assassin! jk x fem! reader
Summary: Being one of the best assassin’s come with its faults. One of them? The worst of them all would want you. Jungkook only kills deranged, evil men, but as a threat is offered to the only support in his life, Jungkook realizes he’ll kill you to keep his bestfriend Hoseok alive. Problem is? You’ve had a crush on him for months, your need for him being painfully obvious by your words. He thinks it will make the job easier. Until he realizes he can’t kill you. Who would be the one to end up dead? You or Hoseok?
warnings: FAST BURN (love at first sight)!, ending is rushed but just deal with it, reader has been crushing on him for months, jungkook needs to kill reader, jungkook is 11 almost 12 years older than reader, harsh and foul language's, reader is crazy for jungkook (pushes every common sense away), jungkook’s life is hell, hoseok is sick, near death for the reader, jungkook is forced with blackmail, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it guys) , frustrated sex, fingering, jungkook has foul words but soft at the end, jungkook is rough, smoking while fucking, breast play, etc…
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ─ "Your friend is at the hospital, right?"
Jeon Jungkook's day— although starting off with a mild migraine— actually was pretty tame. His day at work was just boring at its most, and Hoseok had woken up for the morning.
They spent all of Jungkook's visit there chatting about usual topics that made Hoseok beam, even with the oxygen tube sitting uncomfortably in his nose. Jungkook's presence, let alone, had the injured man's mouth run for hours although the doctors clear instructions to stay at caution.
His day simply would've been perfect if it weren't for the rent bill waiting for him, almost tauntingly, at his doorstep.
But now, as an older man with crinkled eyes and polished teeth stared down at Jungkook, Hoseok's name resting like a fishing bait on his tongue— his days, like every other, had plummeted into horrid.
He was Mr. Choi, a man whose wealth was built on the kinds of foundations that rotted from the inside out. He stood in the narrow hallway of Jungkook's apartment building, staring into his eyes as his teeth chewed down on a wooden toothpick.
Jungkook kept his face dangerously straight, his breathing calm. He took a sigh in, the sound almost reaching Mr Choi, and reached into his pocket where his thumb reflexively traced the blade kept there.
"Hoseok," Jungkook repeated, his voice devoid of emotion although his heart was racing. "What about him?"
Choi chuckled, taking a step closer. The sound of his cologne hit Jungkook straight as the man seemed to kill Jungkook's personal space. "He had a bad fall, huh? I've seen the police records, it's a shame they were just so close to finding the small business the two of you walk under. Maybe so, he wouldn't be asleep twenty hours of the day."
Jungkook felt a familiar coldness bloom in the center of his chest. It was the same stillness he felt before pulling a trigger—the world slowing down, the heartbeat leveling out.
Jungkook felt his eyes twitch. "Keep his name out of your mouth."
Choi reached into his coat and pulled out a single, thick envelope. The kind of envelope that had people wondering if the weight was just the check that could pay off every debt— or the weight of the person that was brutally murdered from your own hands.
"There is a woman," he said, pulling out a cigarette. "A young one. She thinks she's anonymous, living in the heights of the city, but she's becoming a complication for me and my associates. Her death could bring her father to finally sell his companies to us."
Jungkook looked down at the photo inside of the envelope.
It was a young girl— you— possibly so much younger than him that when you were learning to count, Jungkook was learning how to pull a guns trigger. You sat under a university's plaza, smiling at your friends like there weren't any problems surfacing around you.
Like you were living in the world Jungkook had forgotten existed.
"She's a student," Jungkook noted, his brow furrowing. "University of Seoul."
"She's gold," Choi corrected. "The exact death that could have the boys and I thriving."
"I kill stuck up men," Jungkook sneered, gripping his door so hard his knuckles had flushed a pale white. "People who have done wrong to the world."
Jungkook serged his arm forward, ready to slam the weight of his door in the older man's face. But he reached out, palm slapping against the wood in a force it had Jungkook's brow rising.
"If you want to keep your friend's medical equipment running, you'll make sure she stops breathing by the end of the week. Do this, and you're set for life. Fail, and Hoseok will find his oxygen supply a memory."
Jungkook was almost positive a dagger was sliced through the small of his heart.
Was this a fucking threat?
A threat to murder Hoseok— the man who's seen Jungkook through light and day, sadness and guilt, pain and agony? The man who's saved Jungkook's life countless times where he's genuinely lost count? The same man that Jungkook breathes and wakes every day for, much to his dismay?
In a blink of an eye, his tatted hands were wrapped around the rough skin lining Choi's throat. Jungkook watched, his heart racing as his face turned from a slick smirk to a shade of slight purple. His eyes that held that glint? They were opposed at the sides, the red blood vessels looking way too familiar of blood gushing out of Jungkook's wrists.
"If you ever go fucking near Hoseok or his hospital, I will burn every single ground you choose to walk on. Life in prison seems like a fortune if that means I could snap the necks of every single loved one of yours, peel their skin, torture them until I see you die from the grief. I will ruin your life before I send you under—I will make the last months of your life a personal hell, just to brace you for your visit—"
"Kill the girl," Choi choked out, his smile brunching up skin around the pure death of his eyes. "And your guy will be okay."
Cursing under his breath, Jungkook released Choi with a shove until his back had hit the neighboring wall behind the two of them. His heart was pounding and his veins swelled in the crave to light a cigarette, maybe consume anything that would take him out of the reality that Hoseok had gotten a threat.
The reality that just maybe, one day, Hoseok wouldn't be around to be used as blackmail.
But seriously? Hoseok? A threat to kill him out of any other accomplice Jungkook would get his hands all bloody for? Hoseok, the man who's so skilled at sneaking and killing no matter how naturally loud and sunshine he is? The man who has people racing at their swelled feet just to have an offer for him?
'No,' - his dirty conscious yelled in his ears. 'You know that's not why you think he'll be gone soon. A threat won't end him. Simply his own body would.'
"Fine," Jungkook let out a painfully hard breath. "I'll do it."
"Great," Choi smiled although his hands were gently kneading at the pink flush marking his neck right where Jungkook spat out his rage. "I know i'll have her body at the end of this week, Jeon. Please don't make my expectations come as false."
Jungkook watched, his hand squeezing harder against the wood of his door as he watched Choi's back, his retreating frame giving an echo of footsteps that sung too loudly in his ears.
He looked over his shoulder, eyes falling on a small portrait. Him and Hoseok smiling together on the edge of a bridge although the height was well enough to have one dead. Hoseok was simply his light in Jungkook's world of dark corners and twisting stomachs. The softness to his rotten exterior.
A small noise choked from his throat along with the thought that he'd do anything to keep Hoseok breathing.
You flowed perfectly with the crowd.
There was a way you walked, almost elegantly, so eye-catching and alluring it had the swarms of people around to discreetly move away to not interrupt your movement. It was an act of absentminded worship, a type of worship that only you were aware of. A worship that made your hands feel as if they were weighted— pressed down with all of the hearts you held clutched into your palms.
Fingers digging into the pumping flesh, blood daring to get caught under your nails. The blood was concealed. Hidden by the manicure you didn't have to ask for, your father just granted with the swipe of his card.
You sat down at your usual booth, sunlight and the cushions vinyl adjusting to you properly just like any other thing was expected to do.
There was a way your bones curved at the spot just between your neck and shoulder, how they slightly indented in as you reached out to take a sip from your coffee. A coffee that only took a small glance into the baristas ashy eyes to have. A coffee that would keep you and your attitude in place for the day.
Sunlight seemed to blend in perfectly at your soft dermis, a much needed action that had Jungkook's heart malfunctioning.
This is the woman he had to kill?
The woman that— even this far away— Jungkook knew would have the perfect curve against his own frame? The woman that his eyes struggled to peel away, even if the hair on your neck rose from the feeling with a simple woman's tuition? The woman that was eleven years younger than him, young smiles and eyes that gave such an unwanted punch to his groin?
The woman that had yet another soul kneeling at her feet.
The woman that already had her eyes on him.
He didn't even realize until the corner of your lips lifted into a sweet, teeth-showing smile that squished your cheeks. Your hand raised, offering the starstruck man an inviting wave, not stopping until Jungkook started his shirt journey over to your booth.
He stopped once the wood table had a few centimeters short of brushing his thigh. His eyes completely locked on you, a dark gaze that you had prayed for nights on end to feel pierce through your nerves.
And it was just as you expected.
His gaze was strong, pulling as if his eyes were magnets and your curves metal. The gaze that felt raw and broken, a feel that had your thighs tightening together and your neck swallow up a light pink. A pink that matched the gloss coating your lips. The gloss Jungkook struggled to look away from.
"About time you noticed me," You said immediately, giving that usual dirty hint at the edge of the sweet melody. A hint that you used whenever you found a male simply intriguing. "I was starting to think I was invisible to your eyes."
Invisible to the eyes that had your fingers shoved between your thighs whenever you thought of them.
It was pathetic sounding.
A sudden clench came from his jaw, a movement that had the skin over his throat shifting for. A bob his throat when he asked, "How do you know me?”
"How could I not?" Manicured nails curled around your plastic coffee cup. "I took a first glance at you and I was intrigued. Just one look and I knew you had already engraved somewhere in my mind."
His pierced brow gave a slight raise. "Is that so?"
"Yeah," you watched his eyes fall to your lips as you gave them a small lick of your tongue, a then bite of the flesh. "Jeon Jungkook, I'm Y/n."
You watched, heart beat unnaturally hard as the dark of his eyes hardened with a sudden thought. The pure black irises giving a small glint as a sudden thought seemed to change his face.
The thought gave his mouth a sudden, barely noticeable curve.
"Y/n," he repeated your name under his lips, resting how it felt on his tongue. The sound vibrated through your skin, giving a sudden clench of need bursting through your mannered state.
It wasn't the sound of a man being introduced to a stranger— it was the sound of a predator acknowledging his prey, though you were far too intoxicated by the proximity of him to even notice.
He leaned forward, his hands on the table top, bringing his face down to your level. Up close, the lines of his face were even rougher. A manly scent coming from him that made your head swim.
"You seem very sure of yourself, Y/n," he murmured. "Most people don't make a habit of staring at strangers until they're forced to say hello."
"Most people aren't worth the effort of being noticed," you countered while tilting your head, your hair falling over your shoulder and you saw his gaze track the movement. "I've been watching you for weeks. You can be a pretty rough man... it's just my type."
"Watching," he repeated along with the narrow of his eyes. "I didn't know I had a pretty little stalker on my ass."
"I wouldn't say stalker," you replied, leaning in just enough the air between you disappeared. "But I like pretty. You fuck pretty girls, huh?"
Jungkook was telling himself this could work.
If the closeness between the two of you was tight— never broken— but close until it was suffocating, it could have his job pass easier than it needed to be.
It could have Hoseok live.
"I don't fuck girls with big egos," he countered. "It's exhausting to hear."
"Let me show you real exhaustion then, Jeon." You were being unfiltered but you didn't care. Months of the thought of him inside of you was driving you nuts and the reality was the only thing that could calm you down. "Then maybe, you'll change your mind on bitches with ego's."
"I have places to be tonight," was all that he replied instead. And when his face finally moved from yours, a wave of disappointment flood through you. "And things to do. I don't like to get interrupted."
You opened your mouth to protest, but he had beat you to it.
"Tomorrow, I want to see you at Fantasy's. Ten at night. Don't be late."
You had finally done it—you had pulled him into your orbit.
Your nerves were at an all time peak. You weren't the one to get nervous but the more your mind drifted to how close Jungkook had gotten to you yesterday— how he promised a night at the club— the more your body gave a persistent squeeze.
You remember when you first saw him.
You were at your father's gym, a pink two piece sticking to every provocative inch on your frame. Like always, you came whenever your father wasn't sitting in his office, it just made your experience there way more easier.
Your father noticed what type of effect you brought to the people around you. He's known for long, first noticing when you simply were just a toddler.
Your father knows what type of people surround him.
And just what they could do to you.
He was overly protective, you weren't exactly too sure why he was so, the man never telling you the dangers someone like you face without knowing. You didn't see it that way. You just saw him as annoying. A nuisance.
Your skin was flushed pink, almost matching the two piece around you. You gripped a water bottle around your exhausting fingers, the bones trembling as you wiped sweat off your forehead.
You were panting, your lips parted for gasps of air. You completed your sets, your focus now being locked to going home and relaxing in the comfort of your own bed.
A build of perfect, taut muscles lined together to craft pure perfection. His biceps flexed, veins popping, as he pulled the sharpness of his chin to the tall bar above him. Lines of sweat fell down the honey of his skin, a heated sight that had you stopping dead in your tracks.
He didn't look like the other men who frequented your father's business– he didn't check his form, he didn't boast, and he certainly didn't seek approval.
He looked like a man who had seen the end of the world and was currently deciding whether or not to hurry it along.
A wave of desire mixed with the heat already throbbed through your frame.
There was something about his naturally quiet, dismissing tone to his presence that had you aching with curiosity.
Who is this man and how could you get your hands on him?
Your eyes were blinkless as he reached down to grab ahold of his phone, bicep flexing by the action.
The moment he answered his phone, his smooth voice cutting through the clanks of nearby weights– your heart beat so hard you stumbled back onto a nearby squat seat.
"Hoseok," He greeted with a pant, reaching down to wipe the back of his neck with a white towel.
It was an intimate, raw and laced with fragility that it caught you fully off guard.
He was entirely consumed by the person on the other end of the line, his features softening in a way that made your chest ache with a sudden spike of jealousy.
"Yeah, I'm heading out now," he murmured, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly against the side of his phone. "I'll be there in twenty. Just... keep breathing for me, alright?"
He ended the call, his expression shifting back to that cold mask. He tossed the towel over his shoulder, the motion fluid and predatory, and began to pace toward the exit.
Every muscle in his back moved in a slow, hypnotic movement that made your throat go dry.
He walked past the rows of benches, past the grunting powerlifters who instinctively cleared a path, but he never turned his head.
To him, you were just part of the background noise—the hum of the treadmill, the static of the gym, a girl in a pink set who didn't even exist in his orbit.
You were pacing to the front stand desk before your brain could even process anything.
The workers saw you and instantly bowed. "Hey, ma'am."
"Hey," you replied, masking a sweet smile onto your lips although your insides were on fire. You felt like you were suffocating. "Can I, uh, check the visitor list please? By my father's request."
The lady– Mrs Han– let a moment of confusion mask her features. A drawn of her eyebrows, leaving crevices, a sharp of her eyes. But before it could become anything too apparent– she quickly changed into that nice formality.
"Sure," she motioned you around the counter, using the mouse pad to log into the mountain of members piling on her screen. "Because your father said so."
It took you a while, a time that had Mrs Han whispering questions on why you were so invested into this hunt.
You rested your chin on your palm, sweat now dried over your skin and body back to normal temperature– but the place between your legs? It gone haywire. You couldn't stop thinking about him.
Flashes of members came as you scrolled on and on, your agitation growing as you struggled to find that hint of pure art.
But once you saw that familiar face– the piercings, the dead face, the eyes that looked heavy as if they carried something most don't– a slow, warm smile spread over your lips.
You clicked on his profile.
Jeon Jungkook. 34. 09/1/97.
God, he was older than you.
So much older than you, almost twelve years of life he experienced until you took your first breaths.
Now, hours before the club tonight, that memory was a burn in your mind.
A twisted, desired, perfect burn.
You sat in front of your large vanity, your fingers trembling in excitement as you applied a dark gloss to your lips.
Everything about you tonight was laced in darkness. You knew he loved the dark and if it means to change your whole appearance to make his heart churn– you'd gladly do it.
You weren't just getting ready for a night out, you were dressing for a needy massacre.
You knew he was a dangerous man– every instinct, every drop of blood in your veins told you that he was capable of snapping your neck just as easily as he could press you against the wall.
The thought didn't make you want to call for help or scramble away. It made you want to run faster into his line of fire.
The mountains of tattoos and scars told a wordless story.
But they also told you how much you craved to drag your tongue against the taste.
You checked your reflection again. You looked perfect, alluring, so lethal in your own way you knew it would drive your dad crazy. But that's not who you wanted to watch spiral.
You wanted to haunt Jungkooks dreams just like he invaded yours.
Fantasy was a place of striving violent lights and speaker bass' so loud it felt like a physical heartbeat. It was a place where people came to lose their identities, tucked away in the city's corners—the perfect hunting ground for a man who lived in the shadows.
Jungkook leaned against a support pillar near the bar, his eyes tracking the room with an assassin's gaze.
He held a glass of something strong and untouched, his gaze constantly shooting back to the entrance. When he saw you walk in, the air around him seemed to thin.
You were wearing a dress of dark silk that clung to your skin like a second layer of desire. You moved through the crowd with that same alluring grace, your presence carving a path through the jumping bodies.
Jungkook watched as your hips swayed slightly with every intoxicating step. How the lights reflected off your skin, a thrashing blind that almost made him choke on his breath. Your lips were stained with a deep gloss, a darkness that he couldn't help but wonder how sweet the taste could feel against his tastebuds.
When you finally found him, your smile was small and entirely intentional.
You stopped in front of him, the heat radiating from your skin clashing with the cold, controlled stillness of his posture.
"You came," he said, his voice barely audible over the thrum of the speakers.
"Did I forget to tell you, Jeon?" you whispered, stepping into his space, your hand sliding up the rough leather of his jacket. "I'm not a woman who gives up on what I want."
Jungkook's jaw clenched, the dagger now sitting heavy in his pants pocket. You were staring hard into his eyes, a glisten so soft it made his heart go haywire. He needed to kill you, he needed to see your blood on his hands.
He closed his eyes, a sigh threatening to tear from his throat.
He needed to get close to you, needed to make this job easier from him.
But the more he looks at your eyes— the more he realized it may as well have made things harder.
He opened his eyes again, his heart skipping a beat when the beautiful image of you flashed through his vision.
"Let's go get a drink," you said softly, your eyes flickering down to the glass he gripped so hard in his hands his knuckles were pale. "Although it already looks like you have one..."
"Sorry," he apologized but then mentally swore at himself at the back of his mind. Seriously? He's apologizing? What's wrong with him? "I just needed... whatever, c'mon."
You slipped your hand around his bicep, curling your fingers against the leather barrier with a deliberate slowness, his mind did a full 360. "So I don't get lost," you joked but you both knew it was an excuse.
You needed to feel your hands on him.
Jungkook didn't pull away from your hands. He simply just... couldn't.
It felt as if you had bypassed every nerve and trapped your touch directly to his adrenaline supply.
He looked down at your hand, his brow furrowing. Your nails were long and black tonight. Just yesterday afternoon they were a cute, short baby pink.
He looked at you for a quick second, gaze sharp and dark. Before he could say anything, you tugged at his muscle and dragged the two of you to the bar.
He followed, movements stiff, like he was fighting the urge to shake you off. Each step was testing him. To see how much further his body would allow you to push him until he reacted, or the simple logic he needed to have– to watch the beautiful color drain out of your face.
When you reached the bar, you didn't let go. You stood so close that your side brushed his thigh, and he could smell the faint sweet trace of vanilla on your skin.
"One whiskey, neat," you ordered, holding the bartender's gaze until he scurried to comply.
You turned back to Jungkook, tilting your head, your hair flooding over the curve of your shoulder.
Your other hand gently curled around the leather of his belt, deliberately pulling his dark, heavy jeans higher over his hips. "You're tense, baby. Is something wrong?”
He gripped the edge of the bar, his knuckles turning white again.
A slow smile tugged at your lips. It was simple, your magic was working.
"Im not a fan of crowds," he muttered, his eyes dark that reflected the flickering neon lights. You watched as his eyes drifted down to your gloss, closed for a long second, then back to your eyes. "And being called Baby by strangers."
"I'm not a stranger, though," you replied, taking your hands away from his belt to grab your crystal glass. "I'm more than that. Wish to be way, way more, baby. I can be that destruction to whatever barrier you're covering yourself in."
He felt a jolt of something terrifyingly real pierce his chest.
"A booth is open," he muttered, completely ignoring your words as he motioned his head towards an empty vinyl seat. "You're wearing heels, it must hurt. C'mon."
You followed him to the space of the bar just sitting under the second story, a leak of the strobing lights just barely staining the wood. He waited until you sat down to slide in after you, keeping a respectful space to protect himself.
You moved closer to him, close enough your side was brushing against his.
You took a small sip from the glass, lips suggestively curling around the crystal as you felt his gaze spike into you. The corner of your vision, you saw him shake his head before also taking a small sip from his own.
You kept sipping until your mind went dizzy. The bartender supplied you with more and more without even adding to your bill.
Jungkook's drink stayed untouched, just one tiny sip, evidence that it was once swallowed. He was still like a perfect statue carved from gemstone. He sat with his shoulders squared, his gaze fixed on a point just above the crowd.
You shifted, the silk of your dress whispering against the seat as you leaned fully into his side. Your shoulder pressed fully against his bicep and you felt him slightly flinch.
You felt thrilled, heavy, dizzy, perfect from the way you noticed you were the only thing he couldn't seem to look away from.
He kept on reaching into his pocket, only to sigh, and grab his glass again. You the action counted six consecutive times.
"Months, baby," you whined, your chest tight as you stroked your hand on the soft skin of his cheek. "Months of me begging to be under your attention, to feel your hands. You're still so closed off. Why? I saw you smile at your phone once. I saw you laughing with some boy. It has to be exhausting, Jungkook. Being so controlled.."
Jungkook let out a low, sharp exhale. His hand twitched, as if another thought of reaching into his pocket sparked his mind again. But his hands kept in place, both gripping the glass. "You have no idea what I'm controlling."
"But you're just so so cute!" You giggled softly, reaching out to squish his cheeks. His breath hitched, his hands reaching out quickly to hold your wrists, almost painfully, to keep your reach away from him. "How come the only man I want is backing away from me, huh?"
"Don't," he snapped, his tone sounding more like a warning than a plea.
"Don't what?" You teased, your voice turning needy. You felt the room tilting, your vision narrowing until the only focus was his face.
You leaned closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.
"Don't touch you? Don't look at you? Don't make you feel things youre not supposed to?"
The internal battle happening in him was visible in the way his jaw worked, the way his knuckles were bloodless around the glass. He was simply drowning in the restraint and you were holding him under, fascinated by the way he was struggling to breathe.
"You're drunk," he deadpanned before turning to the bartender, who had his eyes on you as he began to fill up your glass again. "That's enough, bastard. She's clearly had enough."
You nuzzled into his neck, the scent of your skin making the ruined man to let out a harsh and broken noise. A mix of a groan and a curse.
"I just want you to fuck me," you pleaded, your voice cracking as one hand slid across the fabric clinging onto his chest. You felt his muscles tense under your touch and how his groan vibrated onto your skin. "So hard. To tie me up just like how i've dreamt about."
Jungkook knew he was screwed the moment a hard, heating throb pained his groin.
"Enough, Y/n," he snapped, his hand returning to his pocket. "Please. Fuck. I should've known this would be a bad idea."
"All I think about is you," you whimpered, digging your fingers into his shirt. "You're a stranger that has completely flooded my mind. Why can't it just be one night? Just one time and I promise I'll stop following you around. I will stop thinking of you."
"We both know you won't stop."
"Okay, so? You caught me," you made a sweet noise, a giggle mix with a cheer, something that sounded like music to his ears. "Why can't you just give in? Why can't one, singular night break that barrier in you?"
"Because Y/n!" He snapped, pulling you away from his body until you felt coldness wash through your skin again. You frowned. "It's not as easy as you think it is, okay? I have someone I need to keep and the more I see your eyes, the more I know it won't just feel like one night. I wouldn't be able to let you go, and I have to. I really fucking need to.”
"What?" Your face drained of color. "D-do you have a girlfriend?" Everything inside Jungkook turned to flames when he heard your voice crack.
It seemed to stiffen every single bone in his body. The raw vulnerability in your voice hit him harder than any bullet ever had.
He had been sent here to end you, and instead, he was standing in the middle of a crowded, strobed room, trying to keep his own heart from breaking.
"No," he rasped, his voice sounding completely broken. "No, Y/n. It's not... it's not like that."
But the explanation died on his tongue.
How could he tell you? How could he tell you that you were a target, a liability in a life you simply were trying to exist causally in?
How could he tell you that the man who had ordered your death was the same man who held the life of the only person he truly cared about in the palm of his hand?
You looked at him, your eyes shimmering with a mixture of betrayal and confusion, and he couldn't stand the sight of it.
He couldn't be the man who made you feel like you were nothing more than a background character in a life he couldn't even stand being in.
"You're making a mistake," he muttered, turning his back on you and heading straight for the exit.
You raced after him without thinking.
You shoved past a group of laughing teens, the heavy music fading as you burst through the club's emergency exit into the cool air of the alleyway.
The silence of the night was painful.
Rain was beginning to fall, a misty drop that turned the city lights into blurred smears of color.
Jungkook was standing ten paces ahead, staring deathly at the road ahead.
"Stop!" you cried, your voice catching in the damp air.
You ran toward him, your heels clicking sharply with every stumble and struggle.
"Stop walking away from me! If I'm such a complication then finish it! Tell me to leave! Tell me you hate me!"
He spun around and closed the distance between you in two long strides, his hand shooting out to grab your upper arms. It was painful, but his grip was desperate.
"I don't hate you," he growled. His face was inches from yours, his dark eyes searching your features. "God help me, Y/n, I don't hate you. And that's why I need you to get in a car, go home, and lock your door. I need you to stay as far away from me as you possibly can."
"Why?" you demanded, tears finally spilling over, hot and stinging. "Why does it matter?"
"Because I'm not a good man.I'm a dead man walking, Y/n. If you keep looking at me like that, if you keep digging into the dark, you're going to die."
You stared at him, your breath hitching.
"Go home, Y/n," he snapped.
He stepped back, looking like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the wind to decide his fate.
"If you see me again," he said, his voice sounding painfully flat again, "don't come close. For your own sake... stay in your life."
He turned and disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway, leaving you standing there in the rain, all trembling and breathless.
Jungkook's voice broke as he stared down at the soft, resting face of his friend.
His hands were wrapped around Hoseok's warm hand, chasing for that faint life in them that he struggled to find these days.
"What do I do?" He cried, holding his hand against his tears, watching helplessly as they dripped down Hoseok's wrist, sliding down the veins in his arm. "You'd have a solution. I knew you would. C'mon, you haven't opened your eyes in two days. I need you to, please."
A nurse walked into the room, a faint smile on her lips. "Hey, are you Mr Jung's family?"
She took a small breath in, taking a painful note of the way Jungkook's grip tightened around Hoseok's wrist. He didn't turn back to look at her, just kept his attention towards the weakening boy lying ahead of him.
A cold lie and they both knew it.
"Does he have any other family members? A real, blood related one?"
Jungkook's breath slightly hitched. "No."
She sighed, hooking her clipboard under her arm as her eyes flickered in a small glisten. It was pity. It was all Jungkook received here. No help. No grounding.
"Well... Mr Jung is staying stable, he's breathing properly, but he still needs some work. Don't let his long periods of rest worry you too much. His body was just so exhausted and stuck on healing so hard that it craves a long rest. There won't be anything to worry about, sir."
"Oh," he exhaled, sharply, so sharp in pained his heart behind his ribs. "T-That's good. I... why did your words sound heavy?"
Jungkook turned to face her, dropping Hoseok's hand into his. He watched, his heart beating excessively as her face dropped into worry. Her eyebrows drooped and a small sigh coming from her punched him exactly in the face.
"The medical bills... they're mounting and the insurance approval is still pending. If we don't see a payment by the end of the week, we'll have to discuss moving him to a state facility."
His jaw tightened. He remembered the envelope Mr Choi gave him just a couple days ago, sitting untouched in his night stand.
"I'll take of it," he said sharply then sighed. "Sorry."
She didn't respond and he sat up, not looking at the bed as he walked out. He knew if he looked at Hoseok one more time tonight, he might as well just snap. He stepped out into the hallway, silence ringing in his ears as he let out a rough sigh.
He reached the stairwell, pulling his hood over his head as the slam of the heavy doors echoed shut behind him.
He pulled out the photo Choi gave him from his pocket and stared at you.
It's your fault. You shouldn't have smelt and looked so good. You shouldn't have been attached to a man who belonged in a grave.
He fell in love with you ever since laying eyes on you.
He needs Hoseok breathing properly.
He needs to feel his lips on your skin.
He needs to laugh with Hoseok until the sun rose up.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into the empty stairwell, though he wasnt sure if he was apologizing to the girl in the photo or the man dying in the room behind him.
His hands could barely wrap around his knife properly. They trembled so hard his skin almost made contact to the sharp blade. He knew he needed to get it done. This isn't his first time killing someone. Just watch the color drain from your face and everything will be (not) okay.
He pulled his gloves over his hands, his heart beating so hard he choked into the dense, stale night air.
He slipped past the cameras and guards with ease although his breathing was loud and unstable. He moved with a fluidity that was purely muscle memory- a dark ghost- but his mind was fracturing. He simply was not well and he knew it would be a matter of time before he goes completely, utterly insane.
It physically pained him as he pulled himself up onto your roof.
He reached the skylight window that felt cold beneath his gloved palms. He didn't need to force the lock. His tools were already out, his hands working with a terrifying precision his heart refused to match.
He dropped into your room, his shoes making no sound as they hit the plush carpet.
The space smelt exactly like you.
His lungs came in shallow hitches, his knife glistening under the moonlight as he softly turned the lock on your door.
Your humming came-much to his agony- from your bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, peaking out a line of warm lighting to the darkness of your bedroom.
The sound of bristles brushing gently through your silky, soft hair harmonized with your humming. You were singing a song he's never heard before but he knew if he were to hear it ever again, it would send him into a state of pure, numb suffering.
He felt angry, sick, a terror that was supposed to feel like his other missions- immediate, numb, a coldness swallowing his brain until the hunt was over.
With a deep, silent breath, he gently pushed the door open.
You were near the mirror, eyes luckily lowered. Your hair brush now sat on the counter while you were busy applying a vanilla lotion to the length of your legs. You were wrapped in a pink towel, water still dripping around your almost exposed body. Jungkook would've choked if he weren't to stay deathly silent.
His footsteps were light, years of experience piling down on him.
His vision splotched a burning, white flash of dread as his hands quickly slapped over your mouth. His other hand held the knife up to your throat, his hand trembling as the blade sat just mere centimeters away from your skin.
Your wide eyes, glistening in terror, met his in the mirror.
He watched as they quickly flashed into hurt.
HIs hand pressed down harder onto your mouth. You weren't screaming for help or begging him to release you, what came instead was soft pleas of his name absorbing into the black of his glove.
"Close your eyes, make this easier for me," he rasped, his grip on you staying deathly firm although his insides felt weak. Vulnerable.
Your hands shot out to grip at his wrists. Just one movement of the blade and your throat would slice. You'd bleed to death. You'd go still.
You'd die whimpering his name.
"Jungkook," you sobbed into his glove, trembling harder than he was. If you were to thrash, to move, his blade would easily pierce you open. "W-Why? What a-are you doing?"
Staring back into your eyes made every logic inside him disintegrate.
The blade that was carved so sharply to tear apart stone, now buckled in his hand, completely mocking him.
Jungkook let out a choked sound that hadn't exactly matched a sob. With a sudden motion, he pushed you free onto the counter and threw his knife so hard against the walls it clattered.
The clatter sounded way too close to the final nail hammering shut his coffin of trapped pain.
You were breathing heavily, sobbing hard on the counter as you pushed yourself upright with weak, desperate arms. You felt hurt. Not because he shoved you or how hard his grip was, but because of what type of man you had fallen for.
"Why did you have to fucking do this!?" He shouted, the veins popping out from his sweating temples. He looked completely ruined. He looked like he was falling apart in your own bedroom. "Why couldn't you make this easier for me? Why do you have to be so fucking..."
Your knees were so weak you had fallen to the cold tiles. You were staring up at him, tears flowing openly as you watched him grip his hair as if that could keep his mental together for one last, final time.
He looked back at you, through the mess of his hair, the darkness of his gaze shifting into murderous to terrifyingly shallow.
His chest was heaving so hard you thought he might pass out.
"I'm so..fuck! Im so fucked!" He shouted before sharply turning around, his movements making you flinch. He began to bolt out of your bathroom and something in you- something so twisted- had forced you up onto your knees until you were chasing after him.
"Wait," you pleaded, breathing heavily as you reached out to grab his arm before he could leave your bedroom.
Hell, you might as-well be fucked inside too.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" He spun back around, his eyes blazing unstably. "Why can't you be normal? Why can't you push me away like everyone else?"
"Jungkook," you tightened the curl of your fingers around his bicep, your legs trembling so hard you could barely hold yourself up. "Please don't leave me again."
"You're unwell, don't you fucking now that! Let go of me! Now!"
"Baby," you pleaded, every ounce of basic logic flooding out of you. "Aren't you unwell too? We're perfect for eachother. Please, I've seen the real you, on your phone. That cute smile. Everything will be okay."
"No!" He said harshly, his face turning red with agitation. "I can't save Hoseok if I don't kill you. And I can't kill you. So I have nothing left. Do you hear me!? Nothing!"
"Don't you fucking call me that." He snapped.
Your words choked into strained gasps when his hand came harshly around your throat. Anger swallowed his features as he pushed you back onto the bed, crawling his body on top of yours. Oxygen was still available much to your luck, but the pressure he applied was enough to have you choke and cry.
"You're ruining me," he sneered, his thigh pulling up to part between your legs. He applied a harsh, pleasurable pressure there until you gasped. "What's in you? Why are you so hard to resist? Why are you doing this to me?"
He interrupted you by slamming his lips down to yours.
Your world did a full spin by the taste of him against you. A lingering of smoke and cinnamon, a taste that you didn't know you could reach outside the depths of your dreams.
He groaned into your mouth, the noise mixing completely with your whimper as your arms wrapped around the back of his neck with a trembly precision. His mouth moved hard, a painful glide of his tongue to get the full taste of you to press down on his tastebuds.
He removed his hand from your throat to part your mouth open, his grip hard as he stroked his tongue into your mouth. He licked around your flesh, giving a swirl so perfect electricity had shot down harshly into your core. Your heads moved in sync as he explored every part of your mouth, absorbing the taste of your mint toothpaste and just you.
He pulled back enough to have the both of you gasping for air, breaths tangling together in a mixture of heat. A line of saliva snapped between your lips, dripping onto your chin as he removed himself from your body and pulling you up until you were sitting still ahead of him standing, his knees touching the edge of the bed.
"You wanted to fuck me so bad? Shove your fingers into your sweet cunt thinking its me?" He rasped, his hand returning back to your throat. When no words left you, only a breathless moan, he chuckled. "What? You can't talk now, princess? You've been on your knees like a dirty whore and when I finally get my hands on you— you're quiet?"
"I-I'm sorry," you reached out, fingers curling around his wrists. Your nails dug into his skin, a hope burning in your mind that he'd let you free. But deep down, somewhere so thick at the depths of your tightening core— your body screamed at you to push his hands harder against you.
"I-Im s-sorry," he mocked, pulling one hand away to give one, rough squeeze to your breast, so hard he dug his fingers into the soft flesh. You cried at the pain, a lingering sting heightening your senses. "What did you think was going to happen when you played with me, hm? Are you so fucking pathetic that you thought i'd always push you away?"
You shook your head, a whimper falling from your lips while he just laughed in your face, his breath hitting your nose that it made your skin tingle. He took a note of how flushed your skin looked and how you seemed to discreetly move your body closer to his hands.
He removed his final hand from your throat, a sharp gasp of air coming from your end while he tangled the fabric of your towel around his fingers. He didn't give a warning nor did he ask, he just pulled so roughly a ripping noise had echoed off the walls until you felt the cold air bite into your skin.
You breathed, instinctively reaching out to cover your chest, but what came instead was his strong grip roughly pinning your arms to the bed.
"You're asking to get tied up, aren't you?" He growled, giving your arms a rough squeeze before moving his hands over to cup your breasts. "You dare move and i'll keep you strangled. I'll fuck you just like you asked me to, so rough that you're going to be crying after every single thrust. I'll have you wishing you never dared to speak that pretty mouth with such dirty words around me."
The swell of your breast bounced upon the force, the peaks of your nipples hard and tall, already responsive to the way his calloused hands felt against your skin.
He cupped both of your breasts, his thumb out to apply a pressure to the bud. Your head fell back with a slight gasp, your back arching into his hands that were quick to start threading and pulling. Your skin burned, already turning pink under the large of his palm. His hands were so large on your chest, a major size difference that had a low curse slipping out from under his clenched jaw.
With every single movement of his hand —the drag of his skin against yours— a shockwave of pure, hot arousal shook through your thighs. You just started and you already felt the slick drench an absolute ruin of your thighs. That no matter how rough he was on you, it had your lips parting in a need that it had your fingers trembling around the sheets where they stayed clenched.
His thumbs reached out, twirling around your bud, pulling roughly, before smoothing back out with his finger pads. You moaned out his name, unable to stop it from parting— the sound only just driving him to pinch you now, hard and perfect.
"I bet you've dreamt about this, hm?" He pulled one hand back just to hold the weight of your breast under his palm. The feel seemed to make his eyes widen in pure delight. "Me toying with you just as you wished. A slut for me even with such a pretty face, just how easy could I have you get on your knees for me?"
'Easy' , you wanted to respond, but you simply were completely wordless. You were breathing heavily, yes, but it was as if every single tug at your nipple was connected to your vocal cords. As if he ruined your vocal cords just as much as he ruined your breast.
"I don't even have my mouth on you yet, baby," he rasped, slightly adjusting his stance with a low groan.
Only then did you realize the hard print straining behind his jeans. His cock was covered and yet it was so thick and hard, you could see it twitch after every moan you cried. It was so perfect it had your hands lifting off the sheets.
Only just one of his hands trapped your wrists.
The immediate disappearance had your breast swollen and ruined, stinging so hard a wince came out of you. It grabbed ahold of your pulse and you could feel the throb thunder roughly all throughout you.
Meanwhile, his hand over your wrists were deathly. It had you tugging at him, your circulation begging to be healed— but all you got in return was a low chuckle.
"I told you—no moving your arms, right?”
"I know you weren't," he simply cut you off, voice suffocatingly straight. "Anyone with a brain knows to obey me."
Your body replied with a shudder, one that only just soaked the place between your thighs embarrassingly more. Your core was begging to feel something with the same fierce your heart felt in your chest.
He let go of your wrists, only to order: "Grab my cigarette and lighter."
You nodded slightly, your fingers trembling from the intensity of everything alone. You reached into his jeans, the heat radiating off of him as yours fingers wrapped around a box and cold lighter.
Once you pulled the objects out, he ordered, "Light me one, place it in my mouth."
"Okay," you whimpered, fingers already working to fumble on the top of his obsidian lighter. The flame ignited the edge of his cigarette, giving it a deep red that lit the space between the two of you.
He leaned down,his lips parting as the hotness of his breath hitting your swollen mouth. You placed the stick between his lips and he leaned back, pulling it out to huff a cloud of smoke out, the thickness curling around his neck.
"Hold it up to my lips," he ordered. "Keep your other pretty hand on the bed."
You placed the stick between your fingers, hand held up near his mouth while the other curled painfully into the sheets, your knuckles white. He leaned in again, exhaling onto the flushed skin on your face.
His hand moved from your breast and to your thigh. You moaned, hand holding the stick giving an unbeatable jolt. His fingers bruised down your inner thigh, rough pads of his fingertips dragging across the sensitive skin until they hovered just shy of your soaked cunt.
The pressure was possessive, marking you in red streaks that would bloom into bruises by morning. The idea only just sent fresh pulses of heat straight to your core.
You could could feel the sick evidence of your arousal coat the tops of your thighs, a humiliating thing for you but a sight he groaned over.
His cigarette glowed inches from your face as he took another slow drag, smoke fuming while his free hand inched higher, knuckles brushing the outer lips of your pussy without parting them.
"Keep that hand steady," he murmured, exhaling another cloud that stung your watering eyes. Your fingers trembled around the cigarette , ember flaring as you held it obediently to his mouth again.
He leaned in, lips brushing your knuckles this time, heat of his breath mixing with the tobacco. Meanwhile his other hand spread you open, two thick fingers sliding through your wetness. He didn't push inside yet, much to your dismay, but stroked the swollen part of you. His fingers gathered your arousal and smeared them deliberately over your clit. His smears were in lazy circles that made your hips twitch despite the earlier order to stay still.
His fingers pressed firmer now, tips circling your entrance, testing the hard clench. You could hear how wet you were against his fingers, the sounds fueling your pussy to throb harder. Clenching on nothing as if begging to be filled.
Your nipples still throbbed from his earlier abuse but they tightened in the air, ruined peaks aching for more contact even as your focus narrowed to the slow exploration between your legs.
His thumb replaced his fingers on your clit, rubbing just hard enough to have your hips jolting against his hand.
A broken whimper tore from your throat.
"Look at your greedy little cunt," he said, words vibrating through the smoke. "Dripping all over my hand and I haven't even fucked you yet."
Two fingers finally pushed in, sinking knuckle deep with a single thrust. His fingers stretched you alone painfully, almost burning.
Your thighs quivered on either side of his wrist as you felt every ridge of his fingers buried inside.
"Keep your hand on the sheets, cigarette near my mouth," he ordered before pulling his fingers out of you completely. Without warning, he slammed them back in just as he gave a soft curl, the action completely lifting your highs higher into his hand with pure pleasure.
Your cheeks were on fire, cold sweat dripping down your back as he left a relentless rhythm ruining inside of you. The sounds of your wetness plus your whimpers filled the room and he groaned, head falling back just enough to bob the bone deep in his throat.
"God, my life is so fucked," he let out a broken sob but he continued to pump himself inside of you. His thumb reached out to continue a slow roll over the swell of your cunt, a hard pressure that had heat building up between your legs and burning your cheeks.
Your fingers tightened around the bedsheets. the material stretching while the cigarette you held was inches away from crushing completely.
"Jungkook," you cried out, your body now gliding absentmindedly into his fingers. Your cheeks felt like they were getting pulled on. Your cunt was fluttering relentlessly. "I think I will-"
He pulled out before you could finish your sentence, arousal completely dripping down his veins.
"Selfish bitch," he scolded, wet hands reaching out to fumble with his belt sat wonky on his hips. "Ruining my fucking life while looking like a pretty temptation. And now you're trying to come before me? Burn that cigarette out."
You watched him tear at his zipper, mouth feeling like an ocean as you burned the cigarette out on a nearby porcelain ring holder on your nightstand. He shoved his jeans and boxers down, cock springing free in a thick, throbbing, yet beautiful mess.
He wrapped his fist around his length, thumb smearing precum down his veins as his cock twitched in his own hold.His other hand held firmly at your hip, pulling you harder down to him until your core was met directly to his abdomen, legs wrapping around his torso.
He gave himself two, long strokes before lining his head to your entrance. Throbbing thickness met your cunt and you cried out, nails digging into the sheets with a wave of pure ecstasy although nothing started yet.
"You can move your hands now, scratch at my back if you really need to."
A moan of relief sung between the two of you as you reached out to wrap around his hot torso, fingers desperately clawing at his rough skin resting just under the fabric. Nails clawing down his spine, feeling the hard planes of muscle shift after every scrape.
He rolled his head through your folds once, gathering your slickness before pushing himself in. The burning stretch had you screaming, pulling at his body until you had your face buried in his chest, your wet gasps muffled by him.
Your heels pushed into his back, helping him bury himself into you, every vein and thick inch dragging inside your clenching walls until he was buried roughly to the hilt. You could feel his head bruise the deepest parts in you, places you've always dreamt to feel him at, the reality slapping you right on the face.
You sobbed from the pain into him but the more he sat still and the more you fluttered around him, the faster that pain morphed into a quick satisfaction. He sat still until you were breathing normally again, letting you feel every throb and pulse of his dick inside your stretched cunt.
"Fuck, thats it," he snapped, voice strained. He rolled his hips in the smallest circle, grinding that thick head against your deepest spot without pulling out. You clawed at him for more friction and his hand came down to hold your hip in place, as he began to withdraw inch after inch.
He almost exited your entirely before slamming back in, your body jolting harshly in his hold as you let out a scream into him. Slap of skin against skin echoed wet. He set a fast, punishing rhythm, each thrust deep.
Sweat beaded at his spine where your nails scratched him unapologetically, air between your bodies growing thick with tobacco.
He leaned down to bite at your shoulder, teeth sinking in just enough to mark. The jolt of it made your cunt clamp down hard around his ruthless cock.
"Is this what you wanted?" He growled against your skin, keeping his slams in you painful yet perfect for desires. "What you were begging for like a dirty slut while making my life miserable?"
"M'sorry," you said breathlessly into his heat, your head feeling like it was completely spinning so hard your vision was blurred with white. "It.. feels good. Please don't stop, Jungkook.”
"It's daddy, know your place," he sneered, pulling you down rougher around him until you were met at his hips. "I had a whole life before you were breathing. Don't call me that bullshit while I feel you completely hugging and milking my cock."
"Daddy," You cried out, quickly fixing your mistake. Your thighs trembled around his waist, every slap sending a wave of slick down his buried length. "You're better than I thought," a gasp for air. "I've needed this, needed you."
"Mhm? Well I didn't need anything until I saw your face," his voice dark as he kept fucking into you with those relentless, grinding strokes. "Yeah, that's my good girl. Take it all. Let me feel this greedy cunt flutter."
You moaned, an entire hot wave crashing through your veins. You could feel the build up in your core, a tight knot that begged to tug at until its release.
"I can't hold it," you said in a desperate plea, your lips bunching into his skin. "I need to finish. Please."
He responded with a growl, his pace quickening impossibly harder until you could barely take it any longer. Tears stained your cheeks, soaking his shirt and intoxicating your entire mind.
"Take it," he ordered. "Clench around this, baby. Let me feel you come around me."
Your hips snapped up after hearing his words, body trembling around him as you felt everything in you release. You were shaking, eyes rolling back in pure pleasure as he fucked you through it, rough groans escaping him with every centimeter of fluids dripping around his cock.
Almost immediately after he pulled out with a plop, cock slamming up to his stomach greedily. It twitched like crazy, begging for a release, and when he gave just one stroke- his insides completely coated his hand.
Before he could run away again, you pulled him down until he was slump against your frame. Your breaths mangled together heavily, gazing into each other's glistening eyes as you both held eachother in the dark.
You giggled, a sound of pure happiness as you muffled your face into the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around his body. And although you felt the stickiness paint inside your thighs, you let yourself fall into slumber against him.
When you woke up again, your bed was empty.
Flaring into full panic, you quickly jumped out of your covers- only to stop dead in your tracks when you spotted Jungkook in your bathroom.
His cheeks were soaked with tears.
He stood hunched over your sink, his phone pressed lightly to his ear, free hand gripping the countertop until he knuckles were pale. He didn't notice you standing naked in the doorway, paralyzed by the unfiltered grief crashing through him.
"I know," he choked out. "I know the deadline, Choi. Im just... I need more time. Please. Don't touch him. If you touch him, you loose the leverage and your family. You know I'll walk away from the order the second he's gone."
You held your breath, your heart hammering. His words hung heavy in the air and you realized he wasn't just struggling with a friend- he was holding a life he was forced to sacrifice because of you.
Because of his failure to glide the knife.
Jungkook wiped his face with his hand. a shuddering gasps escaping him. "Fine. Just keep him breathing for a bit longer. I'll... I'll give you the money. I'll have it by tonight."
He hung up, silence following into the room all thick and suffocating. He stared into the mirror, not seeing a him, but a man cornered by a beast.
"I'll pay for him," you said without even thinking.”
Jungkook turned, his eyes a widened beauty of tears. "Go back to bed. Everything is fine."
"No," you replied and before he could blink, you were already racing to throw a bundle of clothes over your exposed body. You didn't think as you reached for your phone, fingers flying across your screen.
You bypassed to your fathers secretary, going directly to the head of the private medical wing your father owned.
"I need a transer, Hoseok..." you looked at Jungkook, waiting for his help. 'Jung' he said softly and you hummed. "Hoseok Jung, he's at the Woodmarry Hospital. Please move him to the estates private medical wing- the secure one. Make sure no one outside of Jungkook Jeon and the specialized doctors go anywhere near him or it will be treated as a hostile invasion. Add his funds to my account, all of it."
"What are you doing?' Jungkook asked once you hung up, his gaze darting all around your face. You figured he was searching to see if all of this was a joke. "I don't.."
"I bought his life back," you whispered. "Hoseok is already being moved to my family's privte estate. By now, the best care in the country is surrounding him. He's unreachable, Jungkook. He's safe."
"You said it yourself, Jungkook." You replied, tilting your chin to look up at him as you reached out to wrap your arms around his neck. "I'm unwell for you. I need you. I will do anything to have you as mine."
"You're in danger," he replied, fingers tightening around your waist. "Someone's trying to kill you-"
"I guess I need a bodyguard then," you smirked, moving your hands away from his neck to slide down his biceps. "Looks like I need a strong, experienced man to protect me.."
He let out a ragged groan his hands pulling you right up against him with violence that was pure relief. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breath hot and damp, and for the first time- you saw his shoulders finally drop.
He was simply a broken sniper and slowly in your arms, he was finally starting to heal.
