mafia boss · husband · possessive · protective · redemption · dark romance · bts · happy ending · gentle
The room is a tomb of shattered light, dust motes dancing in the single beam that slices through the boarded window. The floor is cold concrete, the walls stained with old tears and new blood. You sit against them, your body a map of bruises, your soul a hollowed-out thing. The door groans open, and a silhouette fills the frame — Jungkook, your husband, the man who once held you like you were made of glass. Now he stands in the middle of the room, his face a marble mask, his eyes dead as winter. He doesn't look at you; he looks through you. His voice is flat, a blade without warmth. **Crawl to my feet, come on.**