jungkook was undeniably your closest friend. you two came as a pair, packaged tightly together and wrapped in clingfilm. you’d known each other since you were both ten, sat together in primary school, stealing glances at one another as though the intrigue you both kept could hardly make either of you look away. the boy had won your heart in a flash when he offered his banana milk to you after punching the horrible boy that kept bullying you, all whilst offering you a big toothy grin.
he came shopping with you, standing outside of changing rooms with crossed arms and big biceps, analysing every short little skirt and blouse. he’d sit beside you in all of your classes, helping you with your note taking, buying you special highlighters so you could make them prettier. and at parties? jungkook would stand, arm around your waist, eyes shooting daggers at any man that tried to even think about coming near you whilst he took care of you.
you see, jungkook being your best friend was indeed undeniable. the other undeniable fact? he was utterly, completely and entirely in love with you.
it would have been fine, if you weren’t so clueless. you took his actions as nothing more than him being friendly, and comfortable with you and sure - you both dated other people, but he’d made it abundantly clear to every woman in his life that you came first in the peking order. naturally, this didn’t make them stay long.
he had a deep, twisted sort of obsession when it came to you, constantly needing you close, wanting to hold you, smell you, caress you in anyway possible. you let him, of course - you were a sweet little thing, you always assumed it was normal despite everyone in your life questioning it. you were asked a million times a week whether you and jungkook were dating to which you’d always tilt your head, mumbling out a confused no. whenever he was asked, he’d simply smirk, and shrug his shoulders, playing the ambiguity card.
you weren’t sly, however. he could see right through you. no matter how innocent you’d act, he knew you enjoyed the attention, craved it and needed it in a way that resembled himself - you were a mere reflection of one another. he had just come to understand his feelings first.
y/n and jungkook, a simple pair. you couldn’t find one without the other, and despite him being the openly touchy and expressive one out of you both, the only person who thought it was friendly was you. the irony was, you knew deep down it was all a facade you were keeping up in hopes he would never stop. it felt too good to change the game now.
even now, jungkook knocked on your door at 2 in the morning, hair messy, coming from one of the libraries after a long PHD study session. you sleepily rose from your bed, already half way to dreamland as you lazily opened the door. though you weren’t expecting him, you knew it could only be him knocking.
“did i wake you?” he murmured quietly as you yawned against the door, letting him in.
he walked in, placing his bag and shoes by the entrance whilst he watched you sleepily turn back to your bedroom. “mm, but it’s okay.”
he followed you in, watching you snuggle back against your pillow. “scoot over.”
you did exactly that, shuffling, watching as he joined you in your bed, taking over a large majority of the space. you groaned a little as his hands found your hips, large fingers pressing into your skin whilst he pulled you into his chest with utter ease.
“smell good.” you purred, curling your face into his neck. he felt himself visibly relax, breathing in the scent of your hair.
“it’s the cologne you got me.” he murmured down at you.
you groaned in response, pleased at his answer.
if anyone were to see you both right now, the last possible thing they’d ever assume you to be was friends and yet here you were. best friends, even, through thick and thin. you’d learnt not to question jungkook’s wandering hands, how it brushed your ass every time he ran it up and down your back. he, in return, didn’t question you on the way you’d steal his clothes, curling into them whilst demanding to lay on his chest, wrapped tightly in his thick biceps. a mutual understanding, if you will.
“hey, we’re still on for tomorrow right? jimin’s party?” he whispered down, causing a subtle shiver down to go down your neck.
you huffed a little. “yes. now shut up, i’m sleepy.”
he grinned at that, bunny teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he pressed quick peck to the top of your head, finding himself joining you into dreamland.
—
you could hear the boom of jimin’s house minutes before you’d even arrived, offering a look over at your best friend yejin who was a giggling mess at the back seat of the uber. the blonde haired boy was notorious for his gatherings, unlimited alcohol thanks to his connections, and a gathering of people that rivalled multiple parties combined. he was a self proclaimed man of the people, offering his large home as a service to society. or so he claimed.
you slipped out once you’d arrived, pulling the hem of your tiny little dress down. the vibe for tonight was to have fun, find someone, get drunk, get ruined all before cosying back up in your warm, big bed. it didn’t feel like too much to ask for, and jimin’s party was the prime location to do it.
you followed yejin inside the too large house, immediately saying hi to people upon your arrival. within minutes, you’d both done your round, and you were finally walking up to your friends who were all mingling in the kitchen.
“hi.” you squealed at the sight of your party host, who grinned widely before giving you a big hug. “having fun so far?”
“jimin, this is insane.” you laughed, taehyung wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “more than insane, should of seen what happened 20 minutes ago, some girl slapped her boyfriend for flirting with someone else.”
“yeah well, had to try out do the other one.” jimin quipped, referencing his previous gatherings whilst already preparing you a drink.
“the fact you’ve managed that is insane.” yejin grimaced whilst taking a sip of the concoction yoongi had prepared.
your eyes flickered to the tall, tatted boy stood by the wall, back pressed against the surface. a loose tshirt sat on his figure, and though it shielded you from seeing the hard panels on his body, the sheer expanse of his shoulders were enough to have your legs move towards him within seconds.
jungkook was staring at you, gaze as intense as ever. his tongue draped over his bottom lip momentarily, wetting it at the mere sight of you. “hi.” he murmured down at you, lowering his head so his lips would graze your ear just slightly.
a shiver went down your spine. your fingers reached for his stomach, clutching his top gently. “already drinking? thought you’d wait for me.”
“been nursing it. don’t drink that.” he moved the cup jimin had given you out of your hand, preparing one for you instead. he was possessive like that, small acts that you could never pin point.
“hm? this tastes good.” you hummed, resting against him.
his arm slipped around your waist, done too casually despite the weight of it on your body. his eyes wandered over the tiny dress you were wearing, eyebrows furrowing.
“is this new?”
you peered up. “yeah! you like it?” you twirled a little, his arm loosening slightly. “got it today, yejin said it makes my legs look good.”
he grunted, half in appreciation and other half in annoyance that your mutual friend had you dressing in such a risqué dress. the thought of other men noticing you enraged him, in a way that wasn’t normal; not that he gave a fuck.
“i do like it. aren’t you cold?” he asked with narrowed eyes, hand returning to the bottom of your back.
you grinned into your cup, tilting your head. “that’s what you’re for, duh.”
at that, a smirk formed in his lips, the thought of you needing him in a way he was only more than happy to be was comforting to his obsessive brain.
the two of you muttered away, hidden away in a corner whilst your friends chatted around you. to the naked eye, you both appeared to be much more than the best friends you claimed to be. with your hands curled onto him, feeling his abs and hard chest under his clothes whilst his own were wandering up and down your back, often dipping low enough to touch your ass.
it didn’t register in your head that this wasn’t a normal thing. that friends shouldn’t touch each other so intimately, especially not ones that were as close as you and jungkook. the mask of friendship acted as a guide for you both, offering a rope of direction despite both of you often letting go, making your own decisions that completely disregarded what was supposed to be.
“gonna go to the bathroom.” you groaned suddenly.
jungkook had been stood in front of you, leaned over so you were caged against the wall, forcing you to push his chest lightly. “want me to come with?”
“what, so you can watch me piss? does that get you off?” you teased, watching as he rolled his eyes.
his tongue pushed against his cheek. “yeah, yeah, hurry up. i’ll hold your drink.”
you giggled to yourself, loving how riled up he’d get at a mere poke or jab, before sliding out of his grip, feeling his fingers tighten against you before letting go. jungkook watched you walk away, greedily taking in every inch of skin he could get. from your legs to your arms, the way your ass looked so fucking good in that dress. he let out a quiet groan.
you walked up the stairs, avoiding the moans emitting from different rooms like the plague. slipping into the bathroom, you quickly did your business before looking in the mirror whilst washing your hands. the alcohol had allowed for a flush against your cheeks and your pupils were dilated, you felt a rush all over your body. tonight was supposed to be chill, but the air felt electric.
you weren’t sure if it was the music, the amount of people or even the selection of drinks - but you felt slightly out of it. you shook your head, forcing yourself to stay present again before you began walking back to your best friend, almost too excitedly.
unfortunately for you, by the time you were slipping back into the kitchen, your tatted friend wasn’t there anymore, with hobi letting you know he’d gone into the main foyer. you, of course, listened and snuck between multiple people, exploring the house in a bid to find jungkook.
you huffed a little, realising he wasn’t there either. curse jimin, you thought, who needed a house this big anyway? your legs travelled around the expanse of the house, feeling slightly annoyed at the loss of your best friend who was usually stuck to your hip. you knew he preferred to stick together on nights like this, so you weren’t sure where he could be.
your legs took you to the living room, finding him leaning towards a corner which made your head tilt slightly, walking over immediately only to be stopped in your tracks the second you realised what was going on.
he had a girl in front of him, tall and leggy, and it took you no time to figure out who it was. yuna. his on and off ex of two years, toxic as could be, the one woman in the entire world you truly couldn’t stand whatsoever. unbeknownst to you, everytime you’d get into a relationship or begin seeing anyone, jungkook would return to her as a distraction, in hopes of making you jealous, to evoke any emotion he physically could. was it healthy? certainly not, but he didn’t really care for anyone that wasn’t you anyway.
you weren’t privy to this information, which meant your disdain for the frankly horrible woman felt unfounded. you felt guilty whenever you’d think about it, knowing you didn’t like her simply because she had jungkook when he felt more yours than anyone else’s, not that you could ever discuss that with anyone. you huffed at the sight, arms crossed whilst staring right at them.
you both had made a pact. you’d broken up with your ex boyfriend a few months ago, and at the time you felt like it was potentially a mistake, but jungkook had talked you out of it. said if you don’t go back, he wouldn’t go back to his ex either and selfishly, you knew that was what you wanted. yeah, you might have missed your ex, but the secret possibility of having him all to yourself was too much not to indulge in. seeing him now, however, had you drowning in annoyance.
yuna’s gaze flickered over jungkook’s shoulder, noticing you stood a few metres away looking at them openly. she wasn’t very fond of you either. it was hard to stomach the fact she would always be second in jungkook’s eyes, if even that, compared to the best friend he kept so closely to him. you could call and he’d drop the entire world to be by your side, so it made her bitter, naturally. seeing you stood there, visibly losing in comparison to her made a small smirk form as she tilted her head upwards to look at jungkook, her hands suddenly sliding all over his chest and shoulders.
you scoffed, deciding you’d had enough as you turned on your heel and exited the room with a grumble. if he wanted her so bad, he could have her, you didn’t care. he wasn’t allowed to come back to yours after though, a broken promise is still a broken promise and you held a grudge like no one else.
“now what’s got you frowning at a party like this?” jin questioned as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, seemingly appearing out of no where as you trudged to the kitchen to get drunk.
“nothing. it’s stupid.” you shook your head.
“probably, but if it’s upset you, let’s talk.”
you sighed, as you grabbed the bottle of vodka, making a concoction you knew would be too strong for you to handle. you were a lightweight after all. “jungkook’s in a corner getting all close with yuna.”exess
“stupid boy.” he shook his head. “are you upset because you don’t like seeing them together?” he asked, leaning against the fridge, watching as yoongi and jimin walked in, seemingly with the same idea as you.
“what..no it’s not that.” your cheeks flushed, a cheeky grin forming on his face that jimin was beginning to rival, understanding the context of the conversation immediately. “yeah? why you getting all red then?” the younger man teased.
“shut up.” you hissed, making him throw his hands up.
“okay. let’s say for arguments sake you’re not jealous, are you really gonna let that something as silly as that ruin your night?” jin asked, bumping your hip whilst making his own drink. “you can’t let his bad decisions dictate how you feel, enjoy yourself.”
“god. boring. don’t listen to him, y/n.” jimin huffed, grabbing your arms and twirling you a little. “don’t get upset. get even.”
“huh?” yoongi asked, eyes narrowing. “okay, feels like it goes without saying that you shouldn’t listen to jimin right now.”
you were intrigued, however. “what do you mean?” you asked, peering at him.
“get even.” he reiterated with a smirk. “gotta play him by his own game.”
“yeah, well, it’s not like my ex is here.” you grumbled at him, taking a sip of your too harsh drink, making you wince. jin tutted, stealing it out of your hand and making you another, more appropriate one.
jimin’s smirk could have rivaled the cheshire cat, with the way it pinned to either side of his face, clearly loving this game. he knew about jungkook’s feelings for you, and about the hidden feelings you could barely admit to yourself - wasn’t it time he had some fun, and made sure progress was being made?
“ah, but i have something better.” he tutted, leading you out to the entrance of the kitchen so you could look out all of the people here. “so many eligible bachelors. why go for something you’re used to, when you could try something new?”
you pondered his words whilst you heard yoongi groan, taking the drink jin was preparing for you and downing it himself.
soon enough, you had found yourself the perfect man. you couldn’t really remember his name, jaehoon, jaehyun, something along those lines - not that it really mattered. he was the right fit for what you needed. you flirted in a way you knew worked best, eyelashes fluttering and a few casual touches here and there, he was practically smitten by the end.
you’d even gotten up to dance, his hands travelling all over the expanse of your stomach, your hips and hair. he was letting you know exactly what he felt and what he was thinking through his eager touch. normally, you’d feel disgusted, you weren’t someone that revelled in attention like this but it was hard to think when you were being guided by jealousy.
“wanna get out of here?” he whispered down at you, voice heavy with intent.
at first, you faltered, as though ice water had been splashed onto your face, suddenly aware of what you were doing. one look upwards and you noticed jungkook wasn’t even around you, and for some stupid reason you couldn’t rationalise, it made you angry. he broke the pact. he had you walking around the party looking for him. him and his touches, wandering hands and fleeting looks - you knew friends didn’t do that, but it was jungkook. it was okay if it was him, you preferred it even, and yet here you stood, about to make the biggest mistake of your life out of pure ego.
“yeah.” you huffed a little, carried away by your thoughts.
the man in front of you couldn’t believe his luck, you were easily one of the prettiest girls at the whole party and entirely out of his league so he wasn’t about to waste a single minute. he took your hand, smirk big whilst leading you through the house, and towards the door.
you passed some of your friends, who were all looking at you inquisitively, managing to get to the foyer before you were so rudely stopped by a hand yanking your own away from his grip.
“what the fuck are you doing?” jungkook appeared, chest big and shoulders as wide as they could be.
he was inching towards the shorter man, eyes narrowed dangerously as though something completely unfathomable was taking place in front of him.
“who are you?” his eyebrows narrowed. “let go.” you hissed at the same time, yanking your hand out of his grip.
he turned to you, eyebrows furrowing in half confusion and annoyance. “what, you’re gonna leave with this guy? are you fucking stupid?”
“what’s it to you?” your eyes were matching his in emotion, whilst the man beside you watched you both in confusion. “listen, man, she told me she was single..”
“yeah, well she’s not.” he broke eye contact; facing him once more. “touch my girl again and i’ll fucking kill you.”
that was all he needed to hear; backing down immediately and all but scurrying away. jungkook was very well known, he had a presence that made most men uncomfortable, a cocktail mix of strength and anger that anyone would shy away from. it was secretly one of your favourite things about him, you were convinced he was invincible - the thought of him being able to protect you so thoroughly had butterflies erupting in your stomach.
“jungkook.” you hissed once more, anger bubbling in your stomach.
he didn’t bother to respond, grabbing you by your hips and pushing you almost harshly against the wall, secretly making sure your head didn’t bang. “what was that? leaving with some guy, you don’t even know who he was.”
“would it have been better if it was someone i knew, then?” you scoffed, hands gripping his shirt where his hardened chest sat beneath, pushing him away though he didn’t budge whatsoever. stupid, concrete body.
his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. “you don’t fucking leave with anyone that isn’t me, you hear me?”
you rolled your eyes. “you don’t get to act all innocent with me, i’m surprised you’re not upstairs with yuna right now.”
“what are you talking about?”
“i saw you, so don’t even bother.” you huffed, pushing him by his chest once more only for him to grab your hands, pinning them to the wall above you.
“yeah? tell me what you saw, hm.” he darkly whispered down at you. “did you hear what we were talking about, or are you jumping to conclusions?”
you wiggled slightly, his chest now all but pressed against yours. this position was entirely indecent, and if either of you were more aware of your surroundings, you’d be thankful that everyone was currently too drunk to notice you.
“you said you wouldn’t talk to her anymore, that was the pact.” you hissed. “you promised and now you’ve broken it, so i can do whatever i want, you don’t get to dictate my decisions.”
he scoffed in your face, and your eyes widened lightly at the mere audacity, wiggling again against his grip. all this was doing was pushing your body tighter against him.
“you know, if you had stuck around longer than 5 seconds you would have actually heard what we were talking about.” he all but grumbled. “she approached me, wouldn’t leave me alone, i’ve spent the last 15 minutes telling her to fuck off, that i’ve only got my eyes on one girl, only have time for you.”
you stopped wiggling, his words hitting you one after the other.
“imagine my fucking surprise when i try find you, only to find some fuck leading you out of this place.” his face was dangerously close to yours. “what were you planning, y/n? trying to get me angry? was that your game plan?”
you didn’t respond, nervously keeping eye contact. your thighs were pressed against each other tightly, a sick part of you enjoying this more than anything, the way he was being a little rougher with you whilst still being protective - it made your brain sing.
“and what would you have done once you were both alone, hm? he wanted to fuck you.” he growled harshly, making you grumble under your breath. “you think a guy like that is worth fucking?”
“okay, fine, i shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. but you still broke the pact.” you weakly pushed back, your ego too high to let him win.
jungkook knew it, knew the only reason you’d gone so far was out of jealousy and it made his heart clench harshly - it felt fucking incredible. his girl, his y/n, so bothered at the sight of another woman staking their claim on him that you’d become this blind? if only you knew the way he had shut yuna down, leaving the girl practically in tears after he explained how deeply his heart and brain were intertwined into you - that he’d take morsels from you if it meant being close to you, whilst he wouldn’t even look at her twice even if she’d offer herself whole. he knew it was cruel, but in that moment, when all he wanted to do was return to you, he hardly cared.
“yeah, i did.” he murmured after a moment, slowly easing your hands back down from the wall, now pushing them back onto his chest. he could feel your fingers pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt once more. “forgive me, baby. swear my intentions were good.”
you nibbled on your bottom lip. he was still so close, his nose bumped against yours gently, “fine.” you huffed a little, despite one of your hands drawling down to his stomach, feeling the tightness of his abs beneath.
he dipped his head so your cheeks were pressing together, his lips ghosting against your ear. “now, stay with me for the rest of the night. next man i see touching you, i’ll fuck up.”
and as you both walked away, you sported a triumph grin, not only having jungkook possessively lead you to a spot on the couch, but also have his wandering hand go from your hip to firmly grabbing your ass.
—
“how much longer?” jungkook groaned alongside yoongi, who sat beside him, arms crossed and eyes closed.
the two men were sat within the confinements of what felt like a jail, but was actually a mere clothing department. surrounded by pretty dresses and a flourish of colours, the pair felt utterly out of place, dragged here by either girl. yoongi and yejin had a weird back and forth that had been building for years, incredibly similar to your own relationship with jungkook? the difference between you, however, was they at least tried to be subtle for the sake of appearances.
“god, just wait, you’re both so impatient.” yejin huffed, whilst you both chatted away in your respective dressing rooms. “i don’t know about this one.” you murmured, loud enough for jungkook to pick up on the slight tinge of anxiety in your voice.
“come out, y/n.” he gently coaxed, noticing your feet from underneath nervously shuffling.
you did exactly that, however, your hair pulled up into a messy ponytail that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.
“wait let me see too!” yejin excitedly rushed out, the lilac tone of her dress catching yoongi’s attention.
jungkook couldn’t look away from you. a sweet grey dress that hugged every inch of you - from where it sat on your calf to the way it dipped in at your waist. it felt like your legs went on for days, your breasts accentuated. you were perfection in a bottle, and the fact you weren’t sure drove him insane.
“i really like that, actually. you look nice.” yoongi nodded in approval, yejin walking over and adjusting the straps. “oh, you are so getting this. you look hot.”
you looked over at jungkook. it was his opinion you really wanted, and you knew it wasn’t healthy, but you craved his thoughts the most. he was soaking you in hungrily, eyes dark and legs parted slightly, causing you to flicker down secretly. he was enamoured by you.
“i like it.” he grumbled. “i like it too much.”
your cheeks flushed a little, pleased with your best friend’s approval. “you sure kookie? just think this grey is too moody for a wedding, and maybe it’s too tight?”
“it’s perfect. i’m wearing black, so we’ll match.” he shook his head. yejin grinned to herself before flaunting her outfit towards yoongi who was equally as enamoured.
“ooh, are you wearing that suit we got together at the start of the year?” you excitedly asked, shuffling over to him. you were now in front of him, his legs parted as he leaned back in his chair, your body inbetween.
he was taking you in, openly. from your eyes to your lips, lips to your neck, neck to your boobs and downwards. he couldn’t get enough.
“mm, yeah. remember you saying how much you liked it.” his hands were touching you now, on your hips, sliding over the material hungrily. “i really do.” you admitted, a small, too cheeky grin forming on your face.
yejin had returned to her dressing room now, you promptly doing the same, jungkook’s hands falling off of your body, watching the dress pool at your feet from the bottom of the door. he spread his legs a little wider, accommodating for the already growing nature of his length.
“hey, you guys joining us for dinner?” yoongi asked him quietly, watching as yejin walked out, hands playing with her hair. “dunno man, might have to pass, she’s kinda tired so thought i’d take her home.”
he nodded, watching as you too came out. jungkook admired you whilst you both said your goodbyes, soon enough standing in front of him, in between his legs slightly, like before. “you don’t have to come with me if you’re hungry, kookie, i don’t mind making my own way back.”
he scoffed, whilst standing, height towering over you immediately. “gotta take my girl home, hm?”
you didn’t want to admit the pounding that formed in your chest at his words and the ease in which he said them in. he took a hold of your hand, both protective and possessive whilst leading you to the counter, not sparing you a single glance as he paid for your dress. you had known him long enough to know he’d sooner die than let you pay for anything, another thing that had you kicking your legs and screaming into your pillow.
“wait, can we go to yours instead? just remembered my house is a mess and i don’t wanna deal with that right now.” groaning into his arm whilst you walked beside him, peering up with big, hopeful eyes.
jungkook wanted to scream. as if he could say no to you.
“mm, sure. you left your stuff from last time too in case you want to shower.”
you grinned wide at the confirmation. “hm, maybe i’ll have a bath.”
within the next half hour, you were in jungkook’s bath, soapy bubbles covering your naked body whilst you hummed in delight, candles littered everywhere to create some sort of ambience. you loved coming to his place, it was much bigger and warmer than your own apartment. his scent was also everywhere, which made your brain keen.
“you hungry?” jungkook called out from the kitchen, prepared to make you a whole ass meal at your mere confirmation.
you were away with the fairies, too cozied up in the warm water and scented bubbles to even begin to hear him. jungkook frowned, realising you hadn’t responded, making him walk towards the closed door, knocking lightly and asking again.
in return, all he got was a slight hum, as though you were confused of what he was asking. without thinking, the door was already being pushed open, revealing you.
your hair was pulled up in a cute little bun, whilst your knees propped up in the water, the only sliver of skin jungkook could see whilst the rest of your body lay hidden underneath the expanse of bubbles. he watched as you peered up at him lazily, as though this was the most normal thing in the world - as though friends were supposed to walk in on each other naked.
“what did you say?” you murmured up at him whilst exhaling a little, seemingly content.
his lip quirked upwards slightly, whilst his cock thumped against the expanse of his boxers and jeans angrily. if you shifted, just slightly, just a little…
“asking if you’re hungry.” his voice has become rough, causing your eyes to flicker over to him, before slowly trailing down, noticing the way he was evidently hard.
in all honesty, you’d noticed it constantly. whether it was you waking up to his morning wood pressed tightly against you, or whether it was at parties where you’d sit on his lap only to be left with a core aching for something you weren’t sure you’d ever get.
“not really. this feels too good to leave.” a sigh left your lips dramatically, making him crouch beside you, his hand dipping in the water slightly to feel the temperature. “that does feel good.” he confirmed.
“i even put the salt thing you bought for me. feels so nice.”
if jungkook was any other man, he wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the secretive tone you were using. but, alas, he knew you better than you knew yourself, which meant he could recognise the teasing tilt to your voice with ease. you were enjoying this. you liked seeing him rock hard for you, and judging from the way your eyes kept flickering down, you were just as needy.
“yeah? mind if i join you, baby? wanna see what’s got you like this.” he was suddenly so close to your face; watching the way your pupils were dilating, your eyelids hooding whilst you offered a little nod, almost delirious.
hungrily, you watched him. he discarded his top, his jeans. he made sure your eyes were connected as he was left with his boxers, his length imprinted against the thin material, watching the way your gaze flickered down almost hungrily.
“make some room.”
it was though you were taken out of your trance, slowly pulling yourself to the corner of the massive bathtub whilst he himself got in, his boxers sat on the floor of the bathroom. jungkook rested against the opposite side of you, his back against the tub whilst you did the same, the bubbles mostly hiding you.
him, however - no he was a different story. his cock sat heavy against his stomach, pink and long, thicker than anything you’d ever seen before. it looked angry, the way it was twitching, hard and begging to be touched, visible to his sweet best friend.
he watched as you stared, little gasps leaving your mouth as you hungrily took him in. you weren’t hiding it, something he appreciated greatly.
the problem with your shared dynamic was that neither of you were shy about how you felt, making it clear to the world whilst never discussing it to one another, leaving you in this tension filled relationship where you both wanted each other in a way that felt stifling.
jungkook watched the way your chest and rose and fell, hints of your pebbled nipples coming to the surface before being hidden away once more.
“you were right. does feel good.” he casually murmured, wet hands running through his hair to keep it out of his face, as though his cock wasn’t leaking pre cum in front of you.
you weren’t sure what to say, core thumping and begging for something, anything.
he smirked slightly. “but colder than i expected.” your eyes looked up at his voice, finally listening again. “c-cold?”
“yeah. warm me up?” he tilted his head, watching as your body moved before you could even think.
you moved towards him, water sloshing, not that either of you cared, so your back was now suddenly against his chest, your naked bodies curling into one another with ease. your nudity wasn’t an issue for you, and certainly not for him, but the second you moved, you hadn’t realised this meant the bubbles were now moving away from you too.
your visibly naked body pressed against him, whilst his arm curled around you. he could see your breasts, the way they jolted with every move, causing his cock to twitch much to your non-secret enjoyment.
“feels better.” he breathed down at you, air tickling your ear, making you curl further into him. your hands were against him, one on his chest and the other at his side under the water, but your gaze had fallen directly onto his cock once more.
“pretty.” you whispered up at him. his ego was beyond anything at the minute. what do you mean his pretty little best friend was perched, naked on his chest, admiring his fat length?
he nuzzled your nose, almost condescendingly with his own, eyes dark and dilated to match your own. “yeah? you like it?”
you nodded, curling into him further whilst one of your hands drew circles against his stomach, dangerously close to where it sat. you weren’t as innocent as you looked, and jungkook fucking loved it.
his own hand curled tighter against you, fingers touching just above where your own pussy sat. “been like this since the dress shop. you looked so pretty.”
the way he was cooing at you had your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, a small grin beginning to form. “i’m happy you liked my dress.”
“i fucking loved it.” he scoffed, drawing his own circles against you. “always look so beautiful.”
the ending of his sentence was whispered down at you, as though they were words too big for either of you to hear. it did nothing to stop your grin from growing, giggling a little into him as you nuzzled closer to his chest, your fingers brushing against his cock more openly.
you watched as it twitched, whilst his own hand was beginning to fall forwards, almost cupping your heat entirely.
“kookie…” you began, nibbling down your bottom lip as you nervously looked up at him. “can..can i?”
instead of responding, jungkook took his free hand and took your own, pulling it up to his lips to plant pepper kisses all over it. your eyes were batting up at him, enjoying the affection and attention beyond anything you could ever describe, before watching him take your hand, and slowly wrap it around his dick.
your little gasp nearly had him bucking up into your hand. the way it couldn’t wrap around fully, your fingers much smaller than his and yet you wasted no time, beginning to pump him slowly, up and down.
“you’re so thick.” your voice was filled with awe, and again, his ego felt like it was about to sky rocket. jungkook wanted to close his eyes, relish the pleasurable feeling of you exploring him for the first time like he had dreamt of on so many occasions. and yet, he couldn’t look away from you, the way your eyes were hooded and your hands were moving up and down in pure intrigue. it made him want to ruin you.
“my turn.” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver. his hand that was grazing against you, now moved purposefully. jungkook ran two fingers up your slit, groaning a little at how wet you felt. despite the water growing colder each passing minute, you both felt on fire.
you let out a breathy moan, head pressing against jungkook’s cheeks as your legs opened up for him, the two of you peering up at one another.
“prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.” he huffed through a moan, your hand moving up and down his length. your faces were turned to one another, breaths mingling as your lips sat dangerously close.
god, you were so beautiful. jungkook couldn’t get over the hazy look in your eyes, the way your gaze only ever looked away to look at your hand pumping him, or his own fingers moving against you.
a loud moan left your lips once you felt jungkook push a finger in, deep and full. he wasn’t waiting for you to adjust, merely pumping it with a curled edge, hitting you exactly where you needed it. your forehead now touched his own as you adjusted your body, giving him more access whilst you too sped up your actions.
neither of you could look away, pleasuring one another as though it was the most natural thing on earth, both yearning to kiss each other and yet there still seemed to be an air of uncertainty. soon enough, he added another finger, watching as your mouth fell open and eyes shut tight.
“cmon, baby, want your eyes on me.” he whispered against you, pressing too gentle kisses to your face, making you whimper and nod whilst doing exactly that.
your hands were sloppy, almost unsure of yourself as the pleasure raked up and down your body. fortunately for you, jungkook was of the opinion you didn’t need to ever work, the concept both foreign and offensive to his mind. his hand darted out, taking a hold of your own on his cock and guided you, taking control of you whilst also fingering you, actions growing harsher.
“fuck. a pussy like this needs to be ruined. look at you; just begging to be stretched out.” his words were pounding in your brain. “bet you can’t think unless you’re leaking cum.”
you stretched your legs impossibly wider, water sloshing around you as you nodded along to his words, feeling them in the pit of your stomach. you wanted that so badly.
“jungkook, i can’t..” the moans you were letting out were loud and bouncing off of the walls of the bathroom, whilst you both grew more and more erratic.
his fingers ploughed into you, in and out, curling right against that singular spot that had you arching your back into him whilst he helped you fist his cock.
“you can.” he hissed, biting your jaw, leaving hickeys against your neck and jawline as though he had every right. “wanna feel you cum for me, sweet girl. hm? so good to me, just letting my ruin your little pussy. who does it belong to?”
“you.” you responded almost instantly, back arching as you felt something grow in the pit of your stomach. “all yours, kookie, always.”
he nodded, forcing you to look at him as he too could feel his orgasm approaching. your words were like a drug to him, feeding ever warped belief he’d ever thought. you were both on the edge, so close, so ready to break, feeling higher than ever in one another’s arms.
he pulled you in suddenly, fingers leaving your core and dropping your hand away from his own cock. you wanted to whine until you realised what he was doing, positioning your body on top of him so he could slide his cock between your slit, pushing the tip into your tight hole.
“you’re going to cum on my cock, y/n. you hear me? gonna fill you up, make sure it fucking sticks.” his words were so dark, so possessive and yet they bounced around your brain in mere pleasure.
your body was shaking, he was a tight fit, but he wasted no time, only managing to fit the tip and an extra inch inside before roughly thrusting inside of you, building on both of your impending orgasms. if you thought his fingers felt good, the painful stretch of only a part of his cock had you screaming into his face. he couldn’t stop, his hands harsh and leaving bruises on your ass as he clutched, chasing both of your orgasms. neither of you were thinking clearly, which caused jungkook to lean even closer and press his lips tightly to yours.
your brain blanked.
the movement of his lips, the way your mouths moved in unison hungrily, both of your hands moving against one another was enough to finally push you over the edge.
your legs shook whilst jungkook came too, a loud grunt leaving his lips as ropes of cum painted your walls, whilst you cried out in pleasure, the too harsh coil bursting all over your body.
you felt like you were on cloud nine, and once you had finally come down for your high, you realise you were perhaps out out of it for longer than you’d realised. your back was against jungkook’s, his arm around your waist whilst the shower head above washed both of your bodies. your legs felt weak and hard to stand on, but his grip was tight and made you steady.
“you okay?” he gently murmured down at you, with a small kiss to your forehead, causing you to nod with a little curl. “i feel so good.” you hummed, aching core a reminder of his love for you.
“good. did so good for me, sweet girl. fingered all that cum back in you too, so it’s all inside.”
his words would have scared any other girl, and yet here you were, quietly giggling to yourself like he had just said the most romantic thing on earth.
you reached over so you were turned in his arms, pressing your cheek to his chest, feeling entirely dwarfed in this position and yet it was exactly what you needed. the grin on jungkook’s lips rivalled that of a cheshire cat.
“cmon, let’s get you fed.”
the rest of the day was spent with you sat in jungkook’s arms, continuing your usual routine. you’d always been touchy, holding one another, nuzzling in one another’s neck and cuddling but this? no, this was completely different.
he had you sat on the counter whilst he cooked for you, shirtless, feeding you spoonfuls whilst he kept a hand on you at all times. later, he fed you from his lap, making sure you were full and satiated. once you were done, you both popped on a movie, watching until you felt sleepy, his arms carrying you to his bed. you slept good that night, feeling protected as you curled into jungkook’s arms, biceps wrapped around you and his fat cock hidden away in your gummy walls.
though neither of you rushed to talk about what had happened, you almost didn’t feel the need to. jungkook was yours, he always had been, and yeah you didn’t have a label, but you weren’t sure anything could accurately describe what he was to you anyway.
you fell asleep in the arms of the only man you’d ever truly cared about, body and soul, heart and mind.
—
you loved weddings more than anything else on earth. to be around people expressing joy for shared love felt pure in the sweetest of ways, and it was always an honour you held deep in your heart whenever you were invited.
you sat on a table with all of your friends. jungkook sat behind you and jimin to your right, the circular table wide and chatty, laughing with one another and clapping your hands excitedly when namjoon made his toast.
ever since that night with jungkook, things had changed. not in a bad way, oh contraire - his lips would often find your own in a sweet embrace, fleeting but gentle, his hands wandering inappropriately in their usual fashion but now it held more weight. you’d lost count on how many times he’d cum inside of you, it slowly becoming an addiction for you - you couldn’t function if he wasn’t inside you in some way. it was like a switch had shifted in both of your brains and it made you realise you didn’t want to pretend anymore, you liked his attention, yearned for it, wanted more and more and more.
you hadn’t seen him for a few days which felt like a lifetime, but your exams and your part time job kept you away from him, not that this was a deterrent. he’d send you videos you know you’d giggle at, or facetime you like he typically would. it felt different, the air had changed, and you found yourself longing for something you knew you could have.
jungkook had picked you up from yejin’s apartment, some of the other guys coming with too so you could all attend together, and he could have sworn you’d stolen his breath then and there. he’d seen you dressed for parties, or even half naked, but it didn’t compare to seeing you now. elegance dripped from every inch of you, your dress from the shop he’d bought you adorned on your body and your hair pulled back in a sweet bun, wispy pieces adorning your face. he was wearing the suit you loved so much, and the both of you couldn’t help but grin at one another.
on the ride there, the both of you sat in the back of yoongi’s car. his hand was against your thigh, possessive and meaningful and you found yourself playing with his fingers almost excitedly. you liked how visibly he wanted the world to know you belonged to him. made you feel good.
walking in, you weren’t sat together for the ceremony, with jungkook being further down in the row whilst you and yejin sat separately from the boys, much to his disappointment. this proved beneficial when he realised his position allowed for direct access to you, watching you greedily as he took you in. he couldn’t help but notice how many of the groomsmen were eyeing you up, and it made him clench his teeth but he remained quiet. a problem he’d deal with later.
the bride soon walked in, a vision in white, and jungkook watched the way your eyes utterly lit up, a little gasp leaving you. his gaze was hungry, obsessive, he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to - the way your small hands were clutched by your chest as though the mere sight of the bride had hearts pooling at your stomach. you wanted to be a bride? done, he’d get you a ring first thing tomorrow.
he was being quiet tonight, and despite now being sat behind you at the table, he’d not talked to you much. you were a slight over thinker, so you were assuming it might have been the environment, maybe he was uncomfortable at weddings? he didn’t seem uptight or anything, merely contemplative, and he was still being touchy so you assumed it was about something else as opposed to you.
silly little you had no idea that jungkook was thinking of the next steps. he’d propose to you, obviously, the title of boyfriend and girlfriend was insulting to him and he’d never stoop so low than to claim you in such a way. secondly; you’d get married, and he’d buy you a big house - he was already lined up for a high paying job that he was about to start, and he was pretty comfortable considering his family’s fortune. did you want a lot of kids? lord knew jungkook would give you a hundred if that’s what you wanted, or he’d live a life solely focused on you if that’s what you preferred. he knew you well enough to know you liked children, always cooing and complaining about baby fever to him as though he wasn’t correctly equipped to heal you from it.
after a while, you simply couldn’t take it anymore, pulling at his sleeve a little, forcing him to look at you whilst everyone ate.
“you okay?” you tilted your head at him, wispy hair falling into your face.
fuck, jungkook thought. you were beauty defined.
“yeah, i’m all good.” he confirmed, taking your tugging hand and intertwining his fingers with them underneath the table. “sorry, just been lost in thought.”
“what’re you thinking about?” you asked curiously.
he peered over your features, the way your big eyes were blinking up at him as though he held the answers to the universe.
he pressed a little kiss to your hand. “about how pretty you’d be in a white dress.”
you gasped almost immediately, catching the attention of yejin and seokjin who sat beside jungkook, before they looked away. you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, chest beating hard at the insinuation of his words, gaze dropping to the way his lips quirked slightly at your reaction.
“why..” you cleared your throat. “why are you thinking about that?”
his thumb was tracing patterns against your skin, leaning closer to you for a minute. “i always think about you. feels fitting for the setting.”
your heart was beating. was he teasing you? you didn’t even need to think to know the concept of jungkook being your future husband was something akin to having heaven on earth. a man utterly, entirely obsessed with you, showering you with love and affection whilst being a six foot something adonis. the fact he was your closest, most cherished best friend since childhood only added a little cherry on top.
“shut up.” you pushed him lightly, but the dusting of pink in your cheeks was enough for anyone to notice.
soon enough, the wedding party actually began, with namjoon forcing all of you to dance and have fun, laughs being heard all around the room as you and other guests danced the night away. you knew you were lucky for having such a sweet circle of friends, all caring and uplifting, unafraid to make fools of themselves in the pursuit of joy.
you slipped away, grabbing yourself a champagne flute and heading out to the open balcony to get some air. you were having the time of your life, and despite having jungkook in your mind all of the time, it felt refreshing to be around such love whilst thinking of him. your best friend. your man.
a small smile formed on your face as you found yourself wanting to scream out loud, feeling so many happy emotions, humming a little as the nippy night air chilled the heat on your body, your exposed arms forming goosebumps.
“god, it’s loud out there.” a voice chirped to your left, making you gasp a little as you looked over.
a tallish man; blonde, green eyes. he was lanky, and resembled one of your exes. on any other occasion, you’d be ready to admit that he was undoubtedly your type, but at the minute, the only thing that could begin to occupy even one moment of your thoughts were that of big boba eyes and a bunny smile.
“you startled me.” you breathed, letting out a light laugh.
he grinned. “sorry.” he turned to you fully. “too much for you too?”
“just wanted some air. got myself a drink, so, can’t complain.”
he laughed in response with a little nod. you found yourself chatting to the stranger, finding out he was a close friend of the groom, was currently working as a lawyer, financially responsible, even had a dog. on paper, this man was the total catch and the fact he was being so openly responsive with you, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he clearly desired you.
however, you felt absolutely nothing.
sure he was attractive, but hardly anything could pull you away from the warmth jungkook provided. he felt like home. twisted, warped, dark and yet it felt safe, something you knew no one else could replicate. he’d known you since you were in pigtails, held your hand through every single thing you’d ever experienced and still stood tall. if not him, then who?
“okay, i’m just gonna ask. gotta shoot my shot, so..” the green eyed man, nate as you’d come to learn, turned to you. “are you single?”
your cheeks flushed almost instantly. you had a sneaky suspicion his interest was blooming from that angle and yet assumed the best. “oh..uh, not really.”
“that doesn’t seem like a confident no?” he tilted his head.
you bit your lip, a slight smile forming. “guess it’s complicated.”
“a girl like you shouldn’t be wasted on complicated. you deserve a clear answer.”
you peered up at him, nibbling on your lip and contemplating. “i know what i mean to him, we’re best friends…we’re more than anything i can describe, really. i don’t even know what you’d call us..i guess that’s why it feels complicated.”
nate took a swing of his drink. “what a lucky son of a bitch.”
you giggled at that, before feeling a heavy warmth against your back, thick fingers clutching the side of your hip and breath tickling the back of your neck, a single kiss being pressed against it. your brain swirled with content, recognising the touch almost instantly, as though you were tethered.
“very lucky.” jungkook all but purred into your skin, a small and almost shy smile forming at your lips.
the man beside you instantly understood this man to be the exact one you had spoken about, and the sight of you together, the way you both melted into each others touch floored him for a moment. you were right - this was the epitome of complicated. as a stranger peering in from the outside, he wasn’t sure what he’d call you. boyfriend girlfriend felt foolish, anything more would be too little, but the way you were reacting and touching one another felt fated.
he took his leave, the once disappointment that swirled in his stomach quickly replaced by an understanding - you were each other’s person. he didn’t stand a fucking chance.
“you scared him away.” you teased, whilst jungkook turned you in his arms, looking down at you with arms locked around your waist. “bad dog.”
“yeah, i guess i did.” he hummed. “been doing that with every man that comes your way for years. some slip through.”
you giggled. he wasn’t joking. not that you needed to know.
he twirled a strand of your hair. “you seem contemplative.”
“is a girl not allowed to think?”
“hm. i encourage it.” hands slowly slipped up to the small of your back. “tell me your thoughts?”
you bit your lip.
“what are we?” you asked quietly, as though afraid you’d break the peace in the quiet you shared with him.
jungkook didn’t falter, though. not that you expected him to, but you knew that it was an age long question that made most people uncomfortable. it was about time you realised that jungkook wasn’t like most people, and he hadn’t been for the past 15 years you’d known him.
he tilted his head slightly, so that your eyes would meet his directly.
“you are everything.” he simply responded. “i feel like anything i label you as is too small and it feels insulting, but i’ll take anything you give me.”
you nibbled further, nodding. “i know.” your voice came out a whisper. “i’ve always liked you to be honest. i guess i just put our friendship first because you’re my best friend, you mean so much to me.”
your admission was sweet, and he could feel it in the depths of his soul.
his finger reached up, tilting your head back gently and pressing a small kiss to your jaw. “i feel a lot more than like for you, y/n. think you’d run for the hills if you truly knew.”
“i wouldn’t.” you breathed out, pulling at his shirt, tugging. “wanna hear it. you can tell me.”
jungkook stared down at you.
“you are the only thing i ever think about.” his finger under your chin was now caressing your cheek. you were so delicate. “morning, afternoon, evening. i feel physically sick if i don’t see you, don’t touch you or talk to you. your voice alone feels healing.”
you breathed out a shaky breath of air.
“remember our pact? i don’t talk to yuna, you don’t talk to your dumb fuck ex.” you nodded.
“only reason i ever entertained her was because i couldn’t stomach the thought of him being around you, getting to hold you and kiss you. even now, i feel angry, feel sick even thinking about it ever being a reality.”
“jungkook..” you all but gasped out.
“i know it’s fucked up. i know it’s not normal, but my brain is warped. i’m obsessed with you, felt this way ever since we were kids and it’s just gotten worse and worse and worse. but i don’t care, baby. you’re it for me and i’m spending my life making sure you feel every bit of that, i don’t care if it means i have to tear this world and make a new one for you.”
your heart was beating out of your chest as you peered up at him, hands shaky and lips parted.
“you, y/n, are mine. i’m yours too.” he nodded. “so call me your boyfriend, or whatever you want, because soon enough, i’ll be standing up there with you walking down the aisle all pretty in white.”
he brought you closer.
“and even then, when you call me your husband, i’ll feel fucking sick. because it’s a cheap comparison for what i feel for you, what i wanna be for you - you’re one half of me, and i’ll never make you feel any less.”
peering into jungkook’s eyes, you saw a swirl of two things. love, undoubtedly, which swam in pools of ebony brown, curling around his iris and hugging the whites of his eyes as though it was the most natural thing on earth. behind it, bigger, stronger even, sat infatuation - deadly, all encompassing.
if you were a better woman, you’d run for the hills, recognise him as the apex predator whilst identifying yourself as his ideal prey. unfortunately for you, every line of obsession that made up jungkook’s entire being was matched within your own. you were every inch of what he was to you, you felt the exact same emotions, the same need, the same awe, the same primal want that you couldn’t explain to anyone else.
he was yours, yours alone and you’d never let him forget it.
you were both leaning in, about to kiss, reaching a new high and understanding when your name was called out from inside the building. within seconds, it seemed you were pulled away out onto the dance floor where the bride was ready to toss her bouquet, your figure hidden amongst the other excited women around you.
you turned, your intention to simply watch as red petals flew in the air, cascading through the crowd and landing gently within your hands, brushing your fingers gently until they found a home in your embrace.
jungkook watched from the balcony, small smirk forming as he too clapped alongside everyone else in the room.
figures, you thought, catching his gaze as you inhaled the scent of the fresh roses. even luck knew where you belonged. captured tightly against harsh thorns, possessive and rough - no way out with no will to find one.
jungkook has always been your forbidden fantasy — the one man you could never have. unbeknownst to you, he yearned for you just as badly, fighting every urge and dark desire because you were his son's girlfriend. until that one night, heartbroken after being cheated on, you run into his warm safe arms and every rule breaks. what happens when the best raw passionate night of your life turns into the sweetest revenge and the beginning of something new?
⁽ PAIRING ₎ ex-boyfriend's father!jungkook x f.reader
⁽ GENRE ₎ forbidden love, dark romance, age gap, yearning and pining, long term mutual secret attraction, angst & drama, fluff, smut
⁽ WARNINGS ₎ 18+, explicit smut, minors dni, reader is 23 & jungkook is 41 (18 years age gap), cheating and infidelity (by the boyfriend), revenge and heartbreak, sexual fantasies and masturbation, alcohol consumption and smoking, sensual dancing, angry love confessions, arguments, mirror sex, multiple sex scenes and orgasms, different positions, rough sex, dirty talk and degradation, praise kink, size kink, power imbalance, semi public sex, creampie and breeding kink, oral sex (f. receiving), breast and nipple play, face sitting, clit play, fingering, cum eating, overstimulation, oral sex (m. receiving), blowjob, throat bulging, hair fisting, cum on tits, body worship, manhandling, cum stuffing and cock warming, jungkook teaches his son a good lesson, more tags to be added... (each part will contain their individual warnings)
⁽ NOTE ₎ i'm so excited to share this fic with y'all! it's something different and unlike anything i've tried before so i really hope you'll enjoy it. it'll most likely be a three-shot and i wanted to share a little teaser, let me know your thoughts sweet darlings, i love you bunch <33
⁽ TAGLIST ₎ [ OPEN .ᐟ ]
➥ 『 MASTERLIST | READ ON WATTPAD 』
“ah... ah… ah…”
the slap of wet skin on skin was all that was ringing in your ears along with jungkook's low manly groans as he fucked you deep and hard from behind on the bed.
the very bed that you once shared with his son.
your dress was bunched around your waist, panties long gone and his big hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise.
“fuckk you feel even better than i imagined.”
he growled against your ear, thrusting hard, one hand sliding up to squeeze your breast.
“so tight for me baby, been waiting forever for this pussy.”
you moaned loudly pushing back against him, lost in the feeling of his huge cock stretching you, you could barely breathe and it felt like he was inside your stomach.
“jungkook oh god y-yes.. harder...”
that's when the door suddenly flew open.
your ex, his son stood there frozen, eyes wide with shock, phone still in his hand like he'd been about to call you once again.
“what the actual fuck?!”
jungkook didn't stop, not even for a second, he just smirked, hips snapping forward again so hard that you squealed not being able to stay still.
his one hand stayed on your hip while the other tangled in your hair, tilting your head up so his son could see your tear streaked face twisted in pleasure.
“surprise.” jungkook said casually yet roughly.
“took you long enough to show up.”
“dad what the hell are you doing with her?!”
he yelled, his face turning red with rage and disbelief.
the embarrassment made you want to pull away for a bit but jungkook held you firmly in place, starting to pound into you now with perfect rhythm and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your pussy clenching hard.
“what does it look like i'm doing?”
jungkook chuckled darkly, not missing a beat, he leaned down, biting your shoulder lightly before looking back at his son.
“i'm fucking the girl you were stupid enough to cheat on.. she came to me crying about your sorry ass, figured i'd show her what a real man feels like.”
his son took a step forward, fists clenching, not even registering the words properly.
“get the fuck off her! that's my girlfriend!”
“was.” jungkook corrected.
his pace picks up again while you whined helplessly, the thrill of being watched while being owned by the man that you've always wanted made you even hornier and wetter.
the sick twisted part of you loved that jungkook was taking his revenge so sweetly.
“jungkook...”
you gasped, shame no longer left in you as your back arched more for him.
he leaned down and pressed his chest to your back, placing open mouthed kisses almost lovingly against your shoulder blades.
“shhh baby, let him hear how loud you get for daddy.”
his son looked like he might just hit someone but was not being able to do anything about it, clearly intimidated by his father like he always was.
“you're sick, both of you.”
jungkook laughed low, enjoying it a little too much.
“sick? nahh this is payback.”
jungkook glares, his jaw clenched, tongue poking the inside of his cheek hotly.
“for every time you lied to her, every time you made her cry… i'm making it right. you think you deserve her huh?”
you cried out from his words and also when the tip of his cock nudges on that spot inside you that makes your brain reduce to a mush, your hand scratching against the bed sheets, fisting it and pulling it until it bunches around you.
you both felt absolutely crazy and wild for each other.
“hahhngh jungkook!”
“that's it.” he praised, eyes locked on his son the whole time.
“tell him whose cock you're creaming on baby, loud enough for him to hear.”
your voice breaks, your body trembling uncontrollably.
a/n: this is my first jk fic SO BE NICE M’KAY? . . . now pls enjoy
synopsis: out of impulse, jungkook gets his tongue pierced, but totally forgot the part that for the next two weeks he’s not allowed to kiss his adorable, oh so desirable gf.
wc: 15.8k (mind you this was supposed to be 5k at the MOST . . .)
cw include: black fem!reader was in mind when written but picture her anyway you’d like <3, literally porn with a smidge of plot, unprotected sex, needy!reader, even needier!jungkook, lots of nasty kisses, tongue sucking, creampie, squirting, choking, oral both receiving, some biting, so much dirty talk omg, jungkook is a major perv, he uses her panties to masturbate and does . . . other things with them, he eats it through her panties, slow & rough sex, prone bone position, riding, sex in front of a mirror, backshots, spit, body worship, jungkook is so in love . . . whew i think that’s it—oh wait, he eats in while they shower together!
“are you nervous, honey?”
“mmhm?”
the corner your lips lifted into a giggle, gold bracelets on your wrists jangling as you reached over to squeeze your spaced out boyfriends firm bicep. this caught his attention, his doe-like, brown eyes flicking over to meet yours.
“ah, sorry. my mind was elsewhere. what did you say, baby?” jungkook grinned, leaning over until his shoulder was bumping into yours. you wanted to ask him what had his mind so preoccupied, but knowing jungkook, he’d most likely already forgotten.
you let out a low hum, slyly maneuvering your fingers into his lap to interlock with his. “i asked if you were nervous. s’probably gonna hurt getting your tongue pierced.”
jungkook shrugged, “mm . . . not really. if i can handle getting my lip—or even my eyebrow pierced, i think i can handle this. pain will only last a couple days anyway, yeah?”
you were about to answer, but suddenly a voice to your left caught both of your attention.
a bulky man covered in tattoos, and multiple facial piercings approached the two of you, a friendly smile on his face. “which one of you is here for a tongue piercing?”
jungkook gripped your hand softly and stood, bringing you up with him. “that would be me, she’s just here for support,” he gave your hand a tender squeeze, not bothered by the pda he was showing you in the slightest.
that was one of the things you loved about jungkook.
he was never afraid to show his affection for you no matter who happened to be in the room. friends, colleagues, strangers—it didn’t matter who it was. jungkook was still gonna kiss, touch, and hold you to his hearts content. and who were you to even complain about such a thing?
so he held your hand the entire time.
he held your hand while the piercer perfected the placement, while he rinsed his mouth out with a minty mouthwash, and once the needle finally went through his tongue, he held on even tighter.
he preened at your praise, his heart rate increasing tenfold when you whispered a sweet, ‘you’re doing so good, babe!’
jungkook winced as the piercer screwed in the tiny, silver balls on the bar, but you just squeezed his hand in reassurance. before he knew it, he was finished.
“how do you like it? placement okay and everything?” the man had asked, and with three slow blinks, jungkook nodded. the feeling of it in his mouth was foreign, but that was to be expected, and as for the way it looked? he loved it.
“s’great. thank you, thank you so much!”
you watched in complete adoration as your boyfriend admired his fresh piercing in the handheld mirror he was given. those big, brown boba eyes of his were so wide in awe you were sure they’d pop out if his skull. he was too cute.
“here, rinse your mouth with this again,” the piercer instructed jungkook, handing him another small cup of mouthwash. as jungkook swished the liquid in his mouth the man went over a few, simple instructions on how to properly care for the piercing.
“i would recommend soft foods the next couple of days, nothing too spicy or else it’ll get irritated, and this’ll probably be the hardest rule to follow but absolutely no kissing. swapping spit with someone, even your girlfriend, is the quickest way for it to get infected and reject, but other than that you should be good, man.”
jungkooks lips parted then shut. fuck.
the thought of not being able to kiss you whenever and wherever he wanted hadn’t crossed his mind. not even once. fuck. fuck. fuck.
“how—um, h-how long am i gonna have to do all that for?” and as soon as the words ‘ten to fifteen days’ left the piercers mouth, you could see jungkooks shoulders visibly deflate.
how will he ever go over a week without kissing your soft, pretty lips? your cherry gloss was like heroine to him. he loved swiping it off with his tongue, and letting the subtle cherry taste coat his tastebuds. and not to boast, but jungkook was the biggest munch he knew! how on gods green earth is supposed to go a whole fifteen days without tasting your cu—!
“hey, you alright? feeling lightheaded?”
jungkook blinked rapidly, and with a low hum he shook his head no.
“don’t know how i’m gonna go so long without kissing her . . . or eating spicy foods,” he chuckled, throwing his his back so dramatically you didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff.
“please excuse him. now pay this poor man so we can go get you some ice chips for your tongue,” you smirked, linking your arm around his muscular one. he glanced down at you, and fuck. he already wanted to give you a smooch.
you looked so cute in your pink, oversized sweater and miniskirt. not to mention you were trying out a new blush and lip combo that just made you look so sweet, he could’ve ruined you right then and there.
“why don’t you go hangout over there while i pay him, hm? maybe one of those pieces you see will inspire your next tattoo” he spoke lowly in your ear, giving your side a soft squeeze before sending you on your way.
as jungkook talked to the man about his form of payment, you stood to the side, wrapped up in your own little world. you nibbled on your bottom lip, manicured fingers playing with the hem of your skirt as you thought about how much of a pain in the ass jungkook will be for the next two weeks.
your sweet bunny of a boyfriend required physical touch on a daily basis, so to take out such a key part of it left both of you feeling less than thrilled. at least you had a tad of self control, jungkook on the other hand . . . need i say more?
he was the most impulsive person you’ve ever met, not to mention the neediest boy in the fucking world. underneath the leather jackets, tattoos, and piercings—jungkook was as soft as the strawberry crème cakes you made him on a daily when it came to you.
a hand squeezing your hip broke you out of your thoughts, “you ready to go, sugar?”
when you nodded, jungkook laced his tatted fingers with yours, bidding everyone in the shop a farewell before leading you out the exit and to his car.
it was a beautiful day out; a cool seventy eight degrees and the sun shone brightly above you. a perfect day for running errands and a late lunch!!
a little squeal slipped past your lips when jungkook lightly pushed you against the side of his car, his front pushing ever so softly against yours. “so what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day, hm?” he spoke softly, encasing your hips in his large hands.
you placed your hands on his hard stomach, blindly tracing the ridges of his abs over his shirt. he was so manly . . so masculine . . . and so all yours.
“well . . .” your voice trailed off, head innocently cocking to the side, “i wanna go to t.j. maxx, and get that hello kitty vanity chair. i also wanna head to that herb store and get more raspberry leaf—if i run out before my period comes i’m a goner!”
jungkook’s smile only faltered slightly at the mention of your awful period cramps. sometimes during that time of the month for you, he’d find you in your shared bathroom, head tucked between your knees as your body racked with sobs. he never minds it truly, but it shatters his heart every time he kisses those little tears streaming down your puffy cheeks away.
he tenderly rubbed your lower belly, forehead knocking against your gently as he nodded. “mm, don’t worry. we’ll get your herbs n’ your chair. maybe something to eat too?”
he was absolutely speaking your language.
“yes, that sounds perfect,” you grinned, scratching lightly at the hairs on the nape of his neck. jungkook practically purred at the contact, damn near forgetting you were out in the open. not that he really cared.
he wanted to swoop in for a kiss. just a tiny, little kiss. but the moment his head ducked down, his lips were met with the smooth skin of your palm.
he frowned, a noise of disapproval rumbling in his chest that was soon hushed by little kisses on his jaw. the feeling of your lips running over his hot skin had him shivering, brain nearly short circuiting.
you looked up at him through your freshly done lashes, “m’sorry for doin’ that, but you heard that man in there! no kisses for kookie for at least ten days.”
jungkook wanted to just collapse to his knees, and cry, and be as dramatic as possible—but chairs nodded to be bought, and herbs needed to be collected so he’d have to save the dramatics for another time.
he let out a small puff of air from his cheeks, his tongue already starting to sting from swelling, “you’re right. you’re always right, my smart girl.” he squeezed your sides gently, and nudged his nose against yours, “let’s go get that chair.”
after a short trip, and lots of lingering touches later, your chair and raspberry leaf were secured, and so was your hunger. on the way back home jungkook had made a surprise stop at your favorite taco spot—a small truck ran by two older women who absolutely adored the two of you.
the way home was pretty quiet. while you bashed on your three carne asada tacos with extra lime and salsa, jungkook casually sipped on a small horchata, the cool liquid bringing some relief to his sore tongue.
“it’ll always shock me how you make no mess,” he chuckled, putting his car in park. you dabbed the corners of your lips with a napkin, and did a quick check in the mirror to make sure no cilantro was in your teeth before giving him a small smile. “only because i know i’ll get an earful from you if i do.”
and right you were!! jungkooks mercedes amg was his pride and joy (right after you).
“need me to carry anything, honey?” you hummed, watching as jungkook balanced your bags and the small box containing the parts to your new vanity chair in his arms. he, of course, shook his head no, and instead gave you the job of unlocking the door.
before you even set your purse down, jungkook was already kicking his shoes off and ripping at the box, an obnoxious tearing sound echoing throughout your apartment. building furniture was a random favorite hobby of his, and he always looked damn good doing it.
“lemme get these outside clothes off,” you muttered, using your socks as little skates to slide into your shared room, little giggles slipping past your lips as you did so.
“you’re going to bust your behind one of these days if you keep doing that. hardwood floors hurt y’know!” jungkook called out to you, his boyfriend voice turned all the way on.
“yeah, yeah, whatever. are you gonna need your tools?” you called back, slipping off your skirt and sweater. your bra was the next thing to go, and after little to no thought, you settled on wearing one of jungkooks t-shirts.
the fabric smelt just like him. a citrusy, vanilla scent that made you sleepy every time you smelt it for too long. it also made your cunt feel tingly, but due to certain circumstances, you decided to keep your horniness at bay for jungkooks sake.
you’d be lying if the urge to kiss him hasn’t hit you once or twice, but who could blame you? your boyfriend had the most kissable lips ever, and the two lip rings that adorned the left side made you want them against yours even more!
but unfortunately it’d have to wait.
you brought the collar of his shirt to your nose one last time, inhaling deeply before getting on your knees and shimmying over to jungkooks side of the bed. now he did say which tools he needed, but you weren’t exactly a handy woman, so you just decided to bring his entire tool box.
when he heard the obnoxious sound of metal clanking together his eyes darted to the direction of the sound. his lips broke into a smirk when he saw you carrying his entire toolbox. you were so precious without even having to try.
you wearing little to nothing around your place wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. in fact, you did it so much that jungkook almost found it odd whenever he would come home from work and see you still fully clothed.
yes, you prancing around in just your panties and a top all the time was pretty distracting, but it was the best distraction a man could ever ask for. you have the prettiest, phattest pussy he’s ever seen, and she looks even more enticing hidden behind the soft cotton of your panties.
with a small grunt you set the metal box down, “here ya go.”
when your hands found purchase on your hips, your his shirt rose up, giving him a nice, close up view of your panty clad cunt. the pair you had on today were hot pink, with ‘juicy’ written in black cursive right on the part where your mound was.
‘i’ll fuckin’ say’ he thought to himself, teeth tugging on his lip ring to surpress the urge to pull you closer to him. it didn’t help. like at all, because three seconds later jungkook was pulling you two steps closer by the backs of your thighs.
your nose scrunched up, a giggling bubbling in your chest. “you know . . . you could at least try to be a little more discreet with your staring.”
jungkook groaned at your words, nosing at the inside of your petal soft thigh. “nothing fun about being discreet, babe,” he sighed giving your thigh a light peck.
you were out of his grasp a millisecond later, your head cocking back and forth. “watch those lips mister!”
“it was just a peck, it won’t do any harm, babe!” he pleaded, pulling you closer. his ring clad fingers held rather tightly onto your flesh, preventing you from moving an inch.
“mm, sure, but a peck with you always leads to something more,” you spoke softly, ruffling his jet black locs.
a drag of air got caught in your throat when his nose nudged against your cunt. “h-hey, that’s enough, mister! get back to work before i thump you.”
and with that, jungkook released his hold on your body. his fingers lingered for a second or two before letting go completely, his lips jutting into his signature pout.
“mean . . . very mean,” he muttered, turning his back to you to give your unbuilt chair his undivided attention. he knew he was being unfair, but shit, this entire thing this was unfair!!
it was dumb to say aloud, but truly, the thought of not being able to kiss you or any part of you didn’t cross his mind in the thought process for getting his tongue pierced—not even once! it was a cruel, sick, joke that was one hundred percent preventable, and now you both had to deal with it :(
you let out a little puff of air from your cheeks, and knelt behind your pouting boyfriend. “you say mean . . . i say responsible,” you whispered in his ear, kissing the shell of it before placing another soft kiss on his neck.
“don’t be sad, ‘kay? it’ll go by before you know it.” you knew your man, and you knew him well. you knew if he was challenged to do something, he’d do it and he’d do it well.
he whined at your words, thick brows scrunching together, “it can’t go by fast enoughhhh.”
seven hours later . . . .
jungkook felt as if he was going to combust into a million pieces. the urge to have his lips on yours didn’t curve in the slightest, and to make things even more difficult, he was now sporting a painful boner.
you were sound asleep on his chest, little snores leaving your slightly parted lips every so often. you were still wearing what you had on earlier, the only difference being a lavender colored, silk scarf wrapped securely around your head.
‘hells paradise’ played quietly on the tv, and the ac was on full blast giving jungkook the perfect background noise to fall asleep to. but he couldn’t. his mind was racing.
his legs felt stiff, begging to be stretched, but he knew if he moved even a muscle, you’d stir in your sleep and switch positions. when he held you like this he could feel the heat from your pussy right against his thigh, and as sick it sounded it made him feel so at ease.
with the way his tongue throbbed in pain, jungkook could use all the comfort he could get.
he slowly craned his neck to look down at your sleeping form, and fuck. you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. even when you were deep in sleep.
the semi-bright glow from the tv gave him just enough light to see that your eyes were moving every so often. he wondered to himself what you could possibly be dreaming about. selfishly enough, he hoped it was him.
“aish . . .” he muttered, shifting his leg the tiniest bit. you made a small noise in your sleep, and this had jungkook freezing in his spot. his heart pounded against his ribcage as you nuzzled closer into his side. and then you moved again . . . and again . . . and again, until jungkook was questioning if you were really asleep or not.
the dull throb against his thigh had his pierced brow twitching.
should he wake you? should he leave you be? should he just cut his losses and jerk off in the bathroom?
a gentle squeeze pulled jungkook out of his thoughts, and when he looked down, he was met with the sight of his sleepy girlfriends’ scrunched up face.
“mm, kook . .”
your voice was whiny, and laced with sleep. if only he was able to kiss away that tiny furrow between your brows.
“what’s up, baby?” he spoke softly, pulling your body impossibly closer to his. you breathed out a small hum when he cupped your ass, gentle fingers gripping the soft flesh.
goosebumps rose on the dark haired mans skin when you nuzzled your face in his neck. your lips brushed against the sensitive spot below his ear, “can’t fall back asleep . . . need your help, please.”
and there it was.
jungkooks hands shook as they ran up and down your body, squeezing and fondling any part of you that he could. “y-yeah? what do you need me to do for you, baby—i know you’re sleepy, but try to use your words for me.”
he heard a small sniffle and then, “fuck me back t’sleep, kook. pleaseee.” your hand lazily rubbed along the length of his covered cock, saliva pooling on your tongue at the thought of having him inside you.
without a second thought, jungkook maneuvered your body on top of his with ease. his dick was pressed snugly against your pussy—hot, hard, and ready to put you tf back to sleep!
jungkook’s breath fanned over your face, still minty from when he brushed his teeth. “really wish i could kiss you right now,” he grunted, lifting your body up just enough to pull his briefs down.
“i-i wish you could kiss me too,” you whined, back arching when he rubbed his leaking tip over your panties.
he didn’t take your panties off, instead he just pulled them to the side with two fingers, and slipped his cock right between your soaked folds. wet was an understatement—you were drenched. small pearls of your essence began to drip down his cock, already creating a mess between your bodies.
“ngh—put it in please,” you sniffled, bottom half slowly moving up and down the length of his dick. jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, tatted hand gripping the base of his cock before slowly pushing the tip through that tight ring of muscle that greeted him so sweetly every time.
his free hand cupped the back of your neck, smushing your forehead against his. “so wet, princess. slipped right in like you were made for me,” he groaned, planting his feet in the bed to push more of his cock into your tight heat.
with a sloppy kiss to the corner of his lips you whispered, “because i was.” this nearly killed jungkook of course, his hips stuttering the tiniest bit.
he throbbed all around you. every protruding vein caressed your sensitive walls, and it didn’t make things better when his spongy tip started knocking obnoxiously against that spot deep inside you that had your toes curling.
you mewled at the stretch, grabbing onto his shoulders as you found your place in his neck once again. every moan, whine, every hitch of your breath—he heard it all, and it was driving him fucking nuts.
he wanted to talk you through it, whisper dirty praises and promises in your ear, but alas his tongue was just too fucking sore. he knew you liked him to be vocal, so he settled with matching your volume in moans.
jungkook’s hands roamed all along the expanse of your back. your skin was hot to the touch, his cold hands bringing you some sweet relief.
you wanted to melt into him. let your minds and bodies become one forever, but for now this would have to do.
“lemme take this off,” you muttered, sitting up to remove his shirt from your trembling from. the new angle had his cock hitting deeper, and this had you tightening up, forcing a hiss from the man below you.
he wasted no time fondling your breasts, a whine bubbling in his throat from lack of them in his mouth. you always made the prettiest noises when he sucked on your nipples. they were always so sensitive—even as he softly ran his thumbs over them.
“k-kook—”
“i know—shit, i know.” his voice was raspy from lack of speaking. his throat felt so dry, like someone had stuffed cotton down it. jungkook had a thirst, but not for a beverage of any kind.
as you began a steady rhythm moving back and forth, jungkook thumbed at your swollen clit. his jaw clenched, a groan rumbling in his chest at how wet you actually were.
sucking your clit into his mouth would definitely fix him right now—why, oh why did he have to get this stupid fucking piercing.
your hips stuttered slightly when he pulled his thumb away, and without a second thought he brought the digit to your lips. it wasn’t hard to find his eyes in the darkness of the room, and once you did you sucked the digit between your lips, humming at the sweet, yet tart taste that coated your tongue.
all your nerve endings felt as if they have been set ablaze. you could feel everything. you didn’t know what it was, but these intimate moments with jungkook always made you so beside yourself.
“what’s it taste like, hm? describe it for me,” he rasped out, pressing down lightly on your tongue before removing his thumb entirely.
your movements halted, but not for long, because jungkook’s hands were on your hips seconds later, resuming your slow paced grinding. “don’t make me say it, babe,” you whimpered, feeling your cheeks get hotter than they already were.
he couldn’t help but chuckle. you were still so bashful—even when getting split open by his thick cock.
it was silent for a few beats, and then without warning, jungkook cupped the back of your neck and pulled you back down to his level. his feet planted into the bed, and with that he began a slow, steady rhythm of thrusts.
“was is it sweet? i bet it was, you’re always so fuckin’—ngh, sweet,” he panted against your lips, making you whine veryyyy loudly.
your cunt started to became rather noisy, an obscene squelching sound becoming louder and louder as the minutes went by. but it wasn’t quite loud enough for your boyfriend.
your once warm body was suddenly met with a chill, goosebumps rising over the entire expense of your back. jungkook had also taken this as an opportunity to go faster—harder. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed noisily throughout the room.
“love that sound,” he grunted, tucking your face in the warmth of his neck to shush your whines. between being overly drowsy, and jungkook fucking you like his own personal toy, your brain had turned into a complete pile of mush.
not a sentence, nor thought could be formed in your head. the only thing you could even think to do was kiss him—well kiss his neck specifically since his lips were off limits.
your lips latched onto the spot below his ear, sucking feverishly until he was squeezing the back of your neck in sensitivity.
“y-yeah, mhmm. keep kissing me. i need it,” he whispered the last part directly in your ear while also delivering a particularly harsh thrust. you made a noise between a sob and a gasp, and for a second you could’ve sworn you saw white.
both of his hands gripped your ass cheeks, spreading them only slightly so he was able to fuck you deeper.
a never ending chorus of ‘ah ah ah’s left your drooly lips, and soon, it wasn’t long before you were whining in jungkook’s ear about how you were about to cum.
you lifted your head slightly, “i’m *pant* i-i’m—!”
jungkook shoved your face back in his neck, the pace of his thrusts increasing to a speed so fast it had you seeing spots.
“i know, baby. i know. fucking do it.”
your ears started to ring, and your back arched, a beautiful symphony of moans following seconds later. jungkook fucked you through it all with one hand still securely on the back of your neck, and the other now grabbing onto your hip so roughly you were sure to feel it in the morning.
his toes curled when he felt you gush around him. your pussy was practically suffocating his cock, convulsing around him so harshly it was almost difficult to continue moving.
you heard a few curses in korean, follow by one more hard thrust before a sudden warmth flooded your lower belly. jungkook ground into you from below, milking his orgasm for all it was worth—which was a lot.
without even thinking he pressed a quick peck to your shoulder, his lips lingering for a few seconds before pulling away.
“ . . . you okay? was i good?” he whispered into your ear, but the only response he was met with was a small snore. your body was completely limp, occasionally twitching in his arms.
jungkook hummed contently, nosing at your cheek. his hands ran slowly up and down your back, tracing random hearts and shapes as he did so.
he was gonna have to wake you up soon so you could pee, but for now that would wait. he just wanted to bask in this moment for as long as he could.
it’s been nine days since then, and you two have been fucking like rabbits everrrr since.
morning, afternoon, midday, the middle of the night—it didn’t matter what time it was. if jungkook was in the mood, he had to have you.
the urge to kiss you hasn’t lessened. in fact it only grew stronger and more unbearable as the days went by. his cock leaked pathetically with pre every time he thought about your lips against his. he craved the feeling of biting into the plushness of your bottom lip, and tugging just enough to have you whimpering.
when his tongue became less swole the first thing he tried to do was kiss you, only to be met with the petal soft skin of your cheek. ‘it’s only been three days, kook!’ you had scolded him, breaking his heart for what felt like the hundredth time that week.
you being the sweet, amazing girlfriend you were, fucked the sadness out of him every single time though hehe.
the situation always ended up the same way. jungkook would be underneath you, brown eyes the size of saucers while you rode him into a blissful oblivion. you rewarded his restraint to kiss you with sloppy pecks across his neck and throat, your tongue tracing random shapes and lines into the sweaty skin.
he felt like a fucking teenager with the way he was so quick to jump your bones.
it was now day ten, and jungkook has surely lost his mind by now.
he was currently home alone, scrolling mindlessly on his phone as he waited to hear the familiar click! of the door unlocking.
you weren’t home, obviously. you had picked up an extra shift at the bakery you worked at, leaving jungkook all by his lonesome.
you’d been gone for seven whole hours, and to make things worse, you only texted kookie a handful of times before it was silence on your end.
he thought about going up there to visit you—maybe even partake in a sweet treat, but that would only end up doing him more harm than good. so here he sat, scrolling through your social medias for the umpteenth time.
fuck, you were so pretty. how did he end up with such a gorgeous girlfriend, hm? how did he manage to have the literal embodiment of perfection land in his lap?
he usually asked himself these questions when he was missing you really bad, or while he watched you sleep. is that creepy? eh, maybe, but who even really cares?
his eyes flicked up to the corner of the screen reading the time. it was fifteen minutes till five, and he still hadn’t heard from you since you last texted at noon.
“hope she isn’t working herself too hard . . .” he sighed, slumping back against the plush, gray couch cushions.
you were a bit of a perfectionist, and although he admired how much time and effort you put into your craft, he didn’t particularly care for how hard you were on yourself if the outcome wasn’t exactly what you wanted.
when you told jungkook baking was a ‘fun hobby’ of yours, he expected you to laugh off your minuscule mistakes, and enjoy the sweet treat. boy was he fucking wrong.
* cue super cute flashback *
“one more, one more!” jungkook chuckled, his tatted fingers gripping onto your chin to bring you in for another slow, nasty kiss. before you could even protest, his lips were against yours—soft and swollen from your previous kisses.
you giggled against his lips, a small gasp getting caught in your throat when he grabbed a handful of your ass over your pajama shorts. “mm, babe. i gotta get the cookies out before they burn,” you hummed, cunt clenching around nothing when he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth.
the sweet smell of brown sugar and chocolate wafted into your nose, and you knew soon enough the enticing smell would soon turn burnt and bitter if you didn’t act quickly.
jungkook gave you one last peck before releasing his grip on you, a lazy smirk lifting at the corner of his lips. “alright, alright. i’ll leave you alone . . . for now. now lets go check on those cookies,” he grinned, showcasing those oh so cute dimples that made you swoon every time you saw them.
he let you lead the way to the kitchen— why you ask? so he could fondle and smack your ass to his hearts content. you didn’t bother to say anything, allowing the giggling man behind you to continue his antics.
when you opened the oven your lips pulled into a thin line, already dissatisfied with the slightly burnt smell that greeted you.
while you were screaming in your mind twenty seven different ways, jungkook was behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for you to pull the tray out. he was so blissfully unaware of how homicidal you were over these damn brown butter cookies.
he leant over the pan, taking a deep inhale of the sweet treat. “shit, these look incredible, baby,” he muttered, mouth now beginning to water.
all you could do was sigh, your brows pulling together in a deep frown. jungkook noticed this and it had the cogs in his brain turning. what could possibly be so wrong? these were the most perfectly baked cookies he’s ever seen!
without saying a word you slowly lifted up a cookie with a thin spatula. just as you thought—they were burnt. the bottom was entirely too dark for your liking. once they cooled they were going to be hard instead of soft. this just broke your heart.
jungkook noticed the cloudy look in your eyes and stood up straight. he turned your body towards his quickly, but gently. “hey, hey, what’s wrong? why do you look like you’re about to cr—i mean, um—”
it was too late. two fat tears were already rolling down cheeks, waiting to be wiped away by jungkook.
“ugh, why would you ask me thatttt? you know i always cry when you ask me that,” you sniffled, blinking away more tears. jungkook puffed air through his cheeks, and cupped your face with both hands. this made you want to cry even more, but you managed to pull it together with a slow, but shaky breath.
you tried to look everywhere besides in front of you, but it was painfully hard to avoid your boyfriends’ intense gaze.
“why are you crying? your cookies look perfect . . . i’m sorry, but i don’t—i don’t understand,” he spoke softly, sliding his hands from your jaw to your shoulders.
your eyes flicked to the tray beside you, and then to the floor. “i’ve . . . made these cookies so many times . . but the one time i wanna make them for you, i fucking burn them. what kinda sick joke is that?”
“but baby they look perfectly fine to—”
“uhn uhn!” you grabbed one of the now cooled cookies, and showed him the dark brown bottom. “they’re not moist! they’ll be hard—inedible soon enough,” you sighed, pulling apart the cookie to reveal the steaming inside.
jungkook was completely stumped. burnt cookies were a very dark brown, blackish color, and they usually left a foul stench in the air . . . yet these were a perfect golden brown, and smelt so sweet he could’ve gotten a tooth ache. was he missing something?
“hmph, i don’t know what went wrong. maybe i cooked the butter too long? maybe they weren’t cold enough? i don’t know . . . will you try, please?” you pouted, holding one half of the cookie in front of him. without a second thought, jungkook scarfed down the entire thing, along with the other half.
the still warm chocolate chips melted on his tongue, making him hum in content. you watched with an intense glint in your eyes, waiting for any sign that he disliked the cookie.
his tongue slowly ran over his bottom lip, and without saying a word he grabbed another cookie, devouring it in only two bites. your eyes softened, tear stained cheeks now feeling extra hot from embarrassment.
“shut up . . there’s no way they’re that good,” you muttered, hiding your face in his obscenely large pecs. jungkook only chuckled, his hand coming up to pet at your hair softly.
“i think you’re being entirely too hard on yourself, no? they may not be as soft as you want them, but they’re certainly edible, babe.” his words were so sweet, and so gentle, it made you want to start crying all over again.
when you didn’t say anything he continued, “you could serve me flour on a paper plate, and i’d still eat it because it was made by you, and i’m so serious.”
when he heard you giggling into his chest it made his heart clench, but in a good way! your laugh sounded like the finest of symphonies to him, a sound he could hear on repeat for all his days to come.
“there she is, there’s my girl. no more crying, ‘kay? makes my heart hurt to see you so sad,” he spoke lowly, giving the crown of your head three gentle kisses.
your eyes slowly shut, the sound of his heartbeat making you drowsier by the minute. you could’ve fallen asleep right there, standing and all, but the sudden smell warm brown sugar had your eyes fluttering back open.
“try it,” you heard him ask, although it sounded more like a demand. your lips parted, and with a little hesitation, you took a bite of the cookie. the taste of brown butter and vanilla had you humming in delight, and this brought a smirk to jungkook’s lips.
“good, right?”
you hummed a small ‘mhm’ in response, and took another bite. “still kinda dry. they’re decent at best, and i’ll never get hired at ‘the sweet spot’ with decent cookies.”
your body went stiff when you heard jungkook let out a particularly loud sigh.
he wasn’t bothered that you were talking about working at your dream job again, no, never that. what bothered him so damn much was that you really didn’t believe your baking was good enough to get the job.
jungkook cupped your jaw firmly, forcing you to look up at him. he muttered ‘stop that’ in korean. two words that you were very familiar with (due to you being a massive brat), and like every other time it made your cunt feel tingly.
“stop what . . .” you murmured, clearly acting clueless to what he was talking about.
he breathed out a small laugh, and tongued at the inside of his cheek, already caught on to your little game. “i believe my girl is smart enough to know what i’m talking about—”
with little to no strength he lifted you by the backs of your thighs, and set you on the counter. the cold marble had goosebumps rising all over your skin, and you’d be squealing right now if his lips weren’t smushed against yours to keep you quiet.
he kissed the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, and then the shell of your ear before whispering, “but if you need me to help spell it out for you, i really don’t mind.”
jungkook could’ve popped a boner right then and there at the way your pupils blew out at his words.
that’s how you ended up on the couch, knees pushed allll the way to your shoulders while jungkook edged you with his mouth. his tongue caressed your clit for what felt like hours, and you weren’t allowed to cum, let alone even move out of his grip, until you were screaming out affirmations about how you were going to get that job at the bakery.
two days later you woke up bright and early to prepare some sample pastries for your interview, and to no ones surprise (not even your own) you got the job! that same night you rewarded jungkook with his favorite apple and brown sugar strudels, and some mean head to thank him for encouraging you so much. <3
* end of cute flashback *
when jungkook had zoned back in from reminiscing, his jeans felt five times tighter than they did before, and his hands felt clammy. he needed you. all of you.
he needed to feel the soft bud of your nipple graze his tongue as he sucked on it. he needed to feel the pressure of your thighs squeezing against his head as he devoured you like you were his last meal. and most importantly; he needed a fucking kiss god dammit!!
he could barely even remember what it felt like to suck your tongue into his mouth. shit, he could hardly even remember the taste of your cherry gloss!
damn, that lip gloss you wore always looked so pretty—especially when you would suck him off and leave remnants of it all along the base of his cock.
“aish . . .” the frustrated man huffed out, giving his cock a quick palm over his sweats. his nose twitched, much like a bunny, when a shot of pleasure rushed down his spine at the contact.
his dick throbbed, almost painfully, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would cave and help himself. he was only human after all!
before he could even process what he was doing, jungkook clicked the phone icon right above your name, and pressed the phone against his ear. as the line rung he was internally pleading for you to answer the phone. all he wanted to do was hear your voice.
suddenly he heard a click on the other line—
“hello?”
“o-oh!” jungkook sat up straight, his lips breaking into a dopey half-smile at the sound of your voice. “i didn’t expect you to answer . . . you never answered my texts—not that that’s a problem. i know you’re busy being the best pastry chef in the world.”
he could hear the smile on your face as you talked about the ups and downs of your day, and shamefully enough, it was making him harder.
god, he hated himself right now. why has this temporary ban on kisses made him to beside himself?
“an’ now i’m just hanging out in the office to take a break. i think i’m gonna head out soon, though. i’ve been so spaced out today.”
“mm, what have you been thinking about?”
jungkook didn’t mean to have that oh so familiar seductive tone in his voice, but unfortunately for him, he practically purred out the question.
there was silence, and then—
“honestly? . . . you giving me head.”
jungkook almost moaned aloud at that, but instead let out a sound that was a mix of a whine and a gasp.
this is why you were made for him, why you were his girl. you both craved each other so much. its always been an ongoing match of who’s the biggest yearner between the two of you.
“you there, babe? too crude for the workplace?”
your sweet laugh only fueled the fire in his lower belly. jungkook was so horny it was almost difficult for him to speak.
“n-no . . no, not at all. i’ve been thinking about the same thing actually. remember that day when you baked those cookies?”
he heard a small, barely audible noise that sounded a lot like a whimper. “mhm.”
with a shaky hand, jungkook pushed himself up using the armrest of the couch. everything was entirely too hot, he needed to feel some kind of relief.
“i remember how you couldn’t stop shaking when i was done. you came for, like, a whole minute. i couldn’t believe it.” as jungkook dumbly babbled about eating you out, he was also making his way to the bedroom.
the first thing that caught his attention when he walked in the room was your discarded panties from that morning. it felt like the peach colored garment was calling out to him. begging to be fucked n’ soiled by his sticky cum.
he was broken out of his thoughts when he heard the airy sound of your voice. “c’monnnn. don’t say stuff like that, or else i’ll look like a total mess in front of everyone.”
“mm, and what if i want that to happen?” he breathily chuckled, swiping your panties off the floor in one swift movement. he tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder, and pulled his sweats down mid thigh before taking a seat at the edge of your shared bed.
“i think you look pretty cute all flustered and shy. i’m sure everyone else will think so, no?” jungkooks tone was very teasing, which was funny because he was honestly one stroke away from combusting into bits.
“mmcht. it might be cute to you, but i doubt my bosses will think it is.”
“hah—yeah . . . yeah, maybe you’re right,” jungkooks head tilted back when he finally wrapped the soft fabric of your panties over his swollen cock. it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy him like you ever could, but it would have to do for now.
an attempt to stay neutral, and quiet was never even made because your man knew just how much you liked to hear him.
“k-kook, c’mon—”
“just fucking come home already, y/n. i don’t mean to rush you at all, baby, but—fuck. just—just listen,” his slurred sentenced trailed off with a moan, and suddenly your ears were met blessed with a wet shlicking sound.
“please—”
“i’m using your panties. the ones you left on the floor this morning to be—ngh, specific.”
jungkook knew he was being sooo mean, and sooo unfair, but unfortunately my mans was fresh out of self control.
“hurry up, and come home so we can ruin each other,” he rasped, letting out one last moan to break you even more.
the dark haired mans eyes fluttered shut, and the first image that popped in his head was you; stark naked, and spread out for him, ready to have your pussy eaten until you cried.
he brought your panties to his nose, and took a deep inhale, while his other hand steadily pumped the thick base of his dick. they sorta smelled of him now, but the scent of you was still overwhelmingly there.
“mm, fuck,” he panted out, poking his tongue out to take an experimental lick at the crotch part. what he was going was disgusting, humiliating, and beyond perverted, but—
“shittt. it tastes just like her.”
his ring clad fingers squeezed harshly at the tip, and when he ran his thumb over the leaky slit, he tried his absolute best to imagine it was you.
time had seemed to go by rather fast, because just as jungkook was about to edge himself for the third time, he heard the door, followed by quick footsteps. there was no point in trying to hide what he was doing because; 1. he was too horny to give a shit and 2. he actually wanted you to see him like that.
your reaction was just as he pictured in his head only moments ago—flustered and intrigued. “oh . . . you’re here. i missed you, baby. so much.”
the evidence of his confession was leaking obscenely in front of you, and all you could do was stand there with parted lips, and clenched thighs.
with a low grunt, jungkook released his firm grip on his cock. “c’mere. ‘wanna touch you.”
your bag was the first to go, the designer accessory hitting the carpet with a soft thud. it was like your feet had a mind of their own, one taking a step after the other until you were nearly in your boyfriends’ grasp.
the moment you were in reach, he was tugging you closer by your flour stained shirt, and burying his face between your covered breasts. “h-hey!” you gasped, hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. “this shirt is all dirty, honey, c’mon.”
“then take it off,” jungkook grunted below you, lifting up your shirt to finally kiss at your skin. he just didn’t give a shit anymore about the piercing rejecting, and if he kept this up, you were going to soon stop caring as well.
he kissed around the curves of your hips, making sure to give each side a cheeky little nibble, before tracing his tongue around your tummy.
“i’ll never get over how cute this is . . . suits you so well, sugar,” he spoke lowly, referring to the baby pink hello kitty jewelry that was pierced through your naval.
a purr rumbled in jungkooks chest when you scratched lightly at his scalp, murmuring a small, but sweet ‘thank you.’
“just—just lemme get these yucky clothes off, and take a shower before we get down to . . um, to business.” words that you were barely able to get out in the first place were quickly washed away, and long forgotten as jungkook suckled at your hip bone.
“you took a shower this morning, i’m sure you’re fine.”
this earned him a scoff, followed by a weak push to his shoulders. “i just worked for almost ten hours. not so sure i’m at my freshest.”
suddenly jungkooks nose was pressed against your lower tummy, “and yet you smell like sugar and . . . mm, strawberries?”
“close,” you whispered, taking his chin between your fingers. jungkook preened at the physical contact, leaning into your touch even further. his eyes widened slightly, patiently waiting for you to finish what you were saying.
“that’s cherries you’re actually smelling. i made a batch of cherry strudels before i left,” you finally spoke, scratching at his chin.
his lips parted, but you were quick to interrupt him, “i already know what you’re going to ask, and yes, there’s some in the kitchen waiting for you. ‘could never make some strudels without bringing one home for my kookie.”
fuck. you were just so sweet, and considerate, it made jungkook feel feral. his neglected cock twitched, begging for some kind of attention.
his fingers fiddled with the button to your jeans, and with those wide doe of his, he silently asked for permission to undo it. you bit your lip, hesitant at first, but after a little thought you slowly nodded.
his eyes stayed on yours, never once breaking contact as he undid the button of your jeans, the zipper soon following. “love you so much,” he whispered into your skin, slowly pulling them down.
you didn’t know what to expect during this very intense moment with your man, but what you certainly didn’t expect was for him to just start eating it through your panties!
his nose nudged against your clit as his tongue caressed the crotch area of your strawberry patterned panties. he could taste you. barely, but just enough. he could’ve passed away right then and there, and would’ve died happy, and content.
you were still standing, knees knocking together as you tried to keep yourself up. “babe, i really should freshen up f-first. h-hah, what about your piercing?”
suddenly a rush of pleasure shot down your back, making your body jolt forward. the sensation felt . . . foreign. this was odd, because jungkook has eaten you out through your panties plenty of times before.
“did you like the way that felt?” you heard the man below you speak, a cheeky smile spreading across his features. “want me to do it again? here—”
that same feeling returned, except it was more sloppy, more wet. it had your head tilting back, and if it weren’t for jungkook holding you up by the backs of your thighs, you surely would’ve collapsed.
you were absolutely speechless. your cunt was doing more of the talking than you were at this point, dripping into your panties, and creating an even bigger mess.
when you didn’t say anything, too wrapped in your own head, he spoke once more. “you like that, huh? like the way it feels on your pussy?”
your eyes fluttered rapidly, and when you peeked down, jungkook’s tongue was shallowly sticking out, giving you a nice view of the silver ball in the center. his tongue cupped your clit over your panties, slowly moving side to side.
jungkook was genuinely surprised he was keeping it together so well, and taking his time with you. before you arrived, the only thing he could think about was tearing these same panties he was kissing and licking on into two.
all you could do was watch in awe, the inside of your mind sounding like nothing but static. jungkook nipped at the inside of your thigh, regaining your attention.
“just a little taste, cutie. i can rinse with mouthwash after *kiss kiss* to make sure it doesn’t get infected.” you could practically feel your heartbeat in your clit as jungkook kissed over your clothed mound.
his fingers looped in the lacy waistband of your panties, and with a gentle tug, he pulled them down low enough just to get a peek at the fat of your pussy. he could see your clit peeking out from between your slicked folds, swollen and looking as tempting as ever.
“before you do that,” you whispered, carefully stepping out of your jeans, “i want a kiss.”
your man wasted no time pulling you into his lap, and it felt heavenly to be able to feel his dick press against your clothed pussy.
his tatted hand cupped the side of your face, “i just might die, and i’m not even kidding.”
this made you laugh, and although he was pleased to have made you smile, he was deadly serious. being denied your kisses had him nearly climbing up the walls!
“mm, you’re so dramatic—”
and that was the last thing that was said before jungkook’s lips were smushed against yours.
soft. that was the first word that popped in his mind. your lips, your skin, the little noises you made as he deepened the kiss—it was all just so soft.
you could tell he was trying to be gentle, and take his time, but it wasn’t long before his thumb was pushing down on your chin to part your lips wider.
the kiss was slow, deep, everything that he had imagined for the past ten days. feverishly, he sucked your tongue into his mouth, and the faint taste of cherry compote had him moaning into the kiss.
you could feel his piercing slide against your tongue. it had you shaking, like it was your first time kissing him all over again.
“hah—shit,” jungkook moaned, greedily kissing his way down to your neck. your skin was a bit sweaty from working so hard, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. “need to taste you now.”
you squeaked, eyes squeezing shut as he flipped you on your back with ease. his face burrowed into your neck, and while he whined apologies into your ear about the sudden roughness, his bottom half was also rutting pitifully into yours.
“oh my . . .” your lips parted in a dreamy sigh, lashes fluttering when you felt his swollen tip rub directly onto your clit. “p-please do something, kook.”
your shirt was pushed up, along with your bra, and seconds later you felt a pair of lips wrap around your left nipple. jungkook wasn’t pretty with it—he slobbered and licked all around your breast, making sure to swirl his piercing around your nipple in between licks.
“i am, baby. i am,” he gave your neglected nipple a wet kiss, “i got you, don’t worry.”
while you made quick work to rid your shirt and bra, jungkook kissed his way down your body, leaving a glistening trail behind him. when he reached your pussy, your thighs twitched making him smirk.
“you may be crying by the time i’m done with you,” he spoke softly, giving you clit one last kiss over your panties. “so i wanna apologize beforehand.”
he took his time removing your panties, his eyes zeroing in at the way your essence clung to the soaked cotton.
the second his tongue swiped between your sopping folds, he was greeted with a taste sweeter than anything you have ever baked for him. there was a slight tang that had him salivating for more, but the sweetness overpowered everything.
you knew jungkook was bound to have his dramatics turnt all the way up given the circumstances, but you definitely didn’t expect him to let out the loudest, most whiniest pornographic moan you’ve ever heard!
“babe,” you breathily giggled, combing your fingers through his hair. you tugged lightly on the strands when he sucked your swollen button into his mouth, the tip of his tongue caressing the pearl ever so gently. “p-pace yourself now, we have all the time in the world.”
jungkook hummed, but you honestly couldn’t even tell if he had heard a word you just said.
with a low grunt he pushed the backs of your knees up, and used his entire mouth to cup your pussy. his tongue slithered all between your folds before the infamous piercing finally swiped against your clit.
your stomach clenched when he did it again, and when he did it a third time, his ears were rewarded with you moaning out his name oh so sweetly.
“mm, you like that, baby? how does it feel? describe it for me,” he purred, circling his tongue around your clit. a shudder ran down your spine, and your cheeks felt as if someone placed hot coals on them.
“babe p-please—”
“do it.”
your lower half thrusted into nothing as jungkook spit directly on your clit. you could feel the saliva trickle between your folds, creating a wetter, even bigger mess between your thighs.
the center of of his tongue circled figure eights onto your clit, and you could feel the silver ball with every movement. your boyfriend was slowly, but surely, pushing you to your limit.
“it feels . . . u-um, like, different?”
“different in what way, baby? c’mon, i know that pretty head can come up with some smart words. you got the smartest mouth i know.” you could feel his smirk in your skin when he finished his sentence.
jungkook cupped your clit with his lips, and dragged his tongue all around the nub. his eyes fluttered shut at the symphony of moans that spilled past your kiss bitten lips.
the more he licked, the more your mind became a muddled mess. “kook—please slow down. i can’t thinkkk!” you whined, weakly pushing at his forehead.
your pleas only made him more feral for you, unfortunately.
the back of your head flew into the mattress when he hiked your thighs over his shoulders, bringing his face impossibly closer to your cunt. the grip he had on your thighs was kinda fucking ridiculous. you couldn’t move an inch!!
he has been hitting the gym a little harder to deal with all his pent up frustration, but jesus, you didn’t think he’d bulk up so quickly. if you were to compare your head to his biceps, you were sure they’d be bigger.
after ogling his physique from above, a pinch to your thigh brought you back to reality.
“i believe i asked you a question some time ago, and you still haven’t answered it.” his words were muffled into your thigh, and once he was done speaking he nipped at the skin just to hear you whine again.
“u-um, it feels hard . . weird, n’ makes her feel extra—ngh,” you tried to shut your thighs around his head from sensitivity, the word you were trying to say before you were interrupted, but jungkook was not letting up.
the sudden intrusion of his tongue in your clenching hole had tears springing to your eyes, but as soon as the feeling was there, it was gone just as quick.
“oh . . did you like that? maybe you should finish what you were saying, and i’ll reward you for it.” his tone was teasing, and just when you were gonna snap back at him, he was slurping obscenely at your cunt.
“i—”
with one final lick to your throbbing clit, you were cumming all over jungkooks tongue with a weak cry.
you couldn’t form a word, nor thought. all you could do was go limp, and let him have his way with you. he didn’t even mind that you came without permission—frankly, you could do anything you wanted, as long as he got to remain between your soaked thighs.
your essence coated his tongue like dribbles of honey, and he drank up every drop until your thighs were twitching against his reddened ears.
with a deep groan, jungkook pushed your knees alllll the way back, and when you wrapped your hands around your ankles to keep them in place, his chest swelled with pride.
jungkook latched on your clit, and hollowed his cheeks, earning a squeak from you. when his head shook back and forth, that’s when the tears in your eyes started free falling.
“o-ohh my,” you cried out, thighs now beginning to shake.
jungkook stopped, and only stopped, when he felt your finger tips tap repeatedly at his shoulders. something you only did when you were way past your limits.
he nosed at your clit, and gave her one more sloppy kiss before pulling away, but only by an inch. he didn’t want to stray too far from he wanted to be most.
it was silent for a few minutes; the only thing being heard were your shaky breaths, and the occasional whimper.
his lips brushed against your thigh, and when he started covering the dewy skin in kisses, you were mewling in protest. “i can’t, kook,” he heard you sniffle from above him.
“ngh—you’re lucky i’m so hard. otherwise i’d make you do it again,” he growled, slapping your pussy with his palm. your body jolted, and when you attempted to push yourself away from him, you were surprised to see you were out of his iron grip.
there you laid at the top of bed; chest heaving and legs shaking, meanwhile jungkook stayed knelt at the edge, eyeing you very intensely.
you felt your heart begin to hammer against your ribcage when he stood at his full height. the new addition to his sleeve tattoo that he had gotten a few weeks prior had him looking intimidating as ever.
he was silent as he removed his shirt, and he was still quiet as he shed his sweats and briefs. his cock was now an angry red shade, and leaking like a damn faucet. it had saliva pooling on your tongue.
“you gonna come down here, and take it? gonna come take what’s yours?” he spoke lowly, brown eyes never once leaving yours as he spit in his hand. he used that same hand to pump his twitching cock, slowly and teasingly.
your lips pushed into a pout, but you nodded, completely disregarding the throbbing between your legs. you needed him in your mouth immediately. even if it was just a taste.
his nostrils flared when you crawled over to him on all fours, and once you were finally in reach, his thumb hooked into your mouth, forcing you to look up at him.
“mm, you want some don’t you?”
his thumb was pushing down on your tongue, preventing you from speaking, so you just nodded. to drive him even crazier, you started sucking on the digit, even going as far as to moan around it.
“baby please,” your boyfriend panted above you, his cock twitching wildly at the action. he was so close to busting a nut, but he had to keep it together so you could have your fun with him.
he truly had you so spoiled.
he took the throbbing muscle in his hand once more, and slapped it against your cheek. “can’t do this for long. i’m already close enough as it is,” he warned, tracing the dribbling tip over your lips.
your eyes flicked from his cock to those big, brown boba eyes, and with a slow lick to your lips, you nodded.
when your lips wrapped around his cock, jungkooks jaw went completely slack. you gave him the same treatment he gave you; wet and messy.
thanks to copious amounts of throat training, you were able to take more than half of his cock in your mouth with ease. when the tip brushed against the back of your throat, his hips stuttered. “shitttt.”
you tried not to get carried away, but the nosies he was making were so pretty :(( you never wanted them to end.
your hand cupped his balls, and this earned you a nice, strained groan from him.
“geumanhae,” he muttered, yanking you back by your hair until only the tip remained between your lips. a shiver ran down his spine when he felt you exhale through your nose, and with one last trace around the head, you were pulling back completely.
you looked at him through your lashes, batting them softly. “stop what?”
jungkook chuckled softly, running a tatted hand through his slightly damp hair. “stop trying to make me cum. you’re not that slick.”
you fake pouted, and leant forward, messily kissing all across his thighs and lower abdomen. “what gave me away?” you spoke softly, trailing your kisses higher up his body.
when you reached his lips, jungkook gave in and gave you a single, slow kiss. “was too wrapped in it to realize anything . . . until you started moaning too. you know that shit makes me cum quick,” he chuckled, bumping his nose against yours.
“pfft, whatever. now gimme another kiss.”
jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. he squished your cheeks together, and slithered his tongue into your mouth. when you started sucking on his tongue, his chest deflated in a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding.
you both were as physically close as two people could be, but it just wasn’t enough for him. god, he just wanted to live in your skin all day, everyday.
“how do you want it?” he hummed, kissing his way down to your neck. your chest arched into his, and with a dreamy sigh you said, “on my stomach.”
you heard a small ‘mhm’ and then you were turnt around, and pushed to your tummy. your lashes fluttered weakly, trying to process jungkook’s quickness. you shimmied further up the bed to rest your head on the mountain of pillows at the top.
“oh, baby. you don’t need those,” you heard your man chuckle behind you. you felt the bed dip, and then a sudden warmth against your back. jungkook lifted your head up gently, and slid him arm underneath with ease, allowing your head to rest prettily on his bicep. “not when you can lay right here.”
his bicep was nice n’ strong, but soft enough to rest against. the perfect pillow.
you used whatever strength you had left to spread your thighs apart, you didn’t stop until your knees knocked against his muscly thighs. “please put it in.”
jungkook rubbed the fat tip of his dick between your swollen folds, his nose twitching at the intense warmth that greeted him.
“hah—i’ll try to go slow . . can’t guarantee anything after that.”
he circled his tip around your clit, relishing in the wet noises that he heard, and with a shallow inhale, he finally pushed the first couple of inches inside your pussy.
he heard you let out a tiny gasp, and your body tensed slightly at the intrusion. “d-don’t clench so hard, baby,” he panted in your ear, “s’just me. ease up.”
the warmth that you felt on your back suddenly spread all along your body. jungkook covered you like a blanket, not letting a single sliver of your skin go untouched by him.
that sweet, citrusy smell of his wafted into your nose, and that’s when you finally eased up, allowing him to push more of his cock inside your tight heat. jungkook was careful with it at first; slowly sliding in and out until he was pumping into you with ease.
your brows scrunched together in pleasure, “oh fuck.”
jungkook made a noise in his chest so low at you cursing, it sent shivers down your spine. his free hand snaked underneath your bodies, and pinched at your clit. “w-watch that fuckin’—ngh, mouth.”
“s-sorry, sorry! can you go faster, please?”
you could feel jungkooks cock twitch inside you at your request, and without saying a word, he pulled alllll the way out before slamming back inside you. he moaned into your shoulder when your ass shimmied against his front. “what’re you doing, baby?” his voice was raspy, and strained as if he’d been hurt.
“need—need all of it in me,” you slurred out, too cockdrunk to even care about how stupid his dick has made you already. all you knew in this moment was that you needed every. single. inch of him.
“don’t worry, you got it all. just focus on feeling good for me,” jungkook whispered in your ear, now starting a steady rhythm of deep thrusts. you didn’t need to be told twice, and just completely went limp, allowing him to have his way with you once more.
his rough fingers grabbed at the fat of your hips, pulling you more into him, so he could fuck you harder.
“you like that? like when i fuck you like this?” he growled, wrapping his tatted bicep around your neck. your chin was resting on his forearm, and soon enough drool was dribbling from between your plush lips and onto his skin.
the loud moan you let out was more than enough of a response for him.
being trapped in his arms like this always made you excited, and a little scared. he was just sooo much bigger compared to you, and the fact that he was able to keep you in place or manhandle into any position he wanted didn’t make the obsession any better.
“ah ah ah! o-oh my goddd,” your baby pink, sock covered feet kicked wildly against the bed when his cock hit a spongy spot particularly deep inside of you. “gon—gonna cum soon,” you wept into his skin, the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as the seconds passed.
“i-i know. i can feel it.”
and he wasn’t lying. your walls pulsed around him like crazy, warning him of your nearing orgasm. the loud squelching that happened each time he pushed into you was also a dead giveaway.
jungkooks hand snaked beneath your bodies once more, stopping at your lower tummy. he used three fingers to push down, hard.
this had your eyes crossing, your back arching into his scorching hot chest.
“j-jeonnn—!” you squealed out, limbs having a mind of their own as they twitched and shook violently underneath him.
jungkook tightened his grip around your neck, and fucked into you even harder, milking your orgasm for all it was worth.
“uhn, shit. squeezin’ me so tight, baby. who’s fucking you so good like this, huh?” he grit out, lowering his head to smush the side of his against your own. his tongue darted out to lick at a stray tear falling down your temple.
you couldn’t speak. your entire mind sounded like static, completely useless. that definitely wasn’t sitting right with your man.
“a-ah! jung—jungkook!” you sobbed out, the nerve endings on you shoulder going crazy from being bitten by him. it hurt, like a lot, but it also felt fucking amazing.
jungkooks tongue lolled out to soothe the bite, and each time his piercing swiped across the sensitive flesh you shivered. “there you go, baby. that’s all i wanted to hear.”
his heavy, brutal thrusts were no more, instead he settled for shallow grinding. god, he was so close to cumming, but he couldn’t. not now at least.
“c’mon. wanna— *huff* wanna fuck in front of the mirror.”
you whined at this, shaking your head weakly in protest. jungkook chuckled, sitting back on his knees, cock still nestled snugly inside of you. he spread your ass cheeks, teeth clamping onto his bottom lip at the sight of your cunt hugging his length so nicely.
“ugh, babe. m’so sensitive, please,” you sniffled, brows scrunching together in pleasure once more. this fucker had the audacity to flex his cock inside you, not even bothering to hide the grin on his face.
“pleaseee? i’ll be extra gentle i promise.”
you let out a small sigh when his rough hands began to massage at your lower back, careful not to press too hard.
“you’re such a liar. as soon as you have me bent over, you’ll be rough again,” you giggled, arousal starting slowly to pool in your belly once again.
you could feel the way his cock twitched, the way the thick veins wrapped around the base thrummed against your walls. fuck, you really wanted to feel the warmth of him nutting inside you.
jungkook mumbled a small apology as he slowly pulled his cock out, and wow. you had his shit glistening. streaks of your cream coated the base, and if you weren’t feeling so tired, he’d make you clean up your mess.
“turn around for me, pretty girl. wanna see your face.”
it took a minute, or three, but you finally managed to turn over with a loud huff. jungkook was still sitting back on his knees, eyes now glued to your swollen cunt.
you were so wet.
dribbles of your cum trailed down your ass cheeks and onto the bed, soaking the black cotton sheets even further. he chuckled, “guess i’m gonna have to do laundry . . . again. what a sloppy pussy you got, princess.”
he slapped your pussy once, twice, and when he did it a third time your thighs were closing in sensitivity.
“what’s wrong? thought you liked when i slapped her like that?” he tongued at the inside of his cheek, admiring how phat your pussy looked with your thighs closed the way they were.
“mm, i do. just extra sensitive right now,” you giggled hugging your knees to your chest.
jungkook slowly got off the bed, and with little to no strength, he pulled you down to the edge by your thighs. your arms reached out for him, and he was happy to lean down to let you wrap your arms around his thick neck.
“gonna let me have my way with you again, cutie?” he smirked, lifting your body off the bed. his rough hands cupped your ass, keeping you flush against his chest. the tip of his cock bumped against your cunt, and if he wasn’t so bent on taking you in front of the long mirror against the bedroom wall, you knew he’d fuck you right here, standing and all.
“you may . . . but you better be gentle. i have work tomorrow, n’ don’t wanna be sore,” your nails scratched at the nape of his neck, making him sigh contently. “you’re the best, baby.”
your legs slowly unwinded from around his waist, allowing him to set you down. you heard a giggle, and whipped your head around. “you laughin’ at me?” you smirked, getting on your knee in front of the mirror.
jungkook joined you on the floor, his lips breaking into an even bigger smile. “yes, yes, a little. your legs are shaking so much, i can’t help it.” and there he went showcasing those two, front bunny teeth that had you falling in love with him all over again every time you saw them.
you shifted towards him, your eyes sparkling like the finest of diamonds. “you’re so handsome,” you whispered, resting your hands on his thick thighs. “gimme a kiss.”
it was so nice to kiss your man again, it really was. his lips were always so soft, and plush. he did things with his tongue during kisses that you didn’t even know were possible!
“s-so obsessed with you,” jungkook moaned into your mouth, his hands gripping onto the fat of your hips so harshly, you were sure to feel it for the next couple hours.
your hand wrapped around his leaky, neglected dick, giving it a few slow pumps. jungkooks abs clenched, and his mouth parted, allowing you to suck his tongue into your mouth.
you let out a small squeak when he smacked your ass, tatted hand grabbing onto the soft, jiggly flesh afterwards. “you’re—heh, y-you’re distracting me,” he moaned softly, giving your ass another quick slap.
“m’sorry, baby. just can’t help myself, i missed your kisses so much.”
jungkook could’ve fucking cried. he was so turned on, and in love right now, the shit nearly brought him to tears.
“no, no, don’t be sorry. never be sorry, especially when it comes to men, remember?” he whined into the kiss, sloppily making his way down your jaw, and into the crook of your neck. “you’re everything—a fucking goddess. everyone should be kissing the ground you walk on.”
jungkook wasn’t even sure what he was saying at this point, too drunk on you and your body to even care what was coming out of his mouth.
your head tilted back in a moan, giving jungkook more access to your neck. “don’ say stuff like that. gonna make me an even bigger brat than i already am.”
jungkook didn’t mind that honestly. yes, you can be the biggest, poutiest brat he’s ever met, but you were his brat.
his brat to punish and reward as he see fit. his to fuck, and then take care of afterwards. his to spoil.
and spoiled you were!
after many failed relationships/situationships, jungkook became your first real boyfriend when you reached your early twenties. he took care of you financially, and loved you in ways you didn’t even know were possible, ruining you for any man or woman that could potentially come after him. (there will be no one that comes after him.)
“i don’t give a fuck about that. gotta keep you bratty so you need me all the time. all i wanna do is be needed by you, y/n.”
with one final kiss to your sweaty skin, jungkook removed his face from that oh so comfortable crook in your neck. “now turn around, and arch for me.”
you didn’t say anything. you just peered at him through your lashes, and gave him that look. the look that silently told him you wanted him to fuck you sooo good, and fill you up with his kids.
you turned around, now facing the mirror. you looked completely spent; the light eye makeup you wore to work was now streaky and smudged. the cherry gloss you were once wearing was now nothing but a memory—jungkook made sure of that.
your eyes found his in the mirror, and never left them as you got on all fours. your back arched, and that’s when jungkook was the first to break eye contact, his eyes immediately falling on your pussy.
you looked very enticing from this angle to say the least.
“remember,” you spoke softly, regaining his attention, “go slow.”
he didn’t want to go slow, like at all. his balls felt so heavy, ready to fill up your soft walls. going slow was the last thing jungkook wanted to do.
but you were his princess, his special girl, his reason for still having hope in this crazy world—so instead of fucking you into you floor like he hated you, jungkook took his time. well sorta.
he used no hands to push himself back inside your warmth, something you both very much enjoyed to watch, and slammed all the way in without warning.
you made a noise between a sob and a moan, completely taken aback by the action. your face fell into the plush carpet, your arch deepened, and jungkook could tell you were going to lay into him by the pout on your lips, but he was quick to shush your whines with a few soft kisses on the small of your back.
“so deep like this . .” your voice was light and airy, brain totally convinced that jungkook was almost in your tummy. a whine bubbled in your chest when he pulled your head up by your hair, forcing you to look at him once more.
“keep your head up. ‘wanna see your face while i fuck you.”
sigh, he had such a way with words.
a small, dopey smile formed on your lips, and he could see the hearts forming in your eyes at the demand. “i’ll keep my head up. promise.”
jungkook offered you a small smile in the mirror, and then his eyes slowly trailed to the sight of your cunt swallowing up his dick. your ass was pressed nice n’ tight against his pelvis, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the heat from your pussy against his balls.
he tongued at his lip piercing, nostrils flaring as he slowly pulled out an inch, and then pushed himself back in. he just kept repeating to himself ‘need to go slow. need to go slow. need to go slow for her.’
while jungkook was having an internal battle to keep his composure, you were having your own challenges trying to keep your head up. each time he pushed back in, he went all the way in to the hilt, letting his fat tip knock against sensitive, spongy spot deep inside you.
a pearl colored ring of cream was now forming on the base of his cock, and that just made it all the more harder to keep his slow, steady rhythm going.
“love taking you like this,” he groaned, grabbing a handful of your peachy ass. when he glanced your reflection in the mirror; your head was still surprisingly up, but your eyes were low lidded, and your teeth were clamped onto your bottom lip so hard it looked like you were on the verge of drawing blood.
thankfully you released the plump flesh to respond to him, “y-yeah, me too.”
although you couldn’t see what he did, you could certainly hear it. the sound of his thick cock splitting open your creamy folds was deafening. you were so wet that at some points, jungkook was afraid his dick would slip right out of you.
“stop clenching s-so much,” he huffed, pulling you back by the fat of your ass to fuck into you not faster, but harder.
each time he was a little more than halfway out, you would clench your cunt around his tip, like you were afraid he’d pull out, and leave you high and dry.
“sorry i just—hah! n-need you to go a little faster? please?” you tried to make it sound like a demand, but under your boyfriends’ hungry stare, it was hard to give him any kind of orders. he made you feel so helpless when he got like this.
“yeah? like this?” the pace of his hips increased slightly, but not enough to satiate you. your eyes met his in the mirror again, “um, more like this—”
you pulled your hips forward, and slammed them back. you repeated this action until jungkook began to match your pace while also maintaining how hard his cock was pumping into you.
you thought he was deep before, but this was entirely new—you could feel him in your chest! it hurt a little, but it hurt so good.
“y-yeah—mm, just like that.” your head was starting to droop, obstructing his view of your pretty, fucked out face. this simply wouldn’t do—not when you’ve reached being peak cockdrunk.
your head was yanked up by your hair, and kept in place by jungkooks hand, his grip not loosening in the slightest. “do you even know what your name is right now?” he chuckled, swatting at your ass before gripping the jiggling flesh.
you whined, lips pushing into a pout as you shook your head ‘no’. this made his smile grow wider, and his balls tighten—he needed you cum inside you now.
his hand moved from your hair to your throat, and with a gentle tug, he finally relieved you of holding yourself up by keeping you pressed tightly against his sweaty chest.
“i’m so fucking cl-ose, god. please tell me you’re close, baby,” his words came out slurred from him mouthing at your shoulder.
you wanted to answer him, please him, but you simply couldn’t find the worlds—let alone move your lips to say them. that was until jungkook threatened to pull out if you didn’t.
you knew he wasn’t bluffing by the way his hips started to slow, and you’d be damned if they came to a complete stop.
you turned your head towards him, and jungkooks lips caught yours in a nasty kiss. tongues were sucked, teeth clashed together, and while he sucked on your bottom lip, you muttered out a breathy, ‘i’m close, kook.’
“i love you so much.”
“i love you m-more.”
several bruising thrusts later, and jungkook was cumming inside you with a loud whine, his hand closing around the sides of your throat a bit tighter to keep you in place. he shoved his free hand between your dripping thighs, and with three thick fingers, he rubbed fast circles on your clit.
“o-oh shittt!” your hand wrapped around his tatted wrist tightly, fingernails digging into his heated skin in a weak attempt to stop him.
“i told you to watch your fucking mouth,” he moaned out, pushing your head into the carpet, hard. you barely noticed though, too wrapped up in your quickly approaching orgasm.
he propped one knee up, and began delivering mean strokes. “you’re kinda struggling to listen today *huff* guess i can’t blame you though,” he chuckled, briefly slowing his thrusts so he could let a glob of spit fall into the already excessively wet mess between your bodies.
his cock as completely covered in your essence and his cum, and fuck, he felt so sensitive and raw, but he just couldn’t stop. in this moment, he truly believed that fucking your creamed pussy like this was the closest he’d get to feeling nirvana.
you were completely taken aback by how rough he was being with you. you loved it. you wanted more.
just as you were about to cum you moaned out ‘oh fuck!’ so loud, you were sure your neighbors heard. this only made jungkook smush your face harder into the carpet, his body hunching almost completely over yours as he fucked you at a speed so quick it had you seeing white.
you could suddenly feel puffs of air against your ear.
“if you wanted to get fucked harder all you had to do was ask—don’t gotta disobey me to get me to do it,” you heard him growl into your ear, and that’s what had you cumming with a squeal, your back arching completely into the floor.
jungkook fucked you through the entire thing, and then some more.
“y-yeah, that’s right. get it out for me—f-fuck, you sound so hot,” he whined into your hair, his pace never once faltering. he pressed a kiss to your sweaty shoulder, and straightened up his back. he bit down roughly on his bottom lip as he admired the erotic sight before him.
“p-pull out!” you moaned out, and when your cunt clenched tightly around his cock, he knew what was coming.
jungkook pulled out completely, and a clear stream of your cum followed, soaking the carpet beneath you. your body went limp, slowly slumping into a pile of mush.
you whimpered, tears free falling down your cheeks as jungkook massaged your ass and lower back. you could hear him mumbling praises, but you were entirely too spent to respond.
“c’mon, lets get you off the floor, and into the shower,” he spoke softly, earning a whine of disapproval from you. “you’re all messy, baby. plus, you need to pee,” he said matter of factly. he never failed to wake you up out a blissful post-fuck catnap to pee.
“fine, but you’re gonna have to carry me.”
“don’t i always, pretty girl?”
fifteen minutes later, you found yourself in the shower with jungkook, steaming water cascading down your sore bodies. jungkook had wrapped your hair up for you before you got in, allowing you to enjoy this quiet time with no worries.
he held you tightly against his chest, and hummed lowly, rocking your bodies side to side. after a few moments he whispered, “you think you can stand by yourself while i wash you?”
he was always such an intimate, sweet man.
you pressed a gentle kiss to his pec and nodded. “wanna wash you too when you’re done,” you mumbled, immediately missing his warmth as you detached your arms from around his slim waist.
jungkook was quick to squirt your favorite hemp rose soap into a loofa, and with careful hands, he scrubbed your body. first was your shoulders, and then your breasts where he took his sweet time, and as he scrubbed over your tummy and lower abdomen, a certain feeling had your lower half tingling.
“turn around, baby,” he hummed, adding more soap onto the loofa. he washed over your back carefully, afraid that if he added too much pressure, you’d shatter right in front of him.
he had you turn towards him once again, and got on his knees so he could wash your legs. he was very thorough. not a an inch of skin gone untouched by him.
he was eye level with your still messy pussy, and he’d be lying if he said taking a lick or two didn’t cross his perverted mind.
he looked up at you through his dripping lashes, “could you hand me your washcloth, please? gotta, um, clean up between your thighs.”
you brushed dark, wet strands of hair out of his face, allowing you to see those oh so tempting big, brown eyes of his.
“how about . . you use your tongue?” your voice came out tiny at the end, embarrassment flooding your system. you weren’t the best at dirty talk like this freak was.
he smirked at you, “yeah? want me to clean you up?”
he kissed at the insides of your thighs, nipping at the petal soft skin every now again to hear you gasp. your back fell against the cool tiles of the shower wall when you felt his tongue ghost over your slit.
he swiftly, yet calmly lifted your leg up by the back of your knee, and set it carefully over his shoulder. his tongue flattened, and slowly licked between your folds. the taste that greeted him was nothing less than sweet.
because of his great diet, jungkooks cum was on the sweeter side, so he never minded eating it out your pussy, especially when yours was mixed with it.
“keep going s-slow like that,” you huffed out, bucking your hips up. jungkook hummed and continued slowly stroking your clit, with his tongue. when his piercing brushed over it you mewled like a kitten, brows scrunching in pleasure.
his hand caressed the thigh that was on his shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps with each touch.
“good pussy,” he mumbled into your cunt, circling your hole with his tongue before slowly pushing it inside. your stomach caved in in sensitivity, a broken moan slipping past your kiss bitten lips.
his tongue massaged your sensitive walls, curling up just enough to have your thighs twitching. his nose nudged against your clit with each movement, bringing you closer and closer to your umpteenth orgasm of the night. you’d lost count long ago.
you nearly collapsed when you felt a finger prod at your entrance, and jungkook was quick to kiss your whines away with small pecks to your clit. “just one, baby. just wanna get you to where you need to be,” he groaned into your cunt, sucking your clit between his plump lips.
your thighs started to shake, and it wasn’t love before you were creaming all over jungkooks tongue with a high whimper. he laved his tongue sloppily over your swollen button, making you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible.
he licked your pussy clean, not leaving a drop behind to be wasted. “always so sweet for me,” he grinned, kissing the mound of your pussy before standing.
“now let me actually clean you up, needy girl,” he smirked, reaching for your lilac colored washcloth. he was gentle as ever as he slide the cloth over your gooey folds. he would mumble sweet apologies anytime he brushed over your raw clit, and each apology was followed by a kiss.
he was next to be washed down, and trust you took your sweet time running the navy blue loofa over his slicked skin. when you reached his lower half, he just smirked at you the entire time.
“my eyes are up here, pretty,” he chortled, regaining your attention that was previously on his soft cock. even when he wasn’t aroused his cock still looked so enticing.
once out of the shower, jungkook did all the work; meaning he dried you off, covered your body in shea butter, and ‘dressed you’ which was just him putting one of his shirts on you with nothing underneath.
all that fucking made him work up quite the appetite, so you weren’t entirely surprised when he started complaining of a rumbling stomach.
you settled on whipping him up his favorite spicy instant ramen with a fried egg. his body was glued to yours the entire time you cooked, lips occasionally pressing a kiss to your clothed shoulder.
“mm, kook,” you giggled, craning your neck away from his eager lips, “go sit, i’m almost finished. i’ll heat up the strudels while you eat.”
“but you’re so warmmm.”
“well, you should’ve put on a shirt. not my fault you wanna walk around and flaunt your muscles,” you grinned, pouring the steaming noodles into his favorite bowl to eat ramen out of.
it was a red, ceramic bowl that you had made during a pottery class you took with your friend. you were insistent on throwing it away because, lets face it, it could’ve been prettier, but jungkook refused to toss it. he insisted it was one of the most beautiful ceramic dishes he’s ever seen. a lie, but a sweet one.
with a huff, jungkook released his hold on you, and slowly made his way to the small table in the corner of the kitchen. he sat in one of the two chairs, and propped his chin on his elbow, admiring the view of you bustling around the small kitchen.
“there, all finished,” you said to yourself, carefully placing the fried egg on top of the noodles. “here you go, baby. careful, its super hot.”
jungkook didn’t head your words, of course, and took a big bite after blowing on the steaming bowl a handful of times. “s’hot . . . but s’good,” he said with a mouthful of food, brows furrowing together almost angrily.
“i’m glad you like them. i tried to eat some, but they were entirely too spicy for me,” you snickered, placing the strudels on a baking sheet.
“oh come onnn, they can’t be that spicy to you. c’mere give them another tryyyy.” even though you knew you were gonna regret your decision to indulge in the spicy food, you didn’t mind in the slightest knowing it would make jungkook happy.
begrudgingly, you stalked over to where he was sitting, your hands glued to your sides. “come here, pretty girl. got a small bite right here for you,” he smirked, holding up his chopsticks.
you made a small noise that sounded like a whine, and bent down, taking his chopsticks between your lips. sure enough, they were too hot for your tastebuds, leaving behind a painful sting as you swallowed them.
“ack! see, kook! too spicyyyy,” you panted out, shuffling your way over to the fridge.
as you downed a glass of ice cold cranberry juice to soothe the ache in your mouth, jungkook just watched with hearts in his eyes.
Summary: Separated by an apartment wall, you and your arrogant, heavily-inked neighbour, Jeon Jungkook, are locked in a petty war. But when a confrontation sparks something between you two, the line between mutual hatred and pure obsession begins to blur.
Pairing: neighbour!jungkook x f!reader
Genre: neighbours to enemies to lovers, tattoo artist!jungkook, workaholic!y/n
Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, toxic/possessive dynamics, dom!jungkook, jealousy, rough sex, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, mirror sex (?), kinda public sex, creampie (wrap before you tap!!), orgasm denial, crying from overstimulation, choking, hair pulling, face slapping, degradation, praise, female receiving oral, jungkook is a player, usage of the pet name princess, they genuinely hate each other at first, eventual fluff!
wc: 11.9k
A/N: Guys, this one was crazy to write, and I love it!! I hope you enjoy reading!
The drywall separating apartment 4A and 4B wasn't just thin; it was practically non-existent. It was a structural joke, a cheap architectural oversight that ensured your personal life was entirely intertwined with the man living on the other side.
You knew his schedule by heart, not because you wanted to, but because you had no choice.
On Monday afternoons, it was the heavy, dragging sound of his combat boots hitting the hardwood floor around 1 PM, signalling he was finally awake. On Wednesdays, it was the low, rhythmic hum of his television playing old films until dawn. But the weekends were the worst. The weekends belonged to the bass, a deep, thumping vibration that rattled the framed prints on your living room wall, and the sharp, buzzing whir of a rotary tattoo machine.
Jeon Jungkook was a nuisance. He was also your neighbour, and you despised him.
To you, he was an arrogant, over-inked asshole who treated the apartment complex like his personal, twenty-four-hour playground. He dressed entirely in oversized black streetwear, smelled like a combination of raw tobacco and expensive leather, and also possessed a smirk that made you want to commit violence.
To him, you were a hyper-organized, stuck-up brat. He’d told you as much during your first real interaction three months ago, when you had politely, then not so politely, asked him to turn down his music at 3 AM.
"You need to unclench, Princess," he had drawled, leaning against his doorframe with a silver hoop piercing glinting in his lower lip. "Life is too short to spend it being a stuck-up brat."
Since then, it had been a war. You left precise, passive-aggressive notes on his door about tenant regulations. He responded by using those exact notes as coasters, leaving ring stains on the paper before taping them back to your door. If you glared at him in the hallway, he would just give you a lazy wave in return.
Tonight, however, was pushing you past your limit.
It was a Friday, hitting a miserable 1:45 AM. You had a gruelling performance review at work at nine o'clock that same morning, and your brain was fried. You had tried earplugs. You had tried white noise machines. You had tried burying your head beneath three different pillows.
But the noise from 4B was relentless. It wasn't the tattoo machine tonight. It was music, some R&B track that felt like it was pumping directly into your cerebral cortex, accompanied by the distinct, high-pitched moaning of a girl.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Your eyes snapped open in the dark. Your jaw clenched so hard it ached. The moaning echoed through the wall again, followed by the low rumble of Jungkook’s laugh.
That was it, that was the final straw before your sanity snapped. Throwing your blankets aside, you slid out of bed. You didn't care that you were wearing an oversized, faded college t-shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder and a pair of grey sleep shorts. You didn't care that your hair was a chaotic, unruly nest. You were driven entirely by sleep deprivation and pure, unadulterated fury.
You stormed across your dark living room, yanked your front door open, and stepped out into the chilly, fluorescent-lit hallway. You found out that the music was even louder out here. You marched over to the door and raised your fist, slamming it against the wood with a force that threatened to splinter it.
"Jungkook!" you shouted over the bass. "Open the damn door!"
For a minute or two, nothing happened. Then, the music abruptly cut out, dropping the hallway into a ringing silence. You stood there, breathing heavily, your hands curled into tight fists at your sides.
Then the lock clicked, and the wooden door swung open.
Jungkook stood there, and the sight of him only fuelled your irritation. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung very low on his hip bones. His torso was a breathtaking, intimidating canvas of dark, intricate ink that wrapped around his ribs, a sprawling pattern that climbed his left side, and a sleeve that covered every inch of his right arm down to his knuckles. A few stray strands of damp, dark hair fell over his eyes.
He looked completely unbothered, his dark eyes raking over you, scanning your messy hair, your bare legs, and the angry flush creeping up your neck.
"Well, look who it is," Jungkook murmured, his voice raspy with a sleepiness that didn't match the hour. He leaned his heavy shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest. "The midnight inspector. Am I using too much oxygen in my apartment, Y/N?"
"Turn it off," you breathed, your voice shaking with the effort to keep from screaming. "Turn the music off, Jungkook. Shut the girl up. Shut yourself up. It is almost two in the morning."
Jungkook let out a mocking chuckle, tilting his head. "It's Friday. Some people actually enjoy their lives. You should try it sometime. Might help with..." He gestured vaguely to your rigid posture. "...whatever it is you have going on."
"I have a career going on!" you snapped, taking a sharp step forward, invading his space. The scent of him, that heavy cologne, hit your senses instantly, making your stomach do a strange flip. "Some of us don't make a living by stabbing people with ink and sleeping until noon. I have an actual life to attend to tomorrow, and your complete lack of basic human decency is ruining it."
Jungkook’s smile vanished. The playful, mocking glint in his eyes hardened into something sharp. He straightened up from the doorframe, instantly towering over you. He took a step out into the hallway, forcing you to back up half a step until the heel of your foot hit the opposite wall.
"A basic lack of human decency?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped closer, completely eclipsing you in his shadow. "You've been looking down your nose at me since the day you moved in, Princess. You think because you wear a blazer and work in an office that you're better than me?"
"I know that I’m better than you," you shot back, refusing to break eye contact even as your heart began to beat frantically against your ribs. You could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest. You could see the subtle rise and fall of his collarbone, the small scar on his cheek, the absolute intensity in his big eyes.
"You're a brat," he whispered, leaning down just enough that his minty breath fanned across your forehead. "A spoiled little brat who likes to complain because she has nothing better to do. You love this. You love coming out here and picking fights with me."
"I hate you," you hissed, your nails digging into the palms of your hands. "I hate everything about you. I hate your music, I hate your stupid tattoo machine, and I hate the fact that I can hear your revolving door of guests through my wall."
Jungkook’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping down to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to your eyes. A tension dropped over the hallway, friction that had nothing to do with noise complaints and everything to do with the fact that you were both hyper-aware of how little clothing the other was wearing.
"Hey, Kook? Everything okay out there?"
A soft, feminine voice called out from inside his apartment. A pretty girl with brunette hair, wearing one of Jungkook's oversized black t-shirts, peeked her head around the corner of his entryway.
The spell broke.
Jungkook didn't look back at her. His eyes remained locked on yours, his jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. The intensity in his gaze was almost bruising, a silent, furious challenge.
"Yeah," Jungkook said, his voice rough and strained as he finally took a step back, breaking the suffocating bubble of space between you. "Everything's fine. My neighbour was just leaving."
"Turn it down," you said one last time, though the fire in your voice had died down into a shaky whisper.
Jungkook didn't answer, he just gave you one long, unreadable look, one that made your skin prickle with a chill, before backing into his apartment and shutting the door hard enough to rattle the frame. A second later, the hallway fell into absolute, dead silence. You stood against the wall for a full minute, your knees trembling slightly. You breathed in the lingering scent of his cologne, your chest was tight and your mind was racing.
You hated him. You absolutely hated him with every single bone in your body.
But as you walked back into your dark, silent apartment and crawled back into bed, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop as you thought about the girl he was with. With a furious mind, you eventually fall back asleep, hoping to never see anything like that again.
You wondered how much lack of sleep the human body could survive off of without going clinically insane.
Your performance review at nine o'clock had been an exercise in acting. You had smiled, nodded, and talked about your quarterly goals through exhaustion, all while a pounding headache stabbed at your skull. Every time your boss praised your "attention to detail," your mind flashed to a pair of unreadable eyes and a heavy tattoo sleeve illuminated by the flickering hallway light.
By the time you unlocked the main entrance to the apartment complex at 5:45 PM, you were running on pure survival instinct. Your feet ached from your stupid heels, your shoulders were tense, and all you wanted was a hot shower, a bowl of instant ramen, and to watch Love Island.
The universe, unfortunately, had other plans.
When you stepped off the elevator onto the fourth floor, your path was entirely obstructed. Right in front of your door, not 4B, but your door, 4A, were three massive, heavy-duty cardboard boxes. They were bound in rough packing tape and stamped with a bold logo.
You stopped dead in your tracks, your purse dragging against your thigh. Your eyes dropped to the shipping label.
Recipient: Jeon Jungkook / Ink & Iron Studio
Address: 402 Genevieve Lane, Apt 4B
"Are you kidding me?" you muttered to the empty hallway.
The delivery driver had carelessly put the packages at the wrong door. You looked over at door 4B. You doubted that Jungkook was even home, assuming he was out doing annoying, reckless things.
With a frustrated sigh, you dropped your purse. You couldn't just leave them out here; the building management was notoriously strict about hallway obstructions, and if anyone got fined, it would likely be you since they were stacked against your door. Crouching down in your pencil skirt, you gripped the sides of the top box and hoisted it. It was incredibly heavy, filled with what felt like solid metal components, likely tattoo machines, power supplies, or heavy jars of ink.
Groaning under the weight, you unlocked your door, pushed it open with your foot, and began the agonizing process of dragging Jeon Jungkook’s packages into your entryway just to clear the walkway. By the time all three boxes were sitting inside your pristine, minimalist apartment, your hair was falling out of its neat clip and a fine sheen of sweat coated your forehead.
You slammed your door shut with a loud sigh, locked it, and promised yourself you would make him beg for them later.
An hour later, the hot shower had done little to soothe your frayed nerves. You were dressed in a pair of silk pajamas, ones that made you feel slightly put together, and were just waiting for your water to boil on the stove when a knock rattled your front door.
It was a firm, demanding sequence that echoed through your quiet living room, and you instantly knew who it was. You walked over to the door, pulling the silk lapels of your shirt a little higher, and swung it open.
Jungkook stood under the hallway light, but he didn't look like the chaotic, shirtless disruptor from the night before. He wore a crisp, black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the intricate details of his forearms, and a pair of reading glasses was pushed up into his messy dark hair. He smelled like rain and the distinct, expensive scent of fresh leather.
He had his phone out, but his head snapped up the moment the door opened. His dark eyes instantly raked over you, taking in the smooth silk of your pyjamas, and the bare skin of your legs. A subtle shift occurred in his expression, the irritation fading into something heavy and focused.
"My tracking email says my shipment has arrived," Jungkook said, "And considering my doorstep is completely empty, I figured my favourite brat took them hostage."
You decided to completely ignore that last part, even if the sound of him calling you his made your stomach swirl with butterflies. Leaning against your doorframe, you crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on the exposed skin of your legs. "They were dropped off at the wrong door, Jungkook. But because I actually care about building regulations, I dragged them inside so we wouldn't get flagged by management."
Jungkook’s eyes flicked past your shoulder, spotting the three large cardboard boxes sitting stacked neatly in your entryway. A slow, infuriating smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Look at you," he drawled, stepping closer, completely ignoring the unspoken boundary of your threshold. "A good Samaritan. And here I thought you hated me."
"I do hate you," you shot back quickly, your voice perhaps a bit too breathless. "I dragged them in because I didn't want your garbage associated with my apartment number. Take them and get out."
Jungkook took another step forward, crossing the threshold entirely. He entered your apartment without an invitation, his heavy combat boots clicking against your polished hardwood floors. The sheer size of him suddenly made your entryway feel microscopic. He was too large, too loud, too much for the quiet, curated space you kept.
"Nice place," he murmured, his eyes scanning your neat living room, the perfectly aligned throw pillows, the single candle burning on the coffee table. He looked entirely out of place, like a dark ink stain on a white canvas. He turned back to you, leaning his hip against your entryway table, "A little sterile, don't you think? I’m not surprised though, it matches your personality."
"Get out of my apartment, Jungkook," you scoffed, your hand gripping the edge of your shorts. He was barely six inches away from you. You could see the faint shadow of stubble along his sharp jawline, and just how plump his bottom lip is.
"Make me," he countered softly.
The words weren't a threat; they were a direct challenge. The air between you turned heavy, filled with the unresolved situation from the previous night. The memory of him looming over you in the hallway, his bare chest inches from your face, flared to life in your mind, making your hands twitch.
Jungkook noticed. His gaze dropped to your chest, watching the rapid rise and fall of your breathing beneath the silk, before travelling back up to lock onto your eyes. He tilted his head down, his voice dropping into a quiet whisper that sent a shiver straight down your spine.
"You're shaking, Y/N."
"I'm angry that you’re violating my space," you lied, your jaw tightening as you stared back at him, refusing to let him see how much his presence was rattling you. "Just take your boxes and leave."
Jungkook didn't move. He reached out, his large, tattooed hand hovering just inches away from your face. For a terrifying, exhilarating second, you thought he was going to touch you, that his fingers were going to slide against your skin, possibly caressing you. Your eyes widened slightly, your body freezing in anticipation, your core pulsing with a spike of heat.
But he didn't touch you. Instead, his fingers brushed against the stray strands of hair that were clinging to your cheek, gently tucking them behind your ear without his skin ever actually making contact with yours. The sheer restraint of the gesture was agonizing, a physical tease that made your pulse skyrocket so much that you thought you were going to have a heart attack.
"You're all talk," he whispered, his eyes staring into yours with a terrifying amount of certainty. "You pretend you can't stand the sight of me, but you're hyper-aware of every single thing I do. You like me, baby. It's the only time you actually let yourself feel something."
"You don't know anything about me," you hissed, your hands curling into tight fists against your sides to keep from reaching out and shoving him, or pulling him closer.
"I know you've been thinking about last night," he murmured, his face coming so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. He smelled so good it was dizzying, an intoxicating pull that was corrupting your common sense by the second. "Just like I have."
Before you could process the confession, before you could fire back a retort or even question him about his words, Jungkook abruptly straightened up. The intensity broke instantly as he stepped away from you, reaching down to grab the heaviest box from the stack.
He lifted it effortlessly, his biceps flexing against the fabric of his shirt, the tattoos shifting dynamically with the movement. You prayed in that moment that he didn’t just catch you ogling his biceps.
"I'll take the rest of these off your hands," he said, his tone shifting back to that lazy, casual tone, though his eyes still held a lingering heat. He walked out into the hallway, setting the first box down by his door before returning for the second.
You stood frozen by your open door, your skin practically vibrating from the near-miss of his touch. You watched him silently as he moved the remaining boxes, his broad back shifting under the crisp black fabric of his shirt.
When the last box was cleared, he stood in his own doorway, looking back at you across the narrow expanse of the hallway. He pushed his reading glasses down onto the bridge of his nose, the frames casting a sharp shadow over his dark eyes.
"Thanks for holding onto my package, Y/N," he said, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across his face as he emphasized the last word. "Have a good night. Try to get some sleep."
He stepped into apartment and shut the door, the click of his lock echoing in the quiet hallway.
You stood there for a long moment, staring at the blank wood of his door. Your heart was hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird, and your lower stomach was tight with an unfulfilled ache. You walked back into your apartment, slamming the door shut and locking it with a trembling hand.
The water on your stove was boiling over, but you didn't even notice. You leaned your back against the door, closing your eyes, completely consumed by the realization that the war between you was no longer about noise, and it was spiralling out of your control.
Jealousy was an ugly emotion. It didn't slip into your life quietly; it tore through your chest, making a mockery of you.
What made it entirely unbearable was its absurdity. You had no right to feel jealous. Jeon Jungkook was not yours. He was a chaotic, frustrating man who lived on the other side of a paper-thin wall, and was a man you actively claimed to despise to anyone who would listen. Yet, over the last forty-eight hours, the unwanted emotion had taken up permanently in the pit of your stomach, intensifying every time you heard his door click open or caught the distant sound of a feminine laugh.
The tipping point arrived on Saturday evening.
You had given up on trying to relax in your apartment. The silence felt less like peace and more like an interrogation, something that left you entirely too much time to think about the weight of his gaze, the sound of his voice, and the agonizing restraint of his fingers tucking your hair behind your ear. Driven by a restless need to escape your own thoughts, you had left the building around 9 PM to walk to the 24-hour market down the street, buying things you didn't need just to kill the time.
When you pushed through the glass doors of the apartment lobby to return, the universe decided to test the last small bits of your sanity.
Jungkook was standing by the mailboxes. He wasn't alone.
She was beautiful, painfully, effortlessly so. She wore a cropped leather jacket that matched his dark denim and possessed a confidence that shouted she belonged in his world. She was laughing, her head tilted back, her hand resting casually against the broad expanse of Jungkook’s chest. Her manicured fingers traced the fabric of his shirt, right over the spot where his heart beat, and Jungkook was looking down at her with an expression that you had never seen before.
Your footsteps halted on the polished tile floor. For a single, irritating second, the breath was completely knocked from your lungs. The surge of jealousy that hit you was so violent it made you dizzy. You wanted to march over there, rip her hand off his chest, and kiss him right in front of her.
Instead, your fingers tightened around the plastic handles of your grocery bag until your knuckles turned white. You forced your chin up, your expression hardening into a mask of pure ice, and began walking toward the elevators.
The sound of your sneakers against the tile cut through the quiet lobby.
Jungkook’s head snapped up instantly. The relaxed, easy smile vanished from his face the moment he looked at you. The shift in his demeanour was instantaneous; his shoulders squaring as his gaze tracked your movement across the room. He didn't look at the woman anymore. He didn't listen to whatever she was saying. His focus was entirely pinned to you.
But, you didn't look back. You stared straight ahead at the metallic doors of the elevator, pressing the button with a sharp jab.
Through the reflection in the polished steel doors, you watched the woman say something to him, pouting slightly as she noticed his detachment. Jungkook didn't even glance at her. He muttered a brief response, his eyes still burning a hole into the back of your head from across the lobby.
When the elevator doors finally opened, you stepped inside and turned around. For a fraction of a second, your eyes clashed with his across the expanse of the lobby. Then, the doors slid shut, leaving you alone in the quiet metal box.
The retaliation came less than twenty-four hours later.
On Sunday evening, a male colleague from your work, Eun-woo, offered to drop you off after a grueling, multi-hour project. Eun-woo was everything Jungkook was not. He was polished, predictable, and exceptionally polite. He parked his sleek sedan directly in front of your apartment building, killing the engine to turn and smile at you.
"You look exhausted, Y/N," Eun-woo said softly, reaching across the console to gently pat your forearm. "You've been working too hard. Let me take you out for dinner tonight. No talk about quarterly projections, I promise."
You opened your mouth to politely decline, but before the words could leave your lips, a sensation washed over you. It was that familiar, prickling heat on your skin, the unmistakable feeling of being watched.
Your eyes naturally drifted past Eun-woo’s shoulder, looking toward the concrete steps of the building entrance.
Jungkook was standing there.
He was wearing an oversized black hoodie with the hood pulled down, his dark hair messy and windswept. He had an unlit cigarette resting between his lips, and his hands were shoved deep into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. He wasn't moving. He looked like a statue carved from stone, his head tilted slightly downward, his eyes completely cold, and fixed entirely on Eun-woo’s hand resting against your forearm.
The look on his face was one you had never seen before. It wasn't the teasing, arrogant smirk of your neighbour. It was the glare of a man watching someone touch something that belonged exclusively to him. The animosity radiating off his frame was so strong it seemed to warp the very air around the car.
Eun-woo, entirely oblivious to the guy staring at him through the glass, smiled warmly. "What do you say?"
"I... I can't tonight, Eun-woo," you stammered, your voice breathless as you kept your eyes locked on Jungkook. "But thank you for the ride. I'll see you in the office tomorrow."
You practically scrambled out of the passenger seat, grabbing your purse and stepping onto the curb. The moment the car door slammed shut and Eun-woo pulled away, the space between you and Jungkook shrunk.
You walked up the concrete steps, your heart in your throat. Jungkook didn't move an inch to let you pass. He stood directly in the center of the double doors, forcing you to stop a mere foot away from him.
The scent of him, wrapped around you instantly, suffocating your anger and replacing it with a dizzying tension.
"Step aside, Jungkook," you said, your voice tight, though you hated the slight tremor that betrayed your composure.
He didn't move. He slowly took the unlit cigarette from his lips, holding it between two ink-stained fingers, his jaw clenching so hard you thought you saw a muscle twitch beneath his perfect skin.
"Who the hell was that?"
The sheer audacity of the question sparked a defensive fire in your veins. You glared back at him, scoffing loud while your chest rose and fell heavily. "None of your business. Move."
"It becomes my business when I have to watch some boring, predictable suit touch you," he hissed, taking a step forward, his massive frame completely blocking the entrance to the building. "Is that your type, Y/N? Safe? Predictable? Someone who asks permission before they even look at you?"
"At least he has manners," you spat back, your hands curling into fists against your thighs as you fought the overwhelming urge to press your palms against his chest just to feel the thud of his heart. "At least he doesn't treat his apartment like a revolving door for whatever girl that happens to breathe in his direction. Go back inside, Jungkook. I'm sure your friend from last night is waiting for a call back."
Jungkook’s eyes flared, satisfaction flickering through the anger in his gaze. He let out a breathless laugh that sounded entirely devoid of joy.
"Oh," he whispered, stepping so close his chest brushed against yours, trapping you against the cold metal railing of the steps. "So that's what this is. You’re jealous."
"I’m not jealous!" you lied, your voice rising slightly under the weight of the suffocating proximity.
"You are," he corrected, his voice dropping into a whisper that felt like a physical touch against your skin. He leaned in, his lips close to the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your cold skin. "You were practically burning a hole in the back of my head last night, baby. I could feel you from across the room. You hated seeing her hand on me. Admit it."
"You're so delusional," you gasped out, your head tilting back against the railing, your eyes widening as you stared up at his sharp profile. The urge to reach out, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss, was so overwhelming your entire body ached with it. Your skin was screaming for the contact he was withholding.
"Tell me I'm lying," Jungkook commanded, his gaze dropping to your mouth, his own breathing heavy and ragged. His hand twitched at his side, his fingers flexing as if he were fighting every instinct he possessed to keep from grabbing your waist. "Tell me you don't want to rip my shirt off every time you see me. Tell me you don't think about me when you're lying in your bed alone, touching yourself."
He whispered that last part, like he knew that he caught you red handed. Your face instantly burned, a stupid blush filling your cheeks. "I hate you," you whispered, the words losing all their venom, sounding more like a desperate plea for mercy.
"Good," Jungkook growled, his eyes locking back onto yours with a terrifying amount of intent. "Keep hating me. Because the moment you stop, Y/N, I'm not going to let you walk back into that apartment alone."
Then, he moved away. His chest heaving as he stared down at you for one last, agonizing second. The restraint between you was a thin wire, vibrating so violently it threatened to snap both of you in half.
Without another word, Jungkook turned, shoved the glass doors open, and walked into the building, leaving you standing on the concrete steps in the freezing air, gasping for breath, completely consumed by a fire that you never signed up for.
You had lost the argument the moment your friends showed up at your apartment door carrying a garment bag and a bottle of cheap prosecco. Driven by what they called a "mandatory intervention for a workaholic," they had stripped you of your comfortable sweatpants, forced you into a sleek black dress that clung to your curves like a second skin, and dragged you out into the weekend night.
Now, standing in the middle of Prism, one of the city’s exclusive, packed clubs, you regretted every single life choice that had led you here.
The environment was definitely an assault on the senses. Neon blue and magenta strobe lights cut through a haze of smoke, flashing in sync with an industrial beat that vibrated through the soles of your strapped heels. The bass was a physical force, thumping against your heart.
Spitefully, your brain immediately made the connection. It felt exactly like apartment 4B on a Saturday night.
"Come on, Y/N! Take a sip!" your friend shouted over the roar of the crowd, shoving a vodka cranberry into your hand. "You’ve been a ghost all week. Live a little!"
You managed a smile, taking a swallow of the bittersweet alcohol. The drink burned its way down your throat, doing absolutely nothing to soothe the restlessness that had been clawing at your insides since your conversation with Jungkook on the building steps. You felt entirely out of place among the sea of hot bodies. Your mind was a long loop of dark irises, the smell of cigarettes, and the memory of his broad chest brushing against your own.
Desperate for a moment of peace, you stepped back from the edge of the pulsating dance floor, leaning your shoulder against a cold, mirrored pillar near the VIP lounge. You took another slow sip of your drink, your eyes aimlessly roaming the layout of the club.
And then, your heart completely stopped.
Situated in a semi-private leather booth was a group that looked like they had crawled straight out of a high-fashion editorial. They were effortlessly cool, heavily tatted, and radiating an aura of untouchable arrogance.
Sitting right in the centre of them, a glass of amber whiskey held loosely between his fingers, was Jungkook.
The breath caught in your throat, a violent surge of shock rushing to your face. He was stripped of the oversized streetwear and the studio gear. He was wearing a midnight-black silk button-down shirt, the top three buttons casually undone to expose the sharp lines of his collarbones and the ink that climbed up the side of his shoulder. A silver chain caught the flashing neon lights, glinting against his chest. His dark hair was styled as a mullet, exposing the brutal symmetry of his jawline.
He was surrounded by his friends, likely the other artists he hung out with, but your eyes didn't linger on them. They snapped instantly to the woman sitting on the armrest of his booth. She was a striking beauty in an incredibly short silver dress, leaning down to whisper something into his ear, her hand resting casually on the back of his neck.
Dread bloomed in the pit of your stomach, so intense it made your hand tremble against your glass. The same toxic, nauseating jealousy from the lobby bloomed to life, hotter and more dangerous than before. You watched, your jaw clenching, as Jungkook took a slow sip of his drink, his face expressionless as the woman laughed at something his friend said.
As if he somehow sensed the weight of your gaze, Jungkook’s head turned. His dark eyes cut through the flashing strobe lights, scanning the crowded floor below with a lazy, bored detachment, until they hit the mirrored pillar.
Until they hit you.
The shift in his demeanour was instantaneous. The bored, relaxed slouch vanished as his posture went straight. He didn't blink, only because his gaze locked onto you with the force of a vice grip, his eyes that were almost terrifying under the flashing blue lights. He raked his eyes down your body, tracking the sharp line of your collarbone, the tight fit of the black dress, and the bare skin along your legs.
The woman in the silver dress reached down, trying to draw his attention back to her, her fingers brushing his jaw. But, Jungkook didn't even look at her. With a cold, dismissive flick of his wrist, he brushed her hand away, his focus entirely on you.
The silent, cross-room standoff was constricting. The music roared around you, and you were sure that your friends were already on the dance floor, but the space between your pillar and his booth felt completely devoid of air. You raised your chin, giving him a cold, defiant glare, refusing to look away first.
“Hey, beautiful. You look like you’re having a miserable time.”
The unfamiliar voice shattered the connection. A tall, well-dressed man in a fitted grey shirt had materialized in your space, leaning against the pillar beside you with a confident, practiced smile. He held a fresh drink out toward you. "Can I buy you something better than whatever that is?"
You blinked, trying to clear the fog of Jungkook’s gaze from your brain. "No, thank you. I'm okay with this drink" you said, your tone polite but icy.
The man didn't take the hint. He took a step closer, invading your personal space, his hand coming up to rest on the mirror just above your shoulder. "Come on, just one drink. A girl like you shouldn't be standing alone in a dark corner."
Before you could fire back a sharp rejection, a shift occurred in the atmosphere.
"She said no."
The man in the grey shirt froze, looking up slowly. Jungkook was standing there. He had somehow left the VIP section with a terrifying amount of speed, and the look on his face was enough to make the other man visibly pale. Jungkook loomed over you, his chest expanding with an angry breath, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark trousers.
"You got a problem, man?" the guy stammered, trying to maintain his bravado but failing miserably under Jungkook’s presence.
"Yeah," Jungkook replied, taking a slow step forward that forced the man back a foot. "I have a problem with you breathing my air. Walk away. Right now."
There was no negotiation in his tone. The man in the grey shirt looked between Jungkook’s ink-covered hands and the look in his eyes, swallowed hard, and retreated into the crowd without another word.
The moment he was gone, Jungkook turned on you.
The anger radiating off him was so strong it made your skin prickle with a terrifying sensation. Before you could speak, his large hand shot out, his ink-stained fingers gripping your wrist. His grip wasn't painful, but it was stubborn, completely unmoving as he dragged you away from the pillar, pulling you through the crowded venue toward the corridor that led to the private restrooms and emergency exits.
"Jungkook, let go of me!" you gasped, your heels clicking frantically against the floor as you tried to pull back, but it was like trying to move a mountain.
He didn't answer until he had dragged you into a secluded part of the hallway, away from the prying eyes of the club-goers. He shoved open a door, pulling you into a quiet stairwell where the music was reduced to a muffled heartbeat through the walls.
He released your wrist, turning around to face you, his chest lifting under the black shirt. He slammed his hand against the concrete wall beside your head, leaning down until his face was a mere inch from yours, trapping you entirely within the shadow of his body.
"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle ticked violently beneath his skin. "You wear a dress like this out in public? You let random bastards back you into a corner?"
The hypocrisy of his anger made your own frustration explode. You pressed your palms against his chest, feeling the thud of his heart beneath the silk, trying to shove him back, but he didn't move an inch.
"I can wear whatever I want, Jungkook!" you shouted back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and desire. "I don't belong to you! Why don't you go back to your VIP booth? I'm sure the girl in the silver dress is missing her hand on your neck!"
Jungkook let out a scoff, his eyes dropping to your mouth before snapping back to your eyes, a possessive satisfaction flickering through the fury in his gaze.
"You were watching me," he whispered, his voice dropping into a rough tone that made your core pulse with heat. He stepped closer, his thighs brushing against the thin fabric of your dress, pinning you against the cold concrete wall. "You hated it. You hated seeing her touch me."
"I don't care about you," you lied, your breathing ragged, your fingers curling into the silk of his shirt. "I don’t care about the girls you’re always with.”
"You're a liar, Y/N," he growled, his hand leaving the wall to cup the side of your jaw, his rough, calloused thumb pressing firmly against your chin, tilting your head up. The contact was electric, a blinding rush that made your knees tremble. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending a violent shiver down your spine. "You've been losing your mind over me all these months, just like I've been losing my mind over you. I look at you in this dress, and all I can think about is ripping it off your body."
"Then do it," the words slipped from your lips before your pride could stop them, a challenge born from months of agonizing restraint.
Jungkook froze, his breath hitching against your skin. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his pupils completely dilated. He was waiting for consent, something that gave him the permission to touch you however he wanted. In response, you gave him an eyebrow raise, challenging him.
Jungkook didn’t answer with words. The last thread of his restraint snapped with a beautiful finality. Before you could even inhale, his mouth crashed down onto yours.
It was a violent claim, a collision of months of frustration and denial. He tasted like expensive whiskey and cigarettes, his tongue forcing its way past your mouth with a bruising hunger that made your head spin. His hand clamped around your throat, with a firm pressure that anchored your head against the wall, forcing you to take the absolute depth of his mouth.
You groaned into the kiss, your hands flying up to his chest, your fingers clawing desperately at the midnight-black silk of his shirt. You ripped at the other buttons, wanting the barrier gone, wanting the tattooed reality of his skin against yours. A few buttons scattered across the concrete floor with a sharp, clicking echo, exposing the hard, carved lines of his chest.
Jungkook tore his mouth away from yours, his breathing a ragged, broken wheeze. "You asked for this," he growled, whispering against your skin. "I’m not going to hold back now.”
He didn't even touch the zipper of your dress. His fingers hooked into the hem of the sleek black fabric and yanked it upward with a brutal, impatient force, gathering the material around your waist and leaving your bare legs completely exposed to the chilly air of the stairwell. His large hands, rough and searing hot, slid up the inside of your thighs, his palms scraping against your sensitive skin with a friction that made you shiver.
When his hand hit the centre of your lace underwear, he let out a satisfied chuckle. You were already dripping, the thin fabric completely soaked through.
"Look at you," Jungkook muttered, his thumb rubbing heavily over your swollen core through the wet lace, your hips arching off the wall automatically. "Wet for me in a dirty stairwell. Tell me how much you hate me now, Y/N. Say it while you're shaking in my hands."
"Jungkook—fuck, please," you gasped, your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and ripped them down your legs, discarding them carelessly on the concrete steps.
He stepped between your knees, his massive, denim-clad thighs forcing your legs wide apart. He fumbled with the belt of his trousers, the metal buckle clinking loudly in the quiet space. He shoved his pants down just enough to free his length, and the sight of his thick cock already leaking with pre-cum sent adrenaline through your body.
Jungkook didn't ease you into it. He grabbed your right thigh, hoisting it up over his hip, anchoring you against his broad frame. He guided his tip to your dripping entrance, paused for a fraction of a second to lock his eyes onto yours, and pushed himself inside you.
The fullness of him stretched you open so fast that a breathless cry tore from your throat. Your eyes widened in temporary shock, your walls clamping around him, desperately trying to accommodate the size of him. Jungkook froze, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as a shudder wracked his entire body. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his face ticked, a deep, guttural groan vibrating right against your collarbone.
"Fuck," he panted, his voice a strained, broken sound. "You're so tight... Wrap your other leg around me. Now."
You obeyed blindly, your pride entirely incinerated by the blinding rush of pleasure. You hooked your left leg around his waist, lifting yourself completely off the floor. Jungkook caught you effortlessly, his large hands locking onto the undersides of your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh with a bruising touch that you were sure were going to leave dark marks on your skin.
With your legs wrapped around him, Jungkook began to move.
The pace was frenzied, driven by a rawness that had everything to do with possession. He pulled back until his tip was nearly sliding out, only to pound himself back into you with a slamming force that made the breath hitch in your chest. Every single thrust was deep, hitting your G-spot with brutal precision that made your vision blur into white spots.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the isolated stairwell, competing with the muffled, distant heartbeat of the club’s bass through the heavy service door.
"Jungkook, wait—it's too much," you sobbed out, your head tossing back against the concrete wall as your orgasm began to build. Your core was pulsing, the stretch of his big cock pushing you to the absolute brink of sanity.
"I'm not stopping," he growled, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming harder and more accelerated. He leaned forward, crushing his bare chest against your sensitive nipples through the ruined fabric of your dress. He grabbed your jaw with his one hand, forcing your face up, his eyes burning into yours. "Look at me. Don't close your eyes. I want to see you come."
You held his gaze, your mind completely shattered. He was consuming you, erasing every single boundary you had spent months building.
The orgasm started deep within your core, a sudden tightening that clamped around his length like a fist.
"Jungkook—I'm coming—I'm going to—"
"Do it," he commanded, his voice breathless, his lips twisting into a smirk, as he delivered more desperate slams, driving his pelvis flush against yours. "Come for me, Y/N. Take all of it."
Your orgasm crashed over you with the violence of a physical blow. You screamed his name into the empty stairwell, your body convulsing, your walls rippling around him in intense waves. The sensation of your release was the exact breaking point Jungkook needed. With a moan, he drove himself into you one last time, pushing his cock as deeply as possible. His cock pulsed within your heat as he filled you, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he gasped for air like a drowning man.
The silence that followed was broken only by the loud, echoing sound of your tangled, ragged breathing.
Jungkook didn't let you down immediately. He remained buried deep inside you, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his skin slick with sweat, his heart hammering. His hands slowly relaxed their bruising grip on your thighs, his fingers gently tracing the marks he had left behind on your skin.
Slowly, the haze of lust began to leave, leaving behind a hyper-aware intimacy that felt completely foreign.
He pulled out with a soft, wet sound, a breathy sigh escaping his lips as he adjusted his clothing, his movements uncharacteristically quiet. He reached down, picking up your ruined underwear from the steps and sliding them into his pocket before turning back to look at you.
You were leaning against the wall, your dress still bunched around your waist, your chest heaving, your legs trembling so badly you could barely stand.
Jungkook didn't say a word. He reached out, his hands gently grasping the hem of your black dress and pulling it back down, smoothing the fabric over your hips with a tenderness that completely contrasted the violence of the last ten minutes. He reached up, a thumb gently wiping away a stray tear of overstimulation from your cheek, then he kissed your lips softly.
"Come on," Jungkook whispered, his voice still raspy, his fingers tangling with yours as he pulled you toward the exit door. "We're going home. And you're staying in my bed tonight."
The taxi ride back to the apartment was pure agony. His large palm was wedged between your thighs, his fingers damp with your own fluids, pressing hard against your swollen core every time the car hit a bump in the asphalt.
You had to bite the collar of his shirt to keep from crying out in the back seat, while Jungkook stared out the window, his jaw clenched so tight the wire of his jawline looked sharp enough to cut.
“Jungkook… I can’t—” you whispered against his collarbone, drool leaking out of your mouth. His fingers kept teasing your clit, ruthlessly edging you. You were convinced he just wanted to see you cry.
But before he could let you finish, the taxi stopped to a halt, right outside your apartment complex. The moment his apartment door slammed shut behind you, his restraint snapped again.
There was no walk to the bedroom. Jungkook grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, shoving you face-first against the matte-black kitchen island. Your palms slapped against the cold stone counter to catch your weight, your breath hitching as he immediately crowded your back, his massive, solid chest flattening against your spine.
"Jungkook—"
"Quiet," he growled, his voice a quiet rasp.
He didn't waste a single second. His hands hooked into the waist of your black dress, pulling the fabric up until it sat bunched around your ribs, leaving your lower body completely bare to his gaze. He reached down, grabbing your hips with a bruising grip, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh.
You heard the sharp snap of his belt loosening, the zipper of his trousers tearing open. He guided his cock right against your dripping pussy, rubbing his swollen tip against you twice until you were sobbing into the stone countertop, begging for the impact. With a tilt of his hips, Jungkook drove himself into you from behind.
He buried his entire length into your pussy in one deep thrust. The force of the entry rattled you, a loud, broken wail tearing from your throat. Your hips buckled under the weight, but his hands locked onto your waist like iron bands, holding you perfectly in place, forcing your body to take every single inch.
"Fuck, this pussy is so tight for me, my dirty slut," he whispered against the back of your neck, his breath scalding hot.
He began to pound into you with a brutal emphasis. Every stroke was a clapping impact of his pelvis against your ass, the sound echoing loudly in the kitchen. He pulled out until only his tip remained inside your slick walls, then slammed back in, bottoming out against you with a force.
Your hands slid wildly on the smooth kitchen island, unable to find traction as his relentless pace drove you forward with every thrust. Jungkook reached forward, his large hand tangling ruthlessly in your messy hair, pulling your head back so your spine arched painfully, beautifully into him.
"Look at the mirror," he commanded, his voice filled with lust, nodding toward the reflective glass of his studio across the room. "Look at what I'm doing to you."
Through your blurred, tear-filled vision, you saw the silhouette of his body looming over yours, his heavily tattooed right arm flexing as he pinned you down, the contrast of his dark ink against your pale, flushed skin. He thrusted harder, his cock rubbing against your internal sweet spot with every shallow strike until your brain short-circuited.
Before you could reach the precipice of an orgasm, Jungkook pulled out with a wet sound. You gasped at the emptiness, your body shivering from the loss of heat, but he wasn't done.
He grabbed your arm, dragging you off the counter and pulling you backward into his adjoining tattoo studio. The room was illuminated by the glow of his lights. He shoved you back against the floor-to-ceiling mirror that lined the wall, the cold glass sending a shockwave through your overheating skin.
Jungkook dropped to his knees before you.
Your breath caught as his hands clamped around your thighs, forcing them wide apart. He buried his face straight into your dripping core, lapping up your wetness with an aggression that made your head toss back against the glass. He sucked your swollen clit into his mouth, his licking at the sensitive nub until you were screaming his name, your fingers clawing at his dark hair to pull him away before you lost your mind.
"Jungkook, please—no more, I can't—"
He ignored your pleas. He rose to his feet, his lips slick with your wetness. He looked completely unhinged, like someone else had taken over him. He grabbed your right leg, hoisting it up and draping your knee over his broad shoulder, opening you up completely.
He aligned himself and drove back inside you, using the wall to pin you completely.
This position allowed him to go even deeper. Every thrust was a severe plunge that filled you to the absolute brim. The cold glass of the mirror rattled behind your back with every slam of his hips. Jungkook’s hand locked around your throat again, his thumb pressing hard against your pulse point, just barely cutting off your air.
"You think you can look down on me?" he panted, his face inches from yours. "You think because you're stuck-up and perfect I wouldn't do this to you? You're mine, Y/N. Every single part of you."
"Yes—fuck, yes—Jungkook—"
The friction was blinding. You began to squeeze around him in uncontrollable spasms. Realizing you were about to come again, Jungkook pulled out at the last second, refusing to let you finish. You let out a frustrated, angry cry, but he grabbed your waist, throwing you onto his low, leather tattoo table.
He crawled over you like a shadow, forcing you onto your back. He grabbed both of your ankles, shoving your knees all the way back to your chest, folding you completely in half. It was a position of vulnerability, leaving you entirely exposed to him. He looked down at you, his chest glistening with sweat, his tattoos shifting dynamically as he braced his weight over you. He lined his tip up with your soaking, convulsing entrance and slammed down with the entire weight of his torso.
The depth was staggering. A loud sob tore from your throat as he filled you, his cock stretching you past your limits.
"Look at me," he growled, his voice a raw, broken rasp.
He began to move in devastating strokes. He wasn't pulling out anymore; he was grinding his pelvis against yours, his thumb slipping against your clit with every drive. You locked your fingers into the leather edges of the table, your head rolling side to side as your entire body vibrated with a white-hot, blinding pleasure.
"Jungkook— please. Please, let me come!”
“Apologize first. Apologize for being a brat to me all these months. Tell me how badly you wanted my cock inside you.” he rasped, slapping your cheek.
Your head snapped to the side, the pain adding more intensity to your pleasure. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Jungkook! I wanted your cock so badly,” you cried out, tears cascading down your cheeks
"Good girl. Now come for me," he ordered, his pace getting faster, a sprint toward his orgasm. "Take it, baby. Take my cum."
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to yours as your second orgasm crashed over you with the force of a tsunami. Your walls clamped around him, dragging him over the edge with you.
With a moan, Jungkook delivered more thrusts, before his cum flooded your pussy, filling you to the brim as he pulsed inside you over and over again, his forehead dropping against yours as you both collapsed into the ruined, sweat-soaked darkness of the studio.
The thuds of your hearts were the only sound left in the studio, a stark contrast to the music that usually filled the space. The heat radiating between your bodies was prominent as the initial shock of the orgasm began to leave. Jungkook remained above you for several long minutes, his forehead still pressed against yours, his breathing a ragged, trembling rattle that gradually slowed down.
When he finally shifted, pulling out of you with a soft, wet sound, a cold shiver immediately raced across your skin. You let out a small, involuntary whimper at the loss of warmth, your overstimulated muscles twitching.
Jungkook didn't say a word. The intensity that had consumed him moments ago seemed to evaporate, replaced by a stillness. He slid off the leather tattoo table, his bare feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. Through the dim light, you watched his silhouette move across the room. He looked entirely different now; the sharp edges of his posture had softened.
You heard the rustle of fabric, followed by the sound of running water from the small sink in the corner of his studio. You lay there, completely paralyzed by pleasure and exhaustion, your legs still trembling slightly against the leather surface. The reality of what had just happened began to settle into the marrow of your bones, leaving you feeling entirely exposed.
When Jungkook returned, he was holding a dark towel soaked in warm water. He knelt down beside the low table, his dark eyes fixed entirely on your face, searching your expression with an intensity that made your breath hitch. There was no smirk on his face. The arrogant, untouchable exterior he wore like armour was entirely gone.
"Hey," he whispered, his voice incredibly hoarse, "Let me clean you up."
Before you could even think to protest or hide yourself, he gently caught your ankles, straightening your legs out with a soft touch. He began to wipe away the sweat and the messy aftermath of his cum from your inner thighs. His hands, the same ones that had pinned you down, were now incredibly careful, moving with a light precision as if he were afraid you might break under his touch.
Every stroke of the warm towel sent a completely different kind of shiver through your body. It wasn't the white-hot spike of lust, but a deep, aching warmth that made your chest tighten.
"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. His thumb brushed against the soft skin of your hip, right over the faint red marks where his grip had been bruisingly tight. "I went too hard."
"I'm fine," you breathed out, your voice small and raspy from all the moaning you had done. "I'm not glass, Jungkook."
A small, genuine breath of a laugh escaped his lips, though it looked more like a sigh of relief. He finished cleaning you, tossing the towel aside onto a nearby stool. Instead of stepping away, he reached down, sliding his arms beneath your back and knees, and lifted you effortlessly into his chest.
You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his collarbone. He smelled like sweat, but you secretly didn't mind. He carried you out of the studio, walking past the cold kitchen island where the war had officially begun, and carried you into his bedroom.
His bedroom was a surprise. Given his chaotic lifestyle, you had expected a disaster zone of discarded clothes and empty takeout containers. Instead, it was tidy, dominated by a massive bed covered in charcoal-grey silk sheets. The only light came from a lamp on the nightstand, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.
He laid you down onto the mattress with immense care, immediately pulling the duvet over your exposed, shivering skin. You curled into the bed, your eyes tracking him as he walked over to his dresser. He pulled out an oversized, faded black cotton t-shirt and returned to the bedside.
"Here," he murmured, pulling the blanket back just enough to help you slide your arms through the sleeves. The fabric was massive on you, hanging past your thighs and swallowing your frame, completely soaked with his scent.
Jungkook disappeared into his bathroom for a brief moment, returning after a quick second. He was wearing nothing but a loose pair of soft sweatpants, his dark hair damp and messy against his forehead. He didn't look like the menacing guy from apartment 4B anymore; he looked completely human, stripped of the bravado and the spite that had defined your entire relationship.
He slid into the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a moment, a lingering tension hung in the air. You were both so used to fighting, so used to using words as weapons across the threshold of your doors, that the quiet intimacy of a shared bed felt foreign and dangerous.
You lay on your side, staring at him. He laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his jaw working as if he were trying to swallow a mountain of unspoken words.
"Y/N," he started, his voice cracking slightly in the quiet room. He turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes wide and completely unmasked under the amber light. "I need to say something."
You didn't interrupt. You just pulled the blanket higher up on your chin, watching him.
"I'm sorry," he said, the words coming out in a rush. He reached out under the covers, his large hand finding yours and wrapping his fingers securely around your smaller ones. "I'm sorry for the things I said, and everything else I've done. I was... I was entirely out of my mind."
He let out a long, ragged breath, his grip on your hand tightening.
"I've been losing my mind since the day I met you," Jungkook confessed, his gaze dropping to your intertwined fingers before rising back to your eyes. "You thought I was trying to annoy you with the music and the girls, and at first, I was just being a complete asshole. But after that first night you knocked on my door, when you were standing there looking so furious and so completely out of my league, everything changed. I didn't know how to get your attention.”
A soft smile touched his lips, though his eyes remained entirely serious. "I just wanted an excuse to see you come back to my door and yell at me again. Because any attention from you was better than you looking right through me."
Your heart did a violent flip in your chest. The honesty of his words was breaking down every defence mechanism you had spent months building.
"You called me a brat," you whispered softly, your voice completely devoid of the old malice. "You told me I was stuck-up."
"Because you’re so perfect, and it terrified me," Jungkook replied instantly, leaning closer until his face was only inches from yours on the pillow. "You have your life together. You have the career, the structure. I convinced myself that you looked down on me because it was easier than admitting that I was completely beneath you."
He reached his free hand out from beneath the covers, his fingertips gently brushing against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a tenderness that made your eyes prickle with tears.
"But I don't want to fight with you anymore, Princess," he murmured, his voice dropping into a soft, vulnerable register that felt like a direct caress to your soul. "I don't want to hear you through a wall anymore. I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the second you told me to shut the hell up months ago."
The confession hung in the quiet space between you, heavy and beautiful. You stared at him, taking in the softness of his eyes, the absolute sincerity in his features, and the slight tremor in his hand as it rested against your face. He was completely exposed, giving you all the power to crush him if you wanted to.
But you didn't want to.
"I'm sorry too," you whispered, a small, tearful laugh escaping your lips as you moved your head to press your cheek firmly into his palm. "I was stuck-up. I looked down on your world because I was jealous of how free you were. I spent so much time hiding behind my schedules and work because admitting that I wanted something would mean admitting that I didn't have everything under control."
You reached up, your fingers tangling into the damp strands of his dark hair, pulling him just a fraction closer.
"I don't hate anything about you,” you confessed softly. "I love you too. I’ve been entirely miserable without you."
The relief that washed over Jungkook’s face was instantaneous and breathtaking. A massive, brilliant smile broke across his face, the boyish, dazzling smile he usually hid behind his arrogant smirks. He let out a joyous sigh , immediately throwing himself at you, covering your body with his.
"Say it again," he demanded, his voice thick with happiness as he buried his face into your neck, peppering your skin with soft, fluttering kisses.
"I love you, you idiot," you laughed, your hands gripping his shoulders as he rolled over, pulling you with him until you were lying flush against his chest, your heads resting on the same pillow.
"Good. Because you're stuck with me now," he muttered against your lips, before pulling you into a kiss. It was sweet, and incredibly deep, a gentle sealing of a contract you had both been waiting to sign for months.
When he finally pulled away, he wrapped his massive arms securely around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest in a tight, protective cocoon. His long legs tangled with yours under the silk sheets, his chin resting comfortably on the top of your head.
"The wall has to go," Jungkook murmured sleepily into your hair, his large hand gently stroking your stomach over the cotton of his t-shirt. "First thing Monday morning. I'm calling a contractor to knock the drywall down between 4A and 4B."
"We'll get evicted, Jungkook," you mumbled back, a soft, exhausted smile spreading across your face as your sleep deprivation finally caught up to you.
"Let them evict us," he whispered, his breathing slowing down as he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, his heart beating a steady, reassuring rhythm against your shoulder blades. "We'll just buy the whole damn building."
The wall didn’t come down on Monday morning, mostly because the building management threatened legal action at the mere mention of a sledgehammer, but the physical barrier between apartment 4A and 4B was entirely gone anyway.
Within a week, the deadbolt on your front door remained permanently unlocked. Within three, your living room began to acquire a few distinct artifacts, such as a stray sketch pad filled with intricate charcoal drawings of you resting on your glass coffee table, a pair of combat boots left neatly by your shoe rack, and a continuous, subtle scent of raw tobacco and expensive leather that no longer felt like an invasion, but more like a safety net.
On a hazy evening in July, the heat outside was horrible, but inside apartment 4A, the air conditioning was humming a quiet tune. You were sitting cross-legged on your sofa, a laptop resting on your thighs as you meticulously reviewed the upcoming budget projections. Your glasses were pushed up onto the bridge of your nose, your focus entirely ironclad.
Or, at least, it was supposed to be.
From the other side of the apartment, the door clicked open. You didn't even look up, your fingers continuing to fly across the keyboard, but your heart rate gave a familiar, stupid little skip.
A moment later, Jungkook stepped into your living room. He had just finished an eight-hour tattooing session, and he looked beautifully, completely wrecked. He had shed his shirt, wearing only a loose, sleeveless white tank top that exposed the sprawling canvas of his right arm and the blackwork wrapping around his ribs.
He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. He walked straight toward the couch, his heavy footsteps silent on your plush rug, and dropped his massive frame directly behind you.
"Jungkook, I’m working," you murmured in a breathless, soft tone.
"Don't care," he grumbled, his voice a gravelly vibration that resonated right through your spine.
His large, tattooed arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you backward until your spine was pressed flush against his warm, solid torso. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling against your pulse point, inhaling deeply. His breath was hot against your skin, sending a delicate flush up your throat.
"You smell like vanilla," he muttered, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he spoke. "It's driving me crazy."
"It's just perfume, you dramatic idiot," you laughed softly, tilting your head to the side to give him better access, your fingers finally halting over the laptop keys. "And I really need to finish this report. My boss is—"
"Your boss can wait," Jungkook interrupted, his hand moving beneath the hem of your oversized sweatshirt, his palm resting against the bare skin of your stomach. His thumb traced slow, soothing circles over your skin, his touch so incredibly gentle it made your chest ache. "You’ve been staring at that screen for hours. Let me take care of you."
You let out a long, defeated sigh, closing the laptop and setting it aside on the cushion. The moment the screen went dark, you turned around in his embrace, shifting until you were sitting face-to-face in his lap, your knees framing his hips.
Jungkook’s eyes instantly locked onto yours, the light from your lamp reflecting in his pupils. The lazy, arrogant smirk he used to wear like armor was completely gone, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration that still made you feel entirely exposed. He reached up, his thumb gently pushing your reading glasses down the bridge of your nose before sliding them off entirely, setting them on the sofa arm.
"There you are," he whispered, his rough fingers cupping your jawline, his thumb smoothing over your cheekbone. "I missed you today."
"I was right next door," you pointed out, a small smile tugging at your lips as you reached up to tangle your fingers in the soft, damp strands of his hair. "I could literally hear your tattoo machine vibrating through the drywall at 2 PM."
"Yeah, well, hearing you through a wall isn't the same as holding you," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips. "I kept thinking about how much I wanted to walk out of the apartment, and drag you into my bed. I’m completely ruined, Y/N. You've completely ruined me."
"Good," you whispered, leaning in until your lips were a mere breath away from his. "You deserve it for making my life a living hell for months."
Jungkook let out a low, breathless chuckle against your mouth before he closed the distance. The kiss was filled with a domestic warmth that belonged entirely to the two of you. There was no rush, no desperate battle for dominance, just the steady pull of two people. His hands slid down to your lower back, pressing you closer until there was no space left between you, his heart beating a strong, steady rhythm against your chest.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing a little shallow.
"I bought dinner," he murmured, his eyes still closed as his thumbs traced the line of your jaw. "That little noodle place you like down the street. It’s sitting on my kitchen counter."
"You remembered?" you teased, shifting your weight slightly in his lap.
"I remember everything about you," he corrected softly, opening his eyes to look at you with a terrifying amount of certainty. "I know you take your coffee with too much milk, I know you organize your closet by colour, and I know that when you're stressed, you bite the inside of your lip until it bleeds. I'm paying attention, baby. I'm always paying attention."
His words made your throat tight, warmth expanding in your chest. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder, holding onto him as if he were the only solid thing left in the universe.
"Come on," Jungkook whispered, shifting under you as he easily hoisted your body into his arms, keeping you tucked securely against his chest as he stood up from the sofa. "Let's go eat. And then I’m dragging you to bed, and you're going to let me sleep for twelve hours straight."
"Only if you promise not to play music at 3 AM," you mumbled into his neck as he carried you across the threshold into his apartment.
Jungkook kicked his front door shut behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway. He looked down at you, his bunny teeth showing as he smiled.
"Deal, Princess," he murmured, kissing your temple softly. "From now on, the only noise in this apartment is going to be you."
summary: desperate to see if a man devoted to god will unravel, you test his faith with your sweet, deceptive innocence—seducing fr. jeon until his devotion no longer belongs to god…but to you.
warnings: priest jungkook x sinful reader, explicit sexual content, forbidden relationship, candle wax play, rosary choking, edging, clit rubbing, filthy sexual desires, spitting, degradation, mock sympathy, pussy eating, condescending dirty talk, blow job, cum eating, usage of whore & slut, praising, cum eating, m. masturbation, manipulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie.
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂
Temptation, they said, was the devil's favorite weapon…subtle, patient, and often disguised as something beautiful.
Your beauty was the kind that invited sin. Like a priceless painting in a museum, admired by many but forbidden to touch, existing only to test the restraint of those who stood before it.
Yet despite the effect you seemed to have on everyone else, Fr. Jeon remained frustratingly untouched by it all. Men had always looked twice, their attention lingering long enough to make their interest known. But his eyes never lingered on you. They would meet yours for a fleeting moment before moving on, calm and unwavering, carrying the same gentle warmth they offered every soul that walked through the church doors.
Pathetic.
Wearing a long white virginal skirt, a matching conservative blouse, and your hair falling neatly down your waist, you grabbed your purse before heading downstairs to meet Sana.
“Glad you finally wore something decent,” Sana commented with a sheepish smile when she saw you stepping out of your house.
You pouted, looking down at the modest skirt fluttering around your ankles. “My cute dresses are decent too, you know.”
You weren’t a very religious person, but when your friend Sana told you she wanted to join the church choir, you were more than happy to come with her.
Between the two of you, she was the religious one—always carrying a small pocket bible in her purse, always reminding you to watch your words and actions because God was watching.
A lot of your friends were confused about how the two of you became so close. You were playful, rebellious, and bratty—more of a bad influence beside someone so polite and devout. But despite your mischievous nature, you were very sweet, friendly and charming. At university, you were one of the popular students, with plenty of friends and a reputation as a social butterfly.
When you first met Sana, you hadn’t expected the two of you to get along. She was a new student, still adjusting to the unfamiliar environment and trying to find her place among the other students. Being the friendly social butterfly that you were, you became the first person to approach her.
Your personalities couldn’t have been more different. Sana was calm, reserved, and quiet, while you were bold, bright, and loud.
Despite being complete opposites, the two of you grew unexpectedly close. You liked Sana because she was a breath of fresh air. Her calmness grounded the chaos within you, while your playfulness brought balance and excitement to her peaceful life.
Ever since you became best friends, you often accompanied her to church. Although you looked somewhat out of place trailing behind her while she helped with various church duties, volunteer work, and parish activities...you still enjoyed spending time with her.
You liked how she always listened to your rants and endless rambles. Following her around while she busied herself carrying boxes and helping wherever she could, your kitten heels clicked softly against the church’s marbled floors, and the longest dress you could find in your closet swayed gently with every step. As unusual as it felt to be dressed so modestly, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed these moments with Sana.
Your usual style of dressing didn’t exactly align with the church’s dress code… you had to trade your short skirts, midriff-baring tops, tight dresses, and cute spaghetti-strap tops for something more... demure.
At first, you tried to argue against it, but Sana quickly reminded you that those clothes weren’t appropriate for church. And of course, you had no choice but to listen unless you wanted another lecture about being a poor instrument of the Lord.
“Since when did you become a singer?” you teased as the two of you entered the church alongside a few parishioners and choir members.
Sana was dressed similarly to you, wearing a long skirt paired with a flowy long-sleeved blouse. In her right hand, she carried a small booklet filled with choir songs.
She pouted. “I can sing a bit, you know.” she opened the booklet and flipped through its pages. “As long as I’m serving the Lord, then no voice shall sound bad.”
You chuckled, already accustomed to her holy little remarks.
“If you say so,” you sang back playfully, following her up to the choir loft. You offered a polite smile to the other choir members, who were already busy practicing.
Since you weren’t actually there to join the choir, you let Sana focus on rehearsal while you wandered around the church on your own. Normally, you would have spent the entire time chatting her ear off, rambling about anything and everything, but today you let her concentrate.
A few parishioners were arranging fresh flowers around the framed images of saints, while others carefully dusted and polished the statues lining the church walls. The distant voices of the choir drifted through the air, blending with the soft murmur of prayers and quiet conversations, creating a peaceful atmosphere that settled gently around you.
When Sana first invited you to come with her to church, you had agreed out of nothing more than curiosity. You traded your usual weekend night outs for sunday mass, wanting to see the world through her eyes and understand why this place, with its quiet prayers and solemn rituals, meant so much to her.
The church offered a kind of quiet that rarely existed in your everyday life. Away from crowded parties, endless conversations, and the glittering chaos of your social circle, there was something unexpectedly comforting about this place. It gave you a chance to slow down, to breathe, and to simply exist without needing to be the loudest person in the room.
“Good morning, Fr. Jeon.” a few choir members and parishioners greeted.
You turned around absentmindedly, your head tilting curiously when you saw a priest entering through one of the church's side doors. Dressed in a long black cassock, he offered everyone a warm smile and a slight bow as he stepped inside.
A new priest?
“Are you here for the charity blessing, Fr. Jeon?” someone asked.
The woman approached him and received a gentle pat on the head in return.
He smiled. “Yes, I stopped by to gather a few materials for the blessing.”
Your head tilted slightly as you watched him, finding yourself taking an unconscious step forward.
A handsome fucking priest.
For the past few months that you'd been spending time at the church with Sana, this was the first time you'd seen him, and unfortunately for your soul, he was ridiculously attractive.
You found yourself shamelessly staring, almost in awe as he greeted everyone with effortless kindness.
He bowed politely, acknowledged each person with a warm smile, and listened attentively whenever someone spoke to him. It should've been a crime for a priest to be that good-looking.
Sinful.
The long black cassock he wore looked attractively sinful wrapped around someone so impossibly holy, the stark contrast only making him harder to ignore. His sharp jawline became more pronounced whenever he turned to greet someone with a kind smile, and a pair of thin-framed glasses rested neatly on his nose, lending him an air of quiet intelligence that did absolutely nothing to help your situation. His eyes were dark and warm behind the lenses, attentive whenever he listened to someone speak, and his jet-black hair was styled neatly, though a few stubborn strands had fallen across his forehead.
Everything about him looked composed, dignified, and entirely inappropriate for the thoughts currently running through your head.
You almost let out a dramatic gasp when Fr. Jeon finally waved his goodbye and turned to leave. A curse nearly slipped from your lips as you watched him make his way toward the church doors.
Everyone else had managed to greet him and earn one of his warm smiles, some even receiving a fond pat on the head. Meanwhile, you had spent the entire time standing near the altar, staring at him like an absolute creep, too mesmerized by his existence.
Internally rolling your eyes at yourself and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, you watched him disappear through the church doors. And then, because apparently your dignity had already left the building before he did, you immediately made your way back to Sana, who was still busy practicing her choir lines.
“So...” you began, trailing behind Sana as she walked around with her booklet, quietly memorizing her choir pieces.
“Is Fr. Jeon a real priest?”
Sana lowered the booklet and stared at you, her brows knitting together as she caught the suspicious wiggle of your eyebrows.
“Huh?”
“I mean...” you hesitated. “Is he a real priest or, like… an intern priest?”
The moment the words left your mouth, you realized how stupid they sounded.
Was there even such a thing as a priest internship?
Sana blinked. Then she burst out laughing. “He's a real priest, Y/N. What do you mean, intern priest?”
Your cheeks immediately warmed. You looked away while she continued laughing, lifting the booklet back up as you followed after her.
You pouted. “Well... he looks young.” And hot. “And I've never seen him before. Every time I've attended mass with you, he wasn't the presider.”
You tried to think back to the past few months but came up empty. No handsome priests. Because if there had been one, you definitely would've remembered.
In fact, you were pretty sure you would've started sitting in the front row.
“Yeah, because he only got appointed recently,” Sana answered, her attention back on the booklet. “A few months ago, I think.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, almost groaning when you haven’t met him before he got appointed.
What the fuck, Y/N. Are you seriously eyeing a priest?
Absolutely not. That was...unholy!
For the following weeks, you found yourself clinging to Sana more than usual.
At first, you convinced yourself it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Going to church with her wasn't exactly new.
You just weren't nearly as consistent as she was.
There were plenty of sundays you skipped altogether, choosing late nights with your friends over early mornings in church. Besides, you figured there would always be another mass to attend, while convincing Sana to show up at one of your parties was practically impossible.
That was why you never attended as regularly as she did.
Lately, however, the situation seemed to have reversed. Now, you were the one volunteering to come.
Party invitations sat unanswered in your messages. Night outs were declined without hesitation. Instead, you found yourself asking Sana about choir practice, church activities, and whether she planned on volunteering for any upcoming events.
It was becoming a little concerning.
Wearing one of your now-usual long skirts and a modest blouse approved by church standards, you applied an extra layer of lip gloss in front of your mirror. Excitement bubbled inside you as you remembered what Sana had told you earlier that week—a charity event was coming up, and the church needed volunteers to help organize donations.
There had been plenty of charity events before, many of which you had skipped. Sana would usually spend the entire day helping sort donations and assisting the parishioners, leaving little time for the two of you to actually spend together. As much as you enjoyed tagging along with her, wandering around the church by yourself for hours wasn't exactly appealing.
This time, however, you were genuinely excited to come.
It wasn't as though you couldn't visit the church on your own. Nobody would stop you if you decided to drop by one afternoon.
The problem was that it would be… strange.
Ever since you started coming to church, it had always been because of Sana. Everyone knew you as her friend, not as someone particularly devoted to the church.
If you suddenly started showing up by yourself every weekend, people would notice. You weren't exactly known for your devotion.
Especially when the answer involved a certain priest.
It was already strange enough that you were beginning to resemble a devoted Christian.
False piety.
When you arrived at the church, your heartbeat picked up immediately. Volunteers moved in and out of the building carrying boxes and supplies, conversations blending into a lively hum that filled the grounds.
“You can help with the boxes, Y/N. I'll just talk to the choir members,” Sana said with a smile.
You nodded a little too eagerly, grateful she didn’t question your sudden burst of interest in coming with her to church. It helped that you had accompanied her before—enough for it to not feel completely out of the blue.
“Okay! I'll help with the boxes!” you smiled brightly.
The moment Sana wandered off to join the other choir members, you immediately began looking around for ways to help.
“Let me carry those,” you offered with a bright smile, reaching for a volunteer struggling with a stack of old toy boxes meant for donation.
The woman thanked you and asked if you could bring them outside, where a small truck was parked to collect everything.
You happily agreed.
“I hope he comes today,” you muttered under your breath as you carried the boxes toward the truck, your eyes drifting toward the church entrance every few seconds.
According to Sana, Fr. Jeon frequently stopped by to check on donation drives, visit the parish office, or help coordinate volunteer work.
You had already carried nine boxes, then… ten. With every trip back and forth, you found yourself slowly losing hope that Fr. Jeon would show up at all. You were starting to regret wearing your cutest pink skirt today, and the growing disappointment was beginning to settle in alongside your irritation.
Just as you were about to accept that all your effort had been wasted, Fr. Jeon finally appeared, walking into the church hall.
Your eyes widened.
“Fuck—” you immediately winced, biting your lip the moment the word escaped. Mentally apologizing for cursing inside the church.
With a fresh box of donations balanced in your arms, you hurried toward the entrance, trying your best to look useful, helpful and responsible. Like the kind of person who volunteered here regularly and wasn't secretly waiting for your handsome priest to show up.
Your heart hammered against your ribs when he finally glanced in your direction.
“Good day,” he greeted with a smile and a polite nod, raising his right hand to gently pat your head.
Your cheeks immediately flushed, almost dropping the boxes when he touched you.
He patted my head!
Today, he was dressed in a fitted black long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into black slacks, a simple brown cross necklace resting against his chest. His jet-black hair was styled neatly away from his face, exposing a heart-shaped forehead that made him look unfairly handsome. He wore his usual pair of glasses, the thin frames resting on the bridge of his nose and softening the sharpness of his features. Behind the lenses, his round eyes looked steady and attentive, always observant, as if he noticed everything without ever needing to say so.
Goodness gracious.
Your gaze drifted lower, almost shamelessly staring…only to pause on his right hand.
You frowned slightly, you wanted to take a longer look, but his sleeves hid the rest of his arms from view, making it impossible to tell how far they extended.
Was that a tattoo?
For some reason, that discovery stunned you more than it should have. Priests and tattoos weren't exactly a combination you'd ever imagined together.
You were so distracted staring at his hand that you didn't realize he had already walked past you and moved on to greet the other volunteers.
You didn't even greet him back! Oh God.
Panic immediately settled in your chest. Adjusting your grip on the donation box, you hurried after him, determined to salvage the interaction somehow. You just needed a reason to talk to him.
A simple religious question, maybe?
Unfortunately, your brain had chosen this exact moment to stop working.
You couldn't exactly walk up to him and ask if priests were allowed to have tattoos. Nor could you suddenly start quoting bible verses when the majority of your religious knowledge came from Sana lecturing you every other week.
You wanted to sound natural and virginal.
The problem was that you had absolutely no idea how to start a holy conversation without sounding fake about it, like you were trying too hard to be someone you weren’t.
When you saw him entering the church office, you frowned and stomped your foot against the floor in irritation.
Pity.
You were a bit disappointed when his gaze didn’t even linger on you. You were used to boys in college always noticing you…showing their interest, getting swayed by your pretty face and charming personality. But here, inside the church, you were nothing more than another kind volunteer in his eyes—someone he greeted with the same calm respect he gave everyone else.
Importunate.
At this point, it had become a routine. You would come to church with Sana after school, grateful she had joined the choir because it gave you an excuse to be there almost every day instead of only on weekends.
While she attended rehearsals, you spent your afternoons helping with volunteer work and assisting the parishioners...all while discreetly searching the church grounds for your future boyfriend.
You even started dressing for it—slipping into the most “virginal” outfits your closet could offer in hopes of blending in. Long skirts, conservative blouses, dresses that covered everything they possibly could. It was almost laughable how much effort you put into looking like the perfect church girl, when a few months ago you would’ve rather died than be seen in half of these outfits.
The worst part was that it wasn't even guaranteed to work.
There were days when your timing simply didn't align. You would arrive at the church only to hear that Fr. Jeon had already stopped by earlier, or spend the afternoon helping around the parish before finding out he had come and gone while you were busy elsewhere. Sometimes you would leave just before he arrived, missing him by mere minutes.
You would come home without seeing even a glimpse of him, staring at your ceiling later that night and wondering why you felt so deflated over someone you barely knew.
Then there were the good days—when your schedules happened to align and you finally saw him. Your eyes would immediately light up the moment you spotted him across the church grounds, your smile growing brighter despite your attempts to act normal, your cheeks burning whenever he greeted you with that gentle smile and absentminded pat on the head.
Transgression.
At first, seeing him had been enough. Now, however, you found yourself expecting more. Not much...just a conversation that lasted longer than a few seconds. Something beyond charity drives, donation boxes, retreats, and volunteer work.
But Fr. Jeon was frustratingly...polite.
He greeted everyone with the same kindness, smiled at everyone with the same warmth, and spoke to everyone with the same respectful attentiveness. Whenever you managed to stand near him long enough for a conversation, he would ask about the charity, the donations, the volunteers, or whatever church event happened to be coming up next.
The discussion always remained firmly within the boundaries of church matters, and before you knew it, he would excuse himself to continue helping elsewhere.
You couldn't even ask him anything personal. Every question that came to mind sounded ridiculous the moment you imagined saying it out loud. Are those tattoos real? How old are you? Why are you so handsome for a priest?
None of them exactly sounded appropriate for church conversation.
So you remained stuck in this strange little cycle of yours, coming to church almost everyday with hopes far bigger than the interactions you actually received. And despite how ridiculous it felt, despite how much you scolded yourself for it, the highlight of your day was still that brief smile and the weight of his hand resting atop your head for a few seconds.
Shameful.
A shame that you had never actually talked to him.
Not beyond a few good afternoons exchanged in passing and the occasional greeting whenever your paths crossed around the church.
You didn't want to be too bold, afraid that he would notice your embarrassingly obvious attempts to get his attention. As someone who wasn't particularly religious, you found yourself in an absurd predicament.
Should you start reading the bible? Memorize a few scriptures? Learn enough about church teachings to hold an intelligent conversation with him?
The fact that you were even considering studying scripture just to impress a priest made you question every life decision that had led you to this point.
You wanted his eyes to linger on you. Wanted him to look at you a little longer than everyone else. Wanted to feel special in some way. But every time your gaze met his, he would simply smile and move on, his attention never staying in one place for too long.
Sometimes you wondered if the only thing capable of holding his complete devotion was God himself.
Which was unfortunate for you. Because you were used to being noticed.
You were pretty, and you knew it. Attention had always come easily to you, yet the one man whose attention you wanted most remained completely out of reach.
A man who was distant, unattainable, and forbidden in every possible sense of the word.
Standing in front of your mirror that afternoon, you smoothed down your floral dress and examined your reflection one last time. The modest dress fell neatly against your figure, paired with white kitten heels that made you look far more innocent than you actually were. You dabbed a little extra blush onto your cheeks before adding a touch more glitter to your eyelids, your excitement growing as you remembered what Sana had told you earlier that week.
Fr. Jeon would be presiding over today's mass.
It would be the first mass of his that you would be attending, and as you stared at yourself in the mirror, unable to stop smiling, you realized your excitement felt dangerously close to the kind of anticipation one would have before a date.
Sana had noticed that you were coming with her far more often nowadays, but being as naive and obedient as she was, she only took it as a good sign. In her eyes, your heart was simply getting closer to God, closer to faith, closer to something pure and meaningful.
Closer to Fr. Jeon, rather.
“You look excited,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling when you mentioned wanting to sit in the front row. The thought only made her happier, convinced that your devotion was finally deepening in the way she had always hoped for you.
Oh, you were devoted.
“Excited for the Mass, you know,” you replied with a small giggle, clasping your hands together as if to sell the image. “Wonder what bible chapter will be discussed today.”
Of course you were gonna listen, be a good little church girl and have your eyes and attention to him.
Your eyes were practically shining when you stepped into the church, making a beeline for the front row without hesitation. You sat down shamelessly, smoothing your skirt as if you had done this every sunday of your life.
Sana only smiled at your eagerness, completely oblivious to the fact that your decision had nothing to do with spiritual focus and everything to do with proximity. Sitting at the front felt less like devotion and more like VIP seating for the sole purpose of seeing Fr. Jeon up close.
When the bell finally rang, the entire church rose to its feet. Your heart kicked up immediately as the sacristans entered in procession, one of them carrying a smoking thurible that swung gently with each step. And right at the center of it all was him.
Your future boyfriend.
Your lips parted slightly, eyes widening as Fr. Jeon walked slowly down the nave with calm, deliberate steps. His hands were clasped together in front of him in prayer, and he wore the full liturgical vestments—a long white linen robe beneath a green chasuble, a thin stole draped over his shoulders, and a cincture tied neatly at his waist. The fabric moved softly as he walked, making him look almost unreal under the church lights, like something out of a painting you weren’t supposed to stare at for too long.
He greeted people with gentle smiles along the way, bowing his head politely, even pausing to pat a few children on the head as he passed the pews.
By the time he reached the altar, your attention was fully locked in.
Disingenuous.
You nodded a little too eagerly when responses were required, your voice coming out brighter than necessary during the choir parts, as if enthusiasm alone could prove your devotion. Every time he spoke, your focus sharpened, hanging onto his words a little too intently, even when you were supposed to be blending in with the rest of the congregation.
He was wearing his usual pair of glasses, slowly turning the pages of the bible with precise, practiced movements. His voice was steady and clear as he read, each word delivered with a calm authority that made it clear this role suited him completely. There was nothing rushed about him, nothing uncertain.. only a quiet certainty in the way he stood at the altar, as if it had always belonged to him.
By now, you had started mirroring him without even realizing it. Whenever he closed his eyes to say the prayers, you would close yours too, hands folded a little tighter than necessary, breathing in sync with the rhythm of the mass.
You were fucking crazy.
When it was time for the holy communion, you stood up almost too quickly, your heart thudding loudly in your chest as you joined the line forming in the aisle. Each step forward felt heavier than it should have, not because of the sacrament itself, but because of who was waiting near the altar.
“Are you alright?” Sana commented quietly when she noticed your flushed expression after the bell rang.
You let out a small, awkward laugh and instinctively smoothed down your long hair, trying to compose yourself. “Just thinking about my prayers,” you said lightly, as if that explanation made any sense at all.
She gasped, like you were really serious about your prayers, when all you could think about was—
He’s gonna feed me the host!
You were almost sweating as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the moment inch closer with every step in the line. Sana’s voice was still beside you, something about God always listening and having faith in his timing, but her words barely registered anymore. Your mind was elsewhere entirely, stuck on the growing realization that you were seconds away from facing him directly.
Preparing your hands in a prayer position, your brain almost short-circuited when you finally faced him, his right tatted hand holding the host up for you.
“The Body of Christ,” he said in a soft tone, almost detached in its reverence.
You wanted him to recognize you—the obedient good girl who always volunteered at the church. But fuck, he was too absorbed in God and the communion.
Your lips parted. “Amen…”
When he finally fed you the host, you almost choked when you felt the slight, accidental brush of his index finger against your lips as he withdrew his hand. You were left completely flustered, while he remained composed and focused on the ritual, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on you.
To you, it felt intimate.
To him, it was simply the Eucharist…a sacred duty, a practiced motion repeated countless times.
When you returned to your seat and lowered yourself to kneel again, you pressed your hands together a little too tightly. In your head, you immediately apologized to God for every impure thought, questionable intention, and shameless moment you had done.
Then, without even a full second of self-reflection, you proceeded to ask if he could somehow let you be a little closer to Fr. Jeon.
Your priorities were clearly a work in progress.
“Sana, are you gonna visit the church this week?” you asked with a small smile, falling into your usual habit of checking with her.
For the past few weeks, your afternoons and weekends had quietly reshaped themselves around her schedule.
It had become something strangely comforting… helping wherever you could, spending hours in a place that once felt unfamiliar but was now slowly turning into routine.
But of course, you couldn’t deny that recently, there was another reason woven into it too.
“Nope,” Sana replied as she hugged her books closer to her chest. “I have to study this week. Finals are coming up, and I still have a chemistry exam to review for before vacation starts.”
You groaned softly and walked beside her as the two of you left the campus. “Then why don’t we just stop by for a bit? To pray for good grades?” you suggested, lifting a brow as if it was the most logical solution in the world.
Please. Please. Please agree with me.
Sana pouted, clearly considering it for a moment, and your heart almost stopped in anticipation. Then she shook her head slowly, and your excitement deflated instantly.
“You’re right,” she said gently, “but it’s a long test, Y/N. I need to review all week. God would understand.”
She smiled softly and slipped her arm through yours. “Let’s just pray at home and do the rosary before reviewing.”
You forced a small smile, though your shoulders sagged slightly at the realization. It wasn’t just a missed church visit—it was a missed chance, even if you kept telling yourself it wasn’t supposed to be about that.
Sure, you would probably still see Fr. Jeon at sunday mass. He was the new presider in the city now, after all.
But it still wasn’t the same.
You almost groaned when you found yourself at the church that saturday morning. You were wearing a cream-colored dress, kitten heels, and a rosary necklace you had recently bought for the sole purpose of impressing Fr. Jeon. You had no idea whether he would even notice it, but in your mind, it felt like the kind of thing a good church girl would wear.
Preposterous.
Sashaying your way inside, you took in the usual parishioners and volunteers already busy arranging boxes for the charity drive.
You bit your lip. This was your first time visiting the church without Sana. Still, as you walked in, you were relieved when a few volunteers recognized you.
Thank God and all the saints.
You smiled and bent down to help with the boxes, already familiar with the routine—carrying them to the truck, sorting old clothes and toys, or helping with the lists.
If any of your uni friends saw you here alone, they would be completely confused. Without Sana, your sudden appearance at church would make absolutely no sense.
“Good day, Fr. Jeon.” someone greeted, and your ears immediately perked up. You turned just in time to see him entering the church halls in his usual black long sleeves and slacks.
You were only on your third box today! He was early!
Your lips curled into a small, excited smile as you instinctively stepped closer, box still in hand, already anticipating the familiar greeting and gentle pat on the head.
“Good day,” he said as expected, offering a polite nod before his hand lifted to pat your head.
Your eyelashes fluttered.
But instead of letting him move on to greet the others…for the first time in the past few weeks, you actually gathered the courage to stop him.
“Uh, Fr. Jeon?” you called softly just as he was about to turn away.
He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Yes, sweetheart?”
Jesus– God in heaven.
Your cheeks instantly reddened at the nickname, fingers tightening around the box. Still, you forced yourself to breathe, and finally blurted out the question you had been rehearsing all night.
“Just wondering if you have any c-chapter recommendations? I’m currently reading the bible and I don’t know where to start,” you said shyly.
There was a brief flicker of pleasant surprise on his face, quietly impressed that you were asking about the bible in the first place. It wasn't often that someone approached him with genuine curiosity about scripture.
He was about to answer when, suddenly…his attention shifted.
His gaze drifted downward, landing on the rosary hanging around your neck—the small cross resting between your breasts.
His lips pursed. “Sweetheart…rosaries are not meant to be worn as necklaces,” he chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on the rosary before looking back at you.
Your eyes widened. “I-It’s not…?” you asked, your ears and neck already heating in embarrassment.
Fuck. You didn’t know that!
Fr. Jeon exhaled gently. “It’s a prayer tool,” he explained, his tone patient and calm. “Meant to be held in the hands… used in prayer, not displayed like jewelry.”
You blinked. “I-I didn’t know,” you admitted quickly, almost defensively. “I just really… like rosaries.”
Deception.
Fr. Jeon sighed softly, then lifted a hand to gently pat your head. “It’s okay…if you want, you can still wear rosary bracelets.” he offered you a small, reassuring smile.
You almost melted at his kindness. “R-Right, that would be better,” you said shyly, barely keeping yourself together.
He chuckled softly at your reaction, adjusting his glasses before finally returning to your original question. “If you’re reading the bible,” he added at last, “start with the gospels. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.”
You nodded quickly, smiling up at him as he returned a warm, genuine smile of his own.
“Noted, Fr. Jeon.” you smiled, unconsciously stepping a little closer. “...Uhm, d-do you have a bible in your office, Father?” you asked shyly, doing your best to sound innocent and academically curious.
The moment the question left your mouth, you almost mentally slapped yourself.
Of course he has a bible in his office!
You opened your mouth, ready to rephrase the question, to save yourself from the embarrassment of sounding so foolish—but Fr. Jeon answered before you could.
“I do have a few bible collections in my office…would you like to see them?” Fr. Jeon offered, gesturing gently toward the church office.
You dropped the boxes. “Oh, my-”
Your plan actually worked!
Your eyes widened in horror. Mortified, you immediately bent down to pick them up, only to find Fr. Jeon already reaching for them.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he chuckled softly, lifting the boxes with ease as if they weighed nothing. “Let me carry these.”
“S-Sorry, it was kinda heavy,” you reasoned out, your neck already turning red. You still couldn’t believe you were actually having a full conversation with him.
And now he was even taking you to his office!
The Lord had truly answered your prayers.
With a polite smile, Fr. Jeon handed the boxes to the truck before gesturing for you to follow him toward the office.
“I can let you borrow a few scriptures if you’d like. I have the new version of the bible—would you want that?” Fr. Jeon asked as he reached into his pocket for his office keys.
You nodded immediately, hands clasping together behind your back. “Uh, yeah. That would be heavenly!”
Heavenly? For Christ’s sake, Y/N.
Fr. Jeon only smiled at that, unlocking and opening the office door as if he were letting you step into a space you had no right to be so excited about.
Pious.
You had done your research last night—it had been difficult since he was such a private person, but you had managed to learn a few things.
Fr. Jeon had been ordained only six months ago and was now officially assigned as the priest of your city’s parish, something you were embarrassingly looking forward to.
He was twenty-eight. He had studied arts before eventually pursuing theology. There were only a handful of photos of him online…mostly seminarian group pictures, a few formal ones where he wasn’t wearing his usual cassock, though he was always in long sleeves.
You had even found one rare image where he had rolled his sleeve slightly during a group photo, revealing part of a tattoo on his arm beneath a white long-sleeve shirt and a cross necklace.
“Fuck… he’s hiding all that under his sleeves?” you had muttered to yourself last night, squinting at the screen and trying to find more…only to realize there was barely anything else. No social media, no casual photos, nothing.
“Take a seat here. I’ll get the books for you,” Fr. Jeon said now, smiling as he gestured toward the small couch in front of his desk.
You nodded and sat down obediently, trying very hard to look like a good parish girl.
His office was quiet and orderly in a way that immediately made you straighten your posture. The walls were lined with wooden bookshelves filled with thick religious texts, bible editions, theological commentaries, and neatly stacked parish documents. A simple desk sat against one side, organized and uncluttered, with a few folders, a pen holder, and a small lamp.
In the center of the room, mounted on the wall above the desk, hung a large crucifix—christ on the cross—watching over everything in silent stillness. The soft light from the window fell across it gently, making the entire room feel even more solemn, almost sacred.
Yet your thoughts were nowhere near sacred. You were here to attempt a very dangerous, carnal sin.
Seduction.
Masked in your perfect good-girl appearance, wondering if you could crack that unshakable composure he wore so effortlessly—if you could make his calm, holy restraint finally slip.
You slowly stood up from the couch while his back remained turned, focused on his bible scriptures. Your head tilted slightly as you tried to make it look as innocent as possible…to enter his space without revealing your true, sinful intentions.
“Fr. Jeon,” you called softly, standing too close behind him.
You needed to converse, to interact with him, to get him interested—to show him how much you adored God as much as he did.
“Hmm?” He didn’t glance at you, still focused on the scriptures.
You pouted, slowly taking a peek at what he was doing. “I was wondering if I could just read the bible here instead of borrowing it….” you attempted softly. “That way, if there’s something I don’t understand… I can ask you about it right away.” you said in a sweet, suggestive tone.
Fr. Jeon glanced at you, subtly stepping back when he realized you were right behind him, your vanilla scent brushing his senses.
He paused for a moment, looking into your hopeful eyes.
“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, a small smile appearing on his face. “That's actually a good idea. Understanding scripture is easier when you can discuss it with someone. If I'm here, feel free to ask me anything you're confused about.”
Providence.
You smiled brightly, feeling your relationship with him finally take another step forward.
“That would be great! Thank you, Fr. Jeon,” you said, tilting your head and giving him one of your most charming smiles.
It was absurd.
After your finals, you were granted a two-month semestral break, and instead of using that time to party, travel with friends, or go on night outs, you had spent nearly all of it at the church.
Sana, unfortunately, never questioned your growing interest. She was too kind to question your faith.
Over the next few weeks, your afternoons were spent in the parish office, reading scripture, flipping through commentaries, and waiting for the familiar sound of the office door opening.
During those weeks, you managed to have a few small talks with him whenever he stopped by. You learned that he visited the church every day…sometimes to pray, sometimes to help with ongoing charity work, hear confessions, or simply check on the church office before moving on to his next responsibility.
Hearing about his schedule made you quietly adjust your own, ensuring you arrived at the office around 3 p.m.—the time he usually came in to check mails and paperwork at his office.
Today, you were wearing a baby blue dress that flowed nicely around your ankles, trimmed with delicate lace at the hem. Your hair was tied in a half ponytail with a blue ribbon, your makeup subtle, and your kitten heels matching the softness of your outfit.
Sana didn’t come with you every day anymore—she had other “holy” activities outside the church, like charity visits, helping at retreat houses, touring other churches, and even climbing mountains to visit shrines and statues.
You had politely declined most of those invitations, telling her you found comfort in staying within your church’s city.
Disingenuous.
The rhythm between you had become almost routine. You would come to the office in the afternoons, sit down with a bible, and quietly read while asking him occasional questions whenever something didn’t make sense.
Fr. Jeon would remain at his desk, either going through papers or reading his own scripture in silence. The room would stay mostly quiet, filled with the soft turning of pages and the steady presence of his focus, as if the world outside didn’t quite reach either of you in that space.
Sometimes you would try to steer the conversation a little further, testing small openings beyond scripture, but it always naturally circled back to the same things—bible passages, God, charity work, church matters… anything within that same unspoken boundary of the holy.
Yet, that alone felt like a privilege—being allowed into the quiet rhythm of his office, as if you belonged there too.
“Good day, Fr. Jeon. I brought some snacks for you,” you said with a smile as you entered the church’s office.
As usual, he was sitting at his desk, wearing his framed glasses while reading some papers.
You walked toward him and held up a small box of cookies you had gladly baked. “I made these…kind of like a thank-you gift for letting me stay here in the office,” you said proudly.
During your free time, you had spent the entire afternoon baking cookies for Fr. Jeon, thinking it would be a nice thank-you gift for him. At first, you had even wanted to decorate them with cute frosting faces of Jesus, convinced it would make you look extra devoted in his eyes.
Unfortunately, after staring at your frosting bag for ten minutes, you realized it might look a little too....performative.
So, with great reluctance, you abandoned your tiny Jesus-face cookie idea and settled for regular chocolate chip cookies instead.
The result sat neatly inside the box you now held out to him, carefully packed and decorated with far more effort than necessary.
Fr. Jeon looked at the cookies, his head tilting slightly when he noticed the box was covered in heart stickers. A soft smile formed on his lips, quietly touched by your kindness.
“That’s very kind of you, sweetheart.” he said softly, taking the box before looking up at you from his swivel chair. “Thank you, Y/N.”
Your cheeks flushed, making you feel like a schoolgirl finally noticed by your crush.
“No worries, Fr. Jeon… besides, I really like reading the bible here! it feels comforting,” you said, leaning in slightly as if to emphasize your point. “And thank you… you really help me understand it better when I get confused,” you added softly, fluttering your lashes at him.
He blinked slowly, clearly caught off guard by your sweet smile and the way you leaned in, his usual composure faltering for a brief moment as he paused.
“No...no problem sweetheart.” he said with a small smile. “I’m… glad you find comfort here. God will always find a way to comfort our souls.”
You smiled sheepishly and sat down on the small couch in front of his desk. “Hmm, I know…I always pray whenever I’m overwhelmed, somehow talking to God really helps me.” you said thoughtfully, even if you had only learned those kinds of phrases from Sana.
Fr. Jeon nodded quietly, he didn’t expect you to be this devoted.
You were very pure, kind, and charming. He had always noticed you volunteering at the church with your friend Sana—you would help with the boxes, sit around during her choir sessions, sometimes simply sit in the pew as if the presence of the church alone was enough for you.
It wasn’t hard to notice you. You were pretty and graceful, always smiling at everyone, carrying a soft, composed presence whenever he saw you at the church in your long skirts and modest blouses—like a quiet image of devotion itself.
Despite that, his eyes never lingered.
Always composed, always measured…because anything longer than a passing glance felt like something he shouldn’t allow himself.
Ever since you asked him about the bible that day, he had been quietly amazed. Nowadays, very few people showed genuine interest in scripture, let alone someone your age.
Seeing your devotion—or what he believed was devotion…filled him with a warmth he hadn't expected. It was rare to meet someone so eager to learn more about God.
What he didn't realize was that your sweet, holy little plan had been working all along.
And what you didn't realize was that your sweetness, your smiles, your carefully built innocence—had been working from the very beginning.
You were so focused on the fact that his eyes never lingered, so convinced that he remained untouched by your presence, that you failed to see the subtle effect you had already left behind.
“What do you do during your free time, Fr. Jeon?” you asked casually one friday afternoon, trying your best to sound merely curious rather than interested.
You had spent weeks keeping your questions safely within the boundaries of scripture. Careful not to reveal how badly you wanted to know the man behind the collar.
So you kept your tone light and innocent, as though it were nothing more than a harmless question that had happened to cross your mind.
Fr. Jeon's head tilted slightly. He was sitting across from you at the small coffee table inside his office, a bible resting in his hands just like yours.
“I visit charities,” he answered lightly. “I usually stay there for a while and spend time with the children.” a fond smile crossed his face at the memory.
Your lips parted. Oh! still religious.
“How about you, sweetheart?” Fr. Jeon asked.
You quickly searched for a suitably holy answer. “Umm, I-I sometimes climb mountains to visit shrines and blessed statues,” you said, biting your lip as you recalled one of Sana's favorite religious activities.
Fr. Jeon nodded thoughtfully, visibly impressed…his expression softening as if genuinely moved that you spent your free time in service of the Lord.
“What a good girl you are,” he said softly.
His eyes lifted to meet yours for a brief moment—just long enough to make your heart stumble…before he looked away first, a small smile forming on his lips that he quickly hid as he lowered his gaze back to the bible.
Your lips parted slightly, warmth rushing to your cheeks at the compliment.
Good girl. Oh to be called his good girl.
Even though Sana had been busy lately with her other holy activities, you didn't mind attending mass alone. In fact, you were more than happy sitting in the front row.
Your eyes would sparkle whenever Fr. Jeon spoke, your heart thumping whenever his gaze swept across the congregation and briefly met yours.
It always felt like a small victory, as though he was finally acknowledging you, finally noticing you.
“The Body of Christ.” Fr. Jeon held up the host.
“Amen,” you replied softly.
Unlike before, however, his gaze briefly lowered to meet yours. It lasted only a moment, accompanied by a small smile, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.
Enthralled.
Little by little, the distance between you seemed to shrink. The walls around him no longer felt quite as impenetrable as they once had.
Overtime, you had finally managed to crack through the edges of his usual reserve. What started as strictly scripture and charity talk had slowly, almost imperceptibly, begun to shift into something more personal.
You learned how he first became interested in the priesthood, how his mother had served in the church, and how deeply devoted his family was to their faith. You even found the courage to ask about his tattoos, discovering they came from his love for art long before he pursued theology.
In return, you had shared little pieces of yourself as well—your hobbies, your favorite things, your likes and dislikes. Of course, you were careful to sprinkle in a little extra holiness whenever you could, always eager to impress him and maintain the image he seemed to have of you.
Fr. Jeon enjoyed your presence. It was refreshing to converse with someone who seemed to share the same interest and devotion that he held so dearly.
As the weeks passed, he found himself quietly looking forward to your visits, anticipating the familiar sound of your voice drifting into his office each afternoon. After all, you had always been naturally playful and talkative, and somehow… your constant babbling had become a welcome part of his routine.
It had been a month since you started spending your afternoons in his office. Upon entering, you found him sitting at the coffee table instead of his desk. Scattered across the table were several small boxes in different colors.
Curious, you stepped inside, your usual box of homemade cookies in hand—the same kind you brought him every week.
“What’s that, Fr. Jeon?” you asked, taking a seat across from him and placing the cookies on the table.
Fr. Jeon looked up and smiled. “When's your birthday, sweetheart?”
You blinked, a question that was out of the blue—like you were on a date, and he was casually getting to know you.
Your cheeks immediately flushed, you told him your birth date, unable to hide the slight confusion in your voice.
Fr. Jeon nodded thoughtfully before reaching for one of the small boxes on the table.
There were twelve of them in total, each a different color. Pink, purple, green, blue, yellow, and several others.
“This would be your birthstone color then,” he said with a fond smile, handing you the box that matched your birth month.
Confused, you picked up the box and slowly opened it.
A small rosary bracelet rested inside.
Your heart began thumping so loudly you could hear it in your ears as you remembered the conversation from weeks ago…when he had gently corrected you and told you that rosaries weren't meant to be worn as necklaces.
“T-This is for me?” you asked, eyes wide and sparkling.
Fr. Jeon smiled softly. “Yes, sweetheart. I didn't know your birthday, so I bought all twelve colors,” he admitted with a small chuckle, glancing at the remaining boxes on the table.
It was such a simple gift, yet your heart fluttered stupidly in your chest. Somehow, this meant more than the flowers, chocolates, teddy bears, and expensive jewelry your admirers had given you before.
Before you could stop yourself, you rose from your seat and threw your arms around him.
Fr. Jeon froze in surprise, his eyes widened as you suddenly closed the distance between you. The force of the hug nearly made him lose his balance in the chair as your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.
“Thank you, Fr. Jeon...so sweet of you.” you murmured, overwhelmed with happiness.
He gulped harshly. It had been a long time since he had been touched by a woman.
Not accidentally in a crowded place. Not a polite handshake after mass. Not a brief greeting exchanged out of courtesy.
A long time.
His heart raced against his ribs as your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Your hot breath fanned softly against his collar, carrying the familiar scent of vanilla that had become impossible for him not to recognize. The closeness was overwhelming in a way he hadn't expected, making him painfully aware of how little physical affection existed in his life.
His hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before gripping the edge of the table instead. Every instinct told him to return the gesture, to place a comforting hand against your back and reassure you, but he remained still, forcing himself to hold onto his composure.
“You're welcome, sweetheart.” Fr. Jeon rasped, his voice coming out rougher than usual.
When you finally pulled away, you smiled brightly and sat back down in your chair, immediately slipping the bracelet onto your wrist.
Meanwhile, he remained frozen for a moment, trying to swallow away the lingering awareness of your closeness. The warmth of your embrace, your breath against his collar, the brief press of your breasts against him.
The hug had been innocent, sweet and harmless.
Which only made it worse.
Because he had no reason to be affected by it at all. He found himself quietly unsettled by the fact that he had needed to restrain himself in a moment that should have been nothing more than simple gratitude.
Temptation.
The next day, you proudly wore the rosary bracelet he had given you. You had even chosen a dress that matched its color, complete with a ribbon in your hair to tie everything together.
When you entered his office, you found Fr. Jeon standing by the bookshelves, a scripture in one hand. His glasses rested low on his nose as he read through a passage.
Immediately, you raised your wrist and showed off the bracelet. “Look,” you said with a grin.
Fr. Jeon glanced down, you were already twirling in place, eager to show him how the bracelet matched your dress.
Pretty.
The thought came so naturally that he frowned at himself.
“Good day, Y/N.” he replied, forcing his attention away from the observation.
You smiled brightly and wriggled your wrist. “I matched the bracelet with my dress and ribbon, see?”
Turning in a small circle again, you proudly showed off the entire outfit.
Fr. Jeon watched for a brief moment before lowering his gaze. Lately, he had become far too aware of things he shouldn't be noticing.
How pretty you looked whenever you walked into his office, how your face lit up whenever you talked to him, how easily your excitement filled the room.
Even your long dresses—soft fabric falling gently to your ankles, lace details tracing along the edges…began to feel distracting in a way he could not fully explain or justify.
Turning innocent things into distractions. The modesty that should have protected his thoughts was beginning to have the opposite effect, making him painfully aware of the woman hidden beneath layers of fabric and lace.
Perhaps it was because it had been so long since he had allowed himself to be this close to a woman. Years spent in seminaries, rectories, church offices, and ministry had made him accustomed to a life of distance and discipline. He had grown comfortable in it.
Until you.
“Glad you like it, sweetheart,” he said at last, forcing a small smile before returning his attention to the scripture in his hands.
It was easier to focus on the page than on the way you were still standing there, smiling at him as if he had just given you the greatest gift in the world.
You giggled and stepped a little closer. “You know, I didn’t remove the bracelet yet… I’m planning on wearing it forever.”
Fr. Jeon raised a brow at that, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
“Really?” he asked, unable to hide the delightfulness in his voice.
“Yes! I didn’t even remove it when I took a bath,” you giggled, smiling at him with pure adoration.
His brows furrowed slightly at what you had just said, but before he could stop himself, a faint flush crept across his cheeks.
Test of faith.
His mind betrayed him for a brief second, wandering toward the image of you showering while still wearing the bracelet he had given you, carefully keeping it on even then. The thought was so sudden and inappropriate that he immediately felt ashamed.
He gulped harshly, disappointed in himself. He would have to repent later and ask the Lord for forgiveness for allowing such a crude thought to cross his mind.
Fr. Jeon could not entertain that desire. It was forbidden, a temptation that needed to be buried and forgotten before it could take root.
Yet despite the turmoil quietly unfolding inside him, he weakly reached over and gently patted your head.
His heart immediately thumped against his ribs when your eyes lifted to meet his, shining with unmistakable adoration at the simple gesture.
You beamed at him...letting out a small, delighted giggle that softened the moment even further.
Craving.
The past few weeks had been exhausting. As the city's new presider, he had been buried beneath paperwork and responsibilities. The church had also been flooded with parishioners seeking confession, and the lines seemed to grow longer with each passing day.
Hundreds of voices had passed through the confessional since then, each carrying their own sins, burdens, and regrets. Most of them faded from memory the moment absolution was given.
Yours hadn't.
Fr. Jeon leaned back in his chair and stared at the crucifix hanging on the office wall. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the room.
He had spent years strengthening his faith, disciplining his mind, and dedicating himself entirely to the Lord. Yet lately, all it took was a sweet smile, an innocent touch, or the sound of your voice to shake that discipline.
Closing his eyes, he lowered his head.
"Lord, forgive me," he murmured quietly.
A threat to his devotion.
-
“Ouch, fuck,” you groaned, pulling the tray of cookies out of the oven.
You were baking a fresh batch for Fr. Jeon today, trying out a larger baking tray than usual so you could make more cookies at once. Unfortunately, the experiment immediately backfired.
As you bent down to take the tray out, the hot metal edge accidentally brushed against your inner thigh. You winced, pouting as you watched your skin slowly turn red.
“This looks so bad,” you murmured, setting the tray of cookies down on the counter.
Luckily, you had been wearing long skirts these days.
Prepping the boxes of cookies you had baked, you decided to wear a purple long lacey skirt paired with a cute ruffled top. Your hair was styled into low pigtail braids, each tied with a ribbon at the ends. Holding the box carefully, you frowned slightly when you felt the bandage rubbing against your swollen skin.
“Good day, Fr. Jeon, I got you cookies!” you beamed.
You noticed he had become even busier after being appointed as the city’s official presider, though you didn’t realize he had been deliberately drowning himself in paperwork—anything to keep his thoughts from drifting where they shouldn’t.
“Good day, Y/N,” he replied, glancing up for only a brief moment to return your smile before his attention went back to the documents in front of him.
You frowned slightly and placed the box of cookies on the table in front of him. “Got you a different flavor! It’s red velvet this time,” you said, pointing at the box with a small, proud smile.
Fr. Jeon glanced at them, warmth flickering in his chest before he quickly pushed it down.
“Thank you, Y/N… that’s very kind of you,” he said gently, his tone careful, as though he was trying to place distance even while accepting your kindness.
You pouted almost immediately. The response felt far too brief for someone who had spent the morning baking for him.
Wanting his attention back on you, you shifted your weight and played with the ends of your braid, searching for something that would pull his focus away from the paperwork on his desk.
“You know… I even got burned earlier because I used a bigger tray and it hit me,” you said with a small chuckle, watching him carefully for a reaction. “But it’s fine, I’m just worried it might leave a mark,” you added with a light giggle, unable to hide the hopeful note in your voice as you waited for him to look at you again.
That got his attention immediately.
His brows furrowed as he looked up from the papers, concern breaking through the careful distance he had been trying to maintain. His eyes instinctively moved to your hands, searching for any sign of injury.
“Where is it? Let me see,” Fr. Jeon said, the concern in his voice unmistakable. His gaze lingered on your fingers and wrists, unable to find the burn he was looking for.
You had to fight the smile threatening to appear.
Slowly, you made your way around the table until you were standing beside him. From his swivel chair, he tilted his head back to follow your movement, his attention still fixed on your hands.
“It’s not there, Fr. Jeon…” you said softly. “Here...”
A small giggle escaped you as you gently lifted the hem of your long skirt.
His eyes widened instantly, panic flashing across his face before he could hide it. Before you could lift your skirt any higher, his hand shot forward on instinct, wrapping around your wrist to stop you.
“W-What are you doing?” he asked, nearly choking on the words.
The reaction was immediate, almost alarmed, as though the sight of you standing there with your hands on your skirt had caught him completely off guard. His grip wasn't harsh, but it was firm enough to halt your movement, his composure visibly rattled.
“I burned my thighs, Fr. Jeon… see?” you said innocently, lifting the fabric just enough to reveal the bandage wrapped beneath.
His lips parted at the sight, momentarily stunned.
The bandage sat against your soft thighs, the realization of how close he was to something so private making his mind go blank for a second.
He had never seen so much of you like this before—not this close, not this exposed in such an unguarded, unexpected way.
Your thighs looked so soft, pink and smooth… faintly marked by the redness around the bandage, drawing attention to how tightly you had wrapped it.
“It hurts a little,” you pouted, pointing at it.
His throat tightened as he swallowed hard, his gaze immediately faltering. Behind his glasses…his pupils were dilated, his ears and neck flushing red. His hands gripped the sides of his swivel chair tightly, as though grounding himself in place.
“Y-You wrapped it wrong,” he managed to say at last, his voice strained. He cleared his throat and forced his attention elsewhere, brows furrowing as he tried to recover his composure.
You tilted your head. “I did?” you looked down, trying to check your bandage when he suddenly stood up.
“I-I have a first aid kit in my cabinet. Sit in my swivel chair...I-I’ll wrap it for you,” he said quickly, already turning away from you as if creating distance would steady him. Without waiting for another reaction, he walked toward the cabinet near the bookshelves.
You bit your lip. “Okay…”
You obediently sat down in his swivel chair, a small, satisfied feeling flickering in your chest when you noticed how concerned…and slightly flustered—he seemed.
When he returned, he was holding a small first aid kit. Your breath caught slightly when he suddenly knelt in front of you.
“L-Lift your skirt, please.” he said, his tone firm but strained, his brows drawn together as he deliberately avoided looking too directly while waiting for you to comply.
Your heart stammered, green thoughts flowing inside your filthy brain.
With shaky, anticipatory hands, you lifted your skirt up to your inner thighs, purposefully raising it a little higher than necessary.
When he looked at your exposed thighs, his breath hitched. He tried to remain as calm as possible, forcing himself to focus. Slowly, he reached for the bandage, almost flinching when he felt the softness of your skin beneath the rough pad of his fingers.
“It’s too tight,” he said breathily, his hands trembling as he unwrapped the bandage from your thigh.
“Is it?” you said softly, watching the way his lips were slightly parted, his expression focused and controlled.
When the burn was finally exposed, his brows furrowed. “You should be more careful, Y/N.” he said quietly.
He took a small tube of ointment from the kit, applying a bit to his index finger before carefully spreading it over the burn.
You winced slightly at the contact, while his attention remained fixed and steady as he worked.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice lower than usual as he briefly checked your reaction before focusing back on the injury.
You bit your lip. “J-Just a little bit.”
He sighed harshly at that, gently rubbing the ointment in with steady movements, though you could see beads of sweat slowly forming on his forehead.
“Just a little more,” he murmured almost under his breath, applying another layer of ointment. His control was thinner now, each movement more deliberate than the last, as if he was carefully holding himself together.
When he took the new bandage, he wrapped it carefully around your burn with precise, practiced hands. Once he was done, he immediately adjusted your skirt, smoothing it down with controlled efficiency…perhaps a little too quickly, as though creating distance from the moment itself.
When he stood up, you could see it more clearly now: the restraint in his posture, the tension in his jaw, the way his composure wasn’t as effortless as before. He looked like he was actively holding himself back from something, grounding himself before it showed too much.
“Thank you,” you said warmly, smiling up at him.
He looked down at you, tilting his head slightly at how innocent you appeared with your ribbons and braids.
Forbidden.
That night, Fr. Jeon fell into the forbidden temptation he had been trying so hard to resist.
It was ten o’clock, yet he remained inside the church office, refusing to leave the premises until his mind and soul were free of guilt.
Frustrated, he buried himself in scripture, but his thoughts kept drifting back to your soft, beautiful thighs and the rosary bracelet on your wrist that had stirred such sinful thoughts within him.
“Forgive me,” he muttered under his breath, his tattooed hand sliding down his slacks to palm his hardening cock.
His lips parted. It had been a very long time since he had touched himself...he had almost forgotten how good it felt. With a shaky breath, he slowly stroked his growing erection, murmuring apologies and curses beneath his breath.
He nearly rolled his eyes back at the sensation. It felt far too good. His cock hardened with alarming ease at the mere thought of you.
Lust.
With trembling hands, he slowly pulled his cock free from his slacks. It was thick and pulsing, a bead of precum already forming at the swollen tip.
When his tattooed hand squeezed the base, more fluid gathered at the head, coating his throbbing shaft.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered under his breath, a groan escaping him as he rediscovered how good it felt to touch himself after so long.
It was sinful. Dirty.
He was still inside the church office, dressed in his usual black clerical shirt with its roman collar. Scripture lay open on his desk, and his glasses had begun to fog from the heat of his breath.
It had been years. He could no longer remember the last time he had touched a woman, nor the last time he had thought of one this way. When he devoted himself to the Lord, he had promised never to indulge in such acts again.
The longer he had restrained himself, the better it felt to finally release that tension after so many years. His cock almost ached. Thick and veiny, it twitched whenever he rolled the foreskin down.
“God, help me.” Fr. Jeon moaned shamelessly, jerking himself in slow, deliberate strokes, determined to savor every second of it.
He gathered spit in his mouth and let it trickle down his aching shaft. The added lubrication drew a groan from him. He bit down hard on his lip as the realization struck him once more—how good this felt, how much he had missed touching himself.
His thoughts drifted to you.
He imagined your sweet confession about still wearing the rosary bracelet he had given you... even while bathing. The thought lingered longer than it should have, unfurling in his mind as he pictured your small, delicate hands gliding a bar of soap across your soft skin. The rosary would brush against your chest with every movement, the beads shifting and sliding as you washed your nipples.
And then his thoughts wandered further, painting one image after another—your inner thighs, the way the beads might accidentally graze your soft skin as you shower. Each vision arrived unbidden, more vivid than the last, and far more difficult to suppress.
A sacred desire.
He was leaking more and more with every thought of you. The only sound echoing through the office was the wet rhythm of his hand jerking along his hard leaking cock.
Curious, he gathered a bead of precum between his thumb and index finger and brought it to his lips. The taste was salty, thick, and strangely addicting.
“Oh, God,” he groaned, collecting more of it only to taste himself again.
Your forbidden thighs.
The softness of them. The way he had been close enough to imagine burying himself in their warmth. The way they flushed pink beneath his touch. The way they looked so plump and beautiful, tempting thoughts he should never have entertained.
He imagined pressing kisses along your legs, lingering there as though each touch were an act of devotion. He imagined how soft your pussy would feel beneath his lips, how he would part your folds just to stare at your glistening cunt, worshipping it with the reverence of a prayer.
Fr. Jeon was close to climaxing, using memories of your past interactions to fuel his sinful fantasies. His hand was slick with saliva and precum, his thighs tensing as he struggled to hold himself back. He tried to edge himself, to prolong the moment, because the sensation felt far too good after so many years of restraint.
Your body. Even beneath your long dresses and modest blouses, he could tell you were beautiful.
It shamed him that it had been one of the first things he noticed when he saw you wearing that rosary. The way your chest filled out your modest clothing. The way your waist appeared so delicate beneath layers of fabric. The way he found himself wondering what was hidden beneath all that lace and decency.
It was a sin he was terrified to acknowledge. A sin he was terrified to put into words.
But you were beautiful, kind, gentle, and devoted in your faith.
He wanted to fuck you.
When the shameful thought finally broke free from the restraints he had placed upon it, he came hard, his release staining the dark fabric of his slacks.
A deep groan tore from his throat as he continued to stroke himself, milking every last wave of pleasure from his body. His thumb brushed along the underside of his cock, chasing the lingering sensitivity.
“Fuck, I’m still hard,” he muttered, biting his lower lip as he glanced down at himself.
It was understandable.
After years of abstinence, it wasn't surprising that his body responded so eagerly. The restraint he had maintained for so long seemed to have shattered all at once.
Yearning.
All night, instead of losing himself in scripture, he gave in to temptation. His hand jerked shamelessly over his cock as his thoughts returned to you again and again. To every forbidden desire he had tried to suppress. To every impulse he had buried beneath prayer, discipline, and devotion.
Hours passed unnoticed.
He had so much pent-up desire, so much neglected hunger, that he remained awake until dawn, caught in an endless cycle of pleasure in jerking his insatiable cock. The office grew quiet around him while the darkness slowly gave way to morning light, yet his thoughts never strayed far from your face, your kindness, and the feelings he had spent so long denying.
And the fantasies that filled his mind were so sinful that he feared they had carried him beyond forgiveness.
“This should do it,” you giggled to yourself, wrapping the bandage poorly on purpose so he would have an excuse to fix it for you again.
Your box of cookies was already prepared, resting neatly on your lap while you held a bible in your hands and waited for Fr. Jeon.
Unfortunately, hours passed with nothing but the sound of turning pages accompanying you. You flipped through scripture after scripture, occasionally glancing toward the door, expecting him to appear at any moment.
Yet he never came.
Confused, you eventually stepped out of the office to look for him yourself. Perhaps he was outside helping with the donations or speaking with parishioners, as he often did. But after wandering around the church grounds and checking every place you could think of, you still couldn't find him anywhere.
“Where is he?” you pouted to yourself, a disappointed sigh slipping past your lips as you made your way back to his office.
By the time you returned, the warm glow of sunset had already begun spilling through the stained-glass windows.
Realizing he wasn't coming, you reluctantly decided to leave the cookies behind along with a small handwritten note. The thought alone made your chest feel strangely heavy.
“I miss him already,” you murmured, frowning at your own words.
It wasn't as if you could simply call or text him. Despite spending weeks at the church, Fr. Jeon had never given you his number, and you had never found the courage to ask for it. Perhaps it was because you preferred seeing him in person.
The idea of receiving his answers through a text message whenever you had questions about scripture felt disappointing somehow. You liked sitting across from him, listening to his voice as he patiently explained things to you. You liked the little smiles he gave you, the way his attention never seemed rushed, and the comfort that came with simply being around him.
That day left you unusually sad. It was the first time you hadn't seen him at all. Even when he was busy, he always managed to stop by, if only for a minute. No matter how much work he had, he never missed the opportunity to check on you.
Avoidance.
You came back today...hopeful that you would finally see him again and finally ask where he had been yesterday, you were instead met with confusion when he didn’t appear again. You pouted when you noticed the box of cookies you had left behind was still untouched, exactly where you had placed it.
“That’s odd, he can’t miss a bible reading,” you murmured to yourself, already accustomed to his usual routine. He always visited the church at a certain time to pray quietly and read scripture before continuing his day, and you had grown used to waiting for him during those moments.
But days passed, and he was still nowhere to be seen.
The cookies you had prepared for him began to lose their freshness, and the papers he usually kept neatly on his desk started to gather dust. A strange sense of unease settled in your chest as you tried to understand what had changed.
You asked around the church, speaking to parishioners and volunteers, hoping someone might have seen him or could explain where he had gone. But what you learned nearly broke your heart.
He was still coming to the church every day. He just arrived earlier now.
You had always known his schedule well—he used to visit his office around three in the afternoon, which was why you were always there waiting at that time. You never thought he would suddenly change it without warning.
“T-Thank you,” you managed to say, forcing a small smile when one of the parishioners finally informed you that he had been seeing Fr. Jeon every morning. You were lucky this particular parishioner stayed at the church throughout the day, otherwise you might never have learned the truth.
Still, the information left you disappointed and strangely hurt.
The fact that he was visiting every day but never acknowledged your cookies. The fact that he never even left a note to explain. The fact that you had been waiting for him all this time, dressed in your usual modest dresses, as if your presence alone meant anything to him.
Tears slowly began to gather in your eyes for reasons you couldn’t fully understand. It felt almost like being rejected without a single word, like a quiet heartbreak you hadn’t been prepared for. It seemed as though he was suddenly avoiding you.
“What did I do?” you pouted softly to yourself, walking home with slumped shoulders as you tried to wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks.
On the way, your thoughts turned over your last interaction with him. Had you been too bold? Had he noticed something in you that you thought you had hidden well? Had he finally realized that your devotion wasn’t as pure as it appeared?
The more you thought about it, the more desperate you became to see him again. And instead of wanting to reveal your true ill intentions, you found yourself wishing the opposite—that he would see how devoted you were, how deeply you admired him, how willingly you would sacrifice your dignity just to remain close to him.
Restraint.
You didn’t know that he had been avoiding you all along, because your sick plan had finally taken effect, his careful restraint crumbling like a rock under pressure.
Fr. Jeon couldn’t bring himself to face you. Even the slightest eye contact felt like it would burn through his skin, your presence alone eating away at whatever remained of his guilt until there was nothing left but discomfort and temptation.
Desperate.
You woke up early that day, preparing yourself carefully so you could see him. The constant overthinking had become unbearable, and you were convinced that seeing him would finally calm your thoughts.
Slowly, you walked through the church halls, your kitten heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Your wandering gaze passed over parishioners and silent figures lost in prayer, the morning air gentle and warm as it settled over your chaotic mind. The scent of the church—fresh flowers and holy water—was oddly soothing as you moved deeper inside.
But as you went further in, you nearly lost your balance when you noticed his office door slightly ajar.
Your heart began to pound in anticipation as you carefully approached. And when you finally looked inside, your eyes widened.
There he was.
In his usual black clerical long-sleeved shirt and roman collar, Fr. Jeon stood looking down at the box of cookies you had left a week ago.
Your heart sank at the realization that he must have seen the box of cookies days ago—and still chose to ignore it.
Taking a steadying breath, you stepped inside and gently closed the door behind you, locking it without hesitation.
“Fr. Jeon,” you said softly.
He looked up immediately, his eyes widening as though he had seen something he shouldn’t have. For a brief moment, he looked almost like he had seen a ghost. His entire body stiffened, tension tightening in his posture as he forced himself upright.
“What are you doing here?” His tone came out sharper than intended, almost accusatory, as he tried to regain control of himself by straightening his clerical collar and adjusting the bridge of his glasses.
You frowned at the reaction, slowly taking a step closer. Something in your chest cracked when you noticed how his expression shifted with each movement you made—his brows tightening, his gaze dropping as if he couldn’t bear to hold it steady on you for too long.
“You didn’t get the cookies I got you,” you said with a small pout, glancing between the box and him as if the answer should have been obvious.
Fr. Jeon bit his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment, as though needing time to steady himself.
“I was… busy,” he said, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard. He almost stepped back when you moved closer.
You tilted your head at him. “Am I taking too much of your time, Father?” you asked softly, your voice carrying a sad little pout.
Patience.
Fr. Jeon exhaled slowly and heavily, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as if trying to ground himself. Your presence alone seemed to shut down every carefully built wall he had been maintaining.
He looked down at your sad pout, and something in him nearly cracked at the sight of your sadness. For a moment, his composure faltered as fantasies surged back in, uninvited and overwhelming.
For the past few days, he had been deliberately avoiding you. He had started arriving at the church earlier, knowing you always came in the afternoon, carefully timing his routines so he would not run into you. He avoided his office as well, because every corner of it reminded him of you.
But this morning, he had come in anyway.
And the first thing he saw was the box of cookies you had left behind… along with a small note that said you missed him.
Desire.
For the past few nights, he had been jerking his cock non-stop. Ever since that first time, he couldn’t shake the feeling, couldn’t resist the urge to return to it again and again—groaning your name under his breath like a sacred prayer.
“No, sweetheart… I’m just—”
“I’m sorry… I just really like it here, and I love talking to you,” you said in a soft tone, stepping closer until he could smell your vanilla perfume, your pleading eyes pulling him deeper into your orbit.
Fr. Jeon swallowed harshly, his pulse quickening at how sweet and beautiful you looked for him.
“Sweetheart—”
“Would you like me to leave?” you asked quietly, biting your lower lip.
His eyes dropped to your lips. His hands curled into fists, every passing second testing his hard-earned faith and devotion.
But no...he would rather endure the torment alone, rather than risk touching your beautiful, tempting soul.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you much of my time right now. I’ve been really busy—” Fr. Jeon said with finality.
Suddenly, you rose onto your tiptoes to meet his height and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
“It’s okay, Father… I understand,” you whispered, your lips lingering dangerously close to his.
Succumbed.
Before you could pull away, his hands slid to your waist, steadying you—holding you in place more firmly than expected. You were about to look at him in confusion when he suddenly crashed his lips into yours.
Your eyes widened, your body nearly falling backward, but he held you firmly in place. His kiss was harsh and desperate—like a man starved, and you were the only water in a burning desert.
His tongue forced its way into your mouth, and the sound of his low groan sent shivers down your spine.
His brows were furrowed tightly, every bit of pent-up frustration spilling into the kiss. It was rough, consuming—his control slipping as he pulled you deeper into it, saliva beginning to spill messily between your mouths from how intensely he claimed your lips.
When he finally pulled away, his pupils were blown wide. His lips were red and swollen, his chin damp with both of your saliva.
He released your waist almost instantly, as though you had burned him.
Swallowing hard, he stared down at your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.
Oh God. What had he done?
“W-What—” you stammered, bewildered, still in shock at how easily Fr. Jeon—a priest with such a good reputation….had fallen into your lips like a man undone by weakness and lust.
Surrendered.
When you saw him step back, his brows furrowing as if he had just realized what he had done, you immediately grabbed his arms.
“I—I’m sorry, this is blasphemous, I—”
You pulled him back and kissed him again, softer this time. “I like you, Fr. Jeon. Please don’t avoid me,” you almost pleaded, tugging him down so you could reach his lips again.
His eyes widened. He shook his head immediately. “Y/N, n-no… this is wrong,” he blurted weakly, trying to grab your wrists as you pulled him closer.
Hearing those words from your mouth struck something deep in him, shaking his resolve. He couldn’t fall for you, he couldn’t kiss you, he couldn’t touch you...he couldn’t even think about you.
The only solution was to stay away—to pretend none of this had ever happened.
You shook your head. “Please, I want you so badly… there’s nothing wrong with this,” you insisted, trying to kiss him again, but he turned away. His eyes were heavy-lidded, weakened, the air in the office suddenly suffocating.
“You make me happy, Fr. Jeon… please,” you pleaded.
He shook his head firmly. “I am a priest, Y/N. This is forbidden,” he said weakly, his voice low and rough—like every word cost him something, like it was painful to say.
“But...why did you kiss me?” you pleaded.
Fr. Jeon groaned under his breath, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“Do you like me too, Fr. Jeon?” you pushed further, stepping closer, watching how much it seemed to strain him.
“Y/N, this is wrong—”
Your lips parted. “You...you like me,” you concluded when he didn’t deny it.
A small smile formed on your lips at the confirmation. Suddenly, the past few weeks made sense—the distance, the avoidance, the restraint. Everything clicked into place.
When he weakly let go of your wrists, you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, as if he had finally surrendered to you. His lips parted, his eyes clouded and hazy.
“Since when, Father?” you whispered, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
He shut his eyes tightly. The feeling of your hands on him was already enough to send him spiraling. His lack of physical affection was becoming obvious in the way his body reacted—his restraint slipping under something as simple as your soft, shallow touch.
“The first time I saw you at the church,” he whispered so low you almost didn’t catch it, as though even admitting it was a sin.
You gasped, your eyes widening at the revelation that he had noticed you from the very beginning.
“I-I thought… you didn’t recognize me. Y-You were always so busy and—”
“I did,” he cut in softly, his voice rough. “But it’s impure of me to stare at such beauty. I cannot do that.”
His gaze dropped to your lips again, weak and conflicted.
You gasped, a fond grin forming on your beautiful face. “Indeed, that’s very impure of you…Father,” you giggled.
Fr. Jeon groaned, attempting to step back again, but this time you pulled him closer and kissed him without hesitation. When you tried to part his lips with yours, you felt him shake his head, his hands gripping your waist to hold you back.
“N-No… we can’t—”
“Shh... it’s okay, Father… we’ll keep this a secret,” you whispered like a little devil in disguise, your pouty lips brushing against his again. “No one will know…”
Fr. Jeon groaned, your words sending shivers down his spine. The tension between restraint and desire tightened further.
“No, sweetheart, this is wrong… we should—”
“Please, Father…I’m already so wet.” you mumbled softly, looking at him with pleading eyes.
His eyes widened. It had been a long time since he had heard such crude words—especially coming from a pretty mouth like yours.
“T-That’s—” he stammered, his composure slipping further under the weight of you.
“Unholy?” you giggled, taking his right hand and guiding it beneath your long skirt.
His lips parted when his fingers brushed against the wet fabric of your underwear. His cheeks and ears burned red at the realization of how aroused you were.
You bit your lip, rising onto your tiptoes to whisper against his ear.
“No one will know.” you dragged your tongue along the shell of it, smiling when you heard him let out a soft, broken sound.
Blasphemous.
His lips grazed your inner thighs as his once devout, God-bound gaze now fixed on your bare, wet pussy. He knelt before you like you were some immaculate saint.
“Y-You’re so beautiful,” he said breathlessly, his fingers parting your folds and gently pulling back your hood to expose your sensitive clit.
You gasped loudly when he spat onto your center, his soft lips immediately wrapping around your clit, sucking in both his saliva and your wetness.
“Oh, God,” you moaned.
Fr. Jeon looked almost sacred between your thighs. Your skirt was bunched at your waist just enough for him to fully indulge in your pussy, while his black clerical shirt began to stain from how much you were dripping onto him. His glasses had grown slightly fogged from the heat of his breath against your body and the warmth between your legs.
He ate your pussy like a starving man, unable to get enough. His tongue pushed inside your tight cunt in search of more, drawing more juices from you, while the obscene sounds of his mouth filled the room. His throat worked with every swallow, adam’s apple bobbing as he greedily took in every drop you gave him.
“You taste so good,” he mumbled between your thighs, the vibration of his voice sending pleasure straight to your core.
You bit your lip, giggling softly while trying to keep your balance—you were leaning against his desk.
“Do you like how wet it is?” you asked, looking down at him as if amused by how much he was enjoying himself.
Fr. Jeon nodded against your cunt. “So wet and pretty,” he mumbled, sucking your clit until his cheeks hollowed, his dimples showing each time he latched on harder.
The way he ate you out was wet and messy, continuously spitting as his lips stayed locked around your clit. You gasped when he pinched your folds together, trying to eat your entire pussy into his warm mouth.
Every time you squirmed, he tightened his grip on your thighs, groaning under his breath as if he wanted to drown himself in you completely.
Whenever he pulled back to breathe, he took a moment to stare at your swollen, messy cunt—admiring it like something sacred, something almost holy in its beauty. He whispered how ethereal it was before spitting on it again and diving back in hungrily.
“H-How come you’re so good at that?” you moaned, looking down at his mouth as he remained relentless, your juices dripping down his chin.
Fr. Jeon looked up at you, adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I’ve fantasized about this,” he said with a smile. “I imagine devouring your cunt while I jerk off my cock.”
He pressed a light kiss to the top of your clit before burying his face against you again.
Your eyes rolled back at the confession, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Hmm... really? That’s ungodly, Father.”
Fr. Jeon only groaned, pressing his face deeper until you were certain he could barely breathe. “I’m only willing to surrender myself to you.”
You gasped. The way he said it felt so wrong, so forbidden, and your pussy throbbed at the thought of him willingly committing such sinful acts, of him literally being on his knees for you.
When he felt your wetness growing, he lifted his head slightly to look at your cunt. Using his index and middle finger, he spread you open, watching as more of your milky-white juices gathered.
Fr. Jeon groaned, swallowing hard at the sight of how wet and horny you had become.
“You like that, sweetheart?”
He gathered your juices, the pads of his fingers sliding down your slit and making you flinch. Your breath caught when you watched him scoop your cum onto his fingers and bring them to his mouth, tasting your sweetness. "You got so much wetter."
“Fr. Jeon, oh my—”
He continued gathering the excess wetness, scooping up your cum until he was satisfied that you were no longer dripping. His brows furrowed as he sucked the collected juices from his fingers, unwilling to let any of it go to waste.
When he finally gathered the last drop, you frowned as he rose to his feet.
For a moment, you thought he was done. Then he brought his fingers, coated with your cum, up to your mouth.
“Open up, sweetheart.” he whispered, his gaze lowering to your lips, swollen from how hard you had been biting them.
You slowly opened your mouth, moaning when he slid his fingers inside so you could taste your own juices mixed with traces of his saliva.
“You taste like sin, don’t you?” he said softly, his fingers twirling inside your mouth, nearly making you gag.
You sucked on his fingers, your cheeks hollowing eagerly as you looked up at him with expectant eyes. “Mhm. I want to taste how pure you are, then,” you said softly, sucking his fingers the way you imagined sucking his cock.
His cock twitched inside his slacks, precum already gathering at the swollen tip.
He immediately shook his head. “Want to make you cum first, sweetheart.”
Before you could protest, he was already kneeling again, his tongue out as he buried his face between your thighs as though his life depended on it. His nose brushed against your swollen clit while his tongue alternated between slow, deliberate licks and eager suction, determined to draw every reaction from you.
The moment he sensed you were getting close, he pushed his tongue deeper, determined to suck every drop. You were about to push him away from the sudden wave of oversensitivity, but his grip on you tightened.
"I wanna swallow it, please."
You bit down hard on your lip, whispering curses beneath your breath as your body tensed. Your pussy pulsed uncontrollably, heat rushing through you as release overtook your senses.
He groaned at the way your body responded to him, your pussy throbbing vigorously against his tongue.
“I-I want to pleasure you too,” you almost cried.
He didn't stop eating you, even after you came he was sucking your pussy again. He had already made you cum several times just by eating you out. Even after your fifth orgasm, he still hadn’t stopped—still devouring you, drawing out every last drop before spitting it back down onto your slit, pulling your folds apart just to watch it drip, then catching it again with his tongue as if he couldn’t get enough.
You were already overstimulated, your thighs burning from his tight grip, but every time you looked down at him, another wave of arousal surged through you. His brows were furrowed, his eyes closed, almost as if he were praying.
“Please, I want to eat your pussy more.” he mumbled, looking up at you through his glasses, his tongue teasing slow circles around your very swollen clit.
It had been hours. His knees were already red from kneeling, and your back ached from leaning against his desk, yet he still had the stamina to continue, again and again. His cheeks and chin were slick from your cum.
You could see his slacks straining…his arousal obvious beneath the fabric—but he remained focused, almost pleading when you tried to push him away, his mouth still following your spent pussy as if he couldn’t let go.
“Please… one more, sweetheart,” he begged, his thumb soothing along your inner thighs.
When you shyly nodded, he parted your legs further, scooping up what remained of your release as it dripped down. His face pressed in close, his nose brushing against you as he worked, the carpet below you already damp with a mixture of saliva and your arousal.
Unholy.
The once-simple afternoon bible sessions had turned into something far more profane.
The moment you arrived at his office and locked the door behind you, his hands were immediately around you. He would drop to his knees, pushing your panties aside so he could press his face against your wet slit, sniffing your cunt before his tongue slipped out to taste your wetness.
“Hmm… do you like my pussy, Fr. Jeon?” you whispered, fingers tangling in his hair as he indulged you.
He groaned against you, burying his face deeper. “Like it so much.”
He was always so desperate—needy, almost whiny. It was obvious how deeply his years of abstinence had affected him, how long he had denied himself even the thought of such intimacy.
Every touch carried the weight of that restraint, as though all those years of self-denial had finally found an outlet. The way he ate your pussy for hours without stopping, the way he would suck your breasts until they turned swollen and red.
Every time you tried to touch him, he would pin your hands down instead. You had never really touched him yet—he always insisted on giving first, on worshipping you instead. He would say that pleasing you was enough,that eating your cum was enough for him, that devoting himself to your body was what satisfied him most.
“Shh, sweetheart… please be quiet.” he pleaded, his middle and index finger pushing inside your cunt, knuckles deep while massaging your spongy spot.
You were certain his fingers were already wrinkled from how long he had been fingering you, your nipples swollen and sensitive from how harshly he had been sucking them while rubbing your clit.
You bit your lip, tears almost forming in your eyes from how good it felt. “S-sorry, it’s just so good,” you mumbled incoherently.
Fr. Jeon groaned. “Yeah?” He spat down where his fingers met your pussy. “Hear that, sweetheart? You’re so wet for me.” he muttered, biting your nipple harshly while his fingers continued going in and out of your wet cunt, the sounds echoing inside the church office.
You were always a whining mess. Even if he hadn’t fucked you yet, your body was constantly left exhausted from how intensely he made you cum repeatedly. Your legs were always wobbly and shaking after each round, and you would always come home with new hickeys and bruises left by his harsh mouth.
He had the stamina to go on for hours and hours, until the entire afternoon was filled with nothing but wet sounds and your filthy moans echoing through his office.
You wanted to return the pleasure so badly, but every time he begged you to eat your pussy, your knees would go weak. You always gave him what he wanted, opening your legs and spreading your cunt for him.
It was one afternoon when you decided that you wanted to please him.
He was busy sucking on your nipples when you noticed how hard he was beneath his slacks. Your eyes rolling back when you saw him almost humping the air.
With a determined groan, you gently pushed him away from you. Your nipples were already pink and swollen.
“Let me taste you,” you pleaded, pressing a kiss to his cheek before trailing down his jaw.
He protested again, trying to guide you back against the couch.
“Sweetheart—”
“Please, Father.” you begged. “You always make me cum so good. I think I’d cum even harder if I got to taste your cock.”
You couldn’t deny that he always left you more than satisfied, constantly pushing you to the edge of overstimulation. Every time it happened, you could see just how hard his cock was. Sometimes, you would even catch the subtle movements of his hips while he was buried between your thighs, completely consumed by pleasuring you.
Fr. Jeon licked his lower lip, as though contemplating whether he could truly accept the idea of you being on your knees for him. It felt like too much to bear, as if he wasn’t ready for it yet. Shamefully, he was certain he would cum the moment your lips touched his tip.
But seeing you like this—begging, your lips drawn into a sweet pout—made his resolve weaken. His eyes fluttered shut helplessly as you eagerly knelt in front of him.
“Sweetheart,” he rasped, swallowing hard.
You looked up at him before slowly leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against the bulge beneath his slacks.
A harsh groan escaped him. His cock throbbed beneath the fabric, and that simple, innocent kiss was almost enough to make him stumble.
When you pulled down his zipper, you gasped audibly at the sight of his black boxers, already soaked with a large patch of wetness from his precum.
“You’re leaking, Father,” you said with a pout, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.
He sucked in a breath, his hands curling into fists as he struggled to compose himself. You looked beautiful and completely undignified at the same time, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to resist.
Slowly, you tugged down his boxers...just enough to tuck his balls and free his hard cock.
Your eyes widened.
He was huge and pretty, twitching on his own and curving upward. Thick veins ran along his shaft, and his swollen pink tip glistened with precum.
You licked your lower lip, unable to hide your anticipation at the sight of him. Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss to the wet tip.
A strained whimper escaped him.
His hands immediately grabbed the sides of his clerical shirt, as though physically restraining himself from losing control over something as simple as your lips touching him.
“Look at me when I suck you, Fr. Jeon.” you said, raising a brow when you noticed him avoiding eye contact.
He bit his lower lip, trying to look down at you.
You gasped when his cock twitched the moment you made eye contact.
With a teasing look, you slowly sucked his mushroom tip while keeping your eyes on him, fluttering your lashes as you took him into your warm mouth.
He groaned harshly. He was about to close his eyes, but you shook your head immediately.
“Eyes on me, please.”
“Oh, God,” he whimpered, looking down at you through heavy-lidded eyes as you eagerly sucked his leaking tip.
You swirled your tongue along the underside of his cock, his eyes rolling back every time you repeated the motion. When you finally pulled away, you spat on the tip, your fingers immediately spreading your saliva and his precum along the shaft, leaving him even wetter and messier.
“Do you like how I kneel for you?” you asked before taking his tip into your mouth again, trying to take him deeper until his mushroom head brushed the back of your throat. The upward curve of his cock dragged against the roof of your mouth, drawing another whimper from him.
“Y-You look like a slut,” he blurted out through a moan, his jaw repeatedly tensing, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was fisting his shirt.
You looked up at him and nodded obediently...like a good girl seeking praise.
He bit his lower lip. “My pretty slut.”
Fr. Jeon was trying so hard not to come. He wanted to savor the feeling of your tight mouth around him for as long as possible, wanted to hold on to it, to prolong it, but you were simply too much..too pretty, too warm. Every time you took him deeper, his resolve weakened a little more.
Your eyes were already beginning to redden, your throat struggling to accommodate his thickness. Drool slipped messily down your chin, and the wet, obscene sounds coming from your mouth only pushed him closer to the edge. Each swallow, each desperate attempt to take more of him, made his chest tighten with pleasure, his restraint slipping further and further away.
Whenever you pulled back to catch your breath, you would stroke his cock quickly with your hands and spit messily onto his tip.
Before the saliva could slide down his length, you would take him back into your mouth, licking along his shaft and tracing the prominent veins with your tongue before returning to the swollen underside of his head with soft, teasing kitten licks.
Using your free hand, you reached up to cup his balls gently, applying just enough pressure to make him whimper. The movement only made it harder for him to hold himself together, especially as you continued gagging on his cock like a good little slut.
The moment you noticed him clutching his shirt again, you immediately grabbed his hand.
“Use my mouth, Father,” you whispered, guiding his hand to your hair, silently urging him to take control.
Fr. Jeon groaned and shook his head, but your eagerness never wavered. You paused, waiting patiently for him, your eyes fixed on his face.
The moment you placed your hands obediently behind your back, he nearly cursed the Lord himself.
He weakly dragged a hand through your hair, gathering it away from your face before pulling you a little closer. His jaw tightened as he looked down at you, every ounce of restraint tested by the sight of your quiet obedience.
Grabbing your hair with both hands, he guided your face toward him before finally rolling his hips, slowly thrusting into your waiting mouth.
“God, you really are a slut,” he moaned, his composure unraveling a little more with every passing second.
Whenever he pulled back, you would twirl your tongue around the underside of his crown, earning a shaky whimper from him. Then, he would push you down forcefully onto his cock, your nose hitting his pubic hair as he lost whatever restraint he had left.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, sweetheart,” he whimpered.
Your mouth was already growing tired, but you remained determined, refusing to pull away. Tears gathered in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks as you struggled to keep up with him, yet you stayed exactly where he wanted you.
When he saw the tears in your eyes, he almost stopped.
But you eagerly took him deeper, deliberately pushing forward until your face was pressed flush against his pubic hair. Your mouth struggled to accommodate his thickness, soft gargling sounds escaping despite your efforts to suppress them, yet you took everything he gave you.
“God, fuck.” his eyes rolled back as he released hot, thick cum into your mouth.
He was about to push you away when your hands tightened around the backs of his thighs, holding him firmly in place...determined not to let a single drop of his cum go to waste.
“Sweetheart,” he said weakly.
When you finally pulled away- his cock slipping from your lips, you stuck out your tongue to show him his thick, milky cum. Your lashes fluttered as you held his gaze for a moment, letting him take in the sight before you swallowed.
Delirious.
“The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Fr. Jeon stood before the congregation, one hand resting lightly against the pulpit as he prepared to proclaim the gospel.
“A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew.”
“Glory to You, O Lord,” you whispered under your breath, your sparkling eyes lifted up toward him.
You were in your usual favorite spot—in the front row, like his favorite little church girl—your hair tied with a white ribbon, a long modest dress hiding the sinful image beneath.
Every time he spoke, his eyes never lingered on you. He looked over the crowd like a devoted priest, delivering his words slowly, with quiet passion. And whenever he did happen to find you in the congregation, he would only glance past you, as if you were anyone else.
You smirked inwardly. Who would’ve known that this same priest was literally begging on his knees to eat your pussy inside the church office?
When Holy Communion came, you made sure to open the first few buttons of your dress, revealing the rosary necklace you were wearing—the small cross resting between the plush curve of your cleavage.
“The Body of… Christ,” Fr. Jeon said slowly, his eyes drifting down to the rosary wrapped around your neck, the cross sitting dangerously above your breasts.
“Amen,” you said softly, parting your lips for him.
You almost smiled in quiet victory when you saw his jaw tighten—his composure slowly, subtly fracturing beneath the weight of your sacrilegious act.
When he placed the host on your tongue, you leaned in just slightly too far, letting your tongue brush against his thumb in a fleeting, deliberate touch. So small it could be denied. So intentional it could not be mistaken.
A soft hum escaped you as you pulled back, watching the shift in him—the way his body stilled, the way his breath caught. You were already turning away when his voice followed you, low and controlled.
“Meet me after this.”
You looked up at him, briefly thrown, but his gaze had already returned to the ritual at hand, as if nothing had happened.
Delight curled through you at the sight of him unraveling so carefully in public, holding himself together by force alone while you watched the cracks form in real time.
And when you returned to your seat, you could still feel it—the difference. His voice had deepened into something sharper, more distant. His posture stiffened as he finished the mass, each word now measured, restrained, as though he were forcing himself back into place one line at a time.
Wicked.
Sitting properly on the couch in his office, you waited patiently for Fr. Jeon. It was the first time you would see each other up close after mass, and the thought alone made a soft, bubbling excitement bloom in your chest.
You even brought a small box of cookies for him, carefully balanced in your lap, as if sweetness alone could disguise the anticipation curling beneath your ribs.
When the office door finally opened, you looked up at once and smiled.
He stood there still in his liturgical vestments. Over his white alb, he wore a flowing chasuble that draped heavily over his shoulders, embroidered gold catching the afternoon light that spilled through the glass windows like something almost sacred in itself. A white stole rested beneath it all, marking him clearly as the celebrant of the mass, a figure meant to be untouchable.
He looked absolutely breathtaking—so holy, so distant, so unreachable.
And yet, you already had him like a servant—willing, obedient, on his knees for you.
When he walked toward you, his expression was serious and unyielding. You stood up quickly, excitement lifting you, holding out your small gift for him.
“Good afternoon, Fr. Jeon. I got you cooki—”
The cookies slipped from your hands as he suddenly closed the distance, his hand wrapping around your throat. The rosary beads pressed sharply into your skin.
“I told you...that rosaries are not meant to be worn around your neck, didn’t I?” he said in a mocking tone, his voice low and controlled. His eyes looked darker behind his glasses.
His liturgical vestments suddenly felt overwhelming in this close space, no longer distant or ceremonial, but imposing, almost suffocating, as if you were only now realizing the weight of him in this proximity.
You gasped as his fingers tightened slightly around your throat, not enough to hurt—just enough to demand an answer.
“Y-You did, Father.”
“Mhm. I did,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Didn’t I?”
A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the shift in him—how his composure had snapped so suddenly, as if the thin thread of his restraint, stretched in the presence of the Lord, had finally given way.
Dominance.
You gasped when he kissed you hard, cutting off your breath in an instant. His other hand bunched up the long skirts of your dress, hot palms slipping beneath the fabric to cup your warm pussy.
“You’re so impure,” he chuckled darkly, his fingers tracing over your clothed clit.
A soft moan escaped you as you tried to wriggle in his hold, but his grip at your throat kept you firmly in place.
“Sit on my desk and spread your legs,” he commanded, releasing you all at once—both your throat and your pussy.
With shaky legs, you moved toward his desk, climbing onto it and bunching your long skirt up around your waist before slowly spreading your legs wide for him.
Fr. Jeon walked toward you, his gaze fixed on the sight of you—so openly willing for him. The rosary cross rested between your breasts like a sin made visible, the white ribbons in your hair now looking almost tainted, your dress bunched up enough to expose your wet cunt to him.
His fingers closed around the rosary you were wearing. Your breath hitched as he slowly pulled it, forcing your neck to tilt forward with the motion.
“You’re such a whore, wearing this around me,” he said in a condescending tone, drawing you closer until he pressed a shallow kiss to your lips.
“I-Isn’t it pretty?” you asked weakly, still trying to tease him.
He let out a humorless chuckle. Without another word, he reached for the scripture on his desk. “I’ll show you what’s pretty.”
You gasped as he pulled the rosary again, forcing you forward while his other hand held the bible. “Open your mouth.”
Confused, you slowly obeyed, your eyes widening when he suddenly placed the book between your teeth.
“Hold still and bite the scripture,” he commanded sharply before spreading your legs wider.
You bit down hard on the book as he suddenly slapped your cunt.
“Mhmp!” you whimpered, eyes watering from the intensity of it.
Fr. Jeon raised a brow. He lifted his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, his gaze locked on you as he slowly dragged his tongue over them. You bit down harder on the book when he used his saliva-coated fingers to slap your cunt again.
“Shh, quiet, sweetheart… there are other people outside- praying,” he said mockingly, tugging lightly on the rosary around your neck.
You bit down harder when he slapped your cunt again, pulling harshly on the rosary around your neck whenever your whimpers escaped.
“Poor baby… you want me to finger you?” he cooed, slapping your cunt once more. Your panties were already soaked, your arousal building from the relentless stimulation.
You eagerly nodded, drool spilling past your lips and onto the scripture beneath you. Your neck was beginning to ache and swell each time he tugged on the beads.
“Do you deserve it?” he asked, twirling the rosary between his fingers, playing with it slowly.
A tear slipped down your cheek when he slapped your cunt again. Your thighs tried to wriggle on the table, but he only pulled harder on the rosary in response.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m finally going to give you what you want,” he said, letting go of you.
Your eyes almost rolled back when you saw him kneel.
You drooled messily against the book when he flipped your panties aside, three of his fingers immediately slipping inside you to stretch your cunt.
“So tight, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your clit while his fingers continued to thrust inside you.
Each time his fingers pulled back, a fresh gush of wetness spilled out, revealing just how needy and aroused you were.
Looking down, you saw how godly he looked—kneeling so close to your pussy, lips parted as he watched his fingers disappear in and out of your tight hole.
“Mhmph,” you whimpered, his fingers knuckles deep inside you, brushing against your spongy spot and leaving you wriggly and tingly.
“You’re so soaked, sweetheart. It’s so hard to rub you properly like this… so, so wet.”
When he saw how restless you were getting, he suddenly removed his fingers. You were about to frown when he stood up, your eyes widening as he began removing his chasuble and slacks.
“This is what you wanted, right?” he taunted, finally revealing his hard cock.
It was already thick and hard, twitching on its own before he even touched it. Prominent veins pulsed along the girth, and his mushroom tip looked swollen and flushed. Using his fingers, he squeezed the plump head, drawing out more precum before spreading it along the shaft. He slowly rolled the foreskin down, his gaze fixed on your helpless body.
“Do you want this cock inside your tight little pussy?” he said breathily, jerking his hard cock in his hand…his eyes were heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted.
You nodded eagerly, tears spilling down your cheeks from anticipation. Your pussy pulsed hard, leaking more of your arousal down onto the table beneath you.
He chuckled, gripping both of your thighs and spreading them wider for him. “Hold your skirt up, sweetheart,” he murmured, as your long skirt kept drifting down while he positioned you.
With weak hands, you slowly bunched your skirt up. Your jaw was already aching from biting down on the book, but you were determined to be a good girl for him, biting down harder as your eyes turned red and your cheeks flushed, warm and swollen.
When he positioned his mushroom tip against your slit, you almost dropped the book. The feeling of his wet cock against your folds sent a sharp jolt through you.
“Gonna fuck you now, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
Your teeth nearly ached from how hard you bit down when he suddenly pushed inside you. Your tight walls immediately sucked him in. You watched his lips part in shock, his eyes rolling back for a moment—before he could even thrust, you felt him spilling inside you.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he cursed under his breath, trembling as he suddenly came so hard inside you, his lips parting at how good your pussy felt.
You were so warm and tight that he was already convulsing. His grip on your waist tightened so hard it was almost painful. You were shocked—you hadn’t expected him to cum that quickly, but then again, it had been so long since he’d done anything like this. The pent-up frustration was overwhelming, and the moment he felt you, he was already shaking.
When you saw him trembling, you slowly removed the book from your lips. Your jaw ached, but you still managed to give him a small, weak smile.
“Mhm, am I tight, Fr. Jeon?” you whispered weakly, feeling him twitch inside you, filling you with so much cum that it had you feeling completely full.
"T-Too tight." he groaned.
His arms were growing weaker, still trying to push his cum deeper and deeper into your cunt. His cock was already overstimulated and softening, but he still wanted his cum buried deep inside you, some of it already dripping down your thighs.
He groaned, pushing his cock deeper until he was finally hard again. You could feel his mushroom tip swell once more, your pussy stretching around his thickening girth.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at you. He had come so hard he had nearly forgotten about the book he made you bite down on, his rational thoughts slipping away completely, leaving only the heat and the feeling of you.
You bit your lip, opening your legs wider. “Yeah? Do you miss having such a warm pussy around your cock?”
His lips parted...his right hand returned to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat.
“What a dirty mouth you have,” he whispered breathily, like he was only just remembering why he was fucking you so hard in the first place.
He squeezed your throat, earning a loud whimper from you.
Before you could coo at him, he was already flipping you over, bending you against his desk. He immediately grabbed the book, shoving it forcefully into your mouth.
“You think I’m done, huh?” he taunted, kneeling down behind you.
You groaned, biting down on the scripture again, whimpering loudly when you felt him spreading your wet pussy from behind.
“Push my cum out for me,” he said, opening your folds and waiting for you to push it out.
You contracted your pussy, and a gush of his milky white cum spilled from your used hole. Before it could even drip onto the floor, his tongue was already there, scooping it up and swallowing everything until no trace was left.
When he stood up, you were left a trembling mess. Your eyes widened as he pulled on the rosary necklace, the beads wrapping around your throat like a collar. He used it as leverage before pushing his cock back inside you.
“Shh… bite down on the scripture. Let it silence your impurity,” he murmured behind you, thrusting deeper and harder until your body was nearly bouncing against the table from the force of it.
You wanted to moan so badly. The way his mushroom tip kept brushing against your g-spot felt so overwhelming. When he angled his hips in slow circular motions, your weak lips finally dropped the book, and you gasped as it hit the floor with a dull thud.
The moment he felt you slipping out of control, he stopped—only for you to immediately reach for the book. Before you could even grab it, he flipped you onto your back again.
“Fucking whore, can’t follow simple instructions while my cock’s deep inside you, huh?” he taunted, ripping the buttons of your dress just enough to expose your breasts.
“I-I’m sorry, I—”
You shrieked loudly when he suddenly slapped your nipples, the area turning immediately pink.
“Stay there,” he commanded.
You went still at once, your weak eyes following his movements as he reached into the bottom cabinet of his desk.
When he stood up again, he was holding a candle and a box of matches. “Hold this, sweetheart.”
He usually used those candles during scripture readings, letting the flame illuminate the pages.
You held it for him as instructed, watching as he struck a match and lit it, the small flame flickering to life before he set the match aside.
You turned slightly, glancing toward the window. There was still daylight outside—enough to see clearly. Before you could ask what he needed it for, he took the candle from your hand.
“Fr. Jeon, w-what are you—”
Your eyes widened when he tilted the candle downward, the wax threatening to drip onto your breasts. You gasped sharply when it finally landed on your nipple.
“Does it feel good?” he whispered, lowering the candle toward the other bud.
When the hot wax fell onto your other nipple, you moaned loudly, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as pain and pleasure collided.
It was hot and shocking—yet, for some reason, the sting felt addictive, almost intoxicating.
“Y-Yes, Father.” you bit your lower lip hard, watching as the candle was now directed toward your inner thighs.
He raised a brow, your nipples already covered in white wax. “Yeah? Does this get you wet?”
Before you could answer, he was already pouring hot wax onto your left inner thigh. The pain there was sharper, more intense—like the skin was far more delicate and sensitive. When you instinctively tried to close your legs, he held them open, spreading you wider as he moved the candle to drip more wax onto your right inner thigh.
“Oh, God,” you moaned loudly, the hot wax dripping dangerously close to your wet pussy.
You were already trembling. The mix of heat and pain felt overwhelming yet addictive, tears falling uncontrollably down your cheeks.
Fr. Jeon chuckled at you. “What a pretty little pain slut… I’m supposed to punish you with this, but you’re dripping like a whore.”
He grabbed your cheeks, raising the candle up toward your face. “Make a wish,” he whispered.
You looked up at him with weak eyes, your nipples and inner thighs still burning and oversensitive from the wax. With a faint, shaky smile, you told him your wish.
“Fuck me like a slut, Fr. Jeon." you said breathily.
He growled harshly, stepping back a little to admire his work on your body, how the wax was covering your skin like a sin, how your pussy was so swollen and red, yet your hole was still eagerly twitching to be used.
He tilted his head. “You want that, sweetheart?” he said sweetly, his tone contradicting what he had just done to you.
You nodded eagerly. "Please, use my body like a whore, cum inside me until I’m dripping full of your cum, abuse my tight little pussy until I’m all loose and gaping, release all your forbidden frustrations and destroy my dignity.”
Fallen.
You couldn’t count the number of times you came around his cock that night—his cock thrusting so hard and deep inside you that you could feel how stretched your pussy was.
Every time you tried to fight him, he would push your body down onto the desk, threatening to silence you with scripture whenever you tried to break free from his hold.
When you thought he was done, he would maneuver your body again, spreading your legs wide so he could fuck you hard. His cross necklace would dangle in your face with every thrust. Whenever you moaned too loudly, he would punish you by dripping hot wax onto your inner thighs.
He would always condescendingly praise you, telling you what a poor little girl you were, letting him use you for his own sick pleasure.
"God, you'd let me use you whenever I want wouldn't you? Letting me fuck this tight pussy inside the church, like a good little christian." he would whisper.
It was so lewd when he asked you to touch yourself using the hand that wore his birthstone bracelet, urging you to part your lips for him, watching how the beads would brush over your clit every time you fucked your fingers inside your used, swollen hole.
"That's right...stretch your pussy, sweetheart. I want you nice and gaping when I fuck you again."
Then he would pull your body up, forcing you to bounce on his cock while pressing the beads deeper into your throat. He held both of your cheeks with his free hand so he could continually spit into your parted mouth, watching it drip messily down your chin like a cheap filthy whore. "I love how sinful and dirty you are...so perfect for me."
Capitulated.
You never forgot him, after that night he vanished like a wind.
When you heard that he had suddenly been appointed to another city, it felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet. Overnight, he was simply gone. The weekly sunday mass was no longer presided over by him, and no matter how many people you asked, nobody seemed to have a clear answer as to why.
All you heard were rumors.
Some said he wanted to experience ministry in a different city. Others claimed he had become so busy that he was constantly traveling between churches, handling responsibilities in several places at once. Every explanation sounded vague, rehearsed, and unsatisfying.
You wanted to believe them. But you couldn't.
For months, you carried that bitterness inside you. A part of you convinced yourself that he had simply left. That perhaps everything you shared had meant far less to him than it had to you. The thought hurt more than you cared to admit, especially because, between the two of you, you had been the dishonest one. You had been the one who approached him with hidden intentions, who slowly seduced him, who carefully led him into your snare while pretending to be an innocent church girl.
Yet somewhere along the way, things had changed.
For all your lies, for all your schemes and carefully crafted devotion, you couldn't deny what had happened to your own heart. You had fallen in love with his kindness. Not because he was a priest. Not because he was forbidden. Not because winning his attention felt like a challenge.
But because it was him.
It was the way he remembered small details about you. The way he listened whenever you spoke. The way he always treated people with patience and warmth. Somewhere between the scripture lessons, the afternoon conversations, and the countless boxes of cookies, your feelings had become real.
Then, one afternoon, a letter arrived.
Your hands trembled as you opened it, your heart pounding with a mixture of hope and dread. As your eyes moved across the page, tears immediately gathered in them.
All this time, you had believed he left because he wanted to.
The truth was far worse.
Someone had noticed. Someone had seen the way he treated you differently from everyone else—the way his gaze lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened whenever he spoke to you, the way he always seemed to make time for you no matter how busy he was. And eventually, they had discovered what happened behind the closed doors of the church office.
Tears slipped down your cheeks as you continued reading, your vision blurring with every line. For the first time since he disappeared, you finally understood why he had left.
The moment the parish discovered what had happened, he immediately apologized—to the church, to his superiors, and most of all, to the Lord. He had even offered his resignation, believing he was no longer worthy of his position.
But they refused. The parish forgave him.
They told him he was too kind, too devoted, too valuable to lose over a mistake. Instead of removing him from the priesthood, they gave him a chance to start over in a different city, far away from the rumors and whispers. They told him that what happened was a test of faith. A temptation. That God would always be stronger in his heart than any earthly attachment.
You were the temptation they spoke about.
You never wrote back, you never tried contacting him again. Because if he had truly wanted you, he would have resigned. He would have walked away from the collar, from the church, from the life he had chosen long before you entered it.
He would have chosen you.
Instead, when forced to decide between you and God, he surrendered himself to God. And that answer was enough.
With a deep breath, you entered the confession booth. You wanted to confess your sins, you wanted to move on.
It had been two years, and somehow you were still holding on to him.
Whenever Sana mentioned his name, your eyes would sting with unshed tears. Whenever you heard stories about him…how successful he had become, how respected he was as a priest now…an ache would settle deep inside your chest.
You could no longer step inside a church without thinking about him.
The stained-glass windows, the scent of incense, the quiet hum of prayer before mass. Every sacred thing had become tangled with the memory of him, until devotion and desire were no longer things you could separate.
So, with a heavy heart, you finally decided to let him go.
Sitting inside the confessional that afternoon, your fingers twisted nervously in your lap as you gathered the courage to speak.
A thin wooden partition stood between you, a barrier meant to separate priest from sinner, confession from judgment, devotion from temptation.
“Bless me, Father…. for I have sinned.” you said softly, behind the confession grille.
Your voice…soft and unforgettable, echoed through the small confessional booth.
The familiar scent of vanilla wrapped around him like a memory he had spent years trying to forget.
synopsis: When your boyfriend Soobin struggles to satisfy you in the bedroom, you both agree to see the city’s most sought-after sex therapist: Jeon Jungkook. Charming, confident, and dangerously skilled with his hands, Jungkook doesn’t just offer advice— he shows you exactly how it’s supposed to feel. What starts as clinical demonstrations quickly turns into something far more intense, with Soobin watching helplessly from the corner as Jungkook takes his time teaching your body pleasures your boyfriend never could.
warnings: smut mdni, masturbation, use of a vibrator, cuckholding, fingering, oral (f.rec.), unprotected sex, missionary, lotus, doggystyle, biting, ass eating (because @merakoo asked for it), ass slapping, hair pulling, rough sex, lots and lots of dirty talk, creampie, squirting, this is filthy as fuck, soobin x reader.
✶﹐word count: 10.5k | PART TWO
The room was quiet except for the slow, uneven sound of your breathing slowly returning to normal. You lay on your back beside Soobin, both of you staring up at the ceiling where the same faint crack in the paint had been mocking you for months now. The sheets beneath you felt sticky and warm, but the warmth wasn’t the satisfying kind that usually came after really good sex. It was just… fine. Everything lately had been fine. His hand had been gentle on your hips, his kisses soft against your neck, and when he finally came, he let out that familiar quiet groan before collapsing beside you. But you hadn’t. Not even close.
In the beginning of your relationship, the sex had been good enough to leave you content. It wasn’t mind-blowing or adventurous, but it was warm and loving and enough to make you curl into him afterward with a sleepy smile. Over the last couple of years though, things had slowly changed. The spark had dimmed into something mechanical, almost routine. You found yourself lying there more often than not, faking soft little moans so he wouldn’t feel bad, while the ache between your legs only grew more frustrated. Sometimes you wondered if he noticed how often you slipped away afterward. Tonight, you knew he did. You could feel it in the way his body had tensed just slightly when he pulled out, the unspoken awareness hanging heavy between you.
Soobin shifted beside you, the mattress dipping as he rolled over. His arm draped loosely across your waist for a moment before he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there like an apology he didn’t quite know how to voice. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispered, voice already thick and sleepy. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to sound normal.
“Goodnight,” you replied softly, turning your head just enough to brush your nose against his shoulder.
You waited in the dark, listening carefully as his breathing gradually slowed and deepened. Minutes stretched out, each one feeling longer than the last. When you were finally sure he was fully asleep, you slipped out from under his arm with practiced care, trying not to disturb the mattress too much. The cool air of the room hit your bare legs as you stood, and you padded quietly to the bedside drawer. Your fingers closed around the smooth, familiar shape of your vibrator, the one you’d come to rely on more than you wanted to admit. The weight of it in your palm felt almost comforting now.
You tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door behind you with a soft click, locking it out of habit even though Soobin was dead to the world. The small nightlight cast a gentle golden glow across the tiles as you leaned back against the sink counter. Heart still racing from the unresolved tension in your body, you hiked up the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on and parted your thighs. The moment the buzzing toy pressed against your swollen, neglected clit, a shaky exhale escaped your lips. This was never fine. This was intense, almost desperate— the sharp pleasure you craved but could no longer get from the man sleeping in the next room.
Your free hand gripped the edge of the counter as you worked the vibrator in slow, teasing circles, then faster, chasing the release that had been denied to you earlier. Your mind wandered while your hips jerked against your hand, thoughts drifting dangerously toward the crumpled business card you’d tucked away in your purse weeks ago. Jeon Jungkook. Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in couples’ intimacy issues. You’d stared at that card so many times, equal parts ashamed and curious. The glowing reviews online had mentioned how thorough he was… how hands-on.
Your thighs trembled as the pressure finally built to its peak. You bit down hard on your lip to stay quiet, eyes squeezing shut while the orgasm crashed over you in strong, pulsing waves. For a few blissful seconds, everything else disappeared— the frustration, the guilt, the growing distance between you and Soobin. Only the sharp pleasure remained. But as the high faded and you caught your breath under the dim nightlight, the reality settled back in. This couldn’t keep going on like this. Something had to change.
The next day dawned gray and quiet, the kind of overcast morning that made the apartment feel smaller than it was. You woke up before Soobin, his arm still loosely draped over your waist from the night before. For a long moment you just lay there, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling that had become an unwilling witness to so many disappointing nights. Your body still carried the faint ache of unresolved need, even after last night’s secret session in the bathroom. The memory of the vibrator’s buzz and the sharp, guilty pleasure it brought made your thighs press together under the sheets.
All day the business card burned a hole in your pocket.
You went through the motions— making coffee, answering emails, attending meetings, but your mind kept circling back to it. Should I say something? What if he gets defensive? What if he thinks I’m unhappy with him as a person and not just… this? The card felt heavy, its edges sharp against your fingertips every time you brushed your hand over your pocket. At lunch you pulled it out in the bathroom stall just to stare at the elegant black text again: Jeon Jungkook, Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in Couples’ Intimacy & Desire. Your stomach twisted with nerves and something else, something hotter and more dangerous.
By the time evening came, the anxiety had twisted into a constant, low hum beneath your skin. You cooked dinner in silence while Soobin set the table, the two of you moving around each other with the familiar, gentle choreography of a couple who had been together for years. Pasta with creamy tomato sauce, garlic bread, a simple salad, comfort food on a night that felt anything but comfortable. The apartment smelled warm and safe, yet your heart wouldn’t stop racing.
Halfway through the meal, you couldn’t take it anymore.
Your fork paused above your half-eaten plate, twirling a strand of pasta that you no longer had any appetite for. Soobin was talking softly about his day, something about a deadline at work, but the words barely registered. Your fingers trembled as they slipped into your pocket and pulled out the slightly creased business card. Without a word, you slid it across the wooden table until it rested beside his glass of water.
Soobin’s voice trailed off. He looked down at the card, fork hovering in mid-air for a second before he slowly set it down. The quiet clink of metal against the plate sounded impossibly loud. You held your breath, chest tight, watching his face as he picked up the card with long, elegant fingers. His eyes scanned the text once, then again, more carefully. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall.
You waited for confusion. For hurt. For anger, maybe. Instead, Soobin let out a long, slow sigh.
It wasn’t the frustrated kind you’d feared. It was… relief. Deep, exhausted relief. His shoulders sagged as he placed the card back on the table, turning it over once between his fingers before looking up at you. His eyes were soft, a little sad, but strangely calm.
“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” he asked quietly.
You swallowed hard, nodding. Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. “Yes. I… I know things haven’t been great. Between us. In bed. I know you’ve felt it too.”
Soobin leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He stared at the card for another long moment, then looked at you again— really looked at you. There was no defensiveness in his gaze, only a quiet acknowledgment that made your throat tighten.
“I have,” he admitted, voice low. “I’ve felt it for months. Every time I touch you and you don’t… every time you make those little sounds like you’re trying to spare my feelings.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile that broke your heart a little. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to think I don’t want you anymore, because I do. So fucking much. I just… I don’t know how to fix it.”
The honesty in his words made your eyes sting. You reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. For the first time in a long time, it felt like you were really seeing each other again. “I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not,” you whispered. “I think… maybe we need help. Real help. From someone who knows what they’re doing.”
Soobin glanced back down at Jungkook’s name on the card. His thumb brushed over the printed letters almost absentmindedly. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “If you’re sure you want to do this… then I’m in. We’ll do it together.”
You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, a strange mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in your stomach. The decision was made. The appointment would be made.
The waiting room of Jeon Jungkook’s private practice was quieter than you expected. Soft ambient music played low in the background, something instrumental and soothing that did little to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You sat on a sleek gray couch beside Soobin, your hand resting loosely in his lap while his thumb brushed slow, absentminded circles over your knuckles. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and clean linen. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in natural light, but the tension in your chest made everything feel slightly unreal.
You had been nervous all morning. The drive here had been mostly silent, both of you lost in your own thoughts, but now that you were actually here, sitting in this elegant, minimalist office, the nerves had twisted into something sharper. A low, thrilling hum of excitement sat right beneath the anxiety. Your thighs pressed together under your sundress as you replayed the glowing reviews in your head. Thorough. Transformative. Life-changing.
Ten minutes felt like an eternity.
Every time you heard footsteps in the hallway, your breath would catch, only for the sound to fade again. Soobin squeezed your hand gently, offering a small, reassuring smile, but you could see the same mixture of uncertainty and hope in his eyes. He looked handsome today in his button-up shirt, but even that familiar sight couldn’t stop the restless energy buzzing under your skin.
Finally, the door opened.
Jeon Jungkook stepped inside, and for a moment the world seemed to tilt.
He was stunning. Easily one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with a quiet, confident grace that immediately filled the room. His black hair was slightly tousled, falling over his forehead in a way that looked effortlessly perfect. Sharp jawline, full lips, and dark, piercing eyes framed by long lashes. He wore a fitted black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing tattoos that disappeared beneath the fabric, and tailored slacks that accentuated his powerful thighs. The subtle scent of his cologne, something woody and expensive, reached you as he closed the door behind him.
You couldn’t stop staring.
Jungkook didn’t speak right away. He crossed the room and settled into the large leather chair across from you, clipboard in hand. For several long minutes he simply read over his notes, his expression calm and focused. The silence was heavy. You found yourself tracing the line of his neck, the way his fingers held the pen with quiet strength, the faint flex of muscle in his forearm as he turned a page. Heat crept up your neck. Soobin shifted beside you, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man in front of you.
After what felt like forever, Jungkook finally looked up.
His eyes met yours first, then shifted to Soobin. A small, professional smile curved his lips, warm, but with something unreadable flickering behind it. “Hello,” he said, voice smooth and low, like velvet dragged over stone. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. Thank you for waiting. I’ve reviewed the intake forms you filled out online.” He set the clipboard on his lap and leaned back slightly, giving you both his full attention. “So… why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”
You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. Soobin gave your hand another squeeze, silently encouraging you to start. Your voice came out softer than intended as you began to speak.
You told him everything. How the sex had been good in the beginning, warm, loving, safe. How over the past couple of years it had slowly become routine and unsatisfying. You described lying beneath Soobin, faking soft moans while your body remained tense and frustrated. The mechanical rhythm, the lack of real spark, the growing ache that no amount of “fine” could satisfy. You mentioned slipping away to the bathroom at night with your vibrator, chasing the intense pleasure your boyfriend could no longer give you. Your cheeks burned as you spoke, but Jungkook’s gaze never wavered. He listened with complete focus, occasionally nodding or jotting something down on his clipboard.
Soobin chimed in quietly, his voice laced with vulnerability. He admitted feeling the distance growing between you two. How he could sense you weren’t fully there with him anymore, how guilty it made him feel, how much he still wanted you but didn’t know how to reach you the way he used to. He spoke about the pressure of wanting to please you and constantly falling short.
Jungkook listened intently the entire time.
His dark eyes flicked between the two of you, absorbing every word. Every so often he would write something down in neat, precise strokes, his pen moving across the paper with a soft scratch that somehow felt intimate in the quiet room. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer empty reassurances. He simply absorbed it all, head slightly tilted, expression thoughtful and impossibly focused. You found yourself wondering what exactly he was writing. What he was thinking. Whether he could already picture exactly how to fix what was broken between you.
When you both finally fell silent, the room felt heavier than before. Your heart was racing, thighs warm, a traitorous pulse beating between your legs as you watched Jungkook tap his pen against the clipboard once, twice, before setting it down.
“I appreciate how open you’ve both been so far,” he began, eyes flicking between you and Soobin. “But to truly help, I need to understand the specifics. The details matter. How often do you have sex currently? How long do your sessions usually last, from start to finish? And most importantly… what does it actually look like when you’re together?”
You felt heat bloom across your chest and climb up your neck. Soobin’s hand tightened slightly around yours, his palm growing warmer. Jungkook waited patiently, giving you both space, but his dark eyes were sharp, missing nothing. When neither of you spoke immediately, he continued gently, guiding the conversation. “Let’s start with positions,” he said, tone professional yet undeniably intimate. “What positions do you usually use? Do you switch often? How does foreplay factor in— duration, techniques? And how long does penetration usually last before one or both of you finishes?”
The questions landed heavily in the quiet room. You swallowed, mouth dry, your sundress suddenly feeling too thin against your skin. Jungkook’s gaze settled on you expectantly, patient but commanding. There was something about the way he looked at you— focused, knowing, like he could already see the frustration coiled tight in your body, that made your pulse throb between your legs.
You took a shaky breath and forced the words out, voice barely above a whisper at first. “We… we mostly just do missionary,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “It’s what feels most natural for us, I guess. Comfortable. Soobin on top, me on my back. Sometimes I’ll ride him, cowgirl, but not very often. And when I do… there’s not much vigor to it. I get tired quickly, or it just doesn’t feel… right.”
Jungkook nodded slowly, writing something down in those neat strokes. The scratch of his pen seemed louder than it should have been. He didn’t look surprised or judgmental. Instead, his expression remained thoughtfully neutral, though you swore you caught the faintest flicker of something darker, interest, perhaps, behind his eyes.
“And how long does it usually last?” he asked, voice smooth. “From the moment clothes come off to when it’s over. Be honest.”
Soobin cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably beside you. His ears had turned pink. “Maybe… ten to fifteen minutes?” he offered quietly. “Sometimes less. I try to hold out, but…”
You squeezed his hand, both ashamed and relieved to finally say it aloud. “It’s not that it’s bad,” you added quickly, though the words felt hollow even to you. “It’s just… short. And always the same. Missionary with him above me, moving steadily until he finishes. I rarely do on my own during it. When I ride him, I try to move, but it feels awkward. Like I don’t know how to make it feel good for either of us anymore. There’s no real… intensity. No roughness. No experimentation.”
Jungkook listened with complete focus. His full lips pressed together in thought as he processed your words. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, closing some of the distance between you. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm, masculine, expensive. “No oral?” he asked calmly. “No doggy style? No standing positions, no restraints, no toys during sex together? You mentioned using a vibrator alone at night, does Soobin ever use it on you? Or watch you use it?”
Each question felt like a layer being peeled back. You squirmed in your seat, painfully aware of the growing wetness between your thighs. The way Jungkook spoke, so direct, so clinical, yet dripping with unspoken promise, made your mind race with images you knew you shouldn’t be having in this moment. Him. Those tattooed arms. That confident grip. Showing you exactly what you’d been missing.
Soobin shook his head slowly. “We’ve tried oral a few times, but… it doesn’t last long. And no, we’ve never really done any of the other stuff. It just never felt necessary before. Or maybe we didn’t know how.”
You nodded in agreement, biting your lip. “It’s always been vanilla. Safe. But now it feels too safe. Too… predictable. I love him. I do. But I lie there wondering if this is just how it’s going to be forever.”
Jungkook’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer than necessary before he wrote a few more lines. The silence that followed was thick with tension. He finally set the pen down and looked at you both, his expression composed but carrying an undeniable edge of authority. “I understand,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “You’re stuck in a very narrow script. Missionary and occasional cowgirl with minimal energy or variation, that explains a lot about the frustration you’re both feeling. Your bodies have adapted to routine. Comfort has replaced desire.”
Jungkook set his clipboard aside completely now, the soft thud of it hitting the side table sounding final. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and fixed both of you with a steady, intense gaze. The professional mask was still there, but something sharper and more commanding lingered just beneath it.
“I’ve heard enough to see the pattern clearly,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Words and explanations can only go so far. At this point, the most effective way for me to help is through demonstration. I’d like to show Soobin exactly how to touch you, how to build real desire, and how to awaken the parts of your body that have been neglected.”
He let the words settle in the heavy silence of the room before turning his full attention to you. “I won’t do anything without your explicit consent,” Jungkook continued, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “This would involve me touching you directly while Soobin watches. I’ll start slow. I’ll show him how to kiss you, how to touch you, how to read your body’s responses. If at any point you want to stop, you say the word and everything ends immediately.”
Your heart hammered wildly in your chest. Heat flooded your face, your neck, and lower. You could feel Soobin’s hand tense in yours, his breathing shallow beside you. For a long moment, the only sound was the soft ambient music and the rush of blood in your ears.
Jungkook waited patiently, giving you time. His gaze never wavered— calm, confident, and impossibly magnetic. You swallowed hard, throat dry. Nervous energy twisted in your stomach, but underneath it, something hotter and more dangerous stirred. A deep, aching curiosity. Excitement. “Yes,” you whispered, voice barely audible at first. Then stronger, “Yes… I want that.”
Jungkook’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. He glanced at Soobin. “And you? Are you comfortable with me demonstrating on your girlfriend while you observe?”
Soobin hesitated for only a second, then gave a slow nod, his cheeks flushed. “If she wants it… then yes.” Jungkook stood up smoothly, moving with that quiet, predatory grace. He crossed the short distance between his chair and the wide, plush chaise lounge where you and Soobin were seated. He extended his hand to you.
“Come here,” he said softly. “Lie back and get comfortable.”
Your legs felt unsteady as you stood. Soobin released your hand, and you moved to the chaise, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could both hear it. You lay back against the soft cushions, your sundress riding up slightly against your thighs. Jungkook sat on the edge beside you, the heat of his body immediately noticeable. He was so close now. The scent of his cologne, the faint warmth radiating from his broad frame, the way his button-up shirt stretched across his chest, it was overwhelming.
He looked down at you, eyes dark and focused. “Relax for me,” he murmured. “We’re going to start very slow.” Jungkook leaned in, one hand gently brushing your hair away from your neck. His breath ghosted over your skin first, sending shivers racing down your spine. Then his lips pressed softly just below your ear. The kiss was feather-light at first, warm, deliberate. He took his time, kissing down the sensitive column of your neck with slow, lingering presses of his mouth. Each one felt intentional, like he was learning the map of your reactions.
A shaky exhale left your lips. Your eyes fluttered half-closed as he kissed lower, finding the spot where your neck met your shoulder and sucking gently. The wet heat of his tongue traced a small circle there, and your back arched instinctively. One of his hands slid up your side, slow and confident, until his large palm cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your dress. He squeezed gently, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing strokes until it hardened under his touch.
“See how she responds when you take your time?” Jungkook said quietly, speaking to Soobin without pulling his mouth away from your neck. His voice had dropped even lower. “Don’t rush straight to the obvious places. Build it. Make her feel wanted.”
He kneaded your breast with just the right amount of pressure, rolling your nipple between his fingers over your dress, while his mouth continued its slow exploration of your neck and collarbones. Soft, open-mouthed kisses. The occasional gentle scrape of teeth that made your thighs press together. Your breathing had already grown uneven, small sounds escaping you that you didn’t even try to hold back.
Jungkook’s free hand rested on your waist, holding you in place as he shifted slightly closer. The weight and warmth of him beside you made your head spin. Every touch was precise, controlled, and devastatingly effective. You could already feel yourself getting wet, arousal pooling between your legs far faster than it ever did with Soobin.
Soobin sat quietly in the chair nearby, eyes wide and fixed on every movement. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap, breathing audible. Jungkook pulled back just enough to look at your face, his thumb still lazily circling your nipple. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “How does that feel?” he asked you, voice husky. “Be honest.”
You could barely form words. Your neck tingled where his mouth had been, your breast warm and heavy under his hand. “It feels… really good,” you breathed, cheeks burning.
A satisfied smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured, leaning back down. “Then let’s continue.” Jungkook’s hands moved with deliberate confidence as he sat up slightly on the edge of the chaise. His dark eyes never left your face, reading every flicker of nervousness and arousal that crossed it. “Let’s remove this,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring. “I want you to feel everything without barriers.”
His fingers found the hem of your sundress, slowly sliding it upward. The fabric whispered against your skin as he lifted it inch by inch, exposing your thighs, then your hips, then the soft curve of your stomach. You raised your arms obediently, heart hammering against your ribs. With one smooth, practiced motion, Jungkook pulled the dress up and over your head, leaving your hair slightly tousled. He set the garment aside neatly on a nearby chair, his gaze roaming over your body now clad only in your bra and matching underwear.
The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed skin, making you shiver. You felt incredibly vulnerable under their combined stares— Soobin’s wide-eyed and tense from his seat, and Jungkook’s dark, hungry, yet still controlled. Jungkook hummed softly in approval, his large hands returning to your body immediately.
He leaned down again, lips finding your neck once more. This time his kisses were deeper, more possessive, sucking gently at your pulse point while one hand cupped your breast through the thin lace of your bra. His thumb brushed over your nipple in slow, teasing circles, coaxing it to a stiff peak. He kneaded the soft flesh with just the right pressure, firm enough to make you arch into his touch, but never rushed.
“Watch how I’m touching her,” Jungkook said quietly to Soobin, his mouth still hovering against your heated skin. “Don’t just grab. Mold her breast in your palm like this… feel its weight. Use your thumb to tease her nipple until it’s sensitive. Her body is already responding, see how her breathing changed? That’s what you want.”
You let out a shaky whimper as he emphasized his words by pinching your nipple lightly through the fabric, rolling it between his fingers. Pleasure shot straight down between your legs. Jungkook continued kissing down your collarbone, occasionally glancing toward Soobin to explain, his voice smooth and instructional even as his hands worked magic on your body.
After several long, indulgent minutes of kissing and caressing your breasts, Jungkook’s hand began to travel lower. His palm smoothed down your stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of your underwear. He looked up at you, eyes intense. “Still okay?” he asked softly.
You nodded quickly, biting your lip. “Yes…”
With your permission, his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties. The first touch of his fingers against your bare, heated skin made you gasp. You were already slick with arousal, embarrassingly wet from everything he’d done so far. Jungkook’s middle and ring fingers found your swollen clit and began rubbing slow, lazy circles over it.
“Fuck… she’s soaked,” he murmured, almost to himself, though loud enough for Soobin to hear. His fingers moved with expert precision, not too fast, not too light, applying perfect pressure as he circled your clit again and again. “This is key, Soobin. Don’t rush to penetrate her. Spend time here. Learn exactly how she likes to be touched. Feel how her hips are already trying to follow my hand?”
Your thighs trembled. Soft, needy sounds spilled from your lips as Jungkook continued the torturously slow rubbing. Heat coiled tighter and tighter in your lower belly. Every circle of his fingers sent sparks of pleasure racing through you. He kept his mouth on your neck and chest the entire time, kissing and gently biting while his hand worked between your legs.
After several drawn-out minutes of this, Jungkook shifted slightly. He used two fingers to pull your soaked panties to the side, fully exposing you. Without warning, he slowly pushed one thick finger inside you, then a second, stretching you open with delicious care. A broken moan escaped your throat. Your back arched off the chaise as his fingers sank deeper, curling slightly to find that sensitive spot inside you. Jungkook groaned softly in approval at how tightly you clenched around him.
“See that?” he said to Soobin, voice huskier now. “She’s gripping my fingers so tightly. This is what happens when you take the time to arouse her properly. Slide in slowly… curl them like this… and listen to the sounds she makes.” He began thrusting his fingers in and out in long, deep strokes, his thumb returning to rub circles over your clit at the same time. The dual sensation was overwhelming. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the building pleasure while Soobin watched every single movement with flushed cheeks and parted lips.
Jungkook’s eyes flicked back to your face, watching you intently as he fingered you with steady, devastating skill. “You’re doing so well,” he praised softly, pumping his fingers deeper. “Let me hear you.”
Jungkook’s fingers moved with growing intensity, thrusting deeper and faster into your soaked pussy. The wet, obscene sounds of his thick fingers pumping in and out filled the room, mixing with your increasingly loud moans. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your head fell back against the chaise as shameless whimpers and cries spilled from your lips. “Ah— fuck… Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, your voice breaking on his name. Your fingers dug desperately into his muscular arm, gripping the hard bicep through his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. Your hips bucked up to meet every thrust, chasing the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you so effortlessly. “Oh my god… it feels so good—”
“That’s it,” Jungkook praised, his voice low and rough. “Let it out. Don’t hold back for me.” His fingers curled perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you with every stroke, faster now, more relentless. The wet squelching sounds grew louder as your arousal coated his hand and dripped down between your thighs.
Your moans turned into desperate, breathy cries. Your thighs trembled violently around his wrist as the pleasure built higher and higher, far beyond anything you’d felt in months.
Jungkook suddenly slowed his fingers, keeping them buried deep inside you, and shifted his position. He moved onto his knees on the chaise, spreading your legs wider with his free hand. He looked over at Soobin, eyes dark with lust but still carrying that instructional tone. “I’m going to eat her out while I keep fingering her,” he told Soobin calmly. “This combination is extremely effective. Watch how I use my tongue.”
You whimpered at his words alone, already anticipating what was coming. Jungkook hooked his fingers under the waistband of your soaked panties and pulled them down your legs, tossing them aside. Completely exposed now, you shivered under his gaze.
He leaned down between your spread thighs, face inches from your dripping pussy. Without warning, he spat directly onto your swollen hole, the warm saliva landing right at your entrance. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation. Jungkook used two fingers to spread the spit around, mixing it with your own wetness, before pushing his fingers back inside you.
Then his tongue was on you. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat as his warm, wet tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your pussy before focusing on your clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth while his fingers continued thrusting in and out of you, faster than before. Then he did exactly what he’d described, he fucked the spit into your hole with his tongue, pushing it inside you alongside his fingers in messy, obscene strokes.
You were on cloud nine.
“Fuck—! Jungkook— oh my fucking god—” you cried out, voice loud and unrestrained. Your back arched sharply off the chaise as intense pleasure crashed through your body. Your hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his soft dark hair, gripping tightly as his tongue fucked into you deeper. The wet sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy mixed with the filthy squelch of his fingers pumping relentlessly inside you.
Jungkook groaned against your cunt, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through you. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue and sucking hard on your clit, all while his fingers curled and stroked that perfect spot without mercy. “Soobin,” Jungkook said, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips shiny with your juices. “Come closer. Sit right next to her. She needs you here.”
Soobin moved quickly, his face flushed dark red. He sat on the edge of the chaise beside you, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook devour you. You reached out blindly, grabbing Soobin’s hand and squeezing it hard as another loud moan ripped from your throat.
“Baby— ahh— it feels so good,” you whimpered to Soobin, voice shaking. Your body thrashed under Jungkook’s skilled mouth and fingers, hips grinding desperately against his face. You gripped Soobin’s hand like a lifeline while your other hand stayed tangled in Jungkook’s hair, pulling him harder against your pussy.
Jungkook doubled down, tongue fucking into you even deeper, spitting on your cunt again before diving back in with messy, hungry strokes. His fingers never stopped their brutal pace, curling and thrusting until your moans turned into near-screams of pleasure.
You were lost in it, whimpering, moaning, and shaking uncontrollably as the man between your legs showed you exactly what your body had been missing, while you held your boyfriend’s hand through every devastating wave of pleasure.
The pleasure built to an unbearable peak as Jungkook’s tongue fucked relentlessly into your dripping hole and his fingers curled against that perfect spot inside you. Your moans turned into desperate, broken cries, growing louder and more frantic with every filthy stroke of his skilled mouth. You gripped Soobin’s hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, your other hand fisting Jungkook’s dark hair as your hips bucked wildly against his face.
Suddenly, the coil inside you snapped.
You came hard on his tongue with a loud, shuddering scream. “Jungkook—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed violently, thighs clamping around his head as powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers and tongue, gushing wetly against his mouth while he continued licking and sucking through every pulse of your orgasm. You thrashed on the chaise, moaning shamelessly, eyes squeezed shut as the intense release left you trembling and breathless. Soobin’s hand stayed firmly in yours the entire time, grounding you even as you fell apart under another man’s mouth.
Jungkook worked you through every last aftershock, licking you slowly and gently until your body finally sagged against the cushions, panting and dazed. Only then did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening with your cum. He looked devastatingly handsome like that, flushed, eyes dark with lust, and breathing heavily.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked between you and Soobin, voice low and husky but still controlled. “Are you both willing to continue?” he asked. “I’d like to move into demonstrating positions. The difference between what you’ve been doing and what she actually needs.”
You didn’t even hesitate. Still floating on the high of your orgasm, arousal already stirring again, you nodded eagerly. “Yes,” you breathed, almost desperately. “Please… I want more.”
Soobin swallowed hard, visibly affected by what he’d just witnessed, but he nodded as well. “If she wants it… yes.”
A satisfied, almost predatory smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured. “I’m going to fuck her raw. Skin to skin. No condom. She needs to feel the full effect, the heat, the friction, everything. Then I’ll show you, Soobin, exactly how to make missionary feel incredible for her instead of just… adequate.”
Jungkook reached behind your back with skilled fingers and unclasped your bra. He slid the straps down your shoulders slowly, savoring the moment as he pulled the lace away and dropped it aside. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already hard and aching. He groaned softly at the sight before leaning down and capturing one nipple in his mouth.
He sucked on it hungrily, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while his large hand kneaded the soft flesh of your other breast. He switched sides, giving the same devoted attention to the other nipple, sucking harder, grazing his teeth gently, then soothing with his tongue. The wet sounds of his mouth on your breasts filled the room as you moaned and arched into him, your body responding instantly.
After several long, indulgent minutes of worshipping your chest, Jungkook finally positioned himself between your spread thighs, after kicking his pants and boxers off. He gripped his thick, hard cock in one hand, stroking it slowly as he looked down at your flushed, dripping pussy. “Watch carefully,” he told Soobin, voice rough. “This is how you claim her.”
He rubbed the swollen head of his cock up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness, before pressing against your entrance. With a low groan, Jungkook pushed forward and slid into you in one long, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, fluttering heat.
You cried out loudly at the stretch, your back arching sharply. He was big, thicker and longer than Soobin, and the raw, bare feeling of him inside you was overwhelming. “Fuck… so tight,” Jungkook growled, holding still for a moment to let you adjust. Then he pulled back almost all the way before slamming back in, setting a rough, brutal pace immediately.
The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room as he fucked you hard and deep. Each powerful thrust rocked your entire body, your breasts bouncing with the force of it. Jungkook’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again, the wet, filthy sounds of your pussy taking his cock filling the air. “That’s it,” he groaned, eyes locked on your face. “Take my cock. Feel how deep I am?”
Your moans were loud and unrestrained, turning into near-screams every time he bottomed out inside you. The brutal pace left you shaking, gripping the cushions beneath you as wave after wave of intense pleasure rolled through your body.
Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with possessive strength. He used your body like a personal toy, pulling you down onto his thick cock with every brutal thrust. Instead of just fucking into you, he yanked your hips forward to meet him, slamming you onto his length over and over again in a relentless rhythm. The wet, filthy sound of your soaked pussy being filled echoed loudly in the room with every powerful motion. Each time he dragged you back down, his cock buried itself impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix and sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure shooting through your entire body.
“Fuck—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and broken. Your head tossed back against the chaise, mouth falling open in a constant stream of moans and whimpers.
Jungkook glanced over at Soobin, breathing heavily but still in control. “Soobin,” he growled, never slowing the way he was manhandling you onto his cock. “Play with her clit. Rub it while I fuck her. She needs the extra stimulation.”
Soobin hesitated only for a second before leaning closer. His hand trembled slightly as he reached between your bodies and found your swollen, sensitive clit. He began rubbing slow circles over it, just like he’d watched Jungkook do earlier. The added sensation was immediate and devastating.
Your moans instantly grew louder, turning into desperate, shameless cries. “Oh my god—! It’s so good… so fucking good— Jungkook, your cock is so big— I can’t— ahh!” The words spilled out of you in a messy, nonsensical stream.
Jungkook groaned in satisfaction at your words, his pace growing even more punishing. He kept yanking your hips down onto him with raw strength, using your body exactly how he wanted. The wet slap of skin against skin was constant now, your arousal dripping down his balls and soaking the chaise beneath you. Every brutal thrust made your breasts bounce heavily, your entire body jolting with the force of him claiming you.
Soobin’s fingers kept rubbing your clit, faster now, his eyes wide and dark as he watched you fall apart. “You look so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “All fucked out… you’re glowing. So fucking pretty when you’re moaning like that.”
His words only pushed you higher. You squeezed Soobin’s hand tighter with your free one while your other hand clutched desperately at Jungkook’s forearm, nails digging into his tattooed skin. “Your dick is so big, it feels too good, I can’t think— please don’t stop—!” you babbled loudly, words slurring together between broken moans and gasps. Tears of overwhelming pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as he continued to wreck you.
Jungkook smirked, dark eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction. He adjusted his angle slightly and started pounding into you even harder, pulling you onto his cock with every snap of his hips. The new position made him hit that perfect spot inside you with devastating accuracy on every thrust. Sweat glistened on his forehead and neck, his shirt now clinging to his muscular chest from exertion.
“That’s right,” he growled, voice rough and low. “Feel how deep I am? This is what your pussy needed. Not soft, polite sex. It needed to be ruined like this.”
He kept using your body ruthlessly, yanking you down onto him, grinding deep, then pulling back only to slam you onto his length again. Soobin never stopped rubbing tight, slick circles on your clit, his eyes flicking between your face and the sight of Jungkook’s thick cock disappearing inside you repeatedly.
The pleasure was blinding. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the room as another orgasm began rapidly building, even stronger than the first. Jungkook was fucking you better than you had ever been fucked in your life. The brutal pace of Jungkook’s cock slamming into you, combined with Soobin’s fingers rubbing relentless circles on your swollen clit, pushed you straight over the edge again.
Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train.
“Jungkook—! I’m cumming— fuck. ” you screamed, your voice cracking as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around his thick cock, fluttering and gushing as powerful waves of pleasure ripped through you. Your back arched sharply off the chaise, thighs shaking uncontrollably while Jungkook kept fucking you through it, dragging out every last pulse of your release. Soobin’s hand never stopped, prolonging the overwhelming sensation until you were sobbing with pleasure, tears slipping down your cheeks.
You were still twitching and gasping, trying to catch your breath, when Jungkook suddenly pulled out of you with a wet sound. Before you could even whimper at the loss, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing.
He turned and sat down on the chaise, pulling you with him so you straddled his lap facing him. He guided you down onto his cock again in one smooth motion, burying himself back inside your sensitive, fluttering pussy. This new position pressed your bodies flush together, chest to chest, your knees bent on either side of his hips.
“This is called the lotus position,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice deep and slightly breathless as he held you firmly on his cock. “It’s intimate. She’s completely wrapped around me, which lets me hit every sensitive spot inside her. The closeness increases stimulation on her clit and lets her control the depth and rhythm while I guide her. It feels incredible for her because she’s full and every movement grinds right against her g-spot.”
You barely had time to process his words before your body took over. Still trembling from your last orgasm, you started moving on him, slow at first, then faster, rolling and bouncing on his thick length with desperate need. The new angle made him feel even deeper, pressing against places you didn’t even know existed.
“Ahh! Jungkook!” you sobbed, pleasure bordering on too much. Your hands gripped his broad shoulders tightly, nails digging into his shirt as you rode him. Your head tipped back, mouth open in a constant stream of broken moans and cries. “It’s so deep… so fucking deep, oh my god.”
Tears continued slipping down your flushed cheeks as you moved faster, chasing the overwhelming pleasure. Your breasts bounced heavily with every roll of your hips, pussy swallowing his cock again and again with wet, obscene sounds.
Jungkook groaned deeply, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. He kneaded the soft, plump flesh roughly, spreading your cheeks as he helped guide you up and down on his cock. Then— smack, his palm came down hard on your right cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the room. You cried out at the sting, clenching tighter around him. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, slapping your ass again, harder this time. “Ride me just like that. Use my cock.”
He buried his face between your bouncing tits, sucking one nipple into his hot mouth while his hands continued kneading and spanking your ass in rhythm with your movements. He groaned against your skin, tongue swirling and teeth grazing as he devoured you.
You were lost in it— sobbing, moaning, and babbling nonsense while you rode him with everything you had.Your head stayed tipped back, eyes half-lidded and glassy with overwhelming pleasure as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. Soobin watched everything in stunned silence from just inches away, eyes dark and fixed on the way your body moved on Jungkook’s cock and how his hands owned your ass.
Jungkook pulled his mouth from your nipple just long enough to look up at your pleasure-drunk face, voice rough with lust. “That’s my good girl… Keep fucking yourself on me. Let him see how pretty you look when you’re falling apart.”
You were completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure, rolling your hips desperately on Jungkook’s thick cock in this position. Your voice had grown hoarse from moaning, but his name still fell from your lips like a prayer. “Jungkook… Jungkook— fuck, Jungkook—” you whimpered repeatedly, your head tipped back and eyes glazed over.
Jungkook pulled his face from your breasts, lips shiny, and looked up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. His hands squeezed your ass firmly as he held you down on his cock, grinding up into you slowly. “What is it, pretty girl?” he asked, voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips. “What do you need? Tell me. Use your words.”
You sobbed softly, still moving on him, drunk on the feeling of being so full. “I want it from behind,” you begged, voice shaky and desperate. “Please… I want you to fuck me from behind.”
Jungkook let out a deep, amused chuckle that vibrated through his chest. “Greedy girl,” he murmured affectionately. Without warning, he lifted you off his cock, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. He easily maneuvered your body, turning you around on the chaise.
He guided you into position with strong, confident hands. “Soobin, sit down right here,” he instructed. Soobin obeyed, sitting on the chaise with his back against the cushions. Jungkook then pushed you forward until your face hovered just above Soobin’s lap, your elbows resting on either side of his knees. Your back was arched deeply, ass up and presented perfectly for Jungkook behind you.
You looked up at Soobin through your lashes, flushed and breathing hard, your cheek nearly brushing against the bulge in his pants.
Instead of immediately sliding his cock into you, Jungkook knelt behind you. He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing you completely. He leaned in and sank his teeth gently into the soft flesh of your right ass cheek, biting and sucking hard enough to make you gasp sharply.
“I’m going to eat her ass now,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice calm but dripping with lust. “Most men skip this, but it feels incredible for her. It relaxes her and makes her even wetter. Watch.” Before you could fully prepare yourself, Jungkook buried his face between your cheeks.
A loud, broken cry tore from your throat the moment his warm, wet tongue licked a slow, filthy stripe over your tight hole. “Oh my god!” you screamed, your whole body jerking forward. He licked you again, slower this time, swirling the tip of his tongue around your rim before pressing it inside you.
You were crying out uncontrollably now, the pleasure intense and strangely intimate. Your hands scrambled desperately for purchase, grabbing onto Soobin’s thighs and squeezing hard as Jungkook devoured your ass with filthy enthusiasm. He groaned against your skin, the vibrations making your eyes roll back.
His tongue pushed deeper, fucking into your tight hole with wet, obscene sounds while one of his hands reached underneath to rub firm circles on your clit. He alternated between long, broad licks and pointed thrusts of his tongue, eating you like a man starved. Every stroke sent jolts of sharp, dirty pleasure racing up your spine. “Fuck— Jungkook, it feels so fucking good!” you sobbed, pushing back against his face instinctively. Tears of overwhelming sensation rolled down your cheeks as you panted against Soobin’s thigh, looking up at him with glassy, fucked-out eyes.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your wet skin. “Hear how loud she gets when I eat her ass? This is what she’s been missing.” Then he dove right back in, licking and sucking even more eagerly, his face pressed fully between your cheeks as he worked you open with his skilled tongue.
Your moans and cries filled the entire room, shameless and loud, while your hands gripped Soobin’s thighs like a lifeline, trembling as Jungkook continued. Jungkook didn’t rush. He kept his face buried between your spread cheeks, devouring you with slow, filthy dedication. His tongue swirled and probed at your tight rim, licking long stripes from your dripping pussy up to your asshole before pushing inside again. Every time his tongue fucked into your ass, a fresh wave of overwhelming pleasure crashed through you, making your back arch deeper and your fingers dig harder into Soobin’s thighs.
Your hips pushed back against his face instinctively, chasing more of that dirty, intense sensation. He groaned deeply against your skin, the vibration traveling straight through you as he continued with even more enthusiasm. He spread your cheeks wider with both hands, fully exposing you, and spat directly onto your hole before diving back in, licking and sucking like he couldn’t get enough.
Minutes stretched out in a haze of pleasure. Jungkook took his time, alternating between broad, sloppy licks and sharp, pointed thrusts of his tongue deep inside you. One of his hands stayed between your legs, rubbing slow, firm circles on your swollen clit while the other kneaded and slapped your ass cheek occasionally, the sharp smacks making you jolt and moan louder. You were a mess, sobbing, whimpering, and shaking as he continued rimming you relentlessly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again without ever letting you tip over.
Only when your legs were trembling uncontrollably and your cries had turned into constant, desperate begging did Jungkook finally pull back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rose onto his knees behind you, his voice rough with lust as he spoke to Soobin. “Now I’m going to fuck her from behind. Hard. This position lets me go deeper and gives me full control.”
You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt the thick, blunt head of Jungkook’s cock pressing against your soaked entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, stretching you open around his thick length.
A loud, broken scream tore from your throat. "Fuck yes!" He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He immediately set a brutal, punishing pace, slamming into you hard and deep. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoed loudly through the room with every thrust. He gripped your hips tightly, yanking you back onto his cock over and over again, using your body exactly how he wanted.
“Fuck— so tight,” he growled, voice low and strained.
Every brutal snap of his hips drove his cock impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix with every stroke. Your elbows trembled as you tried to hold yourself up, face buried against Soobin’s thigh while your moans and cries grew louder and more broken. Jungkook reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back slightly so your back arched even more for him.
“You like that?” he groaned, pounding into you mercilessly. “You like being fucked like a little toy from behind?”
“Yes! Yes, fuck— Jungkook!” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face. The angle was devastating. Every thrust ground against that perfect spot inside you, making your legs shake violently. Your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, soaking him with every rough stroke as he continued to rail you without mercy.
Jungkook’s pace was relentless, hard, fast, and animalistic. The wet, filthy sound of your arousal squelching around his cock mixed with the sharp slap of skin on skin. He kept one hand fisted in your hair and the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks, pulling you back onto him with every thrust like he was trying to bury himself even deeper.
Jungkook continued pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping against your ass with a loud, rhythmic slap. Your moans were constant and broken, your body jolting forward with every brutal thrust while your face stayed pressed against Soobin’s thigh. Jungkook’s grip on your hips was iron-tight, fingers digging into your skin as he used you relentlessly.
He slowed his thrusts just enough to speak, his voice rough and commanding, yet still instructional. “Soobin,” he said, breathing heavily. “Grab her hips. Both hands. I want you to help move her back and forth on my cock. Feel how she takes me. Learn the rhythm she needs.”
Soobin hesitated for a moment, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook’s thick cock disappear inside you again and again. His cheeks were flushed dark red, but after a few seconds, he leaned forward and placed his hands on your hips, right beside Jungkook’s.
“That’s it,” Jungkook encouraged, still buried deep inside you. “Pull her back onto me when I thrust forward. Help her fuck herself on my cock. She loves it deep like this.”
Soobin’s hands tightened on your hips. At first his grip was gentle, almost uncertain, but as Jungkook started moving again, Soobin began pulling you back onto Jungkook’s cock in time with his thrusts. The added force made Jungkook’s cock slam even deeper inside you.
A loud, broken cry ripped from your throat. “Oh my god!” you sobbed, eyes squeezing shut as the new sensation overwhelmed you. Soobin’s familiar hands pulling you back combined with Jungkook’s massive cock stretching and ruining you created an intensity you’d never felt before. Every time Soobin yanked your hips back, Jungkook’s thick length drove into you harder, filling you completely.
Jungkook groaned in approval. “Good. Harder, Soobin. She can take it. Look how her pussy is gripping me every time you pull her back.”
Soobin’s grip grew firmer, more confident. He started pulling your hips back with more strength, helping impale you on Jungkook’s cock over and over again. The wet, filthy sounds grew even louder — the obscene squelching of your soaked pussy mixed with the sharp slap of skin whenever your ass met Jungkook’s hips.
You were falling apart between them.
“Fuck— fuck— it’s so deep!” you cried out, voice muffled against Soobin’s thigh. Your hands clutched desperately at Soobin’s legs, nails digging into his pants as your body was rocked between the two men. “Jungkook’s cock is so big… Soobin, baby, he’s so deep inside me— I can’t”
Jungkook kept a steady, brutal pace while Soobin pulled you back onto him with every thrust. The dual control over your body made you feel completely used, a toy being shared between them. Jungkook’s cock kissed your cervix with every forceful pull, stretching your walls perfectly around his thickness. “That’s it,” Jungkook growled, one hand moving up to grip the back of your neck while Soobin continued manipulating your hips. “Feel how she’s dripping down my cock? She’s fucking loving this. Pull her harder, Soobin. Make her take every inch.”
Soobin obeyed, his fingers pressing deeper into your soft hips as he yanked you back more forcefully. The new intensity made your eyes roll back, loud, shameless moans spilling from your lips as Jungkook fucked you raw and Soobin helped drive you onto him again and again. You were trembling violently, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face, caught in the devastating rhythm the two of them created together.
The combined rhythm was absolutely devastating. Jungkook’s thick cock slamming into you while Soobin pulled your hips back with increasing confidence created a merciless, perfect storm of pleasure. Your moans had turned into constant, broken sobs as your body was rocked between them.
Jungkook’s breathing grew harsher, his thrusts becoming more erratic and deeper. “Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, gripping your hip tighter while Soobin continued helping pull you back onto his cock. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.”
You could only whimper in response, your mind hazy with overwhelming pleasure. Jungkook’s pace turned punishing, slamming into you with short, brutal strokes as he chased his release. With a deep, guttural groan, Jungkook buried himself to the hilt inside you and came hard. You felt every powerful pulse as he emptied himself deep inside your pussy, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your walls. He kept grinding into you, pushing his load even deeper while growling your name under his breath.
The feeling of Jungkook cumming so deep inside you triggered your own orgasm instantly. Jungkook’s grip on your neck tightened as he pounded into you even harder. “That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock. Let go.”
The pressure built impossibly high, tighter and hotter, until it finally snapped. You came harder than you ever had in your life. A loud, guttural scream tore from your throat as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around Jungkook’s cock, and then you were squirting, hard. Clear, hot liquid gushed out around his thick cock with every thrust, soaking his hips, dripping down your thighs. You shook uncontrollably, sobbing and moaning as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed through you. Jungkook didn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm and prolonging it until your vision went white and your legs gave out completely.
“Fuck, look at her,” Jungkook groaned, voice rough with satisfaction. “She’s squirting everywhere. Good girl… such a messy, beautiful girl.”
Your body finally went limp, trembling with aftershocks as Jungkook slowed his thrusts and eventually stilled deep inside you. He stayed buried in your pulsing heat for a long moment, letting you feel every inch of him while you tried to catch your breath. Soobin’s hands gently rubbed your hips, soothing the marks he’d left behind.
Jungkook eventually pulled out slowly, a rush of your combined juices dripping from your ruined pussy. He helped you collapse gently onto the chaise, turning you onto your back so you could breathe easier. Your chest heaved, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, cheeks flushed, and eyes glassy with exhaustion and satisfaction.
Jungkook sat back on his heels, breathing heavily but looking pleased. He glanced at Soobin, then down at your spent body. “That,” he said calmly, “is what she needs. Not just gentle, loving sex. She needs to be fucked properly, deeply, roughly, and without hesitation. She needs variety. She needs to be used and worshipped at the same time.” He looked at you softly. “How do you feel?”
You could barely speak, still floating. “Incredible…” you whispered hoarsely. “I’ve never… felt anything like that.”
Jungkook smiled, then turned back to Soobin. “You did well today. Helping move her like that was a great start. We’ll work on building your confidence and skill. This was only the first session.”
He helped you sit up eventually, handing you a soft towel and a bottle of water from a nearby table. While you recovered, he spoke to both of you about aftercare, communication, and homework, things for Soobin to practice at home before the next appointment.
As you slowly got dressed, your legs still shaky, you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Jungkook. The memory of how he had completely ruined you while Soobin watched was burned into your mind. Soobin was quiet, but he stayed close to you, gently rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to your temple. There was a new tension in the air, something shifted between all three of you.
Before you left, Jungkook leaned against his desk, arms crossed, looking unfairly composed and handsome. “Book your next session soon,” he said with a small, knowing smirk. “We still have a lot to work on… and I think you both know now how much she needs it.”
You left the office leaning on Soobin’s arm, body sore in the most delicious way, your mind already replaying everything that had happened… and wondering how much further Jungkook would take you next time.
everyone knows you as the good girl/nerd. except you’re so fucking tired of that image. (and you’re also very… horny.) so when you decide to be bold and finally go after hoseok — things don’t really go as planned. instead, you end up tangled in a fake relationship with his best friend/campus favorite fuckboy: jeon jungkook.
:: genre/tropes/au :: smau + written , fake dating / fake relationship , slow burn , strangers to friends (a little bit of frenemies?¿) to fuckbuddies to lovers
:: warnings :: no love triangle, university au, frat boys/frat parties, alcohol consumption, judgy!oc - oc is lowk mean, jungkook who’s full of himself, mutual pining, bad decisions, jealousy, eventual written smut, silly ahh fic.
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index:
𑣲 teaser [written]
𑣲 ch: 01 been on my worst [smau]
𑣲 ch: 02 don't need no savior [written]
𑣲 ch: 03 way outta line [smau]
𑣲 ch: 04 kinda like the way i feel [ lwritten]
𑣲 ch: 05 don’t give a fuck [smau]
𑣲 ch: 06 i’ll be there in five [smau]
𑣲 ch: 07 talk too much [written]
𑣲 ch: 08 show each other [smau]
𑣲 ch: 09 other ways to catch you up [smau]
𑣲 ch: 10 on the phone [smau]
𑣲 ch: 11 can you keep it secret? [smau]
𑣲 ch: 12 this time i know [smau]
𑣲 ch: 13 i’ll stay with you [written]
𑣲 ch: 14 just promise you won't [smau]
𑣲 ch: 15 no pics, no postin’ us [smau]
𑣲 ch: 16 just in my nature [written]
𑣲 ch: 17 to be a littlе troublemaker [smau]
𑣲 ch: 18 so wrong but so right [smau]
𑣲 ch: 19 you really likе the way i [smau]
𑣲 ch: 20 when we kiss [written]
𑣲 ch: 21 you reminisce [smau]
𑣲 ch: 22 this ain’t the last time [written]
𑣲 ch: 23 just stay by my side [smau]
𑣲 ch: 24 this ain’t no game [written]
𑣲 ch: 25 won’t play with you [smau]
⤷ch: 25.5 (extra) girl talk [written]
𑣲 ch: 26 you won’t say nothin’ [smau]
𑣲 ch: 27 don’t you be actin’ like that [smau]
𑣲 ch: 28 postin’ us [written]
𑣲 ch: 29 this love just ain’t disposable [smau]
𑣲 ch: 30 just take what’s yours, don’t run from it [written] the end.
