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.

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.

Acknowledges the mutual wanting by another rumble in a well-formed chest that almost seems questioning, seeking permission for what would be taken by force anyway. And it is in that gentle moment of tender trust that harsh hands let go of their iron grip to move languidly over shivering sides, buzzing with anticipation.

Find no resistance when forcefully flipping a stupid prey onto the stomach and ripping off ruined undergarments, one arm strongly wrapping around the middle as the other seeks support in the earth before colliding in sinful breathtaking madness.

The sheer size of the strange boy coaxes out a gasp that leaves the offending party chuckling in an animalistic manner, pressing griggles into the tender skin of the throat that continues to be assaulted to mark territory. Even more alongside snarls sending mixed signals of having to be quiet yet wanting to assert dominance by pushing vocals so others can hear who belongs to the wolffish stranger, losing her maidenhead to an extraordinary stranger.

Digits tangle into long fluffy jet black locks, lashes descending further and further down the rabbit hole firmly shut as speech is reduced to whining like a bitch in heat. 'F- Fuck, you're- Ah! S- so big.'

The pace speeds up at the compliment, frantic hips advancing faster in a rougher fashion, pressing hard against the ones becoming bruised for the grandest possible impact.

But also to indicate being not of a normal nature.

Affected by a beastly season, as becomes clear from a brief look over the shoulder that is quickly made undone by palm wrapping around the back of the neck and forcing it down. A scream flows over in a loud whimper at a new bite that is deeper than they had been till now, the vibrations of dangerously low grunting increasing the pleasure helped by the perverse thoughts which find a voice. 'Y- You're a wolf, a- aren't you? Shit, y- your cock feels s- so good, so big.'

Again, the praise is received by acknowledging perversely proud snarling as the bodily connection is further exploited by the wild lover. More so after being spurred on by the illogical stream of a blabbering mouth, likely acting upon the sounds of the sweetly uttered syllables than their meaning. 'Y- You gonna knot me? F- Force that big knot i- inside my slick dripping pussy? P- Pump me full, g- give me cubs?'

One final thrust uncaring of not having unravelled brings a new agonizing sensation that is slightly nuanced thanks to the filling spreading sticky warmth, eyes rolling back in pained whimpering pleasure as the hold on tightly held onyx strands slackens. Picking up on the distress of the barely fitting swelling, a big nose nuzzles the heavily marked neck, kindly licking the damaged skin here and there, as the steadying embrace is strengthened.

Becomes even stronger when burying the face entirely into the side of the throat while contrastingly carefully breaking off the quaint enchantment after a seeming torturesome eternity, thus introducing a new form of discomfort in the shape of warm thick liquid dribbling down thighs.

And the sensation of hot hardened skin being pressed against the behind, trying to prime for reconnecting in a new place. Big calloused palms overtly admire the softness of skin, satisfied grunting nails digging into it to claim ownership again.

Something that would gladly be given were it not for the exhaustion and disappointing toll of being left tethering without falling.

The fear of burning stretching hurt.

'Pl- Please, n- not there.'

A plead made in vain for the wolf forcefully establishes the bodily union anew searing inch by searing inch, leaving both of us barely breathing in senselessness.

And this time, Body does not accept it at all, the agony making tears stream over flushed cheeks. 'P- Pull out. I- I can't handle- ah!'

But the boy of the forest does not care, setting a ruthless pace in the woods that come to be filled with laboured beastly grunts and pathetic sobbing mewls. However, this time there is no biting, only a human face concealing the animal beneath coming close again but not enough for it buries itself between bare shoulder blades, nipping at the skin.

'C- C'mere.' Palms trying desperately to ignore the burning passion grown into torment beckon the nameless lover, caressing the cheek naturally leaning into the touch, almost purring. 'C- Come closer.'

A curious shimmer lies in the winter night irises, which grows significantly when lips properly meet for the first time in a laughably chaste kiss. A wondering rumble is accompanied by a slight tilt of the head, a few obsidian locks draping partially over the wondrous boy's visage. Evidently, the novelty of the contact leaves behind an adorable wonder.

Which soon makes place for the beast beneath the surface when mouths crash and the merciless rhythm from before is picked up again, reintroducing the pain. Withal, while hips snap ruthlessly hard and fast, it seems to function as a means of distracting from the hurt as well as an enhancement in the primal chase. It is sweet how every time a sob wants to tear itself free, the stranger nullifies it by swallowing it in a growling yet loving kiss, how a proud smirk forms every time lips merely brush as sharp breath is tried to be steadied somewhat though fails when moaning in a paradoxical masochistic concoction.

Or to whisper a desperate plead against, speech breathless with crying. 'P- Pl- Please, don't breed. D- Don't breed me a- again. I ca- can't handle y- your knot. Pl- Please, please! Plea- Please, s- stop. P- Pull ou- out! Ah!'

Only to have the begging disregarded in a clearly disgruntled manner as the swelling of the wolf's gratitude is forced in again, fangs sinking into the right shoulder and staying put until the bodily union is deepened as much as possible. That is when they retract and an affectionate tongue licks the wound clean, the gradually soothed pain forming a diversion from the new immensely uncomfortable stretch, Body emphasizing this again and again by trying to fight it or at least adjust - howbeit in vain - to the large shape causing the distress.

Becomes incredibly grateful with relief when it is solely a thick stream once more instead of sensual beastly yet welcomed assault.

Just like the barely conscious hands cradling the odd yet beautiful and touching face of the nameless lover, being gently laid down on the picnic blanket after the physical spell is made undone and purring fills the silence spread by the warm summer breeze.

The scent of the forest and free running wolves would never be experienced again, the boy nevermore seen after slumbering eyes opened a few hours later to find themselves lying on a baby's blanket functioning as a nest and which was engraved with a name.

Jungkook.

The same name given to the son born nine months after the encounter, wrapped in the same blanket.

The only remnant I will have of the wolf in the woods.

The only sliver of love.

The only memory of him.