(àčâ ): You left a monster behind, not knowing you were walking straight into the arms of something worse.
pairing: boxer!jk x y/n
warnings: heavy/explicit smut, obsession, yandere tendency, violence, controlling, jungkook isn't a saint
word count: 9k+
âFuck this life.â You snickered as you walked out of the university. Your stomach growled loudly, begging for food. You had not eaten anything since you arrived at the campus. You would rather starve for a while than spend money on the food there, since everything was too expensive. You kept reminding yourself that you were lucky to be a scholar in a prestigious school and that you should endure it.
'Just two more years.' You told yourself that again. You only needed to hold on a little longer. Once you finished your nursing degree, you would leave that place and take your younger brother, Shon, away from the hell you both lived in.
You arrived home and found him sitting on the floor. He was drawing on a piece of paper. The moment he saw you, he ran toward you with a smile.
âI miss you, noona.â He hugged you tightly, his face pressed against your stomach.
You touched his hair and knelt down to hug him back. âI miss you too, sweetie.â
He sat again and returned to his drawing. You placed your bag down and asked, âWhat are you drawing, baby?â He showed you the paper.
Your smile slowly faded. In the drawing, there were three figures: you, him, and your father. Shon had drawn horns on your fatherâs head, making him look like a devil.
Even at a young age, he already knew how cruel your father was. Sometimes you wondered if things would have been different if your mother were still alive. Would your father stop drinking? Would he stop doing illegal things? Would he stop hitting you? Would he stop stealing from you?
You had always dreamed of having a normal family. A mother and a kind father. A warm home that felt safe. But you already accepted that it would never happen when you were sixteen.
âShon, I will buy us food. Stay here, okay?â You kissed his forehead before walking to your small room. You turned on the light. Your heart sank. Your hidden money box was open on your bed. Empty.
Your father stole from you again. This time, you felt something snap inside you. That money was for Shonâs kindergarten fees. You could not let this slide.
You stormed out of the room and ran outside. Shon stayed in the living room, still drawing, unaware of what was happening.
You kept running until you reached a large building. Cars filled the parking area. You knew this place well. This was where the underground boxing fights happened. Your father usually hung around here, betting, drinking, or causing trouble.
You wiped the sweat on your forehead and took a deep breath before slipping into the building. The air inside was heavy with smoke, sweat, and loud voices. People were shouting, laughing, arguing. You kept your head down and moved through the crowd, trying not to be noticed.
Your eyes searched for your father. You knew he always stayed near the betting tables or the back corners where he met with men you did not want to know.
You walked quietly, your hands shaking with anger. Every time you remembered the empty money box, you felt heat rise in your chest. That money was for Shon. You worked for it. You saved every coin and he took it like it was nothing.
You heard familiar laughter near the back. The kind of laugh that made your stomach twist.
You turned your head and saw him. Your father sat with a group of men, drinking and smoking, completely relaxed. He looked happier here than he ever did at home. The sight made your jaw clench.
You stepped closer, ready to shout, ready to take back what was yours. But before you could open your mouth, a shadow moved near the boxing ring. The crowd began to cheer as someone climbed through the ropes.
The infamous underground boxer was inside the ring. You had seen posters of him around the city. Jungkook. People said he was unbeatable, people said he was dangerous, people said he had no mercy once he set his eyes on something.
You tried to look away and focus on your father again, but Jungkookâs head suddenly turned. His eyes scanned the crowd. They were dark, cold, sharp.
And then they stopped, right on you.
You froze. It felt like he could see straight through you, his gaze did not move. It did not blink. He looked almost curious, almost hungry.
The men around him shouted his name, but he did not look away. You felt your heart beat faster, not from fear of your father anymore, but from the strange feeling that this man was studying you.
Someone beside him tried to speak to him, but Jungkook only tilted his head slightly, as if you had become the most interesting thing in the room.
You swallowed hard and forced yourself to keep walking toward your father, pretending you did not notice the way the boxer stared. But even with your back turned, you could feel it. Jungkook did not look away.
You pushed through a group of drunk men and stepped closer to your fatherâs table. Your hands were balled into fists, and your throat felt tight. He did not even notice you at first. He was too busy laughing at something one of the men said.
âDad.â Your voice came out sharper than you intended. His head snapped toward you. His face twisted the moment he recognized you.
âThe hell are you doing here?â he asked. His words were slurred, his eyes half red.
âYou took my money.â You kept your voice low and calm. You did not want to cause a scene, not here. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. âSo what? It is my house. My rules.â
âThat money was for Shonâs school.â You felt your nails dig into your palm. âGive it back.â He laughed, not a normal laugh. A mocking one, the kind that made you feel small.
You stepped closer. âI mean it. Give it back.â One of his drinking buddies whistled. âFeisty kid.â
âWatch your mouth,â you muttered. Your father slammed his bottle on the table. âStop talking back. You think you are better than me just because you study in some fancy school?â
Your heart pounded. People were starting to look. You could not let the situation get bigger. Shon was alone at home. You needed to fix this fast.
âPlease,â you said quietly. âI worked hard for that money. Just give it back.â Your father stood up. He was towering over you now. You smelled the alcohol on his clothes.
âYou do not order me around,â he said. âYou are just a burden, always have been.â His words hit you harder than his fists ever had. You felt your vision blur for a moment, but you did not move away. You refused to back down this time.
But then a strange silence spread over the area. As if the whole room paused for a second. You felt it before you understood it, someone was behind you.
A cold shiver crawled up your spine. You turned your head slowly, and the noise of the underground ring faded into nothing. The infamous underground boxer stood there.
Not just close, but towering over you. The lights above hit his skin, making the sweat on his chest glisten. His eyes were fixed on you like you had done something to wake him up. Like you were the only thing he saw.
The room went quiet, almost unnaturally so. People moved out of his way without being told, like prey sensing a predator. You could feel the change in the air, even the men your father drank with avoided his gaze.
No one wanted Jungkookâs attention, no one. Finally, your father noticed the sudden silence and looked up. His drunken grin disappeared the moment he saw who was standing behind you.
âShitâŠâ someone whispered. Jungkook didnât glance at them. His eyes were on you. He scanned your face, then the hand your father still had on your arm. His jaw tightened, a muscle flexing sharply with anger. He didnât say anything, but the tension around him was louder than any shout.
You didnât move. Your fatherâs hand hovered near your arm, but his posture stiffened. The smell of cheap beer was replaced by something cleaner, sharper sweat, leather, and a hint of expensive cologne that felt completely out of place here.
Jungkook was so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, the kind that comes from intense focus and power. Your father, the man who had scared you all your life, began to shake, not with anger, but fear.
âJungkook,â he slurred, instantly losing his harsh tone. âDidnât see you there, son. Just a family thing. We were justââ
Jungkook didnât look at him. His dark eyes stayed on you, noticing the small panic on your face, the tension in your jaw. Your father was like a buzzing insect he barely tolerated because it was near you.
Then Jungkook moved.
It wasnât a shove or a punch. It was a sharp, controlled motion. His hand shot out, not to your fatherâs face, but to the wrist holding your shoulder. He didnât squeeze hard, not visibly, but it was enough to make your father gasp.
âLet go,â Jungkook said, his voice low, deep, and commanding, vibrating through the floor. There was no anger or emotion, just absolute authority.
Your father yanked his hand back like heâd been burned, clutching his wrist. He stumbled, hitting the sticky table and sending a few coins clattering to the floor.
âSheâs my blood, kid!â your father protested, trying to sound tough, but the whine in his voice gave him away.
Jungkook finally looked at him, a cold, sharp glance that promised pain without a word. Your fatherâs friends, once bold, now stared at anything but the scene, fascinated by their own sleeves, their own shirts.
Jungkook turned back to you, his gaze heavy and unrelenting. Under the harsh lights, you felt exposed, small.
âWhat did he take?â he asked, his voice direct and demanding.
You froze, your instincts urging you to run but the thought of Shonâs kindergarten fees burned brighter than fear.
âMy savings,â you whispered, hating how tiny your voice sounded. âFor my brotherâs school. All of it.â
Something flickered in Jungkookâs eyes. It wasnât sympathy, maybe recognition, maybe irritation that someone had wronged what he cared about.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out a thick bundle of bills, held together with a rubber band. It was more than youâd hidden in your tin box.
âHow much?â he asked.
âThirty eight thousand won,â you said, barely above a whisper.
Jungkook counted roughly, peeled off a few bills, then doubled it, pressing the cash into your hand.
Your fingers closed around the warm paper. It felt like a lifeline.
âTake it,â he said.
You stuffed the money into your pocket. This man had fixed your problem in thirty seconds with almost no effort.
âNow, get out,â he ordered. His words werenât for you, they were for your father, who was still trying to argue.
âWaitâJungkook. You canât justââ
The boxer took one slow step toward your father. It was barely a movement, but it carried the weight of a hammer.
âIâm fighting tonight,â Jungkook said, his voice dropping to a near whisper that somehow cut through the shouting crowd. âI donât like distractions. Leave, or be the warm-up.â
That was enough. Your fatherâs face went pale, realizing just how dangerous Jungkook was. He swallowed hard, stepped back from the table, and without another word, slipped into the shadows of the exit. His drinking buddies followed, scattering like frightened birds.
You stood there, breathing hard. The stolen money was safe, but now all your attention was on Jungkook.
âThank you,â you managed to say, cheeks burning. You should leave, Shon was waiting. Jungkook tilted his head, dark hair damp and clinging to his forehead. He barely moved, but his stare was suffocating. He watched your chest rise and fall, your rapid blinking, the trembling of your hand around the money.
âYouâre hungry,â he stated, not asked. It was like a predator noting the weakness of its prey. You ignored the gnawing in your stomach. âI need to go home. My brother is waiting.â
His lips curved slightly, a faint, unsettling expression that wasnât exactly a smile.
âYou came here for him,â he murmured, his voice scratchy, intimate, barely audible over the roar of the arena. He stepped closer, closing the distance until you had to meet his gaze.
âDonât come back here, Y/N,â he said, using your name as if he had known it forever. You hadnât told him.
Your blood ran cold. âHow do youââ
âItâs a bad place for you,â he interrupted, scanning your worn sweatshirt and the exhaustion under your eyes. He lifted a heavy, calloused hand, and you flinched, expecting a strike.
Instead, his thumb brushed lightly just below your earlobe, a shockingly gentle touch in the middle of all this tension.
âIf you need money, Scholar,â he said, his voice so low only you could hear, âDonât ask him, ask me.â
There was a sharp focus in his eyes now, a possessive, almost territorial edge. He dropped his hand, turned, and climbed effortlessly through the ropes back into the brightly lit ring, leaving you alone in the smoky crowd. You clutched the money that could save your life, terrified by the cost of that salvation.
You watched him settle in the center of the ring. The crowd roared: Jungkook! Jungkook!Already forgetting the small drama that had just happened. He was the eye of chaos, the embodiment of danger. But just before the bell rang, he glanced over his opponentâs shoulder, straight into the shadows where you stood.
He found you instantly. That same unnerving half-smile appeared on his lips, the one that made it clear you had just walked out of one nightmare and into the sightline of another, far stronger and far more dangerous. And this one knew your name.
The roar of the crowd hit like a physical force, vibrating through the concrete and into your bones. But your attention stayed on him, the man who had dismantled your fear with a single, precise gesture.
You clutched the bills in your pocket, thirty eight thousand won. A lifeline from a man who existed in a world entirely separate from yours, a boxer, a fighter, a predator.
Your father had been a petty monster, fueled by cheap liquor and resentment. Jungkook was something else. Something far more dangerous. A coiled spring, a force of nature wrapped in human form. And he knew your name.
The memory of his thumb brushing your skin, the low rumble of his voice promising protection? possession? It sent a shiver down your spine, sharp and thrilling.
You turned, the money heavy in your pocket, and pushed through the crowd. The smell of beer and sweat now mingled with the metallic tang of adrenaline and the faint, intoxicating scent of Jungkookâs expensive cologne. It was the scent of a different world one where problems were solved with force and unspoken threats.
As you navigated the throng, one thought pierced your mind like his gaze had: he hadnât just given you money. He had taken something, too. Your fatherâs power, his threats, they were gone. And in that moment, Jungkook had claimed a piece of you. He had seen your fear, your desperation, and become the storm that swept it all away.
You finally reached the exit. The cool night air hit your face, a relief after the chaos inside. The city sounded quiet, almost strange after the roar of the arena. You should go home, pay Shonâs fees, tuck him in, and try to forget everything that had happened.
But Jungkookâs eyes stayed in your mind.
He had called you âScholar.â
He saw how hard you were trying, how you were working for your brother with nothing but your hands and a worn university sweatshirt.
He had noticed your tired eyes. And he had offered to help.
But it didnât feel like a simple offer. It felt like a claim.
Not your father. Not anyone else. Him.
A low growl from the alley made you jump. Your father. He hadnât really gone. He was hiding in the shadows, like a wounded animal waiting to attack.
But now, his anger felt weak. Compared to Jungkook, your father was nothing. Just a small candle next to a roaring fire.
âYou think that pretty boy can save you?â your father slurred. âHeâs just another fighter. Heâll break you like everyone else.â
You stopped. The money in your pocket felt heavy. You could run, pretend you didnât hear him. But something inside you had changed after Jungkookâs words, his touch, his presence.
âNo,â you said, voice steady. âHeâs not like you.â
Your father reached for your arm, but you didnât move. Your father recoiled, as if you had hit him. He wasnât used to this version of you, strong, unafraid and it shook him.
âYouâre a fool,â he spat, but he didnât sound sure. He knew he had lost, lost his control, lost your fear. He turned and disappeared into the shadows.
You exhaled, relief washing over you. One threat was gone. But the bigger one, the man in the ring with dark eyes, a quiet voice, and dangerous power, that one was only beginning.
You looked back towards the arena, the music still pulsing like a frantic heartbeat. Jungkook was in there, fighting. And he had looked for you. He had found you. He had offered you a choice, a dangerous bargain.
The money in your pocket felt heavy, a reminder of what had just happened. It wasnât just cash. It felt like a deal, a responsibility. You had to use it wisely. You had to protect Shon. And now, you had to figure out how to handle the dangerous world Jungkook had just pulled you into.
You took a slow breath. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the dirty city air. It felt like the beginning of something new, something risky. You had escaped your father, only to end up in the sights of someone far stronger. Someone who knew your name.
Jungkookâs fight might have been finished, but yours was only starting. The music still pounded from inside the arena, heavy enough to shake the ground. Instead of heading to the bright main street, you found yourself drifting toward the service alley beside the building, as if some invisible pull from Jungkook was guiding your steps.
You didnât wait long. A black SUV rolled up quietly and stopped beside you. It looked expensive, armored, out of place beside the grimy walls. The back door opened, and the inside light switched on.
Jungkook sat there. He wasnât in his fight gear anymore. He wore black tailored pants and a charcoal shirt with the top buttons undone, showing a fresh bruise forming near his collarbone. Even cleaned up, he looked powerful, solid shoulders, tense posture, the faint smell of sweat and cologne wrapping around him like heat.
âGet in, Scholar,â he said. His tone was low and calm, but it was still a command. You froze, hugging your bag. âI need to go home. Shon is waitingââ
âShon is fine,â he cut in, his eyes steady on yours. âHeâs with your neighbor. You have thirty minutes before you need to go back.â
Your breath caught. He hadnât just watched you tonight, he knew your routines, your life, your weak spots. The thought scared you but it also sparked a strange curiosity inside you.
Slowly, you climbed into the SUV. The door shut behind you with a soft, expensive thud, shutting out the noise of the city. Inside, it was quiet. Too quiet. All you could really feel was the heat rolling off him, the leftover energy of someone who had just been in a fight.
âThe money,â you said, trying to sound calm even though your pulse was racing. âI need to know the terms. Thirtyâeight thousand won isnât a gift.â
Jungkook didnât look at the money you pulled out. Instead, he reached out and grabbed your hand swift, firmand pressed it against his thigh, holding it there. The move was so quick, so sure, it stole your breath. His hand was rough, warm, and impossibly steady.
âItâs not a gift.â His eyes finally lowered to your face, sharp and intense. âItâs payment for your obedience.â
You felt your throat tighten. âObedience to what?â
âTo this.â
He leaned in close, and everything else faded away. He didn't kiss you softly. It was rough and strong, tasting like blood and mint. His lips pushed hard, making you react right away. He wiped away the dirt from the bad world outside and filled you with his sharp want.
This wasn't sweet love. It was him taking control of you. Each move of his tongue and each squeeze of his big hands on your jaw said: 'You needed my help. Now you're mine because of it.'
You tried to pull away, words of fear stuck in your throat, but he moved fast. He pressed your body hard against the car door, his weight holding you down. His smell leather, sweat, and power overwhelmed you, choking and exciting at the same time.
"Your father touched you," he growled low against your lips, his voice rough and scary. His eyes stayed open, staring at you, making you see his anger. "He went after what's mine now. He won't get the chance again."
His words hit like a punch. You suddenly saw that his safety came with him owning you. He had stopped your father's danger, but now he was the new boss, a smarter, stronger, more frightening one.
His hands slid down, quick and firm, ripping your worn uniform open. The scrape of his fingers on your bare skin shocked you, but even more shocking was the hot rush inside you, a mix of scare and gladness that someone was in charge, even if it was total control.
"Scholar," he whispered, pulling back a bit to see your eyes go foggy with fear and growing heat. He moved closer, his body felt like a solid wall. He wasn't asking if it was okay; he was making you accept his rules. His strength wasn't just his muscles; he knew your tired soul. He saw how worn out you were and gave you a risky way to forget for a while.
He lifted your chin, making you look right at him. "For the next thirty minutes, you're just one thing. Mine to protect. Mine to wreck."
Those tough, owning words broke your last fight. The push to be tough and keep battling just vanished. In its place came a basic need to give in to this huge power that offered calm even if it meant losing your freedom.
The next minutes were a wild mess of heat and fast moves. Your body arched involuntarily under his touch, every muscle of yours ache as Jungkook drove into you with unyielding force. His cock stretched your pussy wide, slamming deep with each punishing thrust, the slick friction building a fire that bordered on pain. The car's suspension creaked faintly beneath the rhythm of his hips, but the world outside faded to irrelevance, there was only the raw invasion of his body claiming yours, marking you from the inside out.
He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging into soft flesh as he pulled you onto him, forcing you to take every inch. "Mine," he growled low, the word vibrating through his chest into yours. Sweat beaded on his skin, dripping onto your exposed breasts where he'd ripped your uniform open, leaving the tattered remnants hanging like a flag of surrender. His mouth descended again, teeth grazing your collarbone before latching onto a nipple, sucking hard until you cried out, the sharp pull sending jolts straight to your core.
You clawed at his shoulders, nails scraping over the taut muscles of his back, but it only spurred him on. He laughed darkly against your skin, the sound rough and conquering, as he shifted his angle to hit that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Your thighs trembled around his waist, the confined space of the backseat amplifying every sensation, the sticky slide of your arousal coating his shaft, the slap of skin on skin echoing like a profane drumbeat.
"Feel that?" he rasped, his breath hot against your ear as he pinned your wrists above your head with one massive hand. His other slid between your bodies, thumb circling your clit with brutal precision, rubbing in tight, insistent strokes that had you bucking wildly. "This pussy clenches for me now, only for the man who owns it." The possessiveness laced his voice like venom, but it ignited something feral in you, a desperate need to shatter under his control.
The pressure coiled tighter, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you harder, faster, his cock throbbing inside your tightening walls. He released your wrists only to wrap a hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, heightening the rush. "Come for me, Scholar," he commanded, his eyes locking onto yours, dark and unblinking.
The orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your pussy spasming around him, milking his length as waves of pleasure ripped through your core. You screamed his name, the sound muffled against his shoulder as your body convulsed, juices soaking the leather seat beneath you. He didn't stop, pounding through your climax, chasing his own release.
With a loud growl, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he came, flooding your pussy with hot spurts of cum. He held you there, grinding deep, ensuring every drop stayed inside, sealing the claim. His weight collapsed onto you for a moment, both of you panting in the humid aftermath, his forehead pressed to yours.
Slowly, he pulled back, his softening cock slipping free with a wet sound, a trail of your mixed fluids leaking onto your thigh. He watched it with satisfaction, then reached down to smear it back over your folds, possessive even in the afterglow. "That's better," he murmured, voice husky from exertion.
The city lights flickered through the tinted glass, a harsh reminder of the dangers waiting outside, but in that hanging moment, wrapped in his arms, the exhaustion that had plagued you for so long felt distant.
When it was over, he didnât move away right away. He rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard, his big hand still holding the back of your head. The air inside the expensive car felt thick warm with leftover tension and the strong smell of sweat and adrenaline.
He finally pulled back. He calmly fixed his shirt, smoothing the fabric as if nothing had happened, while you were still trying to steady your breathing. Then he reached into the glove compartment and took out a small velvet box heavy for its size and handed it to you.
"This isnât payment," he said. His eyes were sharp, unreadable. "This is a marker. Use the money for Shon. Use this when you need people to understand that youâre not someone they can use anymore."
You opened the box. Inside was a simple silver ring, plain, solid, and undeniably heavy. It looked less like jewelry and more like a warning, something that claimed you.
Jungkook started the engine. The quiet thrum of the SUV filled the space. "Your thirty minutes are up, Scholar. Go home. Make Shon dinner. Study. Do what you need to do." His voice softened, but the words were no less frightening. "Just know this, I didnât help you so you could walk away. I helped you so I could be the only person you rely on, and I always collect what Iâm owed."
He drove you to the edge of the alley, close enough to the main street. The car slowed, the back door clicking open. You stepped out, unsteady, the cold air hitting your flushed skin. Then the SUV rolled away and disappeared into the darkness.
You stood there alone, shaking, holding the velvet box in one hand and the ring inside it. His scent, expensive cologne mixed with raw power clung to your skin, refusing to fade.
You held the ring and the stack of bills tightly. You had traded one monster for another. This new one, Jungkook, had given you a way to survive, even as he claimed control over your life. The fight was over for the night, but the real challenge had just begun. You knew, with a sinking feeling, that you were already losing.
The service alley led you out onto the main street, which felt too bright and too loud. The music still pounded, but it was distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears. You shivered in the warm summer air, feeling less like yourself and more like an empty shell.
The money, thirty eight thousand won, felt impossibly heavy in your hand, a weight that reminded you of the debt you now carried. The ring, cool and solid in its velvet box, was even heavier, a silent contract marked in sweat and fear.
You did not look back. You moved automatically, following the streets toward the worn apartment building you called home. Shon was where Jungkook said he would be, next door with Mrs. Choi, the kind neighbor who looked out for him in exchange for small favors. The handoff was quick. Shon, focused on his coloring books, barely looked up. He frowned when he saw your shaking hands.
"Are you okay, Noona? You smell funny," he asked.
"Iâm fine, Shon," you lied, forcing a tight smile. "Just the arena air. Go take a shower. Iâll start dinner."
Once he was safely locked in the bathroom, you put the money into the hidden panel under the kitchen tile. It would cover this monthâs needs, bought at the cost of your pride. The ring was harder. It pulsed with danger, too obvious to hide and too strong to throw away.
You took off your ripped uniform, your movements were stiff and raw. You stepped into the shower, scrubbing your skin until it burned, desperate to wash away the smell of expensive sandalwood, adrenaline, and violence. But the smell of him, the strong, dominant scent of his control, was on your skin. You could not see it, but you could feel it everywhere.
The exhaustion of the past week hit you all at once, the stress from your father, the need for money, and the chaos in the SUV. You leaned against the tiled wall, letting the hot water run over you, clutching your knees. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself the thought that someone else had carried the burden for thirty minutes. And that relief, however sudden, had been complete.
Knock. Knock. KNOCK.
The sound was loud and sharp, breaking the quiet in the apartment. You wrapped a towel around yourself and froze. Shon was still in the shower.
"Open up," a slurred voice called through the thin door. "I know youâre in there. Whereâs your father?"
It was Park, the buildingâs rough, unofficial superintendent. He had been bothering you more and more since your father got into debt. He always demanded rent, and sometimes other things too.
You pulled on a thin cotton robe and tied it tight. "Go away, Park. Rent is due Friday. Iâll pay then."
"Oh, Iâm not here about Friday," he said, laughing cruelly. "I saw your dad earlier. Heard someone roughed him up. Someone had to take care of the family, huh? I heard you were out late working."
Your heart pounded. You had to protect Shon. Hesitantly, you cracked the door just a little, enough to speak without fully opening it.
"What do you want, Park?" you asked, keeping your voice steady.
He peeked inside, a greedy grin spreading across his face. "Now, thatâs better. I like talking to you face to face."
Before you could react, he shoved the door hard. The thin wood splintered and bent. He pushed inside, filling the hallway with his rough presence, the apartment suddenly too small for him.
You stumbled back, clutching the knife, your robe slipping slightly from the movement. Panic surged through you. Shon was still in the shower, unaware and vulnerable.
Parkâs eyes caught the silver ring on your hand, the one Jungkook had given you. His grin faltered, a flash of surprise and greed in his gaze.
âHey. Whereâd you get that ring?â You instinctively glanced down at your hand. You hadnât even realized you had put it on. The heavy silver band, the âmarkerâ Jungkook had given you, rested on your index finger. It looked monumental on your delicate hand, completely out of place against the worn fabric of your robe.
"Something's different about you tonight." Park growled, his voice tinged with greed and suspicion. "You smell like expensive trouble.â
You reached for the kitchen knife, your hand shaking violently. Before you could move, the apartment door groaned and gave way. It wasnât kicked, it was shoved off its hinges with impossible force. The frame splintered and collapsed. A huge shadow filled the doorway, blocking the dim hallway light.
Jungkook. He was back in his black trousers, but his shirt was gone. His bare chest glistened with sweat, muscles tight and bruised from the fight. He looked terrifying, like a living weapon.
Park stumbled back, his face changing from greedy to terrified as he met Jungkookâs cold, deadly gaze.
"Who the hell are you?" Park stammered, trying to get his footing on the grimy floor. Jungkook didnât answer. He moved like a predator. One hand lifted Park off the ground, slammed him against the wall, and dropped him in a crumpled heap. The wet thump and Parkâs choked gasp were followed by silence. Jungkook didnât even look at him.
He stepped over Park and fixed his gaze on you. You froze by the broken doorframe, wrapped in a thin towel. You hadnât asked for help, but he was here anyway, fulfilling his claim.
"You shouldn't have answered when he first came to the door," Jungkook said quietly, his voice dangerous. He moved closer, radiating heat and power. "You are not to talk to anyone who crosses the entrance of my space."
"Yourâthis isnât your space!" you whispered, horrified, glancing toward the bathroom where Shon was just turning off the shower.
"It is now," he said, gripping your chin and tilting your face up. His thumb brushed the silver ring, confirming the marker. "And you are mine. Did you really think I would leave you alone?â
He pulled you to your room and locked the door. He pushed you down on the narrow bed, his weight an inescapable pressure trapping you. With a low growl, he tore away the flimsy robe, leaving you utterly exposed beneath his hungry gaze.
"Mine," he snarled, his hands seizing your wrists and pinning them above your head. His dark eyes raked over your nude form, taking in every curve and hollow with a possessive intensity that made you tremble.
He dipped his head, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. He bit down, marking you, branding you as his. You cried out at the sharp sting, your body arching instinctively. He soothed the hurt with his tongue before moving lower, tracing the line of your collarbone with hot, open-mouthed kisses.
His free hand skimmed down your side, calloused fingers leaving trails of fire on your skin. He cupped your breast roughly, thumbing your nipple until it peaked into a tight bud. The sensation arrowed straight to your core, making you gasp.
Jungkook chuckled darkly against your skin, the sound rumbling through your body. "So responsive," he purred. "I'm going to enjoy playing with you."
He bent his head further, taking your nipple into his mouth. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your throbbing clit. His hand continued its journey south, dipping into your navel before cupping your mound.
"Already so wet for me," he murmured, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. "Fucking soaked."
He circled your clit with a feather-light touch, making you buck against his hand. "Don't be shy now," he taunted. "I want to hear every sound you make."
His fingers dipped lower, pushing into your heat. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your walls clenching around him. He pumped in and out, his thumb still rubbing tight circles on your clit.
"Jungkook!" you keened, writhing beneath him. He withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the loss. But then he was shoving his trousers down, freeing his thick, hard cock. He notched himself at your entrance, the broad head pushing insistently.
"Beg for it," he demanded, his voice rough with lust. "Beg me to fuck you."
"Please," you gasped, too far gone to care about pride. "Please Jungkook, fuck me. I need you inside me."
With a fierce grin, he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. You screamed at the sudden fullness, your nails digging into his shoulders.
He didn't give you time to adjust, immediately setting a punishing pace. He pounded into you, his hips slamming against yours, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.
"Yes, yes, fuck!" you chanted mindlessly, meeting every brutal thrust. Your body was no longer your own, just a vessel for his pleasure.
Jungkook leaned down, capturing your lips in a filthy kiss. His tongue plundered your mouth, fucking in and out in time with his cock. You could taste yourself on him, salty and sweet.
His hand snaked between your bodies, finding your clit. He rubbed hard circles on the sensitive nub, sending you hurtling towards the edge. "Come for me," he commanded against your lips. "Now."
Your body obeyed, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name, your walls clamping down on his cock like a vice. He followed moments later, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he came with a guttural roar.
He collapsed on top of you, both of you gasping for breath. His cock was still buried inside you, pulsing with the aftershocks. You lay there, trembling and boneless, completely claimed.
"That's one way to make sure you remember who you belong to," Jungkook said with a satisfied smirk, rolling off you. He pulled you into his arms, tucking your spent body against his side.
After a long minute, he slowly shifted, leaning onto his elbows, his gaze still fiercely possessive. He dipped his head, licking the moisture from the curve of your jaw, a gesture utterly animalistic.
He reached down, his fingers tracing the outline of the silver ring now resting on your finger. "Keep it on," he ordered, his eyes promising violence if you disobeyed.
The silence in the room was broken by a small, hesitant sound from the hallway. Shon, done with his shower, stood holding a damp towel. His eyes were wide and horrified as he stared at the broken doorframe and Park lying crumpled in the hall.
Jungkook did not flinch. He threw the thin blanket over your body and stood up, powerful and completely unashamed. He moved to the door.
He looked down at Park, then back at Shon, who was trembling.
"Go back to your room, kid," Jungkook said flatly, with no emotion. "Your sister had a problem with the landlord. I fixed it."
He picked up his shirt from the floor and buttoned it over his chest, covering the bruise from the fight. He did not look at you again, only at Shon.
"Donât worry about the mess. My people will take care of it."
Then, as quietly and forcefully as he had come, Jungkook stepped over the broken doorframe and disappeared into the night. You were left trembling on the bed. His scent clung to you. The silver ring felt heavy and cold on your finger. You realized with a shiver that you were completely his.
You were safe and you were broken.
The quiet in the room pressed down on you, heavier than the thin blanket. Your breathing was loud in your ears. Your body ached, and your mind was a storm of fear, shock, and a strange, uneasy relief.
Jungkookâs words still echoed in your head. The silver ring felt like a brand. Its coolness against your skin contrasted with the heat that lingered from his touch and his anger. You traced the smooth surface, a solid reminder in the chaos.
Shonâs quiet retreat to his room hurt more than anything. You were supposed to protect him, to keep him safe. Instead, he had seen the violence spill into your world. His fear reflected your own helplessness and the reality that everything had changed.
The broken doorframe loomed in front of you, a sharp reminder of the chaos that had just happened. Park, the landlord, was no longer a problem. He lay unconscious in the hall. Jungkook, the one who had done this, had simply walked away, leaving you to deal with the mess. His comment about sending people to clean it up felt almost like a cruel joke, showing how much control he had and how easily he could erase problems with his power.
You stayed on the bed, too afraid to move, holding the thin blanket tightly to your chest. His scent, a strong mix of mint and something deeply masculine, lingered in the air, on your skin, and in the cheap mattress. It was overwhelming, a constant reminder that he had claimed you. The memory of him taking control played in your mind, not exciting, but frightening, a proof of your vulnerability.
You were safe. Park was no longer a threat. But the price for that safety was high. Your freedom had been taken away, leaving you feeling hollow and exposed. The dangers outside seemed far less important compared to the reality of being under Jungkookâs control. The ring on your finger was heavy with meaning, a permanent mark that reminded you of what had happened. The room no longer felt safe; it felt like a cage.
The quiet lasted only long enough for your shock to settle into a cold, hard knot in your stomach. Just as the adrenaline started to fade, the heavy sound of the main apartment door closing echoed through the walls.
Jungkook was back.
He did not announce himself. He just stood in the open doorway of your bedroom. The broken wood framed his tall, imposing figure. The damage felt deliberate, not just a result of anger, but a statement. He took off his jacket first, tossing the expensive wool onto the floor near the broken frame, a clear display of ownership.
You could not move. The blanket offered no real protection against him.
"You're shaking," he said, his voice low and flat. He took two steps closer, stopping at the foot of the bed. His scent of mint and something sharp surrounded you, pressing down like a heavy weight.
"Shon..." you whispered, your voice rough and small.
"He is asleep," Jungkook said, cutting off your worry with a small wave of his hand. "I checked. He will not wake up until morning. He needs to rest."
He did not mean Shonâs body. He meant his mind and the cold truth in his voice made your stomach twist. Jungkook had controlled when your brother slept. He had controlled what he saw, he had controlled what he remembered.
Jungkook stepped closer, his shadow covering you where you sat on the bed. His eyes dropped to your left hand, still holding the blanket too tightly. He reached out and slowly pulled your fingers apart until the ring was visible.
"This is not a simple piece of silver," he said quietly. His thumb moved over the band, his touch almost gentle, but his meaning sharp. "This is the thing that keeps you safe. But safety has rules and you must follow them."
You finally managed to speak, your voice shaky but firm. "I am not yours. I asked for help, not this."
His hand closed around your upper arm, steady and heavy, stopping your movement at once. His expression did not change. It was calm, clear, and frightening in its surety.
"You asked for protection you could not give yourself," he said. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You lived because I decided you would. So I took what was owed, the moment I had to."
He pulled the blanket away, letting it fall at the end of the bed. The thin clothes you wore felt too light in the cold air between you.
"The fight was to remove the threat," Jungkook said as he sat on the edge of the mattress. His voice was low and steady, a stark contrast to the wildness in his eyes. "Now I need to make sure you understand the line. You do not question who controls or what happens here."
He moved closer, his presence overwhelming. You felt trapped beneath the weight of his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. There was nothing wild in his eyes now, only a cold, calculated determination. He was in control, and he intended to make sure you knew it.
His hands moved across your body with a mixture of familiarity and detachment. You were not a woman being touched, but a possession being claimed. He explored every inch of your body, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left you trembling.
"You are mine," he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Every inch of you belongs to me. His mouth found yours, his kiss rough and demanding. You could taste the whiskey on his tongue, the heat of his desire. He bit your lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and you gasped, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.
He pushed you onto the bed, his body covering yours. You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your thigh, the heat of it searing through your skin. He was big, bigger than you had imagined, and you felt a flicker of fear at the thought of taking him inside you.
But Jungkook was not a man to be denied. He spread your legs wide, his fingers finding your wetness. You were already dripping, your body betraying your fear with its desire. He growled in satisfaction, his fingers sliding inside you with ease.
"You're so fucking wet," he murmured, his voice a low purr. "You want this as much as I do."
He moved down your body, his mouth finding your breasts. He sucked on your nipples, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, and you arched your back, a moan escaping your lips. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh, his fingers tracing patterns that left you trembling.
He moved lower, his mouth finding your pussy. He licked your folds, his tongue exploring every inch of you. You could feel the pleasure building, your body trembling on the edge of release. But Jungkook was not done with you yet.
He flipped you onto your stomach, his hands gripping your hips. He pulled you up onto your knees, your ass in the air. You could feel the cool air on your wetness, the vulnerability of your position sending a shiver down your spine.
He spanked you, his hand coming down hard on your ass. You gasped, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He spanked you again, and again, each strike leaving a stinging sensation that only served to heighten your arousal.
He positioned himself behind you, his cock pressing against your entrance. He was big, bigger than you had imagined, and you felt a flicker of fear at the thought of taking him inside you. But Jungkook was not a man to be denied. He pushed inside you, his cock filling you completely.
You gasped, the pleasure-pain of his entry sending a shockwave through your body. He moved slowly at first, his cock sliding in and out of you with a deliberate rhythm. But soon, he was fucking you hard, his cock pounding into you with a force that left you breathless.
He reached around, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed the sensitive nub, his fingers moving in time with his thrusts. You could feel the pleasure building, your body trembling on the edge of release.
He spanked you again, his hand coming down hard on your ass. You gasped, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He spanked you again, and again, each strike leaving a stinging sensation that only served to heighten your arousal.
He moved faster, his cock pounding into you with a force that left you breathless. You could feel the pleasure building, your body trembling on the edge of release. And then, with a final, powerful thrust, you came, your body convulsing around his cock.
Jungkook groaned, his cock pulsing inside you as he found his own release. He collapsed onto the bed, his body covering yours. You could feel the heat of his skin, the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
When it was over, he fixed his clothes with slow, exact movements. His eyes stayed on the broken doorway. He did not look at you, giving you a small moment to pull your shirt down and curl up on the side of the mattress.
"The deal is simple," he said as he put on his jacket. His voice sounded like he was explaining a rule instead of talking about what just happened. "You keep the ring. You accept what it means. And I make sure nothing harms you. Not Park, not the police, not anything else outside this room." He reached into his pocket and took out a black keycard, he tossed it onto the pillow beside you.
"That opens your new apartment. Top floor. Strong locks, guards at all hours, food ready for a month. Pack what Shon needs now. My people will move the rest later."
He paused and finally turned his eyes to you. His gaze swept over your tired face, taking in everything without emotion.
"Follow whatever I say. If you fight back," he said as he stood up, "you will learn that my anger is much worse than anything you saw tonight."
He did not wait for a reply. He walked to the ruined doorway and stepped into the hall. Then he was gone. The silence that came after felt heavy, not soft. It pulled at your lungs, making it hard to breathe. You lay on the old mattress, the smell of mint still on your skin, the space around you still shaped by his presence.
You looked at the silver ring on your finger. You looked at the keycard beside you. Both felt like warnings. Both felt like chains. You had traded your small, broken home for a safer one, but the cost of that safety had taken something deep from you. The silence in the room was not calm. It pressed on you, filled with the memory of his voice and the cold truth of what he now controlled.
It ain't my fault you came here lookin' like that. You just made me trip, fall, and land on your lap. Certain bad boy smooth, body hotter than the sun. I don't mean to be rude, but I'd look so damn good on ya.
pairing: brother's bestfriend!jungkook x reader
warnings: unprotected sex, enemies to lovers? y/n holds a grudge against jungkook, brief mention of death, fluff, confession!!
word count: 3.8k+
âWhere are you going?â You glanced at your brother, who was busy checking himself in the mirror.
âOut.â You stuffed your mouth with popcorn and kept watching your favorite series. Moments later, a car honked outside your house. You didnât even need to look out the window to know who it was.
'Great.' Your brother was once again going out with his best friend, none other than Jeon Jungkook.
At first, you didnât mind him. Of course, it was normal for your brother to have friends, to spend time with them. But the moment Jungkook entered his life, everything began to change.
Your brother stopped hanging out with you. He stopped playing games with you. He was almost never home anymore. And it was all because of Jungkook. Just hearing that name made your stomach twist.
You used to be your brotherâs world. After your parents died in a car accident when you were five, he stepped up for you. Your grandparents raised both of you, but your brother worked hard to be there in ways your parents couldnât. He was your strength. And you were his.
But ever since Jungkook came around, you felt invisible. Unwanted. Left behind. Maybe it was childish, but your brother meant everything to you. The thought of losing him to someone else, especially someone like Jungkook, who always seemed too perfect, too confident terrified you.
âIâm going to be late, donât wait for me,â your brother called out before leaving.
You didnât answer. You just listened to the door close and sighed. The TV show no longer seemed fun, so you turned it off and dragged yourself into your room.
You laid down on your bed, staring at the ceiling. You wished that when you opened your eyes, things would go back to the way they used to be.
But instead of peace, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You frowned and reached for it. A new notification lit up your screen. A message.
From Jeon Jungkook.
Jungkook: You donât hate me as much as you think you do.
Your heart skipped. Confusion mixed with irritation. Why was he texting you? Why did he even have your number? You typed back before you could stop yourself.
You: Why do you have my number?? Delete it!
Almost instantly, he replied.
Jungkook: Canât. I like having it.
You sat up in bed, staring at the screen, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and something you couldnât explain.
You stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. What kind of reply was that? He wasnât even trying to hide the smugness.
You: Stop bothering me. Youâre annoying.
You hit send and tossed your phone on the bed, rolling to your side with a groan. Of course Jungkook had to find a way to irritate you even when your brother wasnât around.
But before you could close your eyes, your phone buzzed again.
Jungkook: Funny. Your brother says the same thing, but he still hangs out with me every day.
You clenched your jaw, your chest burning with anger. He knew exactly how to push your buttons.
You: Good. Then stay with him and leave me alone.
You wanted that to be the end of it. You wanted to sleep. But a part of you stayed restless, waiting for another reply. When it didnât come, you let out a shaky breath and pulled the blanket over your head.
The next day, you woke up late. The house was quiet, no surprise there. Your brother hadnât come home yet. Probably crashed at Jungkookâs place again.
You dragged yourself to the kitchen and started making coffee, only to hear the front door open.
Your brother walked in, looking tired but satisfied, as if heâd had the best night of his life. Behind him, Jungkook followed.
Your stomach tightened. Why did he always have to be here?
âMorning,â your brother greeted, dropping his bag on the couch.
Jungkookâs eyes found yours immediately. He leaned casually against the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips. âDid you sleep well?â
The way he asked made your face heat. It wasnât the question, it was the look. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.
âDonât talk to me,â you muttered, pouring your coffee.
Your brother chuckled, oblivious to the tension. âYou two should try getting along. Makes life easier.â
You wanted to scream. How could he not see it? Jungkook wasnât just annoying. He was stealing your brother away, and now he was acting like he had a right to tease you on top of it.
But then Jungkookâs voice dropped, softer this time. âMaybe we already are, you just donât realize it yet.â
Your breath caught. You hated him. You hated him. So why did it feel like your heart was beating too fast?
You avoided looking at him, clutching your mug like it was the only thing holding you together.
âDonât start with me this early,â you muttered.
âStart what?â Jungkook asked, displaying innocence. But his smirk gave him away. He was enjoying this, your annoyance, your reactions.
Your brother stretched and yawned. âIâm taking a shower. Donât fight while Iâm gone.â
And just like that, you were alone with Jungkook in the kitchen. The air felt heavy. You sipped your coffee, refusing to acknowledge him.
He leaned against the counter across from you, crossing his arms. âYou know,â he said casually, âyou glare at me like Iâm your worst enemy. But you donât even know me.â
You finally looked at him, anger flashing in your eyes. âI know enough. You take my brother away, you make him forget about me, and you act like you own the place. Thatâs enough for me.â
For the first time, his smirk faded. He tilted his head, studying you. âSo thatâs what this is aboutâ he murmured. âYouâre scared Iâm replacing you.â
Your throat tightened. His words hit a little too close, but you refused to let him see that. âDonât flatter yourself. Youâre not that important.â
He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. âYou say that, but youâre talking about me more than you realize.â
You set your mug down a little too hard. âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd yet,â he stepped closer, closing the space between you, âyou canât seem to ignore me.â
Your heartbeat stuttered. He was too close. You could smell his cologne, faint and warm, the kind that clung without being overwhelming. You hated that you noticed.
You opened your mouth to snap back, but your brotherâs voice echoed down the hall. âJungkook! Letâs go!â
Jungkook smirked again, backing away slowly. âSee you around, princess.â
You froze. No one had called you that in years. The front door shut behind them, leaving you in the kitchen with your heart racing and your thoughts spiraling.
You hated him.
You hated how smug he was.
You hated how he made you feel seen when you were sure no one else did.
And most of all, you hated that a small, dangerous part of you wanted to see him again.
The next few days were no different. Your brother was hardly home, and whenever he was, Jungkook wasnât far behind.
At first, you tried to avoid him, locking yourself in your room, slipping out when he wasnât around. But it didnât matter. Somehow, Jungkook kept showing up.
At school, you spotted him leaning against his motorcycle near the gates, waiting for your brother. His eyes found yours immediately. He grinned like heâd been expecting you all along.
At the grocery store, you caught him pushing the cart for your brother, tossing in snacks you knew would be gone before you could even have one.
And one night, when your grandparents invited your brother and his âfriendâ for dinner, you nearly choked when Jungkook sat right across from you, acting like he belonged there.
âPass the rice, princess,â he said smoothly, and you swore your fork almost slipped out of your hand.
Your brother laughed, not even noticing the way you glared at Jungkook. âShe hates when people call her that.â
âOh, I noticed,â Jungkook said with a smirk. âThatâs why I do it.â
Your grandparents chuckled softly, clearly charmed by him, and you wanted to scream.
Why did everyone fall for him so easily?
After dinner, you slipped outside to get some air. The night was quiet, the sky sprinkled with stars. You hugged your arms, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm in your chest.
But then you heard the door open behind you.
âEscaping already?â Jungkookâs voice was low, almost teasing, but softer than usual.
You didnât turn. âWhy are you everywhere I go? Donât you have anything better to do?â
He stepped closer, his presence warm against the cool night air. âMaybe not. Maybe I just like watching you get worked up.â
You whipped around, anger flashing. âDo you enjoy ruining everything? First, my brother, and nowââ You stopped yourself, biting your lip.
âNow what?â he pressed gently, eyes searching yours.
Your throat felt tight. You wanted to say 'me now.' But you couldnât.
Instead, you pushed past him, your voice sharp. âStay out of my life, Jungkook.â
But the way his gaze lingered on you as you stormed off made it clear, he had no intention of doing that.
You tried. You really tried to stay away from him. But Jungkook wasnât the type to make things easy.
Two days later, your brother had basketball practice at school. You thought it was the perfect chance to hang out with your friends without dealing with him. But when you stepped into the gym, bag of chips in hand, you nearly dropped it.
There he was.
On the court.
Sweat running down his temples, jersey clinging to him as he moved effortlessly with the ball.
The crowd cheered every time he scored, and of course, your brother was right there, laughing with him, throwing high-fives like they owned the place.
You clenched your jaw and sat as far away as possible. But it didnât matter. Jungkookâs eyes still found you.
Every. Single. Time.
And when he smirked in the middle of a play, like he was showing off just for you, your stomach twisted in ways you refused to admit.
After practice, you slipped outside, hoping to get home before they noticed you. But luck wasnât on your side.
âLeaving without saying hi?â
You froze. Jungkook jogged up to you, towel around his neck, hair damp. His chest rose and fell from exertion, but his grin was as steady as ever.
âI didnât come here for you,â you said quickly, adjusting your bag strap.
âCouldâve fooled me. You didnât cheer, didnât clap. Just sat there staring.â His voice dropped, teasing but firm. âDonât think I didnât notice.â
Your cheeks heated. âYouâre delusional.â
He stepped closer, tilting his head slightly as if to read your face better. âAm I? Or are you just scared I might be right?â
Your pulse quickened. He was too close again, his scent of sweat and soap clinging to the air between you.
Before you could push him away, your brotherâs voice echoed from the gym doors. âHey! You coming or what?â
You immediately stepped back, breaking eye contact. Jungkook just chuckled, throwing the towel over his shoulder. âGuess thatâs my cue.â
But as he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder and gave you a look, a knowing one.
One that said he was winning a game you didnât even want to play.
And the worst part? You werenât sure you could keep pretending you hated every second of it.
Days passed, and no matter how much you told yourself you hated him, Jungkook was everywhere.
One evening, you were carrying groceries back from the store. The bags were heavy, cutting into your hands, but you refused to ask for help. You were halfway home when a shadow fell across you.
âNeed a hand, princess?â
You didnât have to look to know who it was.
âIâm fine,â you muttered, shifting the bags higher in your arms.
âYou donât look fine.â Without waiting for your answer, Jungkook took two bags from you like they weighed nothing.
âHeyââ you snapped, but your protest died when he glanced at you with a small smile. Not his usual cocky grin. Something softer. Almost gentle.
âRelax. Iâm just helping,â he said quietly.
You didnât reply. The two of you walked in silence, the sound of his footsteps matching yours. It was strange, without your brother around, the tension between you felt different. Not lighter, but warmer somehow.
When you reached your house, Jungkook set the bags down on the counter. You expected him to leave, but instead he leaned against the counter, watching you put things away.
âYou knowâŠâ he said after a moment, âyouâre not invisible to him.â
You froze, a box of cereal in your hand. âWhat?â
âYour brother. You think he doesnât care anymore. But I see the way he talks about you when youâre not around. Youâre still his whole world.â
You turned, caught off guard by his tone. There was no teasing, no smugness. Just honesty.
âWhy are you telling me this?â you asked softly.
His gaze lingered on you, steady and unreadable. âBecause I donât like seeing you upset.â
For a second, your chest tightened. You almost believed him. Almost.
But the moment broke when he smirked again, pushing off the counter. âDonât get used to me being nice, though. Iâve got a reputation to keep.â
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your heart was racing. âBack to being annoying. Figures.â
As he walked toward the door, he glanced back at you, his voice low and teasing. âAdmit it. Youâd miss me if I stopped.â
You didnât answer. You couldnât. Because for the first time you werenât sure if he was wrong.
It happened a few nights later.
Your brother had fallen asleep on the couch after a late shift, the TV still playing in the background. You grabbed a blanket to cover him, then decided to step outside for some air.
The night was quiet, the sky dark except for the faint glow of the streetlights. You sat on the porch steps, hugging your knees to your chest.
You thought you were alone until the creak of the door made you turn.
Of course. Jungkook.
He stepped out casually, hands in his pockets. âCouldnât sleep?â
âWhy are you here?â you asked, annoyed, though your voice came out softer than you intended.
He smirked faintly. âYour brother knocked out. Figured someone should keep an eye on you.â
You scoffed. âI donât need a babysitter.â
âDidnât say you did.â He sat down beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed. His presence felt heavy, grounding.
For a while, neither of you spoke. You just listened to the crickets, the distant hum of the city. Then, out of nowhere, Jungkook asked, âDo you ever feel like people leave too easily?â
You blinked, startled by the question. âWhat do you mean?â
He stared ahead, his jaw tight. âJust people. Friends. Family. Like no matter how much you want them to stay, they donât.â
The honesty in his voice unsettled you. This wasnât the Jungkook you were used to, the smug, teasing one who lived to annoy you.
You hesitated, then said quietly, âYeah. I know what that feels like.â
When you turned to look at him, you found him already watching you. His eyes held something different this time, something raw.
Your breath caught. The space between you felt charged, magnetic, like the world had gone quiet around you.
And then he leaned in. Just slightly. Testing the waters. Your heart pounded, your body frozen between pulling away and giving in.
But before anything could happen, your brother stirred inside, coughing in his sleep. The sound snapped you back, and you jumped to your feet.
âIâI should go to bed,â you stammered, avoiding his eyes.
Jungkook leaned back, smirk tugging at his lips again, though softer this time. âSweet dreams, princess.â
You hurried inside, shutting the door behind you. But all night, lying in bed, you couldnât stop thinking about how close he had been. And worse, how much you wished your brother hadnât interrupted.
The next night, Jungkook was at your house again, drinking with your brother. You peeked at them and noticed that Jungkookâs glass was still untouched, it seemed like he was only listening to your brotherâs endless blabbering.
A few minutes later, your brother finally dozed off. Jungkook, having noticed your shadow, stood up and began walking toward you in the kitchen.
The night was quiet, but Jungkook wasnât. He paced the small space in front of you, fingers tugging at his hair like he was holding something back. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for him to say whatever was eating him alive.
âWhat now?â you finally asked, voice sharper than you meant.
He stopped moving. His chest rose and fell heavily as if he had been running. Then, slowly, he lifted his eyes to yours, dark, torn, desperate.
âI canât keep pretending I donât care about you.â his voice cracked, and he let out a shaky laugh. Jungkook stepped closer, each word falling faster now, like he had lost the ability to hold them back.
âI thought I could control it. I told myself I was just drawn to you because you wereââ he bit his lip, eyes narrowing, ââuntouchable. But itâs not that. Itâs not just attraction. Itâs the way you look at me like Iâm more than what people think I am. The way you see through all the shit I hide. You donât even know what youâre doing to me.â
His hand pressed against the wall beside your head, trapping you but not suffocating you. His forehead hovered inches from yours, his voice dropping to a whisper.
âI canât stop wanting you. Not just your body. You. Everything. And itâs killing me.â Your breath caught. You had dreamed of this, imagined it in fleeting, guilty thoughts but hearing him bare himself like this stripped away your defenses.
âJungkook,â you whispered, your chest tightening.
âSay something,â he begged, his voice trembling now. âBecause if you donât feel the same, Iâll stop. Iâll walk away tonight and never cross this line again. But if you doââ his eyes flickered to your lips, raw honesty spilling from him, ââthen I need you to tell me before I lose my damn mind.â
The silence between you was electric, heavy with unspoken truths. And the moment you whispered his name again, softer this time, Jungkookâs restraint snapped.
His hands shot out to claim you. They wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he devoured your lips in a kiss that left you breathless. His tongue slid against yours, sending shivers down your spine. You felt his hardness pressing against you, and you knew you couldn't resist him.
You reached for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle as Jungkook's mouth continued. His hands roamed over your body, teasing your nipples through your shirt until you moaned with pleasure.
He lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands slipping between your thighs to cup your pussy through your pajamas
"Take them off," his voice muffled against your lips. Your hands shaking as Jungkook's fingers danced across your skin. You kicked off your slippers, and he yanked down your pants, revealing your lace underwear.
He cupped your pussy again, his fingers slipping under the fabric to tease your wetness.
"Oh, fuck," You whispered, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Jungkook's fingers moved in time with your pulse, coaxing you higher and higher until you were trembling with anticipation.
And then, in a flash of movement, he was between your legs, his face buried in your pussy. His tongue lapped at your clit, sending you soaring into a world of pure pleasure. You felt your body tense, your legs wrapping around his head as he sucked you deeper.
"Yes, yes, yes," you moaned quietly, your hands raking through his hair as he devoured you.
You were lost in the swirl of his tongue, your pleasure building to a fever pitch. Jungkook's tongue darted in and out of your pussy, gathering your juices and sucking them back in with a rhythmic motion that left you gasping.
His fingers slipped inside you, stroking your walls with a gentle firmness that pushed you higher and higher. As you reached the edge of orgasm, Jungkook suddenly lifted his head, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity.
"I need to feel you," he growled, his voice husky with desire. He yanked off his pants, his cock springing free. Oh boy, his cock was mad mad. He positioned himself at your entrance, his fingers teasing your clit one last time before he thrust inside you with a smooth, practiced motion.
You felt him stretch you, his cock filling you to the brim as he sank deeper and deeper into your pussy. You were so wet, so ready, that he slid in easily, his movements slick and effortless.
He began to move, his hips pumping in a slow, sensual rhythm that left you breathless. As he fucked you, Jungkook's hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples until they stood hard and aching.
You felt your pleasure building again, your body responding to his touch with a helpless, abandoned joy. You were his, completely and utterly, and you knew that youâd never be the same again.
"More," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own panting. Jungkook grinned, his eyes flashing with triumph. He leaned in, his mouth claiming yours in a fierce, possessive kiss as he pumped his cock deeper and deeper into your pussy.
You felt your orgasm building, your body coiling tighter and tighter. And then, in a flash, you came, your pussy squeezing around Jungkook's cock in a series of intense, rolling waves.
He groaned, his body jerking in time with yours as he emptied himself inside you, his cock pulsing with a warm, sticky fluid that felt like liquid gold.
Jungkook's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled against my skin. "I couldn't help myself."
You smiled, feeling a sense of ownership wash over you.
"You don't have to apologize," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted it. I wanted you." he pulled back, his eyes searching yours
âYou do?â he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of hope and doubt. You nodded, feeling a sense of certainty wash over you. "Yes," you said, your voice firm. "I do."
Jungkook's face lit up with a radiant smile, and he leaned in to kiss you again. This time, it was a gentle, tender kiss, one that spoke of hope and possibility and a future filled with promise.
âWhat the fuck?!â You and Jungkook turned toward the voice. There stood your brother, looking so pale you thought he might faint.
warnings: smut (car sex), stalking, jungkook is a creep
word count: 2.7k+
âThis is it, I hate molecular biology,â Nari whispered in defeat. You tried not to laugh too loudly since the two of you were still inside the library.
Honestly, she was right. As much as you enjoyed majoring in biology, anaphy and molecular biology really made you question if you truly loved the course you chose.
Your eyes moved to the big window and you smiled when you saw the rain falling. You loved rainy days. The world felt calm, the sound was comforting, and the smell of wet earth always made you feel at peace.
You glanced at your watch. 7 p.m. You sighed, realizing you had lost track of time again.
âNari, I need to go now. I still have a part-time job,â you said while gathering your things.
Nari nodded and smiled. âGood luck. See you tomorrow.â
You waved goodbye and walked out of the library. The moment you stepped outside, you froze. The rain was heavy and the campus grounds looked darker than usual. You quickly checked your bag, but your umbrella was not there. You had left it at home.
You pressed your lips together, thinking of whether you should run through the rain.
Suddenly, the rain above your head stopped. An umbrella was held over you. Startled, you turned your head.
âCareful, you might catch a cold,â a deep voice said beside you.
It was Jeon Jungkook, the popular basketball player of your university. His black hoodie was pulled up, water dripping from the edges, but his eyes were on you.
He gave you a small smile. It looked gentle, but there was something in his gaze that made your chest tighten in a way you could not explain.
You hesitated for a moment but gave him a small smile. âThanks. I actually forgot mine.â
Jungkook tilted the umbrella slightly so it covered you more than him. âI noticed,â he said softly.
You blinked at him. âYou noticed?â
He looked straight ahead, leading you down the path. âYou donât usually bring one. Iâve seen you get caught in the rain before.â
That made you pause for a second. You did not remember him ever being around during those times. You brushed it off, thinking maybe it was just a coincidence.
The two of you walked together in silence, the sound of raindrops tapping lightly on the umbrella. You felt your heart beat a little faster, not just because Jungkook was beside you, but also because you could feel his eyes glance at you from time to time.
When you finally reached the street near your part-time job, you stopped and gave him a polite smile. âThank you again, Jungkook. I can go on from here.â
His gaze lingered on you, unreadable. Then he slowly nodded. âAlright. Be careful.â
You bowed your head slightly and hurried into the shop. But as the door closed behind you, you could not shake the feeling that his eyes were still on you.
What you did not know was that Jungkook did not leave right away. He stayed across the street, hidden under his umbrella, watching through the glass window as you began your shift.
The weekend came faster than you expected, and the whole university was buzzing with excitement. Tonight was the championship game. The gymnasium was packed, students waving banners and chanting loudly for the basketball team.
You werenât usually the type to attend these kinds of events, but Nari had dragged you along. âCome on, itâs the finals. Besides, Jungkookâs playing. You canât miss this,â she grinned, tugging you toward the bleachers.
You rolled your eyes but followed. The energy of the crowd was contagious, and soon you found yourself clapping along as the game began.
Jungkook was on fire. Fast, sharp, focused. Every move he made drew cheers, every shot landed perfectly. You had to admit, it was hard not to be impressed.
But what unsettled you was the feeling that sometimes, even while he was playing, his eyes found yours in the crowd. It was only for a second, but enough to make your stomach flip.
When the game ended with their victory, the crowd went wild. Students rushed down to congratulate the players. You and Nari stayed in your seats, but as people were moving around, you noticed something odd.
On your seat, right where your bag had been, was a small gift bag.
You frowned, picking it up. Inside was a box of your favorite chocolate, the brand you always bought after a long study night. A folded note rested on top.
You look even prettier when you smile. Congratulations for surviving another week.
Your heart skipped. You glanced around, but everyone seemed too busy celebrating to notice you. Nari leaned closer. âOoooh, secret admirer?â she teased.
You forced a laugh, but your hands tightened around the note. Somehow, you didnât feel flattered. You felt watched.
Later that night, when you were walking home after celebrating with your classmates, the campus felt strangely quiet. You wrapped your arms around yourself, replaying the game, the gift, the words.
What you didnât see was the figure leaning casually against his car in the parking lot. His dark hoodie covered most of his face, but his eyes followed you as you walked past.
Jeon Jungkook smiled to himself, tapping his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. He knew exactly where you lived. And soon, you would find yourself in his car, but not in the way you ever expected.
The following week went on as usual. Classes, work, study sessions with Nari. But the gifts didnât stop.
On Monday, you found a neatly wrapped pen on your desk in the lecture hall. The same brand you always used. No note this time, just placed there as if someone knew exactly where you would sit.
On Wednesday, there was a small keychain in your locker. A tiny silver raindrop. You held it in your palm for a long time, unsure whether to be touched or uneasy.
âSecret admirerâs consistent,â Nari teased again, wiggling her brows. âI swear, if it turns out to be some nerd in class, Iâll laugh.â
You laughed too, though it didnât quite reach your eyes. Deep down, you couldnât shake the strange weight of being watched.
Thursday came, and with it another basketball game. The crowd was electric again, banners waving and chants echoing in the gym. You tried to focus on cheering along with Nari, but every time Jungkook scored, every time he lifted his gaze toward the bleachers, you felt his eyes on you. It was as if he was playing for you alone.
After the game, you left the gym a little earlier than the others. The air outside was cool, the campus lights dim against the night. You hugged your bag tighter, walking toward the gate.
A black car rolled up slowly beside you. The window slid down, and there he was.
âNeed a ride?â Jungkookâs voice was casual, but his eyes never left yours. You hesitated, shifting on your feet. âItâs okay, I can walk.â
âItâs late,â he said simply. His hand drummed lightly against the steering wheel, his gaze steady. âCome on. Just this once.â
The street was nearly empty, the thought of walking all the way home alone weighing on you. Against your better judgment, you opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.
The smell of his car was clean, faintly like leather and something deeper you couldnât name. He glanced at you once before pulling out of the lot, the hum of the engine filling the silence.
âYou always walk home after work?â he asked, voice low, almost casual.
âYeah,â you answered quietly, looking out the window. âItâs not that far.â
His lips curved slightly, though his eyes stayed on the road. âI know.â
Your head turned. âYou know?â
Jungkook chuckled softly, as if realizing what he said. âI mean, Iâve seen you around. Youâre always walking late.â
You nodded, trying to ignore the strange flutter in your chest. The ride was quiet after that, but the silence wasnât uncomfortable. If anything, it was thick, charged with something you couldnât quite name.
His presence filled the small space, his hand steady on the wheel, his gaze occasionally flicking your way. When he stopped in front of your apartment, you reached for the door handle. âThanks for the ride,â you said.
But his hand shot out gently, catching your wrist before you could leave. You froze, your breath caught in your throat.
Jungkook leaned a little closer, his voice low, his eyes locked on yours.
âYou donât have to thank me. Iâll always make sure you get home safe.â Your heart pounded, the air inside the car suddenly heavier.
The next day on campus, it was impossible not to notice Jungkook.
You were on your way to class, hugging your books against your chest, when the sound of loud cheers reached your ears. You looked over toward the basketball court.
Jungkook was there, surrounded by teammates and students. He wasnât even in uniform, just a plain white shirt and shorts, but every time he moved, every time the ball left his hands and swished perfectly through the net, the crowd erupted.
Girls at the sidelines were screaming his name, waving banners and phones, trying to get his attention. Some guys were clapping and chanting along, hyping him up.
He laughed when one of his teammates threw an arm over his shoulder, sweat dripping from his hair, but his smile was easy, charming. Natural.
You found yourself frozen for a moment, watching.
It was hard not to. Jungkook had that kind of presence that pulled people in without even trying. He wasnât just popular because he was good at basketball though that was a huge part of it. He was confident. Effortless.
The kind of person who seemed like he belonged in the spotlight.
And maybe, just maybe, you had always admired him from afar.
âYah, stop staring,â Nari nudged you, smirking when she caught your expression. âDo you have a crush on Jungkook?â
You quickly looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks. âNo, I donât.â
âUh-huh,â she teased. âSure. You were practically drooling.â
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnât deny it. You did find him attractive. Of course you did. Who wouldnât? But you reminded yourself that guys like Jungkook didnât even notice girls like you. He was out of reach, someone who lived in a world far brighter than yours.
Still, when you walked into the lecture hall later that day and found a familiar chocolate bar sitting on your desk again, your heart skipped.
For a brief, foolish second, you wondered.
What if?
The week passed, and the gifts didnât stop. A coffee cup on your desk the exact way you liked it, a sticky note on your locker with the words âdonât skip mealsâ written in neat handwriting. Nobody ever caught who left them, and it made your skin crawl and warm at the same time.
You turned, already guessing who it would be. The black car slowed to a stop, the window rolling down.
âGet in,â Jungkook said, one hand on the wheel, the other resting against the open window. His eyes looked calm, but they held that same steady weight that always made your chest tighten.
You hesitated, biting your lip. âJungkook, you donât have toââ
âItâs late,â he cut in smoothly. âAnd it looks like itâs about to rain. Again.â His lips quivered in the smallest smile. âCome on.â
You looked up at the clouds. Dark and heavy. He was right. You opened the door and slipped inside.
The silence between you felt different this time. Not awkward, but heavier, thicker, charged.
âYou seem tired,â Jungkook said softly, eyes still on the road.
âItâs been a long day,â you admitted, staring out the window. âSometimes I wonder if all this is worth it.â
âYouâre doing fine,â he replied, voice firm, almost protective. âYouâre stronger than you think.â
You turned your head slightly, surprised at how certain he sounded. He wasnât guessing. It was as if he knew.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sound of the engine and the faint patter of rain on the roof filled the silence. Then you felt it, his hand brushing against yours on the center console.
You froze, your breath catching. Slowly, his fingers shifted, resting lightly over your hand. Not forcing, just there, warm and steady. Your heart raced, but you didnât pull away.
Jungkookâs eyes flicked to you, his voice low. âYou donât know how long Iâve wanted this.â
The world outside blurred in the rain, the street empty, the only sound of your own breathing and the rain against the glass.
He leaned closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. âLet me show you.â
As he spoke, his hand slid up your thigh, fingers teasing the sensitive skin just below the hem of your skirt. The heat of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt yourself growing damp with anticipation.
Jungkook leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I want to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."
His words sent a bolt of desire straight to your core, and you let out a soft moan. His hand slid further up your thigh, pushing your skirt up as he went. You could feel the rough calluses on his fingers as they brushed against your bare skin, and it only heightened your arousal.
Without warning, he gripped your hips and pulled you onto his lap, straddling him. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his jeans, and you couldn't help but grind against him. He let out a low growl of approval, his hands gripping your ass tightly as he pulled you closer.
"I'm going to fuck you right here," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I don't care if anyone sees us."
You knew you should protest, should tell him to take you somewhere private, but the thought of being taken right there in the open was too thrilling to resist. You reached down and unzipped his jeans, freeing his hard cock. It sprang up, thick and throbbing, and you couldn't wait to feel it inside you.
He gripped your hips and lifted you up, positioning you over his cock. Then, with one swift motion, he pulled you down onto him, filling you completely. You both let out a moan of pleasure as he stretched you wide, his thick cock hitting all the right spots.
You began to ride him, grinding your hips against his as you rose up and down. He guided your movements, his hands on your hips, helping you find the perfect rhythm. You could feel every inch of him as you moved, and it was pure ecstasy.
The interior of the car spun around you as you lost yourself in the pleasure, your moans and cries filling the air. Jungkook kissed and bit at your neck, leaving marks on your skin as evidence of your passion. You could feel the tension building inside you, your orgasm approaching quickly.
"Come for me," he growled, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "I want to feel you come on my cock."
His words pushed you over the edge, and you cried out as your orgasm hit you like a wave. Your body convulsed around him, squeezing his cock tightly as you rode out the waves of pleasure. He followed soon after, burying himself deep inside you as he came, filling you with his hot seed.
You collapsed against his chest, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as the aftershocks of your orgasms slowly faded away.
"That was incredible," you said, your voice hoarse from crying out in pleasure.
"Mmmm," he agreed, nuzzling your neck. "But we're not done yet."
Who wouldâve thought that his girlfriendâs younger sister would become his favorite muse?
pairing: painter!jungkook x reader
warnings: infidelity/cheating, yandere/obsessed jungkook, death, murder (slightly gore), unprotected sex
word count: 5.9k+
âShit,â you cursed quietly when you saw that the light in your house was still on. You definitely fucked up; once again, you were going to get caught coming home late. You were confused as to why your family was still awake. Usually, they were asleep at these hours.
You twisted the doorknob and let yourself in, closing the door carefully so as not to attract their attention. You immediately turned toward the kitchen when you heard laughter. You recognized your familyâs voices, but one particular voice was new. It sounded rich and deep.
You walked slowly and tried to take a peek at the scene. There, your parents and your sister were having dinner with an unfamiliar man. Your jaw dropped when you saw his face; no words could describe it. He was too perfect. You watched as he grabbed the wine and poured it into your sister's glass.
You stayed there for a while, your feet refusing to move toward your room. You observed them, seeing how happy and peaceful they looked. You imagined yourself in that exact scene, sitting beside your parents and laughing genuinely while having dinner. Your thoughts were interrupted when your eyes met the unknown manâs.
Your sister noticed him pause, then followed his gaze and found you standing near the wall, clearly hiding. She called out to you, making your parents turn to look over their shoulders.
âY/N, have dinner with us!â your sister said excitedly. You smiled at her, but your expression immediately dropped when you noticed your parents giving you that familiar disapproving lookâthe one they always gave you.
âNo thanks, Iâm full,â you politely refused, immediately trying to leave the awkward scene. But before you could take a step toward the stairs, you heard the unknown man ask your parents,
âIs she the youngest? Shouldn't she be at this dinner too?â
You could not see your parentsâ expressions, but you already knew what they looked like because of his question. You heard your mother answer awkwardly,
âYeah, but she said sheâs full. Besides, sheâs busy. She has her own little world.â
You hurried upstairs and closed the door to your room. Throwing yourself on the bed, you sank your face into your comfort pillow, feeling it grow damp from your tears. âGosh!â You didnât understand yourself. This happened most of the time, so why were you still crying over something like this?
âDonât cry, youâre supposed to be used to this.â You recalled the way your parents had looked at you earlier. The unfamiliar man, who you assumed to be your sisterâs boyfriend, probably knew by now that you were the black sheep of the family. You felt embarrassed by how the scene had unfolded. He was probably one of the many people who wondered why you were always left out in this family.
Your phone buzzed, and you hesitantly reached for it. âHey, you up?â a message from one of your closest friends, Jay. You debated whether to reply, as you were not in the mood to talk. You just wanted to sleep and wake up in a better universe. Before you could respond, another message came.
âLetâs have a lunch date tomorrow, my treat :)â
You instantly smiled at his text. He always knew how and when to reach you in moments like this. You replied to him and turned off your phone, then got up and grabbed your towel. This was going to be a long, warm shower.
The next morning, your phone buzzed. It was Jay.
Jay: Donât forget our lunch date, 1 p.m. Donât make me wait :)
You smiled faintly. Maybe seeing him would take your mind off last night. You needed a normal day, one where your thoughts didnât feel so heavy.
You wore something simple but nice, Jay always teased you about dressing like you were going to a family reunion. You left the house without saying much to your parents; they barely looked up from what they were doing.
âRight on time,â he said, standing to pull out your chair. âIâm proud.â
You laughed softly and sat down. âI try.â
The two of you talked and ate, the usual mix of teasing and catching up. For a moment, it felt normalâsafe. Until the sound of the door opening pulled your attention.
Your sister walked in. And she wasnât alone. The same man from last night was with her. You froze, the air around you suddenly feeling too tight. Jay glanced between you and the pair, picking up on your reaction.
Your sister spotted you almost immediately and lit up. âY/N! I didnât know you were here.â She walked over with him close behind. âI want you to meet someone.â
You could barely look at him, but you felt his gaze settle on you, unblinking.
âThis is Jungkook,â your sister said proudly, her hand slipping into his. âMy boyfriend.â
The word boyfriend rang in your head, almost mocking you. Jungkookâs lips curved into a faint smile,
Your sister took a sip of her drink, then looked at everyone with a bright smile.
âYou know what we should do?â she said. âWe should go to Jungkookâs studio after this.â Jay raised an eyebrow.
âYour art studio?â Jungkook nodded, his fingers lightly tapping the side of his coffee cup. âYeah. Iâve been working on some new pieces. Itâs just a few streets away. You might like them.â
You glanced at him. There was something in his eyes, calm yet curious, as if he was already imagining how the afternoon would go.
âThat sounds fun,â Jay said, leaning back in his chair. âIâve never been inside an artistâs studio before.â
Your sister looked at you. âWhat do you think? Itâll be interesting.â
You hesitated for a second, but you didnât want to seem like you were overthinking it. âSure,â you said quietly.
Jungkookâs lips curved into a small smile, one that didnât fade even when he looked away. You all finished your drinks, chatting about random things, but every now and then you could feel Jungkookâs gaze on you. It wasnât obvious to the others, but to you, it felt steady and deliberate, like he was already pulling you into his world.
The afternoon air was cooler than you expected when you stepped outside. Your sister walked ahead with Jay, talking about some new restaurant she wanted to try. Jungkook fell into step beside you, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.
âItâs just around the corner,â he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.
You nodded, keeping your eyes forward. You weren't sure why your chest felt tight, maybe it was just the thought of walking into his private space, seeing a side of him similar to yours.
He unlocked it and pushed the door open, holding it for you to enter. The moment you stepped inside, the scent of oil paint and wood hit you. The room was wide, with sunlight pouring in from tall windows.
Canvases leaned against the walls, some covered with cloth, others half-finished. A couch and large wooden table sat in the middle, scattered with brushes, jars of paint, and sketchbooks.
âThis is⊠wow,â Jay said, walking toward a wall filled with framed pieces. Your sister followed him. You stayed near the entrance at first, taking it all in. The space felt alive, like every corner was breathing with the weight of his work.
âYou can look around,â Jungkook said softly from behind you. You turned to find him watching you again, that same unreadable look in his eyes. You just nodded and followed the two who were busy looking at the canvases.
You were mesmerized, his skills in art were absolutely amazing. The way the paintings looked alive. He's definitely a great artist, and a part of you wished to be like him.
A week later, you were in the living room scrolling through your phone when your sisterâs voice called out from upstairs.
âY/N, can you do me a favor? Jungkook is in his studio and I need to run some errands. Can you keep him company?â
You froze for a moment. âUh⊠okay,â you answered. You were confused on why your sister would ask you for such, but you did not bother to ask her. You arrived in front of the building and hesitantly walked inside.
When you pushed the door open, the smell of paint and thinner hit you instantly. Sunlight streamed through the big window, falling across the floor where unfinished canvases leaned against the wall.
Jungkook stood in front of an easel, brush in hand. He looked over his shoulder when he heard you. âYour sister said youâd be coming,â he said, a small smile forming. âCome here.â
You stepped inside, unsure of where to look. There were portraits everywhereâfaces you didnât recognize, scenes that felt too real, almost like photographs.
âYou paint?â he asked, setting his brush down.
âA little,â you said. âMostly sketches though.â
He nodded. âShow me.â
You hesitated, then reached for the small notebook in your bag. You flipped it open and handed it to him. He took his time looking through the pages, his eyes moving slowly over each drawing.
âYou have a good eye,â he said finally. âBut your lines are hesitant. You think too much before you put them down.â
Before you could respond, he moved behind you and placed a clean canvas on the easel. âSit,â he said.
You obeyed, feeling his presence close as he pulled a stool next to you. He placed a brush in your hand and adjusted your fingers around it. His hand lingered on yours for a moment too long, warm and steady.
âWhen you paint,â he said softly, âyou have to forget the world. Only you and what you see matter.â
He guided your hand across the canvas, his voice low in your ear. âDonât be afraid of mistakes. Let the paint move the way it wants.â
Your heart was beating faster, though you didnât know if it was from his words or how close he was leaning. You could feel his breath against your cheek.
When you glanced at him, his eyes werenât on the canvas. They were on you.
Jungkookâs gaze stayed on you for a few seconds too long before he finally leaned back. He picked up another brush, dipped it into a deep red paint, and dragged it across the canvas in one smooth line.
âYou know,â he said quietly, âitâs hard to paint someone unless you really study them. Every detail, every shadow, every flaw.â
You didnât know if he was talking about art or something else.
He set the brush down and looked at you again. âYou should pose for me.â
You blinked. âPose?â
âJust for practice,â he replied. âYouâd be doing me a favor.â His voice was calm, but there was a pull in it, like saying no wasnât really an option.
You hesitated, but he was already pulling a chair into the middle of the room. âSit here,â he said, pointing.
You did as told, feeling the air grow heavier. Jungkook moved around you slowly, his eyes scanning you from head to toe, as if memorizing every line of your body. He didnât even start painting yetâhe just looked.
âDonât move,â he murmured. âEven breathing changes the way the light touches you.â
You felt your skin prickle under his stare. He finally picked up a brush and began painting, his movements slow and deliberate. You couldnât see the canvas from where you sat, but the way his eyes kept flicking between you and the painting made you uneasy.
The room was quiet except for the sound of the brush scratching against the canvas.
After what felt like forever, he finally stopped and stepped aside, turning the canvas so you can see it.
âDo you like it?â he asked.
âItâs⊠different,â you said, unsure how to describe the strange mix of beauty and unease.
He stepped closer, his hands still holding the brush and palette. âI could make more. Better ones. But only if you keep coming back here.â
You frowned. âMy sister mightââ
âShe doesnât need to know.â His voice was low, certain. âArt is private. Itâs between the painter and the muse.â
The way he said muse sent a shiver up your spine. He set the palette down and reached for another canvas, this one already covered in faint pencil lines. âSit again,â he said, but this time his tone wasnât asking.
You obeyed. The room felt smaller now, his movements slower, more deliberate. He painted without speaking, only glancing up at you every few seconds. When he finally stepped back, he was smiling.
You turned to see the canvas and froze. It was you again. But this time, his version of you was leaning against him, his arm draped around your waist. In the painting, you were smiling at him in a way you had never actually smiled in real life.
âThatâs notââ you began.
âItâs how I see you,â he interrupted. âHow I will always see you.â
You didnât know what to say. He picked up a cloth and wiped his hands, walking toward you.
âYouâre better in my world than hers,â he said softly, almost like he was speaking to himself. âShe doesnât understand you like I do.â
You stood, trying to find your voice. âI should go.â
Jungkook didnât stop you, but his eyes followed you to the door. âTomorrow,â he said, âcome back. Weâll make something no one else will ever see.â
You told yourself you wouldnât go back.
But the next day, you found yourself standing outside the studio door again. You could hear soft music inside, the smell of oil paint drifting through the small gap.
You knocked lightly.
âItâs open,â Jungkookâs voice called.
When you stepped inside, he was already waiting. A fresh canvas sat on the easel, and beside it was a stool set just for you.
âI thought you might come,â he said.
You hesitated. âMy sisterââ
âSheâs out,â he cut in. âItâs just us.â
He handed you a loose white shirt that looked like something an artist would give a model to wear. âPut this on so the paint doesnât ruin your clothes.â
You froze for a second, then took it, slipping it over your head. It hung loosely, the hem brushing your thighs.
Jungkook watched silently, his eyes tracing every movement. âPerfect,â he said under his breath.
You sat where he told you to, and the session began. But today felt different. His instructions were softer, almost intimate. He walked behind you to adjust your shoulders, his fingertips brushing lightly against your skin.
âRelax,â he murmured. âYou look tense.â
âI am tense,â you admitted.
He chuckled low. âThen trust me.â
Hours passed without you realizing it. He painted as if the world outside didnât exist, and you felt yourself sinking into the quiet rhythm of his voice and the sound of the brush.
When he finally stopped, he stepped back and let you see. The painting was you again but this time your head was resting on his shoulder. His hand in the painting held yours, your fingers intertwined. The colors were warm, almost romantic, but there was something in your painted eyes that looked⊠trapped.
You swallowed hard. âPeople will thinkââ
âPeople donât matter,â he said sharply. Then, softer, âThis is ours. Just ours.â
He placed the brush down and walked closer. âYou donât realize how beautiful you are when youâre with me.â Your heart pounded. This was wrong. You knew it. But you didnât move.
You stayed frozen in your seat, his words still hanging in the air. Jungkook was close enough that you could smell the faint mix of paint and cologne on him. His hand brushed yours, slow and deliberate, leaving behind a heat you tried to ignore.
Before you could say anything, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then turned it face-down on the table.
âItâs her,â he said quietly. âDonât speak.â
Your chest tightened. You sat perfectly still, listening to his voice soften in a way you had never heard him use with you.
âYeah, Iâm still at the studio⊠No, Iâm just working on something,â he said into the phone. His eyes stayed on you the whole time.
âIâll see you later.â When he ended the call, there was a faint smirk on his lips.
âShe doesnât suspect a thing.â You stood abruptly, needing space, but he stepped in front of you.
âY/N,â he said, his tone dropping. âYou think this is wrong.â
You met his gaze. âIt is wrong.â
He tilted his head slightly. âThen why are you still here?â
You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Jungkookâs eyes darkened, as if your silence gave him an answer. He reached past you and picked up a rag to wipe his hands, though the red paint on his fingers smeared darker across the cloth.
âYouâll be back,â he said simply. âYou always come back.â
The sound of footsteps in the hallway made you both freeze. The door handle turned slightly before stopping, then your sisterâs voice called from outside, cheerful and unaware.
âY/N? Are you in there?â Your stomach dropped. Jungkookâs eyes never left yours as he whispered,
âSay nothing.â
The door opened before you could respond. Your sister stepped inside, smiling as if nothing could possibly be wrong.
âThere you are,â she said, glancing between the two of you. âWhat are you doing?â
Jungkook moved first. He stepped away from you and picked up the canvas, turning it so she could see. âI was showing Y/N some painting techniques,â he said easily, his voice smooth. âSheâs got a good hand for it.â
Your sisterâs eyes lit up. âReally? I didnât know you painted, Y/N.â You forced a small laugh. âI⊠donât. Not much.â
âShe could,â Jungkook said, smiling at her but keeping his eyes on you for a fraction longer than necessary. âShe just needs the right teacher.â
Your sister walked over to look at the painting. âThis is beautiful. You made her look soââ She paused, tilting her head. âDifferent.â
âArt isnât about copying reality,â Jungkook replied. âItâs about showing whatâs hidden.â Something in his tone made your skin crawl. Your sister, however, only nodded, clearly impressed.
âThatâs amazing,â she said, resting her hand on his arm. âCome on, letâs head out for dinner.â
She turned to you. âYou should join us, Y/N.â
âIâm not really hungry,â you said quickly, stepping outside the studio.
Jungkookâs gaze lingered on you as he followed your sister out. Just before you parted ways with them, he looked at you and mouthed something you almost didnât catch.
Youâll miss me.
Youâre walking down a quiet street. The air smells like rain, and the streetlights make long shadows on the ground.
A car slows beside you. The window rolls down, and you see Jungkook in the driverâs seat. His eyes scan you from head to toe, stopping like heâs been looking for you all this time.
âGet in,â he says, his voice low but firm.
You stop walking. âWhy?â
âItâs late,â he says. âYou shouldnât be walking alone.â
The way he says it doesnât sound like concern. It sounds like a warning.
You get into the passenger seat. The smell of paint and turpentine fills your noseâjust like the studio. When you close the door, his hand brushes against yours. Itâs a small touch, but it makes your chest tighten.
He drives in silence, but you can feel his eyes on you in the windowâs reflection. At a red light, his hand rests on the back of your seat, his fingers close enough to touch your hair.
âYou should come to the studio again,â he says. âI didnât finish teaching you last time.â
He smirks slightly. The car turns, but not toward your house. The street is darker here. Rain starts to fall again, soft and steady.
The car stops in front of his studio. The building is dark except for the light spilling from one window.
You hesitate. âItâs late.â
âI know,â Jungkook says, getting out. âNo one will bother us.â
Something in the way he says âusâ makes your pulse quicken.
Inside, the air is warm and smells like oil paint. Canvases lean against the walls, some finished, some with strange, shadowy shapes. The floor creaks under your steps.
Jungkook pulls out a clean canvas and sets it on the easel. âIâll show you something new,â he says, picking up a brush. âCome closer.â
You stand beside him. He dips the brush into paint, then takes your hand, guiding your fingers around it. His touch is steady, but his grip is firm, almost like he doesnât want you to move away.
âRelax,â he murmurs near your ear. His breath is warm against your skin. âLet me guide you.â
The brush moves slowly across the canvas, his hand over yours. His chest is close to your back, his presence heavy, filling the space around you.
âSee how the lines curve?â he whispers, but his lips are so close you feel them graze your skin.
Your breath catches. You feel his other hand settle on your hip, pulling you just slightly closer.
The brush stops moving. The studio is quiet except for the sound of rain outside and your heartbeat pounding in your ears.
âDo you trust me?â he asks. His voice is low, but thereâs something dangerous under it, like he already knows your answer.
When you nod, his lips find yours. The paintbrush drops, hitting the floor. His kisses grew desperate as he deepened the kiss, his tongue colliding with yours. His hand found your clothed breast, massaging it gently, pulling a soft moan from your lips.
Your lips parted from his, a long string of saliva connecting you both. You panted heavily, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from the intense make out session.
Jungkookâs hand continued to fondle your breast through your top, his thumb circling your hardening nipple. "I want more of you," he murmured huskily, his eyes dark with desire.
He leaned in, kissing along your jawline, down your neck, leaving a trail of fire on your sensitive skin. His hands roamed your body, slipping under your shirt to caress the smooth skin of your stomach.
You gasped at his touch, arching into him. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in his silky locks as he continued his exploration on your body.
Jungkook's lips found yours again in a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth. He pushed you down onto the floor, his muscular body covering yours. His hands tugged at your shirt, lifting it up along with your bra over your head in one swift motion.
He sat back, admiring your now exposed upper body. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, trailing a finger down your chest, between your breasts, and stopping at the waistband of your jeans.
Jungkook leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucked and licked at the sensitive bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His free hand continued its exploration, dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans to stroke your heated core through your soaked panties.
You bucked against his hand, moaning loudly. "Jungkook, please," you panted, desperate for more of his touch.
He smirked against your breast, giving it one last lick before sitting back up. "I'm going to make you feel so good," he promised, his voice low and seductive.
His hands went to the button of your jeans, popping it open and slowly dragging the zipper down. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, tugging your jeans and panties down in one go.
Jungkook tossed them to the side, his eyes roaming over your now fully naked body. He licked his lips, a look of pure hunger in his eyes.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he breathed, before diving back down, peppering kisses across your stomach, heading lower and lower until he reached your glistening folds.
He inhaled deeply, taking in your intoxicating scent. "You smell so good," he murmured, before parting your thighs with his hands.
Jungkook leaned in, flicking his tongue against your clit, earning a loud moan from you. He continued his assault, licking and sucking at your sensitive nub, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
One of his hands snaked up your body, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers. His other hand went to your entrance, a finger teasing your opening.
"Please," you begged, bucking against his face. "I need more."
Jungkook smirked, giving your clit one last lick before plunging a finger deep inside you. He curled it upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside you as he continued his assault on your clit with his tongue.
You cried out, hands fisting in his hair as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips bucked wildly against his face, chasing your release.
Jungkook added a second finger, pumping them in and out of you at a rapid pace. His tongue circled your clit, alternating between quick flicks and long, slow licks.
It was too much, and you felt your orgasm building rapidly. "Jungkook, I'm going to come!" you warned, your voice tight with pleasure.
He doubled his efforts, fingers pumping furiously as his tongue worked overtime on your clit. It was only a matter of seconds before you were crying out in ecstasy, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.
Jungkook continued his ministrations, drawing out your pleasure until you were a boneless mess beneath him. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean.
"You taste so good," he murmured, giving you a wicked grin.
He crawled up your body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only served to reignite the desire burning inside you.
"I need you," you whispered against his lips, hands roaming over his clothed body. "I want to feel you inside me."
Jungkookâs eyes darkened at your words, a smirk playing on his lips. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, before capturing your lips in another passionate kiss.
He tugged at the waistband of his jeans. He shimmied out of them, along with his boxers, tossing them aside carelessly.
Jungkook settled himself between your thighs, rubbing his hard cock against yours. "Fuck, you're so wet," he breathed, grinding harder against you.
You moaned at the friction, bucking against him. "Please, I need you inside me," you begged, desperate to feel him stretching you out.
Jungkook lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed forward slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.
"Fuck," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "You feel incredible."
He started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back into you. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, hands grasping at his hips.
Jungkook set a brutal pace, pounding into you with abandon. The sound of skin slapping filled the room.
It was pure bliss, feeling Jungkook moving inside you, stretching you out in the most delicious way. Your hands roamed over his back and ass, digging into his flesh as he brought you closer and closer to another orgasm.
Jungkook leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucked hard, grazing it with his teeth before moving to the other one. He repeated the process, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.
"Come for me," he growled against your skin, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. "I want to feel you come all over my cock."
His words were the push you needed, and you came with a scream, back arching off the floor as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.
Jungkook followed soon after, burying himself deep inside you as he found his own release. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting heavily as you came down from high.
"Fuck," Jungkook breathed, peppering kisses across your face. "That was incredible."
You could only nod in response, still trying to catch your breath. You both lay there for a few moments, basking in the afterglow of our intense sex.
Finally, Jungkook pulled out of you, rolling off to the side. He pulled you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.
"That was amazing," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'm so glad I met you."
You smiled against his chest, snuggling closer to his warmth. "Me too," you whispered back.
With that, you both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, completely satisfied and content.
It kept happening.
No matter how much you told yourself it was wrong, you still found yourself in his arms, pressed against the walls of his studio, his lips claiming yours like he owned you.
Sometimes it was quick and frantic, other times slow and drawn out until your head spun. Each time, the guilt sank deeper into your chest. You couldnât look your sister in the eye for too long anymore, afraid she might read the truth in your expression.
At night, lying in bed, the memories replayedâthe heat of Jungkookâs hands, the way his voice dropped low when he whispered your name, the hunger in his eyes.
You hated yourself for letting it happen. But you hated how much you wanted it even more.
And the worst part? Jungkook knew.
He could see the hesitation, the way you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, only for him to pull you close again. His smirk always said the same thing,
Youâre mine. And Iâm not letting you go.
Until you couldnât do it anymore.
Every kiss, every stolen moment with Jungkook was another dagger in your chest. The guilt was eating you alive, and the only way to breathe again was to end it.
So you went to him.
His studio smelled like paint and turpentine, the afternoon light spilling through the windows. He was at the easel, brush in hand, when you spoke.
âJungkook⊠we need to stop.â
The brush froze mid-stroke. His head tilted slowly, too slowly, like a predator hearing prey.
âStop?â His voice was calm..too calm.
Your throat felt dry. âThis⊠us. Itâs wrong. I have toââ
The sound of the brush snapping in his grip made you flinch.
âYou think you can walk away from me?â he asked, stepping toward you. Each step echoed. âAfter everything?â
You swallowed hard. âJungkook, please, Iââ
He didnât yell. He didnât scream. He just smiled. And somehow, that was worse.
âYouâll regret saying that,â he whispered.
The apartment was quiet when your sister returned from work. She needed to hurry as she promised to you that both of you will have a sleep over. She dropped her bag on the couch and noticed a faint smell of paint in the air..
A voice echoed from the shadows.
She froze. The figure stepped forward, and the dim light revealed Jungkook. His black shirt was splattered with dried flecks of paint⊠and something darker. His eyes held that same unsettling calm, but his smile didnât reach them.
âOh, I didn't know you're coming.â she said with confusion and surprise.
âI need to talk to you,â he said, walking closer. âYouâve been getting in the way.â
âIn the way of what? I don't understand.â she asked, stepping back. âJungkook, you're scaring me!â
âIn the way of me and her,â he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. âShe belongs to me. But you keep making her feel guilty. You keep trying to take her away from me.â
She reached for her phone on the counter, but he grabbed her wrist before she could touch it. His grip was strong, unshakable.
âYou donât get it,â he whispered, leaning close. âIf youâre gone⊠sheâll have no choice but to stay.â
She tried to scream, but his other hand wrapped around her throat. He pushed her down to the cold kitchen floor. She fought, scratching at his arms, but his hold only got tighter.
When her body grew weaker, Jungkook breathed harder. He let go just for a moment, long enough to pull a small, sharp palette knife from his pocket. The blade caught the light.
Jungkook's eyes gleamed with a manic intensity as he raised the small palette knife, the sharp edge glinting wickedly in the dim light.
The blade bit into her flesh, drawing a thin line of crimson that welled up and trickled down her neck. He pressed harder, the knife sinking deeper until it hit bone.
With a snarl, he began to saw at her throat, back and forth, back and forth. Each stroke ripped through skin and muscle, splattering the walls with gore. Her screams grew weaker, her struggles lessening as life drained from her body.
Blood gushed from the wound, painting her chest and the floor beneath a deep, rich red. Jungkook stepped back to admire his handiwork, his chest heaving as he panted for air.
The body lay still at his feet, the face already growing pale and lifeless. But the throat - oh, what a masterpiece. With a satisfied grin, Jungkook wiped the knife clean on his shirt and slipped it back into his pocket. It was time to leave this place behind.
The rain had been falling for hours. It was cold and heavy, making the streetlights look blurry and soft. You were making tea while you waited for your sister to come home from her apartment.
Then you heard a knock. Three short knocks, clear and firm.
When you opened the door, Jungkook was there. He had no umbrella and no jacket. His hair was wet and sticking to his forehead, water running down his face.
He was holding a large canvas covered by a white sheet.
âI finished it,â he said in a low voice. Without asking, he stepped inside, his wet boots leaving marks on the floor.
You looked toward the hallway. âWhere is my sister? She said she was coming home.â
âShe is not.â Jungkook said. His voice was calm but there was something strange about it. âShe will not be a problem anymore.â
A shiver went through you. Still, you followed him into the living room. The rain outside sounded louder, pressing against the windows.
Jungkook set the canvas down. He took hold of the sheet and pulled it away. Your eyes widened.
It was you.
Painted so perfectly it almost looked real. Your shoulders bare, your eyes turned slightly to the side, your lips open as if you were about to speak. Every detail was exact.
Jungkook stepped closer. His eyes stayed locked on yours. His hand was covered in something dark red, and he gently touched your jaw.
âNow it is just us,â he whispered. âMy muse, all mine.â
You looked back at the painting. The shadows seemed to move. Something thick and dark was dripping from the bottom of the frame. It slid down slowly before dropping to the floor with a heavy sound.
The dark liquid began to pool at your feet. For the first time, you wished he had never noticed you.
Or at least, thatâs what you told yourself the first time Jungkookâs hand lingered on yours while passing you a brush.
Your sister trusted you both. She never noticed the way his eyes softened when you walked in, how he leaned in too close when explaining his painting techniques, his breath warm on your neck.
She didnât see the way youâd sneak into his studio late at night, the smell of linseed oil and something sweeter wrapping around you both as he painted.
He said you were perfect in ways she could never beâyour expression, your patience, the way you looked at him like he was more than a man, more than an artist. You never asked why he never painted her anymore.
Then one night, she didnât come home.
Jungkook arrived instead. No warning. Just him, soaked from the rain, carrying a canvas taller than you.
âI finally finished it,â he said, stepping past you.
The sheet came off in one smooth pull.
It was youâposed in a way only he had ever seen you, every detail so vivid it felt like the painting could breathe.
âSheâs not in the way anymore,â Jungkook whispered, his fingersâstained with a deep red liquid traced your jaw. âNow itâs just us. My muse⊠all mine.â
Something thick dripped from the edge of the frame, pooling dark on your floor. And for the first time, you wished heâd never looked at you at all.
HI! I JUST DISCOVERED YOUR BLOG WITH 'Not Until I Say So' AND I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT YOUR WRITING IS TOP NOTCH THE BEST OF THE BEST, IN A MATTER OF HOURS YOU BECAME ONE OF MY FAVORITE WRITERS EVER!! đ
BTW I LOVE 'Inkflunce' SO FRICKING MUCH IT'S SO AMAZING!! đ
I just opened this account, and I know itâs late, but thank youuu đ„č Your words mean so much to meee. Luvv yaaa â€ïž
where are you baeeee????????? i miss you and the daily updates so muchhhhđđâčïžâčïžâčïž
Omg, I miss you all so much too, guys đ Every week feels like hell. I donât even have time to write đ But I promise, Iâll try to write as many stories as I can once Iâm finally freeeeeeeeee (pray for me pls đ„Č)
hi, can you please make a drabble for influence??? i badly want to know how jk develop an obsession towards y/n, his plans to get her and how their relationship works after the last chapter đ
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