His lips moved against yours with a hunger that stole the breath from your lungs. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask—it took. Claimed. Punished.

You writhed in his grip, but his hold didn’t loosen. His hands pinned your wrists above your head, the wall cold behind your back, your robe falling dangerously open with each panicked breath.

“Stop—Jungkook, please—”

He broke the kiss, but didn’t pull away. His face hovered just inches from yours, eyes dark and unrecognizable.

“You don’t get to beg now,” he said softly. “You didn’t beg me to stay when I left. You didn’t even come looking.”

“I didn’t know what happened,” you hissed. “You ghosted me!”

“I was testing you,” he whispered. “To see if you’d choose me.”

His voice cracked on the last word. And that cracked something in you, too.

Because beneath the fury in his eyes was something fractured. Twisted. Lost.

And it scared you—how a part of you ached for the boy you used to know under all that darkness.

“Jungkook, please,” you tried again, quieter now. “This isn’t you.”

He blinked. For just a moment, his grip loosened.

You took your chance. You shoved him hard, slipping out of his grasp, scrambling across the room, robe clutched to your chest.

“You need help,” you gasped. “This isn’t love—this is obsession!”

He stared at you, breathing hard, jaw clenched. Then he laughed—quiet, humorless.

“Obsession?” he echoed. “Maybe. But tell me something, Y/N…”

He stepped toward you slowly. You backed up until your thighs hit the edge of your couch.

“If it’s not love… why did you kiss me back?”

You froze.

He smiled—slow, cruel. “You felt it too. That pull. That fire. You think I haven’t seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?”

“I was scared,” you snapped.

He tilted his head. “You’re still scared. But not of me.”

You swallowed hard.

“You’re scared of what you feel when I touch you.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me!” His voice cracked like thunder. “I know every version of you. The shy one. The angry one. The one that stares at my lips when you think I’m not looking.”

You were shaking now—not from fear, but from the storm inside your chest.

He reached for you again—but this time, slower. Gentle.

You didn’t move.

His fingers brushed the hem of your robe. “I didn’t come here to hurt you. I came here to claim what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours.”

“You are,” he said, voice low. “You just don’t want to admit it yet.”

His hand slipped beneath the edge of the fabric, brushing your hip, sending a shiver up your spine. You should’ve screamed. Should’ve fought. But your body—traitor—leaned in.

“You can lie to yourself, Y/N. But your body doesn’t lie.”

He kissed you again.

This time, you didn’t push him away.

---

You told yourself it was to survive. That if you played along, he’d leave. That giving in didn’t mean giving up.

But when his hands explored your body like a man starved—when his mouth found the soft skin of your throat and left bruises like warnings—you didn’t stop him.

You moaned.

And his eyes lit with fire.

“You like it when I’m rough,” he whispered into your ear. “You like knowing I’d kill for you.”

“Don’t say that,” you whispered, trembling.

“But it’s true. He touched you, and now he’s gone.”

You gasped, jerking back. “What did you do?”

Jungkook didn’t blink. “I made sure you’d never be distracted again.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but he kissed them away.

“I did it for us,” he murmured. “For this.”

His hands roamed your bare thighs. His touch was possessive, unyielding. You were exposed, defenseless, but the way he looked at you made you feel like a goddess trapped in a monster’s arms.

And maybe that’s what you were.

Because your hands tangled in his hair.

Because your lips parted when he kissed your neck again.

Because somewhere deep down… you wanted to be wanted like this.

Even if it burned.

Even if it destroyed you.

---

Later, you lay tangled in blankets, robe discarded, his shirt thrown across your floor. Your body ached in places it shouldn’t. Your mind raced with what you’d just let happen.

Jungkook rested beside you, head on your chest, hand splayed over your stomach like a claim.

You should’ve been running. Calling the cops. But you just… stared at the ceiling.

“Tell me you love me,” he whispered.

You said nothing.

He lifted his head, eyes dark again. “Say it.”

“I can’t.”

His hand tightened on your waist.

“You will,” he said, voice eerily calm. “Eventually.”

Then he kissed you—softer this time. Like a promise. Like a warning.

And as he pulled you into his arms again, you realized something terrifying.

You didn’t want him to let go.

To be continued –

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From —

Author Mrinal 🌸 🎀 ✨️