tee.

The next days you’re surviving on three hours of sleep a night- your hands shake badly enough that you nearly spill coffee down the front of your shirt twice before noon. In the morning you find yourself standing outside a classroom you’ve walked into a hundred times before while your brain completely refuses to remember why you’re there in the first place.

“You lost?”

The voice cuts through the thick fog inside your head just enough to make you blink.

Jungkook is standing a few feet away, one hand hooked around the strap of his backpack while he studies you with a faint frown.

“What?” The word leaves you automatically, genuinely confused.

Jungkook’s eyebrows pull together slightly. For a second he just looks at you, then his gaze shifts toward the classroom door.

“We’ve got English.”

Your brain struggles to catch up. English. Right.

You just stare at him and Jungkook stares back. Then something almost resigned crosses his face and he lets out a quiet sigh through his nose.

“Sit next to me,” he says. “I’ll take notes for both of us.” Another sigh leaves him before he closes the distance between you, gently taking hold of your wrist.

“C’mon, princess.” There’s no teasing in his words, no flirtation. Just… patience. The realization feels strangely unsettling.

You let him guide you into the classroom without protest, still feeling vaguely disconnected from your own body while Jungkook leads you toward the back row and drops into a chair. A second later he tugs lightly on your wrist again until you finally sit beside him.

The lecture starts and you remember almost none of it. The only thing you do remember is looking down halfway through class and realizing Jungkook’s notebook is twice as full as everyone else’s.

Because he’d actually been taking notes for both of you.

The botanical gardens are nearly empty by the time you arrive.

Evening has begun settling over the winding paths, painting everything in shades of amber and gold as sunlight filters through the trees in fractured ribbons of light, the kind of scenery people usually describe as peaceful. Couples wander lazily through the distant walkways. A few students occupy benches scattered throughout the gardens. Somewhere nearby, water trickles softly from a stone fountain.

It should feel calming, instead, every step makes your stomach twist tighter. Then you spot Levi.

He looks completely at ease sitting on one of the benches near the center path, one arm draped across the backrest as though he’s simply enjoying the evening rather than waiting for the person he’s been tormenting for weeks. The moment his eyes find yours, a smile spreads slowly across his face.

The kind of smile that makes something instinctive inside you recoil.

“There you are...” The words are spoken lightly, almost affectionately, and somehow that makes them worse.

You stop several feet away because you simply don’t want to sit next to him, not even be in his direct vicinity…

He simply leans back against the bench and looks at you the way someone might admire a painting they already own- the mere thought makes you nauseous.

For a few seconds neither of you speaks, so the silence stretches. Levi seems content to let it, he likes this; he simply likes making you stand there, likes watching you squirm and knowing exactly why you’re here. The realization settles unpleasantly in your stomach.

“Well?” he asks eventually. “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

“No.”

His smile widens. “Still got some fight left in you. That’s cute.”

Your jaw tightens. “I thought we could… talk.”

A laugh escapes him, low, amused. As though you’ve just said something truly entertaining. “Talk,” he repeats, stretching the word, „Sure.“

You hate him. You hate the way he manages to make every ordinary word sound filthy. Hate the way he looks at you and the fact that he knows you came anyway.

“Please, Levi…” you say before pride can stop you.

The change in his expression is immediate. “Oooh, there it is.” Your stomach drops. Levi slowly sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees while studying your face with unsettling concentration.

“I was wondering how long you’d hold out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” The amusement dancing in his eyes makes your skin crawl. “You’re finally desperate enough to say please.”

Heat floods your face- not ofembarrassment but because he’s enjoying this. Every second of it. Every ounce of your discomfort seems to delight him.

“I came because I want this to stop.”

Levi shoves his lower lip into a fake pout. “As if you’re the victim here.”

The words hit so hard that for a second you genuinely can’t respond. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. There.

That reaction. That was what he wanted.

“You know,” he continues casually, glancing toward the trees, “Marc used to talk about you all the time.”

The mention of Marc feels like someone driving a knife between your ribs. Levi notices immediately; predators always notice where the wound is.

“There-” his voice softens, almost fond. “You make the saddest face whenever I mention him.”

“Levi.”

“No, keep making that face. It’s adorable.”

Your hands curl into fists. “Delete it.”

For the first time, his smile fades. Not because you’ve upset him. Worse. Because he’s bored now. As though you’ve interrupted a conversation he was enjoying.

“You still think that’s what this is about.” The shift in his tone sends a chill down your spine. Levi rises from the bench with unhurried ease, and suddenly the distance between you feels far smaller than it did a moment ago.

Instinctively, you take a step backward and his eyes immediately drop to the movement before he smiles again; slowly, hungrily- and somehow that smile feels far worse than any anger could have.

“You know what I find interesting?” he asks. “All semester you’ve been pretending to be this sweet little thing. The innocent one. The good girl.” He takes a single step forward. “And now look at you.”

Disgust crawls beneath your skin. “You blackmailed me.”

“That’s one way to phrase it.”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing.”

Levi laughs softly. “You make it sound so ugly.”

“It is ugly!”

His gaze drifts over you with slow, deliberate consideration. The look alone makes you feel filthy. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “at first I thought I’d get bored.”

Your stomach tightens when he steps even closer. “But every time I think you’re finally going to break, you surprise me.” His smile returns.

“I just wanted a quick fuck at first but now? Now I think I‘m gonna keep you a bit longer, tugging on that invisible leash a bit more.“

Something cold settles in your chest because suddenly you understand: This isn’t about getting something from you. It never really was. The footage is just a leash. The real prize is watching you panic whenever he pulls it.

Watching you bargain. Watching you beg. Watching you stand in front of him knowing he has power over you.

Levi likes fear, he likes being the reason for it and the realization is somehow more terrifying than the blackmail itself.

“Please.” You hate how small your voice sounds, you hate even more that you’re saying it again.

Levi’s expression changes. Like he’s finally hearing exactly what he wanted. For several long seconds he simply stares at you. Then his smile widens.

“I knew you’d look pretty begging.” And just like that, he turns and walks away.

No deal. No answers. No compromise.

Leaving you standing alone beneath the fading sunlight while nausea churns violently in your stomach and humiliation burns hot behind your ribs.

You remain frozen long after he’s disappeared from view, staring at the path where he’d been standing as evening shadows stretch across the gardens and darkness slowly begins swallowing the last traces of gold.

Several paths away, concealed behind a dense wall of hedges and shrubs, Jungkook watches the space Levi just vacated. At first he’d only followed because something about the situation felt wrong.

First the text message you’d received during class: the way your expression had changed afterward. The fact that you’d spent the rest of the afternoon distracted and anxious before disappearing across campus without telling anyone where you were going.

Individually, none of it meant much. Together, it had been enough to catch his attention.

Now, standing partially hidden among the trees, he finds himself staring at the bench with a growing sense of unease. Because whatever he just witnessed wasn’t an argument between friends- the entire interaction had felt wrong from the beginning.

The way you’d approached this guy and the way you’d kept your distance… Your shoulders had remained tense the entire time. Most of all, it had been the look on your face.

Jungkook has seen people angry, embarrassed, heartbroken, jealous… What he’d seen on your face had been none of those things. It had looked frighteningly close to fear. Fuck.

His gaze drifts toward the path that fucker disappeared down. He hadn’t looked nervous once. Hadn’t looked uncertain. If anything, he’d looked fucking entertained.

And that detail bothers Jungkook more than anything else, because people don’t smile like that unless they think they’ve already won.

The thought follows him into the next morning and into the afternoon. Then into the day after that. By Wednesday he’s asking questions.

Not enough to attract attention, never enough to reveal why he’s interested. Just casual conversations scattered throughout campus, observations disguised as curiosity, names dropped into discussions whenever opportunities present themselves.

The answers begin accumulating slowly: A hesitation here, an uncomfortable laugh there. Expressions shifting the moment Levi’s name enters the conversation. Nobody seems surprised that Jungkook knows who Levi is. What surprises them is that he’d willingly bring him up.

By Thursday the pattern has become impossible to ignore: people don’t merely dislike Levi. They fucking avoid him.

The distinction matters- dislike is simple. Dislike is normal. But this? This feels different.

Every conversation leaves Jungkook with the same impression, as though everyone knows something but nobody wants to be the person who says it out loud. Cowards. Maybe.

Then rumors surface. Stories that don’t quite qualify as accusations. Warnings disguised as fucking jokes. Just enough fragments to suggest a much uglier picture hiding underneath.

And with every new piece, his thoughts return to the botanical gardens; to the way you’d looked standing across from Levi. The desperation in your posture. The expression on your face after he’d walked away.

By the end of the week, Jungkook stops asking whether Levi is a problem. The only question left is how dangerous that fucking problem actually is.

Because that little wanker is hiding something. Jungkook would bet money on it. And judging by the fear he’d seen in your eyes that evening, whatever Levi is hiding somehow leads directly back to you.

He doesn’t know how yet, doesn’t know why, but for the first time since this started, he has a direction.

And somewhere across campus, completely unaware of the attention quietly settling on him, Levi continues moving through life with the confidence of a man convinced he’s untouchable. Idiot.

Jungkook has met plenty of people like that.

None of them enjoyed what happened after he decided to shift his focus on them.

By friday afternoon, Jungkook tells himself he’s only still watching Levi because of you- the lie sounds reasonable enough in his head.

At first, the plan had been simple: figure out why you’d looked terrified in the botanical gardens, why you’d spent the last days moving through life like somebody was holding a knife to your future. And why you’d rather slowly tear yourself apart from the inside than ask for help.

Unfortunately, the more Jungkook learns about Levi, the uglier the picture becomes… On the surface, the guy is exactly what Jungkook expected: a spoiled little prick with too much confidence and not nearly enough substance. He sleeps through half his lectures, spends money he probably doesn’t have, drinks like his liver personally offended him, lies as naturally as breathing, and flirts with anything possessing a pulse and a functioning nervous system. Every interaction feels rehearsed, every smile manufactured, every apology delivered with the polished ease of somebody who has never once meant a fucking word coming out of his mouth.

The problem isn’t who Levi pretends to be- the problem is what keeps slipping through the cracks.

At the end of the week, Jungkook has memorized most of his routine without even meaning to. He knows which coffee shop Levi visits every morning, which campus buildings he cuts through between classes, which parking lot he disappears into whenever he thinks nobody is paying attention, and which groups of people he gravitates toward when he’s looking for an audience.

More importantly, Jungkook has started noticing the people Levi leaves behind: the girls.

There are always girls. Different faces and different conversations but always the same expressions in the end. At first, Jungkook thinks he’s imagining it, but it keeps happening- a flash of discomfort, forced smiles, nervous laughter. Their shoulders tense whenever Levi gets closer while their eyes dart toward exits. Entire conversations that somehow manage to look wrong from fifty feet away.

After a few days coincidences stop being a believable explanation and a cold feeling has settled permanently beneath his ribs.

At a little after four o’clock, he’s parked across from the humanities building with his motorcycle resting beneath him and his helmet balanced beside his leg while students stream through the glass doors in endless waves. His phone vibrates and the contact name immediately softens something inside his chest.

Princess: where are you? weren’t we studying today?

For a moment, Jungkook almost starts the bike. Almost.

The guilt hits instantly because he knows exactly what that message means. You don’t ask where he is because you’re impatient. You ask because you’ve spent the last week looking over your shoulder every five fucking seconds and somewhere along the way you’ve started checking for him without even realizing it. He fucking loves that you want him close and need him, even if you never admit it out loud, but he fucking hates that someone scared you so bad for it to happen.

Then movement near the entrance catches his attention. Levi.

The asshole exits the building while staring at his phone, smiling at something on the screen. He’s not alone.

A girl follows several steps behind him and Jungkook notices the distance immediately- not because it’s dramatic but because it’s deliberate. She’s clutching her bag tightly against her chest like it’s armor. Her shoulders are tense. Her gaze keeps flicking around the parking lot as though she’s searching for witnesses without wanting to admit she needs them. Every instinct Jungkook possesses starts screaming.

Another message appears.

Princess: you’re late.

His jaw tightens.

running late. sorry. be there soon.

The lie sends before he can reconsider it. Then he slips the phone back into his pocket and focuses on the scene unfolding below because something has changed.

The girl says something, something Jungkook can’t hear. Levi can. The smile vanishes from Levi’s face so quickly it almost looks unnatural. Interesting.

Levi takes two slow steps forward and she takes one back, her fingers burying even tighter into her backpack. Jungkook straightens slightly while his own fingers tighten around the edge of the seat.

The girl’s posture grows smaller while Levi’s grows larger. Not physically. Psychologically. Like a fucking predator sensing weakness. Like somebody who knows exactly how much space he occupies in another person’s head.

Levi says something- sharp enough that even from a distance Jungkook sees the reaction: She visibly flinches and Levi laughs. The sound carries across the parking lot. What a fucking annoying sound.

Jungkook’s jaw locks in pure anger. God, he wants to hit him. No warnings, no light punch… Hit him hard enough that he’d spend the next month drinking soup through a straw.

The girl finally shakes her head and Levi shrugs. Then his next words drift clearly across the open space. “You want me to leak it?” The girl visibly freezes.

Jungkook goes completely still, trying to gather even more from the conversation. Levi keeps talking. He‘s still calm and relaxed- like they’re discussing weather forecasts instead of whatever the fuck this is.

“Then get the money.” The girl’s eyes immediately fill with tears. “You have until tomorrow.” Levi checks his watch. “Last warning.”

The realization lands with a sickening certainty- not because Jungkook is slow. But part of him still wanted to be wrong. Blackmail. The little fucking psychopath is blackmailing her.

Not you.

Her. An entirely different girl. Which means this isn’t personal. It’s probably a habit. A routine even…

The girl starts crying and Levi instantly looks annoyed. Actually annoyed. As if her tears are inconveniencing him, as if she’s somehow making his day harder.

“Please,” she says, the word barely carrying across the distance. He rolls his eyes then reaches forward and hooks two fingers beneath her chin. The gesture is small- gentle, even. Which somehow makes it worse because nothing about it feels impulsive or emotional.

It feels practiced, like he’s done this before. Over and over again... The same conversation, the same fear, the same outcome. A hundred fucking times. Something ugly shifts deep inside Jungkook’s chest.

“Tomorrow.” Levi tells her once more. “Or don’t.” Another shrug, another filthy smile.

Another reminder that he genuinely doesn’t give a shit what happens to her afterward. Then he turns around and walks away. Just like he did with you in the botanical garden… Leaving her standing there.

She’s still crying long after he‘s gone. Jungkook can practically feel the fear and desperation radiating off her… after a while, she wipes at her face, turns and walks in the opposite direction where Levi walked off.

For a long moment, Jungkook doesn’t move. Students pass. Cars pull out. Conversations continue. Life keeps moving.

Meanwhile, something cold and deliberate begins assembling itself inside his head. Because now he understands the part that has been bothering him: Levi isn’t just a problem. Because problems have always been simple for Jungkook- problems have solutions.

Levi is a pattern. A system. A parasite that’s figured out exactly how much fear it takes to keep people quiet. And if he’s doing this to random girls on campus, then what the fuck has he been doing to you?

The thought hits hard enough to make Jungkook’s stomach twist. Suddenly all those late-night messages make sense. The panic in your eyes, the exhaustion during the day and at night during tutoring. The way you’d looked like a trapped animal every time Levi’s name came up.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You’d been drowning right in front of him and he’d spent weeks calling you stubborn instead of realizing somebody was holding your head underwater.

His phone vibrates again. Another message from you appears on the screen.

Princess: you better have a damn good excuse.

For a brief second, despite everything, a smile threatens to appear but then it’s gone again. Somewhere across campus, Levi is still walking around like he’s untouchable. Like nobody is paying attention or putting the pieces together.

Fucking idiot.

Jungkook slides his helmet over his head and starts the motorcycle. The engine growls beneath him, low and vicious, while his eyes remain fixed on the corner where Levi disappeared. Whatever secret the bastard is hiding, Jungkook is going to find it.

And if Levi is stupid enough to keep threatening people while believing nobody is watching, then he’s about to discover exactly how dangerous that assumption can be.

By the time Jungkook finally arrives at the sorority house, he’s nearly forty minutes late, which is exactly why the front door swings open before he even has a chance to knock and finds you already standing there with your arms crossed and a look on your face that promises violence.

“You’re late.”

Jungkook glances lazily at his watch before lifting his eyes back to yours. “Observation skills. Nice.”

Your expression immediately darkens. “Actually, I think you should leave.”

A slow grin begins pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Before he can step inside, you plant your palm directly against his forehead and begin pushing with all the determination of someone who has already committed to the bit and refuses to back down now.

Unfortunately, Jeon Jungkook is built like a concrete wall. He doesn’t move. Not even a little.

You keep trying anyway. “I waited.”

The pressure against his forehead increases dramatically, which might have been intimidating if he weren’t actively fighting a laugh.

“Did you?”

“Forty minutes.”

“Sounds… unbearable. Did ya miss me that bad, baby?”

“You’re the worst.”

Jungkook finally catches your wrist before you can shove him again, the movement so effortless it only makes the situation more irritating. One second you’re aggressively attempting to evict him from the premises and the next your finger is trapped between his while he bends slightly at the waist until his face is level with yours.

“Careful, princess.” His voice drops lower, playful amusement curling around every word. “You need me.”

Heat flashes across your face so quickly it feels unfair. “The ego on this man.”

“I’m the tutor.”

“The self-delusion on this man.”

His grin only widens, entirely too pleased with himself. “I seem to remember somebody failing quizzes.”

The offended gasp that leaves you could probably be heard from three rooms away. Jungkook looks delighted.

“You wound me.”

“You wound yourself.”

“I’ll have you know I got a solid seventy-three last week.”

“Congratulations.” The sarcasm practically drips from him. “That’s almost a real grade.”

You make the most angry face you can manage before sticking your tongue out at him like a child. Jungkook blinks. Then blinks again. And suddenly a laugh escapes him. Not the quiet chuckle he usually hides behind a smirk, but a real laugh that lights up his entire face and catches you completely off guard. For a moment, all you can do is stare.

“Cute.”

Your stomach immediately decides to become a problem. “Shut up.”

“No.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“You suck.”

“Like, on that sweet pussy? If you insist.” He gives you a shameless wink and you feel your cheeks heat up. He just keeps smiling.

The worst part is that lately you’ve started noticing every version of that smile: the smug ones, the teasing ones, the rare genuine ones that appear when he forgets himself for a second. Most importantly, you’ve started noticing when they’re directed at you.

Jungkook, unfortunately, notices things too- especially when those things involve you. His eyes narrow slightly. Then the grin returns with renewed strength.

“Aw.”

You immediately know where this is going. “No.”

“She’s blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“Jungkook.”

“Princess.”

A loud groan leaves you before you finally spin around and stomp toward the living room, abandoning the argument before he can make it worse. Behind you, Jungkook follows, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Asshole.

The studying begins surprisingly well- for approximately seven minutes…

Then Jungkook glances down at something you’ve written. Then back at you, back at the paper, then back at you again.

Your eye twitches. “What.” He just remains quiet and it annoys you even more.

“What?” you repeat, more aggressively this time.

Jungkook slowly lowers the page. “This sentence is shit.”

You stare at him, he stares back, neither of you blinks for a few seconds. Finally, you place a hand against your chest.

“Wow.”

“Constructive criticism.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m correct.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It literally is.”

You snatch the paper from his hand but he just grabs it back. You try to get a hold of it again but the page bends alarmingly between you.

“Stop fighting me.”

“Stop being wrong.”

“I’m not wrong.”

A long sigh leaves him, accompanied by the expression of a man attempting to explain basic survival instincts to someone determined to lick a power outlet.

“Princess,” he begins patiently, “you wrote four paragraphs and somehow managed to say absolutely nothing.”

Your jaw drops. “That’s rude.”

“It’s impressive.”

“You are so annoying.”

“You submitted this.”

You immediately launch a highlighter at his head. Without even looking, Jungkook catches it out of the air. Show-off.

“You know,” he says while opening your notebook again, “most students actually try to pass.”

“I am trying.”

“No, you’re improvising.”

“That’s basically the same thing.”

“It absolutely isn’t.”

The next thirty minutes disappear beneath arguments about thesis statements, grammar choices, sentence structure, citation formats, and whether Jungkook is intentionally making things difficult for his own entertainment.

The answer is almost certainly yes.

At some point, Minji wanders through the living room carrying a drink, pauses when she notices the two of you arguing over a textbook like a couple celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary through mutual irritation, then silently turns around and leaves without saying a word. Neither of you notices.

The strange thing is that nothing has actually changed. Levi still exists, the fear still exists. The pressure sitting permanently inside your chest hasn’t magically disappeared.

None of the real problems have gone anywhere.

And yet, somehow, the weight feels lighter- easy enough that you can breathe without feeling like your lungs are collapsing. Enough that laughter occasionally slips through the cracks.

Easy enough that when Jungkook eventually declares you a menace to higher education and you threaten to hit him with the nearest textbook, the familiar rhythm that always existed between the two of you settles naturally back into place.

The bickering. The teasing. The endless competition to have the final word. The comfort hidden beneath every insult and eye roll.

For the first time in days, everything feels familiar again, and for a little while, neither of you says a single thing about the subjects that actually matter.

By the end of the first hour, Jungkook is irritated. By the end of the second, he’s offended.

Somewhere during the third, while kneeling on Levi’s bedroom floor surrounded by enough junk to qualify as a biohazard, he seriously considers setting the entire mattress on fire out of principle.

Because there should be something.

There has to be.

The room isn’t spotless by any means. Levi still lives like a feral raccoon that somehow acquired a student loan and access to online shopping, but all the obvious places have already been checked. Every drawer has been emptied. Every shelf has been searched. Jungkook has flipped through textbooks, dug through storage bins shoved beneath the bed, checked jacket pockets, old backpacks, gym bags, and stacks of loose papers that looked important until they turned out to be useless.

Nothing.

No notebooks. No folders. No hidden collection of blackmail material waiting to be discovered. No convenient smoking gun. Just garbage.

Which is exactly why Jungkook keeps looking- because innocent people don’t spend their afternoons threatening girls for money. And Levi definitely isn’t innocent.

A floorboard creaks beneath his boot. The sound is subtle enough that most people wouldn’t even register it, but Jungkook freezes immediately, every instinct sharpening at once as his gaze drops toward the floor.

For several seconds he remains perfectly still. Then he slowly shifts his weight- the board creaks again. Interesting.

Nothing about it looks unusual. The wood isn’t damaged. There aren’t any visible pry marks. No scratches. No signs that anyone has been lifting it. Still, when Jungkook crouches and presses down near the edge, he feels something move. Just slightly.

A slow smile appears. “There you are.”

Two minutes later, the board comes loose and suddenly everything makes sense…

A second laptop sits hidden beneath the floor alongside several USB drives and an external hard drive, each item carefully wrapped in plastic as though Levi knows exactly how much trouble he’d be in if anyone ever found them.

For a moment Jungkook simply stares… then training takes over; his phone appears in his hand. A photograph. Another. The laptop, the serial numbers, the USB & hard drive. The compartment itself.

Every angle. Every detail. Every piece of evidence exactly where he found it.

When he’s finished, everything goes back beneath the floorboards. Taking it now would be stupid- Levi would notice and panic. And panicked people become reckless and even more dangerous

No. Jungkook needs him comfortable. Confident. Completely unaware that someone has already broken into the walls of his life and started pulling bricks loose.

Which is how he finds himself sitting inside Yoongi’s apartment an hour later.

The place looks exactly the same as always; coffee cups occupy every available surface. Multiple monitors cast pale light across the dark room. Half-finished projects litter the desk, and Yoongi himself appears to be functioning exclusively through caffeine, nicotine, and sheer stubbornness.

Jungkook drops into a chair and slides his phone across the desk. Yoongi scrolls through the photographs. Once. Twice.

Then reaches for his coffee. “Interesting.”

“Can you get into it?”

For the first time, Yoongi looks up. The expression on his face suggests he has been personally insulted.

“That’s what you’re asking?”

“Yes.”

A long pause follows before the older one gestures vaguely toward the screen.

“Jungkook.” Another pause. “That’s not even a challenge.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “I need thirty seconds.”

“Show-off.”

“Correct. And that’s also why you came here.”

The plan comes together quickly after that because predictable people are easy to manipulate.

And Levi is painfully predictable- another night and the idiot disappears into another party.

Jungkook knows he won’t return for the rest of the night. He drinks way too much for someone who can’t handle his liquor well.

Around 2am the idiot is unconscious behind a row of fraternity bushes, covered in dirt, soaked in stale alcohol, missing one shoe, and sleeping dangerously close to his own vomit.

Jungkook stares while Yoongi stands next to him. Neither looks impressed.

“You know,” Yoongi says eventually, “I expected better.” Jungkook just shakes his head. Levi snores. The disappointment somehow deepens.

Twenty minutes later they’re back inside his room. This time they have time and the tools. Yoongi settles into the desk chair, powers on the hidden laptop, and waits for the password screen to appear.

Jungkook watches while Yoongi doesn’t look remotely concerned. A small device disappears into one of the ports, then code begins scrolling across the screen. Twenty-three seconds later the desktop appears.

Jungkook blinks, Yoongi takes a sip of coffee. “Told you.”

Then he starts opening folders and very quickly the room changes because they stopped looking for evidence… now they stare right at it.

Folder after folder appears across the screen:

Names. Dozens of them.

Each one labeled carefully, belonging to different persons. Videos. Photographs. Screenshots. Private conversations. Class schedules. Social media accounts. Secrets. Mistakes. Embarrassing moments. Painful ones.

Every insecurity, every vulnerability, every weakness meticulously catalogued and stored. Not memories or keepsakes. Weapons.

For several seconds, neither man speaks. The laptop fan hums softly beneath years of accumulated files.

Yoongi scrolls and scrolls before he slowly leans back. “Jesus Christ.” The words come out quieter than usual.

Jungkook just keeps staring; another folder, another victim. Another life Levi decided he had the right to own.

“What a fucking loser.”

Yoongi’s expression darkens. “Nah.” His eyes remain fixed on the screen. “This is worse than loser.”

The silence stretches, then he exhales. “This is psychotic.”

Jungkook barely hears him- he’s already noticed something else. One specific folder. It’s recent. His hand moves before he consciously decides to.

The folder opens and a quiet curse leaves his lips. There are dozens of photographs of… you.

You leaving lectures, carrying coffee across campus, laughing beside Soomin, walking toward the sorority house, sitting outside academic buildings, glancing over your shoulder.

You were completely unaware someone was following you.

Jungkook’s stomach drops, not because he’s surprised, but suddenly every missing piece clicks into place: Every exhausted expression. Every nervous glance. Every time you’d looked like you were carrying something too heavy to say out loud.

He scrolls through the folder until a video appears. The thumbnail is only in black and white, not very sharp and kind of grainy but he recognises it immediately. The library.

The way you were kneeling for him, looking up while he stroked your hair.

Levi had seen it too… and used it against you.

Beside him, Yoongi leans forward. “Holy shit.” His gaze moves between the screen and Jungkook’s face. “Is that little asshole blackmailing you?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens hard enough to hurt, then he slowly shakes his head. “No.”

The answer is quiet. Understanding settles across Yoongi’s face almost immediately.

“Oh.” A long pause follows. “Oh, he’s blackmailing her.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, doesn’t even move nor blink. His eyes remain fixed on the screen. On the thumbnail of the video.

“My girl.” The words leave him without thought. Not even possessive, not performative just certain. Like a fact.

Yoongi closes his eyes briefly before rubbing a hand down his face. “Idiot.”

Jungkook finally glances over.

“Not you.” the older one quickly adds. “Him.” Yoongi points toward the screen.

Neither of them speaks for a long time, both just stare at the screen, trying to process what kind of fucked up rabbit hole they dug up.

Yoongi glances toward his friend, and the look on the younger man’s face should scare him. In fact, it probably would scare anyone else… but Min Yoongi knew one thing: Jeon Jungkook rarely got loud or angry, and even more rarely got physical unless he had a damn good reason…

Finally, Yoongi leans back. “Just make sure you leave no evidence.” The room falls silent.

Jungkook’s hand stops on the touchpad. Slowly, he turns his head.

Yoongi shrugs and gestures toward the screen.“I’ve known you long enough.”

His gaze drifts back to your folder, back to the photographs. Back to the proof of what Levi has been doing.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

Jungkook remains silent but a tiny twitch under his right eye tells Yoongi everything he needs to know.

Yoongi snorts. “Don’t give me that look.” The silence lingers for a few more seconds before his voice softens.

“Honestly…” He exhales slowly. “I get it.”

The words aren’t approval or encouragement. Not really. But they’re understanding. Because some people spend years building the walls of their own downfall. And Levi has spent years laying every single brick himself.

Yoongi finally looks back at him. “Just be careful.”A tiny humorless laugh escapes him. “You’re smart, so make sure you stay smart.”

Jungkook nods then carefully, almost deliberately, closes the laptop. “Good.”

Yoongi frowns. “Good?”

Jungkook slides the laptop back into the bag and into its hiding place under the floorboard. “Now I know.”

“Know what?”

For the first time all evening, something changes in his expression- and it’s colder than anything Yoongi has ever seen before on his friend’s face.

Something final.

The look of a man who has stopped asking questions and started making decisions.

“What kind of person he is.”

The answer sends a chill down Yoongi’s spine because it doesn’t sound like a discovery. It sounds like a verdict.

The day starts badly and somehow finds increasingly creative ways to make itself worse.

The first problem arrives shortly after lunch when one of the freshmen Levi has been leaning on for the better part of a month suddenly decides she doesn’t have the money. Not next week. Not tomorrow. Not after payday. Apparently she spent the entire amount on tuition and now breaks down crying every time he calls.

Pathetic.

Levi hangs up halfway through her latest sobbing apology and blocks the number without a second thought. If she’s stupid enough to force his hand, that’s her problem.

The second problem arrives during class when he realizes he’s probably going to fail another exam. The third when his professor asks him to stay behind afterward. And the fourth when he checks his bank account.

By the time evening rolls around, Levi is in a genuinely foul mood, which usually means somebody else is about to have a much worse night than he is.

The thought improves his mood considerably.

As he walks back toward the fraternity house, gym bag slung over one shoulder, his mind begins drifting through possibilities. A photograph would probably be enough. Maybe a video if he’s feeling generous. Nothing catastrophic. Nothing that couldn’t be explained away later.

Just enough. Enough humiliation, just enough fear. Just enough pressure to remind people what happens when they stop cooperating.

The familiar feeling settles warmly inside his chest. Control. Consequences. Fear.

People always respond best to fear.

Whistling softly beneath his breath, he climbs the stairs toward his room, fishes his keys from his pocket, unlocks the door, and steps inside.

Then he freezes- a weird sensation hits him... not because anything is obviously wrong. Nothing has been overturned or appears to be damaged.

The furniture remains exactly where he left it. The room looks normal. And yet something deep inside him immediately recoils. Wrong.

The realization crawls slowly up his spine.

For several long seconds he remains standing just inside the doorway while his eyes move across the room. Everything looks exactly the same, which somehow makes it worse.

A strange pressure begins building beneath his ribs and his pulse picks up slightly, the same way animals know they’re being watched before they understand why.

Levi tells himself he’s being ridiculous and walks across the room. His movements feel strangely careful now. Like somebody entering a house that may or may not contain a stranger.

When he finally kneels beside the floorboard, the unease inside his stomach sharpens. The board comes loose easily. Too easily.

The compartment beneath it is empty.

For a moment, his brain simply refuses to process what he’s looking at…

The laptop should be there… the hard drive... the USB drives... They’ve always been there!

The empty space seems impossible. Unreal.

Like his eyes are showing him the wrong image. Slowly, he reaches inside- his fingers scrape against bare wood. Nothing.

His stomach drops. “No.”

His hands move faster now, searching corners, feeling beneath edges, as though the devices might somehow reappear if he looks hard enough. Nothing.

The compartment remains empty. Completely, utterly, terrifyingly empty.

A cold rush shoots down his spine as the room feels different: violated. Someone was here and found it. Found the one place nobody was ever supposed to find.

“No, no, no…”

His breathing starts quickening. The floorboard slips from trembling fingers and crashes against the floor with a sharp crack that echoes through the room.

Because another realization is already crashing into him: Photographs, videos, folders, entire conversations and files… Every secret and threat. Every victim. Everything.

Gone…

Levi stumbles backward so quickly he nearly loses his footing. His pulse pounds violently inside his ears. Someone has it- has all of it.

And suddenly every person he’s ever threatened begins flashing through his mind. Every girl. Every guy.

Every desperate plea. Every ruined life. Every enemy he’d created. The list is much longer than he’d like it to be.

A strained sound escapes him, part laugh, part panic. Because this isn’t happening. It can’t be.

Then he sees the note.

A single folded piece of paper resting neatly at the bottom of the compartment. The sight sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling through him- suddenly the missing files aren’t the most frightening part.

The note is.

Whoever took everything wanted him to know, wanted him to come home. To look. Wanted him to understand.

His fingers shake as he unfolds the paper:

OLD SWIMMING POOL, MIDNIGHT

For several seconds he simply stares. The room around him seems to disappear, silence feels suffocating. Something awful begins crawling slowly up his spine: whoever did this could have vanished… They could have gone to the police, could have exposed him and leaked everything.

Instead, they left an invitation. Or maybe it isn’t an invitation. Maybe it’s a summons.

A cold sweat breaks across the back of his neck because now he isn’t imagining administrators or police officers. Not even angry victims demanding justice.

He’s imagining something much worse.

Someone patient, methodical. Someone who already has every card in their hand.

Someone confident enough to tell him where to be and fully expect him to show up.

The realization lands like a punch directly to the chest. This isn’t a warning… warnings happen before consequences but this? This feels like the consequence itself.

Slowly, Levi lifts his gaze and looks around the room. For the first time since moving into the fraternity house, a thought occurs to him that nearly makes him sick. What if someone has been standing in this room while he slept?

The possibility lodges itself inside his head and immediately begins growing teeth. If they found the floorboard, what else do they know? What else have they seen? How many times have they been here? How long have they been watching? A shiver runs through him.

The room no longer feels familiar, doesn’t even feel like his. Every corner suddenly seems capable of hiding eyes. Every shadow feels occupied.

Outside, darkness slowly settles over campus. Midnight remains hours away. Far too many hours. Hours he will spend imagining every possible outcome, wondering who found him.

Hours he will spend realizing that for the first time in years, he has absolutely no control over what happens next.

Yet despite the fear clawing through his chest, he already knows one thing with complete certainty: He’s going.

Because the person who left that note now owns every secret he ever buried.

And somehow, as he stares down at those simple words, the thing waiting for him at the old swimming pool feels infinitely more dangerous than prison ever could.

➻ taglist for stupid little girl

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The first thing that goes is her sleep.

Jungkook notices on Monday when the light in her bedroom stays on until 3:47 in the morning, a dull yellow glow bleeding through the curtains while he sits on the hood of his car across the street smoking cigarettes he doesn’t really want. At first he assumes she’s studying. By 2:30 he’s pretty sure she’s procrastinating. By 3:15 she’s pacing. By 3:40 she’s staring blankly out the window like she’s waiting for divine intervention to descend from the heavens and fix her life for her. It doesn’t.

Tuesday is worse. Wednesday too.

By Thursday she’s fallen asleep at her desk twice. The second time she wakes with a start, forehead pressed against an open textbook, strawberry gummies scattered across the pages like evidence. He watches her stare at the same paragraph for almost twenty minutes without turning the page once and feels something darkly satisfied settle beneath his ribs because, despite all her dramatic speeches about staying away from him, she’s clearly having about as much success with that as he is.

The first thing that goes is her sleep. The second thing is her concentration. After that everything starts unraveling surprisingly fast.

A missed assignment. A failed quiz. Three coffees before noon. Half a sandwich abandoned in a trash can outside campus. A conversation with her boyfriend that lasts exactly four minutes and twelve seconds before she hangs up and immediately looks miserable afterward. Jungkook notices all of it.

Not because he’s looking for reasons to watch her. That would imply he’s making an effort. He’s already watching her. The difference matters to him. At least enough that he keeps repeating it.

She told him not to call, so he doesn’t. Told him not to text, so he doesn’t. Told him not to touch her, which is admittedly more annoying, but a promise is a promise. Technically.

The irony almost makes him laugh because she never said anything about looking, and Jungkook has always been exceptionally good at following rules exactly as they’re written.

By Friday he’s bored of pretending this arrangement is working. She’s exhausted, he’s irritated, and nobody’s winning. Especially not him. The final straw arrives during statistics when she completely bombs a question she could’ve answered half asleep two weeks ago. He watches embarrassment flash across her face before she sinks lower in her seat and spends the next forty minutes pretending she’s paying attention while her pen never actually moves.

Something cold settles beneath his ribs. By the end of the lecture he’s already made his decision. The exam is next week, she’s spiraling, and clearly intervention is required. The fact that he misses hearing her yell at him is completely unrelated. Probably.

The sorority house looks exactly the same when he arrives that evening. Warm lights glow through the windows, laughter drifts from somewhere upstairs, and music hums faintly through the walls.

Soomin answers after the second knock and immediately narrows her eyes. “Jungkook?”

He lifts his laptop slightly. “Tutoring.”

The look she gives him suggests she’d believe almost anything except that. Smart girl. Unfortunately for her, she’s still polite enough to let him inside. “She’s in the kitchen.”

“Thanks.”

He finds her exactly where he expected. Messy hair. Oversized hoodie. Coffee. Dark circles beneath her eyes. The sight of her hits harder than it should. Not because she looks good. She does. But she also looks wrecked.

His fault. Well. Partially.

The realization lasts less than a second before she notices him and immediately looks like she’d rather throw herself into traffic. Much better- he likes the fire in her eyes.

The next hour passes surprisingly well. Minji is funny. Soomin is quick-witted. Neither of them seems remotely concerned about how much information they hand over once they’re comfortable, and Jungkook has never been the kind of person to interrupt somebody while they’re making a mistake.

By the time she’s disappeared into the kitchen to grab something, Minji is halfway through a story about freshman year while Soomin is laughing hard enough to spill her drink. Jungkook waits. Patiently. Then casually asks, “She’s okay, right?”

Both girls glance toward him. “What do you mean?” Soomin asks.

He shrugs and looks back down at his laptop. “Just seems distracted lately.”

Neither answers immediately. Interesting. So he lets the silence do the work before adding, “Everything okay with her boyfriend?”

The reaction is instant; A glance between them- tiny and fast but shared. There it is.

Minji sighs first. “Honestly?” Jungkook nods. “Honestly.”

And then the floodgates open. Not because they’re traitors- because they’re worried. Because they care about her. Because neither of them realizes they’re handing ammunition to the worst possible person. Jungkook listens quietly, stores every word away, and keeps his expression perfectly neutral while they talk.

Then suddenly the room changes- the shift happens before he even sees her. Footsteps. A drink placed onto the coffee table. Silence. And then:

“Wow.”

Jungkook looks up immediately. She heard. Every single word. Good. For the first time all week she looks awake. Angry. Sharp. Alive.

Usually he’d love it but the problem is that look: the one she gets right before she does something reckless. Jungkook knows it better than anyone. The second he sees it, he understands two things.

First, she’s hurt. And second, somebody’s about to suffer for it.

Unfortunately, that somebody turns out to be him… The first sentence lands harder than expected. The second is even worse.

By the time she says, “that man can fuck,” something inside him goes completely still. The dangerous kind- the kind that comes before anger. She keeps talking. Keeps smiling. Keeps looking directly at him while she does it. Every sentence feels deliberate. Targeted. Designed.

‘He spent hours consoling me.’ ‘I stayed overnight.’ ‘We fucked-‘ ‘Again.’ ‘And again…’ ‘…and again.’

Jungkook doesn’t move. Doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t even blink. Across the room Soomin looks horrified. Minji looks seconds away from cardiac arrest. Meanwhile all Jungkook can think about is the fact that she’s watching him more than she’s watching them.

Every sentence is aimed directly at him. Every word like another knife- another stab. Another twist.

By the time she finishes with, “Shall we continue studying?” he already knows two things:

The first is that she’s trying to hurt him. And the second is that it worked.

After your little explosive rant you feel good. Well, for approximately thirty seconds but then the silence of the room sits heavy beneath all of you. Nobody answers immediately.

A beat passes, then another, until Minji finally clears her throat awkwardly: “I’m suddenly realizing I actually have homework upstairs.”

“Oh my god, don’t leave me alone here,” Soomin hisses immediately. “You started this!” “I did not-”

Jungkook closes his laptop, the soft click instantly shuts both of them up. Your pulse stutters. Then he looks at you, and somehow that’s worse. If he were angry, if he looked even remotely affected by what you just said, maybe you’d feel better. Instead he just sits there calm and composed, watching you with the kind of patience that makes your stomach turn.

“Five minute break,” he says quietly.

The tone isn’t threatening, but both your friends are already standing before he’s even finished speaking. Traitors.

“Oh wow,” Minji says too quickly. “Suddenly craving ramen.” Soomin nods aggressively. “Me too. Crazy.”

You stare at them in disbelief while they practically sprint toward the kitchen. The second they disappear around the corner, silence settles over the room, stretching tight between you and Jungkook.

He keeps looking at you for another second before leaning forward, forearms resting against his thighs as his gaze drags slowly over your face. “You done?”

Your stomach flips violently. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

A quiet hum leaves him. “You know,” he murmurs, “that almost sounded believable for a second.”

Heat flashes across your face and you cross your arms. “Maybe because it’s true.”

One side of his jaw tightens. Finally: A reaction. The small victory burns hot and ugly through your chest.

“You know what’s interesting?” he asks.

“What.”

“The details.” His fingers tap once against the closed laptop. “The way you kept looking at me instead of your friends while talking.” His head tilts slightly. “Almost like you wanted me to react.”

You hate how quickly he dismantles you. “I wasn’t-”

“You were.” The interruption is calm, almost casual, which somehow makes it worse. Jungkook leans back again, studying your face like he’s piecing something together.

“You wanna know the really fucked up part?” Your heartbeat stumbles. “I can’t tell if you were trying to hurt me…” His eyes stay locked on yours. “…or convince yourself.”

The sentence lands straight in your chest because, unfortunately, it was both. You look away first. Coward.

A slow breath leaves him before silence settles between you again. Then:

“Did he actually touch you?”

Your head snaps back toward him. The question catches you completely off guard because suddenly the atmosphere changes. Not dramatically. Not visibly. Just enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Because the answer matters, way too much. You can see it in his eyes.

“Why do you care?”

Jungkook doesn’t blink. “That’s not an answer.”

The silence stretches. Slowly, something ugly and bratty wakes up inside you.

Fine. If he wants honesty so badly, he can choke on it. A small smile pulls at your mouth.

“Yes.”

Jungkook stills. “…yes what?” The roughness creeping into his voice sends a thrill through your stomach.

You lean back against the couch cushions, pretending calm. “He did.”

His jaw flexes. “He…” His eyes drag slowly across your face. “…touched you?”

The way he says the word almost makes you laugh, like the concept itself offends him.

“That sounds sweet when you say it like that.” His stare hardens while you keep poking the bear. “First time he wasn’t sweet with me that night,” you continue lightly, stirring your drink while holding eye contact. “But yeah.”

A tiny shrug. “I guess he touched me.”

The room feels suffocatingly warm. Jungkook doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt, just keeps staring at you while something vicious curls tighter inside your chest.

So you twist the knife one more time while smiling: “Everywhere.”

This time the reaction is impossible to miss. Jungkook suddenly leans forward, elbows braced against his knees while one tattooed hand drags slowly across his mouth. He looks like he’s actively trying to contain himself, and for the first time since you met him, the effortless composure slips.

The realization hits like a drug: Jeon Jungkook is jealous.

A shaky thrill runs through your stomach. Unfortunately, he notices that too.

A quiet laugh leaves him. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Your eyebrows lift innocently. “What? Talking about my boyfriend?”

The word boyfriend visibly irritates him. “You’re trying real hard to piss me off tonight, princess.”

“And you’re trying real hard to act like you have any claim over me.”

The shift is immediate- his eyes darken, his expression sharpening into something that makes your pulse skip entirely. You should stop, you know you should… Instead, you want more. You want him affected the way he’s affected you.

“You know what else I did with him that night?” The question hangs heavily between the two of you while rain taps softly against the windows.

Jungkook’s expression barely changes, except for the tiny twitch near his eye. You notice it and victory flashes through your chest.

“What?” you ask sweetly, lifting your drink. “You don’t wanna know?”

His jaw tightens even more and for one dangerous second you genuinely think he might snap. Instead, his fingers drum once against his knee before going still.

“Careful.”

The warning slides low and hot through your stomach but instead of stopping, you lean slightly closer toward Jungkook and press your tongue a few times against the inside of your cheek.

A tiny, filthy movement. And completely intentional.

Your eyes never leave his. Jungkook immediately stills. A sharp breath leaves him through his nose and suddenly the victory burning inside your chest twists into something hotter. More reckless. Then, softly enough you mutter:

“You taught me well with the gag reflex.”

The effect is immediate- his entire body tenses beneath the black hoodie. You continue anyway, because apparently every self-preservation instinct inside you died somewhere around the library.

“So thank you,” you whisper sweetly, then smile. “He loved it.”

Silence.

Jungkook stares at you for one long second and suddenly you realize two things at once:

- you won. - and you may have made a terrible fucking mistake.

Because whatever amusement had been left on his face is now completely fucking gone. His tongue drags slowly across the inside of his lip piercing while he keeps staring at you like he’s deciding between several very bad ideas. The rush of heat that crashes through your body at the sight of it is deeply concerning.

A dark laugh leaves him. Then he leans back against the couch cushions again, fingers flexing once against his thigh. “Yeah?” He frowns. “That what we’re doing now?”

“Well… You don’t own me.”

The words leave your mouth sharp enough to cut and for a second Jungkook just stares at you from across the couch, dark eyes unreadable beneath the dim living room light while rain taps softly against the windows and muffled laughter drifts faintly from upstairs where Soomin and Minji disappeared way too conveniently some time ago.

Meanwhile Jungkook still hasn’t looked away from you once and the room suddenly feels too warm, too quiet, too full of everything neither of you knows how to say without turning it ugly.

Something inside you still twists painfully from overhearing that conversation earlier, from hearing your own best friends casually dissect your relationship like they already knew you were unhappy before you even admitted it to yourself. The hurt still sits beneath your skin alongside the humiliation and every awful thing Jungkook keeps dragging out of you whenever he looks at you for too long, and before common sense has a chance to intervene, your brat lashes out one last time.

Slowly, you pull your phone from beside you on the couch and unlock it with exaggerated calmness. Jungkook’s eyes immediately flick downward before returning to your face. You smile sweetly.

“But my sweet boyfriend owns this pussy,” you murmur lightly while your thumbs move lazily across the screen. “And guess who’s getting a taste of it tonight.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t react, doesn’t give you anything at all, and honestly that should scare you a lot more than it does. Instead, the rush of finally affecting him after weeks of emotional torture burns too hot through your chest for common sense to survive.

A dark laugh leaves him beneath his breath while his jaw flexes once, fingers drumming briefly against his knee before stopping completely, like he physically caught himself. “You really wanna do this?”

The warning slides low through your stomach, but the second you saw that flicker of jealousy earlier, something inside you snapped too, now you can’t seem to stop. You lean back further into the couch cushions, crossing your legs, dangerously close to brush his knee.

“What?” you ask innocently, tilting your head. “You jealous?”

The shift happens so fast it steals the breath from your lungs- One second Jungkook is sitting across from you, and the next he’s above you, your back hitting the couch cushions with a startled gasp as one arm braces beside your head while the other catches your wrist before you can do something stupid.

“Jungkook…”

“Fucking brat-” The words come low and sharp, not loud, which somehow makes it worse. “You wanna make me jealous?” he asks quietly, dark eyes locked onto yours. “Is that what we’re doing now?”

Heat flashes through your chest, and the worst part is that he notices immediately. Of course he does.

A dark smile starts tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leans in slightly, having you pinned beneath him but there’s a devilish glint in your eyes as a small, evil giggle escapes you.

“What…” he begins.

“MINJIIIIIIII!” The scream echoes through the house and instantly shatters whatever was happening between you.

Jungkook freezes before his head snaps toward the stairs. “The fuck…” he mutters.

Voices drift from upstairs, followed by hurried footsteps, and your grin widens immediately. His eyes widen too.

“SOO-” His hand clamps over your mouth before you can finish.

“Don’t.” The word comes through gritted teeth, making you laugh against his palm.

“Mmph.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

The footsteps grow closer, a floorboard creaking somewhere above, and Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut for a brief second like he’s questioning every decision that led him to this exact moment. Then he lets go and practically launches himself back across the couch.

By the time Soomin appears at the top of the stairs, Jungkook is already sitting with his laptop open, shoulders relaxed, expression blank, looking every bit like a hardworking student who definitely hasn’t spent the last thirty seconds threatening your sanity. You nearly choke from holding your laughter back.

“Everything okay?” Soomin calls.

Your eyes immediately find Jungkook’s. His jaw tightens. The warning in his stare couldn’t be clearer: Don’t.

You smile sweetly. “Oh, actually, yes.”

Jungkook’s expression instantly turns suspicious, which only makes this better.

“I think Jungkook and I are done studying.”

Soomin blinks. “What?”

“Done.” You shut your notebook with a cheerful snap. “I’m suddenly in the mood for good vibes.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes but you keep smiling. “Wasn’t there some frat party Minji wanted to go to tonight?”

The room falls silent for exactly two seconds before Minji appears behind Soomin. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Very.” “You’ve been half-dead for a week.” “Not anymore.”

Your gaze drifts back to Jungkook and you give him a slow wink. His jaw visibly flexes.

“Let’s go.”

The girls stare at you, then at each other, and then back at you. “…Who are you?” Minji asks, “…and what did you do to our best friend?” Soomin finishes the question carefully and you snort in return.

“New personality,” you reply. “Thought I’d try it out.”

“You hate frat parties.”

“Yeah… but thanks to Jungkook I don’t have to worry so much about the exam anymore, he really took my mind off a lot of things. Helped with the stress.” A snort comes from the couch but you ignore it.

“I want loud music,” you announce. “I want drinks. I want cute boys.”

That one lands exactly the way you intended- you don’t even need to look at Jungkook to know it. You can practically feel the temperature in the room drop a few degrees.

Minji looks delighted, Soomin looks concerned and Jungkook looks like he’s mentally calculating prison sentences. Perfect.

It remains perfect right up until a single realization sneaks into your head: If you go to that party, Jungkook is absolutely going to show up. And judging by the look currently lurking behind his eyes, that realization should probably scare you a lot more than it does.

The party is already packed by the time you arrive. Music rattles through the walls hard enough to vibrate beneath your ribs while bodies drift through every room in a blur of flashing lights, cheap alcohol, and bad decisions waiting to happen. Exactly what you wanted. Or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself.

Minji disappears almost immediately after walking through the front door, swallowed whole by the crowd, and Soomin lasts maybe seven minutes before someone from one of her classes spots her and drags her toward the kitchen. Somehow, despite arriving together, you end up alone again.

You take a sip from your drink and scan the room. No Jungkook. Good. The strange flicker of disappointment that follows is annoying enough that you immediately ignore it.

The next hour passes surprisingly well. You dance when someone pulls you into a circle near the speakers, laugh at jokes that probably aren’t that funny, and let people talk to you without searching for an excuse to escape. A guy tries flirting with you near the drinks table and manages to hold your attention for almost three whole minutes before you get bored. Yeah, everything feels normal. Perfectly normal.

So why does it feel like you’re waiting for something? The realization irritates you enough to get another drink.

You’re only halfway through it when Minji suddenly appears at your side. One look at her face tells you she’s at least slightly drunk, and judging by the smile stretching across her features, that combination is dangerous.

“There you are.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “What did you break?”

She gasps dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “Nothing.” The pause that follows immediately answers the question. “Yet.”

A sigh escapes you. “Yeah. That’s about what I expected.”

Minji grins and leans against the counter beside you, stealing a sip from your drink before you can stop her. For a moment she simply watches the crowd, then glances sideways.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“You and Jungkook aren’t a thing, right?”

You nearly choke. The reaction is so immediate and violent that it catches even you off guard. “What?!”

Minji blinks. “You heard me.”

“No!” The answer comes too quickly and far too loudly.

The grin spreading across her face is instant. “Oh my god.”

“Minji, no.”

“You totally-”

“I don’t.”

She laughs. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

Heat immediately creeps up your neck. “I knew exactly what you were going to say.”

Minji looks entirely too entertained by this “So you’re not into him.”

“No.”

“Not even a little.”

“No.”

She hums thoughtfully before taking another sip of her drink. “Okay, but he’s insanely hot.”

The jealousy that shoots through your chest is so immediate it almost makes you angry. At yourself. At her. At him. At everyone.

You force out a laugh. “Then go talk to him.”

Minji snorts. “Please.”

“What?”

“He’d eat me alive.”

You roll your eyes. “Good survival instinct.”

“I’m serious.” She points her drink at you, “That man looks at people like he’s deciding whether they’re worth the paperwork.”

Despite yourself, a laugh slips out- the image is painfully accurate. Minji laughs too before nudging your shoulder. “Still hot, though.”

You hate how much that bothers you. “Stay away from him.”

One of her eyebrows lifts immediately. “Oh?”

“He’s insufferable.”

“That sounded personal.”

“It isn’t.” The lie comes easier than it should.

Thankfully someone calls her name from across the room before she can push any further. Minji turns, waves, and disappears back into the crowd, leaving you alone with the uncomfortable conversation and the even more uncomfortable feelings it stirred up.

You exhale slowly and decide to find Soomin. Mostly because everyone in this stupid house seems determined to vanish the second you look away.

You spot him in one of the side lounges, and for a brief moment relief washes through you before your brain fully registers what you’re seeing. Then it vanishes.

A girl is sitting in Jungkook’s lap.

Not close enough to be misunderstood, not flirting in a way that leaves room for interpretation. She is quite literally sitting in his lap, one hand tangled in the dark hair at the back of his neck while his arm rests loosely around her waist with the kind of casual familiarity that suggests she’s been there for a while.

Your feet stop moving. The room suddenly feels hotter than before, the music louder, the crowd pressing in from all sides until the space around you seems impossibly small.

The girl says something you can’t make out beneath the music and Jungkook laughs, a real laugh that reaches his eyes. A second later she hooks her fingers into the front of his hoodie, pulls him down toward her, and kisses him without hesitation. Like she’s done it before, like she knows exactly what his response will be.

And she does because Jungkook kisses her back after a second. The drop in your stomach is so violent it almost hurts.

Around you the party continues uninterrupted. Music keeps pounding through the speakers, conversations blend together into meaningless noise, people move from room to room carrying drinks and bad decisions, completely oblivious to the way your entire world seems to tilt sideways.

Jungkook isn’t pushing her away. He isn’t stopping her. If anything, his hand tightens briefly against her waist while she smiles against his mouth, and suddenly all you can think about is how natural he looks there. How comfortable. How easy. How familiar.

Something ugly twists low in your chest.

The girl laughs breathlessly when they finally pull apart and leans in to whisper something into his ear. Jungkook lowers his head slightly to hear her over the music and for a second you think that’s it, that you’ve seen enough.

Then his eyes lift and find yours across the crowded room.

Everything freezes. Well, aleast for you.

The girl is still sitting in his lap, one hand resting against his chest, still smiling as she talks to him, but Jungkook’s attention is fixed entirely on you.

He doesn’t seem surprised. Doesn’t seem guilty. Why would he? He just watches. The same way he always watches. For some reason, that hurts even more. Because he saw you, he knows exactly what you just witnessed and now he isn’t looking away.

Your stomach twists while humiliation crashes into you a second later, sharp and immediate, because the ache spreading through your chest shouldn’t exist.

You don’t want Jungkook. Right? You don’t care! At least that’s what you’ve spent the last week desperately trying to convince yourself.

So why does it feel like somebody reached inside your ribs and started twisting?

The girl says something else, but Jungkook doesn’t respond. His gaze never leaves yours, and that finally becomes too much.

You turn away so quickly you nearly collide with someone standing behind you before pushing through the crowd without so much as an apology. The stairs blur beneath your feet. The hallway stretches endlessly ahead of you before you open a door and peek inside.

The bedroom is empty.

At least that’s what you think when you slip inside and quietly shut the door behind you. The music downstairs immediately dulls into a distant vibration through the walls, leaving only darkness and the uneven sound of your own breathing.

Your hands are shaking. God, this is ridiculous. You press the heels of your palms against your eyes and squeeze them shut.

Jungkook can kiss whoever he wants, sit with whoever he wants, touch whoever he wants. None of it should matter. None of it should make your chest feel like somebody shoved broken glass between your ribs and left it there.

Another tear escapes before you can stop it.“Fuck.”

The word comes out weak and unsteady, making humiliation burn even hotter beneath your skin. You wipe angrily at your face, then again, and again, but the harder you try to stop crying, the worse it gets.

You hate this. You hate him. You hate yourself even more.

A floorboard creaks somewhere behind you and your entire body goes rigid. Then a voice drifts from the darkness. “Well, well, well.”

You spin around to find a guy sitting in the desk chair beside the window, one ankle resting lazily across his opposite knee as though he’s been there the entire time. Dark hair falls into his eyes, a crooked grin tugs at his mouth, and a red plastic cup dangles from his fingers.

The amusement on his face deepens when he sees your expression. “Damn,” he says with a soft laugh. “You look more disappointed than surprised.”

You immediately wipe beneath your eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t know someone was in here.”

“Clearly.”

His gaze drifts over your face. Not in a way that feels creepy, but in a way that makes you feel studied, like he’s fitting together pieces of a puzzle only he can see.

Then he lifts his cup slightly. “I almost gave up looking for you tonight, and suddenly the universe sends you right into my bedroom.”

You blink and when he turns his head you recognise him as your boyfriend’s best friend. “Levi?” you ask shakily.

His grin widens. He pushes away from the desk and tosses the red cup over his shoulder without looking. It sails across the room and lands perfectly inside the trash can.

“It’s me, alright.”

You quickly wipe at your cheeks. “Didn’t know this was your room. Sorry, I’ll go.”

You turn toward the door but hand closes around your wrist, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to stop you.

“No,” Levi says calmly. “I don’t think so.”

Your stomach tightens. Slowly, you look down at his hand before lifting your eyes back to his face- something has changed. The easy amusement is gone.

“What do you want?”

Levi ignores the question. Instead, he tilts his head slightly. “Where’s Marc?”

The question catches you off guard. “What?”

“Marc. Your boyfriend.”

Ex-boyfriend. The correction flashes through your head automatically but you don’t say it out loud. You never liked nor trusted Levi and you have no idea if Marc told him about your breakup…

You force a smile anyway. “Uhm… He’s sick.”

“Yeah?”

“A headache.”

Levi clicks his tongue. “Interesting.”

Your pulse skips. “Why?”

“Because when I talked to him earlier, he was driving to his parents’ house.” Levi watches your face carefully. “Said he needed some time at home.” Your stomach drops.

“Try again.” His voice remains light, almost pleasant. “And this time don’t fucking lie to me.”

You stare at him without answering and the smile slowly disappears from his face.

“See, that’s the thing I like about Marc.” He finally releases your wrist. “He’s a terrible liar.”

You rub the spot automatically.

“He called me last week.” A pause. “Told me you broke up with him.” Levi shrugs.

“He was nice about it, too.” The disgust in his voice is immediate. “Said you were stressed. Said exams were getting to you. Said you needed space.”

A humorless laugh slips from him. “Sweet, gullible guy.” You don’t like where this is going. Not even a little.

Levi’s eyes travel slowly across your face. “But we both know that’s not why you dumped him.”

“Excuse me?”

His smile returns, colder this time. “Come on.” You stare, Levi stares right back, then he snorts. “It’s because you’re a whore.”

The room goes silent. For a second your brain refuses to process what you just heard. “Excuse me?!”

“Thought I was pretty clear.”

Your chest rises sharply. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“A lot, probably.” He doesn’t even blink. “But that’s not really the important part right now.”

Every instinct in your body starts screaming:

Run.

Leave.

Get out.

Levi reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone before casually placing it on the desk between you.

“Do you know what I do for work?” You don’t answer. “Campus security.”

He chuckles at the confused look on your face. “We monitor cameras. Mostly because half the student population apparently can’t smoke weed without wandering into places they aren’t supposed to be.”

He shrugs. “The library’s a popular one.”

The blood drains from your face and Levi notices immediately. His smile widens. “There she is.”

No. No, no, no.

“Levi…”

“You like the library too.” His voice remains calm. “Just not for weed.” Your pulse begins pounding so hard it hurts.

“No,” he continues. “You had other priorities.” You take a step backward.

Levi doesn’t move. “Tell me.” His eyes never leave yours. “How long have you been sneaking around behind Marc’s back?”

Your throat closes. “It’s not…”

“Don’t.” The single word slices straight through your sentence. “Don’t insult me.” You freeze.

Levi leans the phone onto the desk.

“Because trust me, sweetheart, I’ve seen enough.” Then he taps on the display and it plays a video of you on your knees for Jungkook.

The room suddenly feels suffocating. Far too small.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. “What do you want?”

Finally. The question you’ve been trying not to ask and the question he’s been waiting for. Levi’s expression brightens instantly.

“Ah yes- there it is.” He takes a slow step closer. Then another. Nothing about it feels threatening, somehow that makes it worse. He’s comfortable, completely relaxed. Like he’s already won.

“You know,” he says thoughtfully, “it’s funny.”

Your jaw clenches. “Levi…”

“No, seriously.” He reaches toward you. A loose strand of hair slips through his fingers before you jerk away in disgust. His smile never falters. “One video can ruin a life now.” Your stomach drops.

“One upload.” A shrug. “One anonymous account.” Your breathing turns uneven. “Maybe it gets passed around campus. Maybe it doesn’t stop there.”

Another shrug. “Maybe somebody uploads it on Pornhub...”

You feel sick. “Stop it-”

“Maybe future employers find it.”

Your hands curl into fists. “Stop!”

“Maybe your family sees it.”

“Levi-”

“Maybe everybody gets to see exactly what kind of girl Marc was wasting his time on.”

The silence that follows feels deafening. Then, quietly, he continuous:

“Or…” The word hangs between you while Levi studies your face. “I could delete it…”

Your stomach twists- There it is. The real reason. “What do you want?” This time the question comes out sharper. Angrier.

Levi seems pleased. “Use your brain.”

You just stare at him while his smile slowly returns. Predatory. Fucking disgusting…

“I’m a reasonable guy.” The lie is so obvious it’s almost laughable. “You have until Sunday night.”

“To do what?”

“To make me a very attractive offer.”

Your pulse stumbles as Levi’s gaze flicks briefly over your face, then lower, before returning to your eyes. Understanding crashes into you immediately.

Disgust follows right behind it. “You’re fucking disgusting.”

“Yeah.” He sounds completely unbothered. “But unlike you, honey, I’m honest about it.”

You want to hit him. Really hit him. Instead, you just stand there shaking. Levi walks to the door and pulls it open. Music immediately floods back into the room, loud and overwhelming after the suffocating silence.

“You’ve got my number.” His smile widens one last time. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”

You don’t remember leaving the room.

One second Levi is standing in front of you with that disgusting smile on his face, his voice dripping with casual cruelty as he dangles your entire life between his fingers, and the next you’re forcing your way through the crowded house, shoulders colliding with strangers as music pounds through the walls hard enough to make your skull ache.

Your lungs refuse to pull in enough air- very breath feels too shallow. Too small.

You need to think. You need to get outside. You need to get as far away from that room as possible before the panic clawing its way up your throat finally wins.

Someone laughs somewhere nearby while another person bumps into your shoulder hard enough to nearly knock you off balance. The sharp scent of alcohol hangs thick in the air, mixed with sweat and perfume and overheated bodies, and suddenly the entire house feels suffocating.

Then you walk straight into someone.

A solid chest stops your momentum instantly, and strong hands close around your shoulders before you can stumble backward.

“Woah, woah, hold on, princess.” Jungkook. Of course it’s Jungkook.

For a second you simply stare at him. His face blurs around the edges, not because you’re drunk but because your pulse is pounding so violently that it drowns out everything else.

Jungkook’s expression shifts almost immediately. The irritation he wore earlier vanishes.

“Hey.” His grip loosens slightly, one hand sliding higher along your arm. “What happened?”

You try to answer but nothing comes out. The words die somewhere between your chest and your throat because suddenly Levi’s voice is back inside your head.

‘Maybe future employers find it.’

Maybe your family sees it.’

‘Maybe everybody gets to see exactly what kind of girl Marc was wasting his time on.’

Your stomach twists so violently it hurts. Jungkook says something else but you don’t hear a single word. All you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears.

You pull away from him before he can stop you and push through the crowd again, moving so quickly that you nearly lose your footing.

“Princess?” His voice follows you. You ignore it.

The downstairs bathroom appears at the end of the hallway and you barely manage to reach it before shoving the door open. The second you’re inside, your knees hit the floor.

Then you’re throwing up.

The alcohol. The panic. The disgust. Everything comes up at once.

Your hands grip the toilet seat so tightly your knuckles ache while your stomach heaves again, painfully emptying itself as tears burn behind your eyes.

The party continues beyond the walls. You can still hear the bass vibrating through the floorboards, hear muffled laughter and distant conversations, but closer than that is another sound. Someone’s watching. Waiting.

Jungkook. Of course he followed.

Another wave of nausea rolls through you and you squeeze your eyes shut. Humiliation settles over you almost immediately. Perfect.

Absolutely fucking perfect.

First blackmail. Then a panic attack. Now you’re kneeling on a stranger’s bathroom floor throwing up while your worst possible witness stands somewhere behind you. What a fantastic night.

A faucet turns on, the sound barely registers. A few seconds later something cold appears within your field of vision. You blink- a wet towel.

Jungkook is crouched beside you, not touching you, not crowding either. He’s simply there. His expression is impossible to read, which somehow unsettles you more than if he were making fun of you.

Because he should be smirking, he should be making some sarcastic comment. Should be asking whether seeing him with another girl finally short-circuited your brain. Instead he’s quiet. Observing. Thinking.

That familiar sharpness settles behind his eyes, the one you’ve always hated because it notices things nobody else does.

“You didn’t drink enough for this.” Your stomach drops- of course that’s the first thing he notices.

You turn your head. “Go away.”

Jungkook ignores the order without hesitation. His gaze drifts slowly across your face, taking in every detail: The smeared mascara. The tears you haven’t managed to wipe away. The tremor in your hands. The way you refuse to meet his eyes.

For several seconds he says nothing. Then, quietly enough that it almost gets lost beneath the distant music, he says, “This isn’t because of me.”

The words hit you so unexpectedly that your head snaps toward him. He’s already watching you, really watching.

And suddenly something changes. Not in you. In him. Because up until now he’d been annoyed. Jealous. Maybe even a little pleased. The kind of cruel satisfaction that comes from finally seeing you affected by him after weeks of pretending neither of you cared.

But that’s gone now and and something colder settles into its place. Something far sharper.

His eyes move over your face one more time, and for the first time all night you can practically see the moment the realization lands. You aren’t angry, or jealous. Also not heartbroken.

You’re scared.

And whatever put that look in your eyes…happened upstairs.

The pieces are shifting into place, one after another, and realization settles over him with frightening speed. Until now, he thought you ran because of the girl, because of the couch, because of him. Now he knows better.

His gaze drifts briefly toward the bathroom door, then toward the hallway beyond it, and finally toward the stairs leading upstairs to the exact place you disappeared to before coming back down looking like your entire world had collapsed.

Your stomach drops. No. Absolutely not.

Jungkook slowly rises to his feet. “The fuck happened up there?” You don’t answer.

Your pulse immediately spikes because if he goes upstairs, if he talks to Levi, if he finds out what happened, everything will fall apart. Panic crashes through you so violently that your vision blurs.

Jungkook takes another step toward the door, already investigating, already searching, already looking for something to blame.

“Who was up there?”

The question comes out low and controlled, which somehow makes it worse. You can practically feel the violence simmering beneath the surface, carefully leashed but very much alive.

“Jungkook…”

“Who.”

Your chest tightens until it hurts. The room suddenly feels too small, too hot, too suffocating.

You picture the footage. The cameras. The library. Levi’s smile. The possibility of everyone seeing it.

Your stomach lurches again as Jungkook reaches for the door and something inside you finally snaps.

“Please.” The word leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

Jungkook freezes instantly.

You barely realize you’ve moved until you feel the sleeve of his hoodie clenched tightly in your fist. Your hand is shaking so badly that the fabric trembles between your fingers, and when you glance down, you realize your entire body is trembling just as hard.

Slowly, Jungkook looks down at your hand before lifting his gaze back to your face. Your eyes immediately sting, humiliation burns through your chest, you don’t want him to see you like this.

You don’t want anyone to see you like this.

But the thought of being left alone right now feels so unbearable that it nearly hurts.

“Please don’t leave me alone.” The words come out small and broken, barely more than a whisper.

Silence fills the bathroom. The music outside suddenly feels miles away.

Jungkook doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. For a brief second you wonder if maybe you shouldn’t have said it, if maybe you should’ve just let him go and dealt with this alone like you always do.

He nods and crouches back down in front of you, his expression softening in a way that almost makes your throat ache. “Okay, yeah. I’m here.”

Something inside you finally cracks, enough to break you apart. A shaky breath leaves your lungs, and you hate the way tears immediately gather in your eyes again. You hate that he sees them. More than anything, you hate the overwhelming relief flooding through your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t ask another question, he doesn’t push for answers. He doesn’t demand explanations. He doesn’t even try to pry your fingers from his sleeve.

Instead, he simply settles down beside you on the bathroom floor, close enough to feel real, solid enough to feel safe. His arm slides around your shoulders.

Your eyes squeeze shut, the warmth nearly undoes you.

“Breathe.” His voice is low and steady. You try and fail. Then try again.

Jungkook’s hand moves slowly through your hair, repeating the motion over and over with endless patience. There is nothing possessive about it, nothing demanding. Every gentle pass is simply a silent reminder that he’s still here, that he hasn’t left, and that he isn’t going anywhere.

Eventually your breathing starts to even out. The shaking eases. The nausea settles enough that you stop feeling like you’re about to be sick.

Only then does Jungkook speak again. “I’m not leaving your side tonight.”

Under normal circumstances you would’ve argued immediately. You would’ve told him to mind his own business and go fuck himself. Tonight you don’t have the energy.

The realization seems to hit him too because his jaw tightens faintly before he pushes himself to his feet and holds out a hand.

“C’mon.”

You stare at it for a moment before finally taking it. Jungkook doesn’t let go until you’re standing.

The drive back to his apartment passes in complete silence. For once neither of you says anything.

The city lights blur beyond the windows while exhaustion settles deeper and deeper into your bones, and by the time you reach his building, you feel completely hollowed out.

Drained. Empty. Done.

Jungkook notices. He notices everything. At some point a hoodie appears in your hands. Then a glass of water. Then a blanket. You don’t even remember when he gave them to you.

The apartment feels strangely quiet compared to the chaos of the party. Safe. The realization should probably concern you. Instead it only makes your eyes burn.

You curl up at one end of the couch while Jungkook settles beside you, close enough that his knee occasionally brushes yours but far enough away that you don’t feel trapped.

For several minutes neither of you speaks, then your body betrays you. The next tremor hits without warning. Your hands start shaking again. A sharp breath catches in your throat.

And suddenly you’re right back in Levi’s bedroom.

Jungkook notices immediately. A quiet curse slips from him before one strong arm hooks around your waist and the other pulls the blanket higher around your shoulders. Before you can even think about protesting, he’s guiding you against his chest until your head settles beneath his chin.

His arms wrap around you completely. Warm. Solid. Unmovable.

You should pull away. You don’t.

His hand slides into your hair again, moving with the same slow patience as before, and eventually that steady rhythm begins to drown everything else out. The panic. The fear. The humiliation. Even Levi’s voice starts to fade into the background.

For the first time all week, your thoughts finally go quiet. Sleep creeps in gradually, wrapping around you like something warm and unavoidable, and the last thing you feel before drifting off is Jungkook’s fingers moving gently through your hair.

The last thing you hear is the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

And somewhere above you, long after you’ve fallen asleep, Jungkook lies awake staring at the dark ceiling of his apartment with his arms locked tightly around you.

Because somebody made you cry, made you panic. Scared you badly enough to beg him not to leave.

And he still doesn’t know who. Yet.

The first thing you notice is the silence.

Not the kind that makes your chest tighten or sends your thoughts spiraling into places you’d rather avoid, but something softer, gentler. The apartment is quiet in a way that feels warm instead of lonely, safe instead of suffocating, and for several sleepy seconds you remain curled beneath the blanket, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling while your brain slowly catches up with reality.

Then everything clicks into place:

Jungkook’s apartment. His bed. His hoodie. Embarrassment immediately crashes into you.

Your eyes squeeze shut as memories from last night resurface one after another, each one somehow worse than the last. You had a complete emotional breakdown in front of him. There had been tears, panic, shaking, and if that wasn’t humiliating enough, a vivid memory of grabbing onto him and begging him not to leave flashes through your mind, making you drag the blanket over your face with a muffled groan.

Fantastic.

Maybe spontaneous combustion is a real thing after all. You reluctantly peek toward the bedside clock and immediately regret it- 10:17 a.m.

Your brows knit together as you stare at the numbers, then stare again. The realization settles slowly enough that it almost doesn’t feel real.

You slept.

Not a few restless hours filled with tossing and turning. Not drifting in and out of consciousness while staring at the ceiling until sunrise. Not waking every twenty minutes with your heart racing. You actually slept an entire night.

No nightmares. No panic attacks. No waking up trembling and drenched in sweat.

The thought catches you off guard. Something uncomfortable tightens behind your ribs and suddenly your eyes sting for reasons you absolutely refuse to examine- that is enough emotional vulnerability for one morning.

Before your brain can betray you by getting sentimental, you force yourself upright and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

The apartment remains quiet as you make your way toward the bedroom door, cautiously peeking around the corner.

The sight waiting for you almost sends you retreating straight back inside: Jungkook is standing in the kitchen. Cooking.

Your brain genuinely requires a moment to process the image. Grey sweatpants hang low on his hips, a black t-shirt stretches across his shoulders, and his dark hair still looks slightly disheveled from sleep while one tattooed hand casually flips something in a frying pan.

The entire scene feels deeply unnatural- like spotting a tiger filing taxes.

As if sensing your presence immediately, Jungkook glances up and catches you spying from the hallway. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Good morning.”

You seriously consider backing away and pretending this never happened. Unfortunately, Jungkook notices that too.

“Don’t.”

You freeze and his expression turns knowingly suspicious. “I can literally see you thinking about it.”

Heat instantly creeps into your face. “I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You absolutely were.”

Narrowing your eyes, you lean farther around the doorway, only for Jungkook to point the spatula at you like a weapon.

“Come sit down before I take that hoodie back.”

Your hands immediately clutch the oversized sleeves tighter. The asshole laughs. Warm enough to be annoying.

“You look funny.”

“You gave it to me.”

“Yeah.” His gaze drifts over you briefly before a grin tugs at his mouth. “It’s cute.”

You hate the tiny smile threatening to appear on your own face. Hate it.

Several minutes later you’re seated at the kitchen island while Jungkook places a plate in front of you.

Eggs. Toast. Fresh fruits & vegetables. Coffee. You stare at the food, then at him, then back at the food again.

He raises an eyebrows. “What?”

“You cook?”

Jungkook looks personally offended. “The fuck does that mean?”

“You just don’t seem like the type.”

“The type to eat?”

“The type to own vegetables.”

His head tilts. “Wow.”

“I’m just saying.” you shrug and a tiny smile spreads on your face.

He lets out a snort. “You little shit-”

The corner of your mouth twitches despite yourself. Something soft flickers briefly across his face before disappearing almost as quickly as it arrived. The memory of last night settles quietly between the two of you. Neither of you mentions it. Neither of you seems entirely sure how.

The silence that follows isn’t awkward so much as careful, like both of you are circling around something fragile and important without quite knowing how to touch it without breaking it.

You focus on your coffee. Jungkook focuses on pretending he isn’t watching you.

For a little while everything almost feels normal. Almost.

Then your phone buzzes. The sound slices through the apartment with surgical precision. Your hand reaches for the phone before you can stop yourself.

The message makes you freeze. Levi.

It’s a photo- just one frame of blurry security footage. The library.

Your blood instantly turns to ice. Beneath the image sits a single text:

Good morning, love. Hope you slept well. Clock’s ticking.

The room seems to shrink around you- suddenly the sunlight suddenly feels too bright. The air feels too warm. Too thin. Too difficult to breathe.

You don’t even realize your breathing has changed until a familiar voice cuts through the panic.

“Princess.” You flinch. Jungkook is already watching you. Every trace of amusement from earlier has vanished. His eyes narrow immediately.

“What.”

You lock the phone. Far too fast, far too obviously. Jungkook notices.

“Nothing.” A beat passes, then another. Neither of you moves.

Slowly, Jungkook sets his coffee down. “That’s a lie.”

Your pulse spikes. “It’s not…”

“It is.”

Looking away is a mistake- the second you do it, something shifts in his expression. Now he knows. Maybe not what, but definitely enough.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and deliberate, the kind Jungkook weaponizes when he’s waiting for someone to talk themselves into a corner.

You stare stubbornly at the countertop. He stares stubbornly at you. Eventually a quiet sigh leaves him before his chair scrapes softly against the floor.

You refuse to look up. At least until a large hand reaches over and gently lifts the phone from beside your plate. Your head snaps upward immediately.

“Jungkook-” The words die before they fully leave your mouth.

He doesn’t seem angry… he seems concerned. And somehow that feels infinitely worse. His gaze moves from the locked screen to your face, then down to your trembling hands before returning to the phone again, studying everything with the same careful focus he brings to problems he intends to solve.

For several long seconds he says nothing at all. Then he leans back against the counter and folds his arms across his chest. His eyes never leave yours.

“Okay.” Your stomach twists at the low, dangerous sound of his voice. The silent threat underneath it. “Enough, princess.”

The softness doesn’t disappear completely, it just shifts. Hardens slightly, enough to reveal the steel underneath. Enough to remind you exactly who Jungkook is when somebody he cares about gets hurt.

Tilting his head, he studies you for another moment before asking the question so casually it almost sounds ridiculous.

“Who do I have to kill?”

➻ taglist for stupid little girl

@cherricherryy @sacredscourgeprototype @jeonette @lachimolalajeon @bangtans-momma @muniing @curiousswordarcade @barbie-girl84 @İjkxoxx @sierrab234 @jendeuk123 @eeeeeeeruab @bebesnyia7 @mydecalcomania @jeonggukiebts @lilbitcherries @evtrack @koonosekisser @asther1389 @angelsdecalcomania @thatbmar @sassywildbunny @darklove2020 @tejal802002 @evtrack @ijanajk @naniis18 @seokmyballs @mar-lo-pap @prodajeon @sugadclaws @vhyunjinverse @tojiswifeyy @rjsmochii @avawants2havefun @yoonclaire @rkive994 @pinkpinkpinkkkk @carebearkook @akilovescake @jeongguks-posts @ceyqzx @jkgivinsleeplessnite @babydoll-143 @bjoriis @jaebae420 @vjoon9495 @sweetcloudie @loveforchangbin @polnaraffsrack @kelsyx33 @jelly16 @sierrakook @thajazzy-1 @sophiasnzz @jjanajk @hubbytaehyung @kvttns @svitozz

[if you want to be added to the taglist, please leave a comment below]

The lecture hall is already half full by the time you arrive, conversations blending together beneath the low hum of fluorescent lights while students shuffle through notes and half-finished coffees like exhausted zombies. Normally you’d sit somewhere near the middle with your friends and mentally prepare yourself for two hours of academic torture.

Unfortunately, Jungkook is already there. Of course he is.

He’s sitting near the back row with one leg stretched lazily beneath the desk, black hoodie sleeves pushed up his forearms while he scrolls through his phone like he owns the entire fucking room. A few people glance toward him when they walk in, some nodding cautiously, others immediately avoiding eye contact altogether.

Jeon Jungkook has that effect on people.

Your stomach tightens slightly when his eyes briefly flick toward you before returning right back to his phone again like he couldn’t care less.

Asshole.

You immediately sit with your friends several rows away from him. The professor starts discussing narrative structure and eventually opens the floor for interpretation. After a brief silence, you answer confidently, explaining your theory while gesturing lightly with your pen.

“I think the protagonist’s unreliability is intentional,” you explain. “The contradictions in her narration aren’t flaws in the writing. They’re there to show how distorted her perspective became over time.”

Several students nod along thoughtfully. The professor looks pleased. “Exactly. Good observation.”

Then:

“That theory’s garbage.”

The room immediately goes quiet.

Your head snaps toward the back row where Jungkook sits slouched in his chair, spinning a pen lazily between tattooed fingers while staring at you with complete disinterest.

The professor sighs already. “Mr. Jeon…”

“No seriously,” Jungkook interrupts casually. “That makes absolutely no fucking sense.”

Heat flashes through your body instantly. “Maybe because you weren’t listening,” you shoot back.

A few students visibly tense. Nobody likes when people fight with Jungkook publicly because it almost always turns ugly.

Unfortunately for everyone involved… you genuinely don’t care anymore.

Jungkook leans back slightly in his chair, eyes dragging slowly over your face before one corner of his mouth lifts.

“No, princess,” he says calmly. “I was listening. That’s exactly the fucking problem.”

The nickname lands like a grenade in the middle of the classroom. Several heads immediately turn toward the two of you.

Your face burns instantly but you force yourself to ignore it.

“If you actually understood the material,” you reply sharply, “you’d realize unreliable narration doesn’t require logical consistency. That’s literally the point.”

Jungkook snorts quietly through his nose.

“Yeah? And if you actually understood character writing, you’d realize there’s a difference between unreliable and badly constructed.”

A few quiet “oh shit” reactions spread through the room.

You cross your arms immediately. “It’s called layered characterization.”

“No,” Jungkook says flatly. “It’s called lazy writing disguised as depth because people like you overanalyze every fucking thing to sound intellectual.”

The room erupts into nervous laughter.

“Oh my god,” you scoff incredulously. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you sound pretentious as hell.”

“At least I can form an argument without swearing every second sentence.”

That earns a low amused laugh from him.

“Cute,” he drawls lazily. “You think sounding polite automatically makes your argument smarter.”

Your jaw tightens instantly. “It’s called basic academic professionalism.”

“It’s called kissing professors’ asses.”

More laughter breaks out across the lecture hall while the professor looks moments away from developing a migraine.

You glare at Jungkook across the room. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you sound stupid,” he replies flatly before tilting his head slightly. “Actually scratch that. Your whole argument sounds like something written at three in the morning during a mental breakdown.”

Several people choke on laughter immediately.

“Oh fuck you.”

Jungkook just grins. “Nah, you’re getting emotional now, princess.”

The nickname hits even harder this time because he says it so casually, like he genuinely doesn’t care that thirty people are listening to this conversation right now.

Your face burns hotter.

“You don’t even have an actual counterargument,” you snap. “You’re just insulting me because your ego can’t handle someone disagreeing with you publicly.”

That finally gets a reaction out of him. It’s not anger, it’s something worse…

Jungkook’s eyes narrow slightly while he slowly lowers the pen onto the desk beside him. The entire room seems to notice the shift immediately.

“You think this is about ego?” he asks quietly.

“Well it’s definitely not about intelligence.”

A few students audibly gasp. The professor looks ready to physically intervene.

Jungkook stares at you for a long second before leaning back again, completely relaxed despite the dangerous look settling into his expression.

Then his gaze drifts slowly over you once. Deliberately.

“Is there actually something behind those pretty eyes,” he asks calmly, “or are you just a nice pair of tits?”

The room goes dead silent for a mere second then: Audible gasps. Nervous laughter. A horrified “what the fuck?” somewhere near the front row.

A few people look genuinely offended while others stare at you wide-eyed waiting for your reaction, but nobody openly tells Jungkook off. Nobody wants to get on Jeon Jungkook’s bad side.

Heat crashes through your body so violently you nearly stand up. “You absolute fucking asshole-”

Jungkook immediately smirks then clicks his tongue softly. “Careful.”

The single word slides beneath your skin like a warning and the slight narrowing of his eyes makes your pulse stutter because suddenly you remember exactly who you’re talking to.

Exactly what happened in his apartment and how dangerous that calm look on his face actually is.

“Okay,” the professor interrupts quickly before things escalate any further. “Please keep the discussion respectful and civilized.”

Jungkook doesn’t even look remotely sorry.

Meanwhile you’re still staring at him across the lecture hall, chest heaving slightly while he lazily picks his pen back up like publicly humiliating you was just a casual little hobby to him.

And somehow the worst part? When your eyes accidentally lock again for half a second, the asshole smirks.

By lunchtime, apparently the entire campus has already heard about what happened.

You sit at one of the outside tables with your friends while they aggressively attempt to comfort you.

“He’s just an asshole,” one of them says immediately. “Ignore him.”

“Seriously,” another agrees. “He just wants to get under your skin.”

“Well congratulations,” you mutter while stabbing aggressively at your food. “Mission accomplished.”

Your friends laugh softly, trying to lighten the mood, but before anyone can continue the conversation, a shadow suddenly falls across the table.

Then Jungkook casually drops into the empty seat beside you. The entire table freezes- one of your friends nearly chokes on her drink. Jungkook completely ignores all of them.

“What do you want?” you ask flatly, not even looking up from your food.

“We have to study at your place tonight,” he replies calmly like he didn’t just publicly degrade you in front of an entire lecture hall two hours ago.

Your eyebrows pull together instantly. “…why?”

“Because.”

You open your mouth to argue again but then suddenly his hand lands against your thigh beneath the table.

You nearly jerk but nobody else seems to notice. From the outside, Jungkook looks completely relaxed, one arm stretched lazily across the back of his chair while he stares ahead like nothing’s happening.

Meanwhile beneath the table, his fingers squeeze slowly into the soft flesh of your thigh hard enough to make your pulse jump.

Possessive. Deliberate. Like he’s marking you with his fingertips.

Your breathing turns uneven immediately and Jungkook notices from the tiny glance he gives you before the corner of his mouth lifts slightly.

Then the asshole stands up again completely casually. “See ya later, princess.”

And just like that, he walks away.

The entire table stares after him in complete silence before all eyes slowly turn toward you instead.

“…what the fuck?” one of your friends finally blurts out.

You just stare down at your tray for a second before letting out a long exhausted sigh.

“Yeah,” you mutter weakly. “I don’t even know anymore.”

Late afternoon sunlight spills gold across campus, warm enough to make the concrete shimmer while groups of students drift between buildings in loud exhausted clusters.

Somewhere nearby music crackles softly from someone’s speaker and the whole courtyard carries that lazy end-of-day atmosphere where nobody’s really paying attention anymore.

Nobody except Jungkook.

He’s sitting outside one of the main buildings with a cigarette balanced between his fingers, one arm stretched lazily across the back of the bench while his friends talk around him about assignments and weekend plans he couldn’t care less about. Every now and then he hums absently like he’s listening, but his attention is somewhere else entirely the second you walk into view.

It locks onto you instantly- like instinct.

You’re crossing the courtyard alone, bag hanging loosely from one shoulder, sunlight catches against your face and for a second Jungkook simply watches you move through the crowd, calm and unreadable while smoke curls slowly from his lips.

Then your boyfriend appears behind you and Jungkook goes completely still.

He watches the guy wrap both arms around your waist from behind, pulling you back lightly against his chest, and your entire face softens immediately. The laugh that leaves you is quiet but real, warm enough to make something dark settle low inside Jungkook’s chest while he stares from across the courtyard with frightening stillness.

Your boyfriend turns you around inside his arms and kisses you like he’s done it a thousand times before, casual and affectionate and completely unaware that someone else is watching every second of it with predatory focus.

Technically, there’s nothing wrong with this. That’s your boyfriend.

Those are his hands on your waist. His lips against yours. His soft smile making you laugh again when he whispers something near your ear.

And yet the moment you turn your head and accidentally meet Jungkook’s eyes across the courtyard, your entire body reacts like you just got caught cheating.

The smile disappears from your face instantly. Not even slowly, it’s just gone. Like your body recognizes danger before your brain catches up.

Jungkook notices it immediately.

From this distance, he can practically see the panic bloom beneath your skin while your boyfriend keeps talking softly beside you, oblivious to the way your pulse suddenly starts racing. Jungkook takes another slow drag from his cigarette without looking away once, his gaze heavy enough to make your chest tighten painfully even from across the courtyard.

He doesn’t wave. Doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t move at all. That’s what makes it worse.

Because he looks completely calm sitting there with smoke curling lazily around him while something sharp and possessive settles behind his eyes the longer he watches your boyfriend touch you.

Your boyfriend’s hand brushes your waist again and suddenly it feels wrong. Not because it is.

But because Jungkook is watching.

That horrifying realization crashes through you all at once and heat floods your body so fast it almost makes you dizzy. Guilt coils tightly beneath your ribs even though you technically did nothing wrong, but the problem is that somewhere along the way Jungkook already buried himself so deeply beneath your skin that your body reacts to him before logic even gets the chance.

Across the courtyard, the corner of his mouth slowly pulls upward.

It’s not a smile. Not really… Something worse. Something knowing…

Your stomach drops so hard it almost hurts. Because he sees it. He sees the guilt. The panic.

The way your body stiffens inside another man’s arms while staring directly at him like a deer frozen beneath a predator’s gaze.

And then, without breaking eye contact once, Jungkook slowly drags his tongue across his lower lip.

The gesture is small. Lazy.

But it sends a violent rush of heat through your entire body anyway. You swallow hard.

Jungkook notices that too. Of course he fucking does.

Your boyfriend finally pauses mid-sentence, brows pulling together slightly while brushing your arm.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You okay?” The words barely even register.

Because all you can focus on is Jungkook sitting across the courtyard looking at you like he already knows exactly what’s happening inside your head, exactly how guilty you feel right now, exactly how badly your pulse spikes every time his eyes drag over you.

And the most terrifying part? He looks pleased. Not jealous. Not angry. Possessive.

Like he’s watching someone else touch something that already belongs to him.

The sorority house feels unusually warm compared to the cold evening outside. Soft yellow lights filling the living room while some random reality show plays quietly in the background. You’re curled up on the couch between Minji and Soomin with your legs tucked beneath a blanket, phone resting against your stomach while your entire body still feels tight from everything that happened today.

Honestly, ‘tight’ might be an understatement. Your nervous system has been held hostage by Jeon Jungkook since approximately nine in the morning.

The classroom argument keeps replaying in your head against your will, followed immediately by the memory of him watching you across the courtyard afterward, cigarette between his fingers while your boyfriend kissed you completely unaware.

Just thinking about that goddamn smirk again makes heat crawl uncomfortably up your neck.

“You look traumatized,” Minji says finally, glancing over from the other side of the couch.

“I might actually be,” you mumble dramatically before dragging both hands down your face. “I genuinely don’t know if i’ll survive Jeon Jungkook today.”

That immediately earns a snort from Soomin. “Well then reschedule,” she says simply. “Tell him you have a headache or something.”

You roll your eyes instantly. “Yeah, because he’s definitely gonna believe that.” Still… Your gaze slowly drifts toward your phone.

Minji notices immediately. “Oh my god. You’re considering it.”

“No I’m not.”

“You literally are.”

You stare at the screen for another few seconds before finally sighing dramatically and unlocking your phone anyway.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But when this fails horribly, I want both of you to remember this moment.”

Soomin grins. “Yasss. Lie to that man.”

You quickly type out the message before you can overthink it.

you: migraine. can’t study tonight.

The reply comes so fast it almost feels aggressive.

jungkook: cute excuse. door better be unlocked when i get there.

Your jaw drops. “Oh my god,” you whisper in disbelief. “What the fuck is actually wrong with him?”

Minji immediately grabs for the phone. “LET ME SEE.”

You hold it away dramatically while glaring at the screen. “He’s such an asshole.”

Then, fueled entirely by irritation and poor decision making, you type back:

you: fuck off. i got a migraine fr and going to bed early. we’re rescheduling.

And before he can answer? You turn your phone off completely.

The girls immediately erupt beside you.

“AS YOU SHOULD!"

“Stand your ground, queen.”

A laugh escapes you despite yourself and for the first time all day, you actually feel slightly victorious. Maybe Jungkook finally pushed too far, maybe you’re finally growing a backbone.

Or maybe you’re just delusional.

Either way, you ride the confidence upstairs when you go to your room later, changing into comfortable pajamas before climbing into bed with your laptop balanced against your legs. Rain taps softly against the windows outside while Netflix loads quietly across the screen and slowly, little by little, your shoulders finally start relaxing.

See? Nothing happened.

Jungkook’s not here. The world didn’t end.

Everything’s fi-

tap.

You freeze. The sound is soft enough that you almost convince yourself you imagined it.

Then another tap comes a few seconds later. You pause your show while your heartbeat suddenly starts climbing.

Slowly, confused, your eyes drift toward the window andyour soul nearly leaves your body.

Jungkook crouches outside your second-story window with a cigarette between his lips, dark hoodie pulled over his head while rain dampens the edges of his hair. One hand rests casually inside his pocket and the second your eyes meet through the glass, he tilts his head slightly.

Like this is completely normal behavior.

Every single thought inside your brain evaporates instantly. There’s a terrifying mix of fear and heat rushing through your body so violently it almost makes you dizzy because what the actual fuck is he doing here?

Jungkook taps the glass once more before speaking through the window, voice low and calm enough to make it worse somehow.

“Open the window.”

You don’t move. You’re still sitting frozen in bed staring at him like prey spotting a predator too late.

Jungkook watches your expression carefully before taking a slow drag from his cigarette.

Then, just as calm: “Open the fucking window or I’m gonna break it.”

No anger nor a raised voice. Which somehow makes the threat feel completely real. Your pulse goes feral.

Slowly, almost mechanically, you push yourself out of bed and walk toward the window while Jungkook watches your every movement through the glass. The second you unlock it and slide it open, cold air rushes into the room together with cigarette smoke and rain.

And then he climbs inside. Like he belongs there.

Instinctively, you back away the moment his shoes hit the floor while your heart pounds violently against your ribs, but Jungkook only straightens calmly before pulling the cigarette from his lips and looking at you with that same terrifying composure he always has. He takes another drag before flicking the cigarette through the window.

“You turned your phone off,” he says simply.

Like that explains everything. He keeps looking at you like he already knows exactly what you’re thinking.

That’s the worst part.

Not the fact he climbed through your window. Not the rain still dripping faintly from the edges of his hoodie onto your bedroom floor. Not even the cigarette smoke slowly filling the room while your pulse spirals further and further out of control.

It’s the way he watches you: Calm. Patient. Completely aware.

Like he can see every panicked thought flickering behind your eyes before you even act on it.

“You know what’s funny?” he murmurs quietly while taking another slow step toward you. “You spent all day testing my fucking patience and now you look surprised I showed up.”

Your breathing turns uneven immediately.

“I didn’t test anything,” you argue weakly while instinctively backing away from him again.

Jungkook just hums beneath his breath.

“No?” Another step forward. “Calling me an asshole in front of an entire lecture hall wasn’t testing me?”

Heat flashes across your face. You keep moving backward slowly while he advances just as steadily, his gaze locked onto you with terrifying focus.

“Lying just to avoid me? Then telling me to fuck off over text?” he continues calmly. “Turning your phone off after I told you I was coming?”

Your legs hit the edge of the bed suddenly and you nearly stumble backward onto the mattress before catching yourself at the last second. Jungkook notices immediately, eyes flicking downward briefly before a smirk slowly pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, now it’s sinking in…,” he murmurs softly. “Starting to realize this might’ve been a bad idea.”

Instead of staying cornered against the bed, you quickly move around it, keeping distance between the two of you while your heart pounds harder and harder inside your chest. Jungkook watches the movement with obvious amusement.

“You’re dramatic,” you mutter, trying desperately to sound unaffected.

“Yeah?” His head tilts slightly. “Then why do you keep running from me?”

Because every instinct inside your body is screaming at you to. The realization alone makes panic and heat mix together so violently it leaves you dizzy.

Slowly, carefully, you start backing toward the bedroom door instead and Jungkook notices instantly. A quiet laugh leaves him while he watches your eyes flick nervously between him and the exit.

“Seriously?” he chuckles softly. “You really think you’re faster than me?”

Your breath hitches and for one tiny second you hesitate before you run for the door anyway.

Your fingers barely brush the handle before Jungkook is suddenly there, large hand slamming flat against the wood above it hard enough to make you gasp. The door rattles sharply beneath the impact and before you can even process how fast he moved, his other hand calmly reaches down and twists the lock into place.

Click.

The sound echoes through the room like a gunshot.

Your pulse goes feral. “Jungkook-”

You try slipping past him immediately, panic hitting hard enough now that all you can think is 'window window window’, but the second you turn, his hand catches your wrist effortlessly.

Then suddenly your back slams against his chest. A startled yelp escapes you before his large hand immediately covers your mouth, pulling you tighter against him while your heart nearly explodes out of your ribs.

“Shhh…” he murmurs softly against your ear. The sound sends a violent shiver down your spine.

Everything about him feels overwhelming like this. The warmth of his body pressed firmly against yours, the smell of rain and smoke clinging to his hoodie, the way his chest rises slowly behind you while yours heaves uncontrollably.

And somehow the calmness in him only makes your panic worse.

“You’re gonna wake the whole fucking house,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against your ear now.

Your fingers instinctively grip his wrist while your breathing turns shallow beneath his hand. Jungkook notices every second of it.

A low chuckle vibrates against the side of your neck before his teeth graze your earlobe softly enough to make your knees nearly give out beneath you.

“Are you scared of me?” he asks quietly.

The question wraps around your throat instantly because the answer is complicated- you are scared. Not of him hurting you. Not truly. But scared of what happens to you around him.

Scared of how quickly your body folds every single time he corners you like this. Scared of the heat flooding through you right now despite the adrenaline making your pulse shake violently. Scared of the fact that even now, pinned against him with his hand over your mouth and the bedroom door locked behind you… you still don’t want him to stop.

A small sound escapes you before you can help it. Half whine, half something else entirely. Jungkook goes very still behind you for half a second, then he laughs quietly.

It’s not loud, not even cruel. But satisfied.

“Good,” he murmurs softly against your ear while his grip tightens just slightly around your wrist. “You fucking should be.”

A sudden knock against the bedroom door cuts through the tension so sharply that your entire body jolts.

“Hey, babe?” Soomin’s voice comes through the wood a second later, slightly muffled. “Are you okay? We heard a really loud noise.”

Pure panic flashes through you instantly. Jungkook feels it.

A quiet chuckle vibrates against the side of your neck while his hand still covers your mouth, your back pressed tightly against his chest as rain taps softly outside the open window behind you.

Then his lips brush your ear again.

“Tell her you’re fine,” he murmurs softly. “Tell her you’re just a stupid, clumsy thing and something fell down.”

Heat crashes through your body at the words, humiliation and arousal twisting together so violently it leaves your head spinning. Before you can even react, his hand slowly slides away from your mouth and down your throat instead, fingers wrapping firmly around it.

Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he’s still controlling this. You swallow hard beneath his grip while your pulse pounds wildly.

“I’m okay, Soomin,” you call out finally, praying your voice sounds normal. “Just… clumsy. My laptop fell from the bed.”

Silence follows for a second. Then:

“Okay…” Soomin says slowly. “Well, it sounded really loud.”

Jungkook’s fingers tighten slightly against your throat. “Lie better,” he whispers calmly into your ear. A shiver runs violently through you.

Then suddenly he starts guiding you toward the door, one hand still wrapped around your throat while the other settles briefly against your waist.

“Open it.”

Your stomach twists.

Slowly, nervously, you unlock the door and pull it open just enough to peek outside while Jungkook slips silently behind it, completely hidden from view.

Soomin immediately raises her eyebrows the second she sees your face.

“Oh my god,” she says slowly. “You look… I don’t know.” Her eyes narrow slightly. “Your face is completely flushed.”

You let out one slow breath while your heartbeat threatens to explode.

“Caught me,” you mumble awkwardly. “I was actually, uhm…” You vaguely point toward the bed behind you.

Soomin’s eyes widen instantly. “Oh my god,” she gasps. “You were having special alone time and I interrupted?” Heat floods your face for real this time.

“God, I’m so sorry!” She quickly holds her hands up.

“Yeah…” you laugh weakly, cheeks burning. “I, uh… fell from the bed.”

“So that’s why it sounded like someone died,” Soomin snorts before grinning suddenly. “Damn. That intense, huh? You need to tell me your secrets next time.”

Behind the door, you can feel Jungkook shifting and you swallow nervously. Soomin completely misses it.

“Well,” she continues with a wink, “have fun, babe. I’ll tell the others it was the washing machine or something.”

“Thanks.”

“Love you!”

“Bye.”

You slowly close the door again, pulse still racing violently, and the second the latch clicks shut, Jungkook’s hand immediately comes into view beside you.

Click.

He locks the door again.

The sound echoes through the room while you remain frozen against the wood, breathing unevenly as Jungkook steps back into view.

A slow smirk spreads across his face.

“Some special alone time, huh?” he murmurs, amusement dripping from every word. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

Heat burns across your face instantly.

Jungkook’s eyes drag slowly over your expression before he steps closer again, one hand settling beside your head against the door while the other remains loosely around your throat.

“You really are a little slut.”

The word hits exactly where he wants it to.

Your eyes flash immediately and Jungkook catches the reaction in real time, sees the anger flare behind your expression, sees the way your body tenses like you want to shove him away or curse him out again.

And then the asshole smirks.

“Do it,” he murmurs softly, lips dangerously close to yours now. “I dare you.”

The second the word leaves his mouth, Jungkook sees it hit you. Not the anger first or the embarrassment.

No… something way worse.

Your breath catches sharply while your entire body goes tense beneath his hand and for half a second you look genuinely offended, lips parting immediately like you’re about to snap back at him again.

But then nothing comes out and Jungkook notices that too. A slow smile spreads across his face while his thumb drags lightly against the side of your throat, eyes locked onto yours with terrifying focus.

“There it is,” he murmurs softly. “That little look again.”

Heat burns straight through you. “Shut up.”

The words come out weak, almost breathless. Jungkook’s expression darkens instantly at that.

“Oh,” he says quietly, almost amused now. “That word got to you, huh?”

Your stomach twists violently. “No it didn’t.”

“Liar.”

He steps even closer until your back presses fully against the locked door behind you, one hand planted beside your head while the other stays loosely around your throat. His eyes drag slowly across your face before dropping briefly to your mouth.

Then lower.

Watching the way your thighs instinctively press together again. A rough chuckle leaves him immediately.

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. “You really do like this shit.”

Humiliation crashes through you all over again. “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re standing here letting me call you dirty names while you melt over it.” His head tilts slightly. “Interesting little situation you got yourself into, princess.”

Your pulse pounds harder and harder while he keeps looking at you like he’s slowly peeling every layer off you one by one.

Then suddenly his expression shifts into something mocking.

“What did your sweet boyfriend say to you earlier that made you laugh like that, huh?”

The question catches you completely off guard. A fake pout tugs at his lips while he leans down closer, eyes never leaving yours.

“Was he all sweet with you?” he asks softly, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Telling you cute little things while you smiled up at him?”

Heat floods your face because yes- He was.Your boyfriend was sweet. Gentle. Affectionate.

And somehow standing here now with Jungkook pressed against you, cigarette smell clinging to his clothes while his hand grips your throat possessively, that memory only makes your stomach twist harder.

Jungkook sees the realization happen in real time. The smirk on his face sharpens immediately.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Thought so.”

His thumb presses slightly higher beneath your jaw while his eyes darken.

“What do you think he’d say if he knew I was in your room right now?” he asks quietly.

Your breathing turns uneven instantly. Jungkook leans down until his lips brush barely against yours.

“What would he say,” he murmurs softly, “if he knew I’m standing here calling you my little whore…” Your breath catches sharply.

Jungkook’s tongue drags slowly across your lower lip. Then he pulls back just enough to whisper:

“…about to fuck you dumb?”

The words nearly destroy you.

Heat crashes through your body so violently your knees almost give out and Jungkook notices every second of it, sees the exact moment your resolve completely starts crumbling beneath him.

Because the worst part? You’ve thought about it too. Late at night. Alone in bed.

Replaying every filthy thing he’s whispered to you so far while imagining exactly what it would feel like if he finally stopped teasing and actually touched you the way he keeps promising he will.

And judging by the dark look settling deeper into Jungkook’s eyes… he knows.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly while staring at your face. “You’ve imagined it already, haven’t you?” You hate that your silence gives you away.

Jungkook laughs softly beneath his breath before leaning down once more, mouth brushing teasingly against yours again like he’s about to kiss you properly this time.

But instead he just licks slowly across your lips once more…

…and pulls away.

The loss of contact feels almost painful. You stare at him in disbelief while he casually steps backward toward your bed, eyes never leaving yours for even a second. Completely calm. Completely confident.

Like he already knows exactly what you’re going to do next.

Jungkook drops onto the edge of the mattress slowly before spreading his legs slightly, tattooed hand resting lazily against his thigh while he looks up at you with smoke-dark eyes.

Then he pats his lap once. “Sit on your throne, princess.”

Your stomach flips. Because somehow that’s the part that affects you most: Not the degrading words or the threats. Not even him climbing through your goddamn window.

It’s this- The terrifying ease of the command. The way he says it like your place is already there. Already decided.

And horrifyingly enough… your body moves before your brain can catch up.

Jungkook watches you cross the room toward him with something dark and satisfied settling behind his expression, eyes dragging slowly over your body while you finally stop between his legs.

Then, without a single word of protest, you sink down into his lap again.

Exactly where he wanted you.

Jungkook’s hands settle against your waist the second you sit in his lap, fingers spreading slowly like he’s memorizing the shape of you there. The room feels unbearably warm now, rain still tapping softly against the windows while your pulse pounds harder with every second he keeps looking at you without moving.

And god, the way he’s looking at you… Like he already won.

Your eyes drift toward his lips almost automatically, still slightly swollen from the cigarette pressed between them earlier, and for one dangerous second you think he’s finally going to kiss you properly.

But he doesn’t. He just sits there watching you. Waiting.

The intensity of it makes your stomach twist violently because suddenly you realize exactly what he’s doing. Jungkook wants you to choose this. Wants you to cross the line yourself so there’s no pretending afterward, no acting like he forced you into something you didn’t secretly crave from the start.

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth when he sees the realization hit. Then quietly, voice rough enough to send heat rushing straight through you:

“If you want something…” His hands tighten slightly against your waist. “…take it yourself.”

You blink at him for a second, breath uneven, brain struggling to catch up while his eyes stay locked onto yours with terrifying patience. Then you understand.

And suddenly you’re nervous again.

Which is ridiculous considering everything that already happened between the two of you, but somehow this feels different. More dangerous somehow. Because now he’s waiting for you to do it first.

To prove him right.

Slowly, almost shyly, you lean forward.

Your fingers curl against his shoulders first before sliding higher toward his neck, brushing through the damp strands of his hair while your lips finally meet his.

Soft. Careful. Tentative enough that it almost feels sweet. And Jungkook lets you.

He doesn’t take control immediately. Doesn’t grab your face or pull you closer. He just sits there beneath you while you kiss him first, hands still firm against your waist as if he’s letting you figure this out on your own.

The realization alone nearly melts you. So you kiss him again, longer this time. Your fingers tighten in his hair while confidence slowly starts replacing the hesitation and Jungkook finally reacts, a low groan vibrating against your mouth the second your lips part slightly for him.

The sound destroys whatever self-control you had left. Heat crashes through your body while you kiss him harder now, your hands sliding fully into his hair as his grip on your waist suddenly tightens enough to pull a gasp from you.

That’s all it takes.

One second the kiss feels slow and teasing and the next it turns messy almost instantly, Jungkook finally kissing you back with all the intensity he’d been holding back until now.

More tongue. More teeth. More heat.

His hand slides up your spine before gripping the back of your neck, holding you exactly where he wants you while your mouths move together desperately enough that neither of you can breathe properly anymore. The wet sounds of kissing fill the room together with uneven breathing and quiet curses slipping from Jungkook every time you tug at his hair.

“Fuck…” he groans against your lips when your hips shift instinctively against him. The sound goes straight through you.

Jungkook kisses like he does everything else, controlled right until the moment he suddenly isn’t. One second he’s calm and composed and the next his teeth catch your lower lip hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth while his fingers dig possessively into your waist. And somehow that only makes you kiss him harder.

Saliva glistens between your mouths every time he pulls back barely an inch before crashing back into you again, messy and hungry now while your fingers stay tangled tightly in his hair. Jungkook moans quietly when you tug harder and the sound nearly drives you insane because it’s the first time he’s sounded genuinely affected tonight.

Not smug or teasing just genuinely gone.

His forehead presses briefly against yours while both of you struggle for air, but even then he doesn’t let you get far. His mouth keeps brushing against yours between breaths, tongue dragging slowly along your lower lip again before he mutters lowly:

“There’s my princess…” And this time the words don’t sound mocking at all. They sound possessive. Jungkook kisses you like he’s trying to drag every reaction out of your body at once.

Your fingers stay tangled tightly in his damp hair while his hands grip your waist hard enough to keep you completely pinned against him, every messy slide of his mouth against yours making your head spin worse and worse.

The room feels overheated now, thick with smoke and tension and the quiet wet sounds of kissing while your breathing turns more uneven every second he keeps pulling those desperate little noises from you.

A low groan leaves him when your hips shift instinctively in his lap again.

“Fuck…” he murmurs against your mouth before dragging his lips slowly along yours once more. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby…”

The words hit straight through you. A soft moan escapes before you can stop it and Jungkook immediately swallows the sound with another rough kiss, tongue brushing against yours while his hand slides higher up your back possessively.

Then suddenly… he pulls back slightly. Just enough that his lips still ghost against yours while both of you struggle for air.

And then, sweetly enough to make it worse, he whispers:

“But first…” His thumb brushes slowly along your waist. “…I’m gonna punish the shit out of you for today.”

Your eyes snap open instantly. The blood in your veins practically freezes. Jungkook sees the exact second the realization hits and the corner of his mouth twitches upward immediately.

Because he means it. Oh god. He actually means it.

Before you can even process what the hell that’s supposed to mean, Jungkook kisses you again hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs while one arm suddenly hooks around your waist.

Then the world flips.

A startled gasp tears from you when he throws you backward onto the mattress, your body bouncing slightly against the bed hard enough to knock the air straight out of your chest.

Jungkook climbs over you immediately. Terrifyingly composed despite the fact he was just kissing you like he’d lost his mind thirty seconds ago.

“Jungkook, I-”

“What?” he interrupts instantly, amusement dripping from every word while he settles between your legs. “You thought all’s good now?” A low chuckle leaves him. “Thought I’d just overlook everything?”

Heat flashes through you while your pulse starts climbing all over again.

“Cute.” The mocking tone nearly kills you.

Instinctively you try scooting backward across the mattress, some survival instinct finally kicking back in now that he’s towering over you like this, but Jungkook just grabs both your ankles effortlessly before dragging you right back toward him again.

The movement pulls a shocked sound from your throat. Jungkook’s eyes darken immediately.

“No more running,” he murmurs calmly while his hands slide slowly up your legs. “But keep fighting me.” A dangerous smirk spreads across his face. “Turns me the fuck on.”

Jungkook keeps you pinned beneath him for several long seconds after dragging you back across the mattress, one hand wrapped loosely around your ankle while the other braces beside your head. His breathing is slightly uneven from the kissing, dark hair falling messily across his forehead now, but somehow he still looks maddeningly composed.

Meanwhile your entire brain feels like it’s actively melting.

The room stays quiet except for rain tapping softly outside and both of your breathing slowly filling the space between you. Jungkook studies your face carefully, eyes dragging over every tiny reaction like he’s piecing something together.

Then finally he sighs softly through his nose.

“You really know how to piss me off,” he murmurs almost fondly.

Your stomach flips nervously. “Jungkook-”

“No.” His thumb brushes once against your ankle. “You don’t get to interrupt right now.”

Heat flashes through you immediately. A low hum leaves him while his gaze drifts slowly downward over your body before returning to your face again.

“You fought with me in class.” Calm. Casual. “Called me an asshole in front of everyone.” Another slight tilt of his head. “Ignored my texts. Turned your phone off. Tried to hide from me.”

Every word settles heavier and heavier inside your chest because he’s listing them like offenses being read aloud before sentencing.

And horrifyingly enough… part of you likes it.

Jungkook sees the realization flicker across your face instantly and the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

“Yeah,” he murmurs quietly. “That’s what I thought.”

Your thighs press together instinctively and his eyes flick downward immediately.

A rough chuckle leaves him. “Holy fuck.”

Heat burns through your entire body while Jungkook slowly sits back on his heels between your legs, one hand sliding lazily along your thigh.

Then, completely calm, like he’s asking what you want for dinner:

“You can choose.”

You blink at him. “…what?”

Jungkook’s expression barely changes.

“I’m either gonna spank your bare ass twenty times with my hand…” His fingers tap lightly against your thigh once. “…five with the belt…”

Your breathing catches sharply at that one. Jungkook sees it immediately and a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Oh?” he murmurs mockingly. “That scared you a little?”

“You’re insane.”

“Hm.” Completely unconcerned.

Then his thumb presses slightly harder against your thigh while his voice drops lower.

“…or ten against your bare cunt.”

Your entire body goes still. Jungkook watches it happen in real time and actually laughs quietly beneath his breath.

Not loud. Worse.

Genuinely amused.

“There it is,” he murmurs softly. “That’s the one.”

Your stomach flips violently. “No it’s not.”

“Princess.” His head tilts slightly while his eyes drag slowly over your flushed face. “Your thighs literally just closed.”

Humiliation burns straight through you because the worst part is that he sounds almost pleased by it.

Like he enjoys exposing you.

“You should see your face right now,” he says quietly, lips twitching again. “Cute little brain trying so hard not to imagine it.”

Your breath turns uneven immediately.

A rough exhale leaves him while his fingers slowly slide higher up your thigh until you physically tense beneath him.

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. “You really don’t know how obvious you are yet, huh?”

You glare up at him instantly. “Shut up.” But it comes out weak again. Breathless.

And Jungkook absolutely loves it. A dark grin spreads slowly across his face while he leans down closer, close enough now that his lips brush faintly against yours when he speaks.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” he murmurs quietly. “Trying to decide which one would hurt the most.” His thumb presses lightly between your thighs over your pajamas. “Meanwhile your body’s over here getting wetter every second.”

A soft sound escapes you before you can stop it and Jungkook’s eyes darken immediately.

“There she is,” he whispers.

Heat crashes through you so violently it almost hurts.

“You know what I think?” he asks softly while watching your expression unravel further. “I think part of you wants me to choose.” A low chuckle leaves him. “Because then you can keep pretending none of this is your fault.”

You glare at him instantly. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah.” Completely calm. “Still waiting for an answer.”

Then finally, when you still don’t answer, a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Okay then…”

Your stomach twists sharply because the second those words leave his mouth, you already know he’s choosing for you.

Jungkook watches the realization settle into your face with obvious satisfaction before slowly leaning down over you again, one hand spreading beside your head while the other drifts lazily along your thigh.

“Look at you,” he murmurs softly. “Completely gone already and I haven’t even started.”

Heat burns through your entire body while his fingers slide slowly upward beneath the hem of your pajama shorts, teasing without really touching where you want him most. Every movement feels deliberate now, like he’s dragging the anticipation out on purpose just to watch you squirm beneath him.

And the worst part? He looks like he’s enjoying this far too much.

His mouth brushes slowly against your jaw before trailing lower toward your throat while his fingers hook lazily into the buttons of your pajama top, undoing them one by one with agonizing patience.

Then quietly:

“Also…” His lips ghost softly beneath your ear. “…there’s something else that made me fucking mad, princess.”

Your stomach thightens at his words.

A low hum leaves him while another button slips free beneath his fingers, exposing more skin inch by inch while his eyes stay fixed on your face.

“Can you guess what it was?”

You blink up at him, still dazed from the kissing, from him dragging you across the bed earlier, from the way he keeps touching you like he already owns every inch of your body.

“I…” Your voice catches slightly. “I don’t know.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue softly. “Use that brain, dummy,” he murmurs against your skin.

His hand slips beneath the fabric of your pajama top then, fingertips dragging slowly across your stomach and your breath hitches hard enough to interrupt your thoughts completely.

Jungkook notices that too and a quiet chuckle vibrates against your throat. “See?” he murmurs mockingly. “Can’t even think properly anymore.”

You hate how weak your body feels beneath him. Hate how your brain keeps turning to static every time his hands move over you.

His lips trail lower along your neck before suddenly his teeth catch your skin hard enough to pull a sharp whine from your throat.

“There it is…” he mutters softly.

Then he sucks slowly against the sensitive spot beneath your jaw while his hand spreads possessively over your stomach, holding you still against the mattress while you squirm beneath him.

Your fingers clutch weakly at his shirt. “Jungkook…”

A low hum leaves him before he finally pulls back just enough to look down at you again. And somehow that calm expression is worse than if he looked angry.

Because he looks completely composed. Completely certain.

His thumb brushes slowly across your waist beneath your pajama shirt while his voice drops quieter now.

Too quiet.

“I told you yesterday,” he murmurs softly, “to fucking text me when you got home.”

Your eyes snap open instantly. Oh. Oh no.

“I…” Your stomach drops violently. “I forgot-”

Jungkook clicks his tongue immediately. “Stupid.”

Heat crashes through you all at once. Another soft kiss presses against your throat.

“Stupid little girl,” he murmurs almost affectionately before biting lightly at your skin again hard enough to make you gasp.

“I really forgot,” you whisper quickly, trying to explain while your pulse spirals harder and harder beneath him. “I didn’t mean to-”

“But you still forgot.” Calm. Casual. “After I told you to do one simple fucking thing.”

Humiliation curls hot in your stomach while Jungkook watches your face carefully, fingers slowly gliding higher beneath your pajama top.

“You know what I think?” he asks softly.

You barely manage a shaky breath. “What…?”

“I think you stopped taking me seriously for a second.” His thumb drags lightly across your skin. “Thought maybe I’d let things slide because i kissed you a little.”

Your stomach sinks because that’s almost exactly what happened.

Jungkook sees the realization spread across your face instantly and the corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s what I thought.”

His hand suddenly grips your waist firmly before he leans down close enough that his lips brush faintly against yours again.

“You’re learning though,” he whispers softly. “Slowly.”

Then another kiss against your mouth. Gentle this time, almost sweet.

The sudden softness catches you completely off guard after everything else tonight and before you can stop yourself, your body relaxes slightly beneath him. Your fingers loosen against his shirt while you melt into the kiss for one dangerous second, lips moving slowly against his while the hand beneath your pajama top drifts lazily across your skin.

And Jungkook notices immediately. A low hum vibrates against your mouth the exact moment you soften for him.

Then suddenly-

Pain flashes sharply through your chest when his fingers pinch your nipple hard enough to rip a loud whine straight from your throat.

Jungkook swallows the sound instantly with his mouth.

The kiss changes immediately after that, less gentle now, more possessive.

His hand tightens around your waist while his mouth moves hungrily against yours, tongue brushing forcefully against yours as another softer whimper escapes into the kiss. Jungkook groans quietly at the sound before pinching again just enough to make your back arch beneath him.

Heat crashes through your body violently while he keeps kissing you harder now, every movement deliberate, possessive, like he’s actively reminding you who’s in control again after letting you relax for those few stupid seconds.

Your fingers tighten in his shirt instinctively. A dark chuckle leaves him before his teeth catch your lower lip briefly.

“See what happens?” he murmurs softly. “The second you get comfortable, you stop thinking.”

Your breathing turns uneven again immediately, eyes glistening faintly once the sharp sting finally eases..

Jungkook’s mouth drags over your neck downwards to your chest until he softly takes the sensitive nub between his lips, gently sucking and kissing it.

“Good girl.” he mutters against your heated skin and you automatically arch your back against his mouth.

Jungkook finally releases your nipple with a quiet hum before sitting back slightly above you and for one horrible second you think maybe he’s done teasing now.

But then his hands move toward his belt. Your stomach drops instantly.

The metallic sound of the buckle sliding free cuts through the room while your pulse suddenly pounds harder beneath your ribs. You watch him slowly pull the belt from the loops of his jeans inch by inch and the moment leather slips fully free, your body instinctively squirms beneath him.

A low chuckle leaves him while he glances up at your face, dark eyes dragging slowly across your expression.

“Relax, dummy…” he murmurs softly.

Heat floods your face anyway because absolutely nothing about this feels relaxing right now.

The belt hangs loosely from his hand while he shifts closer again and before you can even ask what he’s doing, his fingers close around your wrists. Your breath catches sharply.

Jungkook calmly guides your hands above your head before threading the belt around them and securing it loosely against the headboard behind you. Not painful. Not tight enough to hurt. Just enough to stop you from pulling away.

“There,” he mutters quietly once he’s finished, eyes flicking over your restrained wrists with obvious satisfaction. “That’s better.”

Your pulse jumps violently when you test the movement slightly and realize you genuinely can’t move your hands now.

Jungkook notices that too and the corner of his mouth lifts faintly. “Cute,” he murmurs while settling back between your legs again.

The mattress dips beneath his weight while his hands slowly drag down your body- fingertips brushing over your stomach before hooking into the waistband of your pajama pants.

Your breathing turns uneven immediately.

Jungkook keeps his eyes on your face the entire time while he slowly pulls the fabric down your legs, watching every tiny reaction like he’s studying you.

Like he enjoys seeing you nervous. And honestly? He probably does.

The second the fabric disappears completely, his gaze drags slowly over your body before a quiet exhale leaves him beneath his breath.

“Fuck…” he mutters softly.

Heat burns across your face while you instinctively try to close your legs a little but Jungkook’s hand immediately settles against your thigh, stopping you.

“None of that.”

Your stomach twists harder.

Then his fingers tighten slightly against your thigh while his expression turns calm again. Focused.

Terrifyingly composed.

“You’re gonna count for me,” he says quietly. “And if you miss one…” His eyes lift slowly back toward yours. “…I’m starting all over again.”

Your breath catches sharply. For a second you just stare at him in shock, brain struggling to fully process what the hell is happening right now.

Jungkook waits patiently. Eventually you manage the tiniest nod and a slow smirk spreads across his face.

“Good girl.” The praise melts through you embarrassingly fast.

Then Jungkook’s hands slide firmly against the inside of your thighs before gently pushing them apart.

“Spread your legs.” And suddenly you realize exactly which punishment he chose.

The first slap catches you off guard- his hand lands exactly in the middle of your exposed pussy and a sharp sting spreads instantly through your body. You let out a strong gasp and instinctively try to close your legs but Jungkook holds them open with ease.

“Count.” he orders in the same calm tone as if none of this affects him at all. You swallow thickly before muttering a small “One” and he hums in return.

“Good girl.”

His fingers run through your wet folds a few times, pulling another shudder from you and a quiet moan slips beneath your lips just as his hand lands on the sensitive flesh once again.

“Fuck!” you yelp, eyes clenched shut but when you slowly open them again you see his raised eyebrows and quickly add, “Two…” He nods approvingly.

Jungkook hums softly in approval, fingers smoothing briefly along your thigh afterward almost absentmindedly before another slap follows only seconds later.

This one feels worse- not because it hurts more, but because now you’re expecting it.

Your entire body tenses in anticipation and Jungkook notices immediately, eyes flicking slowly across your face while another quiet sound escapes you.

“Three,” you whisper.

“Louder.”

Heat burns through your cheeks. “Three,” you repeat properly this time and a faint grin spreads across his face.

“That’s better.”

The room slowly fills with the sound of your uneven breathing mixed with the occasional sharp sting that keeps pulling broken reactions from your throat. Somewhere around four your legs start trembling slightly beneath his grip and Jungkook notices that too, thumb pressing lazily into your skin while he watches you try to hold yourself together.

“You’re sensitive already?” he murmurs almost mockingly. “Poor thing.”

You glare at him instantly despite the tears beginning to sting faintly at the corners of your eyes.

“Shut up.”

A low chuckle leaves him. Then another slap lands before you’re fully prepared for it and your back arches sharply against the mattress while a louder sound slips from your mouth before you can stop it.

“Fuck-”

Jungkook’s eyebrows lift. Your eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment before you quickly force out:

“Five.”

“There you go.” The praise feels humiliatingly good.

That’s the worst part. Not the punishment itself. Not even the sting.

It’s the way your body reacts every time he tells you you’re doing well, every soft “good girl” melting straight through your pride while Jungkook watches the effect it has on you with growing amusement.

By the time he reaches seven your breathing is completely uneven now, thighs twitching helplessly beneath his hands while your wrists pull instinctively against the belt every time another sting spreads through your body.

And somehow Jungkook still looks perfectly composed. Relaxed even.

Like he could do this all night.

“You keeping up okay, princess?” he asks softly after another sharp slap makes your head fall back briefly against the pillows.

You nod weakly. “Mhm.”

His hand grips your jaw lightly immediately, forcing your eyes back toward him.

“Use your words.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Then another slap lands suddenly and your entire body jerks beneath him hard enough that the next number completely slips from your brain.

Silence.

Oh no.

Your eyes widen instantly while Jungkook just watches you calmly.

“…what comes after seven?” he asks softly. Panic flashes through you immediately.

“Wait- give me a second please…”

“Too dumb to count properly?”

“Jungkook please-”

His head tilts slightly, expression almost thoughtful now while his fingers drag lazily over your wet folds again. “Think carefully, dummy.”

You try to breathe properly, cheeks burning with humiliation while your thoughts scramble uselessly around in your head.

“…eight,” you whisper finally.

Jungkook studies your face for another second before humming softly. “Correct.”

Relief crashes through you embarrassingly fast.

His thumb presses against your clit, drawing slow circles around the sensitive nub, pulling a deep moan from you. He increases the speed of his thumb, making you squirm beneath him while a slow smirk spreads across his face. Your eyes almost flutter shut as your thighs start to tremble, your orgasm building embarrassingly fast.

Just as your release is about to crash over you, he removes his thumb, delivering the last two slaps harshly against your pussy and bringing you over the edge. The final sting sends tears slipping fully down your cheeks despite how hard you try to hold them back.

“Oh my god-“ a strangled sob escapes you as pain and pleasure mix together and wash over you in intense waves. Jungkook lets out a satisfied hum as he watches your body writhe beneath him while he softly grips your waist.

Your body goes limp and you let yourself sink further into the mattress. You feel Jungkook’s weight shift on top of you and suddenly his lips are against your ear, softly whispering:

“Forgetting something, princess?”

You open your eyes in exhaustion. He’s already looking at you, waiting for your answer and you swallow thickly.

“Nine… ten…” your voice weak and small.

Jungkook studies your face for another second after the weak answer leaves your lips before a quiet satisfied hum finally escapes him.

“There you go,” he murmurs softly. “Knew you could do it.”

Your chest rises and falls unevenly while he reaches upward to loosen the belt around your wrists, fingers rubbing gently over the faint red marks left behind. The sudden softness after everything else tonight feels almost disorienting and your eyes flutter shut briefly when he brings one of your wrists toward his mouth, pressing a slow kiss against the sensitive skin there.

“So pretty like this,” he mutters quietly.

Heat spreads weakly through your exhausted body while Jungkook’s hands slide slowly down your arms afterward before one of them hooks beneath the hem of his hoodie. Your breath catches the second he pulls it over his head, revealing warm skin, dark tattoos and lean muscle beneath the dim light of your room.

And embarrassingly enough… you stare.

Jungkook notices it and slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth while he tosses the hoodie somewhere onto the floor, dark eyes flicking briefly toward your face when he catches the way your gaze drags helplessly across his chest. But he doesn’t tease you for it.

Instead he just leans back over you again slowly, one hand settling beside your head while the other glides lazily across your waist beneath your already open pajama top.

“You look exhausted,” he murmurs softly, lips brushing faintly against yours.

“You’re horrible,” you whisper weakly. A quiet chuckle leaves him.

“Yeah,” he hums against your mouth. “Still did so good for me though.” The praise melts straight through you again.

Jungkook kisses you slowly after that, deep enough to leave your thoughts hazy while his hand drifts lower over your stomach, fingers tracing absentminded patterns against your skin. Every touch feels unhurried now, almost lazy, like he has all the time in the world while he takes you apart piece by piece.

His mouth leaves yours eventually only to drag lower instead. Over your jaw. Your throat.

A soft shiver rolls through your body the second his lips press against one of the marks he left there earlier and Jungkook hums quietly at the reaction before kissing lower again.

“You get sensitive so fast,” he murmurs softly against your skin, sounding almost amused by it.

Heat curls low in your stomach while his hands slowly push the fabric of your pajama top further open again, exposing your chest completely beneath him while his mouth keeps wandering lower.

Every kiss feels deliberate. Possessive. Like he’s memorizing you now.

Your breathing turns uneven again the moment his lips brush over your chest, lingering there just long enough to make your pulse stutter while his hands tighten faintly against your waist.

“Jungkook…” you breathe softly.

A low hum vibrates against your skin in response before he kisses lower again, dragging his mouth slowly over your stomach while his fingers spread gently against your hips to keep you still beneath him.

And when his lips finally brush against the inside of your thigh? Your entire body jerks slightly.

Jungkook chuckles quietly at that, eyes lifting briefly toward your face while his thumb strokes lazily against your skin.

“So fucking reactive,” he murmurs softly. “Can barely touch you without you falling apart for me.”

You feel his hot breath right between your legs before his tongue drags lazily over your folds, settling at your clit where he starts sucking almost softly.

“Oh…” you breathe out, your back arching as everything is still sensitive and overstimulated. Jungkook just hums, giving your clit a lazy swirl with his tongue as he carefully pushes two fingers inside of you.

“So fucking tight…” he mumbles while curling his long fingers against your sweet spot over and over again. “You taste so sweet, baby.” He hums, then his mouth is on you again, this time more intense, latching onto you like he’s possessed and turning you into a writhing mess.

“C-close…” you gasp, one hand finding his hair as you give it a strong tug and he hums in response.

Your eyes flutter shut as he mercilessly sucks on your clit while his fingers continue to fuck you open with scissoring motions, and moments later your orgasm crashes over you so intensely that you grab the nearest pillow to muffle your screams.

Jungkook continues to help you ride it out until you try to close your legs and shove him away. He just chuckles and slowly lets go of your throbbing pussy before sitting back up. You’re still hiding beneath the pillow, your chest rising and falling as your breathing slowly returns to normal when he pulls it away, looking down at you with a smirk.

“Cute.”

His arm reaches out to brush the strands of hair clinging to your sweaty forehead out of your face. You look up at him, slowly blinking, and once again, almost instinctively, lean into his touch. You can see the way his jaw clenches at that, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Jungkook strokes your cheek one last time before slowly retracting his hand and settling it at his pants. Your eyes follow his movements as he opens them, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of his pants and boxers before stepping out of them entirely, leaving him completely naked before you.

You swallow as you take in his whole form and something in your chest shifts slightly, but you quickly push it away as you sit up and peel off your pajama top, leaving both of you entirely bare. He hums, the corner of his mouth lifting as he slowly climbs above you.

“Are you on the pill?”

You blink. “What?”

“Can I fuck you raw?” He tilts his head and the way he licks his lips makes your heart stutter for a second.

“Y-yes…” you finally manage to say, and he smirks. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please…” you whisper against his lips, your sense of shame already gone. All you want is Jeon Jungkook inside of you. Right now.

“Hm…” he hums, his tongue ghosting over your bottom lip. “I think you can do better than that, princess.”

“Jungkook…” you whine in frustration, which makes him chuckle, clearly enjoying it. “Please fuck me. There, happy?” You roll your eyes and he lets out a snort.

“Did you just fucking roll your eyes?”

You open your mouth to protest, but he already pushes you back into the mattress. “Shut up. Turn around, hands on the bed, ass up…”

“Wait, wha…” you don’t even finish the sentence before he grabs your waist and flips you onto your stomach, a surprised yelp escaping you.

Jungkook looks down at your figure lying beneath him as he wraps his hand around his cock, giving it a few pumps before lining himself up within your soaking entrance. His chest presses against your back, one hand wrapped around your throat as you finally feel him push inside.

He’s not fast with it. It’s slow, almost excruciating. And still, the stretch is so intense your walls try to refuse him at first.

“Jungkook…” you gasp. “…too much… I can’t…”

He lets out a low chuckle against your ear.

“You can and you will, princess. Listen to the cute noises your cunt makes every time my dick slides back in…”

To make a point, he pulls back only to thrust in again, the wet smacking sound echoing through the room.

You shake your head while clutching at the bedsheets. “Too big… you’re too big…”

“Aw.” He tuts with fake concern, his hand landing sharply against your ass. “Poor little baby can’t handle my dick. Where’d all the attitude go, huh?” His hips snap against yours as he sets a faster, rougher pace, making you whine into the sheets.

“Your mouth’s writing checks your ass can’t cash, dumb little brat,” he growls, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling a sinful moan from you that would usually belong in a porn.

The degradation should irritate you, should offend you, but instead you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and so can Jungkook.

“Fuck, you’re soaking. It’s literally running down your fucking legs…” His voice is hoarse, fingertips pressing into your skin as if he’s trying to brand you. And maybe he truly is.

His hand runs over the curve of your ass, kneading the soft flesh and spreading your cheeks when you feel his thumb against your back entrance. You freeze for a second and he notices immediately.

“Ever tried it before?” he asks calmly, and you let out a shy, “No,” earning a soft hum in response. His thumb circles the tight hole over and over before he finally says, “Relax. Not tonight.”

Before you can properly process his words, you feel his breath fanning against your cheek.

“But soon I’m gonna fuck that cute ass.”

Jungkook flips you around onto your back and increases the pace of his thrusts. His cock keeps hitting that special spot inside you while he reaches down to circle your clit.

“I’m gonna…” you bite your lip, desperately trying not to be too loud as you stare up at him. Sweat clings to his forehead, his hair messy, and suddenly all you want to do is bite that lip piercing of his. You grab him by the neck and pull him down, kissing him fiercely, which earns you a satisfied grunt from him.

“Fuck, baby…” he mumbles against your lips as his thrusts turn harsher, almost painful in the most delicious way. Your legs lock behind his back as your orgasm crashes through you, making you uncontrollably tremble beneath him. Jungkook follows seconds later, burying himself as deep as possible while his cum floods your swollen walls, slowly dripping out of you afterward.

“Holy fuck…” he breathes against your neck and you manage a weak nod. Your hand wanders absentmindedly through his hair and down his back, drawing lazy patterns against his skin.

For a long moment neither of you says anything.

The room feels heavy in the aftermath, warm and ruined and far too quiet now compared to everything that happened only minutes ago. Your body still buzzes pleasantly from the intensity of it all while Jungkook stays stretched out on top of you, one arm lazily wrapped around your waist as both of you slowly catch your breath again.

It should feel wrong. You should want distance after everything that happened tonight. Instead you feel… comfortable. Safe.

The realization settles unpleasantly in your chest. Dangerous.

Jungkook notices the shift immediately but instead of commenting on it his head tilts slightly toward the hoodie tossed somewhere beside the bed.

“Mind if I smoke?”

Usually you would. Usually you’d complain about the smell, roll your eyes dramatically, tell him he’s disgusting or slowly killing himself. But right now your brain still feels hazy and unfocused, caught somewhere between exhaustion and the terrifying realization slowly creeping up your spine.

“Huh?” you blink before quietly shaking your head. “Yeah… no. Go ahead.”

Jungkook goes still for the briefest moment beneath you. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But you do.

His eyes flick briefly toward your face like he’s trying to figure out what exactly is happening inside your head right now. Then, surprisingly, he doesn’t push.

Doesn’t tease. Doesn’t pry.

He just hums softly before reaching for the hoodie beside the bed and pulling a slightly crushed cigarette pack from the pocket.

Then suddenly his hands settle on your waist. Before you can even react properly, Jungkook flips the two of you over effortlessly until he’s lying beneath you instead, one arm tucked behind his head while the other brings the cigarette toward his lips.

You let out a startled sound immediately. “The fuck-”

A low chuckle rumbles beneath you. “Relax, princess.”

The lighter flicks softly in the dim room before smoke slowly curls upward between the two of you. You stay sprawled half on top of him afterward, your cheek resting against his chest while you continue tracing his tattoos absentmindedly.

It’s quiet.

Not awkward quiet. Just… still. The kind of silence that feels strangely intimate.

Jungkook smokes lazily above you while your fingers drift over the ink on his ribs and chest, your thoughts growing heavier and heavier the longer this silence stretches.

Because this doesn’t feel like hooking up anymore. It feels dangerously close to something else. And that realization honestly scares the shit out of you.

After a while your eyes drift upward toward the cigarette between his fingers.

“Can I try it?”

Jungkook immediately looks down at you with raised eyebrows. “Smoking kills.”

You stare at him flatly. “Are you serious right now?”

A grin slowly spreads across his face before he finally brings the cigarette toward your lips anyway.

“Go on then.”

You carefully lean upward and inhale way too much immediately.

The second smoke hits your lungs, violent coughing tears out of you while you jerk back against his chest in horror.

“Oh my god-” you choke out between coughs. “That is disgusting!”

Jungkook starts laughing instantly. Not the quiet amused chuckles from earlier. Actually laughing.

Deep enough that you can feel it rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek while he steadies the cigarette away from you.

“You looked confident for a second there too,” he grins.

“Shut up,” you cough weakly, smacking his chest which only makes him laugh harder.

Asshole.

Eventually the room settles again afterward, smoke curling lazily through the dim light while your fingers wander back toward the tattoos stretched across his chest.

You trace one slowly. Then another.

Jungkook watches you quietly this time, dark eyes half-lidded while the cigarette rests between his fingers near his lips.

Then softly: “Something going on in that head of yours?”

Your stomach tightens immediately. Because yes. Way too much. But there’s absolutely no fucking way you’re saying any of that out loud.

So instead you just shrug slightly against him. “Tired.”

Jungkook studies your face for another second like he knows you’re full of shit but decides to let it slide for now.

The silence stretches again after that until eventually the question slips from your mouth before you can stop it.

“…are you staying?”

Jungkook’s gaze flicks back down toward you immediately. “Do you want me to?”

The answer should be no. It absolutely should. Instead you hesitate and think about it.

Then slowly nod.

And something unreadable flickers briefly across Jungkook’s face before he leans back further into the pillows again.

“I would’ve stayed anyway.”

You immediately smack his chest again. “You’re so annoying.”

A low chuckle leaves him while his hand slides lazily up your back once more, fingers brushing through your hair.

“Yeah,” he murmurs softly. “Still not leaving though.”

And horrifyingly enough… you realize you’re glad.

➻ taglist for stupid little girl

@cherricherryy @sacredscourgeprototype @jeonette @lachimolalajeon @bangtans-momma @muniing @curiousswordarcade @barbie-girl84 @jjkxoxx @sierrakook @jendeuk123 @eeeeeeeruab @bebesnyia7 @mydecalcomania @jeonggukiebts @lilbitcherries @evtrack @koonosekisser @asther1389 @angelsdecalcomania @thatbmar @sassywildbunny @darklove2020 @tejal802002 @evtrack @jjanajk @naniis18 @seokmyballs @mar-lo-pap @prxdajeon @sugadclaws @vhyunjinverse @tojiswifeyy

[if you want to be added to the taglist, please leave a comment below] — if your name is white, it means i couldn’t tag you. please reach out to me.

Monday evening feels different somehow.

Not because anything around you changed, but because you did. Or maybe because something inside you shifted the moment you actually sat down and wrote twenty thousand words about Jeon Jungkook instead of sleeping like a normal person.

Either way, by the time you stand in front of his apartment again, exhaustion sits heavy underneath your eyes while irritation buzzes beneath your skin like static. You barely slept, barely ate, and somehow your entire weekend got consumed by him. The realization alone makes you angrier.

Which is exactly why you slam the thick stack of papers directly against his chest the second he opens the door.

“There,” you snap. “Your stupid fucking essay.”

Jungkook blinks once before looking down at the massive stack now pressed against him. Then slowly, one eyebrow lifting:

“…what the fuck?”

“You said twenty thousand words.”

“And?” he asks flatly, already stepping aside to let you in. “Better be exactly 20k then.”

Your mouth falls open immediately. “Oh my god, you are such an asshole.”

A low laugh leaves him as he shuts the door behind you, cigarette tucked between his lips while he lazily flips through the pages. The apartment smells faintly like smoke and coffee again, the exact same way it always does, and somehow even that annoys you now because your entire body relaxes the second you walk inside.

Pathetic.

Jungkook keeps flipping through the essay while walking toward the desk and then suddenly stops.

Silence settles across the room. A dangerous kind of silence. Slowly, his eyes drag back up toward you.

an analysis on why jeon jungkook is the biggest asshole on campus

The corner of his mouth twitches once.

You immediately cross your arms defensively. “What?” you ask. “Academic honesty matters.”

Jungkook lets out a quiet scoff through his nose before looking back down at the title again like he genuinely cannot believe you. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“No,” you shoot back instantly. “You’re unbelievable. You made me write twenty thousand words overnight like some psychotic dictator.”

“And yet,” he says calmly while lifting the essay slightly, “you still fucking did it.”

Your stomach twists painfully- You hate that point. Hate that he’s right.

Jungkook drops into the desk chair afterward, lazily flipping through the pages while you linger nearby pretending not to care. Unfortunately your entire nervous system cares deeply.

At first, you expect him to laugh. Or mock you. Or tear the whole thing apart just to piss you off further. But the longer the silence stretches, the more his expression changes. Not softer. Worse.

Focused. Interested.

Every now and then he stops to reread a paragraph, eyes moving slower across the page while one tattooed hand taps lightly against the desk. The room stays completely quiet except for shifting paper and the occasional drag of his cigarette, and every passing second starts making your irritation twist together with nervousness.

Then finally: “…huh.”

Your eyes narrow immediately. “What the hell does that mean?”

Jungkook ignores the question completely and flips another page instead. Then another. Then another.

Your annoyance spikes instantly. “Well? Say something.”

Jungkook leans back slightly in the chair before finally looking up at you. “This is really fucking good.”

Your brain immediately stalls. “…what?”

“The flow’s better,” he says casually while tapping one of the pages. “You stopped trying so fucking hard to sound smart every second.”

Your chest tightens embarrassingly fast.

“It actually sounds natural now,” he continues. “Like a real person wrote it instead of some desperate little overachiever trying to impress professors.”

The praise hits you so hard it’s almost humiliating. Your entire body softens before you can stop it and Jungkook notices immediately. Of course he fucking notices.

A slow grin spreads across his face while he watches your expression change in real time. “Oh my god,” he murmurs, sounding genuinely entertained now.

Heat floods your face instantly. “What?”

“You’re so much worse with praise than I thought.”

“I am not.”

“Hm.” Completely unconvinced. Jungkook flips another page before snorting quietly under his breath again.

“What now?” you ask suspiciously.

He lifts the paper slightly. “You called me manipulative twelve times.”

“Because you are.”

“Arrogant nineteen.”

“Still true.”

“Insufferable thirty-four.” He looks up slowly. “Damn. You were passionate about this shit too.”

You try not to laugh and fail a little. Jungkook catches it immediately.

“Ah,” he murmurs while leaning back further in the chair. “So now you think this is funny.”

“I think you deserved it.”

The grin on his face sharpens slightly.

“And you got real fucking cocky all of a sudden.”

Honestly? You do feel cocky. He praised you. Praised your writing. Told you it was good. So now your ego is floating somewhere near the ceiling while your exhaustion slowly turns into dangerous confidence.

Without thinking too hard about it, you hop up onto the edge of his desk, swinging one leg lazily while crossing your arms again.

“Maybe your praise just proved i’m smarter than you thought,” you say smugly.

Jungkook goes quiet. Not annoyed or angry. Just watching you now. His head tilts slightly while his eyes drag slowly over you sitting there on his desk looking entirely too pleased with yourself.

And suddenly he looks almost amused, like you’re adorable for this.

Adorably fucking stupid.

“Actually,” you continue, still riding the high of his praise, “i think this proves i’m academically gifted.”

Jungkook hums softly beneath his breath.“Academically gifted,” he repeats slowly.

“Exactly.”

Another hum. Then finally:

“Stand up.”

Your stomach flips immediately. Still, you roll your eyes dramatically before sliding off the desk anyway.

“There,” you mutter while standing in front of him. “Happy?”

Jungkook leans back slightly in the chair, one arm resting lazily against the armrest while the other still loosely holds your essay.

Then:

“Come here.”

You hesitate briefly, assuming he wants to show you another paragraph or point out another mistake, so you start walking toward him.

But before you can take more than two steps, Jungkook slowly shakes his head.

“Not like that.” You stop immediately.

His gaze stays locked onto yours while he lowers the essay onto the desk beside him, fingers tapping once against the cover page before he finally looks back up at you.

Then, low and deliberate:

“Get on your knees.”

Your entire brain blanks. “…what?”

Jungkook leans forward slightly now, forearms resting against his thighs while his dark eyes stay fixed on your face.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Heat crashes violently through your body.

For a second you just stand there frozen, trying to decide whether this is still teasing, still banter, still part of the game you thought the two of you were playing, but Jungkook’s expression never changes. It stays calm. Too calm. And somehow that makes everything worse.

You hesitate again and one of his eyebrows immediately lifts slightly.

“Don’t make me get up,” he says quietly. “I’m already losing patience with your bratty bullshit tonight.”

The words hit like a switch.

Your stomach tightens instantly and before your pride can stop you, you slowly sink down onto your knees in front of him. Jungkook watches the entire thing silently, completely focused, and the realization alone nearly burns you alive.

You swallow hard while trying to ignore how violently your heart suddenly pounds because this is insane. Actually insane. And yet you still stay there. Still obey.

Jungkook’s tongue briefly presses against the inside of his cheek before he finally makes a small motion with two fingers, a silent command.

“Crawl to me,” he says quietly before adding, lower this time, “now.”

Your breath catches sharply but you still move, slowly crawling across the small distance until you end up between his legs while your pulse pounds violently in your ears. Jungkook looks down at you for several long seconds before finally murmuring:

“There she is.”

The praise hits embarrassingly hard. Your stomach twists immediately and you hate how much your body reacts to three stupid fucking words, but Jungkook notices too. He always notices.

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth before his hand suddenly lifts toward your face. You tense automatically, but instead of grabbing you roughly, his thumb brushes lightly beneath your eye almost mockingly.

“Look at you,” he murmurs softly. “Got all cocky because i praised your little essay once.”

Heat floods your face instantly. “I wasn’t cocky.”

“Hm,” he hums, completely unconvinced. His fingers slide briefly along your jaw before he leans back slightly again, gaze dragging slowly over you while you kneel there between his legs.

“You know what your problem is?” he asks calmly. You glare up at him immediately.

“You think i’m fucking joking.” Your stomach drops. “That attitude of yours keeps making you forget something,” he continues quietly. “Every single time I warned you about something so far…”

He tilts his head slightly.

“…I followed through.”

And horrifyingly enough, he’s right. Jungkook watches the realization hit you in real time and a low chuckle leaves him.

“There it is,” he murmurs. “Finally using that pretty little brain.”

You hate how warm the praise makes you feel and hate it even more when his hand settles briefly against the top of your head, fingers sliding slowly through your hair once. The gesture isn’t soft or affectionate.

It feels possessive. Rewarding.

“Good girl,” he says quietly. Your breath stutters immediately.

His fingers continue moving through your hair before curling a loose strand around them absentmindedly. The motion should feel gentle, but instead it feels possessive, and your pulse stutters again when he gives the strand a small tug. Not enough to hurt, just enough to force your attention fully back onto him.

A quiet breath escapes you before you can stop it. Jungkook notices instantly- of course he fucking does. A slow smirk spreads across his face while his eyes stay locked onto yours.

“I could do whatever the fuck i want right now,” he murmurs quietly.

Your stomach tightens violently while the room suddenly feels too warm, too small. Jungkook tilts his head slightly while lazily wrapping the strand of hair tighter around his finger.

“And you wouldn’t stop me, would you?”

Your breath catches sharply because the terrifying part is that he doesn’t sound arrogant. He sounds certain, like he already knows the answer.

You should say yes. Should push his hand away. Should stand up and leave before this spirals even further out of control. Should remember your boyfriend smiling at you across the cafeteria earlier that morning, kissing your forehead before class and telling you good luck with tutoring like he actually trusted you.

Instead you stay exactly where you are, still kneeling, still looking up at him.

Jungkook watches the realization hit you in real time and the smirk on his face slowly deepens.

“There it is,” he says softly.

Humiliation burns straight through you. “I hate you,” you whisper immediately.

Jungkook chuckles lowly while giving your hair one final tug before letting the strand slip slowly through his fingers again.

“No,” he says calmly. “You just hate that I’m right.”

Your stomach twists violently because he is right and somehow that’s the worst part of all this.

The room falls quiet for several long seconds afterward, tension hanging thick in the air while Jungkook keeps looking down at you with that same terrifying calmness that’s been unraveling you piece by piece since the moment you met him.

Then finally: “Look at me.”

You already are, but your eyes immediately lift fully back to his face like your body reacts to his voice before your brain can even catch up. Jungkook notices that too and a quiet hum leaves him while his thumb brushes slowly along your jaw again.

“So obedient all of a sudden,” he murmurs. “Where’d all that attitude go?”

“It’s still there,” you mutter weakly.

That earns you another small tug on your hair.“Cute.”

Your pulse jumps instantly. God. You hate how easily he affects you now.

Jungkook leans back slightly in the chair again, eyes still fixed on your face while one hand lazily rests against the armrest beside him.

“You know what’s funny?” he asks softly. You don’t answer. “You keep acting like I’m forcing you into this.” His head tilts slightly. “But every single time so far, you could’ve walked away.”

Your chest tightens.

“You could’ve ignored my texts,” he continues, another slow look dragging over you. “Could’ve left when I told you to get on your knees.”

Heat creeps painfully up your neck.

“But you didn’t.” His voice stays maddeningly calm. “Do you know why?”

You swallow hard because unfortunately… you do know why. Jungkook watches your silence for a second before a slow grin spreads across his face again.

“Yeah,” he murmurs softly. “Thought so.”

Then, almost casually:

“What would your boyfriend think if he saw you right now?”

Your entire body locks up instantly. Jungkook sees it happen and looks downright fascinated by the reaction.

“There she is,” he says quietly. “Finally remembered him again.”

“Don’t,” you whisper immediately.

“Don’t what?”

“Talk about him.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks calmly. “Feeling guilty all of a sudden?” Your jaw tightens.

He studies your face for another second before leaning slightly closer, his expression unreadable now.

“The thing is,” he says softly, “I don’t think you actually feel guilty because of me.” Your stomach twists harder.

“I think you feel guilty,” he continues quietly, “because you’re realizing you like this.”

The words hit like a punch. You immediately look away from him and Jungkook just chuckles quietly under his breath before hooking two fingers beneath your chin and turning your face back toward him again.

“No,” he murmurs. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Your breath catches sharply.

And horrifyingly enough… you do.

Jungkook’s eyes darken immediately at the obedience.

“There you go,” he murmurs softly, thumb still hooked beneath your chin while forcing you to keep looking at him. “Knew you could listen when you really wanted to.”

Heat floods through your body so intensely it almost hurts.

You hate this. Hate him. Hate the way your stomach twists every single time he praises you like you’re something he’s training instead of a person with functioning self-respect.

And somehow the worst part? He knows.

Jungkook studies your face for another moment before letting out a quiet laugh under his breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters, sounding almost amused. “You really get off on this, huh?”

Your cheeks burn instantly. “I do not.”

“Liar.”

His grip on your chin tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who’s controlling the conversation now.

“You’re sitting on the floor between my legs while I talk down to you,” he says calmly. “And you’re still here.” You swallow hard.

Jungkook notices immediately. “Yeah,” he murmurs softly. “Thought so.”

The room suddenly feels unbearably warm. You should move. Should stand up. Should leave before this gets even worse.

Instead you stay frozen beneath his gaze while Jungkook slowly leans forward in the chair until your faces are dangerously close again.

“You know what I think?” he asks quietly. You don’t answer.

“I think your sweet little boyfriend never once told you what to do.” A low chuckle leaves him. “Never pushed hard enough to see what happens when you stop pretending to be a good girl.”

Your stomach twists violently. “Jungkook-”

“No,” he interrupts immediately, voice sharper now. “You don’t get to act offended after crawling to me like that.”

Heat flashes through your entire body. His eyes drag slowly over your face before briefly dropping lower, watching the way your thighs instinctively press together.

And then he smirks. “Jesus fucking christ,” he laughs quietly. “You’re so getting off on this...”

Humiliation crashes into you instantly. “Shut up.”

“What?” he asks mockingly. “You want me to pretend I don’t see it?”

Your glare only makes him grin wider.

“You know what your problem is, princess?” he asks softly. “You spent your whole life being treated gently.”

The hand in your hair tightens slightly again.

“And now some asshole finally tells you no and suddenly you’re losing your fucking mind over it.”

Your breathing turns uneven immediately because again… he’s right.

And Jungkook can see that he’s right. The realization lights something ugly and pleased inside his expression.

“There she is,” he murmurs again. “That look right there.”

You hate how weak your voice sounds when you answer. “What look?”

“The one where you realize I know exactly what to do with you.” Your stomach flips violently.

Jungkook leans back slightly again, still holding your gaze hostage while his fingers continue lazily moving through your hair.

“You wanna know the fucked up part?” he asks quietly. You stay silent. “I don’t even think you care about your boyfriend right now.”

Your chest tightens sharply.

“I think,” he continues slowly, “you’re sitting here wondering how far I’d actually go.”

Your breath stutters. Because unfortunately… he’s right about that too. Jungkook watches the realization spread across your face and lets out another low curse beneath his breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice rougher now.

The room feels unbearably hot all of a sudden. Your pulse pounds violently in your ears while he keeps looking down at you like he’s trying to figure something out, something dangerous and fascinating all at once.

Then slowly, his gaze drops. Not to your face. Lower.

Toward the belt sitting loosely around his jeans. Your stomach twists instantly. Jungkook notices.

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth before he leans back slightly in the chair again, one hand resting lazily against the armrest while the other stays tangled loosely in your hair.

Then quietly:

“Undo it.”

Your entire body stills. For a second you genuinely think you misheard him.

“…what?”

Jungkook’s expression barely changes.

“The belt,” he says calmly. “Undo it.”

Heat crashes through your body so fast it almost makes you dizzy. “You’re insane,” you whisper immediately.

Jungkook hums softly, completely unbothered.“Yeah?” His head tilts slightly while his eyes stay locked onto yours. “Then leave.”

The words hit harder than they should, because he says them so casually. No threats. No force. No anger. Just certainty.

Like he already knows you won’t.

Silence stretches painfully between the two of you while your heart pounds harder and harder inside your chest. You should stand up. Should push away from him and walk straight out of this apartment before things spiral even further out of control.

Instead… you stay exactly where you are. Still kneeling between his legs.

Jungkook watches the realization hit you in real time and something darkly satisfied flickers across his face.

“There she is,” he murmurs softly. Your stomach flips. Slowly, almost hesitantly, your hands lift toward his belt.

Jungkook goes completely still.

The second your fingers brush the metal buckle, you feel him tense slightly beneath your touch and somehow that only makes this worse because for the first time since this whole thing started, he looks affected too.

Not smug. Not teasing.

Focused.

Your fingers fumble slightly against the belt and Jungkook’s eyes immediately flick downward, watching every tiny movement.

“You nervous, princess?” he asks quietly.

You glare up at him instantly. “Shut up.” A low chuckle leaves him but he lets you continue.

The buckle finally loosens beneath your shaky fingers and the sound alone feels way too loud in the quiet apartment. Jungkook’s jaw tightens slightly while you slowly pull the belt free from the loops, inch by inch.

The entire time, his eyes never leave your face. Not your hands. Your face. Watching you.

Watching your reactions. Your hesitation. The way your breathing keeps turning uneven every time he looks at you too long.

By the time the belt finally slips free completely, your pulse feels completely out of control.

You hold it awkwardly in your hands for a second before looking back up at him. Jungkook stares at you silently.

Then softly:

“Fuck.”

The word barely sounds human. Because suddenly he doesn’t look amused anymore. He looks like he just realized something.

His hand leaves your hair only to hook beneath your chin instead, thumb pressing lightly against your jaw while he studies your face with an intensity that makes your chest tighten painfully.

“You really would let me ruin you,” he murmurs quietly. The words send heat crashing through your entire body.

You should deny it, should argue. Should tell him he’s full of himself. Instead you just stay there, still kneeling between his legs while the belt hangs loosely from your fingers and Jungkook keeps looking at you like he’s seeing something dangerous unfold right in front of him.

His thumb slowly brushes along your jaw again. Then higher. Slowly tracing the line of your cheekbone.

And without even realizing it… you lean into his touch. The movement is tiny- instinctive.

But Jungkook notices immediately. Both of you freeze. Your breath catches the exact same moment something shifts in his expression. The amusement disappears completely and in its place comes something darker, rougher, almost stunned for half a second before a dangerous glint slowly settles into his eyes.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath. His voice sounds lower now. Rough.

Jungkook stares at your face still resting subtly against his hand like he can’t stop looking at it, thumb dragging once more across your cheek while his jaw tightens.

And then quietly, with terrifying certainty:

“You’re fucking mine from now on.” Your stomach drops violently. The words shouldn’t affect you this much.

They absolutely shouldn’t send heat rushing through your entire body hard enough to make your thighs press together instinctively.

But they do. God, they do.

Jungkook notices that too- a low curse leaves him while his hand suddenly tightens slightly against your jaw, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep your full attention locked onto him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs softly, eyes dragging slowly across your face. “Could’ve said no at any point tonight.”

Humiliation burns straight through you. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Jungkook just chuckles quietly. “Am I?”

His thumb presses briefly against your lower lip now and your breath immediately stutters again, the tension in the room turning almost unbearable.

“You crawled to me,” he says softly. “Undid my belt for me.” Another slow look over your face. “And then leaned into my hand like you fucking belong there.”

Heat floods your face so fast it almost hurts.“You’re crazy….”

“Maybe.” Completely calm. “Doesn’t change the fact I’m right.” You should push him away.

Instead you stay exactly where you are while Jungkook keeps holding your face like he already owns it and the realization alone makes your pulse spike even harder.

Something dark and satisfied flickers briefly across his expression while he watches you struggle to look away from him.

Then finally:

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly, almost to himself this time. “You have no idea what i’m gonna do to you.”

And somehow that promise destroys the last bit of self-control you have left inside of you, because this entire time there’s still been that tiny little thought in the back of your head whispering I can always walk out of here.

But right now?

That thin thread snaps completely and you have absolutely no intention of piecing it back together.

His eyes flicker toward his open belt and then back to your face and, like a silent command, your hands move to open the button of his pants before shakily freeing his hardened length from his boxers.

Jungkook goes completely still.

His focus stays entirely on your face, on the flush spreading across your cheeks while you stare at his cock. His hand glides from your jaw back into your hair, gathering it into a loose ponytail and pulling your attention back toward his eyes.

“Last chance,” he murmurs lowly. “You can get up and leave right now. But if you stay…” A small, harsh tug against your hair makes you gasp. “…I’m gonna ruin that throat of yours.”

A shaky breath leaves you, your eyes never leaving his while he searches your face and body for any sign of reluctance.

Instead, he realizes you already made your decision. He smirks.

His grip on your hair loosens slightly before he guides you toward his already leaking cock and your eyes immediately flick downward.

“Have you ever sucked dick before?” he asks, brow raised, and it makes you scoff instantly.

“Ugh, yes, asshole,” you snap back and he hums approvingly.

“Good. No need to go easy on you then.”

“Wha-”

His hips snap upward at the exact same moment he pushes your head down completely onto his cock. It happens so fast your brain barely has time to register what the fuck just happened while he holds your head down firmly and uses your mouth for a few harsh thrusts just as he pleases.

Your eyes snap shut and your hands instinctively try to push him away before he finally pulls you back up again, letting you gasp in a deep breath of air.

“What the fuck-” you cough out, tears already forming in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

“You said you sucked dick before.” He tilts his head slightly, voice completely unbothered.

You try to glare at him but before you can even open your mouth to snap back, his second hand grips your jaw while he leans forward until his face is dangerously close to yours.

“You can keep up that attitude of yours,” he murmurs calmly, “but I promise you, it’ll get even worse. Or…” His thumb wipes a thin string of saliva from your lips. “…you’ll be a good fucking girl and maybe I’ll even reward you later.”

His eyes darken slightly. “What’s it gonna be?”

He sees your internal struggle disappear the second your shoulders slowly relax and the frown fades from your face.

“Good choice,” he whispers against your lips before leaning back into the chair again, a dark smirk tugging at his mouth once more.

“Now… hands behind your back.”

You hesitate for only a second before scooting slightly closer and crossing your hands behind your back. His hand still holds your hair in that loose ponytail and this time he only guides your head downward without bucking his hips upward.

You choke softly when his tip hits the back of your throat and he hums lowly in approval.

“Breathe through your nose…”

You do. And somehow it actually gets easier as your jaw slowly adjusts to his size while his hand begins guiding your head up and down at a steady pace. Deep groans fill the room, mixing with the filthy wet sounds of your mouth around him.

“Just like that…” he breathes out.

The grip around your hair tightens slightly, enough to make your scalp sting, and a small pathetic sound escapes you that immediately makes Jungkook chuckle lowly. Every time he makes you choke around his cock, saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth while tears stain your flushed cheeks, he looks downright entertained by it.

Then suddenly, without warning, he pushes you down even further until your nose presses flush against his abdomen while he releases deep down your throat.

Your eyes squeeze shut while you focus entirely on breathing through your nose until he finally finishes.

The second his grip leaves your hair, you fall backward onto the floor, landing hard on your ass while trying to catch your breath and wipe tears from your cheeks.

“Whew…” Jungkook lets out a low whistle while grabbing a cigarette from the table beside him, looking down at you with open amusement.

His cock is still semi-hard, glistening in the dim light from saliva mixed with his release while he shamelessly manspreads in front of you.

“Not bad,” he finally says before taking a deep drag from his cigarette. You scoff immediately.

His eyes slowly drag over your body before finally returning to your face and the glare you send him only makes him laugh harder.

“I was your first, right?” he asks casually. “You never sucked dick before.”

“Yes I did!” you insist immediately, offended that he’d criticize your skills like that.

Jungkook squints slightly at you, amusement still written all over his face before lifting both hands in fake surrender.

“Okay, okay,” he drawls teasingly. “You weren’t half bad, princess.” A slow smirk spreads across his lips again. “Bet I was your first deepthroat though, huh?”

The pink tint spreading across your cheeks tells him everything he needs to know. A satisfied hum leaves him instantly.

Jungkook keeps watching you from the chair, cigarette balanced lazily between his fingers while smoke curls slowly through the dim apartment. The amused look on his face should irritate you more than it already does, especially after everything that just happened, but the warmth spreading through your body every time his eyes drag over you makes it difficult to hold onto your anger for very long.

Then finally, almost casually: “C’mere.”

Your pulse jumps instantly. Jungkook notices, of course, but doesn’t comment on it this time. He simply leans back further into the chair, spreading his legs slightly wider before tilting his head toward his lap.

“Sit.”

The command lands low in your stomach.

You hesitate for maybe half a second before slowly pushing yourself off the floor and moving toward him again. Jungkook watches every step carefully, eyes dark and focused while you climb into his lap awkwardly.

The second your weight settles against him, one of his hands immediately lands on your waist.

Firm. Possessive. Like he expects you there now.

His cigarette glows softly between his fingers while you instinctively wrinkle your nose at the smell.

Unfortunately for you… Jungkook catches that immediately. A slow grin spreads across his face.

“Oh?” he murmurs mockingly. “You got a problem with it, princess?”

You glare at him slightly. “It smells bad.”

“Yeah?” Completely unbothered.

Then the asshole deliberately lifts the cigarette toward his lips, taking a long drag while holding your gaze the entire time before slowly exhaling the smoke directly into your face.

You cough instantly. “Jungkook!” you complain, shoving lightly against his chest while smoke curls around the two of you.

He just laughs. Low. Mean. Completely entertained by your reaction.

You open your mouth to complain again but before a single word can leave your lips, Jungkook suddenly grabs the side of your neck and pulls you forward hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

Then he kisses you.

Roughly.

The cigarette smoke still lingers on his tongue when his lips crash against yours and your hands instinctively brace against his chest in surprise. Jungkook exhales softly through the kiss, smoke slipping into your mouth while his grip tightens slightly against your neck.

It should feel awful.

Instead it sends heat rushing straight through your body.

Your fingers curl tightly into the fabric of his shirt almost immediately and Jungkook notices that too, a low hum vibrating against your lips while the kiss deepens further.

More tongue.

More teeth.

Less restraint.

The hand on your waist drags you even closer against him while the one around your throat keeps you exactly where he wants you, your pulse jumping violently beneath his fingers.

And somehow the worst part? You’re kissing him back just as desperately.

Jungkook seems downright pleased by that realization because a rough chuckle leaves him halfway through the kiss before he tilts his head slightly, mouth moving hungrily against yours again.

“Knew you’d stop fighting eventually.” he murmurs softly against your lips.

Heat floods through your entire body. You should argue. Should shove him away.

Instead your fingers tighten harder in his shirt while you kiss him back again and Jungkook’s grin against your mouth turns almost vicious at how quickly you fold for him now.

The cigarette still burns lazily between two of his fingers somewhere beside your face, smoke curling through the dim apartment while his hand around your throat keeps you exactly where he wants you.

And somehow that’s the worst part- The control. The terrifying ease of it.

Because other boys usually lose composure around you first. They trip over themselves trying to touch you, trying to impress you, trying to earn your attention while you decide exactly how much affection they get.

But Jungkook? Jungkook barely seems affected at all. Even now, with your body pressed tightly against him and your breathing uneven into his mouth, he still looks maddeningly calm.

Like he already knows how this ends.

The realization makes heat curl lower in your stomach and Jungkook notices immediately because of course he does.

A low hum leaves him against your lips before his hand slowly slides from your waist down toward your thigh. Your pulse jumps when he grips it firmly and drags your leg slightly higher over his own.

Then he pauses. Your breath catches instantly. Jungkook leans back just enough to look at you properly now, dark eyes dragging slowly across your face while your chest rises and falls unevenly.

And then the asshole smirks. “There she is,” he murmurs softly. “Was wondering when you’d stop pretending.”

Heat floods your face immediately. “Shut up.”

Jungkook chuckles lowly while taking another slow drag from his cigarette. The hand around your throat loosens slightly, fingers brushing lazily along your skin while his thigh shifts upward just enough to press between your legs.

Your breath stutters. The grin on his face sharpens instantly.

“Oh?” he murmurs mockingly. “That got your attention?” You hate him. Mostly because he’s right.

Jungkook watches your entire internal struggle happen in real time before casually leaning back further into the chair, cigarette balanced between his fingers while one eyebrow lifts slightly.

“You’re that desperate to cum?” he asks softly. Humiliation burns through you immediately.

“You’re unbelievable…” you breathe through clenched teeth.

“And you’re needy.” Completely calm. “Interesting combination.”

Your thighs instinctively press together and Jungkook notices that too, gaze flicking downward briefly before a rough chuckle leaves him.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he mutters. “Look at you.”

Heat coils tighter and tighter in your stomach while he just sits there watching you, barely touching you at all.

Then finally:

“Go on.”

Your eyes snap toward his instantly. Jungkook tilts his head slightly, expression almost amused now.

“Take it yourself.”

Your stomach flips violently. For a second you just stare at him, shocked by how casually he says it, but Jungkook only looks back at you expectantly while smoke curls lazily from the cigarette between his fingers.

“Thought you wanted it,” he murmurs softly. “Or was all that attitude just for show?”

The words hit exactly where he knows they will. Because suddenly you need to prove something. Need to prove him wrong.

Slowly, hesitantly, your hips shift once against his thigh. Jungkook’s eyes darken immediately.

Humiliation burns straight through you but the friction sends another dangerous wave of heat through your body and your fingers tighten harder in his shirt before your hips move again.

And again.

Jungkook watches the entire thing silently at first, cigarette resting lazily near his lips while you slowly unravel in his lap. Every tiny movement against his clothed thigh makes your breathing rougher, weaker, until eventually you stop caring how embarrassing this is.

Your forehead drops briefly against his shoulder with a quiet whine and Jungkook lets out the roughest fucking chuckle.

“What happened to all that bratty bullshit, huh?” he murmurs near your ear. “Thought you hated me.”

You do. You absolutely do. And somehow that only makes this worse.

Your movements become more desperate without you even realizing it, grinding harder against his thigh while Jungkook barely does anything except sit there and let you use him.

The power imbalance nearly destroys you. Especially because he knows it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs softly, voice rougher now while his hand tightens slightly against your waist. “Getting this fucked up over my leg.”

Heat crashes through your entire body. You hide your face against his shoulder instantly but Jungkook just laughs again, completely entertained by your embarrassment.

“No no,” he murmurs mockingly. “Don’t get shy now.”

Another slow grind against his thigh pulls a pathetic sound from your throat and Jungkook visibly enjoys that far too much.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly. “You’re actually soaking this up.”

Your entire body burns. And still you keep moving. At this point your brain barely functions anymore, every drag against his thigh pushing you closer and closer while Jungkook watches you fall apart with that same terrifying calmness he always has.

Then finally the pressure snaps.

Your body jerks sharply against him while you gasp against his shoulder, fingers clutching desperately at his shirt as the orgasm crashes through you hard enough to leave your head spinning.

Jungkook holds you steady through all of it, one hand firm against your waist while the other still loosely holds the cigarette between his fingers.

And the worst part? He looks pleased. Actually pleased.

You’re still trying to catch your breath when Jungkook finally glances downward toward his pants before letting out a low amused hum.

“Tsk tsk tsk…” he murmurs softly. Humiliation immediately crawls back up your spine.

“You made a fucking mess on my pants.”

You want the floor to swallow you whole.

Jungkook just chuckles quietly before brushing his thumb slowly along your jaw again, eyes dragging lazily over your flushed face.

“Good thing I like messy girls.”

Your breathing still hasn’t fully recovered by the time Jungkook finally crushes the cigarette into the ashtray beside him. The room smells like smoke and sweat now, thick tension still lingering in the air while you remain curled halfway against his chest, too embarrassed to properly look at him after what just happened.

Meanwhile Jungkook looks perfectly fine. Completely composed. Like watching you unravel in his lap barely affected him at all, which somehow makes the humiliation worse.

A low chuckle leaves him when he notices you avoiding eye contact and then his hand suddenly reaches up, fingers brushing lightly through your hair. The movement catches you off guard immediately because after everything else tonight, the softness feels almost cruel.

“C’mere,” he murmurs quietly.

Before you can even react properly, he’s already fixing the strands of hair sticking messily to your face, thumb brushing beneath your eye where your mascara smudged slightly. His expression stays calm the entire time, focused in that terrifyingly casual way of his while he puts you back together like he has every right to.

A strange heat curls through your chest when his hand smooths down the side of your skirt next, adjusting the fabric back into place before tugging it lower over your thighs. The gesture feels far too intimate after everything else that happened tonight, possessive in a way that makes your pulse flutter unevenly beneath your skin.

Jungkook notices immediately.

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly while his gaze drags slowly across your face.

“Look at you,” he murmurs softly, almost amused now.

Heat rushes into your cheeks and you hate how weak you feel right now, how boneless, how easily your body keeps responding to him no matter how hard you try to fight it. Somehow the worst part is that Jungkook clearly loves watching it happen.

His hand settles briefly against your waist before he finally leans back in the chair again, eyes still fixed on you while satisfaction lingers quietly beneath his expression.

“We’re done for today,” he says casually before adding, “see you tomorrow in english, princess.”

The nickname lands low in your stomach exactly like always.

You immediately roll your eyes to hide it, pushing yourself awkwardly out of his lap before grabbing your bag from beside the desk. Your legs still feel weak and Jungkook definitely notices from the amused look on his face, but thankfully he doesn’t comment on it this time.

You make it all the way to the door before glancing back at him one last time. He’s already lighting another cigarette, spread lazily in the chair like he owns the entire fucking room.

“Text me when you get home,” he says casually before taking a drag.

You scoff immediately, rolling your eyes dramatically while pulling the door open slightly.

“Or what?”

The words barely leave your mouth before everything happens at once.

The door suddenly slams shut again with a violent bang beside your head and your breath catches sharply as Jungkook’s large hand presses flat against the wood right next to you. One second he was across the room and the next he’s right there, towering over you so fast it makes your chest tighten painfully.

Jungkook grabs your chin harshly before turning you back toward him and the sudden movement forces a startled gasp from your lips. His fingers tighten just enough to keep your full attention on him while his face stays terrifyingly calm.

That’s the worst part- not angry not shouting. Just cold certainty.

His eyes lock onto yours while smoke slowly curls from his lips and then, low enough to send ice straight down your spine, he murmurs:

“I know where you live.”

A sharp chill rushes through your body.

Jungkook’s thumb presses harder against your jaw when your breathing turns uneven.

“Don’t make me come look for you.”

The words sink beneath your skin like poison, sounding equally like a threat and a promise, and horrifyingly enough, you believe him instantly. Because he absolutely would. He’d show up at the sorority house without hesitation, cigarette between his lips and that same bored expression on his face while dragging you outside in front of everyone if you ignored him.

Jungkook watches the realization spread slowly across your face and something darkly pleased flickers through his expression.

“That’s better,” he murmurs softly.

Your breath catches again and after several unbearable seconds, you finally give the tiniest nod imaginable.

Jungkook notices immediately.

The grip on your chin loosens slightly before his thumb brushes once along your jaw in a gesture that feels almost rewarding.

“Good girl.”

The praise melts straight through you.

And then, like he didn’t just threaten to hunt you down himself, Jungkook calmly opens the door for you again.

➻ taglist for stupid little girl

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“…and please remember that the upcoming project next month will count heavily toward your final grade, so make sure to familiarize yourselves with the material early enough. okay, that’s it for today. class dismissed.”

The professor gives the class a small smile before chairs immediately screech across the floor and students begin gathering their things. Conversations slowly fill the lecture hall while bags zip shut and notebooks disappear into backpacks. You shove your notebook into your bag and are just about to leave when you hear your name.

Your head turns toward the professor instantly.“Yes?”

“Do you have a minute?”

You nod quickly, and she waits until the last student leaves the room before taking a paper from the stack beside her and sliding it across the desk toward you. Your essay.

“I reviewed your paper from last week,” she says carefully, pushing her glasses slightly higher up her nose, “and unfortunately… I still don’t see much improvement from your previous work.”

Your stomach sinks immediately. You stare down at the paper while folding your hands in your lap, trying not to cringe at the red markings scattered across the pages.

“I know you’re trying,” she continues gently. “You always take notes, you participate in discussions… honestly, you’re one of the few students who actually listens to everything I say.”

The small compliment barely softens the blow.

“…but this,” she sighs softly, tapping a finger against the paper, “is not enough to pass. and the essay next month is worth even more.”

“I understand,” you mumble quietly. And you do. That’s the worst part.

Every other class comes naturally to you. You’ve never struggled academically before, never needed help, never been anything less than one of the best students in the room.

Except here.

The professor studies you sympathetically for a moment before speaking again. “I may have a solution.”

Your brows lift slightly.

“There’s someone who could tutor you,” she explains. “One of my best students. Honestly, probably the most naturally talented writer I’ve taught in years.”

You nod automatically. “That would actually be really helpful, thank you.”

She gives you a small smile before reaching for another paper on her desk. “I’ll send him your contact information then.”

You grab your bag and finally leave the lecture hall, already mentally preparing yourself to spend the next month studying with some pretentious academic nerd who probably corrects people’s grammar for fun.

Unfortunately for you… that is not who waits in the cafeteria downstairs.

The cafeteria is loud when you walk in, music blasting from someone’s phone in the corner while groups of students crowd around tables laughing over lunch and unfinished assignments. Your friends wave you over immediately from one of the tables near the windows.

“There she is,” Soomin grins. “Took you long enough.”

You drop into the empty seat beside her with a sigh. “Mrs. Higgins held me back.”

“Uh oh.” Minji winces dramatically. “That bad?”

You stab your straw into your iced coffee harder than necessary. “She basically told me my essay sucks.”

“Ouch.”

“She’s assigning me a tutor.”

That gets everyone’s attention immediately.

“A tutor?” Soomin blinks. “You?”

“Exactly.” You slump back in your chair with a groan. “This is humiliating.”

“Maybe he’ll be cute,” Minji offers unhelpfully.

“I don’t need cute. I need someone to stop me from failing.”

“Fair.”

You grab your drink and glance around the cafeteria absentmindedly while your friends continue talking, only for your gaze to suddenly snag on a familiar figure sitting several tables away.

Black hoodie. Tattooed arms. Pierced lip. One boot lazily hooked over the empty chair beside him. Jeon Jungkook.

Unfortunately.

He leans back in his seat while one of his frat friends talks loudly beside him, a cigarette tucked behind his ear despite campus rules he very obviously doesn’t care about.

And somehow, even from across the cafeteria, he looks arrogant. Like the human embodiment of bad decisions.

You’ve never spoken more than three sentences to him before, but honestly, that’s already been more than enough.

Everybody knows Jungkook- The frat boy with perfect grades. The asshole with scholarship-level academic scores. The guy professors adore despite the fact he looks like he should be kicked out of at least three establishments daily.

Your eyes narrow slightly.

“Why are you glaring at Jungkook?” Minji asks immediately.

“I’m not glaring.”

“You are absolutely glaring.”

Before you can answer, your phone buzzes against the table.

Unknown Number: ‘mrs. higgins gave me your contact. jungkook’

Your entire body stills.

No. Absolutely not.

You look up instantly. Across the cafeteria, Jungkook is already staring directly at you like he knew the exact second you’d read the message.

The bastard even smirks.

“Oh my god,” Soomin gasps beside you. “NO WAY.”

“There’s no way what?” Minji immediately asks.

Soomin points dramatically across the cafeteria.“THAT’S her tutor.”

Your friends collectively lose their minds while you stare at Jungkook in horror.

“No.”

“Yes,” Soomin wheezes. “Oh, you are SO fucked.”

You ignore her immediately and push yourself up from the table before your irritation can cool off, because absolutely not. There is no universe where you let Jeon Jungkook think he has any sort of power in this situation.

His friends notice you approaching first. One of them lets out a low, entertained: “Ooooooh.”

Another outright laughs.

Jungkook doesn’t move though. He just watches you approach slowly, expression unreadable while lazily spinning his phone across the table. The closer you get, the more annoying he becomes.

Too pretty. Too calm. Too aware of himself.

You stop directly beside his table. “You’re going to tutor me for the essay Mrs. Higgins mentioned.”

No hello. No politeness. Jungkook’s eyebrow lifts slightly.

“So let’s just get this over with,” you continue smoothly. “My place tomorrow night. Six o’clock. Be on time or-”

A hand suddenly covers your mouth- your entire brain short-circuits.

The cafeteria goes dead quiet around you.

Jungkook doesn’t even look remotely bothered. One tattooed hand rests lazily over your mouth while he leans back in his chair, eyes half-lidded with boredom.

“Be quiet,” he says calmly. Your eyes widen immediately. Nobody moves, nobody speaks.

Apparently nobody in this cafeteria is insane enough to interrupt Jeon Jungkook once he decides something.

Slowly, his gaze drags over your face before he tilts his head slightly. “Has no one ever taught you manners?”

Heat floods your face instantly, humiliation and anger twisting together with something much worse. You shove his hand away immediately.

“Excuse me?” you snap. “Who the hell do you think you-”

“Yeah, no,” Jungkook interrupts casually. “I’m sacrificing my free time for you, princess.”

Princess.

The nickname lands somewhere dangerous in your stomach.

“My place,” he continues smoothly. “Tomorrow. Six o’clock.” Then finally:

“Be late and we’re done.”

For a second you just stand there, completely stunned while your brain struggles to catch up with what just happened. The feeling of his hand against your mouth still burns into your skin while a few of his friends exchange amused looks, one of them outright snorting into his drink.

Jungkook ignores all of them. He already looks done with the conversation, like dismissing you publicly was the most natural thing in the world. Which somehow makes it even worse.

Heat crawls furiously up your neck as you glare at him one last time before turning sharply on your heel and stomping back toward your table. The second you sit down, your friends practically launch themselves at you.

“Oh my god,” Minji whisper-yells immediately. “What the fuck just happened?!”

“Did he seriously put his hand over your mouth?!” Soomin gasps.

“He did NOT just call you princess.”

Your face burns hotter. “Who the hell does he think he is?” you hiss furiously while throwing your bag down beside you. “The fucking audacity of that asshole-”

Across the cafeteria, Jungkook glances toward you again. Just once. And the smirk tugging briefly at the corner of his mouth is enough to make your stomach twist violently because he knows.

The bastard actually knows; knows you’re angry, knows you’re humiliated. And somehow knows exactly what that did to you too. Then he looks away again, attention shifting back toward his friends like you’re no longer important enough to focus on.

Which should not irritate you this much. It absolutely should not make heat pool low in your stomach either. But unfortunately, your body seems deeply committed to betraying you today.

You shift slightly in your seat, thighs pressing together instinctively while trying to focus on literally anything else.

God.

You hate him already. You hate the way he talks, the way he looks at you, the way he somehow managed to shut you up in front of an entire cafeteria without even raising his voice.

And worst of all? A tiny, deeply embarrassing part of you is already replaying:

be quiet.

over and over and over again…

Thursday somehow passes even slower than usual, mostly because you spend the entire day irritated. At Jungkook. At Mrs. Higgins. At yourself for thinking about him way more than necessary.

Unfortunately, none of that stops you from showing up at your sorority house later that evening while helping your friends prepare decorations for tomorrow’s party. Music plays loudly from someone’s speaker while streamers and fairy lights are scattered all over the living room floor.

Minji sits cross-legged on the couch blowing up balloons with visible regret. “This is how I die,” she mutters dramatically before tying one off.

“You’re so brave,” you deadpan while taping another decoration to the wall.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket.

Boyfriend 💙: good luck with tutoring tonight :) call me later?

A tiny smile pulls at your lips automatically.

You quickly type back:

i will 💕 miss me while i’m suffering pls

Minji notices immediately. “Ooooooh.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“How is he?” Soomin asks from the floor. “Is he coming tomorrow?”

“Yeah, probably.”

Minji grins immediately. “And?” she asks. “Will you finally do it?”

You blink. “Do what?”

“Oh please.” She throws a balled-up ribbon at you. “You’ve been dating for what now? Three months?”

You raise one eyebrow slowly. “So?”

“So,” Minji repeats dramatically, “normal people would’ve slept together by now.”

A laugh escapes you.

“Please,” you scoff while reaching for another strand of lights. “Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean i’m gonna throw myself at him.”

“So cruel,” Soomin gasps.

You shrug casually. “Maybe i want him desperate enough to get on his knees for me first.”

The room erupts immediately:

“DAMN.”

“OH MY GOD.”

“You little menace.”

You grin proudly while your friends whistle and holler dramatically around you. “Yeah yeah,” you laugh. “You all love me for it. Now help me with the decorations.”

Minji suddenly pauses. “…wait.”

Your stomach sinks instinctively.

“You have tutoring with Jungkook in like thirty minutes, don’t you?”

Immediately your mood worsens. “Ugh,” you groan loudly. “Don’t remind me.”

“You better not be late,” Soomin warns.

You wave her off dismissively while grabbing another balloon. “Please. I’m sure a few minutes won’t kill that asshole.”

Forty minutes later, you stand outside his apartment with an iced coffee in your hand while waiting for him to open the door. The hallway smells faintly like smoke and you barely have time to adjust your bag before the door swings open.

And there he is- Black shirt. Grey sweats. Piercings glinting underneath the dim hallway light.

Jungkook leans against the doorframe lazily before his eyes immediately flick toward the clock behind you and then back to your face.

“You’re late.”

No hello. Of course.

You shrug casually while taking another sip from your iced coffee. “Had errands to run.”

“Hm.” His eyes drop toward the drink in your hand.“Iced coffee?”

Before you can react, he takes it straight from your fingers and lifts it above his head casually.

Your jaw drops. “Hey!” You immediately reach for it, but Jungkook easily steps back out of range. “Give it back!”

He presses two fingers lightly against your forehead, stopping you from getting closer while looking completely unimpressed.

“You’re late,” he repeats calmly. “And i’m not wasting my time with you today.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “…what?”

“Come back tomorrow when you learn how to read a clock, dumb little girl.”

And then he slams the door directly in your face.

Silence.

You stand there staring at the closed door for a full second, your brain visibly lagging behind reality.

“…what?!”

You knock once. Then harder.

“Jungkook!” Nothing.

“You cannot be serious right now!” Still nothing.

Your irritation spikes violently. “You bastard!” you yell while pounding against the door again. “Open the fucking door!”

A muffled voice finally comes from inside. “Get lost.”

You let out a genuinely high-pitched sound of frustration before glaring at the door like you might commit actual violence. And somehow your stomach twists anyway.

God. You hate him.

You hate how calm he sounded, how easily he dismissed you, how your pulse immediately sped up when he pushed you back with two fingers like you weighed nothing.

Worst of all? The asshole kept your coffee.

By the time you stomp back into the sorority house twenty minutes later, your friends immediately look up in confusion.

“…back already?” Minji asks slowly.

Your face burns instantly. You quickly look away while tossing your bag onto the couch. “Yeah, ugh,” you mumble. “He got sick apparently. We’re meeting tomorrow instead.”

Nobody looks convinced. “Right…” Soomin says suspiciously.

You immediately start walking toward the stairs.“I’m in my room,” you announce dramatically. “Do not disturb me.”

Then you disappear upstairs before anybody can ask more questions. Your bedroom door closes behind you with a sharp click and immediately you throw yourself onto the bed with an irritated groan, burying your face into the pillow before rolling onto your back dramatically.

What an asshole. An actual, genuine asshole.

You stare up at the ceiling while replaying the entire interaction against your will.

‘you’re late’

God. The worst part is how calm he sounded. Not angry, not annoyed, just completely unimpressed by you.

Your phone buzzes against the bed beside you before you can spiral any further.

Boyfriend 💙 calling…

The tension in your shoulders softens automatically. You answer after the second ring.

“Hey,” you mumble quietly.

“There she is,” his warm voice laughs softly through the speaker. “How’d tutoring go?”

Your stomach twists instantly. “…fine.”

Lie. Complete lie.

You roll onto your side while tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder, absentmindedly tracing circles into your blanket with your fingertips.

“Just boring?”

“Mhm.”

Another lie.

Your boyfriend hums softly. “Well, at least you survived your first session.”

Barely.

You close your eyes briefly and unfortunately, instead of focusing on your sweet, patient boyfriend, your brain decides to replay Jungkook leaning against the doorway again.

Black shirt. Pierced lip. Tattooed fingers holding your iced coffee just out of reach.

‘dumb little girl’

Heat curls low in your stomach instantly. Oh god. You squeeze your eyes shut harder.

“What’re you thinking about?” your boyfriend asks softly.

You nearly choke. “Nothing.” A sigh slips out before you can stop it. Not romantic. Frustrated.

Your boyfriend immediately notices. “Sweetheart?” he asks gently. “You okay?”

Your eyes snap open. “Yeah,” you answer quickly. “Fine, sorry. My laptop just froze on me.”

A beat of silence passes before a soft laugh comes through the speaker. “You sound traumatized.” If only he knew.

You force out a weak laugh before sitting up abruptly. “I still have homework to finish,” you mumble quickly. “I should probably go.”

“Alright.” He sounds slightly disappointed but still sweet about it. “Call me tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, pretty girl.”

The call ends.

And the second the room falls quiet again, your brain goes right back to him.

Jungkook.

Annoying. Arrogant. Mean.

The kind of guy you’d normally avoid on instinct.

And yet your thighs press together anyway as you stare blankly at the wall. You should be angry.

Instead you’re still thinking about:

‘be quiet’

Still thinking about the way he pushed you back with two fingers against your forehead like you were something irritating and manageable.

Your stomach twists harder.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mutter to yourself and yet your hand wanders down beneath your pants, fingers dipping between your soaking folds as you bite back a moan. You find your sensitive nub, starting to circle around it while imagining his large hand wrapped around your neck, whispering filthy, degrading things into your ear.

‘dumb little girl…’

His voice loops through your brain like a broken record.

‘i’m not wasting my time with you today…’

Your fingers increase their speed instinctively, bringing you closer and closer to your release as you imagine yourself kneeling before him, letting him use you however he pleases.

“Oh fuck…” you choke out softly, your orgasm approaching rapidly while his face burns itself deeper and deeper into your mind.

‘be quiet ’

‘dumb little girl’

‘get lost’

You shove your face into your pillow as a string of moans and curse words spills from your lips, your orgasm crashing over you in intense waves while humiliation and pleasure twist together painfully inside your stomach. You stare up at the ceiling again, cheeks burning while your pulse slowly settles.

All that… over Jeon Jungkook.

A guy you’ve known for less than two days. An asshole who stole your coffee and slammed a door in your face.

You drag both hands over your face with a miserable groan. “…i hate him.”

Friday evening arrives way too quickly.

You spend far too long standing in front of your closet before finally settling on an outfit that’s technically for the sorority party later tonight.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

Not the fact that you redo your hair twice. Not the fact that you spend extra time on your makeup. Not the fact that your stomach twists nervously every time you think about seeing him again.

It’s for the party. Obviously.

Five minutes earlier than yesterday, you stand outside Jungkook’s apartment while mentally preparing yourself not to let him get under your skin this time.

Then the door opens and your brain immediately short-circuits: he’s hirtless.

The first thing you notice are the tattoos stretching across his chest and arms before your gaze drops lower toward the grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips.

Oh. Oh, fuck me.

For one horrifying second, your mind flashes back to last night- your hand between your legs, his voice in your head: ‘…dumb little girl…’

Heat rushes through your body so fast it’s almost humiliating.

Jungkook catches you staring instantly. Of course he does. A slow smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Want a picture?” he asks lazily. “Lasts longer.”

Your brain snaps back into focus immediately.“Shut up,” you mutter while brushing past him into the apartment.

Behind you, he laughs quietly under his breath.

The apartment looks annoyingly organized; his desk is already set up neatly with papers, books and highlighted notes spread out across the surface like some kind of academic crime scene.

Jungkook gestures toward the chair. “Sit.”

“You know saying please won’t kill you.”

“You know being annoying won’t make you smarter.”

Your jaw tightens instantly. That asshole. You drop into the chair anyway while Jungkook casually grabs a black shirt from the couch and pulls it over his head. Unfortunately, that somehow makes him even more attractive, which feels deeply unfair.

He notices you staring again in the reflection of his dark computer screen. “You always this distracted around hot people?”

“I’m distracted by how unfortunate your personality is.”

“Hm.” Jungkook sits down beside you before glancing at your outfit slowly. “Interesting choice of clothes for tutoring.”

You immediately roll your eyes. “I’m going to a party afterwards.”

“Sure you are.”

Your brows furrow instantly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungkook leans back lazily in his chair. “It means you spent two hours getting ready to sit at my desk and pretend you hate me.”

Heat creeps up your neck immediately. “I did not spend two hours getting ready.”

“Mm.” Completely unconvinced. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess.” You glare at him.

He ignores it effortlessly before pulling your essay toward himself. “Alright,” he sighs. “Let’s see how bad this actually is.”

“I passed.”

“Barely.”

Your eye twitches. Jungkook flips through several pages quietly before suddenly tapping one paragraph with his pen.

“This sentence is awful.”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “What inspiring tutoring.”

“It’s repetitive, overexplained and trying too hard to sound intelligent.” He glances at you briefly. “Kinda like you.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” he says calmly, “i’m still the one fixing your grade.” God. You hate him.

You hate how good he is at this too. Because unfortunately… the second Jungkook actually starts explaining things properly, you immediately understand why professors love him so much.

He’s annoyingly smart.

Not textbook smart, not memorization smart but naturally smart. The kind that makes difficult concepts sound easy while barely even trying.

And somehow that’s hotter than the tattoos. Which is deeply upsetting.

“You keep doing this thing,” Jungkook says while leaning closer to your laptop screen, “where you write what you think sounds smart instead of what you actually mean.”

His arm brushes against yours lightly and your brain immediately stops working.

“…what?”

“There.” He taps the screen. “You overcomplicate everything because you’re scared simple writing won’t sound impressive enough.”

Your brows slowly pull together because annoyingly enough… he’s right.

Jungkook notices your expression instantly. “Oh wow,” he murmurs mockingly. “Look at that. Tiny little brain finally working.”

“Fuck you.”

“See? That sentence was clear and concise.”

Your glare deepens immediately while Jungkook only smirks faintly before turning back toward the screen. “Alright,” he says casually, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Rewrite this paragraph.”

You scoff softly. “Right now?”

“No,” he deadpans. “Next year.”

The irritation bubbling inside your chest only gets worse as you aggressively pull the laptop closer, fingers immediately flying across the keyboard while Jungkook leans back in his chair beside you.

The silence lasts all of thirty seconds. Then:

“Wrong.”

Your head snaps toward him. “You didn’t even read it yet!”

“I saw enough.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable.”

“And you’re dramatic. Keep typing.”

You mutter something deeply insulting underneath your breath while deleting half the paragraph again.

Beside you, Jungkook looks entirely too entertained. “What was that?”

“I said you have horrible teaching methods.”

“Hm.” He leans forward slightly, one tattooed arm resting against the desk while his eyes drag slowly over the screen. “And yet you’re listening to everything i say.”

Your fingers pause briefly over the keyboard. Jungkook notices immediately.

“You get all quiet when you’re thinking too hard,” he murmurs lazily.

“I’m trying to work.”

“No,” he says calmly. “You’re trying not to react.”

Heat crawls straight up your neck but you refuse to look at him. “That ego is insane.”

“And i’m right.”

Unfortunately… he is.

The problem is that every single interaction with Jungkook feels like getting backed into a corner slowly.

Not rushed. Not obvious. Just controlled. Intentional.

Like he enjoys watching you lose composure piece by piece.

You force yourself to focus back on the essay instead. Ten whole minutes pass before Jungkook suddenly reaches over you, grabbing your wrist lightly before you can type the next sentence.

“Don’t use that word.”

Your entire body stills instantly. His hand is warm. Firm. Way too distracting.

“…why?”

“Because it sounds stupid.”

You slowly turn toward him. “You know, most tutors don’t insult people this much.”

“Most students aren’t this spoiled.”

The word lands directly in your stomach.

Spoiled.

Not princess this time. Not dumb little girl. Spoiled. Like he’s figured you out already.

Your eyes narrow slightly. “You think you know me after two conversations?”

Jungkook hums softly while finally letting go of your wrist. “I know enough.”

“Oh yeah?” you shoot back immediately. “And what exactly do you know?”

“That you hate hearing no.” His eyes flick toward you calmly. “That nobody tells you what to do.”

Your jaw tightens. “And?”

“And I think you secretly enjoy that I do.”

The room suddenly feels way too warm. You stare at him for a second too long before scoffing and turning back toward the screen.

“You’re delusional.”

“Mm.” That stupid hum again. Like he doesn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth. It’s infuriating.

And somehow your pulse still jumps when his chair rolls closer beside yours again.

“You missed another mistake,” he says quietly, leaning in just enough that his shoulder brushes yours once more. Your breathing catches slightly.

Not because of the mistake. Because he smells unfairly good. Clean laundry. Smoke. Something warm underneath it.

“You gonna keep staring at the screen,” Jungkook murmurs lazily, “or are you actually gonna fix it?”

Your grip tightens around the pen immediately. “I hate you.”

A quiet laugh leaves him. “No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Hm.” Jungkook leans back slightly in his chair, eyes dragging slowly over your face before settling on your mouth for one dangerous second too long. “Then focus that dumb little brain of yours.”

And before you can react his hand lands lightly against your thigh.

A quick slap.

Not hard. Barely anything. But your entire body freezes instantly.

Oh.

Jungkook notices too: The way your thighs tense. The tiny hitch in your breathing. The split second where your brain completely shuts off.

A slow smile spreads across his face. Dangerous. Interested.

“Well, well…”

Heat floods your entire body immediately. “Shut up.”

“That did something, huh?”

“No, it didn’t.” The lie sounds weak even to your own ears.

Jungkook leans closer slowly, elbow resting against the desk while his gaze stays fixed directly on your face now. “You’re terrible at hiding things.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“You almost stopped breathing.”

Your stomach twists violently. God. This is humiliating.

Jungkook watches you for another second before finally leaning back again, looking deeply entertained now.

And then-

“Oh.”

The sound leaves him softly. Thoughtfully. Like he just solved something.

Your brows furrow instantly. “Oh what?”

His tongue presses slowly against the inside of his cheek before he grins. “You like being talked down to.”

Your face burns immediately. “I absolutely do not.”

“Hm.” Completely unconvinced. “That’s interesting.”

“You’re insane.”

“No,” Jungkook says calmly while spinning the pen between his fingers again. “I just pay attention.”

And unfortunately… he does. Way too much. The atmosphere shifts after that. Subtly. Dangerously. Like Jungkook suddenly starts testing reactions on purpose now:

“You missed another mistake.”

“Jesus, are you even trying?”

“Use your head, princess.”

“There you go. Tiny brain’s finally waking up.”

Every insult sends irritation and heat crashing together violently inside your chest. And the worst part? Jungkook can tell.

Every single time.

Because now there’s amusement lingering underneath every word he says. Like he’s slowly figuring you out piece by piece.

Then finally-

after an hour of him bullying your essay into something readable, you fix a sentence before he can correct it.

Jungkook stills slightly. “Huh.”

You glance toward him suspiciously. “What?”

“That was actually good.” The praise hits you so hard it’s embarrassing. Your entire body softens instantly before you can stop it.

And Jungkook catches it immediately:

The brief widening of your eyes, the way your shoulders relax, the tiny shift in your expression.

Silence.

Then slowly… his grin returns. Oh no.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs softly.

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“You’re even worse with praise.”

Heat explodes across your face instantly. “I hate you so much.”

Jungkook laughs quietly under his breath while leaning back in his chair again, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Cute.”

The atmosphere shifts completely after that. Not playful anymore. Not even teasing. It turns sharp.

Dangerous.

Every little comment from Jungkook feels deliberate now, like he’s carefully pressing against invisible buttons just to watch how you react.

And the worst part? You think he enjoys your reactions more than the tutoring itself.

“There,” he says lazily while pointing at your screen. “That sentence doesn’t sound completely stupid anymore.”

You glare at him immediately. “You are such an asshole.”

“And yet your legs squeeze together every time i insult you.” Your entire body locks up.

Jungkook smirks slowly. “Thought so.”

“Shut up.”

“No.” The answer comes instantly, casually, and somehow that only makes heat crawl higher up your neck.

You turn back toward the laptop quickly before he notices how badly your pulse just jumped again. Unfortunately… he notices everything.

The room falls quiet for a few seconds except for the sound of typing before your phone suddenly vibrates loudly against the desk.

You barely glance toward it before Jungkook grabs it first. “Hey-”

He leans back in his chair while reading the screen casually. Then he huffs out an amused laugh.

“Oh, cute.” His eyes flick toward you lazily. “Your boyfriend’s asking where you’re at.”

“Give me that!” you snap immediately while lunging toward him.

Jungkook catches both your wrists effortlessly before you can grab the phone back and suddenly you’re shoved back down into the chair again.

Your breath catches sharply.

“Unbelievable,” he murmurs while shaking his head slightly. “You got a sweet boyfriend and still came here dressed like a slut.” Heat explodes through your body instantly.

“You really are desperate, huh?”

“Are you insane?!” you snap furiously while trying to pry his hand off your wrists. “As if i’d waste my time with some asshole like you-”

Suddenly Jungkook yanks you forward by your wrists hard enough that you nearly end up in his lap. Your breath stutters instantly.

Way too close- his face hovers right in front of yours now, dark eyes locked onto yours while his grip tightens slightly around your wrists.

“Careful with that attitude, princess,” he says lowly. “I don’t fucking care that you got a boyfriend. Imma put you into place right here, right now.”

Your stomach twists violently.

Jungkook’s tongue drags slowly across his lip piercing while watching your expression unravel in real time. “So,” he murmurs softly, “what’s it gonna be?”

Your pulse pounds harder.

“You gonna apologize for that attitude,” he continues quietly, “or should I actually put you over my knee?”

Your brain completely stalls. “Oh my god…” you whisper breathlessly.

Jungkook only tilts his head slightly. “Well?”

“You wouldn’t da-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he interrupts with a low chuckle. “We both know I absolutely would.”

And somehow? That’s the problem. Because looking at him right now… you believe him.

Completely.

The realization sends another wave of heat straight through your body while embarrassment and arousal twist together so intensely it almost makes you dizzy.

Jungkook watches the entire internal battle happen across your face. And he enjoys every second of it.

You stare at him for several long seconds, trying desperately to think straight again before finally whispering:

“…i’m sorry.”

His eyebrow lifts slightly. “For?”

Your cheeks burn hotter. “The attitude…”

Silence.

Then slowly Jungkook nods once. “Good girl.”

The praise hits infinitely worse than the degradation ever did. Your entire body softens involuntarily before he suddenly lets go of your wrists completely.

You stumble backward into the chair while trying to catch your breath and Jungkook just watches you calmly for a second before standing up from his seat.

“We’re done for today,” he says casually like he didn’t just completely destroy your ability to think.

Your eyes snap toward him. “What?”

“I’m not in town over the weekend.” He grabs his cigarettes and lighter from the kitchen counter. “See you monday. Six o’clock sharp.”

Then finally, while glancing back toward you:“Don’t be late or else.”

Your stomach twists again. The threat shouldn’t sound as attractive as it does.

Jungkook heads toward the balcony before sliding the door open. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to find the door yourself,” he says lazily over his shoulder. “Have fun at the party, princess.”

The smirk he sends you is devastating. Then he steps outside onto the balcony and leaves you sitting there alone in complete silence.

For several seconds, you can’t move. Can barely breathe properly. Your wrists still tingle where he held them while your brain desperately tries to process what the hell just happened in this apartment.

Eventually you gather your things with shaky hands before standing up from the chair.

And even while leaving his apartment… you can still hear his voice looping through your head:

‘good girl’

By the time you arrive at the sorority party, the music is already shaking the walls. The house is crowded, warm and loud, bodies packed together beneath dim lights while alcohol spills freely through the rooms and someone immediately drags you toward the kitchen the second you walk in.

For a while, things actually feel normal again. Your friends surround you instantly, music drowning out your thoughts before they can spiral too far, and soon you’re laughing, dancing, drinking, letting yourself sink into the chaos of the evening instead of thinking about tattooed hands and degrading comments that still linger far too vividly in your head.

Eventually your boyfriend arrives too, and the second he sees you, his entire face softens.

“There’s my girl,” he smiles warmly while pulling you against him.

Your chest aches unexpectedly at the sight of him because he’s sweet. So sweet. The exact opposite of Jungkook.

You spend most of the evening attached to him after that, sitting on his lap while your friends tease the two of you mercilessly. His hands stay respectful and warm against your waist while he kisses your cheek occasionally and smiles every time you laugh. Everything about him feels normal, easy, safe. It should feel perfect.

And yet Jungkook keeps creeping back into your head anyway- every time someone jokingly calls you princess. Every time someone grabs your wrist. Every time your pulse jumps unexpectedly for absolutely no reason at all.

It’s exhausting.

Later in the evening, you end up tucked against your boyfriend again on one of the couches while people dance around you, his hand resting gently against your thigh as he kisses you softly, sweetly, and suddenly your brain flashes back to Jungkook’s hand landing sharply against your leg earlier that evening.

‘That did something, huh?’

Heat rushes through you instantly. Without thinking, you bite down lightly against your boyfriend’s lip during the kiss and he immediately pulls back with a surprised laugh.

“Ow,” he grins. “Sweetheart, i didn’t know you liked that.”

Your stomach twists painfully. “Yeah well…” you murmur, still slightly dazed from the comparison flashing through your head again. “What if i do?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen slightly and honestly, the reaction alone tells you enough. Cute. God, he’s so cute. And somehow that only frustrates you more tonight.

Still, he kisses you again eagerly after that and you let yourself sink into it, trying desperately to focus on him instead of dark eyes, tattooed fingers and degrading whispers that keep poisoning your thoughts. The kisses grow messier after a while, needier, and eventually your frustration starts boiling over completely until, before you can think too hard about it, you grab his hand and pull him upstairs toward your bedroom.

Your boyfriend nearly stumbles after you in surprise. “Someone’s impatient tonight,” he laughs breathlessly. If only he knew.

The second your bedroom door closes behind you, he kisses you again immediately, hands fumbling awkwardly against your waist while you melt against him for a moment before frustration creeps back in all over again.

Too soft. Too careful. Your brain keeps comparing and you hate it.

Eventually you pull back slightly, still flushed and restless while your boyfriend looks at you with visible confusion.

“You okay?”

You hesitate for a second before awkwardly mumbling, “Could you maybe be… I don’t know… a bit mean?” Silence.

Your boyfriend blinks at you. “…mean?”

Immediately you feel stupid. “Agh, nevermind-”

“No no,” he says quickly, visibly flustered now. “I can do that.” His cheeks turn pink instantly, which honestly only makes this worse.

You try not to laugh while he awkwardly attempts to look intimidating for maybe the first time in his entire life before finally mumbling after several painfully adorable seconds:

“…you’ve been a bad girl?”

You stare at him. He stares back nervously.

“…like that?” he asks uncertainly. And oh my god. The problem isn’t that he’s doing it wrong. The problem is that all you can hear in your head is:

‘careful with that attitude, princess’

Your boyfriend kisses you again sweetly, clearly trying his best, and guilt suddenly crashes into your stomach so hard it almost makes you sick.

Because none of this is fair to him.

Not the comparison constantly running through your head. Not the fact that every time he touches you gently, your brain cruelly flashes back to rough hands around your wrists and a low voice telling you to behave. And definitely not the way your body keeps betraying you every single time Jungkook slips into your thoughts.

Still, you try. You really do.

You pull your boyfriend down onto the bed with you, kissing him deeper this time while his hands settle carefully against your waist. He lets you guide the pace completely, soft and patient even while your kisses grow hungrier, more desperate. His fingers slide underneath the hem of your shirt slowly, hesitantly, like he’s making sure every touch is okay before allowing himself more.

Sweet. Careful. Respectful.

You hate that it suddenly frustrates you.

Your boyfriend pulls back slightly to catch his breath, eyes warm while he brushes your hair away from your face.

“You’re really worked up tonight,” he laughs softly. If only he knew why.

You kiss him again immediately instead of answering, trying to force yourself back into the moment, trying to focus on him instead of another man’s smirk burned permanently into your brain.

But then your boyfriend’s hands pause again. Hesitate. “Hey,” he murmurs gently, thumbs brushing softly against your hips. “We don’t have to rush anything.”

Your chest tightens instantly. “It’s okay,” you say quickly, almost too quickly. “I want to.”

“I know.” His voice stays soft. “But you seem nervous.”

That word almost makes you laugh. Nervous. No, nervous was showing up at Jungkook’s apartment.

This? This is frustration slowly eating you alive.

Still, your boyfriend only smiles reassuringly before pressing another sweet kiss against your forehead.

“We can just cuddle, sweetheart.”

And god. That should make you melt. It should make your heart ache in the good way.

Instead, disappointment curls ugly and shameful inside your stomach before guilt immediately follows right after it.

Because he deserves someone who looks at him and feels content. Safe. Satisfied.

Not someone lying in bed secretly replaying another man’s voice in her head.

Your boyfriend pulls you against his chest afterward, wrapping an arm loosely around your waist while you curl up beside him beneath the blankets. The room slowly quiets around you except for the distant bass of the party downstairs and his steady breathing beside you.

Eventually your eyes drift shut.

And still, somehow… the last thing you see before falling asleep is Jungkook’s smirk:

‘good girl’

By the time sleep finally pulls you under, frustration still burns hot beneath your skin, tangled together with shame, confusion and the horrible realization that you are already anticipating monday evening far more than you should.

Sunday evening is somehow even worse.

You spend most of the weekend irritated for reasons you absolutely refuse to examine too closely. Your friends notice immediately of course, constantly asking why you seem distracted while you keep brushing them off with weak excuses about stress and assignments, but the truth is far more embarrassing.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

Not just the way he looks at you or the degrading comments that keep replaying in your head at the worst possible moments, but the way he somehow slid underneath your skin in less than a week and made himself comfortable there.

It’s deeply annoying. And deeply concerning.

By sunday night, you’re lying in bed staring blankly at the ceiling while your laptop sits abandoned beside you. You’ve reread the same paragraph at least three times now without processing a single word because your brain keeps wandering right back to friday evening.

‘good girl’

You groan quietly into your pillow before finally grabbing your phone from the nightstand.

This is stupid. Very stupid.

Still, your thumb opens Jungkook’s chat anyway.

You stare at the conversation for a long moment while trying to come up with literally any excuse to text him that doesn’t make you sound insane. Maybe ask about the essay. Maybe pretend you forgot something important. Maybe…

A new message suddenly appears.

Jungkook: write a 5k essay until monday as homework.

Your eyes widen instantly. Then, in pure panic, you immediately close the chat again because oh my god. He saw that you read it instantly.

Meaning you were already in the conversation. Meaning-

Another message appears almost immediately after.

Jungkook: huh. you’re either psychic or a lil crazy stalker. what’s it gonna be?

You stare at the screen in disbelief. Asshole. Absolutely not.

You refuse to answer immediately because that would only prove his point, so instead you throw your phone dramatically onto the bed beside you and force yourself to wait before responding.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. Twenty. By minute thirty, you’re honestly starting to feel proud of your self-control.

Finally, you grab your phone again and type back:

You: please, don’t fool yourself. i accidentally opened the wrong chat. what topic for the essay?

The typing bubble appears instantly. Of course he’s already online.

Jungkook: yea sure lol whatever lets you sleep at night, princess. don’t fucking care. just get it done

Your eye twitches immediately.

You: 🙄

Three dots instantly appear again.

Jungkook: don’t roll your eyes

You snort quietly into your pillow before typing back without thinking too hard about it.

You: or what?

Honestly, what exactly is he gonna do over text?

But then your phone suddenly lights up.

Incoming Video Call: