❝I ought to fuck the brat out of you until you can't talk back."❞
.
.
.
.
❝But you won't❞
Jimin, the privileged class president, hides his relationship with Kai from everyone until Jungkook threatens to blow their secret wide open. With a career...
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Chapter 8 ✶————✶————✶
Jimin’s breath came out in quick, uneven gasps as he descended the stairs. His legs felt weak, barely supporting him, the aftermath of the balcony high leaving him disoriented, like he was floating just outside his own body.
The rush, the euphoric buzz, still lingered beneath his skin, but now it was a heavy thrum in his veins, unsettling and unyielding.
The pounding bass from the Viper Den’s speakers vibrated through the floorboards, and Jimin could feel it in his chest—loud and invasive.
His heart, already racing from the earlier adrenaline, now thudded with something else—a parandoid feeling he couldn't shake.
"Your losing" his mind kept shouting.
The club’s noise, the clinking glasses, the laughter that echoed around him, all of it felt overwhelming.
Each sound cut through him like a sharp blade, close and deafening, as though the walls were closing in on him.
The air was thick with bodies, with heat, and with the electric buzz of anticipation.
And then he saw him.
Jungkook.
Standing at the bar, impossibly still and impossibly commanding, like the world moved around him while he remained the center of it all.
Jimin froze mid-step. Time seemed to slow down as his gaze locked onto Jungkook, the dim red and gold lights of the club painting the scene like a living painting.
Everything around him blurred, faded, until the only thing that remained was the weight of Jungkook’s eyes on him.
His heart skipped a beat, and Jimin felt something inside him twist—a heat spreading from his chest to his stomach, swirling deeper.
It was impossible to ignore, to push down, no matter how hard he tried.
Jungkook’s eyes never wavered from Jimin, and with a single smirk, something shifted in the air between them.
That smirk—it always had that effect on him. A sharp pull, like a magnet drawing him in, no matter how hard he fought against it.
Jimin wanted to look away, to keep walking, but his body refused to obey.
It was a feeling he couldn't describe—part dread, part something else. Something darker, something that made him feel exposed, like his skin had turned too thin.
He felt the tightening in his chest, the way his breath hitched. And yet, beneath all of it, there was a hunger. A need that clung to him, unspoken but undeniable.
Jungkook pushed off from the bar with a languid grace, his eyes never leaving Jimin’s.
Each step he took felt like it was pushing the room closer, narrowing the space until it felt like there was nowhere to run.
