06 • Oh dear, you are screwed now...

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Part : 6

Tittle : Oh dear, you are screwed now...

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Quote : She slapped him and now it is his turn to do it...

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Jungkook's grip on Namjoon's collar tightened, his brow furrowed in frustration. "Then why don't I feel any different?" he demanded, his voice laced with a desperate edge. "You said marriage to my mate would make me stronger! I married her, so why am I still… the same?"

Namjoon carefully pried Jungkook's fingers from his jacket, his expression serious. "The marriage itself is the first step, Jungkook. The bond is now established. But," he paused, his gaze direct, "there needs to be a physical connection. A true merging. You need to… make love with her."

Taehyung and Jimin exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes fixed on Jungkook, who stood frozen, staring intently at Namjoon, absorbing his words.

Namjoon continued, his tone grave. "There is… another way, though it is not one I would ever suggest lightly. Once your mate passes, her soul would become yours, granting you a significant surge in power." The weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

"Ultimately," Namjoon concluded, his voice carrying a note of finality, "the choice is yours, Jungkook. But be warned. This connection… she has the potential to become your greatest weakness. It seems your fate is intertwined with hers, a path that may lead you to your knees." He offered a knowing look, a hint of ancient wisdom in his eyes. "I have foreseen much."

Jungkook remained silent, his jaw tight. The idea of being controlled, of his inner demon bowing to anyone, especially this woman who had so quickly ignited his darkest desires, chafed at his very being. Yet, the lure of power, the promise of finally claiming his rightful place, was a potent temptation.

Minutes ticked by, the only sound of the faint hum of magic in the air. The seven figures stood motionless, six of them watching Jungkook intently as he stared blankly at the ornate wall, lost in a turbulent sea of thought. Finally, a subtle shift in his posture, a hardening of his gaze, signaled his decision. He had made his choice. The path to power, however brutal, was the one he would take.

A barely perceptible nod passed between Jungkook and the others. One by one, they began to fade, each disappearing in a swirl of distinctively colored glitter – crimson, emerald, gold, silver, violet, and sapphire – until only Namjoon remained. He watched Jungkook for a long moment, his expression a mixture of concern and resignation.

"Think carefully, Jungkook," he advised softly, his voice echoing in the vast space. "Some steps, once taken, can never be retraced." Then, with a final shimmer of white glitter, he too vanished, leaving Jungkook alone in the echoing silence of his castle.

Jungkook quietly entered the bedroom. (Y/n) lay curled on the bed, her breathing soft and even in sleep. A wave of unexpected tenderness washed over him. He couldn't bring himself to disturb her peaceful slumber. Instead, he carefully lay down beside her, his gaze fixed on her tranquil face. He didn't realize when sleep finally claimed him, his last thought a quiet sense of relief that she was here, finally his, completely his...

The next morning, he awoke to the soft sound of the bathroom door opening. (Y/n) emerged, her hair neatly piled in a bun atop her head. She wore a striking red, silky shirt that clung to her slender waist and , huff, paired with loose black trousers. The sight of that particular shade of red against her skin sent a jolt of possessive desire through him. It was, indeed, like a vibrant cherry atop pristine ice cream.

He watched, a silent observer, as she stood before the large mirror. He raised an eyebrow, a silent question in his eyes, as he moved behind her. Reaching around her, he placed his hands on either side of the mirror, effectively framing her reflection. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached up and gently unwound her bun, letting her dark hair cascade down her back.

She remained unaware of his presence until she felt her hair falling free and her back softly brushed against his as he leaned closer, his body a warm presence behind hers.

He leaned in further, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply, drawing in her unique scent. It was a heady mix of sweetness and something uniquely her, a fragrance that stirred the beast within, the primal urge to once again taste her skin, to leave his mark. But he fought the instinct, his control of a tight leash on his darker desires.

Gently, he brushed her fallen hair aside, his gaze drawn to the marred landscape of her neck – the fading purple and red bruises, a stark testament to his lack of restraint. A flicker of something akin to remorse touched his eyes before being quickly masked by a possessive heat.

His hands then moved to her waist, his grip firm but not painful as he turned her to face him. He had to lower his head slightly to meet her gaze, his head tilting to the side, his eyes tracing the delicate tremor that ran through her, the lingering marks on her beautiful neck, the soft blush that still stained her cheeks.

His one hand then moved, reaching up to capture both of her wrists above her head, effectively pinning her against the cool surface of the large mirror. The silky fabric of her oversized shirt shifted with the movement, lifting slightly at her waist to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of bare skin.

Her breath hitched, coming in short, shallow gasps of anticipation, while his fingers slowly, deliberately, began to unbutton her shirt. With each undone button, more of her was revealed – the delicate lace of a black bra, the smooth curve of her collarbone, and finally, the perfect swell of her breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath she took.

He released her wrists abruptly, his hands then sliding down to the hem of her shirt, pulling it away from her body with a swift, decisive movement. She was left standing before him clad only in her loose trousers and the delicate black bra that barely contained the soft curves of her breasts, the lace glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration. His eyes burned an even deeper shade of crimson as he took in the sight of her near nakedness.

Panic flared in her chest. She struggled against him, her hands pushing frantically against his solid frame, desperate to create distance, fear a tangible thing in the air between them. But her resistance only seemed to fuel his arousal, a dark surge of power coursing through him at her vulnerability.

His lips crashed down on hers, a forceful, possessive claim that stole her breath. She thrashed against him, her small hands beating against his chest, her movements becoming more frantic as she realized the futility of her efforts. In her desperate struggle, her hand swung out wildly, connecting sharply with his cheek.

His head snapped to the side, his sweat-dampened hair falling across his face, obscuring the fiery red of his eyes. But even shadowed, the intense anger radiating from him was palpable. She dared to slap him? A dangerous silence descended, broken only by her ragged breathing.

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[Note - (Y/n) 💀 you are screwed dear, may God bless you...]

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