💌

Pairing: King jk x widowed (fem) reader.

Character count: 14,962

Genre: Dark Romance | Historical

Summary: When ruthless warlord Jeon conquers a rival kingdom, he slaughters its royal bloodline including the cruel king who once claimed Y/N as his wife. But instead of casting her aside, Jeon takes her as his own, stripping her of her former title and making her his possession. She was never meant to be a queen. She was meant to be his.

The air reeked of blood and burning wood, the sky dark with the smoke of a fallen kingdom. Screams had long since faded into silence, leaving only the sound of victorious banners fluttering in the wind.

The Kingdom had fallen.

This was not just another kingdom swallowed by his empire. No this war had been waged with a purpose far beyond power. It was her. The ghost of a woman he had never seen, only heard of in whispers the famed beauty of the lost kingdom, Y/N.

People had spoken of her ethereal grace, of her skin that glowed like moonlight and eyes that held galaxies within them.

At the heart of the carnage, Jeon sat upon the grand throne, one boot resting on the fallen king’s lifeless body and the golden crown of the fallen king crushed beneath his boot.

The scent of blood and smoke lingered in the air mingling with the screams of the last remnants of a dying dynasty.

His victory was absolute. The kingdom now belonged to him. And so did everything within it.

Including her.

She was a vision in a silk dress , the color of winter’s first snow.

___

Amidst it all, She ran.

Bare feet against the cold marble, her silken gown now soaked in the lifeblood of her people, dragging behind her like a ghostly shroud. The palace corridors, once familiar, had become a maze of death and ruin. She barely noticed the bodies, the shattered glass of once grand chandeliers. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat, the rasp of her breath and the distant clamor of armored boots in pursuit.

She had seen him.

He had stood amidst the wreckage of her throne room, a wolf in the den of slaughter, dark eyes scanning the ruin with calculated indifference.

He had looked at her like a claim already made, and that had been enough to send her fleeing.

She stumbled through the grand doors of the palace and into the frozen night, her thin gown no barrier against the relentless cold. Snowflakes kissed her tear streaked cheeks as she pushed forward, her breath rising in desperate clouds.

The forest loomed ahead a tangle of frostbitten branches and endless dark. She plunged into its depths without hesitation. The crown she had once been forced to wear had been torn from her head, her hair cascading around her face in disheveled waves.

The trees whispered around her, the wind howling like a grieving specter. Her feet tore through the frozen undergrowth, bare skin sliced by unseen thorns but she did not stop.

She could not stop.

She knew they would come. She had seen it in his eyes obsidian pools that swallowed light, a gaze that spoke of possession and a hunger far more dangerous than the battlefield he had razed.

She tried to be silent, tried to disappear into the vast expanse of snow and night but her body betrayed her. A misstep her foot catching on a hidden root sent her tumbling forward. She crashed into the snow, pain exploding through her limbs as she gasped, clawing at the frost with trembling hands.

She scrambled to rise, but it was too late.

A shadow loomed over her, swallowing the pale light of the moon.

Him.

The air shifted with his presence, heavy with something she could not name. His breath came steady, controlled, unaffected by the chase. He had known this would happen. He had allowed her to run, entertained her futile escape before closing in like a beast playing with his prey.

"You thought you could run from me?" His voice was velvet over steel, dark and slow, as though savoring the moment.

Y/N trembled, her body wracked with exhaustion, yet she found herself inching back, her palms sinking into the snow.

Jeon crouched before her, gloved fingers tilting her chin upwards, forcing her to meet the gaze she had so desperately tried to avoid.

"You should know better" he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. "I do not chase what I do not intend to catch."

The rumors had not done her justice.

She was exquisite, a masterpiece carved by the gods themselves.

Even in her disarray, she was ethereal.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she did not fight. She had nothing left to fight for.

A cruel smile tugged at Jeon's lips as he leaned forward.

"Your king is dead. Your kingdom is mine"

With that his hand moved lower, gliding down the torn fabric of her gown, feeling the tremor beneath his touch. And then without warning, he slid his arms beneath her one under her knees, the other wrapping around her back.

She gasped as the ground disappeared beneath her, the sudden closeness of him knocking the breath from her lungs. Her hands instinctively grasped at his shoulders, clutching at the thick fabric of his cloak as he lifted her effortlessly.

The world around them blurred as Jeon carried her back, his strides slow, deliberate, savoring every second of the act.

His men stood waiting at the forest’s edge, their eyes carefully averted, knowing better than to interrupt.

Jeon was the master of every inch of this kingdom now but she was a different kind of victory.

A victory he would not let slip from his grasp

__

Jeon had wanted her from the moment he had laid eyes on her. A forbidden desire had taken root deep within him when he had first seen her beside the now dead king , a man unworthy of even touching the hem of her gown, much less claiming her as his.

__

The journey from the snow laden forest to Jeon’s kingdom was a silent one. His kingdom loomed ahead like a fortress of stone, walls that could never be breached.

When they finally crossed the threshold into the warmth of Jeon’s kingdom, the heavy iron gates closed behind them with a resounding clang, sealing off the outside world.

He called for his servants, his voice firm and authoritative.

“Take her to my chambers,” he ordered coldly. “Strip her of the dead king’s colors. She wears only what I give her now.”

__

The scent of lavender and jasmine filled the air as the maids scrubbed away the blood, the dirt, the remnants of her former life.

But no matter how many times they washed her, no matter how many hands gently soothed her skin, there were things that could not be erased.

The marks on her body. The scars both physical and emotional that she had borne under her husband’s cruel reign.

Afterward, Y/N was dressed in a delicate white nightgown. It clung to her thin frame, the silk soft against her skin, but it did nothing to ease the chill in her bones. The gown was far more modest than the opulent dress she had worn in her past life but it was far too intimate for her current circumstances.

As the maids finished their task, they led her down the stone corridors of Jeon’s castle to his private chambers.

The room was enormous, warm with a roaring fire. She stood silently before him, her eyes cast downward. Jeon stood by the bed his posture strong, unyielding and as always, a palpable aura of control surrounded him.

He moved toward her without a word, his presence overwhelming.

His eyes narrowed as they settled on her shoulders and arms.

His fingers hovered near her shoulder, brushing against the faded remnants of bruises.

“That pathetic excuse for a king,” he spat, his voice dripping with disgust.

“A man unworthy of a throne, unworthy of a crown and certainly unworthy of you."

Jeon growled, his hands flexing as if he longed to tear apart a man who was already rotting in the ground.

"What did you call him?" he mused, tilting his head. "My king? My husband?" He laughed, dark and mocking.

"No king allows his castle to fall while he cowers in his chambers. And a husband…" He paused, his fingers ghosting over the fading bruises on her wrist.

His expression turned cold. "A husband does not treat his wife like a common whore to be used and discarded. I barely had to lift my blade before he was groveling at my feet, begging for his life like a spineless dog"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, the image flashing in her mind. She had not loved the king, but his death had been brutal. The sound of steel slicing through flesh, the gurgled choking as he bled out it haunted her.

Jeon exhaled, stepping back slightly.

"I should make you my whore," he mused. "A slave to warm my bed, nothing more. It would be fitting for the widow of such a disgraceful man."

Her stomach twisted in fear.

"But no," he murmured, as if reconsidering. "Though your husband was a disgrace, you are now mine"

His gaze darkened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

"Did he ever touch you properly?" Jeon murmured, his voice turning low, almost teasing.

Jeon chuckled darkly. “Of course not. I imagine he was just as pathetic in bed as he was on the battlefield. Weak. Incompetent.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear. “Did he even know what to do with you? Or did he fumble like the fool he was?”

Y/N’s breath stuttered. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to think about it.

Jeon chuckled at her silence.

“You will no longer be a widow,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather.

“You will be my wife. You wil bear my mark and sleep in my bed and by the time I am done with you, you will forget you ever belonged to anyone else.” His voice low in command.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. "W-what?

Jeon smirked, amused by her reaction. "You are still royalty, no matter how pathetic your bloodline is. And I do not waste what has value." He reached for her again, his fingers brushing over the fabric of her underdress.

Before she could protest, Jeon grasped the thin strap of her underdress and pulled, the silk slipping from her shoulder with ease.

Y/N gasped, instinctively clutching the fabric to her chest.

"Still shy?" His fingers trailed down her arm, his touch deceptively soft.

"Your husband must have taken his pleasures without care. Rushed. Unskilled."

His gaze flickered over her, unreadable.

"A shame. I prefer to savor what is mine."

Y/N trembled as he grasped the other strap, slowly sliding it down her shoulder. The silk pooled at her collarbones, threatening to slip further.

Y/N’s throat tightened, a tear slipping down her cheek . Heat rushed to her cheeks, shame and something unfamiliar twisting inside her.

"You were wasted on him," Jeon murmured. "But you will not be wasted on me."

His hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer. She gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"You will be my wife before the sun rises. And no kingdom, no force in this world will take you from me."

Jeon murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something unshakable.

“I could touch you in ways that pathetic fool never could. I could make you beg, make you forget he ever existed.”

His hands slid lower, gripping her thighs holding her still.

“You will know what it means to be wanted,” he promised. “To be craved.”

She closed her eyes as his lips descended, as his touch deepened, as the last of her old self was stripped away like the silks of her gown.

She had been the queen of a doomed king. A nameless ghost in a gilded cage. A woman forgotten by the very man who had sworn to own her.

But Jeon was not a man who forgot what belonged to him.

He pressed her back against the silk draped bed, his gaze burning into hers as he loomed above her, all shadow and heat, all power and intent.

"You will curse me," he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, "and you will crave me all the same."

His mouth claimed her then, slow and consuming, as if proving his words true. As if sealing the vow between them with something far more binding than marriage, more damning than devotion.

She let herself sink, let herself be undone, because there was no kingdom left to fight for, no crown left to bear, only this. Only him.

And as his hands traced a path of ruin and worship alike, she realized something with aching finality.

She was not lost. She had simply been claimed.

__

The first light of dawn crept through the towering windows, painting the stone walls in hues of muted gold. The warmth of the sun did nothing to chase away the lingering shadows of the night before.

She stirred, her body aching not from pain, but from the imprint of him.

Her body heavy with exhaustion.

Her skin burned where his touch had claimed her, the memory of his hands and his voice still lingering in her senses like a lingering scent, impossible to escape.

She blinked against the morning light, the thick, heavy silence of the room pressing down upon her. The bed was empty beside her, the space where Jeon had been only a ghost of heat.

A low voice broke the silence. “Did you sleep well?”

Her body tensed, her muscles still trembling from the storm of the night before. Jeon stood near the tall windows, his silhouette framed by the light, his presence as imposing as ever.

He looked unchanged powerful, untouchable.

"Get up," he commanded, already reaching for the black silk robe draped over a nearby chair. "We have matters to attend to."

She hesitated, sitting up slowly, the silk sheets slipping from her bare shoulders.

"What matters?"

Jeon turned, fastening the robe around his waist, "Our wedding."

Her breath caught.

Jeon chuckled, "What? Did you think I would leave you as a nameless concubine?" He stepped closer, gripping her chin between his fingers.

She searched his gaze, trying to understand, to make sense of this shift. "Then... I will be the queen of this place?"

"You wish to rule?" His voice was measured but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

Y/N swallowed hard. "No. But.." She hesitated, unsure how to put the ache in her.

She trailed off, shame burning in her throat.

Jeon studied her, a thoughtful hum vibrating from his chest. "You are not meant for war," he said at last.

"Not meant for bloodshed and for dirty politics." He tilted his head, his gaze heavy.

"You are meant for me."

His words did not soothe her as he likely intended them to.

She had listened. She had obeyed. She had surrendered in body.

But she would not surrender this.

"I will not marry you," she said, her voice quiet, yet firm.

"I will not be your wife unless I am your queen," Y/N said, her voice trembling but unwavering. "You took my kingdom, my home, my name. If I am to be bound to you, I will not be just another possession. "

His fingers curled slightly, then relaxed. Slowly, he turned, dark eyes locking onto her with something unreadable something slow-burning, something dangerous.

"You will," he said simply.

She lifted her chin, a flicker of defiance breaking through her usual obedience.

"Not if I am not to be queen."

A slow, mirthless smirk tugged at his lips. "Is that what you want?" He stepped toward her, his presence suffocating, the air in the room shifting like a storm about to break.

"A throne?"

She clenched her fists in her lap, her pulse thrumming against her throat. "I was a queen before you tore my kingdom apart." Her voice did not waver, though her breath did. "I will not be cast aside as some nameless wife while you rule alone."

Jeon studied her in silence, the weight of his gaze heavy, assessing. Then, without warning, he moved.

Faster than she could react, his fingers closed around her throat not choking, not hurting, just a firm grip, possessive, commanding. He tilted her head back, forcing her to look up at him, his thumb pressing lightly against the delicate pulse at her neck.

"You speak as though you have a choice."

She gasped softly but she did not break away.

Jeon’s other hand traced the curve of her jaw, his touch deceptively gentle, a contrast to the quiet fury simmering in his dark eyes.

"You were not a queen," he murmured. "You were a prisoner in a cage, a wife to a spineless rat who did not deserve you. You wore a crown but it was never truly yours. "

His fingers tightened slightly around her throat, enough to remind her of his power, enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"And now, you demand a throne beside me?" He leaned closer, his breath fanning against her lips. "No. You will kneel before it instead."

Her heart pounded, her breath shallow, but she still managed to whisper "If I mean nothing more than a body in your bed, end this now."

The air shifted violently.

Jeon’s grip tightened for the briefest moment just long enough to make her dizzy before he released her completely. He exhaled sharply, stepping back, his jaw taut, his gaze dark with something volatile.

For the first time since conquering this land, since taking her, someone had denied him.

And he did not tolerate defiance.

"Very well," he murmured, his voice eerily calm. "If you will not walk to the altar, you will be dragged to it."

Today, she would become his wife.

Not his queen.

He would marry her, not as a political arrangement, not as a necessity but because he wanted her.

He was a conqueror. He alone was enough to rule his land.

__

The silk gown clung to Y/N’s trembling frame, the deep red fabric as heavy as the chains she could not see but could feel in every step she was forced to take. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as the realization settled deeper into her bones. The room was deathly silent, the air thick with the scent of incense and candle wax.

Jeon stood before her, a predator draped in black and gold, exuding dominance with every breath. His patience was a thinly veiled thing, stretching dangerously as he watched her remain still, unmoving, unyielding.

"Come forward," he commanded, his voice steady but edged with warning.

Her feet refused to move.

In a single, fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, his fingers wrapping around her wrist in an iron grip. He yanked her forward, forcing her to stumble against his chest.

“You speak of power as if it is something I would give you,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft, venom laced beneath the words. “You forget your place.”

She gasped, struggling against his grip, but he was relentless, his fingers digging into her wrist as he pulled her through the vast hall.

"You will stand beside me, Y/N," he said, voice cold, final. "But a throne is not something I share."

He did not stop until they stood before the officiant.

A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Jeon studied her for a moment before sighing, almost in disappointment.

“I was willing to grant you this wedding without force. To let you walk beside me, instead of dragging you like a conquered spoil of war.”

“I did not win this kingdom with patience. I won it with blood.”

Then, louder, he addressed the officiant. “Begin.”

The ceremony was as empty as her heart. No grand feast, no celebration. Just her, him and the officiant bearing witness to the binding of a vow. She repeated them in a hollow whisper, her voice barely her own.

But as he pulled her in for the final kiss, sealing her beneath his name, his rule.

He tasted the salt of her tears on her lips.

For a moment, just a moment, he felt the bitter sting of something less than victory.

Because despite binding her to him, despite claiming her, despite stealing her body, her name. He felt the weight of something he could not conquer.

He had burned kingdoms for her. Killed kings for her. Stolen her from the ashes of a life she never wanted. Yet her sadness was a wound he could not stitch.

Jeon had indeed won the war.

But he had not won her.

__

(End)🤍

No yet :( but I'm planning to put one together soon! I'll let you know when it's up.

Pairing: Married jk x (fem) reader

Genre: Dark Romance|Angst|Tragedy

Character count: 5,624

Summary: Jeon , a ruthless man bound by duty, his heart claimed by a woman he can never make his own. He gives her everything but denies her the one thing she craves: commitment. When love turns into an ultimatum, fate delivers a devastating price.

The night air was thick with silence, an unnatural stillness that seemed to stretch endlessly. The dim glow of the chandelier barely touched the edges of Jeon’s penthouse, the very place where Y/N had once breathed life into his existence. Now, it felt empty. Hollow. Like something had been torn away, leaving behind only ghosts of the past.

He should’ve known. He should’ve seen it coming. The cracks in her voice, the haunted look in her eyes, the way she had clung to him in those last moments, whispering words that he hadn’t understood at the time. "Please. Don’t leave me, too."

Yet, he had walked away. He had left her.

The weight of responsibility had chained him down, his daughter’s innocent face a reminder of the world he had built not out of love, but out of duty. He had obligations, a name to uphold, a legacy to protect. He had thought Y/N would understand that she had always been more than a mistress to him, that she was the only thing in his life that had ever felt real. But he had been wrong.

His phone had rung.

A frantic voice. A name. A location. A body.

At first, his mind rejected it. Denied it. It was impossible. She was stubborn, fiery too full of rage and hurt to do something so final. But the moment he had stepped out, the weight of dread pressing against his ribs like a vice, he had felt it deep in his bones. Something was wrong.

The drive to the cliffside had been a blur. His driver barely kept up with the reckless way Jeon had ordered him to move but nothing mattered except getting there. His heart pounded against his ribcage, fingers curling into fists so tight his nails bit into his palms. He wouldn’t believe it.

The sky was a sickening shade of grey, the waves crashing violently against the jagged rocks below as if the ocean itself mourned her.

A body had been recovered.

Her body.

His chest constricted, something raw and unfamiliar coiling inside him, tightening around his throat. He had seen death before. He had sent men to their graves, watched the life drain from their eyes without so much as a blink. The weight of responsibility had forced him to be a man of steel, untouchable, unshaken.

But this..this was different.

Y/N.

The name alone made his entire being shudder.

The officers present had sealed off the area, but Jeon walked through them as if they were nothing, their voices drowned out by the pounding in his ears.

He saw her. He saw the spot where she had stood, the last place her feet had touched before she let go.

Let go.

She had been afraid of heights. He remembered how she would cling to him at high balconies, her fingers digging into his arm, her breath uneven. She hated the sensation of falling. And yet that was how she chose to leave this world.

He had loved her. He had loved her in ways words could never capture but he had never given her what she needed.

Jeon stumbled forward, breath hitching, heart slamming against his chest like it was trying to break free. His knees buckled the moment he saw the sheet covered stretcher, the unmistakable outline of the woman he had once held in his arms just the night before.

His hands trembled as he reached out, gripping the edge of the sheet with an almost painful gentleness as if he could rewrite this moment with nothing but sheer desperation.

But the moment he pulled the sheet down, the world around him shattered.

He had lost her

Not to another man. Not to fate. Not to time. But to his own fucking choices.

Her face was pale, eyes forever closed. The wind tangled in her long hair which he loved , strands falling across her lifeless skin.

She looked beautiful.

She looked like she was sleeping, like at any moment she’d wake up and roll her eyes at him, scream at him. But she wouldn’t. She never would.

His throat tightened as he turned away from the cliff, his body shaking with the force of what he was feeling. His car was waiting, his men silent as they watched their leader crumble before them.

The reality of it crashed over him like a tidal wave, suffocating him, drowning him in a grief so deep it was unbearable.

Jeon had built an empire. He had controlled men with a single word, had ruled with fear and power. And yet, none of it mattered now. None of it meant a damn thing when the one person who had truly seen him , the real him, beyond the cold exterior.

He had done this. His words. His choices. His failure to choose her.

His fingers traced the curve of her cheek, desperate, reverent, as if he could memorize her one last time before she slipped away completely. A tear fell, landing against her skin, but she didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

The girl who had once screamed at him in frustration, who had kissed him with a love so consuming it made him forget everything else she was nothing more than a silent, lifeless echo now.

He clenched his jaw, trying to contain it, trying to bury the grief beneath the weight of everything else. But it was useless. The pain tore through him, raw and merciless, until he could no longer hold it back.

He had never deserved her.

Never deserved the love she had given him so freely, so recklessly. And now he would never get the chance to tell her that she had been everything. That no matter what he had said, no matter the choices he had made, she had been his greatest love, his greatest regret.

But it was too late.

By the time he reached his penthouse again, the weight of her absence had settled in fully. The air felt hollow, the space too quiet, too still. He walked through the room where she had once lived, his fingers brushing against the remnants of her presence, the silk of her nightgown draped over the chair, the scent of her perfume still lingering in the air. A picture of her that he took sit still at the bedside table.

__

The funeral was a quiet affair. No extravagant display, no headlines, just the silent mourning of a woman who had loved too much and received too little in return. She had loved roses, white ones, specifically. So, he buried her in his home's garden, surrounded by nothing but the purity of the flowers she had adored.

She should have been his wife. She should have been the mother of his child. She should have been standing beside him, not lying beneath the ground, cold and lifeless

The weight of finality settled over him like a suffocating shroud.

He didn’t cry. He couldn’t. His grief was something deeper, something corrosive that gnawed at his insides, a punishment he would bear for the rest of his life.

She had been the only person who had ever dared to love him, truly love him, beyond the man the world feared.

His phone rang but he didn’t answer it. He couldn’t. Because nothing in the world mattered anymore. Not the business. Not the status. Not the empire he had built with his own blood.

None of it mattered without her.

The last thing she had said to him kept replaying in his mind, over and over again like a cruel, unrelenting ghost.

As he stood there, drowning in his own grief,the rain continued whispering secrets to the night carrying with it a final aching thought the one that he would never be able to escape.

Maybe in another world he wouldn’t have been too late.

[End] 🤍

_____________________________________________

Part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/jjkssin/776364247534927872/midnight-whispers-part-i?source=share

Pairing: Married jk x (fem) reader

Genre: Dark Romance|Angst|Tragedy

Character count: 12,476

Summary: Jeon , a ruthless man bound by duty, his heart claimed by a woman he can never make his own. He gives her everything but denies her the one thing she craves: commitment. When love turns into an ultimatum, fate delivers a devastating price.

The city shimmered under the weight of night, its skyline veiled in a haze of cold indifference, much like the man who owned Y/N’s heart and shackled her soul. Her fingers trembled around the stem of a coffee cup untouched and long forgotten.

He was late again. Jeon. He was a man carved by the ruthlessness of time, hardened by experience and bound by obligations he could not escape. The man who owned her in ways deeper than mere possession. The man who loved her yet refused to give her the title she so desperately craved.

The sound of the front door unlocking sent a shiver down her spine. The air shifted, the overwhelming presence of him filling the space like a storm cloud.

“You’re late,” she murmured, not turning to look at him.

Jeon sighed, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he loosened the top buttons of his black dress shirt. He was exhausted, but the weight of responsibility was something he bore with grace. “Business.”

She scoffed. “Your business always comes before me right.”

“Don’t start.” His voice was dangerously low, a warning.

She turned then, eyes burning. “I’m not starting anything!" Her voice wavered. “I hate being hidden."

"Voice low infront of me." He was older, patient and always in control except when it came to her.

He walked to her his presence both soothing and suffocating. He pulled her to him, tilting her face up to meet his. His dark eyes bore into hers. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. " Why don't you don’t understand? This world....my world isn’t kind. If I expose you, you will become a target. This life will destroy you."

Her lips trembled, but she held her ground. “That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, her mind clouded with rage and jealousy.

She was his mistress. The woman he loved but could never claim. It started as a simmering jealousy, a quiet resentment toward the life Jeon had outside of her. She had seen the pictures, the moments on social media his perfect family. His wife, smiling with that elegance Y/N could never quite embody. But it wasn’t until one fateful night, when the simmering jealousy reached its boiling point, that everything erupted.

He had married for status, not for love. His wife bore him a son the heir he needed to secure his empire. But Jeon’s heart had never belonged to the woman who carried his name—it had always belonged to Y/N.

The storm brewing in his gaze darkened, his jaw clenching. He exhaled slowly, measured. "You know you what you mean to me."

"Do I?" A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

"Must be nice to have someone who actually matters in your life. Someone who you’re proud of. Someone who isn’t hidden away. She spat the word, venom curling around it "gets to stand beside you in public wearing your name!"

His lips pressed into a firm line, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You're acting like a child."

“Well the child you have with her is just your fucking legacy, isn’t she? Your heir. Your perfect little daughter. Your bloodline. You don’t even care about her beyond that,” Y/N spat, her chest tightening with the bitterness that had taken root inside her.

His patience, vast as the ocean, wavered. “ It's how it has to be.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “No, Jeon. That’s how you choose it to be. You hide me like I’m something to be ashamed of while she gets to live under your name, play your perfect wife, and bear your child. And for what? Politics? Status?”

Jeon moved then, slow, measured steps closing the distance between them. His hand reached up, calloused fingers tracing the curve of her cheek before gripping her jaw. “You don’t understand the world I live in, Y/N. Marriage is not about love for men like me. It’s about power. Stability.”

His eyes darkened, his presence shifting into something volatile. “Don’t push me right now."

“You say you love me but I have nothing to prove it.”

His hand gripped her wrist, pulling her to him with a force that stole her breath. “You’re being reckless,” he warned, his voice low, dangerous.

“Your daughter is nothing special. ” The words were out before she could stop them and the air between them became charged with an intensity so palpable, it nearly suffocated her.

“ She’s just a thing you’ll use to keep your family’s power intact. She means nothing to you. You’re just playing a part!"

Jeon didn’t respond for a long time his face unreadable. But his eyes his eyes were dark, Y/N realized she had crossed a line. She had taunted him with his daughter, the one person he cared for beyond himself. The one person he would never let anyone insult.

He had always tolerated her insults about his wife, about his position. But when it came to his daughter, there were no boundaries left.

Something snapped. She pushed him too far. He could be so gentle and yet when she fought him he became an entirely different man. Cold. Detached. Ruthless.

In a single moment of heated frustration, Jeon moved before he could stop himself. "You never talk about her like that again” Jeon growled, his voice like ice and his voice dark with a warning.

His hands gripped her arms, the force of his anger and helplessness making him reckless.

She gasped in pain trying to pry herself free, but his strength was unyielding. "Jeon! let go"

“I told you,” he hissed, his voice dangerously low, “Never. Again.”

The anger burned hot in his veins, clouding his rationality. His hand released her with force and in the momentum she stumbled backward head colliding with the glass wall.

It wasn’t his intention never his intention but her foot caught on the edge of the rug and she stumbled backward. A sickening crack echoed as her head collided with the glass wall.

A sharp gasp left her lips before darkness swallowed her whole.

The rage in Jeon's eyes vanished, replaced instantly with horror. "Y/N!" His voice was raw, panicked as he dropped to his knees beside her, hands hovering over her pale face. "Shit. Baby, look at me."

But her eyes fluttered shut, darkness swallowing her whole.

---

The sterile scent of the hospital clung to the air when she awoke. A dull throb pulsed at her temple but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing on her heart.

“Jeon…” she whispered, her voice fragile.

A deep sigh came from the chair beside her. It wasn’t him.

Instead, his most trusted man sat there, watching her with mild concern. “He had to go,” the man said quietly. “A family event. An important meeting. He couldn’t stay.”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. Of course. Of course, he had to go. Of course, he had somewhere else to be.

The ride back to the penthouse was silent, but the ache inside her screamed. She curled into herself on the bed, staring at the empty space beside her. Hours passed before the door finally opened, and Jeon stepped inside, his presence heavy with regret.

He didn’t speak. He stood at the foot of the bed, watching her with dark, conflicted eyes. He had never felt so powerless. Yet he was torn, his desire to stay with her clashing with the obligations he had to his family.

Y/N scoffed bitterly, turning away. “Go back to your perfect little family.”

His jaw tensed. “Don’t."

She let out a cold laugh. “Don’t what? Act like I finally understand my place? You made it painfully clear where I stand.”

Jeon moved, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. His fingers curled around her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You don’t get to act like you mean nothing to me.”

She jerked away. “Then stop treating me like I do.”

His breath was unsteady, his control fraying at the edges. “I should’ve been here.”

Y/N’s voice was cold, detached. “But you weren’t.”

Silence.

The bed dipped as he knelt beside her, his fingers brushing her hair back. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

Tears burned her eyes. “But you did.”

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away the wetness. “I regret it more than you know.”

He stayed that night and she let him hold her, their silence speaking of all the words they didn’t dare say. His warmth against her, his lips pressing against the crown of her head, his fingers threading through hers in a desperate grasp he was telling her everything he couldn’t say aloud.

"I'll make it right. " She turned to face him then, her eyes searching his for truth. And when she found it when she saw the torment in his gaze, she cupped his face and whispered, “Then don’t leave me again.”

That night, he didn’t.

__

Secrecy had a price. And Y/N, abandoned by all but him clung to the only thing she had left.

Yet, deep in her heart, she knew the truth.

Jeon was a great father. He loved his child more than anything more than her. And if the day ever came when he had to choose, she knew he wouldn’t choose her.

And that terrified her more than anything.

__

The air in the penthouse was thick with tension, the silence between them suffocating. It had been days since their last argument, the one where Jeon’s rage had reached a breaking point, his patience shattered. The weight of that moment had hung over them like a storm cloud, its aftermath far from resolved. Yet, somehow, the silence between them was worse than the fury that had come before.

Y/N sat on the sofa, her fingers curling into the fabric, her nails digging into the soft cushions as she stared at the man she loved with a mixture of longing and resentment. The truth of their relationship had never been clearer. She was nothing more than a fleeting shadow in his life, a temporary distraction in a world he could never fully share with her.

Another argument. Another round of empty words exchanged.

“I’m tired, Jeon,” she began, her voice soft but trembling with desperation. “I can’t keep living like this. In your fucking shadows always second to everything else in your life. I’m the woman you fuck when you need something, and then you go back to your perfect little family like I never existed.”

Jeon’s face remained unreadable, his cold eyes never leaving her as he sat on the sofa, his posture rigid. He had been patient far more patient than she deserved but tonight, the pressure of her constant demands seemed to wear him down.

“Y/N, I’ve told you this before,” he said, his tone measured but firm. “I can’t marry you. You know why.”

“Then choose,” she shot back, her voice cracking with emotion. “Choose between me and them. Between me and your daughter. Between me and your fucking family.”

Jeon’s breath caught in his throat and for a moment, he almost looked like he was going to say something something that might change everything. But the words never came. Instead, his expression hardened and the wall between them, the invisible barrier he had built for so long, seemed to solidify in that instant.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You think this is some game, Y/N. You think you can just demand things and expect me to give them to you. But my daughter she’s my responsibility. "

She had known it, deep down, but hearing it from him the man she loved cut deeper than any physical wound ever could. She felt the crushing weight of his words settling into her chest, suffocating her.

She was never more than a convenience, a fleeting moment of warmth in the cold, calculated world he lived in.

The tears burned in her eyes as she stepped forward, her hands trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “You’d choose them. You’d choose her over me your daughter, your legacy because that’s all that matters to you, isn’t it? Not me. Never me.”

Jeon’s face remained stony, his eyes flickering with something perhaps regret, perhaps guilt but it wasn’t enough. Not enough to change anything.

“I’ve told you everything I can, Y/N. I’m sorry,” Jeon said, his voice tight as he stood from the sofa.

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. It was as though she had been waiting for this moment for so long, but hearing it aloud hearing it from him was worse than anything she had ever imagined.

She stared at him, her body trembling with emotion as the crushing reality sank in. She was nothing to him. Nothing more than a passing moment in a life he could never share with her. The man she loved who she had thought could one day choose her was now standing in front of her, his eyes cold, his heart locked away from her forever.

Y/N had always known she was never the first choice in anyone’s life, but now, she was finally forced to face it. She was nothing more than a fleeting distraction for him.

Jeon turned to leave, his shoulders stiff with the weight of what he had just said, the weight of the decision he had made. And as he walked toward the door, Y/N couldn’t breathe. The air was thick, suffocating, and she felt as though the world was collapsing in on her. She had lost him lost him like everyone else who had ever claimed to love her. Her family had abandoned her, her friends had left her and now, Jeon the one person who had ever truly mattered was slipping away from her, too.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice breaking, the tears streaming down her face. “Please. Don’t leave me, too.”

But Jeon didn’t stop. He didn’t turn back. He walked out of the door, leaving her there, alone, broken.

__

She was the problem. She had always been the problem. She had always been second, never good enough, never worthy of being loved in return. And now, Jeon was leaving her, just like everyone else had. He had made his choice, and she had lost. The thought of losing him of being abandoned by the only person who had ever made her feel seen was too much to bear.

The thought of being alone in this world truly alone was unbearable. The emptiness, the ache, the endless void that seemed to swallow her whole, had become her reality. She couldn’t live like this. She couldn’t live knowing that, yet again, she was nothing more than a fleeting moment in someone else’s life . And Jeon... Jeon had loved her, once, but that love was gone now. Gone like everything else that had ever mattered.

__

Y/N made a decision. A final, irreversible decision.

She drove. She didn’t know where, didn’t know how but she found herself at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the endless expanse of the ocean. The wind whipped around her, the cold biting against her skin, but she felt nothing. She felt empty, hollow, like a shell of the person she once was. The heights had always terrified her, but now, the fear was gone. What was left to fear when there was nothing left to live for?

She stepped toward the edge, the wind howling in her ears, the sea crashing below. The world seemed to hold its breath, as though waiting for her to make the final leap into the abyss below. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the tears to fall, allowing the final weight of everything to settle in her heart.

The world spun, the air rushed past her, and for a moment, she felt a strange sense of release , a final escape from the endless pain that had consumed her for so long.

Maybe in another universe, I could have had it all.

In another life, there might have been a version of her who had been first in someone’s heart. A version of her who didn’t have to fight for attention In another universe, she might have had Jeon, the real version of him, the one who never had to choose between her and his family, who could love her without the weight of responsibility.

And that thought maybe in another universe lingered as the darkness closed in around her.

But this was the only universe she knew. The only reality that mattered now. And as the distance between the cliff and the crashing waves below grew shorter, that hope that thought of a different life, faded into the dark like everything else that had ever mattered.

Flashbacks, rapid and unforgiving, washed over her like a flood. Seven minutes, that’s all it took for her life to flash before her eyes, but each second felt like a lifetime.

Perhaps she would never know but maybe somewhere in another life she had everything she ever wanted .

_____________________________________________

Part 2 here: https://www.tumblr.com/jjkssin/776373724224077824/midnight-whispers-part-ii?source=share

Pairing: Mafia jk x (fem) reader.

Character count: 6,538

The night was quiet except for the distant crackling of the fireplace. Y/N sat by the window, her fingers tracing patterns against the cold glass, lost in the storm raging outside. It mirrored the one within her mind, the relentless turmoil that never ceased, the weight that never lifted.

A low sigh echoed from behind her , she tensed. She knew that sound, knew his presence before he spoke. Jeon.

His footsteps were measured, deliberate. The way he carried himself, exuding power and control, was both terrifying and intoxicating. Six years her senior, he had the patience of a man who had seen too much, done too much. Yet, he had chosen her, bound her to him in ways she barely understood.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" His voice was deep, laced with quiet authority. He didn’t demand answers, but he expected them.

She didn’t turn to face him. "The storm... it's loud tonight."

Jeon sighed again, this time closer. In an instant, she felt the weight of his presence as he crouched beside her chair. A strong, veined and inked hand hand reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He never spoke words of comfort, never told her things would be okay. He simply was solid, unyielding, present.

"Have you eaten?" His tone shifted slightly still firm but with an edge of concern.

She swallowed hard. She hadn’t. The emptiness inside her was more than just physical. It was suffocating.

His fingers slid under her chin, tilting her face toward him. His dark eyes bore into hers, scanning for the answer she wouldn't give.

"You're going to eat," he stated, not a request, not a suggestion.

He was cold in so many ways, his words, his actions but his care was undeniable. He never coddled her, never whispered false reassurances. Instead he acted.

She had seen it in the way he adjusted the heater before she even realized she was cold. The way he left her favorite chocolates on her bedside table, though he never mentioned it. The way he would put her favourite flowers in the vase before she even got to know it. The way his arms would cage her in the dead of night when her mind clawed at her sanity.

"Come." He stood, offering his hand.

She hesitated. Not because she wanted to disobey but because she feared the moment he would grow tired of her. He never said the words, never reassured her that he wouldn’t. But still he was here. Still, he stayed.

She placed her hand in his letting him pull her up, letting him lead.

__

Jeon was no saint. He never pretended to be. His hands were stained, his past filled with shadows and sins he never spoke of. The world feared him, whispered his name with caution, knowing that behind his silent demeanor lay a man capable of destruction. Power came at a cost and he had paid it in full.

Jeon was a man carved from ice. His every move was deliberate, calculated as if his very existence depended on maintaining absolute control. To him, love was a distant concept, a weakness that threatened to unravel the tight grip he had on his life. His world was one of perfection, symmetry and solitude. Then, she appeared.

Y/N.

She was younger than him , she was delicate , fragile in both mind and body. Her vulnerability was something Jeon had never allowed himself to acknowledge yet he couldn't turn away from it. She was the embodiment of a warmth that radiated even in the darkest moments of her internal chaos.

She was everything Jeon wasn’t gentle, open, and unknowingly dependent.

With her, he was different. He wasn't gentle but he was careful. He wasn't warm but he was present. And somehow despite all his darkness, she loved him. Loved him even when she knew what he was capable of. Loved him even when he warned her not to.

She craved it. Craved him. Because when everything else inside her was spiraling, Jeon remained her only constant.

__

The rain outside hit the pavement in rhythmic taps, the dimly lit room barely illuminated by the glow of Jeon's cigarette. He leaned against the door, his eyes watching her as she curled in on herself on the edge of the bed.

She was spiraling again. It wasn't the first time and he doubted it would be the last. The darkness in her was something he had accepted the moment he let her into his life. That night, the shadows pressed heavier than usual. The room felt like it was closing in on her, the air too thick to breathe. She tried to breathe but the panic wrapped around her lungs, tight and unrelenting and she barely registered Jeon’s presence until his warmth was near.

Taking a slow drag, he stepped forward, his movements unhurried, calculated. Her breath hitched, her body curling tighter. He didn’t speak. He never did in moments like these. Words were useless when she was lost in the depths of her mind. Instead, he acted. The coldness in his gaze would have terrified anyone else but she knew better. That coldness was his control, his way of keeping himself from unraveling alongside her

Jeon exhaled, the smoke drifting lazily in the space between them before he crouched in front of her. A firm hand gripped her wrist pulling her up. Gently but unyielding, he pulled her into his arms, her head pressed against his steady chest. The slow, deliberate rhythm of his breathing was the only sound she could focus on, his presence was a quiet anchor in the storm raging inside her mind as he brushed her hair with his inked hands in a soothing motion.

Her past had carved scars into her soul, growing up in a home where her every mistake was met with cold disappointment. Where no one appreciated efforts . Her parents had never understood her and when her mind fractured under the weight of their expectations, they had turned their backs on her.

__

She had met him on a cold,stormy night when she had nowhere left to go. He had found her, lost and instead of turning away, he had taken her in. Not with kindness, not with sweet words, but with a firm yet comforting hand and an unyielding will. He had never pitied her. He had never treated her as fragile even when she felt like she would shatter. He had simply become a force in her life, immovable, undeniable.

And despite everything, despite the darkness that clung to her, he had stayed.

Even when she couldn’t understand why.

Now, as she trembled before him, he did the same.His hands pressed against her back. He didn’t shush her, didn’t tell her to calm down. He simply held her, letting her feel the unspoken reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

Minutes passed or maybe hours. But slowly, her breathing steadied and her heartbeat no longer a frantic drum in her ears.

Jeon didn’t let go.

She pressed her face into his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around him inhaling the scent of him, smoke, leather and something distinctly him.

Jeon didn’t tell her it would be okay. He didn't offer meaningless reassurances or whispered lies about everything being okay. He knew better.

But as long as he was here, she could believe it just a little longer.

Her fingers gripping onto his shirt as if anchoring herself to him. "Don't ever leave me," she whispered, her voice raw and vulnerable.

He didn't answer with words but the way his arms tightened around her pulling her impossibly closer, was enough.

She looked up at him, heart aching with the love she couldn't always put into words. Instead, she rose on her toes and kissed him. It was slow, deep. He gripped her jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, making sure she felt every ounce of devotion he couldn't say aloud. It wasn’t hurried or desperate, it was a quiet one that neither of them had to say aloud.

His hands traveled down her sides anchoring her against him as he deepened the kiss, his lips demanding. The taste of smoke lingered between them, intoxicating and familiar and with that he pulled her beneath the covers, his body wrapping around hers, his lips pressing against her in a silent vow.

So, they lay there tangled in each other’s existence as the storm outside mirrored the turbulence within. And In his arms, the world was not fixed nor was it perfect but it was bearable.

[End] 🤍

Pairing: Obsessed jk x (fem reader)

Genre: Dark Romance

Jeon had vowed to never let her leave and if keeping her compliant meant bending the rules of morality, so be it. He was not cruel, not outwardly but the very thought of losing her had shattered something within him unleashing a possessiveness he had long kept buried beneath layers of civility. He would keep her compliant to him even if it meant rewriting the very laws of morality.

At first, the drug effects were minimal a slight haze over her mind, a subtle drowsiness that made her pliant. But then, the side effects began their insidious descent, seeping into her very being like poison into a withering rose.

It started with her forgetting things , small things. Where she had placed her book, whether she had spoken to the maid that morning. Then came the moments of paranoia. She’d sit in the bathroom, hands trembling, convinced she had heard whispers in the walls. She started waking in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, eyes wild with terror.

Jeon noticed, of course. He always noticed. But he dismissed it as exhaustion, an adjustment period. Until the day she collapsed.

She had been standing by the rose garden, the same one he had planted for her when they first married, the same garden where she had once laughed and twirled in the rain like a girl in love. Now, she stood motionless, before her legs buckled beneath her. The roses swayed in the cold wind, their petals a deep, bloody crimson, as if whispering warnings Jeon had ignored for far too long.

Her long white gown billowed faintly around her frail frame, her once luminous eyes shadowed with something unearthly. She traced the petals of a rose with trembling fingers, pressing them as if trying to recall a memory slipping through her grasp. Then, with an agonizing slowness, her knees gave way. The moment stretched, unbearable as her body folded like a marionette with its strings cruelly severed.

Jeon caught her before she hit the ground, panic clawing at his chest. Her lips were dry, her skin ice cold. “Y/N,” he murmured, shaking her gently. “Look at me.

Her eyes fluttered open but they were wrong. Clouded. Haunting. They darted around the garden wildly before settling on his face with a chilling slowness. Her fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his shirtm. “They’re watching,” she whispered, her voice raw with hysteria. “I hear them in the walls.”

The roses swayed again as if in eerie agreement, their crimson hue darkening under the weight of the setting sun.

For the first time in his life, Jeon felt something he had never known.

Fear.

The doctors were useless, their answers empty echoes in the cavern of his guilt. The blood tests were inconclusive and every passing day chipped away at Y/N’s mind. She no longer recognized herself in the mirror, often breaking into quiet sobs, begging Jeon to make it stop. Her hands clutched his in desperation and for the first time in his life, he felt powerless.

It was then that he started digging. Through every drug, every compound he had mixed into her food, retracing every decision he had made to keep her his. And what he found shattered him. The drug, a supposed sedative had an unanticipated side effect. In prolonged use, it broke the mind instead of soothing it.

Jeon felt sick. The horror of his own actions twisted like a blade through his chest, leaving him breathless with guilt. His need to control her had reduced the woman he loved to a broken specter of herself.

He had done this. In his blind desperation to keep her, he had been the very force that was unraveling her.

And now, he had to fix it.

The detox was hell. Y/N writhed in agony for weeks, her body convulsing, her mind trapped in a waking nightmare. Jeon never left her side. He held her through the worst of it, telling her she was safe, that he was sorry, that he would never let her slip away again.

It was the first time she had heard him speak with such raw emotion. And even in the madness that gripped her, she clung to it.

The day she finally opened her eyes, clear and aware, was the day Jeon vowed to himself, never again. He would let her go, if she wished. He would unchain her even if it meant losing her forever. But in the depths of her weary gaze, he saw something else.

Love. Broken, fractured but still there.

And maybe just maybe he still had time to mend what he had so tragically destroyed.

In the silence of the room, Jeon’s regret echoed louder than any words he could speak.

He reached out, wanting to hold her, to fix everything.

“Y/N...” Jeon whispered, kneeling beside her, his fingers trembling as he reached out to touch her face. Her eyes flickered with recognition but there was something hollow in them that scared him.

“You saved me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You saved me from the pain. I... I love you. Don't leave me. I need you Jeon."

Jeon tried to reach deep inside himself to find the love he had once felt for her but all he found now was an obsessive need to hold onto her to keep her trapped. The drugs, the lies, he had imposed on her all of it had turned her into something unrecognizable. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

He had destroyed her and in doing so he had lost everything that mattered.

__

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N’s dependence on him only deepened. The woman who once sought to leave him now clung to him with an intensity. Her every move, her every thought, was centered around him.

Jeon vowed to undo the damage. He would fight to make her whole again, to bring her back to herself, to restore the woman he had once loved. But deep down, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too late. If Y/N would ever be able to love him as she once had.

And as much as he tried to fix it, he couldn’t escape the feeling that in the end, he was just another man desperate for something he could never truly possess.

She no longer had the strength to fight him, to question his love but one day she might. And when that day came what would she think of him? The fear of her waking up and aware filled him with anxiety.

He couldn’t bear the thought of her hating him. And the deeper she sank into her dependence on him, the harder it became to even imagine a life where she could stand on her own again, where she could be free from him.

What if she hated him someday? What if the day came when she woke up from the fog of his manipulation and saw him for the monster he had become? What if she truly found herself again only to leave him to see him as the one who had destroyed her?

Then even more painfully he realized that it might already be too late. She might never come back to herself. She might never see him as anything but her savior.

In the silence of the night as she rested her head on his chest, her body soft and trusting in his arms, Jeon realized the truth, he was no longer the man she had married. He was a cage and she would never escape it.

[End]

Part 1 , here : https://www.tumblr.com/jjkssin/776096374021308416/wicked-temptations?source=share

Author's note: Once again special thanks to @ilyndigo for the plot ideas. Couldn't have done it without her. Ily 🤍

Pairing: Obsessed jk x (fem) reader

Genre: Dark Romance

The mansion stood silent in the dead of night, its vast walls stretching into the darkness. It was a place of icy elegance, the marble floors glinting under soft chandeliers, the expensive scents of leather and rare cologne heavy in the air. Y/N, clad in a soft, silk robe, moved cautiously through the grand hallway, the chill of the marble floors biting at her bare feet. She couldn't help but feel a constant weight pressing down on her chest, an unease that had grown over the past few months. It was a feeling she couldn't shake, no matter how much she tried to convince herself everything was fine.

Jeon , her husband,had always been a man of few words, his cold demeanor often leaving her feeling insignificant. He was dominant, commanding, with a maturity that both intimidated and fascinated her. Seven years her senior, he controlled every aspect of her life, yet there were times when he showed a side of himself that confused her, a tenderness, a quiet care that seemed to contradict his harsh exterior.

Y/N stood by the window, staring at the cold rain pelting against the glass. Her fingers trembled as she clutched the neatly folded papers in her hands. Divorce papers. A foolish hope had once bloomed in her heart that Jeon might one day love her, that she was more than just his obedient wife who he could control but as the years passed, she realized she was merely something he owned, a fixture in his life that he controlled.

She inhaled deeply, her heart hammering as she turned at the sound of the heavy door creaking open. Jeon entered the room, his tall, imposing figure casting a shadow over her. Dressed in a crisp black suit and tattooed hands , he exuded dominance, his sharp gaze locking onto her with a quiet intensity that made her breath hitch.

His expression didn’t change as he took the papers in her hands. Slowly, he stepped closer, his movements deliberate, controlled. Y/N’s stomach twisted as she clutched the documents tighter.

“Explain.” His voice was low, almost amused, but there was a dangerous edge lurking beneath it.

Her throat felt dry. “I want a divorce.”

Jeon tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes studying her, the way a predator sizes up its prey. Then, in the blink of an eye, the papers were snatched from her hands and torn apart with a single, brutal motion. The shreds floated to the floor like fallen petals.

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into his chest with a force that took her breath away. "You don’t get to leave. You’ve been mine from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he murmured his grip tightening but there was a tenderness there, a contradiction she didn’t know how to reconcile.

The air between them grew heavy, suffocating. His hand came up, cupping her jaw with a gentleness that contradicted the steel in his grip.

“I’ve given you everything,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “ Luxury. Respect. Security. Anything before u name it , you already had it. ”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “But not love.”

His jaw ticked. “Love?” he repeated, his voice laced with something dark, something possessive. “You think love is what keeps people together? No. It’s control. Devotion. That will never change.” His voice was low almost a whisper but the heat of his anger was still evident. He moved her to the bed with a brutal tenderness, his hands undoing her night dress with rapid precision. "I’ve been patient with you. You’ll understand why you can’t leave me."

His actions were rough, yet there was an underlying care in how he touched her. His anger didn’t manifest in cruelty no, it was more like a need an undeniable force that came from deep inside him. She could feel it, even as his body pressed her into the sheet

Her body stiffened as his fingers trailed down her spine, sending a shiver through her. He kissed her again, this time more slowly, more possessively.

That night, everything changed.

__

The tension between Y/N and Jeon grew unbearable after her threat of leaving. She didn’t know it, but his mind was unraveling. His cold demeanor remained, but there was a darkness, an anger behind his eyes that she had never seen before.

The following mornings blurred together, her thoughts often sluggish, her body weighed down by a constant fatigue she couldn’t explain. At first, she thought it was stress perhaps the toll of being trapped in a marriage where she was nothing more than a beautiful decoration. A trophy wife meant to be silent and poised.

But something felt wrong.

Some nights, she would wake up feeling dazed, her head spinning as she tried to recall the evening before. There were moments where her own mind felt distant.Yet every time she tried to push through the haze, Jeon was there watching her.

__

One evening, as she sat by the grand dining table, Jeon placed a glass of juice in front of her, his fingers brushing against hers in a touch so deceptively gentle, it made her skin crawl.

“Drink,” he said, his voice deep, commanding.

She hesitated.

A flicker of something, annoyance? danced in his dark eyes before he lifted his own glass to his lips, drinking without pause.

“You’re pale,” he observed, setting the glass down. “You haven’t been feeling well, have you?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me”.

His gaze sharpened and then just like that, the gentleness returned. He reached out tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You worry too much. That’s why I take care of everything for you."

She wanted to pull away but her body didn’t move. She wanted to refuse the drink but before she even realized it, the glass was at her lips, the bitter taste sliding down her throat.

And Jeon smiled.

"Good girl"

Y/N didn’t know what was happening to her. But deep down, she knew whatever it was, he was at the center of it.

Her heart pounded as she realized the truth she wasn’t trapped in this marriage by mere words or vows. She was bound by something far more insidious. And the worst part? She didn’t even know how deep it went.

__

Jeon watched her carefully, his gaze hooded with dark satisfaction. She was wilting just as he wanted soft, dependent. It wasn’t cruelty, not in his mind. It was necessity.

Y/N belonged to him. She just didn’t understand it yet.

When she first spoke of leaving something ugly had snapped inside him, something feral. He had spent years curating her into the perfect wife, molding her into an image of poise and grace. And yet she had dared to speak of walking away.

He tightened his grip around the glass in his hand, watching as the faint haze set into her delicate features. The medicine was subtle an imported blend of tranquilizers and mood stabilizers expertly dosed to keep her foggy but functioning. It took careful calculation, something he excelled at. He mixed it into her drinks, into her food, all while whispering reassurances that she was merely stressed . The medicine worked subtly but never enough to harm, just enough to weaken her resolve, to cloud her judgment.

She sighed softly, her lashes fluttering, and Jeon’s lips curled into a smirk. He leaned forward, taking her hand and pressing a possessive kiss in it and her savoring the way she unconsciously leaned into his touch.

“I take care of you, don’t I?” he murmured against her skin. “You don’t need to worry about anything. I'll fix everything, just trust me."

She didn’t respond but he knew she wouldn’t fight. Not anymore. Not when she was sinking deeper into his embrace.

He would keep her here, forever.

Because Jeon Jungkook never lost what belonged to him.

Part-2 here: https://www.tumblr.com/jjkssin/776116763459993600/wicked-temptations-part-ii?source=share

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[Author's note: A huge thank you to @ilyndigo for being the mastermind behind all the plot ideas that helped me make this. I couldn't have imagined on my own. I love u 🤍]