PROFESSOR JEON.

PROFESSOR JEON.

Reads 160
Votes 6
Parts 9

Ongoing25m

Last published Tue, Jun 23, 2026

academy btsfanfic btsjhope btsjimin btsrapmonster

Twenty-three year old Kwon Y/N meets her high school crush, Jeon Jungkook after seven years. But the thing is, Jungkook was her professor. But seven years later, when her suppressed feelings resurface with just one meeting, it has her thinking if she might have a shot this time. . . . . . . . . . . (all pictures I've used are from pinterest or google and credits go to the respective and rightful owners. picture for the cover was sourced also from pinterest, text editing was done on canva) . . . . This is my first fanfiction and this was written with a lot of care and planning and editing. Please interact with the story and let me know what you like/dislike about it so I can keep your preferences in mind. I hope you have a good time and enjoy the book! . . . . . . Happy Reading, Lovliesssss 🩷🩷😘

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COMMAND. ~||JJK||~

The clock on the office wall ticked past midnight. Outside, the rain was relentless, but inside, the silence was deafening. Jungkook didn't speak. He just stood over her desk, slowly unbuttoning the stiff collar of his military uniform, revealing the dark ink creeping up his throat. He leaned down until his shadow completely swallowed her, trapping her between his broad frame and the chair. "You think you're safe because there's a desk between us, Y/N?" his voice dropped to a low, gravelly rasp, his eyes dropping to her lips. "You're not. I could break every rule in this academy, and you still wouldn't report me. Want to find out why?" The setup is simple: A locked door. A rainy night. A girl who refuses to bow, and a Commander who has never learned how to bend. Jeon Jungkook is a weapon wrapped in a crisp military uniform, but when the lights go down at Ironwood Academy, the rigid soldier disappears, leaving behind the scarred, reckless underground fighter. He is used to absolute obedience, but Y/N's quiet, unwavering defiance is a language he doesn't know how to speak. Every night they are forced into the same small room, the space between them becomes a high-voltage wire. It's in the way his tattooed fingers linger when he hands her his logbook. It's in the sharp catch of her breath whenever he steps too close. It's a toxic, addictive game of chicken where neither one wants to pull back first. The academy thinks she is monitoring his discipline. They have no idea she is the one completely destroying it. [ THE VIBE: Heavy Breathing. Suffocating Angst. Overwhelming Proximity. Intoxicating Slow-Burn. ] ~~~~~~~~~~

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