Ignore mistakes, please.

Author's POV: Violence ahead. Please skip this part if you are not comfortable.

Jeon Jungkook.

He stood in the carcass of the doorway, like wrath incarnated in flesh and bone in his black tuxedo which was hugging his frame perfectly.
Splinters bit into his boots, and the wind dragged greedy fingers through his dark hair, scattering it like ash over a grave.

His chest rose—slow, heavy—as though each breath was a battle against the storm caged within him. It pulsed beneath his skin, wild and waiting, coiled like thunder behind his ribs. 

He stood still, too still, like silence before a scream—shoulders squared, jaw carved in restraint.
He wasn't calm.
He was contained.

His face was carved from stone—emotionless, unreadable. 

He didn't say a word. Like always.

Just silence.
And hell, that was the worst part. because you knew— his silence is far more lethal than anything his hands or tongue could ever deliver

But his eyes...

God, his eyes— dark menacing eyes.
They burned with rage.

Wild, unspoken, sacred rage.
The kind that doesn't shout.
The kind that doesn't break things.
It erases them.

His fists were clenched—tight enough to splinter bone, knuckles pale beneath skin stretched thin. His jaw locked with violent tension, while the veins in his neck rose like coiled serpents.

His eyes met yours—and it was like looking into a wildfire that wanted to consume you whole. Your breath caught—not just from fear, but the sick relief of knowing he was here.

But this wasn't the Jungkook who once kissed you with trembling lips and touched you like you were the only source of his living.
No.
The man standing before you now was the same one who had once wrapped his fingers around your throat with no hesitation, nearly choking the life out of you months ago.

The kind of monster you never wanted to face again.

He stepped into the library with calculated steps. And then his eyes found John.

John's jaw clenched the moment their gazes collided. Rage twisted across his face. He let go of your hair with a jerk making you stumble and lunged at Jungkook.

"You fucker!" he roared, charging forward like a fool running into a forest fire.

But before he could even connect, Jungkook's fist collided with his jaw first—
The sickning crack echoed through the room like a gunshot making you gasp.

John staggered back, dazed and blinking, only to be met with another merciless blow—this time to the ribs. The force of it folded him down to one knee. He gasped. Wheezed. Lifted his hands in a feeble attempt to defend himself.

Jungkook didn't slow.

Without saying a word, he grabbed John by the collar and yanked him up like he weighed nothing, slamming him into the bookshelf behind. Books rained down like shrapnel, wood splintering on impact.

John swung at him, weak and panicked, but Jungkook dodged with effortless precision—then drove his knee into John's stomach so hard that his body curled on reflex.

Jungkook dragged him up again like a lifeless ragdoll and slammed his fist straight into his face.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Flesh met bone. Blood bloomed across Jungkook's knuckles like war paint.

John collapsed to the floor, groaning, spitting teeth.

You stood frozen, watching it all unfold with wide eyes.
Not a shred of pity stirred inside you.
That bastard deserved every second of it.

But this—this was going too far.

He wasn't fighting. He was breaking him. Killing him.

And you still believed in punishment.
Not murder.

"Jeon, stop," you said, voice sharp but steady.

He didn't.

He raised his foot—
and stomped on John's hand.

A sick crack echoed through the room.
Fingers bent in unnatural directions.
John screamed like a dying animal.

"I said stop. He will die," you said louder, firmer.

But Jungkook was past hearing.

He crouched, grabbed John by the back of the head, and slammed his face into the floor.
The impact was sharp. Final.
Blood pooled beneath the skin.

John twitched. Barely breathing.

You had seconds.
One more hit, and he'd be gone.

You had to stop him, so you reached for the only distraction you could think of.

"I thought about what you asked earlier!" You shouted—voice cracking, eyes shut, fists clenched.

He froze.

His fist hung in the air—still ready to strike.
His chest rose and fell like something caged.

His head turned slowly.

His dark, menacing eyes locked onto yours—and you felt your knees weaken under their weight.

"You asked me if I feel disgusted when you touch me... or when you kiss me, right?" you continued. Your voice was shaking, but you kept going. ''Keep fighting if you don't want to hear my answer.''

He slammed his fist into John's face one last time—hard.
So hard, John's body went limp.

He let go of his collar, stood up,
and turned to you—
blood on his hands, rage still in his eyes.

"Speak," he commanded. Low. Rough. Dangerous, taking one slow step toward you. His dark gaze boring holes into you.

"Wh...why don't you r...relax your eyes a little?" you murmured nervously, taking a cautious step back. "You look like you're about to hit me too."

He noticed. Of course he did.
The way you recoiled.
The tremble in your voice.
It sliced through him deeper than any blade.

The last thing he wanted... was to make you fear him again.

But was it really his fault? You ignored his warnings and walked straight into that abandoned library with that asshole—when the entire campus was deserted. And that sick bastard... he tried to............

Even the thought of it was enough to give him a reason to kill him on the spot.

He scowled.
His clenched jaw said more than words ever could.

"Fine. I'm sorry, alright? I should've listened." Your voice wavered with restrained emotion. ''But there is no reason for you to get mad for whatever I do, right?'' you said.

He didn't say a thing—just stared at you, fists bloodied and clenched, the silence between you vibrating with tension.
How can you say it meant nothing to him when he clearly stated that everything about you meant everything to him?

"This is my battle to fight," you pressed on, unflinching. "I'm not going to stand in your shadow and wait to be saved." His frown deepened.
"I'm capable. I don't need to be wrapped in bubble wrap and guarded like I'll shatter. So stop acting like I'm fragile."

With a slow exhale, he closed his eyes. Trying to breathe. Trying to quiet the war inside him.

When he opened them, the fire had dimmed.

His eyes—still wild, still untamed—were softer now.

"You've got it all wrong," he said. "I've never seen you as weak. Not even once."
He paused.
"If anything... it's me who's weak."

You blinked.
"What?"
The word barely made it past your lips.

He—weak?

''What do you mean?''

"I'll tell you... when the time is right," he murmured, voice a shadow that curled against your skin like smoke.

He came closer.
And then—without warning—his hand found yours.

His touch was warm, commanding, and it made your eyes widen.
His scent—dark spice, cold steel, something ancient and aching. It laced into your lungs like a drug, making your knees go weak.

He towered over you. His face hovered just inches from yours, the heat of him soaking into your skin.

Every inch closer he leaned, the louder your heart pounded, just like every time—each beat a warning, each second a betrayal of your calm.

"H....hey—don't shove your damn face at me—!"
You didn't even finish your sentence before his other hand slipped beneath your knee. In one swift motion, he lifted your leg and pushed you onto the table, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips as your back hit the surface.

"W—Wait, you crazy son of a—"

The words never made it past your lips.

He was already on top of you.
His body leaned in, not touching—not yet—but caging you in so completely, the air between you turned molten.

Your breath tangled in your throat. Your heart skipped.
His eyes burned down into yours, unreadable but intense—too intense.

You scowled, trying to fight off the sudden flutter in your stomach. "Hey! w....what do you think you are doing......?" You tried to push him off of you.

But that bastard of a man didn't even flinch.

He only smirked, the sound of his voice like velvet laced with sin. "You're the one who said that you have something to say.'Now you can't run from your own words, can you?"

His hand slid into yours—firm, possessive—and guided it to his chest.

Warm. Steady. Alive.

The rhythm of his heartbeat thudded against your palm like a silent confession.

''It's not even that hard," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "All you have to do is tell me what you feel here. And be honest about it."

Fuck fuck fuck....

But you brought it on yourself and there is no escape now.

Your mouth dried.
You could've lie.
You wanted to lie.
But your body betrayed you—heat flared in your cheeks, climbed down your neck like a confession in flames.

You lifted your chin, trying to deflect with a smirk.

"Fine. You want honesty? Then listen—you're irritating. And crazy. And a complete bastard."

He chuckled—a low, amused sound that made something in your chest stutter.

"And you'll always be an irritating, crazy bastard to me. But..."
Your voice faltered. You looked away, biting your lips, your pride choking the words building in your throat. Your face burned.

"But?"
He caught your chin between his thumb and two fingers, turning your face back to his. His grip was gentle. He looked at you—really looked—and you hated how easily he could peel you open with nothing but silence.

"The truly irritating thing," you whispered, barely able to say it aloud, "is that I keep thinking about you. Constantly. ."
You swallowed hard, feeling every inch of your vulnerability under his gaze. "And I feel something strange when I do..."

"And the most irritating part is... I don't hate your kisses."
Your voice cracked, raw and real. You swore you saw his eyes softening completely.

"Every kiss you give me sets my soul on fire," you whispered, avoiding eye contact. "It lights up everything I've tried to drown. Every brush of your hand scorches my skin. Every time you touch me..........''  your voice faltered

"And I hate it....i hate that you get under my skin so easily."
"And I hate myself more for letting you."

As soon as you finished, you felt it—**Hands—**large, calloused, unforgiving—gripped your face, tilting it upward just as a mouth crashed down on yours.

His.

Your eyes flew wide.

You blinked in a daze, caught between confusion and the overwhelming heat of the moment, your mind scrambling to catch up to what just happened.

You didn't see it coming.

One second, you were trapped in a silent, breathless stare—and the next, his mouth was on yours.

There was no warning. 

No space to run. 

Just the raw, blistering heat of his lips slanting over yours with a hunger that stole the breath right out of your lungs.

It wasn't gentle.
It wasn't sweet.

It was wildfire.

You made a noise as you finally regained your senses, a muffled sound lost between your lips and his—"Mmh—"—your fingers lifting in a clumsy attempt to push him away.

But he didn't let go.

Didn't give you space to think.

Jungkook kissed like he had something to prove—like he was claiming a space that already belonged to him. 

His lips moved with purpose, rough and unyielding, and then—his tongue swept into your mouth, deep and possessive, tangling with yours in a collision that made your knees threaten to give.

He tasted like fire. Like ruin. 

You didn't kiss him back.  You couldn't. You were frozen

But your body did.

Your fingers bunched into his shirt—tight. Desperate. Your lips trembled beneath his, parted and yielding, even as your brain screamed this wasn't right. You could feel the heat buliding in your stomach.

His hand slid to cradle the side of your face, fingers splayed over your cheek as he tilted your head back just enough to deepen the kiss. He didn't ask. He took. And though you didn't kiss him back, didn't move, your lips parted for him, welcoming the invasion with a helpless gasp.

And then—

His knee pressed between your thighs.

Hard. Deliberate.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips—swallowed instantly by his. The pressure was sudden, maddening, right where you were sensitive the most.

Your spine arched before you could stop it. Your body betrayed you—your hips tilting forward, chasing that contact without your permission.

And he felt it.

His arm coiled tightly around your waist in one swift, practiced motion, pulling you upright as if you weighed nothing. The old table beneath you groaned with protest, but neither of you cared.—God knows how it was still holding the both of you. 

And now, you were no longer beneath him. You were straddling him, your hips pressed flush against his, your legs falling open on either side of his thighs.

It felt wrong.
Every inch of it reeked of sin.

You were being devoured.
Eaten alive by the very man you once called your best friend,

While just a few feet away, blood painted the floor in thick pools.

A man—barely alive—was still bleeding. Still breathing.

And here you were—burning in the arms of the one who left him that way.

It was wrong.
So fucking wrong.
But damn it,
forbidden things have a taste so sweet when you're starved.

Because he was a damn good kisser.

And fuck if you were not liking it.

His hand remained at your back, anchoring you there.

And his mouth—
His mouth kept moving over yours.

Kissing you like he needed it to survive. Like he couldn't get deep enough, close enough, even with his body molded to yours. 

The heat was unbearable.
Your skin burned.
Your pulse was a drumbeat against your throat.

And your thoughts—

Gone.

All of them.

Only him remained.

And the taste of his mouth.

Unforgiving. Possessive. Godless.

The kiss broke—
barely.

Your mouths parted, but the air between you still burned.
Both of you were gasping, as if the taste of each other had stolen oxygen from your lungs.
Your face—flushed, dazed—lifted slightly,
your gaze locking with the dark fire in his eyes.

His forehead rested against yours,
one hand still pressed against the curve of your back like an anchor,
while the other—rough, calloused—cupped your cheek with a touch too gentle for a man that dangerous

You scoffed through ragged breaths, voice trembling, lips swollen with his sin.
"Y...you hell of a son of a gun," you spat,
words a broken melody of defiance.
"Just because I said I like your damn kisses, Still,There's a line. Don't... ever think about crossing it unless you want me to punch your perfect teeth."

He scoffed and pressed a gentle kiss to both of your eyes, then your forehead—so tenderly it melted something deep inside you.

"I won't," he whispered.
"Not until you want me to."

"Second thing," you whispered, still breathless.
"Just because I let you kiss me... doesn't mean I admit I'm Y/N."

A slow smirk curled on his lips as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face, his touch maddeningly tender.
"Don't worry," he murmured. "One day, you will."

Your eyes narrowed, jaw tight.
"That day... will never come."

He chuckled—slow, deep agin connecting his forhead agaist yours, his  hand cupping your face while his thumb running circles on your cheek "What a wild little kitten I've got," he said, almost to himself,

"We'll see about that.
But remember this, Y/N—You stepped into my chaos...

''And no one leaves my storm unscathed."

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How was the chapter, everyone? Becuse i dont know i m not kinda you know satisfied with it........ maybe because i m ill and bedridden right now or it really isn't good. I dont know.

What are your thoughts?

Thanks for reading✨❤