Chapter Text
Birds are singing outside the window. Afternoon sunlight falls into the room, shimmering through red crowns of maple trees. The office smells like herbal tea, books and fall air.
Jungkook sits in a cozy, huge armchair swallowing him whole. On the coffee table in front of him, two china cups are waiting to be filled with hot water from a steaming pot next by. Across from Jungkook a second, empty armchair promises company. Jungkook's eyes wander over the expensive looking mahogany furniture. The tidy desk in a corner, the massive bookshelves lining the walls.
It's all very deceiving, in his opinion. This isn't a place you want to end up at. Like prison, or a war zone. Probably not quite as bad, but Jungkook can't be sure yet. It could be, for all he knows. It very well could be. If he had a choice, he sure as hell wouldn't be here. He'd grab his tattered duffle bag, swing it over his shoulder and bolt. Get a taxi to take the bumpy road out of this creepy forest and drive home.
Home, where his parents and brother would send him right back. Even if he had a choice, his family would expect him to partake in the program. They think it helps. Everyone seems to think it helps, but Jungkook heard one too many horror stories about facilities like this. Stories about sexual assault, violence and locked doors. About mobile phones being taken away and brutal punishments for every attempt to leave. He's seen the pictures online with his own eyes – pictures of bruised faces, wrists, knees.
His eyes flicker to the closed door behind him. If he got up and walked over, would he be able to open it? Maybe they locked it. He's already trapped, he just doesn't know yet. For all he's heard, it's possible. Realistic, even.
His knee starts to twitch. Jungkook hugs his bag close to his chest and buries his fingers in the rough fabric. The room feels too small around him. The heavy, dark furniture edges closer, swallowing the light falling through the windows, and Jungkook has to fight the urge to jump to his feet. He wants to bang against the door with his fists, shouting. He wouldn't do that, of course not, but – he should check if the door is still unlocked. To make sure it is.
Before Jungkook works up the courage to leave the safety of his armchair, however, the door opens on its own, making him flinch. Muffled chatter, laughter and steps of people walking past the office pour into the room. One voice is closer than the rest and Jungkook almost understands what it's saying. It's a male voice, the matching laughter deep and warm.
A moment later, Jungkook is introduced to the person it belongs to. First, his head appears, then the rest of his body as he walks through the door, smiling.
Tall. He's tall with long arms and legs. That's the first thing Jungkook notices. He's wearing an expensive-looking, steel gray suit, tie included. It flatters him, hugging his torso and strong thighs. There's no doubt that he belongs here. It's easy for Jungkook to picture him sitting behind the big, opulent desk.
The next thing Jungkook learns is that it's impossible for him to meet this man's eyes. They're intelligent, open and spear right through Jungkook, pinning him to the armchair. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't stand up. And god, does he want to. Jungkook's eyes dart to the door, his hammering heart leaving him dizzy. This is the last chance. In a few moments, he'll shut the door and Jungkook will be trapped. Trapped in this gloomy office, in this European mansion, in a den full of hungry wolves who'll tear him to shreds. He's sitting tight like an arrow on the bowstring, ready to fly.
The man halts, his long fingers still wrapped around the door handle, and Jungkook stares. He stares and waits for him to shut it, to turn a key in the keyhole, locking them in. The moment until the guy lets go feels longer than a century. His fingers lift off the handle and he walks over to the empty armchair, the door ... remaining open.
Jungkook realizes he's holding his breath only when he lets go of it, exhaling jittery. More sunlight falls from the hallway into the office, the walls don't feel as close anymore. Hesitant, Jungkook turns from the door to his new company and is met with a smile, light and inviting.
While Jungkook obsessed over the exit, he sat down across from him, pouring hot water into their cups. Now, he puts the pot back and sits up, legs crossed, interlaced hands resting above his belt, the way he moves careful and deliberate. Slow, like he's dealing with a wild animal. He's comfortable, the polar opposite of Jungkook. It's easy for him, though. They're in his house. A home match and another way in which Jungkook is at a disadvantage.
"Jeon Jungkook, right?", he says, his deep voice zapping Jungkook, making him nauseous.
Steeling himself, Jungkook nods.
The smile becomes warmer and he extends a hand Jungkook doesn't want to shake. Looking over the guy's shoulder to avoid his eyes, Jungkook takes it and squeezes quickly before he lets go, pressing his own hand back into his duffle bag. The man's smile never wavers.
"I'm Kim Namjoon, head dominant of the Shinamu Academy. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Namjoon pauses to give Jungkook time to return the courtesy. He does not.
"Did you have a long drive up here, Jungkook-ssi?", Namjoon continues unfazed, lifting his teacup to his lips. "I know it's a little far off."
No, he didn't. In fact, he lives in the nearest city and it took only half an hour for his parents to deport him to Shinamu. It was painfully easy to get rid of him. But Kim Namjoon doesn't have to know that, so Jungkook keeps quiet. He shifts and turns his head, staring out of the window. Red maple leaves dance in the fall breeze, dying.
Jungkook hears Namjoon putting his cup back down, the soft noise of porcelain meeting porcelain ringing through the room. Namjoon hums. "I see", he murmurs. "I take it you're not interested in having a conversation, then."
A wave of nausea washes through Jungkook's body, his head too light. His heart stutters and it's almost impossible to keep his face neutral. No, he doesn't want to talk with the head dom of a brainwashing facility, not at all. But maybe – maybe he should. He's going to spend some time here, and he's already making things worse for himself. It won't be good if Namjoon hates him. He'll talk to the other dominants about Jungkook and they will be wary of him from the start. Displeasing a dominant ... Pictures of bruises and black eyes pop up in Jungkook's mind.
Sick to his stomach, he swallows. No. That won't happen to him. Not as long as he can avoid it. Slowly, he looks at Namjoon again. Jungkook doesn't know what Namjoon sees in his careful gaze, but his eyes soften.
"I don't blame you", Namjoon says offhandedly, "I'm not the biggest fan of small talk either. So let's skip that and get down to business, ah?"
Down to business. If his hands weren't shaking, Jungkook would grab his tea to wash the sour taste of bile back down his throat. He's seen videos of dominants 'breaking in' new subs arriving at educational institutions. They used wooden staffs to beat them, or whips. The sound of bullwhips slicing through the air and hitting skin still rings in Jungkook's ears. Namjoon seems nice, harmless, but Jungkook won't let himself be fooled. The smiling ones are the worst, because they believe what they're doing is the right thing. Moral. They lack a guilty conscience.
He glances towards the open door again. How far away is the entrance? He could make it. It's a short sprint. He'd use his bag to buy time, throw it at Namjoon if he follows him. Jungkook is strong, and if he puts enough weight behind the swing, it –
"Jungkook-ssi."
Flinching, he looks at Namjoon. This time, his eyes are serious, piercing through Jungkook's head as if he can read his thoughts. Jungkook almost bolts for real, bag pressed to his chest.
"I know you are scared, I know you feel trapped", Namjoon says. "And I know, if I tell you that the horrible videos and photos you saw were propaganda of the most disgusting nature, you wouldn't believe me – if I told you it's people's way to keep submissive men naive and uneducated. So I'll say only this one thing I hope you will learn to be true", he pauses, looking at Jungkook so openly it makes him uncomfortable, "lies are not tolerated in this house."
Namjoon is right. Jungkook doesn't believe him. The feeling of anger simmering inside of him is dangerous, but he can't swallow it down.
It's unfair. No, it's insulting, to think he'd be that easy to catch. As if he was stupid enough to eat up everything Namjoon says, just because he says it convincingly. Doms are born to convince subs to do shit, and Jungkook can't shake the suspicion that that's exactly what's happening right now. He's stronger than that. He has to be, no matter how easy it would be to believe Namjoon. How right it would feel.
Clenching his teeth, Jungkook inhales sharply. "I don't want to be here", he says, swallowing when his voice comes out quiet and rough.
Namjoon hums affirmatively, a calming sound that has Jungkook's tense shoulders melting, and he wants to throw his bag at him even if he doesn't run.
"It's not my fault that both my parents are subs. It's not my fault I have no doms in my family", Jungkook continues, blinking to ease the pressure behind his eyes. No crying. He won't cry.
Again, Namjoon hums. "No, it's not."
"Then why do I have to go to prison for it?", he glares at Namjoon through wet lashes.
On the inside, he acknowledges that he's being dramatic, but he decides that he'll allow himself to be. He usually isn't, and he has a good reason to be upset today, so fuck it. Fuck his parents. Fuck this place. Fuck Namjoon.
"This isn't –
"I thought you weren't gonna lie", Jungkook interrupts quietly. "So why are you saying this isn't like a prison when I'm not allowed to leave?"
The teacup he's staring at blurs before his eyes. It has stopped steaming a while ago, all that is left a clear, green miniature sea, bitter and cold. In the hallway, steps are coming and going, a pair of talking men passing the office.
After a while, Namjoon speaks up, his answer calm and thoughtful. "Why do people go to prison, Jungkook-ssi?"
Jungkook closes his eyes, wiping his cheek with one hand. "Because they are being punished", he whispers.
"Yes, exactly." Namjoon's suit crinkles as he shifts. "But you aren't. You are not here to undergo punishment, not at all."
He sounds like he really buys that and for a moment, Jungkook wants to laugh. When he opens his eyes, Namjoon sits leaning towards him, worry written all over his face. As if he knew how Jungkook is feeling. As if he knew how it is to be born a sub.
"I will be beaten and ordered and fucked no matter what I say – no matter if I want it." A big lump is forming in his throat, and he has to push the words around it with force. "If it's not punishment, it's torture."
Shadows cloud Namjoon's face, the compassion melting into an expression Jungkook can't interpret. His lips are pressed to a thin line when he sits back, tenser than he's been during their whole conversation. "There are times when we will push you", Namjoon says, frowning, "But you'll always have a safe word. Always, Jungkook-ssi, do you understand? Say stop, and the scene ends. Write something on your red list, and you won't come across it. That's it. There's no rape in my house, no torture."
Huffing, Jungkook looks away, the lump in his throat growing bigger. He doesn't want to talk about it anymore, he's sick of Namjoon's lies. Apparently, the brainwashing has started. 'Pushing him', sure. What's that even supposed to mean?
"You're here because you need to get used to the presence of dominants. Because you have to learn how you react to their orders. It's a safe environment to learn about yourself, about what you like", Namjoon adds, voice soft.
In the corner of his eye, Jungkook sees a man stepping through the open door inside. He's dressed in the same outfit Jungkook has seen around the house when he arrived. Gray shorts ending above the knees; a loose, white shirt and – a collar. A wide, black collar, multi-layered and thick with a dangling metal ring at the front. Perfect to attach something. A leash, or a chain.
A cold shiver runs down Jungkook's spine, his stomach twisting. He presses himself deeper into the soft armchair and focuses on his hands, avoiding Namjoon's eye or the stranger's smile. His ears are hot, he knows his face is turning red.
"I'm sorry, Namjoon-nim, I didn't mean to interrupt", the man apologises. "Jimin-nim said you needed me. If I'm too early I'll wait outside –"
"No need." There's a smile in Namjoon's voice and Jungkook knows the gloomy expression disappears from his face. "You came right in time to show Jungkook to his room. Jungkook-ssi, this is Lee Jihoon."
Clutching his hands, Jungkook forces himself to look up and meet Jihoon's gaze. If he ignores the thing around his throat, it's bearable. Jihoon isn't half as intimidating as Namjoon, which makes sense. The outfit has Jungkook guessing that he's a sub, so he doesn't pose a threat. He's in the same miserable position as Jungkook.
Jungkook gives a curt nod in greeting and Jihoon returns it, smiling.
All this smiling ties Jungkook's guts into thick knots. It's so strange. Like the subs are actually comfortable around Namjoon, comfortable in this prison. Jungkook can't relate. The manipulation tactics have to be incredible here.
"Jihoon is going to be your companion", Namjoon says. "Every new submissive gets an older, more experienced sub as a mentor. He'll provide guidance during your stay, help you to learn our rules and answer questions you don't want to discuss with the dominants."
Now, Jihoon's smile sends chills down his back. So he's another person who's going to try and brainwash Jungkook into a good little plaything. A spy, great.
Jungkook grabs his duffle bag around its handle. At least going with Jihoon means he'll get away from Namjoon, for now. If he had to hear one more lie about consent and the purpose of this facility, he'd throw up. He's been feeling sick since he stepped foot into this house and with every word Namjoon speaks to him, it gets worse. He wants to be alone, unpack his stuff and forget that he isn't home for a while. With his duffle bag over his shoulder, Jungkook get's up and walks over to Jihoon.
He doesn't want to be rude, but it's still hard to look at him and his little outfit. His uniform. Fuck, they aren't even allowed to wear their own clothing. Jungkook's fingers tighten around the strap of his bag. One thing is clear, he won't wear a collar. He won't. He isn't – he isn't a dog and they can't force him. Jungkook makes the decision right at that moment, his heart on fire, bile in his mouth. Never.
"Goodnight, sir", Jihoon says next to him, bowing.
Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, sharp tingles shooting down his spine like electricity. Sir. Is that how Namjoon likes to be called by his subs? It sounds foreign to Jungkook's ears.
He's never seen a dom and a sub interacting with each other so openly before. Standing here, it feels like Jungkook is intruding. It's kind of funny, with him not wanting to be here in the first place.
"Goodnight, Jihoon-ah. Thank you."
With that, Jihoon turns to leave and Jungkook follows, eager to go. He doesn't want to be in the same room as Namjoon and one of his subs. It makes his hands sweaty and tugs at his heart to see them together. It's wrong, inappropriate.
Before they're out of the door, Namjoon speaks up again, making Jihoon stop and thus, Jungkook too. "Goodnight, Jungkook-ssi", he says, his voice a solid brick wall for Jungkook to run into. "Sleep well."
Oh, right. He didn't say goodbye. With warm cheeks and his heart beating against his ribcage, Jungkook turns his head to look at Namjoon.
Seeing him sit in his armchair like this – upright, legs crossed, piercing Jungkook with his eyes – there's no doubt that he's head of the house. The confidence and control surrounding him make Jungkook want to look down. To go down. It's hard to hold his gaze, like Jungkook is ten years old again, sitting in the principal's office because he got caught cheating during a test. Namjoon's presence is so much bigger than him. Overwhelming.
Namjoon raises his eyebrows, a small, quiet smile on his lips, and Jungkook's knees threaten to buckle. He holds the strap of his bag like it's the only thing keeping him on his feet.
"Goodnight, um. Goodnight, Namjoon-ssi", Jungkook stutters, Namjoon's name clumsy on his tongue, a traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispering that it would've been easier to call him sir. But that won't happen. Turning with a racing heart and a bad taste in his mouth, Jungkook walks out of Namjoon's office.
•••••••••••••••
"Are you okay, Jungkook-ssi?"
The house is gigantic, even bigger than it looks from the outside. It could pass as a small school building and Jungkook asks himself how long it'll take him to find his way around, Jihoon leading him past doors, doors and more doors. Admittedly, it's a lot cozier than his old high school. It doesn't look like a school at all. Everything is undoubtedly expensive and he doesn't come across a speck of dust. It's impressive. Jungkook hopes they tip their cleaners well.
"Jungkook-ssi?"
Blinking, Jungkook focuses on Jihoon. He smiles a weak smile, still feeling sick.
"Sorry", he murmurs, his gaze bouncing from the big windows to the small chandeliers hanging from the ceiling to Jihoon's face. "It's, um ..."
"A lot", he says softly, nodding. "I get it."
Curious, Jungkook eyes Jihoon while they're walking. He may be a spy for the doms, but he's also the first sub at Shinamu he gets to talk to. Even if Jihoon tells Namjoon the things they discuss, what has Jungkook to lose? He told the head dom everything he thought about his institution minutes ago. There's not much left to hide.
Sizing Jihoon up, Jungkook is on the hunt for marks, bruises, signs of abuse or distress. It's fruitless. The sub is well-nourished and healthy to the tips of his brown hair. Jungkook has to admit that he's practically gleaming, warm contentment radiating from him. It feels like meeting an overworked friend who just returned from a spa weekend, now well rested and glowing with it. Strange and comforting at the same time. Eery. Who knew good brainwashing could be so refreshing, huh?
Jungkook switches the hand carrying his bag. Shinamu has to be one of the academies that are very good at leaving no trails behind. There's only so much of Jihoon's body Jungkook can inspect while he's dressed, it's possible that his ass is black and blue right this moment. His thighs covered in welts, his back scarred, or, god, his throat –
When they reach the stairs, Jihoon stops and turns, Jungkook barely avoiding crashing into him. Standing on the first step, one hand on the railing, he looks down on Jungkook with a knowing gleam in his eyes.
Heat rushes into Jungkook's face. Maybe he isn't as sneaky as he thinks he is.
"Tomorrow I'll come pick you up at 7:30 and walk you to the doctor's office. You'll have a physical examination, it's the rule for new subs. After, we'll have breakfast and you'll meet the other doms. When you're finished and up to it, Namjoon will explain the details of the program", Jihoon explains. "Oh, there's a pamphlet with basic rules in your room. If I were you, I'd read it."
Jungkook nods with warm ears, surprised by the sudden gush of words pouring over him. He thought Jihoon was introverted, maybe a little shy, but now he comes across as anything but.
Jihoon hesitates before he continues, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. "I know you don't trust me", he says, and Jungkook doesn't disagree, "but we all had a first day. For all it's worth, I promise you'll be okay, Jungkook-ssi."
•••••••••••••
His duffle bag lands on the bed with a muffled thump, bouncing on the mattress. Jungkook closes the door behind him and leans against it, taking a second to shut his eyes. He inhales, holds it, then lets it out as a sigh.
Outside, the sky is still blue. Now that he's alone, however, Jungkook feels like sleeping. The range of emotions he's been haunted by sucked all energy out of him. He's ready to forget this day, forget where he is. Unfortunately, it's not that easy. The lump in his throat is making a strong comeback. Jungkook swallows and opens his eyes. He has a room to inspect.
It could've been worse, he decides. Way worse. At first glance, it's a nice, small room and Jungkook's shoulders slump down in relief. It really is small, though. A bed under the window, a wardrobe, a desk with a chair and two doors, one of them leading to the hallway. There's a thick rug on the floor, so Jungkook kneels to take his shoes off. The color scheme is inviting, everything made out of light wood; the walls painted white, the floorboards a contrasting chocolate brown. Could be chestnut planks, he isn't sure.
Jungkook takes a step forward and opens the second door, switches the light on. To his delight, it's his own tiny bathroom, shower included. More tension leaves his back. This means he'll have privacy to lick his wounds, at least.
The one thing, the only thing, that makes him squeezy are the missing keys to both doors. There's no way to lock them, anybody could wander inside, watch him sleep, touch him. Jungkook forces himself to let it go, just for now. Thinking about the keys will make him panic, and he has to stay calm. If he'll panic, he won't be able to stop.
Reluctantly, he turns to the bed. Sticking out under his bag is the pamphlet Jihoon mentioned. Jungkook grabs it and pulls it out, flipping it open. He skips the lying 'welcome at Shinamu academy' text and heads straight to the rules.
Submissives at Shinamu Academy are expected to adhere to the following rules. Obedience is essential for harmonious relationships and personal growth.
1. Subs have to wear the house uniform
2. Honesty is expected, lying during conversations between doms and subs is prohibited
3. Rooms are not to be locked, for safety reasons
4. Doms are to be treated with respect and according to the given circumstances, e.g. usage of titles
5. Masturbating and orgasm without permission are prohibited
6. Leaving the academy grounds without permission is prohibited
Breaking the basic rules will result in a rebuke and/or punishment. The rules can be overriden by a direct, opposing comand, rule number 2 excluded.
Number one and two make Jungkook angry, his brows drawn together. They are disgusting and hypocritical. No lying, really? A weak tactic to get him to trust the doms. Besides, he's not allowed to lie either, and who tells the truth every time they speak? Seems like made up crap to have a cheap reason to punish subs.
Jungkook has an idea how punishments might look like. His guts recoil when he thinks about it. He's going to avoid that for as long as possible – if it's not too late and Namjoon already hates him. His knees weak, Jungkook sits down on the bed, soft and inviting underneath him.
The remaining rules three to six make him nauseous, every single one a punch to his stomach. Number five has his face warming and he barely manages to continue reading. He's going to touch himself whenever he feels like it, thank you very much. Not that it's going to be often, in a place like this. Existential dread is a turn-off in Jungkook's book.
Sighing, he tips over to the side, burying his face in the sheets. They smell good; clean, fresh, slightly like lavender. When he closes his eyes, it's easy to imagine that he's staying in a hotel. Maybe his parents are one room away from him, unpacking their suitcases right this moment, laughing. Crying, Jungkook curls around his duffle bag and falls asleep in his hoodie and jeans.