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venusjeon · 1 year ago

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angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn��t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

#bts au #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bangtan imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jeongguk #bangtan #bts x you

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gardenwons · 2 months ago

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I WOULD GIVE UP HEAVEN IF I HAVE TO

SYNOPSIS: Jungwon, a celestial angel bound by the laws of Heaven, finds himself torn between his divine duty and the pull of an earthly feeling, he faces a choice that could shatter the heavens. Yet in the end, what is God in the face of a woman’s love and the lure of forbidden lust?

PAIRINGS: angel!jungwon x angel!reader

GENRE: celestial beings au, forbidden love, smut, angst, fluff (?)

A/N: word count is at 6k, vv sacrilege uve been warned ;P + mean n seducing won <3

The day you first met Jungwon was a whisper of eternity, a moment so brief yet so significant, it rippled through your existence like a stone dropping into a still lake. As a guardian angel, you were accustomed to the constancy of time, the serene repetition of your duties.

Angels were never meant to interfere with humans, never to step beyond the gates of Heaven unless a grand divine intervention was called for. But humanity has grown complacent, content in their free will, leaving angels to guard them solely from afar. No interaction, just silent watchfulness—angels touch forbidden in a world we can never truly know.

You observed, you guided, you protected humanity from a distance, never too close, never too involved. Emotions, especially those that plagued the mortal world, were foreign to you, nothing more than fleeting curiosity. They were indulgences you were never meant to understand.

But then there was him.

Jungwon.

From the moment your eyes met, something about him was different. The air around him seemed to hum with a quiet defiance, as though the very essence of him was a challenge to the order you had always known. It was said that he embodied what the most beautiful angel had, or perhaps now a fallen one. His every glance seemed to carry a depth that tugged at the core of your being, stirring something within you that shouldn’t exist between angels.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way.

The first time you exchanged words wasn’t in the usual manner angels would communicate- through thoughts, intentions, and divine understanding. No, it was in the silence between breaths, in the space between one shared breath and the next. You had taken a brief rest from your duties, your wings fluttering gently in the golden light of Heaven’s plain, when Jungwon appeared beside you. His wings, light and sleek, casting long shadows across the celestial space.

His voice was soft, but it carried a weight that unsettled you. “alluringly strange, aren’t they?” he murmured, his tone contemplative, his eyes locked onto the human world below. “To watch them so closely… yet feel so distant.”

You blinked, startled by the unexpected conversation. For a moment, you hesitated. It was rare for angels to speak so plainly, so openly about their thoughts. Nodding slowly, keeping your gaze fixed on the mortals below, oblivious to the divine beings who watched over them. “It’s how it’s meant to be” you replied, your voice quieter than usual, as if afraid to acknowledge the crack in your own conviction. Terrified the heavens would hear.

Jungwon’s laugh was soft, almost mocking, finding amusement in your response. “And you believe that? that we’re meant to remain detached, distant from them, from everything?”

You glanced at him, frowning slightly. There was something dangerous about the way he spoke, something that made your wings twitch in discomfort. “That is what we are told” you stated, though the words tasted like ash in your mouth. It was what you were told, what you had believed for so long. Yet now, standing beside him, you felt the certainty slipping away, crumbling under the weight of his questions. What was the logic in this rule? Humans can have their free will but to the ones closer to God are bound by strictest constraints, as if divinity itself demands the suppression of choice.

He stepped closer, his presence suddenly more tangible, more magnetic than it had any right to be. The warmth of him radiated through the air, a stark contrast to the cold and distant perfection of Heaven. “What if..” he said, his voice a low murmur “we weren’t meant to be distant at all? What if we’re just… afraid? Afraid of what happens when we get too close?”

Your breath hitched, wings trembling at his words—words that challenged the very core of your existence. Alarms rang in your mind at the defiance he spoke, yet deep within, something stirred—something that ached, something unmistakably human.Your heart, a thing you hadn’t even realized could race, seemed to beat louder in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears. You swallowed thickly, trying to suppress the unfamiliar sensation. “Jungwon...” His name left your lips, a warning, a plea.

His lips curled into a dangerous smile, the kind that made your pulse quicken against your will. “Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, “you’ve never wondered what it feels like to love, to feel, to desire”

His words lingered in the air, forbidden words that sent a shiver down your spine. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died on your tongue. Of course, you had wondered. How could you not? Every moment spent watching the humans, observing their connections, their emotions, their pain, and their pleasure. How could you not be curious? But that was all it was supposed to be—curiosity, as guardian angels are supposed to be. Nothing more.

“I… I’ve wondered,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, as if confessing to a sin that had yet to be committed. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re angels. We’re not supposed to—”

“Supposed to?” Jungwon interrupted, his gaze piercing through you. “We’re not supposed to feel? Not supposed to want?” His wings unfurled slightly, the movement slow and deliberate, and for a brief moment, they brushed against yours just barely. The contact was electric, a jolt of energy that sent heat coursing through you, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Wanting is greed, Jungwon. You know this.” you pleaded, your wings growing anxious as you held his intense gaze.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel it” he whispered, his face now inches from yours. His eyes, deep and dark, seemed to search your soul, as if he could see every thought, every doubt, every desire you had tried to bury from the face of many Angels and God. “You can’t tell me you don’t want it.”

He glanced down from the clouds, his gaze shifting to a small apartment below, where a couple lay intertwined, their limbs tangled together in the intimate closeness only lovers knew. The warmth between them was noticeable, a soft glow of contentment that radiated from their shared breaths, their whispered words. They weren’t bound by divine law, but by something deeper, something that defied heaven’s cold perfection. "Look at them" he murmured, tone somewhat yearning "What they have is real. You can feel it too, if you let yourself."

You couldn’t speak. The words were there, but they refused to come out, tangled up in the storm of emotions that raged inside you. His nearness, the warmth of his body, the soft whisper of his wings. It was overwhelming, intoxicating.

“I... don’t...” you started, your voice trembling. But even as you tried to deny it, the truth lingered in the space between you.

He closed the distance between you, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his touch soft but firm, like he was grounding you to him. “You do” he said quietly, his breath brushing against your skin. “I can see it in your eyes. You want to feel it. what do you feel when you’re with me?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your body betraying you in the way your wings fluttered, the way your breath quickened. This was wrong. You knew it was wrong. But the way his touch set your skin alight, the way his voice made your whole being tremble, it was unlike anything you had ever known. Unlike anything you were ever supposed to know.

You exhaled, a shuddering breath escaping your lips as you leaned into his touch, your forehead resting against his. “What are we doing?” you whispered, your voice heavy with uncertainty, fear, and most of all desire.

Jungwon’s smile softened, and for the first time, it wasn’t dangerous. It was tender. “We are choosing” he murmured. “Choosing something beyond Heaven, beyond what we were told, something that can be ours.”

His words hung in the air like a temptation you could no longer resist.

And for the first time in your existence, you allowed yourself to fall.

For the next few days, you had overused and beaten up your wings, desperately trying to fly anywhere but where Jungwon might be. Every time you felt his presence near, a wave of panic surged through you, pushing you to ascend higher, further, anything to avoid him. But the harder you tried to distance yourself, the more it felt like he was following, swarming up to you persistently, as if he was testing your resolve.

Your heart thudded painfully each time you thought of him. His defiant words echoed in your mind, growing louder despite your attempts to drown them out.

“What do you feel when you’re with me?”

“Choosing something beyond Heaven”

The boldness of his voice. The way he had dared to utter such dangerous thoughts, to let them linger in your head as if they belonged there. It terrified you how much power his words held over you. The tremors of his defiance crept under your skin, crawling their way into your heart, a place where only obedience and light should reside.

How dare he?

Your jaw clenched as you flew through the night sky, trying to clear your head. He was reckless. You were reckless. This was forbidden, after all. There would be consequences. All the angels would know. God would know. Surely, Jungwon wasn’t oblivious to this.

Was he not afraid?

Your thoughts raced faster than your wings could carry you. Was this all a trick? Perhaps the celestials were testing your faith, your devotion to the supreme being, that was the only explanation for how wrong this felt. Yet, no matter how much you wanted to hate Jungwon for planting these doubts, you couldn’t shake the pull he had over you.

You stopped abruptly mid-air, hovering in the thick clouds. It was cold and silent up here, your sanctuary from his presence. But the silence didn’t last.

“Y/N” a voice messed up the stillness, low and soft, with the same warmth that always managed to break through your defences.

You turned sharply to see him, his glowing figure descending through the mist, his expression calm but filled with determination. Both of you glowed in the clouds as your wings fluttered in agitation, but your body betrayed you. You couldn’t move.

“You need to stop running from me” Jungwon said, his tone firm but not unkind. He landed gently, his wings folding behind him as he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

You scoffed, looking away, trying to suppress the shiver his voice sent through you. “I’m not running.” But even you didn’t believe your own words.

“Really?” He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes narrowing. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks like you’ve been avoiding me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, your wings twitching. “What would you like to happen, Jungwon?” You kept your voice steady, trying to mask the turmoil broiling inside you. “Do you want to drag me down with you? Make me lose my faith?”

Jungwon’s expression softened, and for the first time, you saw the hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “That’s not what I want.” He took another step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I just… I want you to understand. I need you to listen to me.”

You clenched your fists, glaring at him. “Understand you? That you’re willing to throw everything away? For what, Jungwon? Some fleeting desire? You know the consequences of defying Him.”

He flinched at your words, but didn’t back down. Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering near yours, his fingers trembling slightly. “I’m not defying Him, Y/N. I’m just questioning things. I’ve seen so much, felt so much, and I—” He stopped, searching for the right words. “I need you to tell me I’m wrong, that this is just in my head.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. This was what terrified you the most because deep down, you couldn’t tell him he was wrong. You felt it too, that undeniable connection, that forbidden pull.

“Jungwon…we cannot question, this is not something we are supposed to do..” you whispered, finally meeting his gaze, your resolve wavering. “This can’t happen. We cannot happen.”

He took a deep breath, closing the space between you, his wings brushing against yours. “I know what we’re supposed to believe. I know what’s expected of us. But when I’m with you… it feels different. Doesn’t it feel different to you?”

Your heart hammered in your chest, your wings trembling as you struggled to find your voice. He was too close, too intense, and you couldn’t think straight. But the truth was already written in the air between you.

Ultimately your eyes gave way to confession, teary doe orbs looking up at him in defeat.

His eyes softened at your confession, a small, almost hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “Then why are you running? Why don’t you want to feel?”

You swallowed hard, tearing your gaze away from his. “Because… because I’m afraid.”

He reached out and gently cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes again. “I’m afraid too, Y/N. But I don’t want to keep ignoring this. For us.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling in your chest. For the first time, you allowed yourself to truly see him—not as the defiant angel who had threatened to upend your world, but as someone who was just as lost and confused as you were.

But the fear was still there, gnawing at the back of your mind like the devil. “What if we fall like him?” you whispered.

Jungwon’s thumb brushed softly against your cheek, thoughts containing nothing but the way you glow under his touch as he answered, “Then we fall together.”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It wasn’t long after that when the two of you finally crossed the line between curiosity and indulgence. What began as short glances became something far more dangerous. The way Jungwon’s eyes lingered on you felt different. It was heavy, charged with an unspoken yearning. Each stolen glance became longer, every shared moment too intimate, too deliberate to be mistaken for an accident.

At first, it was subtle. A brush of wings as you passed by each other in Heaven’s expanse, fingers grazing ever so slightly, a touch that sent a jolt of something forbidden coursing through you. You convinced yourself it was nothing. But when his hand lingered longer on your skin, when your breaths began to sync in spaces that felt too small, too electric, you both knew there was no denying it anymore.

You still knew it was wrong—every stolen touch, every stolen moment. Heaven’s laws were absolute. Angels were never meant to feel love, never meant to desire in ways so primal, so human. Love, passion, and lust, these were things of the mortal world, indulgences you were forbidden from experiencing. And yet, with every passing day, your connection with Jungwon grew deeper, more consuming. What had once been a flicker of curiosity between you became a fire that burned brighter, hotter, threatening to consume you both.

It was under a sky painted with stars that the line between the divine and the forbidden finally shattered. You stood with him, high above the mortal realm, the glow of Heaven's light just out of reach. Jungwon turned to you, his eyes filled with something dangerous, something neither of you could ignore anymore. The air between you was thick with tension, with desire that had been kept on a tight leash for too long.

He reached for you then, slowly, as if giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. His fingers brushed against your jaw, his thumb tracing your lower lip with agonizing softness. You inhaled sharply, feeling the heat of his touch sink into your skin. The moment hung between you, the anticipation crackling like lightning in the air.

When his lips finally met yours, it was like falling. Soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters of something you both knew you had no right to claim. But the moment his mouth touched yours, something inside you broke. A barrier that had kept you tethered to Heaven’s laws shattered under the weight of your desire for him. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a hunger that surprised even you.

His wings unfurled, brushing against yours, the sensation of feather against feather sending sparks down your spine. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you against him until your bodies were flush, his breath mingling with yours, hot and erratic. You pressed yourself closer, needing to feel more, to take more, as if the space between you was suffocating. Every touch was a silent rebellion, a cry against the laws you had followed your entire existence.

“Are you scared?” you whispered against his lips, your voice breathless as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. Your forehead rested against his, the question lingering in the air like the last remnants of doubt.

His eyes, dark and full of something unholy, something that mirrored the desire burning in your own, met yours. His breath was shallow, his grip on your waist tightening as he spoke, “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my existence.”

Your heart raced at his words, at the certainty in his voice. His hands slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your hips, down to your thighs, lifting you just enough so that your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. The moment you did, a growl escaped his throat, low and primal, sending a shiver through your entire body. His lips returned to yours, this time more demanding, more urgent, as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you for even a second.

He carried you backward, your back pressing against the soft clouds beneath you, though it felt as solid as any earthly bed. His wings flared wide, casting shadows over you as his hands explored your body, every touch igniting sparks along your skin. His fingers grazed the hem of your robe, pulling the fabric away inch by inch, exposing the bare skin beneath to the cool night air.

Your breath hitched as Jungwon’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a scorching path in their wake. His teeth grazed your skin, just enough to make you gasp, your body arching beneath him. One of his hands slipped beneath your robe, fingers brushing over your inner thigh, teasing, testing, before slipping higher.

A sharp gasp escaped you as his fingers found the heat between your legs, pressing with deliberate slowness. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the moan building in your throat, but it was useless. The sound slipped past your lips, soft and needy, spurring him on.

Jungwon’s lips returned to yours, devouring your moans as his fingers moved in slow, agonizing circles. You felt yourself unravelling beneath him, every nerve touched with pleasure, every thought consumed by the sensation of his touch. His wings enveloped you, cocooning the two of you in darkness—shielding you from Heaven’s gaze.

“Tell me” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with desire, “tell me you want this.”

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling beneath his touch. “I… I want you,” you confessed, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. “I want you, Jungwon.”

His eyes darkened, something feral flickering in them as he claimed your lips in a bruising kiss. His fingers pressed harder, moving faster, and you could feel yourself teetering on the brink of something dangerous, something forbidden. But just as you neared the edge, everything changed.

In a heartbeat, you were bound. Silken ropes wrapped tightly around your wrists, pinning your arms above your head, your back pressed against a smooth, heavenly pillar. The restraints dug into your skin, not painful, but tight enough to remind you who held the power.

“You look pathetic like this” Jungwon sneered, his voice low and dripping with condescension. He stood over you, his gaze dark and unrelenting, roaming over your vulnerable form. “No celestial being or human could never amount to your beauty”

Yet, in this moment of power, he revelled in your submission, a twisted satisfaction lighting up his features. The tension between you crackled like electricity, and you could feel his breath against your skin, warm and taunting. “It’s almost tragic” he continued as he leaned closer, “how such beauty can be so easily bound and helpless.”

His fingers ghosted down your body, featherlight and taunting. You squirmed, testing the ropes, but they held firm. A sharp tug at your wrists elicited a gasp from your lips, and the helpless, needy sound only made Jungwon’s smirk widen.

“Just think of what I could do with you, all this beauty restrained,” he murmured, the promise of his intentions hanging heavy in the air. “Look at you,” he muttered, his voice laced with cruel amusement. “So desperate. So needy. What a disgrace for an angel.”

Without warning, his hand shot to your throat, gripping tightly enough to make your pulse race beneath his palm. He tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes were filled with something dark, primal, something that made your stomach churn with both fear and desire.

“You think you deserve my touch?” he whispered, his grip tightening just slightly. “You think I’d be gentle after all your disobedience?”

You tried to shake your head, tried to speak, but the pressure on your throat choked off your words. Jungwon’s grip loosened just enough for you to gasp for air, and then his lips were on yours. Going rough, demanding, leaving no room for tenderness. His teeth grazed your bottom lip before biting down hard enough to draw a whimper from you.

“That’s more like it,” he growled against your mouth. “I want to hear you beg.”

He pulled away, his hand trailing down your body, curling around your thighs before forcing them apart. The cool air hit your bare skin, heightening your awareness of every inch of yourself, exposed for his pleasure. His gaze never left your face as his hand slid between your thighs, fingers hovering, teasing, never quite touching where you needed him most.

“Beg for it” he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. “Tell me how much you want this.”

You squirmed beneath him, your wrists tugging at the restraints as you tried to press closer. “Please, Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice shaky, “please… touch me.”

Jungwon’s laugh was cold and mocking. His fingers brushed against you, just enough to make you gasp, before pulling away entirely. “Is that the best you can do?” he taunted. “Pathetic. You’ll have to beg harder than that.”

A flush of heat crept up your face, your body burning with need. “Please” you whimpered, your voice breaking with desperation. “I need you… I’ll do anything.”

A cruel smile curved his lips as he finally pressed his fingers against your clit, slow and teasing, sending waves of pleasure through your trembling body. You arched against the pillar, a soft moan escaping your lips, but Jungwon’s other hand gripped your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his.

“Keep your eyes on me” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “I want to see every second of your surrender.”

His fingers moved faster, slipping inside you with a practiced, ruthless precision. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to keep you on the edge of release, but never quite letting you tip over. You writhed beneath him, your body aching for release, but the cruel gleam in Jungwon’s eyes told you he wasn’t going to give it easily.

“Look at you, pretty angel~ falling apart with just my fingers. Do you even realize how weak you are right now? How easily I could break you?”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your body trembling with need. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, desperate for more, but Jungwon wasn’t done playing with you yet.

“Beg me to let you come” he commanded, his voice rough and unforgiving.

“Please” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Please, Jungwon… I need it. Please let me come.”

Jungwon’s smirk deepened as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

With that, his fingers slowed, keeping you teetering on the brink of release, but never granting you the satisfaction. He watched you squirm, his cruel laughter filling your ears as you struggled against the golden ropes, your body shaking with the overwhelming need for more.

“You’ll come when I decide” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “Until then, you’re mine to toy with.”

Jungwon’s smirk softened as he looked down at you, your body trembling beneath him, bound and helpless in the ropes he’d tied with such care. His thumb grazed your cheek, and for a moment, the cruel glint in his eyes faded, replaced by something deeper, something more intimate.

"You look so perfect like this," he whispered, loosening the bonds around your wrists. His fingers lingered where the silk had dug into your skin, rubbing the marks softly. "But I’m not done with you yet."

Your wrists fell free, and as you collapsed into him, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest. He was still so firm, so in control, yet his touch was different, now gentler, but no less commanding. His lips brushed your forehead, soft and reverent, like a promise.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “But only because you’ve been so good for me.”

You shuddered as his hands slid down your body, no longer teasing, but steady and sure. He lowered you back down to the soft clouds beneath you, his eyes locked on yours, dark with desire but softened by something warmer now. His fingers trailed along your thighs, and when he positioned himself between them, the world seemed to slow, the air thick with anticipation.

“You still want this?” His voice was low, almost vulnerable, as though he needed to hear you say it again.

“I want you” you breathed, your hands reaching up to touch his face, pulling him closer. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Jungwon’s lips found yours in a kiss that was slow and deep, a kiss that spoke of everything unsaid between you. Desire, defiance, and something more dangerous. His body pressed against yours, and you could feel every inch of him, hard and ready, but holding back just enough to make you ache with longing.

He broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

Slowly, carefully, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. For a moment, there was no dominance, no power play, just the raw connection between you two, something that defied the very laws you had once sworn to uphold.

And then, with one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside you. The sensation was overwhelming. He filled you completely, stretching you in ways that made you gasp, your body arching against him. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he settled into a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“God” you moaned, your fingers digging into his arms as he moved, your body melting beneath him.

Jungwon chuckled softly, his lips brushing your jaw. “Not quite” he teased, his voice low and husky. “But I’ll make you feel like it.”

His pace quickened, his hips rolling in a rhythm that was almost hypnotic, his body moving with an effortless grace that made it impossible to think of anything but the pleasure building inside you. His wings, usually tucked away, spread out around you both, creating a cocoon of feathers and warmth, shielding you from the world, from Heaven’s judging eyes.

“Look at me” he commanded softly, and when you did, the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. "I want to see you when you fall apart."

You whimpered, your hands clinging to his shoulders as his thrusts became deeper, more urgent, driving you closer and closer to the edge. His fingers curled around your thighs, pulling them up to wrap around his waist, and the new angle sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you gasp.

“Jungwon” you moaned, your voice trembling, “I... I can’t—”

“Yes, you can” he growled, his lips brushing your ear as he thrust harder, his body pressing down against yours, his pace relentless. “You’re going to come for me, and I’m going to watch you break.”

You were so close, nearing on the edge of release, every nerve in your body alight with the sensation of him, filling you, consuming you. Your breaths came in uneven, shaky gasps, your body quivering beneath him. Yet, he kept you pinned in place, his fingers pressing into your skin, anchoring you to him.

"Say my name" he commanded, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Say it when you come."

His thumb brushed against the sensitive spot between your legs, rubbing slow, deliberate circles in time with his thrusts, and that was all it took. You came undone beneath him, your body arching off the clouds as the pleasure crashed over you, your hands gripping his arms as you cried out his name.

“Jungwon!” The word spilled from your lips, raw and breathless, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure tore through you. He watched you the entire time, his eyes dark with satisfaction as you fell apart beneath him.

And then with a final thrust, he followed you over the edge. His body shuddered as he came inside you, filling you completely. His grip on your hips tightened, his breath ragged against your neck as he buried himself deep within you, his release leaving him trembling in your arms.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you lost in the aftermath, your bodies tangled together in the warmth of each other’s embrace. Slowly, Jungwon pulled out, his hands gentle as he lowered you back onto the clouds, his body still hovering over yours, protective and possessive.

His fingers brushed your cheek, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were softer than you had ever seen them before.

“You’re mine” he whispered, his lips pressing softly against your forehead, a promise in every word. “Always mine.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to breathe, but you couldn’t look away. The ropes were gone, but the invisible link between you and Jungwon felt stronger than ever.

“I’m yours” you whispered, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

Jungwon smiled, a real, soft smile that sent warmth flooding through you. He leaned down, kissing you again, this time with tenderness, the ferocity of his earlier dominance replaced by something deeper, something that felt almost like love.

And as he held you close, the weight of your defiance hung in the air, but it no longer felt like a burden. With Jungwon beside you, it felt like freedom.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Heaven was quick to notice. The divine realm was not blind to such transgressions, and the whispers of your defiance reached the ears of the highest angels. You and Jungwon were summoned, the sacred halls echoing with the weight of your sin, warned to sever the bond that had ignited between you before it was too late. But the love you shared had already become your heaven—more sacred, more intoxicating than any celestial paradise could ever offer.

The Council of Seraphim loomed before you, their eyes cold and condemning, wings aglow with the pure, searing light of Heaven. Their gazes felt like knives against your skin, their judgement tearing at the very fabric of your existence. They told you that if you didn’t end it, this forbidden love, you would be cast out. Fallen from grace. Stripped of your wings, your immortality, your divinity. Everything.

And still, you hesitated. Because how could eternity in Heaven ever compare to a single moment in Jungwon’s arms?

Lucifer’s name was invoked, a warning etched in whispers that spread like wildfire through the ethereal clouds. Gasps echoed through the heavens, the horror of it rippling like a wave, a reminder of what happens to angels who want more. More than servitude. More than blind obedience. More than the perfection of paradise.

“Lucifer chose greed over duty, and now he reigns in hell” one of the Seraphim hissed, their wings flaring in anger. “Is this the path you choose as well?”

Jungwon, standing beside you, his jaw set and eyes burning with quiet defiance, reached for your hand. His fingers slid into yours, warm, trembling but unshakable in their conviction. That single touch… so human, so raw, that it grounded you, even as the weight of the Seraphim’s words threatened to crush you.

"Let them take everything from us" he whispered, his voice steady despite the judgement raining down upon him like fire. "They can have their paradise. As long as I have you, I already have heaven."

Tears stung your eyes, your heart breaking under the truth of his words. The reality of what you were about to lose weighed down on you like an anchor, dragging you into the depths of your sorrow. You tried to imagine it, tried to picture life without the wings that had carried you through eternity. The light of Heaven fading from your soul. The cold, eternal exile. Your body shook, not just with fear but with the knowledge that this choice would ruin you.

“I can’t…” Your voice cracked, barely a whisper, your tears finally falling. “I can’t lose everything.”

Jungwon’s grip tightened around your hand, his eyes softening for just a moment. “You’re not losing everything,” he murmured. “You’re choosing everything that matters. I’ll be with you. Wherever we go, no matter what happens.”

The Seraphim’s voices thundered, condemning you both. The words "fallen," "disgrace," and "damnation" crashed around you, suffocating your last ties to the divine. Yet amid the chaos, all you could hear was Jungwon. His presence, his love, was the only thing keeping you from breaking apart completely.

You closed your eyes, the weight of Heaven's judgement pressing down on you like an avalanche. You could feel your wings begin to tremble, the shimmering light that once radiated from them dimming, fading away. Your immortality, your celestial power—it was all slipping through your fingers. And still, all you could think of was him.

“Are you scared?” you asked, your voice a fragile whisper, barely able to meet his gaze.

Jungwon smiled, soft and full of that quiet, defiant strength. Everything that he was reassured you, “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my existence.”

His words were a bandaid to your soul, a tether pulling you back from the edge of despair. You knew then, in that moment, that there was no other choice. No amount of divine glory, no promise of eternal light, could rival the love you shared. The bond that had been forged between you was too strong, too real. More real than anything Heaven could offer.

With trembling hands, you reached for your wings, feeling the divine energy pulse beneath your fingertips one last time before you let it go. The glow dimmed, the feathers withered, and then, they fell. One by one, your wings disintegrated, leaving you exposed, fragile—human.

The Seraphim watched in silence as your fall from grace became complete. But there was no turning back now. You had made your choice.

As the last of your wings faded into nothingness, you looked at Jungwon, his wings still intact but now dark, tarnished by your shared sin. He pulled you into his arms, holding you so close you could feel the beat of his heart against your chest.

"Together, my love" he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "We’ll face this together."

And as the gates of Heaven closed behind you, casting you into the abyss of exile, you realized that the real paradise wasn’t in the clouds or the light of Heaven. It was here, in his arms, in the love you had chosen over everything.

And even though you had fallen, with Jungwon by your side, you had never felt so free.

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