Chapter 7

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The private room at The Viper's Den was everything Jungkook loved: lavish, decadent, and drenched in shadows.

The walls were lined with black velvet, a golden chandelier casting fractured light across the low seating and polished floor.

It was a room designed for intimacy, secrecy, and control.

Jimin stepped inside without hesitation, the click of his boots echoing against the silence as Jungkook followed.

The air grew heavier, the music from the club outside muffled to a faint thrum.

Red.

Anger.

That seems to be the only thing Jungkook seems to see. The only thing he could feel.

Raging through him coursing through his bloodstream and pulsing in his brain.

Jungkook slammed the door shut behind them, his hand lingering on the knob as if he needed a moment to rein in the torrent of emotions surging through him.

Jimin stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, head cocked to the side, his smug grin practically daring Jungkook to snap.

The air between them was electric, crackling with tension so thick it was suffocating.

Jungkook turned slowly, his dark gaze raking over Jimin's lithe frame like a predator surveying his prey. "You think this is funny, don't you?"

His voice was low, rough-dangerous. Jimin's smirk widened, his teeth grazing his lower lip. "A little. You're so easy to rile up, Jungkookie."

That voice. That infuriatingly sweet, mocking voice.

The nickname new yet Jungkook loved the way Jimin said it, the way it escaped his lips.

Fuck.

Jungkook's jaw ticked, and in two quick strides, he was in Jimin's space, close enough that their chests almost touched. His hand shot out, gripping Jimin's jaw firmly and tilting his head up so their eyes locked.

"You've got a smart mouth," Jungkook growled, his voice dripping with frustration.

"Maybe I should teach you what happens to brats who don't know when to stop.

"Jimin's heart hammered in his chest, but he refused to let it show. Instead, he licked his lips slowly, deliberately.

"Oh? And what exactly are you going to do about it, Jeon Jungkook? Scold me? Send me to my room?"

Jungkook's laugh was dark, humorless. "Hyung," he said, his voice laced with mockery, "you don't know what you're asking for."

Jimin arched an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. "Then show me."

That was all it took to make Jungkook snap.

Before Jimin could process what was happening, Jungkook spun him around and pressed him against the wall, his hands braced on either side of Jimin's head.

The older man sucked in a sharp breath, his pulse skyrocketing as Jungkook leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of Jimin's ear.

"You drive me fucking crazy," Jungkook hissed, his voice low and rough. "You prance around like you're untouchable, testing me, pushing me"

"Didn't know i had such effect on you Jeon, but to allow you make sense of why well i do that simply because I can," Jimin interrupted, his tone defiant.

Jungkook's chuckle was dark and guttural. "You think you're in control? That you can play your little games with me i could ruin you, hyung. Make you beg me to stop. Is that what you want?"

Jimin's lips parted, a shiver coursing through him, but he refused to let Jungkook see how his words affected him. "Big talk," he said, his voice trembling just slightly. "But all bark, no bite."

Jungkook growled, one hand sliding down to grip Jimin's hip roughly. "You're begging for it."

"And you're all talk," Jimin countered, turning his head to look at Jungkook over his shoulder, his expression taunting.

Jungkook's grip tightened, and for a moment, Jimin thought he might have pushed too far.

But instead of backing down, Jungkook leaned in even closer, his lips ghosting over Jimin's jawline.

"You think I won't do it?" he murmured, his voice dripping with menace and promise.

"Do what?" Jimin whispered, his defiance faltering as heat coiled low in his belly.

Jungkook's teeth grazed Jimin's ear, and the older man bit back a gasp. "I ought to bend you over this table,"

Jungkook growled, his free hand sliding down Jimin's waist and gripping the fabric of his jeans, "fuck the brat out of you until you can't talk back."

Jimin's breath hitched, his cheeks flaming, but he still managed a smirk. "But you won't."

Why.

Just why?

Okay alright jimin wanted to be a brat turn the tables around and all but this was way too far jimin wasn't meant to try to push jungkook into punishing him no no that wasn't the plan

right?

Jungkook froze for a moment, his grip tightening. Then he chuckled darkly, stepping back just enough to let Jimin turn and face him. "Oh, hyung," he said, his voice dangerously soft.

"You don't know how badly I want to prove you wrong."

Jimin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his smirk returning. "Then why don't you?"

Jungkook's eyes darkened, and he reached out, his hand tangling in Jimin's hair, tugging just hard enough to make Jimin gasp.

"Because," Jungkook said, his lips brushing against Jimin's, "you don't deserve it. Not yet."

Jimin's defiance faltered for the briefest of moments, his breath catching in his throat. "What makes you think I'd beg for it?"

Jungkook's smirk was wicked, his hand trailing down to cup Jimin's jaw.

"Oh, you will. Sooner or later, you'll beg me to take you apart. And when you do..."

He leaned in, his lips barely grazing Jimin's as he whispered, "I'll make sure you never forget who owns you."

The room was spinning, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. But before Jimin could muster a response, Jungkook released him abruptly, stepping back with a smug grin.

"I think we're done here," Jungkook said, his voice steady, his expression infuriatingly calm.

Jimin blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "You're just going to walk away?"Jungkook chuckled, his gaze lingering on Jimin's flushed cheeks and parted lips.

"For now. But don't get too comfortable, hyung. Next time, you won't be so lucky."

And with that, Jungkook turned and walked out, leaving Jimin breathless and trembling against the wall, his mind racing with a mix of frustration, desire, and something dangerously close to anticipation.

Jimin stood in the center of the room, trying to steady his breath, his hands instinctively reaching for the wall behind him.

The weight of the encounter still pressed against Jimin's chest like an iron brand.

He sank into the velvet couch, the plush fabric doing little to ease the ache in his muscles or the burn of humiliation beneath his skin.

The scent of Jungkook-cologne, leather, and something maddeningly heady-still clung to the air, making it impossible to think straight.

He threw an arm over his eyes, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he replayed every sharp word, every searing glance.

The velvet felt cool against the bare skin of his wrist, a stark contrast to the heat pooling low in his stomach.

Despite himself, Jimin let out a low groan, the sound muffled against his arm. "Get a fucking grip," he muttered, but the shame and the lingering ache made it hard to obey his own command.

His heart was racing, but that wasn't what made him uneasy. No. It was the unmistakable, throbbing sensation in his pants that had his body betraying him.

His dick was twitching painfully against the fabric of his jeans, the tightness in his boxers almost unbearable.

His body, that traitor, had reacted- had fucking responded-to everything Jungkook had said. And it made Jimin sick. He hated it.

Hated how easily Jungkook had been able to break through that wall he had built so carefully around himself. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, staring at his hands as they balled into fists.

The words Jungkook had whispered in his ear kept echoing in his mind. "I should bend you over this table and fuck the brat out of you..."

The thought alone was enough to make his cock twitch again, as if mocking him for his unwillingness to acknowledge it.

But fuck, the image was there-Jungkook standing behind him, grabbing his hair, forcing him down, making him beg.

The idea of it sent a rush of heat straight to his core, his entire body lighting up with shameful desire.

"Shit," Jimin hissed, rubbing his face as if trying to wipe away the evidence of his body's response.

But there it was. The unmistakable bulge in his pants. The wet patch on the front of his boxers where precum had leaked out.

The thought of Jungkook fucking him like he was a toy, like he was nothing more than a brat who deserved to be put in his place, was fucking intoxicating.

He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the heat that spread across his face. He wasn't some weak, helpless idiot. He hated Jungkook.

Jungkook was the enemy. He was the rival. The one who always pushed him to his limits, always taunting him, always digging under his skin, getting under his armor until there was nothing left but a boiling rage-and, apparently, need.

Jimin's hands moved to his jeans, gripping the fabric at his sides, trying to control the wave of frustration building inside him.

"I won't give in, he reminded himself. I won't be like those other guys who fall for his games. I'm not like them. I'm better than them."

But the truth was, he was tempted.

The heat between his legs grew more intense, a constant pressure that he couldn't escape.

He couldn't deny how badly he wanted it, how badly there was something deeper. Something that scared him.

Because as much as he hated Jungkook-despised everything about the way he acted, the way he manipulated and controlled people with his presence-he couldn't stop wanting him.

"I'm not a fucking weakling" he thought again, trying to convince himself, but his body didn't listen.

The thought of Jungkook making him beg-of Jungkook bending him over and showing him who's in charge- made him feel like his skin was on fire.

It was a dangerous, filthy thought, something that shouldn't even be in his head. But it was there, gnawing at him, impossible to ignore.

A low moan slipped past his lips before he could stop it. His hand shot down to his pants, pressing against the bulge, the pressure only making the need intensify.

He couldn't think clearly anymore, could barely even breathe.

"No. No, I won't let him have this power over me. I won't let Jungkook turn me into one of those pathetic idiots he manipulates with his smile and his fucking cocky attitude."

But there it was again-the memory of Jungkook's touch, his voice, how badly he wanted it, how badly he wanted Jungkook to come back into the room, to make good on all those dangerous words.

To take control. To make him submit, even if just for a moment.

Fuck.

"God, I'm a mess," Jimin muttered, his hands running through his hair, pulling at the strands in frustration.

He hated how quickly his body reacted to Jungkook's presence, to the sound of his voice, to the dark promises he made.

It wasn't just about the physicality of it, either. No, there was something deeper. Something that scared him.promises.

And the sick truth that Jimin wanted to be ruined. He wanted Jungkook to break him down, to make him feel something other than the anger and the hatred that had built up over the years.

Jimin slammed his fist into the wall, trying to ground himself. His mind was a mess, his body betraying him at every turn.

He had never been in this position before, never had the need claw at him like this, a hunger he couldn't explain.

But maybe, deep down, he didn't want to. Maybe he didn't want to fight this.

It wasn't all about the sex. No. It was about Jungkook. It was about how Jungkook made him feel like nothing, like a child.

A brat who needed to be disciplined. Who needed to be shown his place.

And as much as he hated to admit it, there was a part of him that wanted to be shown that.

The thought made him shudder. He hated it. But it didn't change how his body responded. He wanted it. He fucking needed it

"Fucking hell." Jimin's voice was rough, low, more breath than sound as the words left him. His whole body felt strung out, tight, trembling with tension that had nowhere to go.

He rubbed at his forehead with a shaky hand, the cool press of his fingers doing nothing to calm the heat roaring through him.

His skin felt too sensitive. His shirt dragged against his chest like sandpaper, every brush of fabric over his nipples sending a shock straight to his cock.

Even the air seemed too much, cold and biting against the warmth that radiated from his flushed skin.

He pushed away from the couch, every movement deliberate, sharp, his thighs trembling beneath him.

His body was betraying him, his dick stiff and aching, trapped uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.

He could feel the wetness of precum pooling in his boxers, sticky and hot against his skin.

It wasn't the sex. It wasn't even the tension. It was Jungkook.

Jungkook's sharp eyes, full lips, the way he could strip Jimin bare with nothing but a look.

The way his voice, laced with venom and condescension, made Jimin feel small, useless, weak. The way Jimin wanted to feel that way.

A shudder rolled through him, and he bit back a groan.

He stumbled out the back door, into the alley behind the Viper Den. The night air was cold, biting against his flushed skin.

It should've been grounding, but it only made him more aware of the fire burning low in his belly. His breathing was harsh, labored, every inhale feeling like it wasn't enough.

Fumbling, he dug a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with trembling fingers. He inhaled deeply, the smoke burning his lungs, the taste bitter and acrid on his tongue.

He coughed, the sound harsh in the quiet alley, but he didn't stop.

The cigarette didn't help. If anything, it made the tension worse, every drag of smoke coiling low in his belly, feeding the heat that was driving him insane.

His mind refused to let up, flashing with images of Jungkook's hands on him, bruising, controlling. Jungkook's voice, low and rough, dripping with disdain.

"You're nothing but a brat. A spoiled, useless little brat."

Oh great his mind had started inventing scenarios.

Jimin's knees nearly buckled at the thought. His free hand dropped to his belt, undoing it with a sharp tug.

The sound of the buckle clinking in the quiet alley sent a jolt straight through him, and his breath hitched. His hands moved on autopilot, unzipping his pants, freeing himself from the unbearable pressure.

His cock was already leaking, flushed and slick, precum smearing against his fingers as he wrapped a hand around it.

The relief was instant, a shuddering gasp escaping him as he squeezed the base, trying to hold back the tidal wave of sensation.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning back against the wall. His other hand brought the cigarette back to his lips, taking a long drag before exhaling slowly.

The smoke curled around him, mixing with the heady scent of arousal, filling his lungs and fogging his mind.

His strokes started slow, deliberate, his thumb swiping over the head to spread the slickness.

His hips jerked involuntarily, chasing the friction, and a low, broken sound escaped him.

He tried to focus on the cigarette, the burn in his throat, the weight of it between his fingers-but his mind was elsewhere.

Jungkook's sneer. The way his hand had gripped Jimin's jaw earlier, forcing him to look up. The strength in his arms, the heat in his gaze.

Jimin's hand sped up, his strokes becoming desperate, uneven. He could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, his thighs trembling as he braced himself against the wall.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured, his voice thick and mocking. The words tumbled out without thought, his lips curling into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

He took another drag from the cigarette, his free hand tugging harshly at his own hair, imagining Jungkook's fingers doing the same.

His breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered shut. He could almost hear Jungkook's voice, feel the heat of his breath against his ear.

"You'd look so pretty on your knees. Bet you'd love it if I fucked the brat out of you."

Jimin moaned, loud and unabashed, his head falling back against the wall. His hips bucked into his hand, chasing the friction, the sensation, the relief.

The cigarette dangled loosely from his lips, forgotten, as his other hand clawed at the wall behind him, searching for something to anchor him.

The tension in his body snapped, and his vision went white. His whole body shuddered as he came, hot and sticky, his release spilling over his hand and onto his stomach.

His knees gave out, and he slid down the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

For a long moment, he just sat there, panting, his head tilted back against the cold brick. The cigarette had fallen to the ground, its embers glowing faintly in the dark.

Shame crept in slowly, wrapping around him like a vice. He looked down at himself-his jeans unzipped, his shirt stained, his hand still sticky with cum-and let out a bitter laugh.

He'd just jerked off in a back alley, thinking about Jeon Jungkook.

"Pathetic," he muttered to himself, dragging a hand down his face. But even as he said it, the ghost of Jungkook's smirk lingered in his mind, and his body ached for more.

He was fucked. Absolutely, completely fucked.

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Sorry for the late update jammies been sick and mounting homework and study shits however how are we feeling ? Vote comment and whatever love ya

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