𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 || JJK x READER

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

Y/n's pov
Quick steps down that alleyway that so terrified me and reminded me of one of my recent nightmares.
I wouldn't be surprised if there was a correlation, some sort of prediction telling me to run away from my fears and take refuge in Jungkook's studio, against his chest, tight in a comfort hug.

But he himself was frightening, his world, his ways, his art, the way he had of taking over my mind and making me imagine unchaste scenarios.

Last night the pages of my diary were once again filled with forbidden fantasies in which the subject was a grumpy, tattooed, drinking and smoking 30-year-old man who, if I let myself go to his ways, would probably be the end of me.

He was rough but then almost gentle, in his own way.
It was precisely this that confused the ideas of a poor, already corrupt mind.

So, now my diary's pages knew my new fantasies.
When his eyes met mine I felt exposed, discovered, studied like a work of art in the most prestigious of museums.

Dear diary,
I wanted to be this for him: a canvas, his outlet from his darkness, the most beautiful work of art he had created.
I desired him to paint me in the darkest colours he craved; to adorn me with unexpected hues.

I craved my body itself to be a museum for him to stroll through for hours, without respite, without tiredness.

I never thought I would be so weak at the slightest contact with someone of the opposite genre.
Jungkook had already become the first person in front of whom I had knelt to ask forgiveness; my first 'motorbike ride'; my first hug; the first hand clasped in mine; the first warmth of affection I perhaps deserved.

My mind was pervaded by a whirlwind of appearance and truth, which mingled together, clouding my reason dangerously.
Yet no matter how hard I tried to push it away, his darkness found a way to reach me.

At Night.
Between the lines of my diary.
Between the curves of my thighs.

His paintings had awakened dormant fears in me.
His penetrating gaze had invested my senses with desire that I wanted to hide, to escape from.

It was embarrassing that I felt these things and I blamed myself: I could not have such desires for a man with his temperament.
Was it my lack of affection that led me to this?
Whatever it was, I had to try to push it away with all my strength and energy.
To go towards him, to desire to be touched by his hands... was a dark and winding path to tread, which would only lead me to fall into a ravine.

So distracted by my thoughts, I hadn't realised that today that alley wasn't as scary as last time.
That was because some street lamps had been installed along the way, illuminating my steps and making them safer.

Much of the rubbish that littered the sides of the alley had disappeared and, finally arriving in front of Jungkook's art studio, to my surprise I discovered that the faced no longer bore graffiti, but rather the walls had been repainted and, from the penetrating smell, I could tell it had recently been painted over.
Even the broken sign had disappeared.

Finally that place seemed habited and almost a healthy environment to live in.
But today the entrance I was going to walk through would not be the front door, but the back one, according to Sir Jeon's orders.

I took the key he had given me last time and walked towards an alleyway to the side of the house in front of me, narrow and emanating a not very pleasant smell.
Here was the poorly maintained wooden door, which I doubted could really work as parts seemed to be broken and repaired with tape.

I inserted the key into the slot under the handle while looking around, for fear of wasting too much time attracting the attention of some drunken stalker.