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jellyj777 · 5 months ago

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01; Hit You | THE PATIENT

THE PATIENT | Book | Ch01; Hit you

JungkookxReader (fluff/angst/smut)

—Falling in love with a patient in an asylum might not be everyone's tea but you had a thing to fix something you never broke at first place.

words: 1.6k+

TROPES: One sided hate, TherapistAu.

SYNOPSIS:: —"Don't trust me, Believe in me"

WARNINGS:: Talk about abuse, Violence ahead, explicit language, Anger issues.

index | next ->

Boom. Another slam.

"Let me check in, please." you mutter for the nth time to your colleague beside. You were just waiting for the male nurses to come back but hearing the noises inside, it was hard to not be worried.

"Ms. Mun, it's dangerous inside." the brown headed guy replies while peeping through the peephole of the door making you roll your eyes.

Yes, ofcourse it's dangerous. No shits.

Waiting for the nurses id the hardest thing, to be honest. Like god. Ho long does it take for them to bring a simple medicine. Darn. Long enough.

And another slam is heard, it was louder this time. Did he throw the chair?

"Doctor Jung," you sigh patting his shoulder in concern to move aside after hearing footsteps coming near behind you meaning the nurses are nearby. He nods and moves aside for you to go in

"Why do they assign male patients to female doctors at first place." Hoseok mutters under his breath while you unlock the door ignoring his words and the sight makes you freeze up in your place.

The chair was broken into pieces, the wall had hole in it, the bed was freaking broken into pieces and heck, the mattress was teared apart with the feathers flying around. How can he do this much with no weapon inside?

Your eyes meets the culprit as he smiles cheekily looking at you while breathing heavily. The pillow was in his hand with blood on his nails and bruises on his knuckles, the two male nurses rushes into the room and hold his hands making the pillow fall, pining him against the wall.

"What took you so long, doc?" Jungkook asks playfully,

trying to get away from the hold of the nurses, you finally move closer to him holding him in place as the nurse prepares the dose.

He feigned his frustration with a eye roll "Ah, the old knockout juice. Classic." He smirks, "Do you really need all these people here to control me?" He glanced around at the nurses and the other doctor who was standing in distancd, before fixing his gaze back at you.

"Just take the injection, hm?" you hum back holding his forearm against the wall keeping him in place, he playfully squirms under your touch keeping the eye contact with you.

The injection is now being injected through his forearm. The needle is pressed against the vein, Jungkook doesn't hiss. He is so used to these doses, keeping his gaze at you until he felt his eyes getting heavy, with a small sigh he doses off closing his eyes as his body falls on the male nurse.

The male nurse picks him up on his back and walks out of the ruined room, other patients were peeking out of their rooms to which you smile and follow the nurse to another room prepared for Jungkook to rest until his room is cleaned.

"Thank you" You thanked the male nurse who was making the passed out Jungkook lay on the bed. The nurse smiles at you and bows before walking out of the room leaving you alone with Jungkook.

Grabbing the chair on the side, you slide it near his bed to sit down. He won't wake up, even at the loudest noise and you're very well aware of that cause the dose of the injection was high. The light shone over Jungkook's face from the window above, he was beautiful even in this state.

You glance at his soft features while tucking him in, he was a new patient. A cocky one. He transferred to this hospital last week and would have, sudden outbursts just like today, to either get your attention or just for his own fun.

The next day, you were in the therapy room taking the patients one by one. There's only one way a patient will open up and that is by therapy. You became a licensed therapist for this job importantly —that's how important this job is for you.

You certainly did come in the lines of people who actually like jobs. Crazy.

The door opens up, the nurse walks in with Jungkook. Your next patient of the day, also your last and then your shift ends.

He wore the regular hospital gown with his long hair, the bangs covering his forehead. He has grown abit of facial hair, ruffling his hair he looks around the new room. New room but same feeling.

"Please, sit down." You smiled gesturing the chair infront of you, the nurse bowed leaving the room after making Jungkook sit on the chair comfortably. This was his first therapy session in this hospital.

"Do I really have to take in this shit?" Jungkook asks with raised eyebrows as you nod in return making him sigh in resentment, he knows all those past ass shit where the doctors will ask questions about his past and then judge him while writing the shit in your book as a 'progress'.

He noticed, you don't have a book or a computer to write down anything, okay. weird.

"I brought you something, Jungkook"

That's different. He thinks.

You smile taking out the lunchbox from the bag beside you, putting it on the table, you slid it towards the centre. With curious eyes, he takes a quick glance at you and then the box.

He takes the box in his hand and opens it up to finds something that he might have forgotten the taste of.

"Fruits?"

"Yes, fruits." you smile handing him the fork,

he grabs the fork and pokes it in the mango infront of him looking carefully at the deliciously cut piece. It's been awhile since he had a decent snack moreover a fruit. You keep an eye on the fork moreover on his vieny hand which had scars, self harm scars. Making sure he doesn't use the fork for any other obvious reason.

"Don't worry, I'm not in mood of doing anything right now." he replies feeling your gaze on his hand,

"That's good," you smile, he hums back taking a bite of the fruit. "So, how was your week?" you ask keeping tone casual, smiling at him for him to be comfortable.

"Just usual, being locked up in a cage." He says in nonchalant tone, eyes focused on the box infront of him, the hospitals might have been changed but it was a normal day for Jungkook just like everyday.

Maybe a little brighter after eating the delicious mango.

"You know it's the best for you," you reply to his nonchalant aura.

"Oh please, at this point. I would rather kill myself than be here." He pauses then looks up from the box at you, his expression turning abit serious,

"I don't want to be treated like some kind of animal. I don't want these constant meds, these watchful eyes. I want some goddamn freedom, some space to just myself without anyone fucking breathing down my neck" the frustration was visible in his tone and then a chuckle escapes his lips.

"But then again, I guess none of that matters, right? I'm just the crazy monster that's in need of fixing"

"I'll give you freedom."

You state after listening to him. He must be feeling sick in the four walls, I mean who wouldn't? And yes, he has to be under surveillance at any costs. Having cameras above his head whole day can be creepy. But rules are rules and there's nothing you can do to fix that.

His frustration was valid. You know it and he does too.

He drops the fork on the table and raises his eyebrows in suprise to which you nod with a smile.

"We can start slow." You reply to his unheard question reassuring him that you do want him to go out.

"Who the fuck is 'we'?"

"You and me, just for your own safety and policy. You cannot rome around alone" you shrug your shoulders as he scoffs and leans his back against the chair. He hates this. He hates being around people, especially a doctor. Especially you.

This was new to him, he didn't expect you to literally listen to his words, deep inside he was happy but why would he show that to his doctor? When, especially not wanting to raise your hopes high.

He had many bad experiences with the previous doctors which you weren't aware of maybe? So that is why his next question was really interesting in a way.

"You won't hit me or scold me for talking rubbish?" He questions, his voice quieter than before making you frown.

Hit him?

"Hit you?" You ask with a surprised tone

"Yeah? Like slap me?" he asks back, unsure in a way.

"Did your previous doctors hit you?" He nods.

Your eyes soften hearing that, there's a policy that you cannot do anything to the patient no matter how bad the patient is and it's a basic human kidness to not hut someone when they're already hurting inside.

That made you mad. Why would someone hit someone just because they have anger issues?

"I would never hit you, I'm so sorry you had to go with that." You spoke with soft tone, no matter how bad Jungkook or any patient behaves, you would rather let them hit you than you hit them.

You know that it's not their fault that they're in this situation. Jungkook keeps the eyecontact as his gaze was now much softer. He was totally suprised. In the two years of staying in a hospital, heck. He was in an asylum before. Nobody ever said that.

Nobody ever treated him like this, like a human?

Seeing his expression, you wanted to reassure him. "I want to help you, Jungkook. I know it's hard to trust me but please, just..." you pause fidgeting with the words not wanting to make him uncomfortable "...believe in me."

wattpad: Hit you; CH01 (read on wattpad)

#bts army #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts updates #bts fanfic #bts #jjk smut #jungkook #fluff #angst #therapist #fanfic #yoongi #one sided crush #romantic #author #writers on tumblr

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yoongikapi · 10 months ago

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May I please request a BTS headcanons? when they try to get close to their crush, like hug her, wrap their arms around her shoulder etc. their crush's niece/nephew (18 month old) won't let them. The baby is really possessive of their aunt and doesn't like anyone touching her.

this is such a cute idea!! tysm! <3

stay away from my aunt || ot7 || drabble

crack/ fluff

masterlist

namjoon

you thanked namjoon as he handed you the popcorn and reclaimed his spot on the couch next to yours. the two of you shared the snacks and laughed at the movie, or at least, you were. namjoon would laugh along when you did, but you didnt realize that his mind was somewhere else.

namjoon wiped his sweaty palms on his pants for the third time, and swallowed harshly every time he thought you realized how nervous he was. just go for it already he thought.

he reached an arm behind him and was about to rest it on your shoulder when he heard tiny footsteps bouncing down the stairs. your niece rounded the corner and you smiled at her as she headed for the popcorn, but instead saw a horrible sight. “what are you doing to my aunty?” she yelled at namjoon and you quickly looked his way. he hid his attempt by scratching the back of his head and shrugging. you frowned and moved to sit on the floor with your niece.

“what are you talking about?” you questioned as she curled up in your lap. “he was doing something weird.” she frowned back and pointed at namjoon; “stay away from my aunty!” you giggled and hugged her in tight and namjoon remained on the couch, alone. too embarrassed to join you on the floor or even try to get close to you with your niece around.

jin

you, jin, and your nephew walked around the mall together, you tried to find something for your sister’s birthday but instead kept getting dragged into stores that had any toys in the display windows. “aunty, lets go into this store too!” you nodded as he dragged you in, jin following closely behind you. “maybe (y/n) can pick the next store, is that okay?” jin asked your nephew, who just looked right through him. “no, im picking the stores today, aunty’s my date!” he runs to an aisle furthest from jin and continues his search for toys. your nephew still in sight, you join jin in the isle he’s currently in.

“im sorry about him jin” he just smiles at you “dont be sorry, hes cute even though he doesn’t like me much” resting a hand on his arm, you respond; “just give him some time, im sure hes just not used to you yet.” you smile at him and he blushes; reaching for your hand to hold, the little boy once again ruins his plans. “dont touch my aunty!” he grabs the hand jin was meant to be holding and began tugging you away from him. “leave him there aunty, he cant come with us.” you laugh at this, “baby he drove us here, we aren’t leaving him.” jin laughed as well, hiding his frustrated emotions well.

yoongi

you were at the studio with yoongi, the two of you sat in the chairs facing his computer while he showed you some of his new music; your niece sat on the couch behind you playing with her toys. “thank you for letting me bring her.” you thank yoongi. he smiles; “its no problem, im just glad you could come.” you smiled at this, “me too.” his gaze lingered long enough for your heart to race, and as he tore his eyes from you he grabbed his headphones. he placed them on you and before he played his song he said “tell me what you think of this song i made for y—”

he was cutoff by a scream and you both jerked your heads back to find your niece standing on the couch, pointing straight at yoongi. “what are you doing to her?! get away!” the two of you sat there, confused. when he didn’t get up to move, she yelled again, “i said get away!” with this she jumped off the couch and ran over to him, pushing him back as he remained sitting in the chair and it rolled back slightly. just enough for her to hop into your lap, hugging you tight and giving yoongi death glares.

“you cant get close to her again, only me!” he smiled, but was disappointed he couldn’t share the song he made for you.

hobi

you and hobi held tightly onto your niece’s hands, swinging her in the air with every other step. she laughed and you joined her; hobi grinning ear-to-ear and watching you. once you arrived at the park, your niece dropped your hands and ran to the playground. you glanced over at hobi as she went down the slide; “thank you for being here with me.” you smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek, one that he absolutely wasn’t expecting but oh god he just fell more in love.

“there’s no where else i’d rather be than right here beside you.” you blush and he leans in; returning the favor and placing a kiss on your cheek. the moment was sweet, but short. you hear a scream and see your niece running towards you. she hugs your leg tightly and cries out “you can’t do that to her!”

you and hobi give each other a questionable look, and hobi decides not to make anymore moves. at least, not with your niece around.

jimin

you were upset when jimin invited you out to a movie, but told him you couldn’t go because you had to watch your nephew. he smiled at this and invited him too; anything if he could spend time with you. once at the movie, your nephew sat on your left and jimin on your right. he quickly noticed you laughing with jimin and got jealous. he tried to get your attention too but when jimin grabbed your hand, that was his last straw.

“hey” he whispers over you and looks dead in jimin’s eyes. “let go of her!” he grabs your left hand as jimin still holds your right one. when jimin didnt let go, he pulls a card jimin cant. he crawls onto your lap, tugging your hand out of jimin’s and holds both of them, getting comfortable on your lap. you laugh and begin to watch the movie again as your nephew smiles at jimin, knowing he’s won this one.

taehyung

standing in the kitchen holding your niece, you laughed as she tugged on your hair and attempted to eat it. you spun her around as she laughed with you, and even though you didnt notice it, taehyung stood in the corner and giggled at the two of you; loving the sight of you with your niece and someday hoped to see the same sight with your own kid. he quietly entered the kitchen and suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, your back pressed to his chest as you held your niece in your arms.

you stopped spinning at the sudden contact and blushed, but it didn’t last long when your niece smacked taehyung’s arm away. neither one of the two said anything, she just glared daggers through taehyung and he took it as his sign to keep his distance. for now.

jungkook

your nephew kept the couch to himself, quietly sitting behind you and jungkook. every once in a while, he’d look up from his toys and look down at the two of you, wondering why this random guy kept scooting closer to his aunty. he tried to watch the two of you play the video game, but found it too boring and so he focused back to his toys. all of a sudden, the man broke the silence and spoke; “(y/n) you’re doing it wrong, try it like this..” at this he looked up and saw something horrible.

this man; this random man in your house was now holding your hands over the controller. he had to stop this. from the couch he stood, and jumped onto jungkook’s back. he released your hands and wrapped arms around your nephew to keep him from falling. “you aren’t allowed to do that to her!” he screamed. you pried him off jungkook’s back and then got put in timeout. “i was just trying to help you aunty, he touched you!” you sighed and begun to explain that he can’t act like that when jungkook spoke up;

“it’s alright (y/n), he was just looking out for you!” he smiled but deep down inside was upset.

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causesciencethatswhy · 1 year ago

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Idk yall, the kind of baffled 'schoolboy with a crush' shy jungkook gets whenever talking about jimin is something I'll never get over.

He's endeared, endeared.

#like make whatever you will of their bond #you will never not convince me jungkook doesn't have the teensiest bit of a crush on jimin #jungkook #jimin #jikook

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feelingcomplet · 19 days ago

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#park #Jimin #little #mochi #bts #Coreia #sul #Crush #lindo

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sincetheducksleft · 6 months ago

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I'm going to be very brave and admit something..... Tony has game

#I'm not saying i want his cannoli but he's charismatic and intelligent #it's more important than being hot #especially because I'm a lesbian #i know so many lesbians have exceptions for like paul mccartney or jimin or these ridiculously conventionally attractive men #which makes sense right no one is 100% anything and it's normal for straight girls to have “girl crushes” so wlw can have a “guy crush”#but on a more intuitive level i understand having a jim gandolfini/tony soprano exception #if he's good enough for dr jennifer melfi to have a teensy fascination with then he's good enough for all of us #tony #the sopranos #tony soprano

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headlinxr · 12 days ago

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𝐡𝐢𝐦 ─── 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

SYNOPSIS ! Jeon Jung-kook is your new literature teacher. As the class's top student in that subject, you have to make a good impression on him. But you do more than that.

GENRE. teacher x student, teacher's pet, forbidden relationship, non idol!, au, f!reader

WARNINGS. reader is younger than Jung-kook, slight smut.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The classroom door opened with a creak that shattered the stillness, and a murmur slithered among the students like the prelude to something unexpected. A young man crossed the threshold with a posture that radiated confidence, accompanied by dark eyes that seemed to guard ancient secrets, as if he could decipher the most intricate enigmas with just a glance. He was Professor Jeon Jung-kook, the new literature teacher, and his arrival transformed the air in the room into something almost palpable, thick with expectation.

From the moment he placed his briefcase on the desk, his presence filled the space with a unique magnetism: A harmonious blend of authority and closeness that only the most charismatic spirits possess.

—Good morning, class— he greeted with a deep voice, with a musicality that evoked the rhythm of a well-composed sonnet. —My name is Jeon Jung-kook, and together we will explore what literature has to teach Not just as an academic discipline, but as a mirror to understand ourselves—

His words were not mere formalities; each syllable seemed chiseled with intention, like a chisel sculpting the marble of a statue. For you, that initial greeting resonated like a tacit promise: Those classes would not be a monotonous repetition of theories and grammatical structures. They would be intrepid journeys into the depths of the human condition, expeditions to the far reaches of emotions and reason.

As the weeks went by, Jung-kook confirmed that he was much more than a conventional teacher. His lessons metamorphosed into existential dialogues, into debates laden with meaning that dissected the nature of being, the inexorability of decisions, and the eternal struggle between light and shadow that resides within each individual.

—A hero is not the one who defeats the dragon— he stated one day, as his gaze swept over the students —but the one who confronts their own darkness, the one that lies in the deepest recesses of their soul—

Those words were not mere reflections; they were arrows precisely aimed at the heart of each student. For some, they provoked admiration; for others, discomfort. For you, they were a revelation.

You had always been the outstanding student, the one who offered impeccable answers and outstanding projects. But your academic success was a fortress built to isolate you, a refuge where your most intimate thoughts remained inaccessible. Jung-kook, however, seemed to have an unsettling ability to read between the lines, not only in the texts they analyzed but also in the pauses and hesitations of your responses.

One rainy afternoon, while discussing "Nausea" by Sartre, his words emerged as a gentle yet unavoidable challenge:

—And you, (Y/N), do you think the choices we make define us or, rather, strip us bare before the truth of who we are?—

The classroom fell into an expectant silence. The question was not just philosophical; it was personal, as if he had glimpsed something beyond the facade she displayed. You felt that Jung-kook's gaze pierced through you, not with judgment, but with a sincere invitation to be authentic.

You hesitated, carefully choosing each word, not because you didn't know how to respond, but because you understood that honesty requires courage.

—I think... I think our choices are like mirrors— you murmured finally, with a trembling but firm voice. —They don't transform us, but they reflect what we have been all along, even the parts we refuse to look at—

Jung-kook smiled faintly, a barely perceptible curve on his lips that seemed to contain the approval and respect that your words had inspired in him.

From that day on, something in you changed. The walls that had protected you for years began to crumble, revealing a torrent of thoughts and emotions you had never shared before. Jung-kook's classes became a kind of sanctuary, a space where I could speak without fear, where my ideas were listened to with the same attention one gives to studying a complex poem.

For his part, Jung-kook also revealed glimpses of his own vulnerability in his teachings. His literary interpretations were laden with personal nuances, as if the demons tormenting Dostoevsky's or Kafka's characters were reflections of his own internal struggle.

—The great authors— he said one day, while holding a worn copy of "The Brothers Karamazov," do not write to give us answers, but to show us that our questions are universal. The demons in their pages are ours, and confronting them is the price of our freedom—

For you, those words were a revelation. Jung-kook was not just a teacher; he was a beacon in the fog, a guide to unexplored territories of your mind and spirit. Between literary quotes and metaphors laden with meaning, the connection between them deepened, not as a romantic bond, but as an intellectual and emotional dance where both learned and transformed.

So , the classroom ceased to be just a physical space and became a theater of ideas, a place where literature was not only studied but lived, felt, and confronted as the mirror that reflects who we are and who we could become.

Time, in Jung-kook's classes, did not follow a straight line, nor did it adhere to the conventions of the clock. Its passage was a dance of smooth glides, like a current that bifurcates and loses itself among the shadows. What began as an orderly analysis of literature soon dissolved into abstractions that seemed to transcend the boundaries of the classroom. Between the words of a Rilke poem or the contradictions of a Camus essay, a microcosm was woven where language was no longer just heard, but felt on the skin, like a vibration that coursed through every corner of his being. Jung-kook spoke with the certainty of someone who knows that literature is not a dead art, but an immense and pulsating river that flows between bodies and minds, pushing towards deeper waters, towards what lies hidden beneath the surface. And you swam in those waters with a skill you seemed unaware of, diving deeper than anyone into the depths of that ocean of words.

Over time, Jung-kook's praises became sharper, more specific, as if each word that left his lips were a flash of light revealing what only he could see.

—You have a unique sensitivity to grasp what others leave in the shadows of a text— he told you one afternoon, after an analysis of "The Stranger” —It's as if you could hear what remains in the silence between the words—

His words fell upon you like petals swirling in the air before gently settling on your soul, each one released with a precision that was not casual. There was something in his tone that suggested a deep truth, a sincerity that surpassed the empty and fleeting compliments he threw at the rest of the class. You began to feel that you sought his attention more and more frequently, like a gravitational force that irresistibly attracted you, his eyes taking an extra moment to focus on you, as if everything in the classroom fell silent to allow time to stop in that brief but immense exchange of glances.

At first, you interpreted those moments as mere recognition of your academic potential. Jung-kook was an exceptional mentor, the kind of person who saw what others couldn't or dared not perceive. You felt honored, even grateful, for that selective attention, as if you were being admitted to a world reserved only for those who managed to cross the threshold of deep understanding. However, soon, cracks began to appear, fine, barely perceptible, but enough to suggest that something else was brewing in the air.

His comments, always masked under the guise of academic interest, began to take on a different weight, as if a whisper laden with hidden intentions slipped between the words.

—The way you write... There's something in it that touches on the intimate, the visceral— he told you one day, handing you an essay he had graded. Jung-kook's fingers brushed briefly against yours as he handed your the paper, a contact as fleeting as lightning, but it left a palpable warmth in the air, a spark you didn't know how to extinguish.

Then came the messages, those that slipped in during the late hours of the night, when everyone was immersed in the silence of darkness. At first, they seemed innocent, simple reminders about readings or literary reflections that extended the boundaries of the class beyond the classroom. But over time, the tone began to change, each word seemed to acquire a weight that transcended the academic.

—I read your analysis on Baudelaire again tonight. The way you captured the melancholy in his work... It's as if you could feel the pain of their soul. I am impressed by the way your soul understands suffering in a unique way—

They were words that came when the world seemed to be asleep, imbued with a closeness, a subtle but undeniable touch, that had nothing to do with a teacher and his student. You tried to convince yourself that his thoughts were just misinterpretations, but Jung-kook's words slipped between the lines, like an unspoken poem, inviting you to read beyond the obvious.

And then there was his presence. There was something about Jung-kook that transcended the physical, as if his body were imbued with an energy that surrounded you, that attracted you. His gestures, that subtle inclination when he listened, his hands drawing circles in the air with invisible ideas, his voice, capable of sliding from the firmness of a paternal advice to the silky whisper of a secret shared in the shadows. You began to notice details that had previously been indifferent to you: The curve of his jaw when he turned his head, the glint in his eyes when he spoke passionately about some author, the way his smile, though rare, seemed to contain entire, infinite universes, waiting to be deciphered.

One day, while the rain softly tapped on the windows of the empty classroom, Jung-kook approached you after class, his presence enveloping the air around him.

—Have you noticed that the most talented people are often the loneliest?— he said, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that seemed to pierce through you, as if he could see something inside you that you yourself did not yet understand.

You felt your heart beating harder, a rhythmic thump vibrating in your chest, as if that phrase touched a hidden fiber of your being.

—Maybe— you replied, trying to stay calm, although your voice betrayed a slight tremor. —But solitude, sometimes, is as much a refuge as it is a curse, isn't it?—

Jung-kook smiled, and that smile slowly stretched, like a curve containing thousands of unspoken meanings.

—It is a truth that few come to understand— he said, and his hand lightly rested on the back of the chair next to yours, coming close enough for the scent of his cologne, subtle yet penetrating, to reach your senses.

It was at that moment when you realized something you had tried to deny, something that had always been there, beneath the surface: How attractive Jung-kook was. Not just for his appearance, which was undeniable, but for the way each of his gestures, every word, every glance, seemed calculated to get you tangled up, to draw you into an abyss from which you didn't know whether you wanted to escape or plunge even deeper.

Your attraction began as a whisper, an ephemeral thought that could have easily dissolved. But over time, that whisper transformed into a persistent echo, resonating every time he entered the room. In your dreams, his face blended with verses you had never read, and his voice became a hypnotic, almost dreamlike song that called to you from the depths of his being.

However, alongside that growing fascination, a question arose that she couldn't shake: How sincere was his interest? Were you really special to him, or just another piece in a game that Jung-kook mastered with the skill of a violinist playing the strings of your emotions?

The classes continued, but now everything had a different hue, a latent tension that permeated every word, every gesture. Jung-kook's teachings were no longer simple lessons, but enigmas you felt compelled to solve, metaphors of a game from which you didn't know whether to escape or let yourself be caught.

As your confidence grew, a subtle shadow was woven into your soul, but increasingly heavier. At first, it was just a delicate feeling, like the breeze that brushes the skin on a summer afternoon, a whisper telling you that there was something unique in your relationship with Jung-kook. He, with his impeccable presence and calculated words, convinced you that there was something special between you, something that went beyond the relationship between a teacher and his student. He spoke to you as if you were the only one capable of understanding his thoughts, as if you were the only one who understood his visions of life and literature. Every word Jung-kook said seemed to open new doors for you, revealing secrets you didn't know existed.Your mind, once curious but with clear boundaries, began to merge with the ideas he shared, as if each one were a point of light in a dark labyrinth to which only he had the key.

The way he looked at you, with that intensity that never faded, made you feel as if the rest of the world were irrelevant, as if its existence were reduced to those moments when he paid attention to you. Each compliment, each comment, seemed to reinforce that feeling: —You are different, (Y/N), you are special. No one else has this ability to see what you see, to feel what you feel. You are unique— He spoke with a softness that was almost dangerous, like the song of a serpent luring its prey before devouring it.

The feeling of being above everyone else intoxicated you. She was so used to hearing those words that they became ingrained in your mind, making you feel as if you were floating, disconnected from everything else. Your friends began to seem distant to you, their voices monotonous and boring compared to the passion with which Jung-kook spoke, the depth he offered you.

In fact, you started to isolate yourself without even realizing it. The messages that used to make You smile now seemed to be your only source of comfort. —Your analysis on Sartre was brilliant, (Y/N). I see something in you that I don't see in anyone else. That ability you have to get to the bottom of every thought, to unravel what hides in the darkness. You have a mind that few can follow— Each word, each praise was a dose that kept you bound, as if somehow you could no longer live without their approval, without that constant validation of their superiority.

The voices of your friends, those that had once made you laugh, began to lose relevance. Their laughter, their trivial conversations, no longer seemed capable of filling the void that Jung-kook had left inside you. His messages, the long talks after class, became the only truth that inhabited your mind. Even your family, which had once been your refuge, became a distant echo. Family dinners, outings with friends, faded away like scattered clouds. Jung-kook needed you for something greater, and that consumed you in a way you couldn't even understand. It was as if the very air you breathed depended on him.

Manipulation, always disguised as affection, admiration, genuine interest, was an invisible fabric that surrounded you more and more. He showed you the world as if it were a closed box, only showing you what he wanted you to see. Every time you perceived something that didn't add up, some gesture or word that made you doubt, Jung-kook made sure to silence that inner voice. —What you felt is not real. Why doubt me, when I only want the best for you?— His voice slid over your thoughts like a slow poison, dragging you into an uncertainty that prevented you from trusting your own instincts. Was it really your intuition guiding your emotions, or were they just fantasies fueled by the need to be seen and understood by him?

The power Jung-kook had over you did not lie solely in his knowledge or his position as a teacher, but in his ability to manipulate your reality. Like an artist sculpting a perfect marble statue, Jung-kook shaped your mind, molding it to depend on him, so you couldn't see beyond his influence. His physical contact, his words, his looks, everything had a purpose: To make you doubt, to make you want more, always more. When their fingers brushed against each other, when their gaze became more penetrating, you felt the space between you become unbreathable, a tension that made you fear and desire with equal intensity.

Sometimes, you find yourself looking for signs in every gesture of his. Was he really that worried about you, or was there something more behind those eyes that seemed to read your soul? The uncertainty grew within you, but there was always something in his voice, a tone of absolute certainty, that disarmed you. —You have to understand that the world doesn't always see what you see.You have to understand that the world doesn't always see what you see. But I see it. I see what is in you, what no one else can see. You are unique, (Y/N), and that attracts me— Each phrase, each compliment, seemed like a rope tied around your neck, and at the same time, a drug I couldn't stop consuming.

It was impossible to escape. The emotional dependence you felt towards him became increasingly urgent, like a fire you couldn't extinguish. The more you saw him, the more you needed him. The more you needed him, the more you desired him. And Jung-kook knew it. He played with you like a lover with his prey, sometimes gently, sometimes with a firmness that destabilized you, always returning to you like the wind returns to its predestined direction.

Every time he looked at you that way, as if he were stripping you of your layers, you felt the world fade away. The multitude of voices that used to surround you, the advice from your friends, the warnings from your family, faded away. Only he remained, the central figure that revolved around your existence, guiding you, manipulating you, shaping you in his image. And you, like a puppet that still doesn't know it's tied up, let yourself be carried away, without questioning, without thinking. Because deep down, there was a part of you that no longer wanted to escape. There was something unspeakable in that game. Something that attracted you like a magnet.

The class had come to an end, but the air was still charged with something that (Y/N) couldn't identify, something that floated in every corner of the classroom, as if Jung-kook's words had seeped into the walls. While the other students gathered their things and left in opposite directions, you remained there, as if suspended in a moment you didn't want to end, like a fallen leaf clinging to the tree before surrendering to the final fall.

Jung-kook, standing next to the desk, loomed as a dominant presence, almost a monolith of silence that expanded throughout the classroom. His eyes, dark and deep as unfathomable abysses, found you instantly, trapping you in his gaze with the force of an irrevocable destiny. No words were needed. With just a slight raising of an eyebrow, so subtle it seemed like an invisible caress, his gesture pierced your soul like a poisoned arrow, awakening something within you. A tiny, insidious fire ignited in his chest, a spark of hidden desire but as bright and overwhelming as the full moon illuminating the clear sky of an endless night.

—(Y/N), stay a moment after class…— he said, his voice low and soft, but with a gravitational weight that trapped you and made it impossible to ignore. The words floated in the air, dense as an invisible fog, laden with something that transcended the academic. In that instant, the world seemed to stop. The voices of the other students, the murmurs in the hallways, even the monotonous buzzing of the fluorescent lights, all vanished in an almost mystical sigh. The only sound that remained was the rapid beating of your heart, echoing in your ears with the force of an unspoken truth. Should this be a simple request for an academic topic? Maybe yes, but something in the cadence of his voice, in the way he wrapped you with each word, told you that there was much more behind that invitation, something that moved in the shadows, lurking and tempting.

A simple nod of his head was enough for you to agree, almost without thinking. you nodded, slowly and deliberately, and in that instant, a heavy silence settled over you, like a warm and dense blanket. You couldn't help it. The way his eyes looked at you, that unyielding intensity, attracted you with a force you couldn't rationalize, much less resist. Jung-kook was a magnetic man, not only for his physical presence but for the way he moved, for the cadence of his voice, so deep and fluid, like a river of words that swept you into its current, leaving you lost in the whirlwind of your desire. He was a soft poison, almost imperceptible, that slid through your veins, carrying you away without mercy.

As the other students dispersed, the classroom slowly emptied, leaving a tense calm in the air, like the stillness before a storm. The echo of footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving only the dense silence of his presence. Jung-kook didn't move, his eyes remained fixed on you, unyielding. You felt the space between you narrow, as if the classroom walls were slowly closing in, trapping you in the invisible web he had woven around himself. A shiver ran through you. You felt vulnerable, like a flower yet to bloom, waiting for the sun to give it permission to unfold its deepest splendor. The anxiety that used to keep you on edge melted into something new, something strange and tempting: An anticipation that coursed through your skin, from the tips of your fingers to the depths of your being.

The clock, cruel in its advance, marked the time with the precision of an executioner. When the door finally closed, the classroom was enveloped in an almost palpable stillness, the air charged with an electric tension that could be felt on the skin, as if each breath were a latent threat. Jung-kook took a step towards you, his movements measured and calculated with the precision of a hunter approaching his prey, but without haste. As if time were at his feet, and not the other way around.

—Does it bother you to stay a few more minutes?— I just want to talk about your latest essay—he said, and although his words were rational, his tone, soft and grave, carried a barely contained sensuality, like a taut string, about to snap

A sigh escaped your lips. You tried to smile, but you knew that expression couldn't hide what was overflowing in your chest. His closeness enveloped you like a thick fog, like a tide that swept you away without remedy. It wasn't just his body that occupied the space; it was something intangible, something that passed through his gestures, his fixed gaze, that confidence with which he moved. Each word he uttered was an invitation to the abyss, a whisper laden with unspoken promises. His gaze, deep and serene, never stopped searching for yours, trapping you in a game from which you neither could nor wanted to escape.

—Of course, professor— you murmured, your voice lower than usual, as if you didn't want your words to escape your mouth. They were more a sigh, an unquestioning acceptance, a permission given without reservation. Upon saying it, you felt a little more vulnerable, as if an invisible thread tied you to him, leaving you in the web of his own desire, a desire that now felt as clear as water, but that you still tried to suppress.

Jung-kook took another step, getting closer, so close that you could feel the heat of his body, so palpable that it almost hurt. A subtle scent of men's cologne, something more, something indefinable, filled your nose, enveloping your senses, making your breath heavier, more conscious. You could hear the beats of your own accelerated heart, as if you were on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall into the vastness of the forbidden.

—The essay…— he said, now with an even deeper, denser voice, laden with an intention you couldn't ignore. It's... Excellent, (Y/N). But I know you have much more to offer. I see that spark in you. That... Depth. Not everyone has that— his voice slipped softly, like a warm river surrounding you, caressing your ear with the promise of something much greater, something you couldn't avoid, nor wanted to avoid.

His closeness became intoxicating, a constant pressure that made it hard to breathe easily. Each word he spoke, each movement, became a song, a melody that resonated in your chest. Each phrase from Jung-kook seemed like a promise, a promise of something beyond the classrooms, something that couldn't be named, but that touched You with a breathtaking certainty. Something forbidden.

—I think you are more perceptive than you realize, (Y/N). Not everyone can grasp what you understand... What you see in the texts, in the nuances that others overlook. Have you noticed that?— he asked, his tone seductive and soft, each word woven with the intention of disarming you, making you succumb to the trap he had set without your knowledge.

You wanted to respond, but your words got stuck in your throat, choked by the intensity of his presence. The sound of your ragged breathing joined theirs, marking the rhythm of something that seemed inevitable. The beats of his heart echoed like drums in your ears, and although your mind tried to rebel, your body desired it without remission. The distance between the two of you was becoming increasingly dangerous, every second more explosive.

Jung-kook leaned towards you, the air between them charged with a tension so palpable that it seemed any movement could shatter that delicate balance. His face was just a few centimeters from yours, and his warm breath caressed your skin, like a wordless promise.

—You have no idea how special you are, (Y/N)— he murmured, and that softness, that whisper, completely disarmed you, leaving you defenseless before him.

Time seemed to stand still in that moment, as if the entire world were fading away around them. The classroom, the chairs, the desk, everything disappeared, and only he and you remained, trapped in an atmosphere laden with unspoken promises. The line between academic admiration and something much deeper blurred, as if everything in his being screamed that this was much more than a mere meeting of minds. It was a meeting of souls, and neither of them could leave there without something having been transformed forever.

You didn't know if your body had reacted first, if your thoughts had overflowed at his proximity, but what you did know was that you couldn't go back. You could no longer escape the gravity that kept you bound to him, that invisible force that drew you in mercilessly, without compassion, as if fate itself dictated that there was no turning back.

Without warning, as if time itself were swept away by a whirlwind of primal instincts, Jung-kook drew You towards him with an unstoppable force, a firmness that whispered both protection and possession. It was an electric contact, a palpable tension, like the crossing of two worlds destined to collide, a fusion of contained desires and a need so visceral that it overflowed the limits of reason. In that suspended moment, their bodies drew closer with frantic urgency, as if the entire universe had stopped, holding its breath before the magnitude of the moment. The air, thick and laden with expectations, became dense between them, like a forbidden perfume that intoxicates the senses.

Their lips, barely a whisper apart, met in a kiss so intense that it seemed to transcend the physical realm. It was an incendiary touch, an explosion of repressed passions, as if everything they had desired, everything they had feared and longed for, was unleashed in a single eruption. The kiss, voracious and unrestrained, swept away any trace of doubt, overflowing the boundaries of decency and sanity. A fierce kiss that spoke without words, that whispered on their skin what they hadn't even dared to think, a language as ancient as desire itself, resonating with the depth of a soul that had been waiting for the exact moment to surrender.

Each brush of their lips was an invitation, a challenge, and a promise. A forbidden dance woven in the shadows, where bodies moved in unison, shedding all restraint, advancing towards a union that could not be stopped. It was as if the air around them were on fire, each breathless gasp amplifying the electricity overflowing between their skins, a burning current that united them in a whirlwind of contradictory sensations: Pain and pleasure, need and surrender. The intensity of that kiss not only tore through the silence of the room but marked every corner of their existences, as if every second spent there was imbued with a desire so strong that it overflowed any notion of time or space.

His touch was a lightning bolt, a flash that illuminated the deepest part of you being, stripping reality of its shadow, igniting every forgotten corner of desire. And in that fervor, in that boundless surrender, everything else ceased to matter. The forbidden, the unthinkable, everything faded away, leaving only the fury of an uncontrollable desire that fed on their closeness, that grew with every spark that was born between them. A desire that knew no bounds, overflowing in an incessant torrent of pure need.

With a movement as smooth and deliberate as if every muscle in his being had been invaded by the certainty of his destiny, Jung-kook leaned in, like a painter approaching his blank canvas, aware that the moment of creation was about to culminate. His lips, burning and fascinating, began to explore the delicate and vulnerable curve of your neck, an uncharted territory that seemed to whisper forgotten secrets, echoes of promises woven in the air with the fragrance of a desire that was eternal, profound, like a truth that only the soul could comprehend. Each kiss he placed on your skin was a whisper of complicity, a pact sealed in a language that transcended words, an echo of passions dancing to the rhythm of an ethereal wind, like golden leaves swept away by the current of a perpetual autumn.

Your skin, as soft as velvet or the purest silk, became an intimate and secret stage, where light and shadow played an eternal dance. Each caress of his lips on you was a fleeting spark, a flicker of fire that reverberated deep within his being, unleashing a torrent of emotions that swam in the turquoise waters of their connection. Jung-kook, with the sincere devotion of a poet desperately seeking the perfect words, traced a path of kisses that flowed with the grace of a winding river, dragging towards the abyss of shared desire, an abyss that was not terrifying, but full of promises to explore, of territories never before conquered. It was an act of veneration, a ritual in which every touch of his skin transformed into a sacred verse, each inhalation into a stanza narrating a deep and infinite story, a story known only to them.

As his lips gently rested on the skin of your neck, time itself seemed to fade away, as if the entire universe had paused, holding its breath in absolute respect for the beauty of that shared moment. The warmth of his breath, suspended by the palpable intensity of the connection, intertwined with the intoxicating aroma of his skin, creating a sensory symphony that enveloped each of their senses, awakening them with the subtlety of a poem unfolding in the breeze. It was as if everything that existed beyond them faded away, leaving only the resonant echo of two hearts beating in unison, marking the rhythm of an eternal melody, resonating only in their souls, each heartbeat vibrating like a perfect chord in the vastness of their shared universe.

Each kiss was not just a physical touch; it was an act of revelation, a delicate yet profound exploration of the vulnerability that resides in total surrender. As if, through those gentle touches, it not only bared your skin but also touched the most secret corners of your soul, reverently tearing away the layers of insecurity and fear that often enveloped you like a protective shell. It was an act of emotional nakedness, a silent and respectful stripping away of every hidden corner of your being. With each kiss, he not only touched you but also removed the resistance that life had cultivated in you, allowing you to be completely his, without masks, without barriers, just the purity of being, in its most naked and authentic form.

With an almost reverent gentleness, as if fearing to disturb the very essence of what he was about to explore, Jung-kook let his hands glide slowly towards your thighs, like a navigator venturing into uncharted territory, full of undisclosed mysteries and promises that only time could reveal to you. His fingers, warm and sure, began to trace subtle invisible paths over the soft and silky skin, as if weaving a map of sensations that awakened every fiber of you being, a route that called for surrender and submission. It was a touch that needed no words, an ancient language that spoke in whispers, resonating in the dense air, charged with an electric tension that was palpable, that was felt in every breath suspended between them.

Each caress was like a verse of a poem, one that was written to the rhythm of their intertwined hearts, where skin became the canvas and desire, the indelible ink that marked their story. Jung-kook, with the skill of a consummate artist, traced the contours of your thighs with silent admiration, exploring the geography of your body with devotion like a painter shaping a masterpiece, knowing that each stroke was part of a unique creation. His hands glided with the fluidity of a winding river, flowing between the stones of time, finding their way through the softness and warmth of your skin, while the outside world faded into the distance, reduced to a distant and irrelevant murmur.

As his fingers ascended with a delicious caution, the connection between their bodies became more palpable, as if the air surrounding them were charged with electricity, with a tension impossible to contain. It was a journey into the unknown, each inch of your skin explored was a revelation, an opening to what only the soul could know, where each touch unveiled a new layer of vulnerability, an unbreakable surrender that they both shared without the need for words. Jung-kook lingered on every curve, every line, as if the contour of your body told a sacred story, one that deserved to be heard in its silence and celebrated with the respect that only the purest desire could offer.

However, the conclusion of that story, the long-awaited climax that lay beyond the closed doors of that hall, remained suspended in the air, motionless, like an unfinished melody, a contained sigh that never reached its conclusion. It remained there, floating, pulsating, a vibration in space, an intangible echo of what happened between you.

The silence, dense as fog, laden with unspoken words, unfolded between you like a broken promise that would never find its fulfillment. What happened within those walls, in the refuge of those shadows that stretched like tempting arms towards the horizon, remained trapped in that refuge, hidden, like a forgotten whisper that only the wind remembered. In every corner, desire continued to throb, persisting in the shadows, without the need to be fulfilled, without requiring a conclusion. What was lived remained inscribed in the memory of their bodies, interwoven with the same essence that fills the air after a storm.

The memory, as fleeting as dawn and as eternal as the moon, became a persistent longing, suspended in space, like a distant lighthouse, always present but never reached. The mystery of the unlived remained like a soft shadow gliding through the folds of the soul, impossible to unravel, like a labyrinth one traverses without finding the end, but which becomes one's destiny. What happened, or perhaps what never happened, remained stored in the empty space between their souls, in the stillness of their bodies, letting the whispers of desire resonate only in the echo of uncertainty.

And so, that moment transformed into the unattainable, into a thick fog that could not dissipate, a sigh suspended in time that no one else could hear or understand. The hall, once full of life, now breathed only the intangible trace of the unreal, a vestige of what could have been but never was. All those who tried to reconstruct it with words or memories would never come to understand what really happened between you, for that story could neither be told nor remembered with accuracy. Only the persistent vibration of an unresolved desire remained, the void of the unconsummated, which would continue to exist in the air, like an eternal unanswered question.

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