Photographer (Taekook)

Photograph

Jungkook prided himself on his professionalism. No matter how beautiful, how alluring, or how impossibly captivating the models he worked with were, he always maintained his cool, his focus.

He was a photographer, an artist. His camera was his shield, and his studio was his domain.

But today, the shield was cracking.

The moment Kim Taehyung walked in, Jungkook felt the atmosphere shift. The room seemed smaller, hotter. The tall, lean figure of Taehyung moved with effortless grace, his presence commanding the attention of everyone around. He was stunning—ethereal, really—yet it was the subtle confidence, the way he held himself, that made him utterly magnetic.

Jungkook swallowed hard and adjusted his camera, trying to focus on the task ahead. "Alright, Taehyung-ssi, let's get started," he said, his voice sounding steadier than he felt.

Taehyung nodded, his gaze locking onto Jungkook’s. There was something in the way he looked at him, a slight curve to his lips that spoke of mischief, of knowing. It was as if he could see right through the lens and into Jungkook’s thoughts.

The first few shots went smoothly, Taehyung moving fluidly through poses with the ease of a seasoned model. He was good—too good. Every movement was calculated yet natural, a perfect blend of artistry and sensuality. And then he did it. He turned, casting a smoldering look directly into the camera, eyes hooded, lips slightly parted.

Click.

Jungkook felt a sudden heat surge through his body. His heart raced, and his hands tightened around the camera. He cleared his throat, trying to shake the sensation. But Taehyung wasn’t done. He shifted his weight, his body arching in ways that were both elegant and tempting , his fingers trailing along the edge of his jaw before resting near his lips.

Click. Click.

Jungkook’s pulse quickened. He was starting to lose focus. Every glance from Taehyung felt like a direct hit, as if the model’s gaze wasn’t just for the camera but for him. His breathing became uneven, and he found himself fidgeting behind the lens, trying to keep his mind—and body—in check.

“Jungkook-ssi,” Taehyung’s deep voice broke through the silence, smooth as silk. “Is something wrong?”

The question hung in the air, teasing and knowing. Jungkook’s throat went dry. “N-No. Everything’s fine. Just... adjusting the lighting.” He prayed his voice didn’t betray him.

Taehyung’s lips curved into a subtle smirk. He tilted his head slightly, letting his eyes travel over Jungkook. “Are you sure?”

Jungkook’s grip tightened on the camera. He was not going to lose it. But when Taehyung’s tongue flicked over his bottom lip, and he angled his body in a way that drew attention to his lean, defined figure, it was like every drop of professionalism Jungkook had was melting away. The air in the studio felt heavy, clouded with an unspoken tension.

He took another photo, but his hands were trembling slightly now. Taehyung noticed, of course. His eyes sparkled with amusement and something else—something darker, more enticing. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, closer to Jungkook, his gaze unwavering.

“How’s the lighting now?” Taehyung asked, his voice a low murmur, barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s mind raced. His face was hot, his body responding in ways he couldn’t control, and Taehyung knew it. He could feel his professionalism slipping through his fingers like sand.

His camera was no longer a shield—it was a flimsy barrier between him and the intoxicating presence standing before him.

He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his voice even. “It’s... perfect.”