like a starved animal. Nothing else exists in this moment. It’s just him and you, and this is all about how he’s the one you’re crumbling over, how he’s the one making you drool with your eyes rolling back, and how you’re moaning his name. 

RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR MAN!

“That’s it. Let go. Show him who’s really the boss. Show him who you really want,” he orders, laughing more deliriously as his arousal peaks, seconds away from snapping. “I love you. God, I fucking love you. I’ll fill you up so good, then I’m gonna watch him eat it. Milk me. Milk it out of me, baby, you’re fucking KILLING ME WITH THIS!!!” 

Jungkook assumed it would be you, but it’s Yoongi who reaches the finish line first, cumming untouched simply by watching this beautiful disaster. You can’t believe what has just unraveld before you, and he looks so fucking good, all fucked out without a single touch, that it pushes you over the edge. Jungkook senses the danger when you clench too hard around him and forces himself to his absolute limit to hold it. Until he makes sure those rhythmic pulses around him are fully involuntary. When he finally lets go, an inhumane sound rips from his throat, so guttural it could be a scream of agony. His orgasm gives him a terrible instant headache like a brain freeze, and you can feel the warm wetness gushing out of you, making you wonder just how large that load was.

A dense hush of pure satiation falls over the room, and your faded chuckles and heavy breathing are the only thing that echoes for a while. This is bliss. Utter and unmitigated bliss. You rest in Jungkook’s embrace until your limbs are loaded with some strength again, then you carefully pull him out of you. You stand up, thick strings of cum dripping down your thighs, and undo Yoongi’s restraints, soothing his cuffburns with soft kisses. 

“You got a bit carried away there with the confessions, Jeon,” he smirks at Jungkook. 

“Hey, what happens in the scene, stays in the scene, man,” Jungkook answers, one arm draped over his eyes, still trying to catch his breath. 

“So if I asked you to tag team her with me right now, you wouldn’t do it. Is that what you’re saying?” 

Jungkook removes his arm and looks at him, trying to assess how serious he really is, but all he can see is yet another enigmatic smile. Yoongi rises to his feet, reclaims your lips for himself again, then gallantly reaches for your hand and places a kiss on it as if this is your special day. As if you’re not all disheveled, covered in cum and spit. 

“I’ll take over the pussy worship duties for a while,” he declares. “Join us if you can manage to recover.” 

You cross the threshold to the bedroom hand in hand, and Jungkook watches you kiss Yoongi while removing his blazer. Then undo his belt. Then he watches Yoongi wrap the belt around your wrists and lay you down on the bed. Even though he just came, his cock faintly throbs. He might have accidentally picked up an addiction worse than cocaine tonight. 

Fifty million can’t hold a fucking candle to this narcotic delight.

[seokbite]

DIET PEPSI! ✶﹒j.jk

─── losing all my innocence in the back seat ☆◞ ៸៸ After years of being together, you’ve reached a moment in your relationship with Jungkook that feels both thrilling and overwhelming; a turning point where trust, love, and vulnerability all collide. With him, everything has always felt certain, but this step still comes with a quiet kind of fear. Late at night, wrapped in the familiar comfort of his favorite car, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you and the weight of a decision that will change everything. NOW PLAYING ⌗﹐ diet pepsi by addison rae ⤸

៸៸ 🏁 jeon jungkook  x f ! reader ﹐☆ street racer jungkook  & innocent reader established relationship  smut car sex dry humping slight tit play cowgirl illegal street racing fluff like really fluffy (the reader is so love sick but so is jk so) soft sex ➜﹒ minors do not interact 

▹ word count ✶﹐5.6k

The night feels like it’s breathing, it was slow and electric, in a way that the daylight never is— as you stand tucked between strangers and shadows, the city’s pulse thrumming beneath your feet like a second heartbeat that doesn’t belong to you but somehow syncs anyway.

The street is blocked off in a way that looks careless to anyone passing by, but you know better, there’s intention in the chaos a rhythm to the way bodies crowd the sidewalks, to the way engines rev low and hungry. Neon spills across the pavement in fractured colors, catching on polished metal, You clutch your jacket tighter around yourself, not because you’re cold, but because your nerves have wound so tight they’ve started to hum.

But then you see him, even from where you stand, half-hidden behind a taller figure and a flickering streetlight, you can see him leaning against the driver’s side of his car like he owns the night itself, like the dark bends a little closer just to hear what he might say. Jungkook doesn’t need to be loud to be noticed. He never has.

There’s something about him here, something sharper, more dangerous, like the version of him you get in stolen hours and quiet mornings has been stripped down to reveal the edge beneath. His hair falls into his eyes as he tilts his head, listening to something one of the other racers says, but his mouth curves in that familiar, almost cocky smirk that makes your stomach twist in a way that’s equal parts affection and something far more reckless. Desire. He looks untouchable like this. Unreachable even. Like the world revolves around the moment his hands curl around that steering wheel.

But you know better.

Because you’ve seen the way those same hands soften when they touch you. The way his voice drops, loses its bite, becomes something quieter; something that belongs only to you. The way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, like you’re something fragile he doesn’t quite trust himself to hold, but can’t stay away from either. Like glass, porcelain and serene. You belong to him, and only this version of him belongs to you.

Your heart stutters just thinking about it, and for a second, the noise around you fades into something distant, muffled, like you’ve slipped underwater.

Tonight.

The word settles heavy in your chest a secret you’ve been carrying for days now, turning it over and over in your mind until it’s worn smooth at the edges. You’d promised yourself that tonight would be the night. Not because he’s ever pressured you, not because he’s ever asked for more than you’ve been willing to give, but because something in you has shifted, it bloomed into something that felt right, a certainty that you were ready for this, more than ready.

You want him. Not just in the soft, safe ways you’ve known, not just the soft kisses or the touching below the belt that only went so far. You want it all, the closeness. the vulnerability. The way his name might sound when it’s pulled from your lips without restraint.

Your fingers curl into your sleeves as heat creeps up your neck, your thoughts tangling with the sharp, bright edge of nerves.

He doesn’t know. The idea makes your stomach flip, equal parts excitement and fear twisting together until you can’t tell them apart. You’d decided you would tell him after the race— after he wins, because in your mind there’s no other outcome, not really. Jungkook doesn’t lose.

You’ll find him in the aftermath, when the adrenaline is still singing through his veins and his grin is wide and wild, and you’ll pull him aside, tug him somewhere quieter, somewhere the noise can’t reach, and then you’ll tell him. Your breath catches just imagining it.

A sudden surge of shouting snaps you back, the crowd shifting, pressing forward as engines roar to life in unison, loud enough to rattle through your bones. The racers are moving now, sliding into their cars, doors slamming shut. Your eyes lock onto Jungkook instantly, like they always do, tracking the way he pushes off the car and slips into the driver’s seat with practiced ease, his movements smooth, confident, because this is second nature to him. This is where he belongs.

For a split second he looks up, and somehow, impossibly, his gaze finds you, like it always does. The world narrows, the noise dulling at the edges as his eyes meet yours across the distance, and the sharpness in his expression softens, just barely, just enough for you to see it. His lips twitch, a slight smile only you've been known to see really.

Your heart stumbles over itself.

And then it’s gone. He looks away, hands settling on the wheel, focus snapping back into place as the tension builds, thick and electric, stretching tighter and tighter until it feels like the whole street might snap under the weight of it.

You press your lips together, breath shallow, pulse racing in time with the revving engines.

“Three—”

Someone shouts, voice cutting through the chaos.

Your fingers tighten.

“Two—”

This is it.

Your chest aches with it.

“One—”

Tires screech, engines roar, and the cars launch forward in a blur of motion and sound, the force of it hitting you like a wave as the crowd erupts, screams and cheers crashing together into something wild and uncontainable. You surge forward with them, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break free from your ribs, your eyes locked on the streak of black and chrome that is him as he tears down the street. Excitement floods you chasing away the nerves and the fear as you watched the cars blur on.

You continue to watch as the race stretches out like a blade drawn across the night, it was something sharp, gleaming almost, impossible to look away from. And you feel it everywhere— in your chest, in your throat, in the way your breath keeps catching at the worst possible moments as Jungkook’s car tears down the street in a streak of motion that feels almost unreal, like the science behind it could go unexplained.

this time, there’s something wrong threading through the thrill, because another car clings to him like a shadow that refuses to be shaken, its headlights cutting just as bright, its engine roaring just as loud, and no matter how hard you will it, no matter how tightly you press your hands together like you can somehow force the outcome to bend in his favor, he doesn’t pull ahead.

They stay side by side, dangerously close matching each other in a way that makes your stomach twist, because Jungkook isn’t supposed to be matched.. No, he's supposed to lead like he always does. Yet the finish line looms closer with every passing second and still, still, they’re even, the distance between them stubborn and unyielding as the crowd around you swells into something untamed and wild.

For a single, fleeting, terrifying heartbeat, doubt slips in, quiet but cutting— what if he loses? It wouldn't be the end of the world, truthfully. But Jungkook hates losing, more than anything. “Come on…” you whisper, the words dissolving into the noise before they even fully form, your entire body leaning forward like you can somehow reach him, like you can push him past the invisible line that keeps holding him back.

but then something changes. It’s subtle, almost invisible to anyone who doesn’t know him the way you do, the way his car dips just slightly, the smallest hesitation that makes your breath hitch in confusion because it feels wrong, it feels like a step backward when there’s no time left for anything but forward, and for half a second your heart drops, panic flaring in your chest.

Jungkook rarely hesitates. If anything Jungkook calculates is every movement. When he moves, it’s with intention so exact it borders on instinct. The engine snarls louder and in one swift, breathtaking motion he cuts in, slipping into a gap so impossibly narrow it feels like watching something defy logic, his car surging forward with a burst of speed that steals the breath straight from your lungs. The distance breaks. It finally breaks. And suddenly he’s ahead, just enough, just barely, but it’s there.

he finish line flashes beneath him in a blur of light and sound that explodes outward into chaos as the crowd erupts, the second car crossing only seconds after but it didn't matter, because Jungkook had already crossed, he already won.

The noise crashes over you all at once, people shouting and laughing and surging forward like the street itself has come alive beneath their feet, but all you can focus on is him, the way his car slows, the way it rolls to a stop like the final note of something powerful.

Your breath comes back in uneven bursts, your chest rising too fast, your whole body humming with adrenaline that isn’t yours but feels like it is, like you’ve been racing right alongside him, and when the driver’s door swings open it feels like the world pauses just long enough to let you see him clearly. He steps out into the chaos like he belongs there, like the night carved a space just for him, his hair falling messily over his forehead, his chest still rising with the remnants of the race, his expression lit up with something fierce and bright and so undeniably him that it makes your heart ache.

People crowd him instantly, hands clapping his shoulders, voices calling his name, praise and excitement spilling over in waves— but he barely registers it, barely acknowledges the hands reaching for him, because almost immediately his head lifts, his gaze cutting through the crowd with something sharp and searching until it lands on you. And then he’s moving. You don’t even remember deciding to run, only that suddenly you are, weaving through bodies, your heart pounding all over again but lighter now, brighter, laughter already bubbling up in your chest because he’s coming toward you at the same time, pushing past people without a second thought, like nothing else exists, like no one else matters.

“Jungkook—” you barely get his name out before his arms are around you as he lifts you clean off the ground, the motion stealing a startled squeal from your lips as the world spins, your laughter spilling out freely, uncontrollably, your hands gripping his shoulders as he twirls you like you’re something weightless, something he’s been reaching for all night.

“You saw that?” he breathes, his voice right there, warm and exhilarated, threaded with adrenaline.

You can’t stop laughing, can’t stop the way your whole body feels lit up just being this close to him, caught in the aftermath of something he loves so fiercely. “Of course I saw it!” you shoot back, breathless and grinning as he sets you down, but he doesn’t let you go because the second your feet hit the ground his hands slide to your waist and he’s kissing you. It's reckless like your love for him. It leaves you dizzy in a completely different way.

You laugh softly against his lips, the sound melting into the kiss as your fingers clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer without even thinking, and when he pulls back it’s only for a second, just long enough for you to see the way his eyes are shining before he leans in again, stealing another kiss like he can’t help himself. “Show-off,” you murmur when he finally lets you breathe, your smile impossible to hide, your voice still laced with laughter.

“Only for you,” he answers easily, his smirk softer now, his thumb brushes absentpatting his shoulder before disappearing back into the crowd, swallowed up by the lingering energy of the night.

A hand lands on his shoulder, pulling him just slightly away, and you both glance over as the second-place racer steps up, Minho. He offers a nod that carries equal parts respect and resignation, the tension of the race already dissolving.

Jungkook straightens just a little, exchanging a few brief words, a quick acknowledgment of what just happened, mentioning the near tie that giving his own praise back to Minho. Then it’s over as quickly as it started, Minho patting his shoulder before disappearing back into the crowd, swallowed up by the lingering energy of the night.

Then it's back to only you and him again. Your Jungkook. Your fingers slip into his hand almost instinctively, threading through his as something softer, something more intentional begins to bloom inside your chest, your earlier nerves rising again but different now, laced with a kind of quiet excitement that makes your pulse flutter instead of spike. You tug gently, drawing his attention fully back to you, a small, knowing smile playing at your lips as you tilt your head just slightly, letting that secret you’ve been holding all night shimmer just beneath the surface.

“I have a surprise for you,” you say, your voice like honey, but still tinged with something daring that makes his brows lift, curiosity sparking instantly in his gaze.

“A surprise?” he echoes, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, he was intrigued, as his grip on your hand tightens just slightly. “Should I be worried?”

“Maybe,” you tease, your smile widening just a fraction as you tug him toward the car, your heart beginning to race again for an entirely different reason now, something warmer, something that curls low and steady instead of sharp and frantic. “Can we go somewhere?”

He studies you for a second like he's trying to piece together what it was you were trying to hint at. He doesn’t understand so, he lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he reaches for the door, already giving in. “Yeah,” he says, easy and sure, like there was never a chance he’d say no. “Let’s go.”

The car door shuts out the noise of the crowd the moment you slip inside, the chaos of the street fading into a distant muffled sound. The engine hums to life beneath you, and then you're moving the city lights streaking past in blurred ribbons of color as Jungkook drives with that same effortless confidence, one hand on the wheel, the other still loosely holding yours.

he further you get, the quieter it becomes, the noise of the race dissolving into the hush of empty streets and open roads, and you can feel it settling around you, wrapping the moment in something softer, something more private. Your thumb brushes over his knuckles absentmindedly, your thoughts spiraling inward, circling that secret you’ve been holding, turning it over and over as your nerves begin to bloom again, warm and fluttering and impossible to ignore.

When he turns onto the familiar road, your breath catches softly, recognition settling in your chest. But you were sure of this, more sure than you've ever been before.

You’ve been here so many times before for late date nights when you were able to sneak away from your parents who didn't approve of Jungkook. Tonight feels different, heavier almost.

The car slows, then stops, the engine fading into silence as the world narrows down to just the two of you, wrapped in darkness and the soft glow of the dashboard lights. Jungkook glances over, his expression quieter now, the sharp edge of the race softened into something more familiar, more yours, his hand still resting over yours as his thumb brushes lightly against your skin. “So,” he murmurs, his voice low in the stillness, curiosity threading through it as he tilts his head just slightly, eyes searching yours. “What’s this surprise?”

Your heart stutters, then steadies, then races all over again. You swallow softly, your lips parting before the words come out in a voice that’s quieter than you expected, softer, but steady all the same. “It’s me.”

For a second, he doesn’t move, he doesn't even so much as blink. The words hang there between you, you can see the confusion flicker across his expression, subtle but real, his brows pulling together just slightly as he lets out a small breath of disbelief, like he’s not sure he heard you right. “You?” he repeats, the word slower this time, searching, his gaze flicking between your eyes like the answer might be hidden there. “What do you mean?”

You don’t answer. Not with words at least. Because if you try to explain it, you think you might lose your nerve, you think it might unravel into something smaller than what you’re feeling, something easier to dismiss. And you don’t want that. You want him to see it, to understand it in the quiet way the two of you have always understood each other, in the spaces where words don’t quite reach.

So instead, your fingers slip from beneath his, your hands moving to the buttons of your jacket. Slowly.

Your heart pounds louder with every small movement, your breath catching as you begin to undo them one by one, the soft sound of each button slipping free echoing louder than it should in the stillness of the car. You can feel his gaze on you instantly, the shift in him subtle but unmistakable, his body going just a little more still, his attention sharpening as he watches you— really watches you now, like he’s trying to understand what you’re doing, what you’re saying without speaking.

The jacket falls open.

Your fingers hesitate for half a second before they move again, lifting the hem of your shirt, slowly, carefully, your pulse fluttering wildly beneath your skin as the air brushes against newly exposed warmth. There’s a heat creeping up your neck, spreading across your cheeks in a soft, unmistakable blush, your nerves rising again in a way that makes your chest feel tight and light all at once.

And still— he doesn’t stop you. Jungkook just watches. His eyes follow every movement, every small shift, the usual cockiness gone, replaced with something quieter. There’s no teasing in his expression now, just a focus that makes your stomach twist, because he understands now, or at least he’s starting to.

Your hands still.

The silence stretches.

“Are you sure?” he asks softly.

Your eyes lift to meet his, your heart racing so fast it almost steals your breath, but you don’t look away. You don’t hesitate this time. You nod, slowly.

The blush on your cheeks deepens, warmth blooming across your skin. “I am,” you whisper. The moment stretches, soft and trembling at the edges, until Jungkook finally moves, slowly at first, like he’s giving you time to change your mind, like he’s making sure this is something you’re stepping into willingly and not just getting swept away by the heat of the night. His hand finds yours again, fingers sliding between yours with a quiet familiarity that grounds you instantly, anchoring you in something real.

He laces your fingers together, squeezing just slightly, and then his other hand lifts, brushing gently beneath your chin, guiding your gaze fully back to his. His other hand lifts slowly brushing beneath your chin with a softness that contrasts everything else about him. He tilts your face up just enough to meet his gaze fully, and there’s something unguarded there now, something searching, something that makes your chest tighten before he even closes the distance.

When he kisses you, it’s deeper than before, like he’s letting himself feel every second of it instead of rushing through the moment. His lips press to yours with intention and it pulls a soft, unsteady breath from you as your body leans into his without thinking, your hand tightening against his shoulder as though you need something solid to hold onto.

His hands follow exploring the space you’re giving him, settling at your waist, brushing along your sides in a way that makes your breath catch. He breaks the kiss reluctantly, like he has to remind himself to breathe, his forehead hovering close to yours, his grip still steady but not confining. His eyes search your face again “Are you sure?” he asks again, his voice low and gentle, the kind of tone he only ever uses with you, the kind that makes your chest ache because it holds so much more than just the question itself, it holds care, and patience, and something that feels a lot like love wrapped up in restraint.

You nod without hesitation, the nerves still fluttering beneath your skin but no longer overwhelming. You don’t pull away, instead, you move closer, your fingers tightening in his before slipping free so you can grab onto the front of his leather jacket, tugging him toward you with a boldness that surprises you just as much as it surprises him.

There’s a small spark of confidence there now, something new, something that flickers to life in your chest as you close the space between you again, your lips brushing his briefly before you shift your weight, climbing over the seat with a soft, breathy laugh when your knee bumps against his thigh, the movement a little clumsy but entirely yours.

Jungkook goes quiet beneath you, his body going almost completely still like he’s afraid to move too quickly, like he doesn’t want to break whatever this is before it fully settles. His hands hover for a moment, uncertain in a way that feels so unlike him it almost makes your heart ache, and when his eyes lift to meet yours they’re wide, really wide, in a way you’ve never seen before.

You pause there for a moment, your hands still curled into his jacket, your breath uneven as you take him in from this new angle. The thought comes to you so naturally it almost feels like it’s always been there, waiting for you to notice it fully.

He’s beautiful. You've known that, of course but here and now, in such a vulnerable state; Jungkook was breathtaking.

Not just in the obvious ways, the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the dark intensity of his eyes— but in the way he’s looking at you right now, like you’re something he doesn’t want to mishandle, something he’s afraid to ruin by moving too fast. There’s something raw in it, something honest, and it makes your chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with how deeply you feel seen.

“God…” he exhales softly, the word slipping from him like he didn’t mean to say it out loud, his hands finally settling at your waist, careful and warm, like he’s still asking permission even now. His thumbs brush lightly against your sides, grounding, steadying, and his gaze doesn’t leave yours for even a second. “You’re… you’re so beautiful.”

You move ever so slightly in his lap, grinding down to create a morsel of friction, enough to having you heaving a heavy sigh, Jungkook's hands tightening on your waist with practiced restraint. Heat blooms across your cheeks again, but it’s softer this time, less about nerves and more about the way your heart seems to fold in on itself at the sound of his voice like that.

“I love you,” he adds, even quieter now, like the words are something sacred. His grip on your waist steadies, even as you continue moving your hips slowly against his. "You know that, right?”

Your breath catches, your chest tightening as the weight of it settles in, because you do, you’ve always known, he makes sure to tell you oh so often. “And I’m gonna take care of you,” he continues, his voice low and certain. “Always.”

You nod, because you believe him. You’ve always believed him. The car feels smaller now, the air thicker, The only light comes from the faint glow of the dashboard and the distant city haze filtering through the windows. It paints soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his lips part slightly as he watches you.

Your hands slide up from his jacket to his shoulders, then higher, fingers threading into the soft strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. You lean down and kiss him again— deeper this time, letting the hunger you’ve been holding back for so long finally surface. Jungkook responds instantly, one hand slipping down to press warm against the bare skin of your lower back, pulling you closer.

A soft sound escapes you when his tongue brushes yours, tentative at first, then bolder. The kiss turns wetter, heavier. Your hips roll against his again, slower this time, more deliberate, and you feel him twitch beneath you through his jeans. The hard line of his cock pressing up against your core makes your breath hitch.

"Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth, the curse low and reverent. His fingers flex on your waist. “Baby… you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You smile shyly, even as heat pools low in your belly. “I think I have some idea.”

Jungkook’s eyes darken. He sits up straighter, bringing your bodies flush together, and kisses you again. His hands roam, sliding up your sides, thumbs grazing the underside of your breasts through your bra. When you arch into his touch, he groans softly, the sound vibrating through his chest.

His hands trace your ribs, your waist, then move higher until his palms cup your breasts over the lace of your bra. His thumbs circle your nipples through the fabric, and you gasp, hips jerking forward involuntarily. Jungkook curses under his breath. “So sensitive already…”

He leans in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, then lower, until his lips close around one nipple through the lace. The wet heat of his mouth makes your head fall back, a shaky moan slipping from your lips. Your fingers tighten in his hair as he sucks gently, then switches to the other side, giving it the same slow, devoted attention.

You’re rocking against him steadily now, the friction against your clit sending sparks through your body with every roll of your hips. The ache between your legs is growing unbearable— empty and throbbing.

“Jungkook…” His name comes out breathy, almost pleading.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips shiny, eyes blown wide with lust. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

You swallow, cheeks burning, but you don’t look away. “I want you. All of you. Inside me.”

Something shifts in his expression, raw hunger mixed with that same tender protectiveness. He nods, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he says softly. “We’ll go slow. If it hurts, you tell me and we stop. Promise?”

“Promise.”

He helps you shift back just enough so he can reach between you and unbutton his jeans. The sound of the zipper feels impossibly loud in the quiet car. When he pushes his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself, your eyes drop.

He’s hard, thick, the head already glistening with pre-cum. The sight makes your mouth go dry and your pussy clench around nothing. Jungkook wraps a hand around himself, giving one slow stroke as he watches your reaction. “We don’t have to rush,” he reminds you, voice strained.

But you’re done waiting.

You reach down, brushing his hand aside, and wrap your own fingers around him. He’s hot, velvet-smooth skin over steel. The way he hisses through his teeth when you touch him makes you feel powerful. You stroke him once, twice, learning the feel of him, and he lets out a broken groan, head tipping back against the seat. “Baby— fuck—”

You lean in and kiss him again while you guide the head of his cock to your entrance. Your panties are still on, pushed to the side now, and the first brush of him against your slick folds makes you both moan. You’re soaked. Embarrassingly wet. The glide is easy as you rock your hips, letting just the tip press inside you.

Jungkook’s hands fly to your waist, gripping tight but not forcing you down. “Easy,” he whispers, voice tight with restraint. “Breathe for me.”

You do, inhaling shakily as you sink down another inch. There’s a stretch— burning, unfamiliar, but it’s not unbearable. It’s him. It’s Jungkook. That thought alone makes you relax, letting gravity and need pull you lower.

Halfway down, the pressure becomes sharper. You pause, breathing through it, forehead pressed to his. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, one hand sliding up your back to cradle your head, the other stroking soothing circles on your hip. “You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking good for me.”

You whimper at his praise, the words melting the last of your tension. You sink the rest of the way down in one slow, careful motion until he’s buried to the hilt inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

The fullness is overwhelming, almost too much. You feel stretched, claimed, connected in a way you’ve never been before. Jungkook is trembling beneath you, every muscle tight with the effort of staying still. “God… you’re so tight,” he groans, voice wrecked. “So warm. Fuck, I can feel you pulsing around me.”

You let out a shaky laugh that turns into a soft moan when he twitches inside you. “It feels… full.”

“Too much?” he asks immediately, concern cutting through the haze of lust.

You shake your head, rolling your hips experimentally. The drag of him against your walls sends a spark of pleasure through the discomfort. “No… just— move with me?”

Jungkook nods, eyes locked on yours. His hands guide your hips in a slow, gentle rhythm, small rocks at first, letting you adjust to the feeling of him moving inside you. Soon the burn fades, replaced by a deep, building pleasure. Every slide of his cock drags against that sensitive spot inside you, and when his thumb finds your clit, circling it with perfect pressure, your moans grow louder, less controlled.

“That’s it,” he praises, voice low and rough. “Ride me, baby. Use me however you need.” You brace your hands on his shoulders and start moving faster, chasing the feeling that’s coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. Jungkook meets every downward grind with a shallow thrust, careful not to go too hard, but giving you exactly what you crave.

The car fills with the sounds of skin against skin, heavy breathing, and broken whimpers of his name. “Jungkook— feels so good…”

“Yeah?” He sounds almost drunk on it. “You’re taking me so well. My perfect girl.” His free hand slides up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple just enough to make you cry out. The pleasure spikes sharply, pushing you closer to the edge.

“I’m— I think I’m close,” you gasp, hips stuttering.

“Come for me,” he urges, thumb pressing firmer on your clit, thrusts becoming a little deeper, a little faster. “Let me feel you come on my cock for the first time, baby. Please—”

The orgasm crashes over you without warning— white-hot and overwhelming. Your walls clench around him rhythmically as you cry out his name, body shaking in his lap. Jungkook groans loudly, burying his face in your neck as he fights to hold back, letting you ride out every wave.

When you finally slump against him, breathless and trembling, he presses soft kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. “So good,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking good.”

You can still feel him hard and throbbing inside you, but he makes no move to chase his own release. You lift your head, meeting his eyes. Your voice is hoarse but certain when you say: “Don’t stop. I want you to come inside me.”

Jungkook’s breath catches. His hands tighten on your hips.

“Are you sure?”

You nod, leaning in to kiss him slow and deep. “I’m yours,” you whisper against his lips. “All of me.”

That’s all it takes.

He flips you gently onto your back across the seats in one smooth motion, careful not to pull out. The new angle has him sinking even deeper, and you moan at the fresh stretch.

Jungkook braces one hand beside your head, the other holding your thigh open as he starts to thrust— slow and deep at first, then building steadily. His eyes never leave your face, watching every flicker of pleasure, every gasp, making sure you’re still with him.

The car rocks gently with his movements. The windows are starting to fog. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he groans your name like a prayer. “I love you,” he rasps between thrusts. “Fuck— I love you so much.”

You’re already climbing again, the angle hitting that perfect spot with every stroke. When his rhythm starts to falter, growing erratic and desperate, you clench around him deliberately.

“Come with me,” you beg softly. “Please, Jungkook—” He buries himself deep one last time, hips stuttering as he comes with a broken moan, pulsing hot inside you. The feeling of him filling you triggers your second orgasm— smaller but just as intense, your walls fluttering around him as you both ride it out together.

For a long moment, the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the faint creak of the leather seats. Jungkook collapses carefully over you, keeping most of his weight on his forearms so he doesn’t crush you. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips pressing lazy kisses to your damp skin.

You thread your fingers through his hair, holding him close as your heart slowly settles. After a while, he lifts his head, eyes soft and shining in the dim light.

“You okay?” he asks, voice gentle, thumb brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You smile, warm and sated, and nod. “More than okay.”

He kisses you slowly, tenderly, like he’s sealing a promise. “My girl,” he whispers against your lips. “All mine now.” You hum contentedly, pulling him back down for another kiss.

“Always was.”

n; loosing all my innocence in the backseat....

taglist; @merakoo

[yufawnz]

𝓣each me | part seven

synopsis : You and Jeon Jungkook have been inseparable since childhood, you, the adored literature student who shines effortlessly, and him, the brilliant but overlooked aerospace engineer who has only ever felt seen by you. When he confesses he’s fallen for Yebin and asks you to help him change confidence, attraction, intimacy you agree, thinking it’s harmless. But practice turns personal, lines blur, and as Jungkook becomes someone the world finally notices, you realize the cost. Helping him become someone else might mean losing the boy who was always yours.

pairings : nerd!jungkook x popularf!reader

genre : child hood friends to lovers, coming of age, university au

word count : 17.9k words

warnings : female reader is lowkey a player, jungkook is a virgin and inexperienced, heavy cursing / explicit language, jealousy / possessiveness, lots of miscommunication and misunderstanding, jungkook walks in on female reader having sex with someone else twice ????? ( ooppsss 🤪 ) oral sex ( giving & receiving ) usage of names like whore, bitch and especially cumslut and fucktoy, public / semi public sex, sub!jungkook → dom!jungkook, rough sex , overstimulation , hicleys ( biting / bruises ) ,corruption kink , power dynamics shift , possible creampie / unprotected sex ,multiple orgasms , begging

spotify playlist

part seven : loose control & misunderstandings

─── flashback ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Back in high school, you and Jimin had existed in the same world but somehow never in the same space. You were both known, both noticed, both the kind of people others gravitated toward without effort. Jimin had been the golden boy of the school, the captain of the football team, always surrounded by people, always carrying himself with that easy confidence that made him seem untouchable.

Teachers liked him, juniors admired him, and his teammates followed him without question. He was loud when he wanted to be, charming without trying, the kind of person who could walk into a room and immediately own it.

And you you were different, but just as visible. You weren’t just popular you were everywhere. Academically strong, effortlessly balancing studies, extracurriculars, events, debates your name was always somewhere on the notice board, always attached to something impressive.

You had your own circle, your own presence, your own kind of confidence that didn’t rely on anyone else. People knew you, respected you, talked about you.But despite all of that you and Jimin had never actually crossed paths not properly.Not until that one random afternoon in the school library.

It had been quieter than usual that day, the kind of quiet that made even the smallest sounds echo faintly between the tall shelves stacked with books. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting soft golden patches across the wooden tables and the polished floor, the air carrying that familiar scent of paper and dust.

You had been standing near the back shelves, one hand braced against the wood as you stretched slightly on your toes, your fingers barely brushing the spine of a book placed just out of reach.“Ugh,” you muttered under your breath, trying again.

The shelf was just high enough to be annoying.You tilted your head, calculating for a second, then tried to jump slightly to grab it and failed.“Seriously?” you whispered, a little irritated now.You glanced around briefly to see if there was a stool nearby, but the closest one was a few shelves away and you were too stubborn to go get it.

So you tried again.This time you stretched a little more, your fingertips grazing the edge of the book and just as you were about to attempt another ridiculous jump a hand reached past you effortlessly. Long fingers wrapped around the book you had been struggling to grab, pulling it off the shelf with ease.

You froze for a second then slowly turned your head. Jimin stood beside you, holding the book casually in his hand like it hadn’t required any effort at all. He glanced down at the cover briefly before looking at you, one eyebrow raised slightly.“This one?” he asked. For a moment you just stared at him.

Not because you didn’t recognize him you did everyone did.But because this was the first time he had ever been this close, the first time you had ever actually interacted with him beyond just knowing of his existence.You cleared your throat slightly, straightening up.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound casual despite the faint embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Thanks.” He handed it to you without hesitation, his fingers brushing yours briefly as you took it.“No problem,” he said.There was a small pause.

The kind that happens when two people who technically know of each other suddenly find themselves standing face to face for the first time without the usual noise of school life around them. Jimin glanced at the shelf again, then back at you.

“You could’ve just asked for help,” he added lightly. You huffed a small laugh, crossing your arms as you looked up at him.“And miss out on the struggle? No thanks.”That earned a quiet chuckle from him.

“Fair point,” he admitted.You looked down at the book in your hands, brushing your thumb along the edge absentmindedly before glancing back up at him. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said.Jimin shrugged slightly.

“Coach made us finish early today,” he replied. “Figured I’d actually do something productive for once.”You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“In the library?” you teased. “That’s new.”

He smirked a little at that.“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said. “I have a brain too, you know.”

“Debatable,” you shot back immediately.For a second he just looked at you and then he laughed.

And it wasn’t the loud, attention grabbing kind of laugh people usually heard from him on the field or in the hallways it was quieter “Wow,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Didn’t think you were this mean.” You tilted your head, feigning innocence.

“I’m not mean,” you said. “I’m honest.”

“Right,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.Another pause settled between you, but this time it didn’t feel awkward it felt easy.Comfortable, in a strange, unexpected way. Jimin glanced at the book in your hands again.

“What’s it about?” he asked.You looked down at it briefly before answering.“Psychology,” you said. “I needed it for an assignment.”He nodded slowly.

“Figures.”You frowned slightly.

“What does that mean?”He shrugged, leaning casually against the shelf beside you.“You just seem like the type,” he said. “Always doing something extra.”You rolled your eyes.

“And you seem like the type who avoids doing anything extra.”

“Hey,” he protested lightly. “That’s not entirely true.” You smirked.“Just mostly.”He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head again.“Okay, maybe.”

The conversation drifted from there, surprisingly natural despite the fact that this was technically your first real interaction. What started as a simple exchange turned into a longer conversation than either of you had expected, the two of you leaning against the shelves, talking about classes, teachers, random things that didn’t matter but somehow felt interesting in the moment.

Time passed without either of you noticing.At some point, someone called Jimin’s name from across the library, breaking the bubble you hadn’t even realized you were in.He glanced over his shoulder before looking back at you.“I should go,” he said.

You nodded slightly “Yeah, same.”There was a brief pause before he straightened up fully.“I’ll see you around?” he said, almost like a question.You met his gaze for a second before nodding.

“Yeah,” you said.And just like that something shifted. Because after that day, you didn’t just exist in the same world anymore.You started noticing each other. And eventually that one small moment in the library turned into something neither of you had planned.

What started as a coincidence slowly turned into something that felt almost intentional, like both of you were quietly adjusting your routines without ever admitting it out loud.The library became your place.

At first, it was just a shared table and occasional conversations, but soon it turned into something more consistent, something expected. You would walk in and instinctively look for him, and more often than not, he was already there, slouched in his chair with a pen in his hand, pretending to study but clearly distracted the second you appeared.

And if, on the rare occasion, he wasn’t there yet, you’d still sit at that same table, your focus drifting every few minutes toward the entrance until he finally walked in like he had somewhere better to be but still chose this.

He started saving you a seat without making it obvious, his bag casually placed on the chair beside him until you arrived, and you started bringing snacks you accidentally bought too much of, sliding them across the table like it didn’t matter when it clearly did.

The conversations came easily, never forced, never awkward, always slipping from one topic to another without either of you noticing how much time had passed.

“Did you even write anything?” you asked one afternoon, glancing at the same empty page he’d been staring at for the last ten minutes.Jimin didn’t even look up, spinning his pen lazily between his fingers. “Yeah.”

You leaned forward slightly, narrowing your eyes at the notebook. “There’s literally nothing there.”He finally looked at you then, completely unfazed. “I’m thinking.”You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You’ve been ‘thinking’ for half an hour.”

“Good things take time,” he replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips.“You’re so full of shit,” you muttered, but there was no real bite to it.He just grinned.

That was how it always went light teasing, small arguments that never really meant anything, the kind of back and forth that felt natural, like you had been doing this for much longer than you actually had.

And slowly, without either of you realizing when it crossed the line, the time you spent together didn’t feel limited to the library anymore.

One afternoon, as you were packing up your things, Jimin leaned back in his chair, watching you for a second like he was debating something in his head before finally speaking.“Hey,” he said casually. “Let’s get out of here.”You paused, looking up at him. “Where?”

He shrugged, grabbing his bag. “Anywhere that’s not this boring place.”You raised an eyebrow slightly. “You’re the one who keeps coming here.”

“Yeah,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “and now I’m bored of it.”You stared at him for a second, unimpressed.“Liar.”He laughed quietly, already walking toward the exit like he knew you’d follow anyway and you did.

The first time you left together, it didn’t feel like a big deal, but it changed everything. What used to be confined to quiet corners and whispered conversations between bookshelves suddenly stretched out into something more open, more real.

You started walking together after school, sometimes heading to a small café nearby, sometimes just wandering without a plan, letting the conversation carry you wherever it wanted to go.

There was something different about seeing him outside of school, without the noise of teammates or the constant attention he was used to. He was still confident, still effortlessly himself, but there was a quieter side to him that only seemed to show up when it was just the two of you.

And you liked that a lot more than you expected.It showed in small ways, the kind that didn’t feel significant at first but slowly started to mean everything.

The way he’d automatically walk on the side closest to the road without thinking about it, the way he’d remember small things you mentioned in passing and bring them up days later, the way his attention never seemed to drift when you were talking, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“You always talk this much?” he asked once, glancing at you sideways as you walked.You scoffed lightly. “You’re literally the one who keeps asking questions.”

“Yeah, because you keep answering,” he shot back. “Then stop asking,” you said, bumping your shoulder lightly into his.He smiled at that, shaking his head. “Not happening.”Moments like that became normal.

And somewhere between those walks, those shared drinks, those long conversations that stretched into early evenings, something shifted in a way neither of you could ignore anymore it wasn’t just friendship it wasn’t just convenience.

It was the way your steps started matching without thinking, the way silence between you didn’t feel awkward, the way your eyes lingered just a second too long before looking away.It was in the almost moments.

The ones where your hands brushed and neither of you pulled away immediately, where your laughter faded into something quieter as your eyes met, where the air between you felt heavier than it should.Neither of you said anything about it but you both felt it.

And with every passing day, it became harder to pretend that what was growing between you was something simple.It didn’t happen in some grand, dramatic way.There was no big confession in front of a crowd, no over the top gesture that everyone talked about for weeks.

It was just one day but somehow, that made it even more unforgettable.The day had started like any other classes dragging on longer than they should, teachers talking about things you were barely paying attention to, your mind wandering more than usual because you already knew how the afternoon would go.

You’d meet him in the library, sit across from each other, pretend to study, end up talking instead.Except that day felt different from the start, even if you couldn’t fully explain why.Jimin had been quieter.

Not in a bad way, not distant, just distracted, like something was sitting in the back of his mind the entire time. You noticed it immediately, the way he tapped his pen more than usual, the way his attention drifted even when you were talking.

“Why are you acting weird?” you finally asked, narrowing your eyes at him from across the table.He looked up quickly, almost like he hadn’t expected you to call him out.“I’m not acting weird,” he said, a little too quickly.You gave him a look.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair like he was debating whether to say something or not.Then he leaned back slightly in his chair, exhaling under his breath.“Okay,” he muttered. “Fine.”You raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He looked at you for a second longer before speaking again, his voice more casual than his expression.“Let’s go out.”You blinked.“…We go out all the time.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head slightly, his gaze steady on yours now. “Like an actual date.”For a second, your brain just stopped.The word date hung there between you, heavier than anything else he had ever said before.

Your heart skipped you tried to play it cool, even though you could feel your pulse picking up.“Oh,” you said, like it wasn’t a big deal. “That kind of going out.” Jimin let out a small breath, watching you carefully now.

“Yeah,” he said. “That kind.” there was a pause.But it felt like everything was sitting inside it.Then you smiled slightly, trying to ignore the way your chest felt suddenly too tight.“Okay,” you said.And just like that everything changed.The rest of the day passed in a blur.

You barely remembered how you got through your classes after that, your mind stuck replaying the moment over and over again, the way he had looked at you when he said it, the way your stomach flipped when you said yes.

And when school finally ended, you found him waiting for you.Not in the library this time outside.Leaning casually against the gate like he had been there for a while, hands in his pockets, scanning the crowd until his eyes landed on you.

And the second they did something softened in his expression.“Ready?” he asked simply.You nodded, trying not to overthink it.The date itself wasn’t anything extravagant.

You walked together, just like you always did, except this time there was something different in the air, something unspoken that made every small moment feel more significant.

You ended up at a small place you both liked, sitting across from each other, talking the same way you always had but now every glance lingered a little longer, every smile felt a little deeper.At one point, Jimin just stopped talking mid sentence.

You frowned slightly “What?” He shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips.“Nothing,” he said quietly. You didn’t believe him but you didn’t push either because you felt it too that shift that something.

By the time the sun started setting, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and pink, the two of you had wandered out again, walking without a destination like you always did. The streets were quieter now, the noise of the day fading into something softer, something calmer.

You didn’t realize when your hands brushed.But this time neither of you pulled away.Your fingers lingered for a second longer than usual.then slowly they intertwined you looked at him he looked at you and neither of you said anything. Because you didn’t need to.A few steps later, Jimin stopped walking.

You turned toward him, your brows furrowing slightly. “What happened?”He exhaled softly, his hand still holding yours, his grip tightening just a little like he didn’t want to let go.Then he looked at you.

“I don’t want this to just be whatever it’s been,” he said, his voice quieter now, but steady.Your heart started racing again.“I like you,” he continued simply. “And I don’t want to pretend like I don’t.”You didn’t interrupt you just listened.

“So” he added, a small nervous laugh escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, “are you gonna be my girlfriend or what?” The question was so him you felt your lips curve into a smile before you could stop it.

“Is that how you ask someone?” you teased lightly, even though your voice gave away how much this meant to you.He groaned softly “Don’t make it weird.” you laughed. Then squeezed his hand slightly.

“Ofcourse dummy,” you said and tgat was enough. And the way his entire face lit up after that it was something you knew you’d never forget.That night, everything felt perfect.

You walked a little slower, talked a little longer, laughed a little more than usual, like both of you were trying to stretch the moment for as long as possible. There was no awkwardness, no second guessing, just this overwhelming sense of rightness, like everything had fallen into place exactly the way it was supposed to.

And as you stood there later, under the dim streetlights, your hand still in his, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin you realized something.This was the best day of your life because for the first time, nothing felt uncertain and nothing felt complicated. It was just you and him.

And everything you were starting together.Jungkook had known long before you ever said it out loud.

It hadn’t been something dramatic or obvious to anyone else, but he noticed the small things the moment they started changing, the way your attention would drift mid conversation, the way your phone would light up and your entire expression would soften without you even realizing it, the way Jimin’s name started slipping into your sentences more often than anything else.

At first, he didn’t think much of it.You had always been talkative, always quick to share whatever was happening in your life, and Jungkook had always been the one sitting across from you, listening, nodding, occasionally teasing you when you got too carried away.

But this— this was different because you didn’t just mention Jimin you talked about him a lot.It started casually, almost harmless.

“Okay but listen,” you said one afternoon, dropping into the seat across from Jungkook in the library, your eyes lighting up in a way he hadn’t seen before. “He actually stayed back after practice just to help me with that assignment.”

Jungkook looked up from his notebook, watching you carefully as you leaned forward, clearly excited.“He doesn’t even have that subject,” you continued, shaking your head slightly like you still couldn’t believe it. “And he still sat there for like an hour.”

Jungkook hummed quietly, nodding once as he tapped his pen against the page.“That’s nice,” he said simply you didn’t notice the slight pause before his words. Didn’t notice the way his grip tightened just a little around the pen in his hand because you were already moving on.

“And the other day oh my god you won’t believe this,” you added, laughing softly as you rested your chin in your hand. “It started raining and he literally gave me his jacket and walked in the rain himself.”Jungkook let out a small breath through his nose, his gaze dropping back to his notebook.

“Sounds like something out of a movie,” he muttered you smiled “Right?”And that was how it went day after day.You would show up, sit across from him, and without even realizing it, the conversation would drift back to Jimin every single time.

You talked about the things he did, the way he made you laugh, the way he remembered small details about you, the way being around him felt easy and warm and different. And Jungkook— Jungkook listened he always listened he never told you to stop never changed the topic.

Never made it obvious that something about it didn’t sit right with him.Instead, he just sat there, nodding occasionally, responding when needed, letting you talk as much as you wanted while quietly pushing down the strange, uncomfortable feeling building in his chest.

Because the more you talked about Jimin the more obvious it became you were falling for him.And one day, you said it out loud “I think I really like him.”The words came out softer than your usual tone, like even you were still processing it.

Jungkook stilled for a second then he looked up at you.“You think?” he asked, his voice steady despite the way his chest tightened slightly.You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips.“Okay, not think,” you admitted. “I do.”

There was something about the way you said it that made it feel final certain.Jungkook held your gaze for a moment before nodding slowly.“Is he a good guy?” he asked just that one question you didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” you said immediately. “He is.”

Your answer came so easily, so confidently, that Jungkook felt something sink quietly in his chest.He nodded again, looking away briefly as he tapped his pen against the table. “Then that’s good,” he said.And that was the only thing he asked he didn’t question it further didn’t warn you didn’t say anything about how fast things seemed to be moving or how much you were talking about him.

Because if you said Jimin was good then Jungkook chose to believe you even if something inside him felt off a few days later, you told him.You just said it casually, like you always did.“By the way,” you said, sitting down across from him again, your voice carrying that same light excitement, “we’re dating now.”

Jungkook didn’t react immediately.He just looked at you for a second, taking in the way your face lit up, the way your entire presence seemed brighter somehow then he nodded.“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I figured.”

You blinked “You did?”He shrugged, a small, almost amused smile tugging at his lips.“You haven’t stopped talking about him for like a week,” he pointed out.You let out a soft laugh, a little embarrassed but not denying it.

“Okay, fair.”Jungkook nodded again, his expression calm, almost unaffected.

But inside it wasn’t that simple.Because hearing you say it out loud made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.Before, it was just stories. Just moments just possibilities and now Jimin was your boyfriend.

And Jungkook was still exactly where he had always been sitting across from you , listening , smiling when you smiled acting like nothing had changed even though something had.

Even though there was a quiet, unfamiliar ache settling somewhere deep in his chest that he didn’t quite understand and definitely didn’t want to acknowledge so he didn’t.He just leaned back slightly in his chair, tapping his pen against the table again like it was any other day.

“Just don’t forget about me now,” he added lightly, his tone teasing enough to hide everything underneath it.You rolled your eyes immediately.“Shut up,” you said. “You’re not that important.”He huffed out a quiet laugh.“Wow that’s crazy.”

but he didn’t push didn’t ask anything else because he already knew everything he needed to know you had fallen for Jimin. And no matter how he felt about it that wasn’t something he was ever going to get in the way of.

─── back to present ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The second you turned your back on him, it felt like something inside you snapped completely.

The music was still blasting, people still talking, laughing, living their lives like nothing had just happened but for you, everything felt wrong, distorted, too loud and too suffocating all at once.

Your vision blurred as tears kept spilling uncontrollably down your cheeks, your chest tightening painfully with every breath as you pushed through the crowd without looking at anyone, not caring who you bumped into or who called your name.

You just needed to get out. Out of that room out of that house away from him.Because if you stayed even one more second, you were going to completely fall apart in front of everyone and you refused to give him that.

Your hands shook as you shoved past a group of people near the hallway, your shoulder colliding with someone who turned to complain, but you didn’t even register it, didn’t stop, didn’t apologize. The only thing running through your mind was the sound of his voice repeating over and over again like some cruel echo you couldn’t shut off.

She keeps jumping from one guy to another.

She’s such a —

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second as you walked faster, your breathing uneven.“Fuck” you whispered under your breath, your voice breaking. Because it wasn’t just what he said it was the fact that he meant it the fact that he didn’t correct it.

The fact that he just stood there and let someone else tear you apart like you were nothing and agreed with them that was the part that hurt the most.

You reached the front door, your hands fumbling slightly as you pushed it open, the cool night air hitting your face instantly the moment you stepped outside. It should’ve helped but it didn’t your chest still felt tight.

Like you couldn’t breathe properly no matter how hard you tried.You stumbled a few steps forward onto the driveway, your heels clicking unevenly against the ground as you wiped your face with trembling hands, but it was useless more tears just kept coming.

“Why would he say that…” you muttered, your voice cracking.It didn’t make sense none of it did. Jungkook — out of everyone— Jungkook was the last person you ever thought would speak about you like that. He knew you better than anyone.

He knew your reasons, your choices, the way you saw relationships, the way you guarded yourself, the way you pretended things didn’t matter when they actually did he knew everything. And yet he reduced you to that.Your chest tightened again, a broken laugh slipping out through your tears.

“God, you’re such an idiot,” you whispered to yourself. Because somehow, despite everything, you had still believed, still hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was something there.

That all those moments, all those conversations, all the time you spent together meant something more to him too.That he saw you the way you saw him and tonight you had run through a crowded party, heart in your throat, ready to confess, ready to risk everything just to tell him how you felt.

Only to find out that to him, you were just a joke, a problem someone disposable.The realization settled deep, heavy and suffocating.Your steps slowed as you reached the end of the driveway, your body feeling suddenly exhausted, like all the energy had been drained out of you at once.

You wrapped your arms around yourself tightly, as if that would somehow hold you together while everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.“He was all I had…” you whispered, the words barely audible.And that was the truth you couldn’t escape. Jungkook wasn’t just someone you liked.

He wasn’t just a crush he was your constant your best friend.The one person who had always been there, no matter what.The one person you never had to filter yourself around, never had to pretend with, never had to question.

And now you had lost him too in the worst possible way.Your breathing hitched as another wave of emotion crashed over you, your hands coming up to your face again as you tried to muffle the sound of your own sob.“Fuck…” you choked out, shaking your head as if that would somehow make it hurt less.

But it didn’t do anything because losing someone you love is one thing. But realizing they never saw you the same way you saw them? That they could think so little of you after everything?That kind of pain hit differently it dug deeper.

And as you stood there in the cold night, tears falling endlessly, your heart felt heavier than it ever had before. Because this time it wasn’t just about losing a chance at love you had lost your best friend and that hurt like hell.

You didn’t even realize how far you had walked from the house until the music started fading behind you, the loud bass turning into a dull thump in the distance, like it belonged to another world entirely.

Your steps were uneven, your vision still blurred with tears as you tried to steady your breathing, but it just wouldn’t cooperate. Every inhale felt too sharp, every exhale shaky, like your body didn’t know how to calm down after everything that had just happened.

You were halfway down the pathway, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, when you heard your name being called. “Hey—hey!”

Nayoung her voice cut through everything, urgent and concerned as she hurried toward you, weaving past people who were still lingering outside the house. She must’ve noticed you disappear, must’ve followed without thinking twice.

You didn’t turn immediately, you couldn’t because the second you did, the tears came harder. By the time she reached you, you were already wiping at your face aggressively, trying and failing to pull yourself together. “Dude what the hell happened?” Nayoung asked, her voice dropping instantly when she saw your face properly.

You shook your head quickly, like you didn’t even know where to start, your chest still rising unevenly as you tried to speak.“He—” your voice broke, and you let out a frustrated breath, dragging your hands through your hair. “He is such a dick.”

The words came out harsher than you expected, laced with anger and hurt all tangled together.“I just—I wanna get out of here,” you added quickly, your voice smaller now, almost desperate. “Please.”Nayoung didn’t ask anything else. Not what happened not who said what not why you were crying like your world had just fallen apart.

She just looked at you for a second, really looked at you, and whatever she saw was enough.“Okay,” she said immediately, her tone firm but gentle. “Yeah we’re leaving.”She stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on your arm as she turned both of you away from the house.

“Come on,” she murmured and that was it. You didn’t even glance back because you knew if you did, you might break all over again so you walked.

Side by side with Nayoung, your steps still shaky, your breathing uneven, but at least now you weren’t alone. The night air felt colder the further you moved away from the party, the noise fading completely until it was replaced by quiet streets and the distant hum of traffic.

Your tears didn’t stop right away.They kept falling silently as you walked, your mind still replaying everything you had heard, everything you had seen, everything you wished you hadn’t.Nayoung didn’t push didn’t fill the silence with unnecessary words.

She just stayed there beside you, her presence steady, her hand occasionally brushing against yours like she was making sure you were still there.And somehow, that made it a little easier to keep walking.Even if your chest still felt like it was caving in even if your heart still ached like hell.

At least you were getting away from that place away from him and for now that was the only thing that mattered.

─── jungkook’s pov ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

For a moment after your hand connected with his face, everything just stopped. Jungkook didn’t move didn’t blink didn’t even breathe properly.

The sting of the slap lingered across his cheek, sharp and burning, but it barely registered compared to the way your words echoed in his head, over and over again, louder than the music, louder than the voices around him, louder than anything else.

“Loved you.”

“I hope I never see you again.”

The past tense hit him harder than anything else loved not love.

not love you.

loved

Like it was already over like whatever existed between you had been cut off in that exact moment, clean and final, leaving nothing behind but the aftermath.He stood there frozen, his head slightly turned from the impact, his eyes unfocused as he tried failed to process what had just happened.

The room around him continued moving, people whispering, shifting, reacting, but Jungkook felt completely detached from it all, like he had been pulled out of reality and dropped somewhere else entirely. His chest felt tight.

Like something was pressing down on it, making it harder to breathe with each passing second. And then it hit.Not all at once, not like a sudden explosion, but like a slow, crushing realization that crept in piece by piece until it became impossible to ignore.

You had meant every word every bit of hurt in your voice you hadn’t been angry for no reason. You had heard everything every single thing he said.Every word he let slip just to fit in, just to impress someone else, just to avoid looking weak.

And in doing that he had destroyed the one person who had never made him feel that way his stomach dropped.

A sharp, sickening feeling twisting deep inside him as his mind replayed it all in fragments the way you had looked at him, the disbelief in your eyes, the way your voice had shaken when you said you loved him. Loved.

His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, like his body was finally catching up to what his mind was trying to process he had it he had everything.

you

your feelings

your trust

Your presence in his life, constant and unwavering.

And he didn’t even realize it until it was gone — gone because of him because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.Because he chose the wrong side.Because he let someone else speak about you like that—and agreed.

“Fuck ” the word slipped out under his breath, barely audible, his voice rough.His heart started racing now, panic creeping in as the weight of everything crashed down on him all at once.You had walked away you were gone.

And he was just standing there like an idiot that snapped something inside him.Jungkook moved suddenly, pushing past the people around him without a second thought, his eyes scanning the room desperately like he might still catch a glimpse of you if he moved fast enough.

He needed to find you needed to fix this. Needed to say something anything before it was too late.He had just reached the edge of the crowd when a hand grabbed his arm.

Yebin “Jungkook, wait—” she started, her voice sharp, trying to pull him back.He didn’t even look at her didn’t slow down.“Let go,” he muttered, his voice low but strained. “Jungkook—”

“I said let the fuck go,” he snapped, yanking his arm out of her grip without hesitation there was no softness left in his tone.He didn’t wait for her reaction didn’t careHe pushed forward again, moving through the house, checking every corner, every room, his eyes scanning frantically, his chest rising and falling too fast now.

The living room the hallway the kitchen. Nothing, you weren’t there.“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he turned toward the front door, his pulse pounding in his ears.Maybe you were outside maybe you hadn’t gone far.

He stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting his face as he looked around quickly, his gaze moving from one end of the street to the other.But you were nowhere.Just a few people lingering, talking, laughing like nothing had happened.Like his world hadn’t just completely fallen apart.

His chest tightened painfully “No no, no—” he whispered under his breath, already reaching for his phone with shaky hands.He dialed your number instantly the call rang and rang and rang but no answer.He hung up and tried again still nothing.

His jaw clenched as frustration and panic mixed together, his thumb moving quickly as he opened your chat, typing without thinking.

jungkook : where are you?

jungkook : please answer me

jungkook : i didn’t mean any of that

The messages sent one after another, the screen lighting up in the dark as he stared at it like it would somehow bring you back no reply.

His breathing grew heavier, his chest rising sharply as he started walking down the street, then faster, then almost running, his eyes scanning every direction like you might appear out of nowhere if he just looked hard enough but you didn’t because you were gone.

And for the first time Jungkook felt it fully that hollow, sinking feeling in his chest. The realization that he hadn’t just messed up he had lost you completely.And he didn’t know if he’d ever get you back.

He doesn’t find you. No matter how many times he circles back, no matter how many rooms he checks again like you might suddenly reappear if he just looks hard enough, no matter how far down the street he walks with his eyes scanning every passing figure there’s nothing no sign of you.

Just strangers, noise fading into distance, and the hollow, suffocating realization settling deeper into his chest with every passing second.

Jungkook eventually stops in the middle of the pavement, his breathing uneven, his hands hanging uselessly by his sides as he looks around one last time like he’s hoping stupidly hoping that you’ll just walk back toward him but you don’t.

Because you meant it “I hope I never see you again.” The words hit harder now, replaying in his head with brutal clarity, stripping away whatever denial he had left.You weren’t just angry you were done.

A sharp breath leaves him as he drags a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration, his chest tightening to the point where it almost hurts to inhale.“Fuck” he mutters under his breath, his voice rough, breaking slightly at the edges.There’s nothing left to do so he turns and walks away.

The party noise fades completely behind him as he makes his way back toward campus, his steps slower now, heavier, like each one takes more effort than it should. The night feels colder than before, the air biting against his skin, but he barely notices it.

His mind is too loud too full.Every memory of you, every moment, every word you’ve ever said to him crashing into him all at once like his brain decided now — now was the perfect time to replay everything he’s about to lose.

The way you’d sit across from him, talking endlessly while he pretended to be annoyed but never once told you to stop.The way you’d call his name so casually, like it belonged to you.The way you trusted him and tonight— the way you looked at him like he was a stranger like he meant nothing.

His grip tightens around his phone as he pulls it out again, his thumb already moving before he can stop himself. He hits your contact, lifting it to his ear as he walks, his jaw clenched tight.The call doesn’t even ring this time straight to voicemail.

His chest drops “Fuck,” he exhales, lowering the phone slowly before trying again immediately, like maybe it was a mistake, like maybe the second call will go through.It doesn’t voicemail again

His steps falter slightly as frustration mixes with something far worse, something heavier, something that sits in his chest and refuses to leave.He opens your chat, his fingers hovering over the screen for a second before he starts typing.

jungkook : please pick up

jungkook : i need to talk to you

jungkook : i didn’t mean any of that shit

The messages stack one after another, desperate, messy, nothing like the composed version of himself he usually presents to the world.Still no reply his vision blurs slightly. And this time— he can’t stop it.

Tears gather in his eyes before he even realizes what’s happening, his breathing hitching faintly as he presses his lips together, trying to hold it in, trying to keep it together like he always does.

But it’s useless because the truth is sitting right there, undeniable and cruel.He did this he lost you.Not because of some misunderstanding not because of timing but because he opened his mouth and chose someone else over you.

For what?

For a laugh?

For approval?

For Yebin’s validation?

The thought makes something twist violently in his chest.“Why the fuck did I even care ” he whispers to himself, his voice cracking slightly.

Why did he need that?

Why did he need her approval?

Why did he let her words get to him like that?

Because the truth— the truth hits him so hard it almost knocks the air out of him. He didn’t need it he never did. The only person whose opinion ever mattered was yours.And he threw it away for nothing.

His grip on his phone tightens as more tears slip down his face, his jaw clenching as he shakes his head slightly like he can undo it, like he can take it all back if he just tries hard enough.

“You’re such a fucking idiot” he mutters under his breath because you were right there right in front of him telling him you loved him. And he didn’t even realize what he had until it was already gone.A shaky breath leaves him as he wipes at his face roughly, but it doesn’t help much.

Because now it’s clear painfully clear.You weren’t just someone in his life you weren’t just his best friend you weren’t just someone he cared about you were the only girl he had ever truly wanted.

The only one he ever needed the only one he — his chest tightens again. “…loved,” he whispers, the word finally slipping out like something he had been holding back for too long.And now it’s too late.

By the time he reaches his dorm building, his steps feel heavier than ever, his body drained, his mind still racing in circles that don’t lead anywhere except back to you.Back to what he said back to what he lost.

He pushes the door open and walks down the hallway slowly, the familiar surroundings feeling strange, almost unfamiliar in the state he’s in. His hand trembles slightly as he reaches for the handle of his room, pausing for just a second before pushing it open.

The door swings inward Taehyung is inside, sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone casually. But the moment he looks up he freezes. His expression shifts instantly, confusion flashing across his face before turning into something closer to shock as he takes in Jungkook’s state.

Jungkook stands there in the doorway, shoulders slightly slumped, hair messy, eyes red, his face still faintly flushed from earlier, his entire presence completely different from the person who had left that room hours ago. Taehyung slowly lowers his phone.

“Bro what the hell happened to you?”For a few seconds after Taehyung’s question, Jungkook doesn’t answer.

He just stands there near the door, like his body hasn’t fully caught up with the fact that he’s back in his dorm, like some part of him is still stuck outside that house, still replaying the moment over and over again, still hearing your voice breaking as you said those words.

His throat feels dry like speaking itself is going to hurt.Taehyung shifts on the bed, his brows furrowing slightly as he takes in Jungkook’s silence, the redness in his eyes, the way his hands hang stiffly at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Jungkook,” he presses, his tone more serious now, “what happened?” Jungkook exhales slowly, dragging a hand over his face, his fingers pressing hard against his eyes for a second before he lets them drop, his shoulders sagging like the weight of it all is finally settling in properly.

“I fucked up,” he says finally, his voice low and rough. The words come out flat. Taehyung doesn’t interrupt he just watches him.And that silence somehow makes it easier for Jungkook to keep going.

“I said some fuckass shit,” Jungkook continues, his gaze dropping to the floor as his jaw tightens, “about her at the party.”Even saying it feels wrong like the words don’t belong to him like he’s talking about someone else but he isn’t.He knows exactly what he did.

“She was there,” he adds after a pause, his voice quieter now, almost like he hates admitting it. “She heard everything.”Taehyung’s expression shifts slightly, confusion turning into something sharper, more focused.“What do you mean everything?” he asks.

Jungkook lets out a humorless breath, his lips pressing together as he shakes his head slightly, like he’s trying to process it while saying it out loud.“Yebin and her friends were talking shit,” he says, the words coming out slower now, heavier, “about her and I didn’t stop it.”

His hands curl slightly into fists at his sides.“I joined in,” he admits, his voice tightening the room feels quieter somehow he can still hear it every word.Every moment where he could’ve shut it down and didn’t.

“I said she uses people,” he continues, swallowing hard, his throat tightening again, “that she goes from one guy to another that I was better off without her.”The words sound even worse out loud ugly and disgusting.Not something he ever thought he’d say about you.

Taehyung’s face darkens slightly, but he still doesn’t interrupt.He lets Jungkook say it all because he knows there’s more. “There was this guy Jaemin he called her a whore,” Jungkook adds, his voice dropping lower, almost strained now, “and I—”

He stops for a second his chest rises sharply.“I agreed,” he finishes, barely above a whisper.The silence that follows is heavier than anything before.

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to the back of his neck as he paces a step forward, then stops again, like he doesn’t know where to go even inside his own room.

“And then she just—” he exhales, his voice breaking slightly now despite his effort to keep it steady, “she showed up.” He can still see it the way you were standing there tears already in your eyes the disbelief the hurt.

“She heard everything,” he repeats, quieter this time, like he’s trying to make sense of it himself. His jaw tightens again as he looks away.

“She said she loved me,” he adds after a moment, the words hitting differently now, softer but somehow more painful, “and then corrected it.”

Taehyung doesn’t move nor speaks but his eyes don’t leave Jungkook’s face.“Loved,” Jungkook repeats, his voice almost hollow now. “Past tense.”His chest rises and falls unevenly as he runs a hand through his hair again, frustration and regret mixing together in a way that makes it hard to stand still.

“She slapped me,” he continues, his tone quieter now, not defensive, not angry just stating it like it’s part of the memory burned into him, “told me she hopes she never sees me again.”

And that the part that breaks something in him all over again.Jungkook lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders dropping as he finally looks up at Taehyung, his eyes tired, red, filled with something he doesn’t even try to hide anymore.

“I went after her,” he says. “I tried calling texting everything’s going straight to voicemail.”The last bit comes out quieter almost defeated.“I think she blocked me.”The room falls silent again but this time, it doesn’t stay that way for long.

Taehyung lets out a slow breath, running a hand over his face before sitting up straighter, his expression no longer just shocked but disappointed deeply.“You’re a fucking idiot,” he says bluntly.“I know,” he mutters under his breath.“No, you don’t,” Taehyung snaps, shaking his head as he stands up now, his frustration clearly building. “You really don’t if you thought that shit was okay.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but he stays quiet because there’s nothing he can say to defend himself.Nothing that would make it better.

“You spent years acting like you care about her,” Taehyung continues, his voice sharp now, cutting through the room, “being her best friend, being the guy she trusts, the guy she goes to—and the second some girl starts running her mouth, you switch up like that?”

Jungkook flinches slightly at that.“That’s not just messed up,” Taehyung adds, his tone colder now, more controlled but no less harsh, “that’s fucking pathetic.” the word lands heavy.Jungkook looks away, his hands clenching slightly at his sides.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says quietly, almost defensively, even though it sounds weak the moment it leaves his mouth.Taehyung lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “That’s the worst part,” he says. “You didn’t mean it and you still said it.”

Silence. “You’re a hypocrite,” Taehyung continues, his gaze fixed on Jungkook now, unwavering. “You act like you’re better than guys who treat her like shit, like you’re the only one who actually gets her but you just proved you’re exactly the same.”

Jungkook’s chest tightens because that hurts not because it’s unfair but because it isn’t.“And honestly?” Taehyung adds, his voice dropping slightly, less angry but heavier now, more honest than anything else, “you don’t deserve her.”

Jungkook’s head snaps up slightly at that, something flickering across his face for a split second.But he doesn’t argue because deep down he knows that too.Taehyung shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as he exhales.

“She deserved someone who would’ve shut that shit down immediately,” he says. “Someone who wouldn’t let anyone talk about her like that let alone join in.”Jungkook swallows hard, his throat tight, his chest feeling heavier with every word.

“But instead,” Taehyung finishes, his voice quieter now but still firm, “she got you.” And that that’s what finally breaks through whatever was left of Jungkook’s composure.

Because for the first time since it happened he doesn’t just feel like he lost you he understands why. The tension in the room is still thick, heavy, almost suffocating after Taehyung’s last words, the silence stretching just long enough for Jungkook to feel it sink deeper into his bones and then the door slams open.

It bursts inward so hard it hits the wall with a sharp crack, both Jungkook and Taehyung snapping their heads toward it instantly.Jimin stands there.

Chest rising and falling hard, eyes dark, locked straight onto Jungkook with a kind of anger that isn’t loud but dangerous. The kind that doesn’t need words to explain itself.For a split second, no one moves the air shifts.

Jungkook barely has time to register him standing there before Jimin closes the distance in long, quick strides and his fist connects, hard.

Jungkook’s head jerks to the side with the impact, the force knocking him off balance as he stumbles back a step, a sharp, surprised breath leaving him as pain flares across his jaw. It’s sudden, disorienting, his brain struggling to catch up with what just happened as his hand comes up instinctively to his face.

“What the fuck—?” he breathes out, stunned more than anything, his voice rough as he looks back at Jimin.But Jimin doesn’t look any calmer. If anything, he looks worse.

“What the fuck?” Jimin repeats, his voice low but seething, every word laced with barely controlled fury as he steps forward again. “Don’t you fucking know what you did?”There’s no confusion in his tone.

Jungkook’s expression hardens almost immediately, the shock fading just enough for something defensive, something sharp to take its place. His jaw tightens, his chest still heaving slightly as he straightens up, his pride kicking in before anything else can.

“And you do?” he shoots back, his voice just as rough, just as heated. Before Taehyung can even react, Jungkook steps forward and swings back.

His fist lands against Jimin’s face this time, not as clean but just as forceful, the impact echoing slightly in the small room as Jimin stumbles a fraction before steadying himself again.

“You’re not one to fucking talk,” Jungkook spits, his anger flaring now, mixing with everything else already boiling inside him. “Didn’t you break up with her just to go fuck around with some other girl in the States, you douchebag?”

The words come out harsh and accusing.Years of assumptions, of things left unsaid, finally spilling out in the worst possible moment.Jimin’s head snaps back slightly at that, not from the force but from the sheer audacity of it.

“What are you on about?” he snaps, his brows furrowing deeply as he takes a step closer again, his anger now mixed with confusion. “I didn’t get with anyone after her.”Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head slightly like he doesn’t believe a word of it.

“Yeah? Then what the fuck is that?” he shoots back immediately.His hands move quickly as he pulls out his phone, unlocking it with rough, impatient movements before shoving the screen toward Jimin, the image already pulled up like he’s looked at it more times than he’d like to admit.

Jimin’s eyes flick down to it and for a second just a second his expression shifts but disbelief and then frustration.

“That’s my fucking cousin, Jungkook,” Jimin snaps, his voice sharper now, incredulous as he looks back up at him.The words hit harder than any punch.

Jungkook freezes for half a second, his grip tightening slightly around his phone, his mind stalling as it tries to process what Jimin just said.“What?” he mutters, his voice lower now, less certain.

“My cousin,” Jimin repeats, slower this time, his tone still edged with anger but clearer, like he can’t believe he even has to explain it. “She moved there for college. I was helping her settle in. That picture got taken out of context like everything else.”Silence crashes into the room again.

Jungkook’s chest tightens, something twisting painfully inside him as the realization starts settling in. All this time verything you believed and everything he believed was wrong.And before he can even respond, Jimin steps closer again, his gaze hard, unrelenting.

“And even if it wasn’t,” he adds, his voice dropping slightly but losing none of its intensity, “you don’t get to stand here and bring up my mistakes like it makes yours any better.” That lands harder than anything else because there’s no argument there.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t speak, his mind too loud now, too caught up in everything crashing together at once.

Jimin’s fists tighten at his sides again, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface as he takes another step forward, clearly not done, his body tensing like he’s about to swing again but Taehyung moves fast this time.

He steps in between them, one hand coming up against Jimin’s chest, the other pushing slightly against Jungkook to keep distance between them.

“Enough,” Taehyung snaps, his voice firm, cutting through the tension sharply as he looks between the two of them. “This isn’t fixing shit.”

Jimin exhales sharply through his nose, his chest still rising and falling hard, his eyes locked on Jungkook over Taehyung’s shoulder, anger still burning strong. Jungkook doesn’t move either but whatever was fueling him before it’s gone.

Replaced by something heavier something worse. because now it’s not just about what he said tonight it ’s about everything he got wrong .Everything you went through everything he never understood.

And standing there, with Taehyung between them and Jimin’s anger still radiating through the room Jungkook feels it sink in deeper than ever before. He didn’t just hurt you tonight he’s been failing you for a long time.

Jimin doesn’t calm down Even with Taehyung standing between them, even with the distance forced between their bodies, the anger doesn’t leave his face it settles deeper, sharper, more controlled, the kind that doesn’t explode again because it doesn’t need to.

His chest rises slowly as he drags in a breath, his gaze locked on Jungkook like he’s seeing him clearly for the first time and hating what he sees.“You’ve done her so damn wrong,” Jimin says, his voice lower now, but heavier, every word landing with intention.

Jungkook doesn’t respond he just stands there, shoulders stiff, jaw tight, taking it. Because something in Jimin’s tone tells him this isn’t just anger it’s truth.

“She’s been there for you,” Jimin continues, his brows pulling together slightly, frustration bleeding into his expression now, like he can’t wrap his head around it. “Through everything. Always around, always showing up, always giving a damn even when she didn’t have to.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens. Memories flash without permission your voice, your laugh, the way you’d sit next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.Jimin doesn’t stop

“She’s been your best friend,” he adds, sharper this time, like the title itself should mean something more than it apparently did. “Do you even understand what that means? Or did you just take it for granted like everything else?”

Jungkook’s fingers twitch slightly at his sides, but he stays silent, his chest feeling heavier with every word.

“She cared about you,” Jimin goes on, his voice tightening now, emotion threading through it, not just anger but something deeper, something protective. “Not casually not halfway she cared in a way people don’t just throw around.”

Taehyung glances at Jungkook briefly, but Jungkook doesn’t look back because Jimin isn’t wrong.

“And the worst part?” Jimin exhales sharply, shaking his head slightly, like this is the part that really gets under his skin. “She loves you.”That word hits harder than anything else.

loves

Not liked

Not cared

Loved

Jungkook’s chest tightens painfully, his breath catching slightly as Jimin steps just a little closer, his gaze unwavering.

“She loves you way too much,” Jimin says, quieter now, but somehow even more intense, like he’s not just saying it he’s accusing him with it. “Haven’t you seen that? Haven’t you ever noticed it?”Jungkook swallows hard.

Because now now he has , too late.Images flood his mind, things he brushed off before, things he never questioned.The way your face would light up the second you saw him, no matter how your day had been.The way your attention always drifted back to him, even in a room full of people.The way you stayed always.

“For her, it’s always been you,” Jimin continues, his voice steady now, controlled but no less heavy. “When you walk into a room, her entire face changes. It’s like someone flipped a switch.”Jungkook’s eyes drop slightly, his chest tightening with every word.

“She looks at you,” Jimin adds, slower this time, like he wants it to sink in properly, “like you hung the damn stars in the sky.”That breaks something because Jungkook can see it now so clearly it almost hurts.

All those moments he ignored all those looks he didn’t question all those chances he never even realized he had. And now they’re gone .Silence settles in the room again, but it’s not empty.

Jimin watches him for a second longer, his expression still hard, but something else flickers there too something quieter, something almost tired.

“And if—” he starts, his voice lowering again, more deliberate now, “if she ever gives you another chance” he pauses just long enough for the weight of it to settle. “…don’t you dare waste it.” a warning.

“Because if you do,” Jimin continues, his gaze sharpening again as he straightens slightly, “I won’t hesitate.”Jungkook looks up then finally meeting his eyes. And whatever he sees there it’s enough to make his chest tighten all over again.

“I’ll take her away from you,” Jimin finishes, his voice firm, unwavering. “And this time, I won’t let go.”Jimin steps back then, the tension in his shoulders still there but controlled now, like he’s said everything he needed to say. He doesn’t look at Taehyung, doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t wait for a response.

He just turns and walks out.The door swings shut behind him with a quieter click than before.

─── next morning ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You wake up feeling like absolute shit .Not the kind that goes away with water or sleep or pretending everything is fine the kind that sits heavy in your chest, pressing down on you the second your eyes open, reminding you that yesterday wasn’t a nightmare you can just shake off.

It happened every single second of it. The slap the words the look on his face and the worst part the things he said.Your head throbs faintly as you stare at the ceiling of Nayoung’s room, the unfamiliar comforter tangled around your legs, your body still heavy from exhaustion but your mind already racing.

You barely slept, maybe an hour at most, and even that was broken, restless, filled with flashes of his voice and your own breaking over it.You shouldn’t have checked your phone you knew you shouldn’t have but you did anyway.

And that’s when everything gets worse because it’s everywhere. The campus blog ,group chats and stories.A video your hands start shaking slightly as you tap on it, your stomach already dropping before it even loads.It’s blurry, taken from a distance, but it’s clear enough.

You standing there crying.Your voice raised just enough to catch parts of what you said.

his face

the slap

the tension

the humiliation

Captured recorded and shared.Your breath catches in your throat as the video ends, your fingers freezing around your phone like you don’t even know what to do with it anymore. And then the comments they’re worse way worse. You scroll you don’t even know why.Maybe some part of you hopes it won’t be that bad. It is.

“damn she really lost it over a guy 💀”

“isn’t she the one who hops from guy to guy?? not surprised tbh”

“nah but the way she slapped him 😭😭 bold for no reason”

“he lowkey ate her up tho”

“this is actually sad you can tell she was hurt”

“bro jungkook looked confused as hell 😭”

“she embarrassed herself fr”

“idc what anyone says he shouldn’t have said that about her”

“y’all are weird for posting this”

“ngl i feel bad for her”

“attention seeker energy”

“nah she was crying crying… that wasn’t fake”

Your vision blurs you don’t even realize when the tears start again. It’s just sudden and overwhelming. Your chest tightens as you drop your phone onto the bed beside you, your hands coming up to cover your face as a broken sob escapes before you can stop it.

“Fuck” you choke out, your shoulders shaking slightly this is worse than last night because last night, it was just him. Just that moment and now it’s everyone. Everyone has seen it rveryone has an opinion everyone thinks they know you.You feel exposed, humiliated and small.

Like your entire life just got reduced to a few seconds of a video people are laughing at.“I hate this,” you whisper, your voice cracking as you curl in on yourself slightly, your body trembling under the weight of it all. “I hate this so much”

The door opens quickly Nayoung must’ve heard you. She rushes in without hesitation, her expression immediately shifting the moment she sees you breaking down like that. “Hey hey,” she says quickly, moving toward you and sitting beside you on the bed, pulling you into her without a second thought.

You don’t resist you just fall into her, your face pressing into her shoulder as you cry harder now, your fingers clutching onto her shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Fuck those people,” Nayoung mutters, her voice firm as she wraps her arms around you tightly, one hand coming up to gently rub your back. “Seriously, fuck every single one of them. They don’t know shit.”You shake your head weakly, your breathing uneven.

“They’re all watching ” you manage to get out, your voice muffled. “They’re all talking about it about me—”

“Let them,” she cuts in immediately, pulling back just enough to look at you, her expression serious. “They’ll move on in like two days to the next drama. You think any of them actually matter? They don’t.”You don’t respond.

And to make it worse your phone lights up again.You don’t even need to look to know who it is. Jungkook again calls and messages , missed calls stacked one after another. You saw them last night and this morning you ignored every single one and you’re going to keep ignoring them.

Because right now you don’t fucking care or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.Your jaw tightens slightly as you reach over and flip your phone screen-down on the bed, like even seeing his name is enough to set you off again.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” you say quietly, your voice still shaky but firmer now. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want anything to do with him.”Nayoung nods immediately.“Then don’t,” she says simply. “You don’t owe him shit.” and she’s right you don’t.

Not after everything he said not after the way he looked at you and still chose to stay silent.You swallow hard, your chest still aching, your emotions sitting too close to the surface as you try to steady yourself.

“I hate him,” you whisper, even though the words feel heavier than you expected because hate isn’t simple. But right now, it’s easier to hold onto than anything else.Before Nayoung can respond, the doorbell rings. Both of you freeze for a second your heart jumps slightly, your body tensing instinctively.

For a split second you think it’s him your stomach twists.“Nayoung” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.“I got it,” she replies immediately, already standing up, her tone reassuring as she gives your shoulder a quick squeeze before heading out of the room.

You stay where you are your hands twisting slightly in the fabric of the blanket, your breathing still uneven as you listen to her footsteps moving toward the door. You don’t know what you’re expecting don’t know what you’re hoping for. But when you hear Nayoung’s voice from outside

“OH hi.” you frown slightly that wasn’t the reaction you expected there’s a pause. Then footsteps coming closer and a familiar voice Jimin.

Your head lifts slightly just as he steps into the room, a paper bag in one hand, his expression softening the second he sees you sitting there, eyes red, face tear streaked, completely wrecked.He doesn’t say anything immediately just looks at you for a second.

Taking it in then he walks in properly, holding the bag up slightly.“Brought breakfast,” he says quietly.And for some reason that almost makes you cry all over again.

─── jungkook’s pov ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Jungkook barely sleeps.

If he does, it’s shallow, restless, the kind where his body shuts down for a bit but his mind doesn’t, still replaying everything from the night before in fragments that don’t let him breathe properly even in his dreams. So when morning comes, it doesn’t feel like a fresh start it just feels like a continuation of the same mess.

The first thing he does is check his phone and that’s when it hits him all over again. The video everywhere. Campus blog, reposts, group chats his notifications flooded, not just with messages but with tags, mentions, people sending him clips like it’s entertainment, like it’s something funny.

His jaw tightens as he watches it you crying your voice breaking. His own face in the frame, looking exactly like what he was someone who didn’t say a word when it mattered.His grip around the phone tightens. Then the comments and the second he starts reading, something dark settles in his chest. People laughing mocking you twisting things they don’t understand.

Talking about you like they know you like they have any right.“Fucking idiots” he mutters under his breath, his voice rough as he exhales sharply.Before he can even think twice, his fingers start moving.

stop talking shit about her. you don’t even know her.

He posts it

He tosses his phone onto the bed and runs a hand through his hair, his chest still tight as he gets up, forcing himself to move, to do something instead of just sitting there drowning in it.Getting ready feels mechanical , automatic.Like his body knows what to do but his mind is somewhere else entirely.

And then without overthinking it too much he stops by a flower shop on the way blush peonies, your favorite.He remembers that without hesitation of course he does.The irony almost makes him sick.

By the time he reaches your apartment, his heart is already pounding harder than it should, his steps slowing slightly as he stands in front of your door, staring at it like it might open before he even knocks. It doesn’t he lifts his hand anyway.

Knocks once then again and waits nothing but silence. His jaw tightens as he tries again, a little louder this time, his chest rising sharply as he listens for any movement inside still nothing.He knows what that means you’re not there.

Or you are

And you’re choosing not to open the door either way, it lands the same.He exhales slowly, the air leaving his lungs heavier than it should as he looks down at the flowers in his hand for a second before crouching slightly, placing them carefully in front of your door.

He hesitates just for a second.Then pulls out his phone, typing something quickly before slipping the small note beside the bouquet.He doesn’t linger doesn’t knock again.

By the time he reaches campus, it’s worse people are staring not even trying to hide it.Whispers follow him as he walks past, fragments of conversations catching in his ears, enough to know exactly what they’re about without needing to hear the full sentence.

“That’s him—”

“Did you see—”

“Bro the video—”

His jaw clenches as he keeps walking, his gaze fixed ahead, his hands shoved into his pockets like that’ll ground him somehow.He ignores it or at least tries to.Because there’s only one thing on his mind right now you.

He makes his way toward your department building, his steps quicker now, more purposeful, his eyes scanning the area the moment he gets closer.And then he spots her nayoung.Relief flickers for half a second before tension replaces it.

He walks up to her immediately, not bothering to ease into it, not bothering with anything casual. “Where is she?” he asks, his voice direct, a little too tight.Nayoung turns toward him slowly and the second she recognizes him her expression hardens.“Don’t,” she says immediately, her tone sharp enough to stop him in his tracks. “Don’t even start.”

Jungkook exhales, running a hand through his hair again, frustration and desperation mixing together in a way that makes it hard to stay composed.“I just need to talk to her,” he says, his voice lower now, but urgent. “Please.”Nayoung lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head slightly like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“Talk?” she repeats, her brows lifting. “You think she wants to talk to you right now?”Jungkook swallows hard, his chest tightening again.“I messed up,” he admits, his voice quieter now, more raw than before. “I know I did I just I need one chance. Just one.”

Nayoung stares at him for a second really looks at him. Like she’s trying to decide something.“You should’ve thought about that before you opened your mouth,” she says bluntly.Jungkook flinches slightly at that but doesn’t back down.

“Please,” he tries again, his voice cracking just a little now despite himself. “Just let me see her. I’ll fix it I’ll”

“You won’t,” Nayoung cuts him off, her tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “Because she doesn’t want to see you.”He shakes his head slightly, like he doesn’t want to believe it.“You don’t know that,” he says quickly.Nayoung’s expression turns colder.

“I do,” she replies. “Because I’m the one who was there while she was crying her eyes out because of you.”Jungkook doesn’t have a response for that.

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Nayoung repeats, slower this time, making sure it sinks in. “Not today not tomorrow not even if you were dying right in front of her.” That one hits differently

His chest tightens painfully, his throat going dry as the words settle in but Nayoung isn’t done.“So do yourself a favor,” she adds, her voice steady, unyielding, “and stay away from her.”There’s nothing left to say after that not really.

Jungkook just stands there for a second, his mind blank, his chest heavy, his hands clenched slightly at his sides. Then Nayoung turns and walks away leaving him standing there alone.By the time Jungkook reaches his class, whatever energy he had left is gone.

It’s like everything from the morning the video, the comments, the empty hallway outside your apartment, Nayoung’s words has piled up on top of him, pressing down harder with every step he takes.

His head feels heavy, his chest tight, and the noise around him only makes it worse. People don’t even bother pretending anymore; the stares are obvious now, conversations lowering just enough when he passes by but not enough to hide what they’re talking about.

He just wants to get through the day without losing whatever little control he has left.But the moment he steps into the corridor near his classroom he sees her Yebin.

Leaning casually against the wall like she’s been waiting, her expression brightening the second she spots him, her entire demeanor shifting into something soft, sweet, almost rehearsed.

“Jungkook,” she calls, pushing herself off the wall and walking toward him with a small smile, her voice lighter than usual, like nothing ever happened. “Hey I was looking for you.”

He doesn’t stop.But she catches up anyway, falling into step beside him, close enough that it feels intentional.“You didn’t reply to my texts,” she continues, her tone almost playful, like she’s trying to ease into a conversation that doesn’t exist anymore. “I was worried.”

That’s when he stops abruptly. The suddenness of it makes her pause too, her smile faltering just slightly as he turns to look at her properly for the first time. And there’s nothing soft in his expression nothing warm just exhaustion.And something colder underneath.

“Didn’t I ask you to stay away from me, Yebin?” he says, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the hallway noise around them. Her brows knit together slightly, surprise flickering across her face, like she didn’t expect that reaction, like she thought whatever happened last night would just pass.

“Jungkook” she starts, her tone shifting, a hint of defensiveness creeping in.“Leave me alone,” he adds, more firmly this time, his jaw tightening as he holds her gaze.For a second, she doesn’t respond.

Then she lets out a small breath, shaking her head slightly as if she’s the one dealing with something unreasonable.

“You’re acting like this because of her?” she says, her voice quieter now but edged with something sharper. “After everything? She’s the one who embarrassed you in front of everyone, Jungkook she literally abandoned you there.”

The words hit wrong so wrong that something in his chest snaps before he can even think.“Don’t,” he says immediately, his tone dropping, warning clear in it. But Yebin doesn’t stop.

“She always does this,” she continues, her voice gaining confidence, like she thinks she’s making a point, like she’s right. “Pushes people away, acts like she doesn’t care, and then suddenly—”

“That’s enough.”His voice cuts through hers, louder this time, sharper, turning a few heads nearby.Yebin blinks, taken aback, but he’s already stepped closer, his expression hardening in a way she’s never seen before.

“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” he says, each word deliberate, controlled but filled with something simmering underneath. “You don’t even know her.”The hallway around them grows quieter, the shift in tone drawing attention whether he wants it or not.

Yebin glances around briefly, clearly noticing it too, but Jungkook doesn’t care not anymore.“It’s my fault,” he continues, his voice tightening slightly, his chest rising with the effort of holding everything in. “Whatever happened it’s on me not her.”

Yebin’s expression shifts again, confusion mixing with frustration now, like she can’t understand why he’s turning this on himself.“Jungkook, calm down,” she says quickly, her voice dropping as she steps a little closer, her hand reaching out like she’s trying to steady him. “People are watching.”

And that’s what does it.Something ugly twists in his chest, anger flaring up again, hotter this time, more reckless.“I’m not fucking keeping quiet,” he snaps, his voice louder now, carrying across the hallway without restraint.A few more heads turn whispers start he doesn’t care because for once, the noise around him doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters except the fact that he let someone stand there and tear you apart and now she’s trying to do it again like she has the right.And he’s not letting it happen.

Yebin freezes slightly, clearly not expecting that reaction, her hand dropping back to her side as her lips part like she’s about to say something else.But Jungkook doesn’t give her the chance.

He steps back, breaking whatever space was between them, his jaw still tight, his chest still rising unevenly as he shakes his head slightly, like he’s done with this, done with her, done with everything that led him here.

Then he turns and walks away leaving her standing there in the middle of the hallway, the attention she tried to avoid now fully on her instead.

The days that follow don’t feel like days to Jungkook they feel like something stretched out, hollow, endless, each hour dragging into the next with no real sense of time, no sense of progress, just the same suffocating weight sitting in his chest from the moment he wakes up to the moment he finally forces himself to sleep.

He tries everything, genuinely everything, like a man grasping at anything that might even remotely lead him back to you, but every attempt ends the same way with silence. He goes back to your apartment more times than he can count, at different hours like maybe he’ll catch you off guard, maybe you’ll open the door if you don’t expect him, maybe he’ll just get one chance to see your face, to say something anything

but the door never opens, the hallway remains empty, and the only proof that he was ever there are the blush peonies he keeps replacing every day, fresh ones because he remembers you hate when flowers wilt, along with small notes he slips beside them, messy handwriting that starts off somewhat composed and slowly turns desperate over the days please just hear me out, I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean a single word I said, I’ll fix this, I swear I will, I’ll do anything, just don’t shut me out like this.

His phone becomes an extension of that desperation, messages stacking one after another in your chat despite never getting a reply, the timestamps turning into a painful reminder of how long it’s been since you last said anything to him

his texts ranging from apologies to explanations to moments where he doesn’t even know what to say anymore except please, just that one word sitting there, raw and stripped of any pride he once had he calls too, more than he should, more than he ever thought he would, each attempt ending the same way with the call cutting off, your silence louder than any rejection he could’ve heard.

He tries reaching you through other ways too, lingering outside your department building even when he knows Nayoung will shut him down, asking mutual friends who either avoid answering or flat out tell him to stop, even going as far as sitting in places he knows you used to like, the library corner, the café near campus, hoping you might show up out of habit but you don’t, and every empty chair, every missed chance only makes the absence feel heavier.

By the middle of the week, the version of Jungkook people are used to seeing the confident one, the one who has it together, the one who knows exactly what he’s doing starts slipping away completely, replaced by someone quieter, someone who barely speaks unless spoken to, someone who shows up to class but doesn’t really be there, his focus gone, his energy drained, his eyes constantly tired like he hasn’t slept properly in days.

He stops caring about what he wears, throws on whatever is closest without thinking, his hair left messy, his usual attention to detail disappearing entirely, and people notice it’s not subtle but he doesn’t care enough to fix it, doesn’t care enough about anything except the fact that you’re not there anymore, that the one person who filled every part of his day so naturally is now completely out of reach.

He finds himself going back to old habits without even realizing it, sitting alone more often, keeping his head down, avoiding unnecessary conversations, slipping back into that quieter, almost invisible version of himself he used to be before you came into his life and pulled him out of it piece by piece, and the realization of that alone is enough to make his chest tighten because it only reminds him of what he lost and who he lost it with.

It’s not just about missing you it’s about feeling like everything that made his life warmer, louder, better somehow left with you, leaving behind something dull and empty that he doesn’t know how to fix.

By the end of the week, the silence becomes unbearable, not because it’s new, but because it hasn’t changed, not even a little, and that’s when it truly sinks in not just that you’re ignoring him, but that you mean it, that you’re choosing to stay away, that you might actually be serious about never wanting to see him again.

and that thought settles in his chest like something heavy and permanent, making it harder to breathe, harder to think, harder to function in a way that feels normal.It feels dramatic, it feels ridiculous even but it also feels real in a way he can’t ignore.

Because without you it genuinely feels like he’s falling apart.By Saturday night, Jungkook isn’t expecting anything anymore.

Not a message, not a call, not even a glimpse of you across campus like before he’s gotten used to the absence in the worst way possible, the kind that settles into his routine until it feels permanent, like this is just how things are now.

So when he ends up at the party, it’s not because he wants to be there, not because he’s in the mood to drink or socialize or pretend like everything is fine it’s because Taehyung dragged him out, said something about him looking like a ghost all week, about needing to get out before he completely loses it, and Jungkook didn’t have the energy to argue.

The music is loud, the place crowded, bodies moving, people laughing, lights flashing but none of it really registers to him at first, not properly, not until he sees you and everything else fades.

You’re standing across the room, surrounded by people, laughing actually laughing, not forced, not strained, but real, the kind of laugh that used to come so easily around him, and for a second, it hits him so hard it almost knocks the breath out of him.

You look like yourself. Not broken, not crying, not the version of you he left behind that night but whole, put together, glowing in a way that feels unfair considering how wrecked he’s been without you.You look beautiful effortlessly so and carefree.

Like none of it touched you like he didn’t touch you. Something in his chest twists at that, but at the same time, there’s a small, quiet part of him that feels relief, that feels glad that you’re not hurting the way he imagined you were all week, that maybe you’re okay even if he’s not.

He finds himself smiling faintly just for a second. Before reality settles back in.And then he’s moving.

He doesn’t overthink it this time, doesn’t give himself the chance to hesitate or back out, because if he does, he knows he won’t go through with it, so he just walks straight toward you, weaving through the crowd until he’s close enough that you finally notice him.

Your eyes meet his and whatever he expected its not this there’s no softness no emotion at all, really. Just indifference.“Can we talk?” he asks, his voice coming out quieter than he intended, careful, like he’s stepping on fragile ground.

You don’t even blink.“We’re talking now,” you reply flatly, your tone almost bored, like this is an inconvenience more than anything else.

Jungkook exhales slightly, glancing around at the people nearby, the noise, the attention already starting to shift toward them.“Not here,” he says, a little more urgently this time, lowering his voice. “Can we go somewhere else?”

You shake your head immediately.“No,” you say, crossing your arms slightly, your expression unchanged. “Either you say it here or don’t say it at all.”There’s no room for negotiation just a wall.

Jungkook swallows hard, his chest tightening as he looks at you for a second longer, like he’s trying to find something anything in your face that isn’t so closed off.But there’s nothing so he nods slowly. And then before his brain can catch up with what he’s doing he drops to his knees.

Right there in front of you the shift is immediate.The noise around you dips, conversations falter, heads turn, the crowd sensing something happening, something worth watching, and within seconds, attention gathers like it always does, people pausing, whispering, pulling out their phones again.

Jungkook doesn’t care.He looks up at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly, his hands resting awkwardly on his thighs, his pride long gone, his voice steady only because he’s forcing it to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words simple but heavy, carrying everything he hasn’t been able to say all week. “For what I said for what I didn’t say for standing there and letting people talk about you like that.”Your expression doesn’t change.

“I was wrong,” he continues, his voice tightening slightly despite himself. “Every single thing I said I didn’t mean it not a word i was just ” he exhales, frustrated with himself, searching for something that makes sense, “I was trying to impress someone who didn’t even matter, and I ended up hurting the only person who ever did.”

There are murmurs now whispers spreading through the crowd but he keeps going because he has to.“I’ve been trying to reach you all week,” he says, his gaze not leaving yours, even when it hurts to hold it. “Calling, texting, going to your place I know you saw it i know you ignored it and you have every right to.”

Still nothing from you still that same unreadable look.“But I can’t just leave it like this,” he adds, his voice softer now, more raw, less controlled. “Not when I know I’m the one who ruined everything.”He pauses for a second.Then says the one thing he’s never said out loud before.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” he admits, his voice quieter now but steady, the truth sitting heavy between you. “Since we were kids i just I didn’t think I ever had a chance you were always you and I was just”He lets out a small, breathless laugh.

“Me”A few people in the crowd shift slightly, the atmosphere thick with attention now, but Jungkook doesn’t look away.

“I thought if I moved on,” he continues, “if I tried to like someone else, if I just got over it it would be easier that’s why I went after Yebin not because I actually felt something real but because I thought it would make it go away.”

Your face doesn’t soften and that’s when it hits him he might already be too late.He swallows hard, his voice quieter now.“But it never did,” he finishes. “It was always you.”Silence lingers for a second.

And then you laugh but sharply almost like it’s funny. Jungkook freezes because that’s the last reaction he expected.You tilt your head slightly, looking down at him like he’s said something ridiculous, something not even worth taking seriously.

“Don’t act like you’re sorry or in love with me or something, babe,” you say, your tone laced with sarcasm, the word babe sounding more like an insult than anything else. “It doesn’t suit you.”A few people around you shift uncomfortably.

But you don’t stop “Nerds like you shouldn’t be hanging around people who ‘fuck around’ so casually, right?” you continue, your voice mocking now, echoing his own words back at him in a way that hits harder than anything else. “Or wait what was the word you used?”

You pretend to think for a second.Then shrug lightly “Whore?” you say, your voice flat again. “Slut?”Jungkook’s chest tightens painfully, his face paling slightly as the words hit him all over again this time from your mouth.

“And if you’re so sorry,” you add, your gaze sharpening slightly, your voice dropping just enough to cut deeper, “if you love me so much”You take a small step closer“Why don’t you fucking go away?”

For a moment after your question, the world around Jungkook feels like it’s gone completely still, like all the noise and movement and people watching have faded into something distant and muffled, because all he can focus on is you standing in front of him, looking at him like he’s someone you don’t recognize anymore and maybe don’t even want to.

His throat feels dry, his chest tight, but he doesn’t look away not this time.Because if there’s one thing he’s not going to do again, it’s stay silent when it matters.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he says, his voice low at first but steady, each word deliberate like he’s forcing them past everything sitting heavy in his chest. “And I’m not going to stop trying either.”A few people in the crowd shift again, the tension thickening, but Jungkook doesn’t even register it now.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” he continues, his gaze fixed on yours, unwavering despite the way your expression hasn’t softened even a little. “I know I screwed everything up, and I know saying sorry isn’t enough but I’m going to prove it I’ll make it right. I’ll make sure you know that what I feel for you is real.”

There’s something raw in his voice now, something unpolished and honest in a way he’s never been before, like he’s stripped himself down to nothing but the truth and is just offering it, even if it gets rejected.But you don’t respond with words instead, you lift your drink.And for a split second, Jungkook doesn’t understand what you’re about to do.

Until you do it the liquid hits his face without warning, cold and sudden, dripping down from his hair to his jaw, soaking into his shirt as the crowd around you reacts in sharp murmurs and hushed gasps, the moment snapping into something louder, messier, harder to ignore.

Jungkook doesn’t move he just stays there, still on his knees, eyes lifting back to you slowly as the drink runs down his skin, his chest rising unevenly.You crouch down in front of him then, bringing yourself to his level, your gaze sharp, your expression completely unbothered in a way that makes it worse.

“This?” you say, your voice quiet but cutting straight through him. “This is nothing compared to what you did to me.”Each word lands heavy and unforgiving.“And for punching Jimin,” you add, your tone hardening slightly, your eyes not leaving his for even a second.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his hands curling slightly against his thighs, but he stays silent, listening because he knows he has to.

“Jimin is far better than you,” you continue, your voice steady, almost too calm for the weight of what you’re saying. “And it’s none of your damn business if he hugs me or kisses me or if we sleep together or even get back together.”

Something in Jungkook’s chest twists sharply at that, his breath catching for just a second, the words hitting deeper than he expected, but he doesn’t interrupt you “And you don’t get to act like you have a say in it,” you finish, your tone final, like you’re drawing a line he can’t cross anymore.

Jungkook swallows, his voice quieter now when he finally speaks, almost like it’s being dragged out of him.“I was jealous,” he admits.

“Whatever,” you say, straightening up again, your expression completely dismissive now, like his words don’t carry any weight anymore. “Loser.” And then you walk away just like that. Leaving him there, still on his knees, soaked, humiliated, surrounded by people who are watching, whispering, judging

But none of it compares to the emptiness that settles in his chest as he watches you disappear into the crowd. Because this time he knows je didn’t just hurt you he broke something he might never get back.

─── one month later ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A month passes, but for Jungkook it doesn’t feel like time moving forward it feels like being stuck in the same moment over and over again, just replayed in different settings, different days, different attempts that all end the same way with you walking past him like he’s invisible, like he’s just another person in the crowd and not the one who used to know every little thing about you.

And yethe doesn’t stop if anything, he becomes more consistent, more stubborn about it, like he’s decided that no matter how long it takes, no matter how many times you ignore him, he’s not going anywhere not this time, not after everything he’s already lost.Every morning, without fail, there are flowers outside your apartment not random ones your favorites.

Blush peonies, always fresh, always carefully chosen, never wilted, because he remembers how you once complained about how people leave flowers only to forget about them later, how you said it felt meaningless if they weren’t taken care of.

So he replaces them every single day, quietly, before you even step out, sometimes earlier than he should, just to make sure they’re there when you open the door.The notes change too.

They’re no longer desperate the way they were in the first week, no longer filled with frantic apologies or messy sentences that barely make sense they’re calmer now, more honest, more patient.

I’m still here

You don’t have to forgive me today

I’ll wait

Eat properly, please

You have your presentation today good luck

He doesn’t sign them he knows you’ll know.On campus, he doesn’t try to corner you anymore doesn’t block your path doesn’t force conversations you clearly don’t want to have.Instead, he shows up in quieter ways.

If you forget your notes in class, they somehow end up on your desk the next day, neatly organized, highlighted exactly the way you like them.

If a professor suddenly assigns extra work, Jungkook’s already emailed you a breakdown of it before you even realize how complicated it is, simplified in a way only he knows how to do ( even though he is an aerospace engineer major )

If someone talks shit about you even slightly it doesn’t last not anymore because Jungkook doesn’t stay silent now.He shuts it down immediately, whether it’s in group chats, in class, or in passing conversations, his voice calm but firm in a way that makes people think twice before saying anything again.

He doesn’t look at you when he does it doesn’t expect you to notice but he does it anyway.He also changes not in the performative way he used to, not in the way that was meant to impress someone else but in a quieter, more grounded way, like he’s trying to become someone better not just for you, but because he finally understands what it means to be someone worth staying for.

He studies more seriously again, returns to the version of himself he abandoned somewhere along the way, but this time there’s something different about it something steadier, less insecure, less dependent on validation.

He stops chasing attention stops trying to prove himself to people who don’t matter stops pretending. And maybe the biggest thing he gives you space even when it clearly kills him.

He watches you from a distance sometimes, not in a creepy way, but in the quiet moments where your paths cross naturally, his gaze soft but restrained, like he’s reminding himself not to step closer, not to push when you’ve made it clear you don’t want him near.

And you don’t budge not once not when you see the flower not when you read the notes.Not when you notice the small things he does.Your expression stays the same guarded, distant, unmoved and it drives him insane in the most silent, suffocating way possible.

But still he doesn’t stop because stopping would mean accepting that he’s lost you for good.And he’s not ready to do that not yet.

As for Yebin that situation doesn’t stay buried either. It starts small fragments of truth slipping out, things Jungkook initially keeps to himself until one day, something in him just snaps not out of anger this time, but out of clarity.

Because he finally understands something he didn’t before Yebin was never about him she was about you. Jealousy and resentment agrudge that had nothing to do with anything you actually did.

Apparently, her ex boyfriend someone you barely even paid attention to had fallen for you, hard enough to break things off with her, and instead of dealing with that like a normal person, she held onto it, twisted it, let it grow into something ugly enough that when she saw you again, she decided to hurt you the only way she knew how.

By using him by feeding into his worst moments by turning him into a weapon against you. And Jungkook he hates himself for falling into it for letting it happen for being part of the reason you got hurt.So he fixes it the only way he can.

He makes it public not in a dramatic, messy way but in a controlled, undeniable way.Screenshots messages proof of what Yebin said, what she implied, the way she manipulated things, the way she pushed narratives about you that weren’t true.

He just puts the truth out there and the truth spreads fast faster than rumors faster than lies.The same people who once whispered about you now turn their attention elsewhere, conversations shifting, perspectives changing as everything pieces together in a way that makes it impossible to ignore what actually happened.

Yebin’s reputation doesn’t just take a hit it collapsed xompletely.The same attention she thrived on turns against her, the whispers now about her, the looks no longer admiring but judging, questioning, cold.

And when the university gets involved it gets worse because it’s not just about drama anymore.It’s about conduct and behavior and consequences.She loses her scholarship.

Just like that and with it everything she built here. Jungkook doesn’t feel satisfaction not really.Because none of it changes what happened to you none of it erases the things he said none of it gives him back what he lost.It just settles something insidehim.A quiet understanding that at the very least

He won’t let anyone else hurt you like that again even if you never forgive him.Even if you never look at him the same way even if he has to stand at a distance forever he’ll still choose you every single time.

That day starts like every other for Jungkook quiet, heavy, filled with that same dull ache that has settled into his chest over the past month, something he has learned to carry without complaining because he knows he deserves it, because every second of it feels like a consequence he has no right to escape.

He has something to drop off at the literature department’s staff lounge, something simple, something that shouldn’t matter, but the moment he hears literature department, there’s that small, involuntary pull in his chest, that familiar, stubborn hope that maybe just maybe he’ll see you, even if it’s just for a second, even if you don’t look at him, even if you walk right past him like you’ve been doing.

He tells himself he’s not expecting anything but he is , he always is. Because no matter how many days pass without seeing you, without hearing your voice, without even catching a glimpse of you across campus, some part of him still clings to the idea that you’re there, somewhere nearby, just out of reach but not completely gone.

And that thought that illusion shatters in an instant. He’s just outside the staff lounge when he hears it, not even trying to eavesdrop, not even paying attention at first, just standing there, adjusting his grip on the file in his hands, his mind somewhere else entirelyuntil your name cuts through the air so sharply that it forces his attention back.

“…did you know that [ name ] from my class got into NYU as an exchange student?”The words don’t register immediately.Like his brain doesn’t quite process them fast enough.

But then “She left two days ago.” everything stops. The file in his hands feels suddenly heavier, his fingers tightening around it instinctively as his heartbeat spikes, loud and uneven in his ears, his breath catching in his throat like something just lodged there and refuses to move.

No that doesn’t make sense it doesn’t “…honestly she deserved that,” another voice adds from inside, casual, unaware of the damage being done just outside the door. “She’s an excellent writer she’s going to make a name for herself.”

The words echo and something inside Jungkook snaps. The file slips from his hands hits the ground with a dull thud that sounds louder than it should in the sudden ringing silence in his head, but he doesn’t even look at it, doesn’t register it, doesn’t think twice. Because he’s already moving.

He turns and runs his feet hit the ground hard as he pushes forward, weaving through the corridors, past people who call out in confusion, past everything that would normally slow him down, his chest tightening with every step, his breathing turning uneven almost immediately but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, doesn’t even consider it.

Because what he just heard it can’t be true, it can’t. His mind races, thoughts colliding, overlapping, trying to make sense of something that refuses to settle.You left?No you wouldn’t you wouldn’t just leave not like that.l not without saying anything not without his chest tightens painfully.

Not without telling him “You wouldn’t do that ” he mutters under his breath as he runs, his voice strained, almost like he’s trying to convince himself more than anything else. “You wouldn’t just go”

Right?

His heartbeat pounds harder, his lungs starting to burn, but he keeps going, faster now, like if he gets there soon enough, he’ll prove it wrong, he’ll see your door, your things, something anything that tells him you’re still here.

That this is just a misunderstanding that his brain is messing with him that he’s overthinking that you’re still here please.

By the time he reaches your apartment building, he’s breathless, his chest heaving, his legs already aching from the sudden sprint, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause, just rushes up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his heart racing so fast it feels like it might give out.

He reaches your floor turns the corner and stops because something is wrong your door is open wide and there are boxes. A Strangers a man standing near the entrance, moving things inside like he belongs there.Jungkook’s stomach drops.

No.

No, no, no—

He steps forward slowly at first, his breathing still uneven, his eyes scanning the space like he’s trying to find something familiar, something that proves this is temporary, that you’re still here somewhere, that this isn’t what it looks like.

But there’s nothing mo trace of you no sign just emptiness and someone else filling it.He swallows hard, his throat dry as he approaches the guy, his voice coming out rough, uneven, like it’s being dragged out of him.

“Hey—” he starts, slightly breathless, his words stumbling over each other, “the person who lived here where is she?”

The guy barely looks up at first, too focused on what he’s doing, but then he glances at Jungkook briefly, completely unaware of the storm standing in front of him.

“Oh,” he says casually, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t change everything. “She moved out.”Jungkook freezes.“…when?” he manages to ask, his voice quieter now, almost hollow.

“Two days ago,” the guy replies, already turning back to his boxes like the conversation is over, like it’s just another piece of information, nothing significant.

But for Jungkook it feels like everything caves in at once two days you’ve been gone for two days and he didn’t know didn’t see you didn’t get a chance didn’t get to fix anything didn’t even get to say goodbye.

His chest tightens so hard it hurts, his breathing faltering as he just stands there, staring past the guy, past the open door, into a space that used to be yours and is now nothing.

Empty just like that nd for the first time since all of this started Jungkook realizes something far worse than being ignored you didn’t just shut him out you left.

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🗯️ JO’s NOTES : hiii pookiesss, hope y’all have been doing good!! finally, the long awaited part 7 is out YAYAYAYAYA 🥹 TEACH ME is almost over we only have one chapter left and that is freaking me out. this series has literally come such a long way.

also, how did you guys enjoy arirang ? i freaking loved it my favs are body to body, normal, and into the sun. what are yours ? alsooo i’ve decided that i’m going to be posting every week 🤭 dropping a teaser for HOUSE TOUR next week, so stay tuned <333

comment down your thoughts on this chapter ! 700+ notes for the final part ( oh my goshhhh i can’t believe i’m saying this 😭 ) and if you wanna be tagged, comment down too !

hope you guys have an amazing day / night and i can’t wait for my inbox to be filled when i wake up 🫶 love you my pookies dookies, mwahhhh 💕

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