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Strong Pheromones [7] Worse than pain

Ω — pairing: Jungkook x reader Ω — genre: aboverse!au, smut, dom!jk x sub!reader, alpha!jungkook, female reader, fluff, spy!reader, CEO! Jungkook Ω — words: 1.9k Ω — rating: +18 M Ω — warnings: some blood, emotional manipulation within a nightmare context, grief, nightmares Ω — notes: I am sooo behind the schedule. I fear I just ended up listening to arirang at least thrice a day... Whose country is not on the list for the tour, and who doesn't even have money even if it was?....... yeh life goes on

You Jung siblings have been working as spies for as long as you could remember. All was going well, until on your 100th mission, you accidentally encounter the path of the strongest alpha you ever met, Jeon Jungkook.

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"So to sum up--"

I was prepared for a scolding, hitting even... everything but this. I'd much rather have a pissed off Suga than this too calm one. If there was something I knew about him, it was the fact that he rarely got mad.

And this right here?

An Alpha.

The only Alpha I've ever placed in high respect.

Even with my eyes glued to the floor, I could feel his eyes burning through my skull, as if dissecting my every being and soul.

For as long as I can remember, Suga has been there for the two of us—especially me since I joined a bit later than my brother. He didn't talk much, but he was caring and attentive even to little details. And even when he manifested as an Alpha, my view of him didn't change. Quite the opposite, I liked knowing he was different from all those typical self-centered Alphas. The only time I've ever seen him angry and act like a real Alpha was the day I nearly died on that mission and met Jin.

The moment I appeared with all those bandages and blood on my clothes, I saw the way his posture tensed. If not for Hobi and I who stopped him, he'd have ravaged the entire basement (he nearly killed Jin, thinking he was the one who had put me in that state—and the latter who got scared of him, made sure to never be in his bad side ever since). All in all, I felt warm at his kindness. He was like a second family to me.

But now said family is standing in front of me, arms crossed and expression unreadable, making shivers go up my spine.

I'd rather have him get all full Alpha mode and destroy something. Anything.

"--you dragged an innocent in a mission that you decided yourself to take part in, infiltrated the Jeons and almost got your cover exposed." The sigh that left his lips told more than his words.

"My cover didn't get exposed... Nobody knew us..." My lips formed a small pout when I dared to look up—just to see Suga unimpressed (and probably disappointed at me).

After a long silence, he took a seat on the sofa next to me. "What's happening, SJ? This is not like you..."

I blinked in confusion, eyebrows furrowing. But then no sound escaped my mouth when I opened it. Looking at his eyes, I found them already staring at me, a worried frown marring his face. I immediately looked away, feeling his stare somewhat... intimidating.

"I know you, and I know you want to prove yourself." He said, making me swallow. "But this never happened. You never take up on getting revenge, especially V since you've been bickering for, well, forever."

That much was right, I couldn't deny. I've never taken V's antics this far.

But I couldn't just stay still. I know it was against spies' code, and if not for Suga for covering me, I'd be punished again—this time, not a light punishment. My body and mind just synched and formed an alliance.

"Don't tell me your body and mind formed an alliance." He deadpanned, making me whip my head toward him in shock. A small smile formed on his lips upon seeing my reaction. "Your face says it all."

Before I could say anything—although I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to utter any word—the door opened and in entered two pairs of familiar eyes. One avoiding my burning eyes, while the other enthusiastically waving his hand.

"Helloooo!" Jin grinned, approaching us but Hobi just crossed his arms, standing near the door. A slight pang of guilt formed in my chest. He's not saying anything, and he refuses to look me in the eyes. That must mean he's either angry at me or blaming me.

At least him being here means he's picking me up to go home. With a half smile thrown at Yoongi, I stood up to leave, passing by an half-confused half-offended Jin at being ignored.

The ride home was silent. Uncomfortable and heavy. It didn't help that there was no background music to help alleviate the atmosphere. And by the time the car was parked in the garage and I slipped off my shoes at the entrance, Hobi was already up the stairs. Seconds after the deafening silence, the sound of a door closing echoes in the house.

Sighing in defeat, I went upstairs to shower and changed into my pajamas. Before going into my bed, my steps led me to my brother's bedroom as if it was automatic. Knocking on the door softly, I waited with bated breath for a sound. But nothing came.

Swallowing thickly, I finally spoke. "Hoba... Are you asleep?" Silence. "I—I just... Good night..." My words were barely a whisper. Whether he heard me or not, I knew I deserved this cold treatment.

Going back to my room, I closed the lights and went into my warm covers, closing my eyes and willing my heart to not break.

That was the first time he didn't kiss me goodnight.

"Sweety, go wake up your brother."

My hands trembled, breath labored and I was sure even my eyes were betraying. However, no matter how many times I pinched myself, the scene was the same.

Soft eyes greeted me, a small smile on her face as she took my hand. I flinched.

Even her hand was warm.

"...Mom..." I couldn't blink my eyes, afraid this dream or whatever it was would vanish once I did. Only when she touched my cheeks to wipe them did I realize I was crying.

"Are... Are you real?" My hands automatically gripped hers, but she frowned.

"Did you have a bad dream again?" She sighed, making me sit on the chair. "Hobi should really stop making you watch those horror movies at night."

"What are you talking about? She's the one who wanted to watch them!"

My head whipped to the side so fast I heard a crack, but that was the least of my concern. Because walking down the stairs was Hobi, the pain in my chest dulled at the sight of his pout. He skipped the last pair of stairs to jump, then ran to ruffle my hair in greeting before sitting up next to me.

Hobi reached a hand toward the content on the table, but was harshly tapped by a hand. "Ow."

"What did I say about manners?" Mom squinted her eyes at him, making Hobi squeak a 'sorry'.

"Are those strawberry jam bread and syrup?"

This time I blinked in bewilderement, not believing when my Father reached our table to grab the bread, and then being tapped by our mom.

"Ouch." Dad retracted his hand immediately massaging it.

"Like father like son, huh." Mom huffed with a smile, while Hobi and dad giggled.

The scene looked so domestic, so... natural. In the back of my mind, I knew it was a dream, but I pushed the thought away. What if it's not a dream? What if whatever life I had never existed and this one really was my current life? What if none of them died but it was just my imagination—

"Sweety?" Mom's voice pulled me out of my trance, my eyes flicking upward to see them all wearing all kinds of worried expression on their faces.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Mom asked again when I didn't say anything. I exhaled shakily.

I would never want to wake up from this dream.

"I'm... fine." A small smile slowly lifted from my lips. "More than fine."

All of them smiled, but then when I looked down at the table, there was nothing. Blinking hard, I was sure breakfast was—

"Are you happy?"

That voice gave me chills. I snapped my eyes up in horror as I saw my mother looking at me with disdain. In place of her usual lovely smile, her face was devoid of any emotion but anger. I stood up stumbling, her eyes glaring daggers at me, her face marred with red. Blood. All her face was painted red blood, soaking the collar of her flowery dress, leaking on the table and the floor. My voice got stuck in my throat, breath unevening. Everything becomes blurry.

"Are you happy?" She repeated coldly, approaching my trembling figure. "You killed us, and you are happy?"

"I—I... No... I didn't..." It feels like there is not enough air and I'm suffocating, my lungs burning from not having enough air to breathe. This is not happening. It's not my fault.

"It is your fault." Looking up, dread filled my entire body when I saw my father looking at me in disdain, also covered in blood. "Look at us. Look at what you did to us."

I wanted to scream, anything. But it felt like I couldn't find my voice, it felt like the space was getting narrower by the second. Before I knew it, they both stood in front of me while I looked at them from the bottom. Were they always this tall and intimidating? Were this room always this dark? What were we doing earlier? Where am I?

"Look at your brother. He doesn't love you anymore."

Hobi was looking at my small figure, a few feet away. I reached out my hand to him, but his body felt impossibly far. He turned and walked away. Hobi... Is it my fault? It's my fault...

Cold hands grabbed my arms from both sides. My eyes didn't leave the place where Hobi disappeared. I didn't even realize I was getting held in the arms by someone. I could feel the liquid soaking my head, dripping down my chin to my chest. My body felt numb, the kind of numb that you get used to when you shut down any emotion.

"You will come with mom and dad, right sweetie? You brother will be so happy without you." My mom purred in my ear, cradling my head while I shut my eyes.

I'm so tired.

I just want to rest.

"You want to rest? Don't worry, we are here now. We will never leave your side anymore..." My dad's voice trailed, getting smaller and smaller until I heard and felt nothing anymore.

Everything is dark. And cold. It doesn't feel good, but it feels right

Can I really rest? I'm so tired.

I just want to disappear.

Maybe they're right. Maybe if I didn't exist, everyone will be happy.

I know it's my fault.

I shouldn't have existed—

Cold water suddenly got splashed on me, and I gasped. Opening my eyes and sitting up to cough the water, I looked around in panic, my heart beating erratically fast. Shampoo. Soap. Bath bomb... Slowly but surely, my breathing evened. I realized I was in the bathroom.

Taking deep breathes to attempt to soothe the stuffiness, I clutched my chest and choked out a sob. For a moment, I couldn't think properly, my head dizzy even after minutes—which felt like hours. My head and heart hurt it felt like needles piercing inside me. I didn't think the act of breathing would be such a difficult task for me. I never once felt it would be this challenging one day—until now.

‎‎Inhaling deep once more, my heart rate finally slowed to its normal rhythm, albeit it took me a while to slow down.‎‎

Only the droplets of the water could be heard—in my surprise, my body jumped in the bathtub and water was splashed everywhere. Exhaling slowly, I closed my eyes and swallowed the last sob that threatened to come out. Then, I slowly rose up to open the cabinet to rummage inside. Covering myself was the last of my problem.‎‎

My eyes fell on the white bottle on the far bottom, tucked as if hidden from anyone, but easily found. Grabbing it to open the lid, I stared at the three white pills. Not wasting time, I swallowed one and exhaled a sigh of relief.‎‎

I've been using these medicines all my life, for as long as I could remember.

‎‎"It's bitter, right? But it alleviates the pain. You will feel better."‎‎

I used to think mom was right, but now I don't know anymore.

‎‎Because even though I'm not in pain anymore... I feel numb.‎‎

And it's worse than being in pain.‎‎

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Strong Pheromones [8] Boy

Ω — pairing: Jungkook x reader Ω — genre: aboverse!au, smut, dom!jk x sub!reader, alpha!jungkook, female reader, fluff, spy!reader, CEO! Jungkook, strangers to enemies, enemies to enemies, enemies to lovers Ω — words: 2.2k Ω — rating: sfw Ω — warnings: physical harm, agression, mention of pre-rut, mild language Ω — notes: Apologize for going MIA :')) I was dealing with personal problems, and also writer's block......yeh. Have you noticed I changed the cover? Yep, the name because I changed my name. Also TMI but it's my birthday in a few weeks/days hehe

| Teaser | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | ...

Growing up, I was always told I neither behaved nor resembled a girl.

Where long, dark, soft hair should have cascaded down my back, there were only unruly short locks that barely grazed my ears. Don't even get me started on dresses. I used to despise the very sight of one, let alone the thought of wearing one. There was always mud on me, caked into my hair, ground into my scraped knees and arms like a second skin I never asked for.

They called me muddy. Dirty and ugly. (How creative. Note my sarcasm)

Surprisingly, years later, I became the kind of woman men couldn't stop looking at. I don't remember the exact moment I decided that seductive makeup and sharp silhouettes suited me. It wasn't surprising though—I had to, for my job, for my current life. My tomboyish side never left; I simply learned to wear both skins with equal ease.

SJ was the woman who turned heads without trying, the one men wanted and couldn't have. But outside of the job, outside of that name and everything it carried?

I was just me.

And me, tonight, looked like this: a worn cap pulled low over a short wig, a black binder beneath a black shirt, red gloves, red converses, baggy sweatpants that pooled slightly at the ankles. Not showing off, just comfortable clothes and a slightly cold look on my face to pass as a boy.

I lived for these nights—the ones where the weight of being a spy loosened its grip just enough for me to breathe. I'd take my motorbike and disappear into the city's dark alleys, letting the wind carry off whatever had been sitting heavy on my chest.

Six months ago, I'd stumbled across a club on the city's outskirts, so well-hidden I'd bet even Hobi's hacking fingers would struggle to find it on a map. It had become my sanctuary of sorts. No A-grade mission where you put your life on the line. No asshole Alpha to look down on you. No stress of waitiing for tomorrow to come.

Being suspended for two weeks was its own particular brand of torture. Worse still, Hobi had been home for two days straight, which meant two days of being watched and fussed over, unable to sneak out without a lecture waiting on the other side. But he'd mentioned, almost offhandedly, that he wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning.

Tonight was mine.

Or so I thought.

The hand around my throat tightened.

I didn't gasp—I was too irritated for that. My eyes dragged upward slowly, fixing the man with a glare I reserved specifically for situations that had the audacity to ruin a perfectly good night off. His gaze stared back, cold and flat, yet burning underneath—the particular contradiction of a man no longer entirely in control of himself.

I recognized him immediately.

The cruise. The hallway. The expensive watch and the Omega on his arm, both wearing the same disheveled, lustful expression. He'd glanced at me briefly in interest, before registering my Beta scent and losing interest just as fast. I hadn't thought about him since.

(What was his name again?)

Wealth had apparently replaced whatever common sense he'd once possessed—I could tell by the Hublot gleaming on the wrist currently holding my throat hostage.

I'd been minding my own business, perched on a barstool, when some idiot knocked my drink. I'd let it go since it wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last anyway. But the moment I stepped outside to head home, I'd been grabbed and shoved against the nearest wall. I was so accustomed to feeling free on nights like these that I'd let my guard down entirely.

Rookie mistake.

Now said idiot was glowering at me as though I'd personally wronged his dead grandfather.

"Dude." I exhaled slowly, too tired to mask the exhaustion in my voice. Goosebumps crawled up my arms in cold revulsion despite my calm tone. "You're the one who spilled your drink on me, not the other way around. Look—I don't want a problem. Just let go, and we both walk away. Simple."

Was I wrong to think he would listen? Obviously.

He didn't just ignore them—he snarled, tightening his grip until breathing became a deliberate effort. I opened my mouth to try again, then stopped.

His posture was different.

I blinked slowly, actually looking at him this time. You wouldn't notice it from a distance, but up close he didn't look... right. He was still as arrogant as I remembered, but today there was something unraveling underneath it. His eyes looked feral, breathing uneven. His body radiated warmth, seeping through his fingers where they wrapped around my throat.

I closed my hand around his wrist.

It was too warm—probably warmer than what I thought.

Is that... normal?

Then almost instantly, my eyes widened.

I don't experience anything like it myself, but I've learned and seen enough to recognize the signs. The elevated temperature, the fraying aggression, the way his focus had sharpened, eyes dilated and void of any rationality.

Pre-rut.

And of all the people in this city tonight, he'd grabbed me.

A scoff made way out of my mouth. One sharp kick to his stomach, a precise twist of his wrist, and he folded with a grunt, knees hitting the ground. It might have been reckless to act in public, but I was in my boy persona—I'd take the risk. I was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home, but that didn't mean I'd stand here and be manhandled.

I crouched down to his level, meeting his snarling gaze evenly.

In this pre-rut state, he was still vulnerable—manageable. Once a full rut hit, that calculus would shift entirely, and no amount of training would fully compensate for the biology working against me.

"Listen here, you little dip ass Alpha shit." I snarled back at him.

A distant clatter of cans made me immediately whip around the sound in instinct.

That moment of inattention cause me to losen my focus. He wrenched free and disappeared into the dark mouth of a nearby alleyway at a pace that was almost impressive.

I stared after him.

So much for Alpha dominance.

I was still smoothing my collar when the club's entrance swung open behind me, spilling two figures and a ribbon of bass-heavy music into the night.

Then a hand appeared in my peripheral vision.

I looked at it. Then slowly up.

You have got to be kidding me.

Park Jimin stood there, most definitively less calm than the last time I saw. Hair disheveled, eyes blown wide, a fine crease of urgency between his brows. Even in a state of mild disarray, he was still unfairly put-together.

Those damn buttons are hanging for dear life—

"I—Sorry." He barely glanced at me, already scanning the alley's entrance with sharp eyes. "Did you see an Alpha come through here? White shirt, taller than me. He looked... out of it."

Before I could decide whether to respond, a loud shrill came from his pocket. He pulled out his phone with practiced reflex, stepped a few paces away, and answered.

I watched him for a moment, then stepped closer to his silhouette. Don't poke your nose into people's business unless you're a spy.

"Yeah?" A pause. His free hand pushed through his hair. "...What about Joon?"

Joon.

That name was familiar. Familiar in the vague, unhelpful way that names from closed missions sometimes were. I dismissed it for now. If it really were important, I would remember it anyway.

Jimin's shoulders loosened incrementally—relieved, it seemed. A few clipped responses later, he turned back around.

Shit. That was fast.

I was approximately two steps too close to being caught. Without missing a beat, I adjusted my trajectory, walking past him as though this had always been the direction I intended.

He blinked at the space I'd just occupied, a small frown creasing his perfectly sculpted brows.

Unbeknownst to him, he'd been asking himself how he hadn't sensed you sooner. Your steps were silent.

Three blocks and a turn later, I exhaled properly for the first time all evening.

What a small world.

I was mentally composing the fastest route back to my motorbike when the smell hit me.

Grilled meat, something sweet underneath it, paired with aromas of spices. My stomach growled. I'd been smelling it since the alley, apparently, and my body had simply been waiting for my brain to catch up.

Should I? I haven't eaten yet. But if I'm too late, Hobi could find out I sneaked out.

My body stood there, brain working up for a moment before I decided to eventually let my feet and stomach decide for me.

Life always has all kinds of surprises for you. Whether good or bad, it seemed the result is almost always the same. Unfortunately for me, life has been shitty for a while now.

And the other shitty thing for me is the ass sitting directly across from me, two tables over, glaring daggers into my skull while I pretended not to notice him.

I should have seen it coming, honestly. A night that began with a stranger's drink in my lap, escalated to being choked in an alleyway, and detoured through a nervous Park Jimin was always going to end like this. Of course it was. The universe had a sense of humor, and apparently, so did my punishment.

Even under the dim, flickering light of the food stall—barely enough to illuminate half his face—he looked stupidly, infuriatingly handsome. His hair, usually gelled back into that signature sleek perfection, had been left to its own devices tonight. It curled softly over his forehead, slightly overgrown, gleaming under the warm light. He was wearing loose grey sweatpants and a baggy green shirt. His arms were stretched across the table in front of him, veins tracing the backs of his hands, muscles shifting subtly every time he moved.

On a normal day, I would have met his gaze with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. But this was not a normal day.

Because I wasn't supposed to be outside.

He was squinting at me.

V was not stupid. Far from it. And that look in his eyes—that slow, dawning sense of familiarity—was more dangerous than open recognition.

And who knew you better than your friends or your family?

Your enemies.

"Thank you, young man." The food stall ajumma smiled warmly as she handed me my change, and I returned it with a quick bow before making my exit at a pace that was, technically speaking, not running.

Behind me, a chair scraped against the ground.

Crap.

Adrenaline detonated somewhere in my chest, firing down through my limbs and into my legs, and then I was running—feet slapping against the floor, weaving between the narrow gaps of the alleyways.

Footsteps rang out behind me. Keeping pace.

He recognized me. Of course he fucking recognized me.

I couldn't stop and confront him—that would be my ruin. But I couldn't let him catch me either. I dared a glance over my shoulder and immediately regretted it.

Two meters.

Two meters. The man had legs like a runway model and the stamina of someone who trained for a living, which—infuriatingly—he did. As an Alpha he was physically built beyond what my compact beta frame could easily outrun, and his strides were twice the length of mine.

That one glance cost me.

My foot caught the edge of a raised stone. I lurched, stumbled, caught myself—barely—but that half-second of recovery was all he needed.

A hand closed around the back of my collar.

The world lurched sideways. A shriek tore out of my throat before I could stop it, my legs swept out from under me and I landed flat on my backside on the pavement, pain shooting through.

"What the—"

I bit back the rest of it. Snapped my eyes down before my expression could betray me. A pair of slippers filled my vision, and I suppressed— barely—the urge to make a remark about his footwear choices.

Slowly, he crouched down to my level.

Fuck fuck fuck.

"You." His voice was low, unhurried, almost thoughtful. He tilted his head to peer at my face, which I was carefully, determinedly angling away. I could not look at him. I could not let him see my eyes. "...Here."

This is it. This is how I get a third punishment.

Something silver glinted in the moonlight between his fingers.

I stared.

The familiar gift from Hobi that never left my side, glittered, shaped like an acorn, dangled from his hand.

Numbly, I reached for it.

"Forgot your wallet." There was a smirk in his voice even if I refused to look at his face to confirm it. "Careful, there."

Then he stood, turned, and strolled back in the direction of the food stalls as though nothing had happened at all. No accusation. Not even the decency of an apology for tackling me to the ground.

I sat there for a moment.

Then let out a long, slow breath.

He didn't recognize me.

I patted the dust off my thighs and got to my feet, watching the direction he'd disappeared with a roll of my eyes.

Asshole didn't even say sorry.

| Teaser | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | ...