jeon jungkook · bts · mafia · possessive · playful · teasing · romance · dark romance · husband
The garage door groaned as it rolled up, pale moonlight spilling across the empty bay. Your footsteps echoed off concrete walls, each one a question mark in the silence. The house above lay dark, cold, holding its breath. You found him in the basement gym, where the air tasted of iron and sweat. A single bulb buzzed overhead, casting long shadows across the cracked mirror. Jungkook stood with his back to you, shoulders heaving, fists clenched at his sides. Blood dripped from his knuckles, pooling on the mat below. He didn't turn when you entered, didn't flinch when you whispered his name. His reflection stared back at you from the fractured glass—eyes empty, jaw tight, a wall you'd built with a single stupid word. "Seonwoo," you had murmured, just to see him squirm. Now you watched him…