Whispers of Submission jjk

Chapter 20

The first thing I feel is pain.

A dull ache spreads through my limbs, radiating from every muscle, every nerve ending. My head throbs in sync with my heartbeat, my legs sore beyond reason. I shift slightly, and a sharp sting shoots through my body, forcing me to still.

Then, awareness creeps in. The fabric beneath my fingertips is softer than what I remember falling asleep on. The scent in the air—masculine, crisp, and laced with something inherently Jungkook—wraps around me, suffocating yet oddly familiar. My lashes flutter, and when my vision clears, my suspicions are confirmed.

I'm not in my room.

The realization is a slap to the face, jarring me awake with a rush of adrenaline. My body protests the sudden movement, but panic overrides the pain. I push myself up, only to feel the telltale shift of a blanket sliding off me. My breath hitches when I notice the oversized shirt engulfing my frame—his shirt.

Dread coils in my stomach, thick and suffocating.

Before I can fully process, my gaze lands on the nightstand. A glass of water, a small bottle of painkillers, and a neatly folded note rest beside the lamp. My fingers tremble as I reach for the paper, unfolding it with wary hands.

Take it after lunch. Sorry for being too rough on you, sweetheart.

My pulse skitters.

I crush the note in my grip, heat rising to my cheeks. Fury, humiliation, something else I refuse to name—everything collides in my chest, a storm threatening to break loose. Jungkook's arrogance knows no bounds.

Sorry? He thinks a half-assed apology scribbled on a note is enough to make up for last night? For the way he pushed, controlled, and consumed me like he had every right?

I clench my teeth and throw the note aside.

My fingers curl around the hem of the shirt, debating whether to rip it off or burn it. I settle for neither, deciding instead to change into something that doesn't reek of him. My movements are sluggish, each step a reminder of why I woke up sore in the first place.

I don't have time to wallow in self-pity. I have a class to attend, and the last thing I'm going to do is let Jeon Jungkook think he's successfully broken me.

The moment I step onto campus, I know he's there.

It's an unshakable instinct, a weight pressing against my spine. I don't have to look to confirm it. I can feel him—watching, waiting.

I keep walking, my stride unyielding despite the dull ache in my legs. My fingers tighten around the strap of my bag, knuckles white as I force myself to breathe past the discomfort. The campus is bustling, students moving from one class to another, but I feel isolated, trapped in the pull of a gaze I refuse to acknowledge.

I make it to my lecture hall without incident, slipping into a seat near the front. Safe. For now.

But my relief is short-lived.

A heavy presence looms beside me, and before I can react, someone else is being ordered out of their seat. A startled murmur ripples through the room, but I don't need to look up to know who it is.

Jungkook.

Of course it's him.

I grit my teeth as he settles in next to me like he belongs there, like he hasn't spent the last twenty-four hours making my life a living hell. His scent invades my space, his thigh pressing against mine beneath the shared desk. My fingers curl into a fist on my lap, nails digging into my palm as I stare straight ahead, determined to pretend he doesn't exist.

But ignoring Jeon Jungkook is never that simple.

His arm shifts, the warmth of his skin brushing mine as he leans in, voice a low murmur meant for me alone. "Still pretending, princess?"

I don't react.

His chuckle is dark, amused. "You really think you can ignore me?"

I inhale sharply, biting down on my tongue. If I open my mouth now, I'll give him exactly what he wants—a reaction. And I refuse to play into his hands.

But Jungkook isn't one to be ignored. Not when he's set his sights on something—or someone.

His fingers find the hem of my sleeve, barely skimming my wrist. The touch is featherlight, yet it sends a violent shiver up my spine. My traitorous body betrays me in ways I despise, responding to him even when my mind screams against it.

He notices.

I hate that he notices.

His touch lingers, teasing, testing. "You're trembling."

I rip my arm away as if burned, my gaze snapping to his with barely contained fury. "Don't touch me."

His smirk widens. "There she is."

I want to strangle him.

The professor starts the lecture, but I can't focus, not when Jungkook is beside me, radiating heat and dominance. Not when his every move, every breath, is designed to pull me further into his grasp.

The class drags, the minutes stretching painfully slow. When the lecture finally ends, I'm the first to rise, gathering my things with rigid movements. But as I make to leave, his fingers wrap around my wrist, halting me in place.

"I'm walking you home."

I yank my arm free, glaring up at him. "No, you're not."

Jungkook tilts his head, watching me with something unreadable in his dark eyes. Then, with alarming ease, he scoops me up into his arms.

A gasp escapes me, shock rendering me momentarily speechless. The classroom falls into stunned silence, students staring, whispering. My mortification burns hot, but Jungkook doesn't so much as blink, carrying me out as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

I thrash against his hold. "Put me down, you psycho!"

His grip tightens, voice dangerously soft. "You can barely walk. And I'm not letting you run from me."

Heat surges up my neck, equal parts rage and humiliation. "You don't get to decide what I do!"

Jungkook stops abruptly, his jaw clenching. "No?" His gaze sharpens, something dark flickering behind his eyes. "Then tell me you don't want me. Tell me last night meant nothing, and I'll put you down."

I freeze.

He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. "Go on, princess. Say it."

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering against my ribs. The words sit heavy on my tongue, the lie forming but refusing to leave my lips. Because no matter how much I hate him, no matter how much I want to fight him—

I can't say it.

Jungkook smirks, as if he can hear my thoughts. "That's what I thought."

I hate him.

I hate him because he's right.

And I hate myself more for letting him be..