WARNINGS ⚠️

1.THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION ! And advised for adult audience.

2.𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁. 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗱𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱.!!!

3.𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁/𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀.!!!

WARNINGS ⚠️

!!IMPORTANT!!

This story is entirely original. Any similarities to other works are coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited and constitutes plagiarism. Respect the author's creativity.

The news traveled swiftly, as it always did within the walls of the Jeon Villa. From the watchful eyes of the guards stationed at every corner to the whispering maids bustling in and out of the hallways, every detail of the Emperor's actions was scrutinized, analyzed, and gossiped about. And today, the undercurrent of murmurs was louder than ever.

"He didn't even take him to his chamber."
The words were whispered by a maid passing through the eastern wing, her voice barely audible over the hum of footsteps.

She leaned closer to her companion, her eyes wide with disbelief. "The Empress was supposed to move in with him. That's how it's always been. Even Jeon Minhae was moved immediately after her wedding."

The other maid frowned, glancing around to ensure no one overheard. "But instead, he..." She lowered her voice further. "...went to Park Jimin's room?"

The first maid nodded, her shock evident. "Yes. Just like that. He walked right into that simple room—like it's nothing! Can you imagine? The Emperor stepping into such a plain space when he has the royal chamber?"

A passing butler overheard and shot them a warning look. "Enough," he snapped quietly. "You know better than to gossip about His Majesty."

But the whispers persisted. In the shadows of the villa, the guards exchanged incredulous glances.

"Why wouldn't he just bring the Empress to his room?" one guard muttered to another, keeping his voice low as they patrolled the corridors.

The other shrugged, his expression a mix of confusion and unease. "The Emperor doesn't explain his decisions. But it's... strange, isn't it? No one expected this. May be because he sees Mr. Park just as his right hand."

Even the kitchen staff wasn't immune to the gossip. As the chefs prepared meals in the villa's grand kitchen, their voices carried beneath the clatter of pots and pans.

"I heard he didn't even let the Empress unpack anything into his chamber."

"Unbelievable," another chef muttered, slicing vegetables with a bit more force than necessary. "Do you think he even considers this a real marriage?"

The Guards' Perspective

Among the guards, there was a growing tension. They were trained to be loyal, to follow orders without question, but the unorthodox nature of the Emperor's actions had unsettled even the most seasoned among them.

One of the senior guards, a man who had served the Jeon family for over two decades, stood near the main entrance with his subordinates. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable as he addressed the younger guards.

"This isn't our place to question," he said firmly, though his tone carried an undercurrent of doubt. "The Emperor's decisions are his alone. But... it's unusual. Even for him."

One of the younger guards hesitated before speaking. "Do you think... he doesn't trust Park Jimin enough to bring him into his chamber?"

The senior guard's gaze sharpened. "Trust has nothing to do with it. Park Jimin is his right hand. If the Emperor didn't trust him, he wouldn't have married him."

"Then why—"

"Enough," the senior guard interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "Focus on your duties."

Rumors of the Consummation

Later that evening, as the villa quieted down and the night settled over Sicily, the gossip took a darker turn. The staff and guards couldn't help but speculate about what was happening behind closed doors.

"He's in Park Jimin's room right now," a maid whispered to her colleague as they tidied one of the guest chambers. "Do you think... they're actually going through with it?"

The other maid hesitated, her hands pausing mid-fold over a silk sheet. "I don't know. But if they are... it's strange, isn't it? For him to do it there, in such a... plain room."

The first maid nodded, her brow furrowed. "It's almost as if... he doesn't want to acknowledge it. Like he's avoiding making it real."

Down in the servants' quarters, a group of younger staff exchanged wide-eyed glances as they discussed the night's events in hushed tones.

"Do you think he even sees Park Jimin as his spouse?"
"Of course not," another staff member replied. "He's the Emperor. This is all about an heir. Nothing more."

"But why didn't Empeor just bring him to his chamber?"

"Maybe... it's because of that old love of his." The voice was barely audible, but it sent a ripple of unease through the group. "You know. The stepbrother."

✨✨✨

A heavy silence fell over them. It was dangerous to even speak of such things, but the thought lingered nonetheless. The city of Sicily was cloaked in a veil of quiet darkness, the moon casting its pale glow over the Jeon Villa. Outside, the world seemed still, but within the walls of Park Jimin's modest room, a storm brewed—a silent tempest of emotions, unspoken words, and shattered hopes.

Jimin sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers gripping the fabric of his pants tightly as he stared at the floor. His mind was a chaotic mess, and for the first time in years, the man who stood as the terrifying right hand of Jeon Jungkook felt completely powerless. The earlier declaration still echoed in his ears:

"Be ready tonight."

The simple command had left no room for argument, no room for negotiation. It was not a request. It was a decree, as absolute as the emperor himself.

The door creaked open, snapping Jimin out of his spiraling thoughts. He looked up, his heart pounding in his chest, only to see Jungkook step inside. The Emperor's presence filled the small room instantly, his figure tall and imposing, his dark gaze cold and unreadable. The room was nothing luxury a cozy room suitable for right hand within this huge palace like villa.

Jungkook's black silk shirt clung to his frame, unbuttoned at the top, revealing a sliver of his toned chest. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, exposing the tattoos that snaked across his skin—a haunting reminder of the violence and power that defined him.

Jimin stood instinctively, his movements rigid as he faced the man who was now his husband in name, yet a stranger in every other way.

Why Here Jimin thought internally.

"Master..." Jimin began hesitantly, his voice low but laced with unease. "Why here?"

Jungkook's gaze swept the room briefly, taking in the modest furniture, the plain walls, and the small window that allowed a sliver of moonlight to spill in. He tilted his head slightly, his expression impassive.

"Does it matter?" he asked coldly.

"It's not... tradition," Jimin replied, his voice faltering slightly.

Jungkook stepped closer, his footsteps eerily silent against the polished floor. "Tradition?" he echoed, his tone mocking. "Since when have I ever cared about tradition?"

Jimin's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. He wanted to argue, to push back, but the weight of Jungkook's presence bore down on him, suffocating and unrelenting.

A Command, Not a Choice

"You're nervous," Jungkook said, his voice low and cutting. He took another step closer, the air between them growing heavier.

"I'm not," Jimin replied quickly, though his trembling fingers betrayed him.

Jungkook's lips curled into a faint smirk, though it held no warmth. "You forget, Park. I know you better than you know yourself. You can lie to others, but not to me."

The words stung, not because they were cruel, but because they were true.

Jimin took a deep breath, his gaze dropping momentarily. "Master..." he began again, his voice quieter now. "I... I don't know if I can do this."

Jungkook's smirk faded, his expression hardening. "You don't have a choice. Neither do I have, let's get it done."

The bluntness of the statement made Jimin flinch, but before he could respond, Jungkook stepped closer, his fingers gripping the hem of Jimin's shirt.

Without a word, Jungkook pulled the shirt off Jimin's body in one swift motion. The other man stiffened, his breath hitching as he stood exposed under Jungkook's intense gaze.

When Jungkook moved to the side, Jimin watched in confusion as the Emperor took the shirt and began tying it into a makeshift restraint, to his hands.

"What are you doing?" Jimin asked, his voice shaky.

Jungkook's gaze flickered to him, cold and unyielding. "I don't want anyone touching me. Not even you. And neither I want to touch you either."

The words cut deeper than Jimin expected, leaving him speechless as Jungkook approached. The Emperor's movements were methodical as he tied Jimin's wrists together, the fabric tight but not painful.

"This is how it will be," Jungkook said, his voice low. "You will do as I say. Nothing more, nothing less."

Jimin swallowed hard, his throat dry as he nodded silently.

Jungkook moved to the small bedside lamp and turned it off, plunging the room into complete darkness. The absence of light only heightened Jimin's senses, every sound, every breath magnified in the quiet. He doesn't even to look at what was happening then how does he expect Jimin to be okay with this?

"Lie down," Jungkook commanded, his voice a soft growl in the shadows.

Jimin obeyed, his movements hesitant as he lay back against the mattress. He felt Jungkook's presence above him, the heat of the Emperor's body despite the cold detachment in his actions.

"Ready yourself," Jungkook said, his tone devoid of emotion.

Jimin's breath hitched, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Master..." he whispered, his voice trembling. "Is it necessary..."

"Do it," Jungkook interrupted, his voice firm.

Jimin braced himself as he felt Jungkook's weight press down on him. The first touch was cold, mechanical, devoid of tenderness or affection.
As Jungkook undressed both of them completely without eating any time. "Try to relax if not it's going to pain you more, you know this." Jungkook said as he coaxed his fingers with gentle amount of lube as he pressed inside the heat. Jimin bit his lip, his bound hands gripping the sheets tightly as Jungkook's movements grew more forceful to make him ready for his length.

And after he felt Jimin relaxed a bit he aligned himself at the entrance. "You need more time? Or should I proceed?" Jungkook asked more like consent ? But it was already forced Jimin was thankful that the emperor wasn't rap*ing him like those horrible arrange marriage stories, like those husband named monsters pounds mercilessly.

"I.... I'm feeling nervous can... can we wait for few more minutes?" Jimin pleads in the darkness not sure if he's been heard. "Take your time." Jungkook said plainly as he sat on the bed. After a while Jiminanages the courage to voice out.

"I think I'm ready...." Jimin simply said in low hushed voice as Jungkook hovers on top of him as he pushed his cock inside the entrance.

The pain was sharp, a searing discomfort that made Jimin gasp. He tried to suppress the sounds, not wanting to give Jungkook the satisfaction of hearing his vulnerability.

Jungkook's rhythm was steady, calculated, and unyielding, each thrust a reminder of his dominance. The Emperor's breathing was even, controlled, as though this act was nothing more than a duty to him—a means to an end.

Jimin, on the other hand, felt his composure slipping. The tears he had been holding back finally spilled over, silent and unnoticed in the darkness.

The room was filled with the sounds of their shared breaths, the creak of the mattress, and the faint rustle of fabric. When Jungkook reached his climax filling him up, it was quick and efficient, his control never faltering even in the heat of the moment.

Jimin felt a wave of relief wash over him as Jungkook pulled away, his presence still looming but no longer suffocating.

For a moment, there was silence—thick and heavy—before Jungkook spoke.

"This is how it will be," he said, his voice cold and final. "No emotions. No expectations. You are my husband, but only in name. Remember that."

The room was still shrouded in darkness, the only sound now the faint rustle of fabric and Jimin's shallow breaths. His wrists ached against the restraint of his shirt, tied tightly by Jungkook's hands, as if the Emperor had bound more than just his limbs—he had shackled his very soul.

The pitch blackness was suffocating, pressing down on Jimin like the weight of a thousand eyes, though he knew no one could see them. This wasn't just a room devoid of light; it was a void, a mirror of the emptiness he felt clawing at his chest.

When Jungkook finally pulled away, the bed creaked, and the faint scent of musk and sweat lingered in the air. Jimin's body trembled, his muscles stiff from the tension, his skin raw where Jungkook's weight had pressed against him.

He heard Jungkook's breathing even out, a sharp contrast to his own erratic gasps. For a moment, he thought the Emperor might say something—perhaps an acknowledgment of what had just happened, or even a dismissal. But there was only silence.

The Symbolism of Darkness; The darkness in the room felt alive, wrapping itself around Jimin like a cruel embrace. He thought of how it mirrored his life now—stripped of light, of choice, of freedom.

Bound as he was, Jimin's fingers dug into the sheets beneath him, his knuckles whitening as he fought to suppress the emotions clawing at his chest. Anger. Humiliation. Sadness. They tangled together in a suffocating knot, threatening to choke him.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, warm against his cold skin, but he didn't dare make a sound. He didn't want to give Jungkook the satisfaction of seeing him break. Yet, the silence spoke volumes, and the faint tremor in his bound hands betrayed him.

From the other side of the bed, Jungkook stood, his movements slow and deliberate. His tall frame loomed in the darkness, a shadow among shadows, and though Jimin couldn't see his expression, he could feel the weight of Jungkook's gaze on him.

For a fleeting moment, there was a shift in the air, something unspoken hanging between them. Jimin wondered if Jungkook had noticed his tears, if the Emperor's cold, unfeeling exterior had cracked even slightly.

But when Jungkook spoke, his voice was as emotionless as ever.

"Untie yourself," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jimin hesitated, his bound hands trembling as he fumbled with the knots.

Jungkook watched him in silence, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as Jimin struggled. His jaw tightened imperceptibly, and for the briefest moment, his gaze flickered—not with concern, but with something close to irritation.

"Stop shaking," Jungkook said coldly. "You're not like this."

The words stung, but Jimin bit his lip and forced himself to steady his hands. Finally, the fabric came loose, and his wrists fell free.

Jimin sat on the edge of the bed, his arms resting limply in his lap. The faint red marks on his wrists stared back at him, a physical reminder of his helplessness.

"I'll leave now," Jungkook said abruptly, turning toward the door.

Something in Jimin snapped. His voice was hoarse but steady as he spoke.

"Is that it?"

Jungkook paused, his hand on the doorknob. He didn't turn around, but the tension in his shoulders was palpable.

"What did you expect?" Jungkook asked quietly, his tone devoid of emotion.

Jimin hesitated, his mind racing. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but he knew it was pointless. Instead, his voice came out as a whisper.

"I expected... nothing. And that's exactly what I got."

Jungkook's grip on the doorknob tightened, his knuckles whitening. For a moment, Jimin thought he might turn around, that he might say something—anything—that would make sense of what had just happened.

But Jungkook didn't move.

As Jungkook stepped into the hallway, the darkness of the room seemed to follow him, clinging to his frame like a second skin. He walked with his usual confident stride, but deep down, an unease gnawed at him—a faint echo of something he refused to name.

The image of Jimin's trembling hands and the faint glimmer of tears on his cheeks lingered in Jungkook's mind, though he pushed it aside with practiced ease. He couldn't afford to feel, not anymore. Not after everything he had lost.

"This is how it has to be," Jungkook thought to himself, his jaw tightening. "There's no room for weakness. Not in me. Not in him."

Yet, as he reached the end of the hallway, he found himself pausing, his hand brushing against the cold marble wall.

He didn't look back. He never looked back.

Left alone in the room, Jimin sat motionless, his gaze fixed on the floor. The tears had stopped, but the ache in his chest remained—a hollow, gnawing pain that refused to be ignored.

He thought of the life he had envisioned for himself—the possibility of love, of warmth, of a future that didn't involve darkness and chains. And now, here he was, bound in every way imaginable to a man who refused to see him as anything more than a means to an end.

Jimin clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Despite the overwhelming sadness, a flicker of defiance sparked within him.

"I won't let this break me," he thought, his jaw setting in determination. "If this is the life I have to live, then I'll live it on my terms."

For the first time since the consummation began, Jimin felt a sliver of control return to him. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind him of who he was—Park Jimin, the right hand of Jeon Jungkook.

And if Jungkook thought he could strip Jimin of his pride and spirit, he was sorely mistaken.

By morning, the whispers had only grown louder, and the air within the Jeon Villa was thick with unspoken questions. To the staff, guards, and even lower-ranking mafia members, the actions of their Emperor were as enigmatic as the man himself.

But one thing was clear: this was no ordinary marriage. And whatever lay ahead for Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin, it would be anything but simple.

To be continued.....

Share your thoughts?

Well to be honest this chapter was quite hard for me to write since I had to portray jungkook forced jimin yet didn't forced himself upon him.

But guys this is forced marriage and it's obvious their first few sex will be like indirect rap* why you guys are commenting that Jungkook did that and all.

His character is like that made by me okay. I'm not justifying rap* in real life. It's just for a fictional story so just enjoy their story