Ignore mistakes, please

Third person p.o.v-

Buttering up you all with a long chapter😂😂. Sorry buns, Exam time, what can i do. Well, I have covered almost two chapters in this one. So enjoy ,i m going to study for my monday's exam. Happy reading❤

The sudden jerking of your body pulled you from the grasp of sleep. Your eyes fluttered open, your mind sluggish and disoriented. The bed beneath you was too soft, too unfamiliar, and the faint melody of birdsong filtering in from outside only heightened your unease.

A slow blink brought clarity to the strange situation—until you noticed it.

An arm was draped heavily over your waist Another rested behind your head, cradling you against something unyielding, something alive. Heat radiated from the solid frame beneath you, and a deep, rhythmic thudding reverberated against your cheek.

Still groggy and disoriented, you instinctively nuzzled closer to the solid warmth. The familiar intoxicating scent of musk and something spicy invaded your senses, drawing a soft, involuntary sigh from your lips.

Blinking rapidly, you gradually became aware of someone's warm breath brushing the crown of your head.

Then reality struck.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage as you tilted your head up, your gaze traveling upward to meet the reality—you were in his arms.

"What the hell?" The words erupted from you, sharp and disbelieving. Instinct flared like a firestorm, your palms pressing against the unyielding wall of muscle that held you captive.

The effort was futile. His arm coiled tighter around your waist, the strength in his grip unrelenting yet disturbingly controlled, as though holding you there was as effortless as breathing.

"Good morning to you too, princess." he murmured with closed eyes, his voice a deep rasp, thick with sleep. His lips brushed against the crown of your head as he spoke, his breath warm and teasing. The vibration of it against your ear sent an uninvited shiver down your spine.

"Are you completely out of your mind?" you hissed, twisting against his unyielding grip. "What the hell are you doing on my bed like some creep? Are you planning to scare me to death before the sun even rises?

"I'm resting. Can't you tell?" he drawled, his voice low and unbothered, not even sparing the effort to open his eyes.

Your jaw tightened as you pressed your palms against his chest, attempting to push him off. "This isn't your room, Jeon. So why are you here?" you hissed, frustration bubbling in your tone

"I needed a good night's sleep." His nonchalance was maddening. "And I found it."

"Found it here?" you shot back, your voice climbing as you renewed your struggle. "In my bed? You're a goddamn lunatic.

His groan was low and guttural, cutting through your protests like a blade. "Stop fighting me," he ordered, his tone deep and low. "You're not going anywhere."

"Like hell I'm not—"

Before you could finish, he shifted his hold, his body pressing against yours with a deliberate force that stole the fight from your limbs. His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, and his voice came as a whisper, intoxicating and unyielding. "Stay."

"No," you bit out, shoving at him again, your frustration mounting.

You squirmed.

He didn't move.

You thrashed.

Still, he didn't move

You pushed with everything you had, and yet his hold remained like iron, immovable and resolute.

''What an arrogant bastard!'' you let out a sigh of deafeat, and he smirked in victory with his closed eyes.

"This is the first decent sleep I've had in years," he murmured, his voice dripping with quiet dominance. "Don't ruin it. Stay right here... just for a little longer." His lips brushed the delicate curve of your ear, leaving behind a feather-light kiss that sent shivers down your spine.

"I'm going to be late for school," you tried to reason with him.

"Don't worry about that," he murmured, nuzzling his head into the curve of your neck.  His warm breath ghosted over your skin, and the soft graze of his lips set your nerves ablaze. Your heart hammered in your chest, wild and erratic. This was unfamiliar—strangely intimate and utterly confusing. You'd never felt like this before.

The way he held you—so close, so firm yet gentle—it made you feel... protected? What was this feeling? You couldn't quite place it.

Tentatively, you tilted your head back, your cheek still pressed against the solid warmth of his chest. Your gaze traveled upward, and the sight of him stole whatever air you had left. His lashes, impossibly long, kissed the curve of his cheeks as his eyes remained shut, the serene expression softening the sharpness of his features.

A nose so perfectly straight it looked like it had been drawn with precision, a jawline cut so cleanly it could have been a weapon. Every angle and contour of his face was a masterpiece. You couldn't deny it—he was breathtakingly handsome. 

Too bad he was a bastard for match.

His nearness is doing funny things to your already unsettled mind, and dear God, he smelled amazing. You could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks. Thank goodness his eyes were closed, or he'd see the crimson flush spreading across your face. You'd rather die twice than let him witness that embarrassment.. 

Trying to get back down to earth, you start chanting a new mantra inyour head: He's a criminal. He's a criminal.

Get yourself together, Y/N, for fuck's sake.

His lips skimmed the delicate curve of your neck once again, the brief contact igniting a fire beneath your skin. The warmth of his breath followed as he moved with agonizing slowness, trailing his mouth toward the sensitive shell of your ear. Your knees wobbled under the weight of his proximity, and before you realized it, your fists clutched the fabric of his T-shirt, holding on like it was the only thing grounding you to the moment.

He paused there, his lips a breath away from your ear. His voice dropped, low and rich. "You're my undoing, princess, And I would gladly unravel a thousand times if it meant keeping you close." he murmured, the husky cadence wrapping around you like velvet.

"Undoing," you thought bitterly, scoffing internally at the irony. The words felt hollow and laughable, coming from the lips of the man who had abandoned you at your lowest. Rage bubbled up, hot and fierce, surging like a storm within you. 

This man—this audacious man—had known about your residence all these years. He had known and yet had never cared enough to check if you were even alive, let alone reach out. And now, he had the gall to act as if you were the most precious person to him in his world.

Your teeth clenched as you tried once again to push him away, but his hold was unyielding.

''Pretty words are just silk veils for empty promises.'' you scoffed ''Funny how some people use grand words to make their intentions sound genuine.'' Your eyes darkened as you spoke ''But words, no matter how sweet, don't mean much when there's no weight behind them.''

Jungkook didn't miss the subtle sarcasm laced in your comment. You could see see his jaw clenching. The soft, deliberate squeeze on your waist was proof he'd caught on. You smirked internally, relishing the small triumph.

Y/N one, Crazy bastard zero.

You watched as he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you, locking onto yours. His expression was unreadable and blank, making it impossible for you to decipher what he was thinking. He simply stared at you, his face impassive, his dark eyes boring into yours. You held his gaze with equal intensity.

He stilled.

You stilled.

The tension between you thickened.

The silent staring contest finally broke when he sighed, closing his eyes briefly. His fingers slid under your chin, gently tilting your head up. Then, in one deliberate motion, he rested his forehead against yours, his demeanor calm and steady.

"Thank you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin, the quiet sincerity in his voice catching you completely off guard.Thank you? What on earth was he thanking you for?

His thumb gently brushed over your cheek, his touch tender. "Thank you for coming back to me. I owe you with my life for that," he whispered, his voice so raw, so sincere, that it made your heart stutter in your chest. You couldn't respond—your mouth was dry, your mind scrambling for something, anything, to say.

After your sarcastic comment earlier, you had expected him to reply with something equally biting or taunting. But this? This was the complete opposite.

He leaned in, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, the warmth of it searing through you. "Freshen up and get ready soon," he added, his tone steady, but with an edge of something almost too soft to grasp. "I am wating for you downstairs." Another kiss—this one lingering just slightly longer—before he pulled away, standing up and leaving the room, leaving you behind in a haze of confusion.

What the hell just happened?

Sitting up on the bed, you swung your legs over the side, your feet brushing against the cool floor. The stillness of the room settled around you as you stood, heading toward the washroom.

Inside, you paused in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at you looked distant, and foreign. You raised a hand to your forehead, fingers brushing the edge of the bandage. Carefully, you began unwrapping it, the fabric peeling away to reveal the healing wound beneath. The edges of the cut had begun to knit together, the swelling reduced to a faint shadow of what it had been.

A quiet sigh escaped you. The wound no longer needed a bandage. This quick healing was possible thanks to the man who had held you in his arms just minutes ago. He had taken care of it with surprising gentleness everytime which you never felt before. That thought twisted your stomach with a strange, unsettling feeling.

Sighing, you pulled open the drawer, revealing a few new toothbrushes neatly placed inside. You took one, and after brushing your teeth and freshening up you stripped off your clothes and stepped into the shower. Warm water flowed over your body, easing the tension in your shoulders and washing away the lingering unease. For a few moments, you let yourself relax under the steady stream.

After drying off, you dressed in casual college attire, applied minimal makeup, and walked toward the door.

But the moment you stepped out of the room, a sharp voice sliced through the silence.

"Well, well, guess you're back to showing your true colors," Soojin said, her tone dripping with mockery.

You sighed in annoyance, turning to find her leaning against the wall outside your room, arms crossed defiantly over her chest. Her eyes burned with pure hatred—a glare you couldn't care less about.

You scoffed, already feeling the irritation prickling under your skin. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

Soojin pushed off the wall, sauntering closer "Why? Struck a nerve? It's been what, a few hours? And you've already got Jungkook wrapped around your finger. Or should I say, in your bed?"

Her words stung, but the smirk on her face made it worse. She knew exactly how to rile you up, and this time was no exception. It infuriated you to the point where you felt your patience snapping. The urge to punch her filthy little face was too much to handle.

Her smirk deepened. "Well, you like to get fucked by every man you fancies. What else can we expect from a slu—"

Before she could finish, your hand shot out, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip. With a swift motion, you twisted her arm behind her back, forcing a pained yelp from her lips.

"You really don't know when to shut up, do you?" you growled, your voice low and dangerous, brimming with anger.

"The fuck...., bitch? LET GO!" she cried, struggling against your hold, but you twisted her wrist a little more, drawing another sharp cry.

"Language, little sissy......... Language," you said, twisting her hand even further, making her cry out. She desperately tapped your hand, pleading for release.

"Complete your sentence and you'll regret it," you said in a menacing voice that left her trembling. "Be thankful I didn't break this filthy hand of yours. Next time, watch your mouth before you speak."

You leaned closer to her ear. "Keep pushing my buttons and you will see the wrost of me. I'm far than nice. Got it?" you growled.

She nodded frantically.

"Words," you retorted raising your brows.

"Y-yes. Now let go, please," she cried out in pain.

You shoved her away, making her stumble and fall on her butt, clutching her hand and sobbing.

"Scram before I lose my patience," you said flatly.

She didn't need to be told twice. Scrambling to her feet, she bolted down the hall without looking back.

"Pathetic," you muttered under your breath before making your way downstairs. A quick breakfast would do wonders for your nerves before heading off to university.

As you descended the stairs, your gaze swept over the guards stationed along the hallway. They stood rigid, their postures unnaturally straight, like lifeless machines programmed to protect. You dismissed them without a second glance, their presence another reminder of the suffocating paranoia that enveloped this house. 

''What kind of man lives a life where he can't even trust the people under his own roof? '' The thought pressed against your chest as you rolled your eyes, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

"Ma'am." The soft voice drew your attention. You turned to see a maid standing at the foot of the staircase, her head bowed respectfully. "Master Jeon is waiting for you in the kitchen. Please, this way," she said, extending her hand. With a slight smile at her, you noded and started to follow her.

As you walked toward the kitchen, your eyes wandered to the surroundings, and you couldn't help but marvel at the mansion's beauty which you didn't notice before. The living room was a breathtaking display of luxury, veiled with an air of danger that exuded power and intimidation in every detail.

The walls are paneled with dark mahogany wood, their polished surfaces gleaming under the dim glow of a crystal chandelier that hangs like a crown in the center of the room.

Plush leather sofas, deep black with intricate gold embroidery, form a semi-circle around a low coffee table made of obsidian glass. The table holds a decanter of vintage whiskey and an assortment of fine cigars.

A grand fireplace dominates one wall, its ornate marble mantle adorned with antique weapons and an ominous crest symbolizing the family's power. Above it, a large, oil-painted portrait of a petite woman carrying a small child was hanging there. 

You narrowed your eyes, focusing on the portrait. It was unusually large, but it appeared as though someone had deliberately cut away the side half of it but theedges were covered greatly so it wasn't looking that odd from the distance. 

Another detail caught your attention—the woman in the portrait. Her complexion was ghostly pale, her lifeless eyes staring blankly ahead as she held a child in her arms. There was no hint of a smile, no warmth in her expression, only an eerie emptiness.

But what truly made you pause were her features. There was something disturbingly familiar about her face. Was she his mom?

But her features were nothing like the woman he had introduced to you as his mother when you were both children.

Pulling your gaze from the portrait, you let your eyes roam the room once more. A subtle scent of leather and expensive cologne lingers in the air. Every piece of decor, from the gilded mirrors to the rare art pieces, whispers of wealth.

''No idea how much innocent blood he must have shed to obtain all this.''

"Ugh," you groaned under your breath, forcing yourself to move forward, away from the thoughts threatening to spiral.

Your glare cut through the living room and toward the kitchen. As you entered, you spotted him standing by the stove, dressed sharply in a suit. He was poking at eggs with a spatula, his cell phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. His voice, low and dangerous, as he barked something in a foreign language into the phone's mouthpiece.

The moment he noticed you in the doorway, his demeanor shifted. He ended the call abruptly, the phone landing on the counter with a muted clatter. Turning to you, a practiced smile tugged at his lips, disarming yet unreadable. "Have a seat, princess" he said, his tone deceptively calm as he gestured toward the grand dining table dominating the room.

You couldn't help but notice how his entire aura shifted in an instant. From cold and menacing to calm and almost inviting. With a heavy sigh, you moved to the table and sat down.

"I didn't know billionaire Jeon could cook," you said, your words laced with dry sarcasm.

"You don't know much about me, sweetheart. Consider this a glimpse." he said, his tone casual as he poked at the eggs with a spatula.

Fresh suit, fresh shave, his hair brushed neatly, falling on sideways—he looked undeniably handsome. The harsh spotlights highlighted all the contrasts in him. That's when you noticed his busted knuckles, something you hadn't caught earlier in the room.

The sharp suit seemed at odds with his battered hands, but you didn't bother asking about it. Whatever had caused those injuries wasn't your business. It wasn't your place, and frankly, you didn't want to know. You were here in the Jeon mansion, following his orders, because you had made a deal with him.

There was no way in the world you wanted to know how he had beaten someone so badly to the point his knuckles busted and the other man's face became unrecognizable. 

Sighing, you pulled out your phone and began scrolling through emails, occasionally stealing glances at him. Each time your eyes met his, you flinched and look away, startled to find him already watching you while casually cooking.

He scoffed, the sound low and amused, as though your nervous, almost childlike reactions were cute to him.

You must be dreaming—or high on some imaginary drug—because the man who had nearly choked you to death a few days ago was now making you breakfast. It didn't feel real.

It really didn't felt real.

His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it, focusing instead on plating breakfast. As he strolled toward you with a loaded plate in hand, he picked up the phone and continued speaking in a foreign language.

The plate clattered softly between your fists as he headed back to the kitchen. Your gaze dropped to it, and your throat tightened. Scrambled eggs, salmon, and sourdough toast—everything you loved.

For a while, you found comfort in autopilot. Fork to eggs, fork to mouth. Chew, swallow, repeat. But when a dark shadow shifted over your plate, you realized it was impossible to remain mechanical when he was standing so close.

Your fork stilled mid-air, and you swallowed. You forced your eyes to climb the sharp front crease of his trousers and meet his blistering stare. It didn't waver, even when he rested his palms on the table and dipped down to steal the egg off your fork.

Christ. 

What the hell was he thinking he was doing?

 Him swiping your breakfast gave you the same gut-wrenching feeling as his kiss onyour lips did. A rough shiver rippled through you, lingering long after Jungkook had sauntered back to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, phone tucked against his ear, occasionally humming in response to the person on the other end. But his focus was entirely on you.

How were you supposed to eat if he kept satring at you like an awkward math problem he was trying to solve with way too much enthusiasm.

You let your fork clatter to the plate, your appetite quickly replaced by unease. Scraping your chair back, you stood, ignoring the sideways glare he shot you. Grabbing your plate, you moved to the sink and started running the hot water to wash it.

Before you could finish, Jungkook came up behind you, caging you in. Heat flared at every point where his suit brushed your skin, and you fought to steady your breathing, focusing instead on the suds fizzing in the basin.

His voice, so close to your ear, made you feverish as he murmured another response into the phone. When he paused to let whoever was on the line speak, he slid his arms through yours and took the plate from you. You could only grip the edge of the counter and watch his large, damaged hands swipe the dish sponge over the plate until it was sparkling clean.

Even on his darkest days, this man was... domesticated. The realization did nothing to ease your discomfort.

The moment he gave you an inch of space, you muttered a quick, "Thank you," and bolted like a racehorse toward the door.

But his hand caught you just above your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh, and he pulled you around to face him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked before ending the call, his tone calm but pointed.

"Anywhere you aren't." 

''To the university. I'm already late—thanks to you," you said, your tone sharp but composed as you avoided his piercing gaze.

"I'm driving you," Jungkook replied, his voice calm, almost bored, as though your protests were a minor inconvenience to his plans.

"You don't have to," you shot back, the words tumbling out too quickly. His brow arched, a silent challenge. You hesitated, scrambling to explain. "I... I mean, I can manage on my own. You must have more important things to do."

Jungkook let out a slow, deliberate scoff, the weight of it filling the air between you. He leaned in, so close you could feel the heat of his breath against your ear. "Nothing," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "is more important than you, little doll. Now stay here. I'll be back in a moment."

Before you could muster a response, his lips brushed yours in a fleeting but deliberate kiss, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He pulled back with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your stunned silence, then turned to retrieve his keys from the other room.

You stood rooted to the spot, your heart pounding so fiercely it felt like it might burst free from your chest. His words, his actions—it was all too much. You needed space. You needed air.

The moment he disappeared from sight, you sprang into action. Your steps were quick but quiet as you dashed from the kitchen to the living room. Snatching up your bag, you bolted for the front door and then the mansion's exit. Not a single guard moved to stop you—whether out of fear or indifference, you didn't care.

You slid into one of the sleek black cars idling in the driveway and turned to the driver, your eyes sharp as daggers. "Take me to the school. Now."

The driver hesitated, glancing nervously at the mansion behind you, but your glare was enough to silence any objections. "Y-Yes, ma'am," he stammered, starting the engine.

As the car pulled away, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. For the first time in hours, you felt a shred of control, however fleeting.

___________

As Jungkook descended the stairs with his belongings in hand, his sharp gaze scanned the room. The frown that tugged at his lips deepened when he realized you were nowhere to be found. It didn't take long for him to piece it together—you'd already left.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he shook his head, a flicker of amusement crossing his otherwise stoic face. "Such a wild kitten I've got," he murmured to himself. His fingers flexed around the keys in his hand as he turned on his heel, ready to follow after you.

But before he could take another step, a delicate hand wrapped around his arm, halting him.

Jungkook's eyes dropped to the offending hand before sliding upward, meeting the gaze of the person daring to stop him. His frown returned, darker this time, as he took in Soojin's presence.

Her lips were painted a vivid red, her short skirt leaving little to the imagination, and her top—a barely-there scrap of fabric—clung to her like a second skin. Her hair, curled to perfection, framed her face as she offered him a smile that was equal parts coy and calculated.

"Oh! Sorry, Mr. Jeon," she said quickly, releasing him with an awkward laugh. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feigning innocence. "I didn't mean to stop you so suddenly. It's just... well, I'm running late for school. I was hoping to go with my sister, but it seems she's already left."

Her hands slid over her bare arms, the movement deliberate, but Jungkook's expression didn't waver. His dark eyes remained fixed on her face, unreadable and utterly detached.

When he raised an eyebrow in silent acknowledgment, she pressed on. "So, I was wondering... if you could drop me off instead? Please?" Her voice was syrupy sweet, her smile soft and practiced, but it did nothing to thaw the coldness in his gaze.

Without saying anything and sparing her another glance, he turned and walked away, his steps purposeful and unhurried.

"J....Jungkook, wait!" she called out, desperation creeping into her voice as she reached for him again.

But he was already gone.

Her face twisted in frustration, her carefully composed mask slipping. With an angry huff, she threw her purse across the room, the sound of it hitting the floor echoing through the space. "Who does he think he is?" she muttered under her breath, stomping her foot like a petulant child.

________________

Stepping out of the car, you didn't waste a second before dashing toward the school's entrance. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, the vibration sharp against your leg.Pulling your phone from your pocket, you frowned at the screen.

Crazy Bastard.

The name blinked back at you like a warning. With a quick swipe, you declined the call and let out a shaky sigh of relief. 

"Finally... some distance," you muttered under your breath, pressing a hand to your chest as if the action could steady your erratic heartbeat.

Without warning, two strong arms snaked around your waist from behind, pulling you against an unfamiliar chest. Your breath hitched as you froze for a split second, then immediately tried to break free.

The grip tightened. Did he follow you here?

But these arms weren't his—they didn't carry the same dominance that made your skin crawl, but the unfamiliarity of the touch sent a new wave of panic through you. You squirmed violently, about to jab your elbow into his ribs, when a low voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Thank God you're alive." The words were drenched in relief, but the voice was foreign. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you, Jin Ae."

"Who the hell are you?" you snapped, twisting in his arms. "Let me go—now."

The grip loosened reluctantly, and the stranger stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. "Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," he said softly, his tone apologetic but not timid.

You spun on your heels, your eyes locking onto the boy who'd just invaded your space. He stood tall, a few inches over you, with a lean yet muscular build. His brown hair fell messily across his forehead, brushing against sharp gray eyes. His jawline was chiseled, the kind of sharpness that belonged on magazine covers, and his white hoodie clung perfectly to his frame, paired with faded jeans that emphasized his athletic figure. A backpack hung casually over one shoulder.

"Do I know you?" you asked coldly, as you glared up at him.

The question seemed to hit him like a blow. His smile faltered, replaced by a look of desperation as he stepped forward. He grabbed your shoulders, his touch firm but desperate, making you flinch. "Don't tell me you forgot me too," he whispered, his voice trembling.

You pulled back sharply, shrugging off his hands with a glare signalling him to stop touching you. "I don't know what you're talking about. And I definitely don't know you."

"Jin Ae, please," he said, his voice breaking slightly as he stepped closer, his gray eyes filled with desperation. "I know you're angry. I know I messed up, and I'm sorry—so sorry. I'll do anything to fix this. But please, don't act like I'm a stranger to you."

Your patience snapped. "Listen, first of all—get your hands off me," you said, shoving him back with all your strength. "Second—who the fuck are you?"

He stumbled slightly but recovered, his wide eyes betraying his shock at your outburst. For a moment, he said nothing, then exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging.

"So, it's true," he murmured, almost to himself. "The rumors were true after all... You really don't remember anything."

He lifted his gaze, his gray eyes locking with yours, and the words that followed made your blood run cold.

"I'm your boyfriend, Jin Ae."

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