INTRODUCTION:

Trope- Marriage of Convenience & Traumatic Past

Characters- Jeon Jungkook x Y/n

Title- She has daddy issues because of her abusive father....So her husband kill him and makes her say Daddy while f*king her on his coffin.

Mood- Dark, Obsessive, Traumatic, Healing, Love

It’s been 2 months since their marriage. It was marriage of convenience between their families. Two mafia rival families that decided to join hands and let the world know their strength by marrying their heir. Since last month the distance between Jungkook and Y/n is reducing. They are coming closer and trusting each other. But…Y/n, something is holding her back. Something she doesn’t trust anyone with and Jungkook IS noticing everything. There were many incidents that led him to suspicion that something is attached to Y/n’s past that she is hiding from everyone, from him and maybe from herself. Past which is eating her alive, slowly but still over powering her happiness.

One night they’re arguing—nothing serious. Just his voice gets a little louder. And she flinches. He stops mid-sentence. Noticed how she was shivering, that was the first time he noticed.

She always leaves the bathroom light on at night. Sleeps facing the door. Sometimes wakes up panting, silently, like she forces herself not to scream.

Every time he asks about her past, she shuts down. Smiles fake. Changes the topic. Tells him "It’s not important."

Even in the summer, she wears long sleeves. He starts noticing she never undresses fully unless the lights are off.

So one night, when they were lying in bed, tangled up, her legs draped over him, moonlight spilling across her bare back. He traced his fingers down her spine like always — worshipping every inch like a damn altar — when he paused. He catches a glimpse of something.

“What’s that?” he asked, voice low.

She stiffened.

“Nothing,” she whispered.

He narrowed his eyes, lips curving downward. “Baby… I don’t like lies.”

“I fell,” she said too quickly.

He rolled her onto her back, straddling her thighs. “When?”

She looked away.

“Don’t f*cking look away from me.”

Her eyes met his. Haunted. Shaking. And that’s when it hit him — it wasn’t just the bruise. It was the way she flinched when he raised his voice in arguments. The way she couldn’t sleep unless she was curled into a corner. The way she panicked when doors slammed.

“Who did it?” he asked, deathly calm.

She didn’t speak. Just closed her eyes. His hands clenched into fists against the sheets. Don’t make me ask again, princess.”

Her voice was a whisper, like ash floating from a fire.

“My father.”

The world went silent for him. Just for a second. Then came the storm. He moved off her, grabbed his shirt, and sat at the edge of bed.

“How long?”

“Since I was a kid.”

He didn’t ask anything else, he didn’t have to because he knew. He knew what must have led her with this trauma and Daddy issue. The way she crave fatherly love, attention and softness. How she look at children spending time with their father.

He leaned to her placing soft kiss on her cheek. Getting up he left the room.

It’s been 2 days since that night and Jungkook has not returned home. It was evening, she was sitting in the garden with her kitten on her lap when she got text from Jungkook.

J: I’m sending a driver, come to me.

She reached to the cemetery where driver stopped the car after 3 hours.

“Madam, we’ve reached.”

“Here? Cemetery?”

She entered the cemetery, climbing the stairs she saw.

The fire flickered behind him, casting jagged shadows across the cemetery wall, licking the bloodstained floor where her father’s body lay—still, lifeless, cold.

She couldn’t move. Her breath was caught somewhere between disbelief and release, heart racing like it didn’t know if it should mourn… or finally rest. He turned slowly. Her husband. Her salvation. And f*ck… he looked glorious.

The dark shirt clung to his chest, soaked in sweat and blood—her father’s blood. His knuckles were split open, skin torn, dripping red. That jaw of his clenched so tight it could cut glass, but those eyes? Oh god, those eyes were locked on her like a storm. Fierce. Protective. Possessive. Feral.

He stepped over the corpse like it was trash. Walking over to her and looking at her attentively.

She blinked. Her lips trembled. “Y-You killed him…”

“I did.” He whispered. He tucked hair behind her ear.

Her lips parted, but no sound came. She shuddered. Tears welled up in her eyes, unspilled grief building inside her chest like a dam about to explode.

He pulled her into a warm tight hug. “Shh…baby, everything is fine now. He is dead.”

He then asked one of his man to put the dead body inside the coffin. Blood still pooling around the coffin.

“You think I’m gonna let him keep living while the woman I love has nightmares because of him?” he said.

She froze. “You… love me?”

He smirked. Dark. Wicked. Certain.

“Baby… I’ve loved you since the first time you looked at me like I wasn’t a monster. Like I’m someone who can be loved.”

Then, he leaned in, kissing her tear-stained cheeks.

His heartbeat, soothing her anxious heart. His soft voice working as a lullaby to calm her down. She could feel that he is there for her. He is here. He is real. She is safe with him.

“You feel that?” he whispered, leaning in, his lips grazing her ear. “That’s me. Your man. Your goddamn shield. Your weapon. I’ll kill every demon from your past with my bare f*cking hands.”

She exhaled shakily, voice breaking. “I hated him.”

“I know.”

“I wished he’d die every night since I was ten.”

“I know, baby. And he is dead now.” He whispered.

She sobbed then, hard and raw, and he didn’t flinch. He tugged her tight against his chest. Let her soak his shirt with years of trauma. Let her cry out every chain that man ever wrapped around her heart.

Minutes passed.

And when the sobs slowed… when her breathing turned ragged and broken…He cupped her face and tilted her head up.

“Now look at me,” he said, voice rough. “I want you to know that you are strong. No one defines you. Not him. Not me. I want you to remember this every time you wake up screaming that there is only one man that can haunt your dreams, your soul, ME. Every time you look in the mirror and feel dirty, just know that YOU ARE MINE. And I don’t hear anything bad about my things.”

Her lashes were wet. Her lips swollen. Her body was shaking, and still, still, her heart was whispering, you’re safe now…

He kissed her forehead first. Soft. Then down to her cheek. Gentle. Then to her lips… and there, he stopped.

“I want you to reclaim yourself right f*cking now, sweetheart,” he said against her mouth. “You want revenge? Say my name while you fall apart on my c*ck.”

Her eyes widened, breath hitching.

“Right here?” she whispered.

He glanced at the corpse behind them. “His blood’s still warm. Let his f*cking ghost hear every sound you make. Let him know who owns you now.”

He lifted her effortlessly and put her on top of the coffin, her legs wrapping around his waist like instinct.

“You’re gonna cry for me again, baby,” he rasped, grinding against her heat. “But this time, it’s not from pain. It’s from knowing you finally f*cking won.”

Her hands clung to his shirt, nails digging into his back. He rolled his hips once, slow and deep, and she gasped—head falling back.

He pulled her hair to expose her neck and bit down, sucking hard.

"You're mine now, say it."

“I’m yours…”

Cupping her boobs over her top, his thumb circling her nipples. Trailing his both hands under her top, his fingers brushing her waist, moving back to bra hook.

He looked at her, “Can I?”

She nodded. And that’s all it took for him to unhook her bra. “That’s like my good girl.”

A dark smirk spread across his face at your submission. He pulls back to unbuckle his belt slowly, pushing her legs apart with his hands. Unzipping his pants, his eyes never leaving hers.

The cold, hard exterior he wears begins to crack slightly as he speaks. “You’re gonna take my cock like the queen you are.” He pushes her skirt up roughly, his fingers digging into her thighs as he positions himself between your legs.

“Kook” she whispers clutching his collar. His breath catches at the sound of your voice saying his name. He presses himself against her, his tip lining against her entrance. “Yes, princess.”

He thrusts into her suddenly, filling her completely as she gasp against him. He grips your hips tightly as he begins to fuck you hard on the coffin. With every thrust, he groans loudly, “Baby…look how good you sound, claiming your power back, while your dad lies down us.” He grips your throat as he pounds into you relentlessly.

He dragged his mouth over her jaw, to her lips, devouring her like she was his final breath. His movements were desperate, aggressive, but every thrust, every touch, was laced with purpose—he was breaking every piece of her fear… and replacing it with himself.

When he entered her, she cried out—sharp, emotional.

His forehead touched hers, chest heaving. “Let it go, baby… cry, scream, shatter. I’ll hold every f*cking piece.”

She did. She came around his cock so hard, clenching around his girth. He groans and bites down on her neck to leave a mark as he comes inside her without protection. His hot cum filling her walls.

She rode wave after wave of release until her voice was hoarse, her tears dried, her body slack.

And when she collapsed in his arms, shaking, spent…

He held her like she was made of gold. Not glass. Not bruises. Not pain. Gold.

He picked her up still inside her as he walked to the wall and sat down with her in his lap, right there on the bloodstained floor. Brushed the hair off her sweaty face. Kissed her eyelids, one by one.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“I love you too.” She smiled. A real smile.

After calming down, he got up and fixed his clothes and then helped her with her clothes.

They were back home.

He had bathed her, dressed her in one of his shirts, and laid her gently in their bed. She was quiet, watching him move around the room—lighting candles, pouring wine, locking every door like her safety depended on his obsession.

He slipped into bed beside her and pulled her into his chest.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispered.

“Anything.”

She was silent.

Then softly… “Do I disgust you?”

He gripped her chin again, tilting her to him. “Say that sh*t again, and I’ll punish your mouth with my tongue until you forget every lie you were fed growing up.”

Her cheeks flushed.

His voice dropped lower, deadly sincere. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met. I’m not ashamed of your pain, baby. I’m honored to be your husband.”

She swallowed. “And… if I break again?”

He leaned in. “Then I’ll f*cking break with you. And we’ll rebuild together.”

He kissed her slow, deep, like he was pouring vows into her soul. “I’ll always protect you. Love you. Destroy anyone who hurts you.”

“I love you.” he kissed her forehead.

“I love you, too.”