.☘︎ ݁˖No More Excuses— ᨳଓ . jeon Jungkook

Three years into an arranged marriage that was supposed to bring two influential families together, the luxury penthouse felt less like a home and more like a soundproof prison. Down the marble corridor, your eighteen-month-old son, Junwoo, was fast asleep in the nursery, blissfully unaware of the silent war waging between his parents.

The tragic irony of your marriage was that you weren't completely distant. You allowed Jungkook to hold your hand for public events, you accepted his hugs in the kitchen, and you let him press sweet, lingering kisses to your lips on the sofa. But the moment his high libido took over, the moment his intense physical drive demanded real sex and actual physical release, the wall went up.

Ever since that chaotic night when his self-control slipped—the single night of forced intimacy that resulted in Junwoo's conception—Jungkook was haunted by guilt. Terrified of ever being that monster in your eyes again, he swore he would never force you. But his high sex drive didn't just disappear. For months, after you fell asleep, he was forced to retreat to the master bathroom in the middle of the night, locking the door and using his own hand to quiet his raging body in humiliating isolation. That nightly routine of secret self-pleasure, paired with your constant refusal to let him finish, had gradually turned his desire into a cold, bitter resentment.

Tonight, the months of walking on eggshells finally exploded into a fierce argument in the master bedroom.

"Every single time!" Jungkook bit out, his voice a low, gravelly rasp as he stood near the foot of the bed, his chest heaving beneath his crisp dress shirt. "You'll hold my hand for the cameras, you'll kiss me goodnight, but the second I want to actually make love to you—the second I want physical release with my wife—you turn into an iceberg!"

"Jungkook, please—"

"Don't 'Jungkook' me!" he snapped, closing the distance between you in two sharp strides. His high drive, suppressed for weeks under cold showers and secret trips to the bathroom, flared into a sudden, blinding fever. He caught your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Before you could offer another quiet defense, his lips crashed down on yours.

The kiss was heavy, frantic, and laced with months of starved desire. A low groan rumbled in his throat as his large hand cupped the back of your neck, slanting his mouth deeper over yours. In a flurry of desperate heat, Jungkook ripped his dress shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his fingers hooked into the straps of your silk nightie, dragging it down until you were bare underneath him.

He dropped his head, his warm, wet mouth wrapping hungrily around your nipple, laving and pulling at the peak until a soft breath hitched in your throat. He pressed you back against the mattress, his skin burning against yours as he kissed up your neck, dark eyes blazing with unadulterated lust.

God, he was drowning in you. Reaching down to the waist of his pants to pull them lower, his fingers hooked into the metal notch of his leather belt. The sharp, metallic clink of the buckle echoed in the quiet room.

The sound shattered the spell.

Before he could pull the strap from the loops, pull down his pants, and finally get the physical release he craved, your hands slammed against his chest. You recoiled sharply, twisting out from beneath his weight. Scrambling off the edge of the bed, you grabbed your fallen gown, hurriedly pulling it back over your bare chest and tying the robe tightly around your waist.

"I can't... I'm just too tired tonight, Jungkook," you muttered, refusing to look him in the eye. "It's been a long day with Junwoo. Let's just go to sleep. It's enough."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jungkook stayed motionless on the edge of the bed, his torso bare, his skin flushed red, hands still hovering near his unbuckled waist. The sudden shift from burning heat to ice-cold rejection hit him like a physical blow. The shame flared hot in his veins—the exact same humiliation he felt every night when he had to handle himself in the bathroom while you slept inches away.

Slowly, his hands dropped from his waist. He stood up, his tall frame looming over you, his face twisting into a cold mask of absolute disgust.

"You're tired," Jungkook repeated, his voice dropping into a deadly register. He let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "You let me strip you bare, you let me put my mouth on you, and the second I try to actually take off my pants and get my release with you, you pull the plug and tell me you're tired?"

He took a slow, menacing step toward you, his dark eyes burning with intense, bitter fury.

"I have spent all this time walking on eggshells because I was terrified of being the monster who forced you on that chaotic night when my self-control slipped! I've spent months locking myself in that damn bathroom, taking care of my own body like a pathetic teenager because my own wife refuses to let me finish in bed!"

Jungkook paused inches away from you, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched sharply in his cheek.

"I am done," he hissed, his voice trembling with resentment. "If you're so exhausted of actually having sex with me, then get out and go sleep in the guest room. Because if I have to touch myself in that bathroom one more night while you lie in my bed making excuses, I swear to God I'm calling the lawyers in the morning."