Whispers of Submission jjk

Chapter 7

Night stretches long and restless, swallowing the city in its eerie silence. The only sound in my head is the echo of his voice, the taunting smirk that dripped venom, the way his dark eyes promised ruin.

Jungkook.

The name alone sends a shiver down my spine, a storm brewing in the pit of my stomach. He's a sickness, infecting every inch of my mind, my body. I hate it. I hate him.

But hatred does nothing to stop the inevitable.

When my phone buzzes, I already know it's him.

Meet me on the rooftop. Ten minutes. Don't keep me waiting.

My fingers tighten around the device, the message branding itself onto my skin. The smart thing to do would be to ignore it, but the thought of the consequences makes my blood run cold. He doesn't ask. He demands. And I know better than to disobey.

I drag my feet up the stairs, the weight in my chest growing heavier with each step. When I push open the rooftop door, he's already there, leaning against the wall like he owns the world. Like he owns me.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his smirk slow, predatory.

I hate how the words sink into my skin, burning like a brand.

Before I can react, he moves. One second, I'm standing on my own, and the next, my back is pressed against the cold brick wall, his hands caging me in. His scent—leather, smoke, something dangerously intoxicating—wraps around me like a noose.

"Have you been kissed before?"

The question slices through the charged air, knocking the breath from my lungs.

"What?" I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

His fingers grip my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "Answer me."

I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming wildly. "That's none of your business."

Wrong answer.

His smirk vanishes, replaced by something colder. Darker. His grip tightens just enough to make my skin tingle, to remind me who holds control in this moment.

"You forget your place, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice deceptively soft. "You're mine to do with as I please."

Fury burns through me, hotter than the fear curling in my gut. "I'm not your damn toy," I snap, shoving against his chest.

A mistake.

His eyes darken to something lethal.

Then his lips crash against mine.

It isn't a kiss. It's a punishment. A claim. A slow, agonizing destruction. His mouth moves against mine with ruthless possession, devouring, demanding, taking. His teeth graze my bottom lip before he bites down, hard enough to pull a whimper from my throat.

I hate the sound.

I hate how my body betrays me, heat curling low in my stomach, my fists clenching against his chest but not pushing him away. I hate how he tastes—danger and dominance and something sinfully addictive.

Panic surges through me. I push harder, nails digging into his jacket. He growls, deep and primal, before finally, finally tearing his lips from mine.

My breath is ragged, my lips swollen, my entire body trembling from the force of him.

Jungkook watches me with dark amusement, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "So, that was your first, huh?"

Bastard.

Rage and humiliation collide in my chest, choking me. "You stole it," I spit, shoving at him again. "You had no right!"

He catches my wrist midair, his grip unyielding. "I don't ask for permission, sweetheart. I take what's mine."

My stomach twists, nausea clawing at my throat. "I kept it for someone special."

Jungkook's smirk fades for the briefest moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. But then it's gone, replaced with cold indifference.

"Too bad," he muses. "Because now, every kiss after this? It belongs to me."

My chest tightens. "You're sick."

He laughs, low and dark. "You have no idea."

His fingers brush my throat, his touch featherlight, deceptively gentle. "I'll make you beg for the next one," he murmurs, his lips ghosting just over mine. "And you will beg, sweetheart."

Tears sting my eyes, fury mixing with helplessness in a way that threatens to break me.

I won't let him see me cry.

I wrench my wrist from his grasp, shoving past him with every ounce of strength I have left. I don't stop running until I'm far from the rooftop, far from him.

But even then, I can still feel him on my skin. Still taste him on my lips.

And that terrifies me more than anything.