k p o p ➳ dreambook

j j k ➳ blood sweat and tears ✈️

[2:31] now playing: blood sweat and tears - bts

[warnings] miss kink, body worshipping, thigh kink, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex (you're on the pill ofc), hickeys, semi-public sex???, handjob, bondage, praise, virgin!servant!jungkook x queen!reader, royalty au

1st person // 5.5k words

[a/n] request are now CLOSED until further notice! once I've finished with all or most of the previous requests, I will open them back up. sorry for the inconvenience ♡

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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I stare vacantly at the diamond encrusted piece twinkling against the nape of my neck, dripping down towards my cleavage and spilling into my collarbones. then shift to my slightly distorted reflection, one long, skinny crack along the mirror running across my caked face. the mirror was part of a custom rose gold vanity set, too special to replace.

I released a much needed sigh, flicking away a clump of mascara that had fallen onto my cheek. then I rummaged through my small saucer that I threw all my earrings in. little pink roses with dainty stems linked together around the rim, a small chunk chipped off into a small, sad triangular piece abused by thick layers of superglue.

my servants never understood why I had an "unnecessary yearning" for keeping broken things. apparently, because I'm royalty, I'm not allowed to cherish things because of their deep, sentimental meaning since they could be replaced with a snap of a finger, or at least that's how I was enlightened by my mother's stylist.

just because I'm a soon-to-be queen, doesn't mean I can't have feelings or have to be insanely materialistic. I always look into the deeper meaning of things, not the condition or how expensive it is. which is why I still kept everything my mother had given me. but, whatever, what I call therapeutic is what they call accumulating and gratuitous.

speaking of broken things, I called out to my personal servant. "jeon jeongguk!" automatically, I could hear him stumbling down the halls and felt the wind from my french doors opening fleetly. I had to stifle back a smile. "yes, your majesty?!" he panted, sluggishly. the fresh blush on his cheeks and the tips of ears told me he hadn't meant to be as loud and disruptive. this time, I let the chuckle fly out freely.

I took a second to adore the red tuxedo that draped over his black, silk button up, the first button undone as always. his muscular thighs were prominent beneath his pants, as well as his unmistakable bulge that just always wanted to be noticed. his helmet of hair was moderately messy from running around the castle and yanking on it, stressfully. I was surprised he didn't sneak a pair of earrings on as he usually did, not even on a single lobe. however, he still wore the light smokey eyeshadow I applied earlier today for the special occasion. it seemed to camouflage with his fatigued eyes.