Author's Note: Happy birthday to our beloved golden maknae, Jeon Jungkook!
Giving a smut as a kind of birthday present to such an incredible and sweet lad is perhaps inappropriate, but whatever offence might be taken from this piece shall hopefully be made up in the full-fledged fic that has sprung forth from this idea. However, it should be stressed that Kook is a person far removed from the persona in the fic and the two are thus separate people. Only the latter, the character described, is perhaps a more sexualized view of the talented cinnamon bun we all love and cherish.
Before I start rambling and drifting off too much, I shall cut the note here with a final message:
Once again, lad, happy birthday. May you prosper and may we have many more years with ye.
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Meetings are an extraordinary thing and can lead to many events for Fate presents various opportunities, some visible and some hidden beneath the veil of reality. These particular chances are of a supernatural nature, the mystery alluring an otherwise sane mind into folly.
Thus, bare feet tired from roaming the forest remain firmly rooted in place, toes curling into the carmine and alabaster chequered fabric of the picnic cloth refraining an innocent crisp ivory dress from being stained by dirt. What has them so riled up is the curious beautiful young man with hair like a pitch dark winter sky and sweet big eyes that spark with the contrasting dangerous temptation in the overall demeanour. Withal, what truly lies at the heart of the whirlpool of foolish butterflies in the stomach is the blatant wanton leaking beneath lips bitten down on by teeth showing sharp canines.
'Who are you?'
Every step closer tightens the unjust knot wanting intimate contact despite not knowing the stranger, idiotically lingering while any other person would have run away. Mayhaps it is due to the intoxicating scent of wood and free wolves with a tinge of blood which is carried on the soft summer breeze slightly lifting the lace dress to unintentionally reveal more gradually heating skin, mayhaps the appreciative growl coming from that same mouth while being meticulously observed.
Perhaps the sudden closeness when the weird youth falls to his knees, looming as if over prey while rough fingers pin down wrists to the fabric below. Perhaps the overload of senses, induced by the confrontation with the magical aspect of nature out of the blue in a wonderful form.
'C- Can you, ah!' Dagger sharp fangs bite into skin, drawing crimson that is lovingly licked away and the hurting spot shortly nuzzled before repeating. 'C- Can you talk?'
Apparently not, judging by the snarl of which the palms force thighs apart to make wanton sexual craving known, acquainting it with the thin material of underwear aroused by the contact.
This is where the line should be drawn. Yet, an undefinable element in the bright colourless irises staring down asks for staying together and betrays knowing very well what the effect of the situation is on a simple girl who came out for a summer stroll through the woods.
