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 morning breeze carried a serene stillness that was almost unrecognizable to Jeon Jungkook, the emperor of the underworld. This was not the suffocating weight of boardrooms or the palpable tension of blood-soaked meetings—it was peaceful, unnervingly so. The faint scent of roses mingled with the dew-soaked air, teasing Jungkook's senses as he opened his eyes to a soft golden light filtering through the curtains of Jimin's warm home.

The scene was alien.

Jungkook was used to grandeur—the sprawling palace like Jeon Villa, its towering walls a testament to his reign, the hum of power vibrating through its corridors. But this... this felt unsettlingly calm.

As always, Jungkook woke before anyone else. His sharp gaze drifted to the figure sleeping beside him. Jimin, his right hand, now his husband, lay on his side, his features relaxed but his brows faintly furrowed, as if even sleep couldn't fully erase his burdens.

Jungkook silently swung his legs over the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Jimin. His movements were precise, methodical, the product of years spent mastering control. As he stepped out into the small backyard, his sharp gaze took in the sight before him—a tiny pond surrounded by an array of roses in every shade imaginable, which Jihyun and yoona had showed him.

The contrast was jarring. It was far removed from the chaos and bloodshed of his world. The soft ripples in the pond's surface, the vibrant colors of the flowers—it was too picturesque, too untouched.

Hands in his pockets, Jungkook paced along the edge of the pond, his mind a storm of thoughts he couldn't silence. The night before lingered in his memory: Jimin's quiet apologies, his hesitance, the way he'd curled into himself on the edge of the bed as though afraid to disturb Jungkook's space.

What is it about this place? Jungkook's brows furrowed as he gazed into the clear water.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice the thin film of water on the tiles until his footing gave way. His body tensed, instinctively trying to regain balance, but the inevitability of gravity took hold. This was so unusual for a precise master of movements to witness this.

Before he could brace for impact, a firm grip caught his arm, yanking him back with an effortless strength.

"Master!"

The urgency in Jimin's voice matched the firm hold on Jungkook's arm. Jungkook found himself steadied against Jimin's chest in the arms of his right hand securely, his heart beating just a fraction faster than usual—not from the slip, but from the unexpected touch.

The silence between them was deafening.

Jungkook looked up, his dark eyes locking onto Jimin's. The proximity was uncomfortably close, their breaths mingling in the cool morning air. For once, Jungkook's gaze wasn't cold or calculating. Instead, his large, doe-like eyes were wide with surprise, their usual harshness absent due to the unexpected situation.

Jimin's breath hitched. He had seen those eyes countless times—burning with fury, narrowed in judgment, or glinting with menace. But now? Now they seemed... soft.

Without thinking, Jimin muttered under his breath, "Beautiful..."

The word fell into the space between them, a quiet revelation that neither had been prepared for.

Jungkook stiffened, his sharp features tightening as he processed what he'd just heard.

"Excuse me?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the moment like a blade.

Realizing what he had just said, Jimin's face turned a deep shade of red. He immediately dropped his hands from Jungkook as if they had burned him, taking a step back. "I—I didn't mean—It just slipped out of my mouth—"

Jungkook straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves, his expression unreadable. "Watch your words next time," he said curtly, his voice laced with cold detachment.

Jimin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Jungkook turned on his heel and walked away, his strides purposeful, his broad shoulders radiating tension.

Jimin stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. He replayed the moment in his mind, the slip, the touch, the unguarded look in Jungkook's eyes. What was that?

He didn't have time to linger on the thought as he glanced down at his trembling hands. The emperor of the underworld, the most feared man alive, had let his guard down—if only for a moment—and Jimin had seen a glimpse of something no one else had. Those gorgeous mesmerising huge big eyes like galaxy. It was unlike any Korean features Jungkook really had big eyes unlike Koreans.

Jungkook, meanwhile, stalked back into the house, his jaw clenched as he fought to suppress the strange flutter of emotion in his chest. His footsteps echoed in the quiet halls as he headed for the living room, needing distance from the unexpected encounter.

He paused briefly, his gaze falling on his reflection in the glass doors leading to the backyard.

What had Jimin seen?

Jungkook's fingers brushed against his wrist unconsciously, as though remembering the faint warmth of Jimin's touch. The word echoed in his mind, unbidden: Beautiful.

He scoffed quietly, shaking his head as he turned away. But as he walked further into the house, the thought lingered, an unwelcome presence that refused to be ignored.

In the backyard, Jimin stood by the pool, staring at his faint reflection in the water. He clutched the fabric over his chest as if trying to steady the storm brewing within him.

What have I done?

For the first time in years, Jimin had seen something human in Jeon Jungkook—and it terrified him.

Next day when they go back to the estates.

The morning light broke gently over the sprawling Jeon Villa, its warmth spilling into the training grounds where Jeon Jungkook stood, shirtless, in the midst of an intense workout. Muscles rippling with every precise movement, his body glistened faintly under the sun as he landed one flawless punch after another against the heavy bag. The sheer focus etched onto his face was enough to send chills down anyone's spine; he was a man of purpose, someone who embodied precision and power.

Jimin, seated on the balcony just above the training grounds, had no intention of watching. He had come here to clear his head, sip his morning coffee, and think about the strange turn his life had taken since his marriage to the Emperor of the Underworld. Yet, his eyes kept straying back to Jungkook.

It wasn't just the physicality of the emperor that caught Jimin's attention, though the sight of Jungkook's chiseled form and fluid movements certainly stirred something unfamiliar within him. It was the sheer intensity in his demeanor—the way he moved with lethal grace, the sharpness in his eyes, and the quiet power he exuded even in solitude.

Jimin swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the delicate porcelain cup in his hands. What is wrong with me? he thought, shaking his head slightly. Yet, his gaze refused to leave Jungkook.

Later that day, Jimin found himself standing quietly in the shadows of the vast underground chamber that served as Jungkook's interrogation room. The space was cold and unyielding, much like the man who presided over it. In the center of the room, an enemy of the Jeon Empire hung from chains, beaten and bloodied, but still breathing.

Jungkook stood a few feet away, dressed in a tailored black suit, his expression void of humanity as he surveyed the scene. With a simple flick of his hand, he commanded the torturer to step back.

"Bring me the report," Jungkook said, his voice low and deadly.

The torturer handed him a piece of paper, and Jungkook's eyes scanned it briefly before he strode forward. Without hesitation, he pulled a small blade from his pocket and plunged it cleanly into the man's side neck, eliciting a guttural scream. Jimin flinched ever so slightly from his hidden position, but Jungkook didn't so much as blink.

"You thought you could cheat the Jeons?" Jungkook's voice was as cold as the steel in his hand. He twisted the blade slightly, leaning closer to the man. "Tell me, was the money worth the pain?"

The man stammered, coughing on his own blood as he tried to speak. Jungkook didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he stood back, gesturing for the torturer to continue.

But Jimin noticed something—something no one else might have seen. Despite his ruthless exterior, Jungkook was always calculated. He never caused unnecessary pain, never prolonged suffering for the sake of it. His actions, though monstrous, were efficient. Every decision he made had a purpose, even in matters of violence.

And for some reason, Jimin found himself admiring that about Jungkook. Not the violence itself, but the control. The composure. The precision.

Hours later, Jimin found himself in the massive office where Jungkook conducted his empire's affairs. The space was intimidating, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the city, and the emperor himself seated behind an enormous mahogany desk.

Jimin observed quietly as Jungkook reviewed documents, signed papers, and held calls with powerful figures from across the world. His tone was firm but respectful, his words chosen with care. He negotiated deals worth billions with the same ease as one might order coffee.

One particular moment stood out: an underboss from the Italian syndicate had called, demanding a higher percentage from a joint operation. Jungkook, without raising his voice, had dismantled the man's argument with such skill that the underboss ended the call apologizing profusely.

"You're either with me, or against me," Jungkook had said before hanging up, his tone so calm that it sent shivers down Jimin's spine.

Jimin leaned against the doorframe, watching. How can someone be this ruthless and this composed at the same time?

As the day wore on, Jimin found himself lost in thought. His mind wandered back to the few moments where Jungkook had shown him something other than cold detachment.

The memory of Jungkook handing him his personal phone flashed vividly in his mind. He remembered the hesitation he'd felt before calling Jihyun, and how shocked he'd been when Jungkook had given him the device without a word. That phone, Jimin knew, was something sacred—few people in the world had access to that number.

Then there was the night they consummated their marriage. Jimin had braced himself for something far worse, for the horror stories he'd heard about forced marriages in their world. But Jungkook had been patient. He had tied Jimin's hands but had given him space, spoken with calm authority rather than cruelty, and ensured that the experience, though devoid of love, wasn't traumatic atleast.

And perhaps most telling of all: Jungkook had never disrespected him. Not once in the nine years they had worked together. Jimin had seen Jungkook degrade, humiliate, and destroy others without hesitation, but with him, there had always been an unspoken respect.

Jimin sat on the edge of his bed that evening, staring at his hands. His thoughts were a whirlwind, each one more confusing than the last.

He had spent years despising Jungkook's ruthlessness, fearing his temper, and resenting the cold distance he kept from everyone around him for forcing him into a marriage without his choice. But now...

Why do I feel like this? Jimin thought, his fingers curling into fists. He thought of the way Jungkook's doe eyes had softened for a moment during their accidental encounter near the pond. He thought of the way Jungkook had worn the pearl bracelet Jimin had placed on his wrist without complaint.

Why have I never seen him before with such details and attention?

And then, he thought of the empire Jungkook had built—the precision, the power, the respect he commanded from everyone around him. Jimin's heart twisted painfully.

Is it admiration? Respect? he wondered. Or is it something more?

As Jimin closed his eyes, trying to silence the storm of thoughts in his mind, one realization hit him with startling clarity:

Jeon Jungkook was a man who lived in the shadows, who had become a monster to protect the empire he had built. And yet, beneath that monstrous exterior, there was something else. Something Jimin couldn't quite name, but that drew him in nonetheless.

And for the first time, Jimin found himself wondering: What would it be like to truly understand the man behind the monster?

The quiet hum of the villa settled into the evening, leaving Jimin alone with his thoughts. He sat on the edge of his bed, his hands loosely clasped as he stared at the faint patterns on the wall. The past few days had been a whirlwind—one that left him questioning everything he thought he knew about his husband, Jeon Jungkook.

His mind circled back to earlier moments, memories that seemed trivial at first but now weighed heavily on him. Jimin's lips tugged into a faint, almost bitter smile as he thought of the punishment Jungkook had issued for his outburst.

A black card restriction?

It was so unlike the man he had worked for, the man who had bathed others in blood for lesser offenses. Jimin had expected fury—hellfire raining down on him for daring to speak to the emperor of the underworld in such a disrespectful manner. But instead, Jungkook had imposed a punishment that felt...human.

And then there was Jihyun and Yoona.

Jimin couldn't shake the memory of Jungkook's calm demeanor during the misunderstanding at his brother's house. The way he had accepted their apologies—not as a ruthless king demanding obedience but as a man listening to two younger souls trying their best.

Jungkook hadn't scolded them. He hadn't demanded that they address him properly, even when Yoona had chirped "oppa" with such casual ease that Jimin thought he might faint on the spot.

Instead, Jungkook had engaged with them, giving his personal number—a sacred privilege—and even accepting Yoona's homemade cookies.

Jimin ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling within him. "What the hell are you doing to me, Jungkook?" he muttered under his breath.

He remembered how he had expected Jungkook to unleash his wrath after Jihyun's innocent mistake of calling Yeji "sister-in-law." But Jungkook had handled the situation with grace, even wearing the feminine necklace and bracelet without a word of complaint.

These were not the actions of the cold-hearted devil Jimin had grown to know. And yet, they were. Because Jeon Jungkook was a man of contradictions—brutal yet composed, ruthless yet measured, feared yet respected.

Jimin's chest tightened as he thought of the scene that played out just the night before. For the first time, Jimin had seen Jungkook not as a boss or even as a husband, but as a person.

"What can I do with you, my right hand?" Jungkook's words from the previous night echoed in Jimin's mind.

It wasn't affection—not in the conventional sense. But there was something there, something unspoken. Something that made Jimin's heart clench and his stomach churn with emotions he didn't fully understand.

And when Jungkook had spoken about his punishment, there had been no malice in his tone. No anger. Just a simple command—a card restriction. Jimin couldn't stop the faint laugh again and again that escaped him.

"This man has bathed the empire in blood, yet here I am, standing unscathed."

Jimin's hands clenched in his lap as a soft sigh escaped his lips. "Why?" he asked aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you treat me differently?"

The question haunted him as he moved through the villa the next morning. His usual routine of checking on security measures and handling operations felt oddly...hollow. Jimin's mind was elsewhere, lost in the maze of his conflicting thoughts.

Jimin thought of how Jungkook had never humiliated him—not once in the nine years they had worked together. He had seen Jungkook rip apart others, both figuratively and literally. He had seen the emperor reduce even the most powerful figures to groveling messes.

But with him? With Jimin?

Jungkook's respect had always been unwavering.

Later that day, Jimin found himself once again observing Jungkook from a distance. The emperor was seated at his desk, his sharp gaze scanning through files as he dictated instructions to his secretary.

His presence was as imposing as ever, but there was a quietness to him that Jimin hadn't noticed before. The way Jungkook leaned back in his chair when he thought no one was looking, the faint sigh that escaped him as he rubbed the bridge of his nose—it all painted a picture of a man who carried the weight of an empire on his shoulders.

Jimin's eyes softened as he watched. How does he do it? he wondered. How does he bear the burden of being Jeon Jungkook—the emperor, the devil, the lucifer—day in and day out without faltering?

It was in that moment that Jimin realized something:

Jungkook wasn't just a monster. He was human—a deeply flawed, deeply scarred human who had built walls so high that no one could scale them. And somehow, Jimin found himself wanting to understand him.

That night, as Jimin lay in bed, his thoughts refused to settle. He replayed every interaction he had shared with Jungkook over the years, searching for answers.

His hand brushed against the bracelet Jungkook had worn just days ago—a bracelet Jimin had placed on him, a gesture Jungkook had accepted without protest.

"Why me?" Jimin whispered into the darkness, his voice barely audible. "Why do you treat me differently?"

There was no answer, only the faint rustle of the wind outside the villa. But deep down, Jimin knew he wouldn't stop searching for the truth.

And perhaps, just perhaps, he was beginning to hope that one day, Jungkook might let him in.

It started with the suit.

The moment replayed in Jimin's mind as though it were a scene from someone else's life. He could still feel the weight of Jungkook's suit in his trembling hands, the fabric as pristine and flawless as the man himself.

"Wear this and get back to your job," Jungkook had said, his voice cold yet calm.

Jimin had expected fury—an outburst, a degradation, perhaps even humiliation. But Jungkook had simply handed over his own suit, a gesture so unexpected that it left Jimin reeling.

It wasn't just the practicality of it. It was the fact that Jungkook, the emperor of the underworld, had taken time out of an important business meeting to ensure Jimin's dignity remained intact.

In a world where respect was earned through blood and terror, Jungkook had chosen to shield Jimin without a single word of reproach.

And then there was the incident with the council.

Jimin could still hear Jungkook's venomous voice echoing through the grand chamber, a voice that silenced even the most hardened criminals and struck fear into the hearts of the boldest men.

"Who gave you all the fucking audacity to degrade the right hand of Jeon Empire?" Jungkook's words had been sharp enough to slice through steel.

The memory sent a shiver down Jimin's spine, not because of the danger but because of the meaning behind it.

For nine years, Jimin had been Jungkook's right hand—a shadow, a weapon, an extension of the emperor's will. He had seen Jungkook defend the empire, uphold its rules, and punish those who dared defy him. But this was different.

The act of bathing Jimin in the blood of those who had spoken ill of him wasn't just a declaration of power; it was a statement. A message to the world: Jimin wasn't just the right hand. He was someone Jungkook considered important—important enough to protect at all costs.

Even now, Jimin could feel the weight of the blood-stained shirt as though it were still on him. The crimson red wasn't just a color—it was a symbol.

Jimin is untouchable.

That's what Jungkook had declared to the entire empire. And it wasn't just as a spouse. No, it was something deeper. Something Jimin couldn't quite put into words.

And then there was Taehyung.

Jimin's jaw tightened at the memory of the day Taehyung had crossed a line, daring to disrespect him in front of the others. He had seen the momentary flicker of disbelief in Taehyung's eyes, the smugness that said, What's Jungkook going to do about it?

The answer had come swiftly.

Jungkook's hand had moved faster than anyone could comprehend, the sharp crack of his palm meeting Taehyung's cheek reverberating through the room.

"No one disrespects my right hand and walks away unscathed," Jungkook had said, his voice cold and final.

The sheer force of that moment had silenced everyone. Even Jimin, who had grown used to Jungkook's displays of power, had been stunned.

Taehyung's humiliation wasn't just a punishment—it was a warning. A reminder that Jeon Jimin wasn't to be trifled with.

And Jimin couldn't ignore how deeply that moment had touched him. In a world where power was everything, Jungkook had used his power to protect Jimin, not because he had to but because he chose to.

As Jimin sat alone in his quarters, the weight of it all pressed down on him.

Jungkook's actions weren't those of a man who felt obligated. They were deliberate, calculated, and deeply personal.

Jimin thought back to the intimate night again, they had shared—the way Jungkook had been patient and restrained, a stark contrast to the stories Jimin had heard of forced marriages and ruthless consummations.

Jimin's breath hitched as the realization settled in his chest: Jungkook treats me differently unbelievable from a man who is...... malicious, rancorous and horrendous monster.

He didn't know why. He didn't know if it was respect, duty, or something else entirely. But it was undeniable.

And it was terrifying.

Because the more Jimin thought about it, the more he realized that Jungkook wasn't just a monster. He was a man—a man who had somehow managed to carve a space in Jimin's cold, guarded heart.

Next day

Jimin was just done with a deadly mission against some enemies which was just a flick of finger for the infamous malevolent and deadly right hand. Jimin was done with the day as he was feeding Jungkook's pet which wasn't by any means a normal pet infact it was a huge dreadful Bengal Tiger, and mind you the shadow of the Emperor was petting its head and feeding the wild untamed beast as if it was just a cute little kitten in the lavish Jeon estates gardens.

One thing for sure the three infamous pets these Bengal tiger, an African majestic lion and a pristine black panther were to be found in the emperor's chamber wing. Why these animals ? Answer is simple to torture and feed them the Jeon enemies. Very simple just as you find in every infamous mafia empires, nothing new very common yet very uncommon.

But Jimin was brought out of train of thoughts suddenly by that rich blessing.

"Done with day?" His voice fills Jimin's ears like anything. Blessing his soul but ruining Jimin's sanity out of him day by day.

"You did quite well today, I'm amazed shadow." The emperor's rich Italian accent covering his words. His rosy lips moving, making his piercing shining in the dew of sunset.

The emperor takes the chair as he lite his cigarette, he purses his veiny hands together making them look like a hot sin. As he tries to search his phone from his pants pocket his and then his veins bulge out aggressively making Jimin to subconsciously bite his lip hard and blink himself to remain intact and not to do anything out of his steady, cold and dangerous character.

But this fucking man Jeon Jungkook was making him feeling like a pathetic teenager who just got head over heels for their college crush, indeed awfully pathetic for man as scary as Park Jimin.... Wait now Jeon Jimin. "I couldn't do less then better, master. But I'm flattered."

The Emperor trails his hand, pulling one of the sleeve of his navy blue shirt up, folding it up to his elbows. Exploring the array of black ink in-carved on his arm, brandishing his incessant relentless charisma. Poking his tongue at the side of his cheek a very habit of his husband now, Jimin has observed from nine years never looked so hot before the way it looks today making a sigh to escape from Jimin's lips.

As he rakes his long slender fingers through his dark long hairs, pushing them back, preventing them to fall on his mesmerising eyes. Giving Jimin a glimpse of his forehead. His jawline sharp as he flips his hairs back effortlessly making Jimin to clutch the meat piece he was feeding to the Bengal tiger, who gently grazed its teeth on Jimin's hand to bring him out of his holy sweet trance.

Also, carelessly trembling jimin's body up like covered with frost. The wayJimin's body is betraying him, he give up trying to cope with it. Cause it's worthless trying to, it's already shaking. His face, a blushing havoc.

Jeon Jungkook is magnetic.

Jimin doesn't know whether it's his stone heart toning into teenage heart or his husband's unyielding charisma which is making him this way. But he feel helpless. Questioning himself did he even had rumours of being cold hearted and stone faced infamous Shadow, the scary Right hand of Jeon Empire ever?

The Emperor's manly form stands tall and proud. Head high, both legs apart making his weight evenly distributed. Jimin's boxers feel so tight that it's uncomfortable.

Stop! This fucking shit ! it is nonsense! You're going crazy.

Oh fucking holy devils!  but if it had been that easy to stop.

The only thing, right now, on Jimin's mind is him. He try to clear the fog to remember anything else but he can't when his irresistible husband is sitting just a few feet away. Making his heart beat five times faster.

Jimin questions himself in disbelief I was with him for nine years yet why was I so fucking dumb that I never ever looked at him to admire him. Fuck about him being the Mafia Emperor. Oh Jeon Jungkook the creature you are as if either Gods or Demons had taken their sweet time to relish your body features intricately. Why I never look at those ebony arms before, those toned muscles, broad shoulders, meaty thighs and let me not go down about his face. This man is a walking sin for my sanity. Why did I wasted nine years by not looking at this man before.

So, Jimin does what any teenager with a pathetic crush, caught up in the moment, would have done. He  stared at his husband not his master. And it was final, he was going to draw himself in Jeon Jungkook's enchanting beauty. Devil save him, if he wanted to see if he can escape from this man's charisma. Hell, his grandeur was captivating.

Lost in fantasies. Jimin wish his hands would grip him tightly in that broad toned chest. In a way that Jimin would feel his veins pulsing ogaidnt his skin.

His husband's thighs, oh  Jimin wishes would hold him in place. Not let you him away.

Jungkook's lips kissing him everywhere. Not leaving a damn spot untouched.

He is going to be my fucking husband for the entire life, for fucks sake. Why I was running away ? Well that was close, if time permits I would have knocked some snes into the old Park Jimin, to straight away marry this man.

"It's late. Hand in your reports and wait for me in your bedroom." Jungkook speaks up finally to Jimin. Checking the dial of his watch. It to be a Graff Diamonds Hallucination – $55 Million dollars. (80,21,09,00,000.00 South Korean won) (5,34,83,736.08 Euro) and his other hand adorned with elegant platinum bands on his wrist worth more than a tiny nations GDP.

Topping the list of the word's most expensive watches worth more than a company's income because he is just the richest man alive of the entire underworld. This isn't even expensive for him compared to the other assets he owns under him. (Well that's not my concern guys your author can't even count the zeros 😭)

Oh fuck! Even the other mafia members patrolling are staring! He does have the power to make men gay.

He's just too attractive. I mean look at me since when I was this delusional about any one, to be precisely about a man.

Jungkook feels sweat beads forming on his forehead as Jimin hands the emperor his own kerchief which Jungkook took and wiped it of his forehead.

Now what?

Yeet yourself out.

Jimin turn to look at him. Standing with his expensive phone in his right hand, having kept the report down. Looking at the phone, not concerned about jimin at all. No 'thank you' comes out of his mouth. Jimin frown in sadness, feeling hurt for the ignorance . But he doesn't care.

He does not care about you. He will never love you. He will never see you as his spouse.

Don't make things up. You have never had any chance with  him. For the hundredth time,  Jimin pleads his brain to stop overthinking.

Jimin bow to Emperor . Not knowing if he saw or not and just run out of the place, not like a crazy hooligan but with some sophistication. Don't wanna go around looking mad. The scary and dangerous right hand of Emperor have a huge reputation after all.

Probably for the best that Jimin don't talk to him further.

Jimin walk back to his bedroom which again was in Emperor's wing, the place was special and dignified but it wasn't Jeon Jungkook's bedroom. His shoes scrapping against the pavement as you walk.

Jimin reach the door and roll his eyes but give a dismissive sigh

What would he be doing?

Jimin's cheeks turn pink. Jimin was thinking about his husband, even when he didn't want to. But Jimin did want to ? It's complicated to explain to anyone how his heart soars through the streaky skies, to reach out to Jeon Jungkook. Feeling so new and foreign to such things.

The Emperor's eyes blinked so mesmerisingly, making Jimin fall more. Jimin remember so clearly how his eyelashes looked like dark black charcoal strokes at the pond when he held his husband in his arms for once.

Time runs so unfairly fast. Jimin doesn't know when moments passed by. Is this how people feel when they like someone? Is this what it feels like to be in love? To lose to someone yet feel like you've won the world ?

Jimin doesn't know what it was like to be in love with someone. But he was sure, people in love felt this way. But again No, he wasn't in love, obviously. Jimin is just awfully attracted to him. Love is built with time, effort, understanding, trust, madness. By asking himself these questions, Jimin was just wondering about love, not having thought so smittenly about it till date.

Love: the easiest yet hardest thing to understand. Maybe it's not meant to be understood, just felt. Or is just like different stages of losing oneself into the other person?

Now, Jimin lay awake like a forsaken 'lover'. A lover of things meant to be, the way of nature. The night now felt different, it felt romantic when his gaze outside the window. The ocean seemed less deep than Jeon Jungkook's velvety voice. The galaxies and stars looked less glittering than his husband's mesmerising huge eyes.

Im just admiring a beautiful gorgeous man nothing else, I'm not in love yeah.... That's right and nothing is wrong to admire a priceless ethereal creation, there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. No need to fuck your brain Jeon Jimin!

To be continued......

Show me your emotions and the details guys !?

Did you all like the way described details of Jungkook ?