# chapter 6

📖 ROOM 9
Chapter 6: Jealousy Wears Red Lipstick
5000 words | 6 words per line | Author POV

---
The whispers started before sunset fell.
A new guest in Room Nine.
A woman in red. Con dent. Dangerous.
She wore heels that echoed sharp.
A dress that clung like temptation.
And eyes that immediately sought Jungkook.
Her name was Yuna. Heir. Flirt.
Daughter of investors. Crowned in irtation.
And she was nothing like Taehyung.

---
Taehyung heard the laughter rst. Loud.
From the upper balcony—Jungkook’s reserved space.
He paused mid-step, drink in hand.
And looked up… saw them both.
Yuna leaned into Jungkook’s side smoothly.
Lips red. Fingers touching his sleeve.
Jungkook didn’t move. Didn’t smile much.
But he let her stay close.
Taehyung felt it like a punch.
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Jimin appeared beside him, voice low.
“She’s new. You okay, sweetheart?”
Taehyung nodded. Lied. Kept watching anyway.
“She’s just business,” Jimin muttered again.
But Taehyung wasn’t listening anymore. Frozen.
Eyes locked on something not his.

---
That night, he danced like re.
Fast. Sharp. Like trying to forget.
He spun. Dropped. Arched. Gasped. Twirled again.
His hair stuck to his damp skin.
Every move screamed: Look at me.
Every step begged: Remember my body.
And Jungkook watched. Of course he did.
From above. From behind Yuna’s shoulder.
His jaw clenched with every hip roll.
His eyes darkened when Taehyung moaned.
Yuna leaned over. “He’s... fascinating, huh?”
Jungkook’s voice was ice cold sharp.
“Don’t talk while he’s performing.”
“Oh? Sensitive about the pretty one?”
Jungkook didn’t answer. But she smiled.

---
Later that night, in the hallway—
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Taehyung stood by his dressing door.
Yuna passed by, heels clicking con dently.
She stopped. Smiled. “You’re the dancer.”
Taehyung nodded. Kept his voice calm.
“You’re the crown,” he said blankly.
Yuna smirked. “Funny. Jeon said that too.”
Taehyung froze, heart twisting deep inside.
“You’re his favorite, aren’t you?”
Taehyung replied, “Was.” Then shut his door.
But he collapsed inside. Breathing shallow.

---
Jungkook found him there hours later.
Alone. Room dark. Lights barely glowing.
Taehyung didn’t turn as door opened.
“I don’t want visitors,” he said.
“You're shaking,” Jungkook whispered quietly behind.
“I said go,” Taehyung muttered atly.
Jungkook stepped in anyway. Closed door softly.
“I didn’t invite her for attention.”
“Then why let her touch you?”
Jungkook paused. “She’s a test. That’s all.”
“A test?” Taehyung laughed. Bitter. Hollow.
“You test her with my silence?”
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“She wanted power. I wanted answers.”
Taehyung stood. Face pale. Eyes glinting.
“And what answer did my body give?”
“That you still love me,” Jungkook said.
Taehyung inched, stepping back instantly. “Don’t.”
“I do,” Jungkook said gently again.
“You love me. You want me.”
“Then why are you making me jealous?”
Jungkook looked pained. “Because I want proof.
That you ache as much too.”
Taehyung’s lips trembled. “I ache every breath.”

---
They didn’t kiss. Not this night.
But they stood chest to chest.
Breathing. Looking. Wanting. Without touching once.
And that hurt even more deeply.

---
Yuna stood near the curtain entrance.
She watched them. Heard the silence.
And knew exactly what she’d seen.
“That dancer will ruin you, Jeon.”
Jungkook answered, “He already did. Beautifully.”

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# chapter 4
📖 ROOM 9
Chapter 4: Velvet Heat Behind the Mirror
5000 words | 6 words per line | Author POV

---
Room 9 never opened that night.
The lights stayed low. The curtains drawn.
But the mirrors saw everything inside.
Taehyung stood inside the private room.
Velvet walls. Tall mirrors. No escape.
A place made only for secrets.
He wore black again. Bare shoulders.
Lips tinted wine. Eyes unreadable.
And across the oor, Jungkook waited.
Hands in pockets. Body pulsing still.
No guards. No cameras. Just them.
“I didn’t summon you,” Taehyung said.
“I summoned myself,” Jungkook replied slowly.
“You broke your own rule, Jeon.”
“I warned you I might break.”
Taehyung walked forward. Slow. Deliberate. Dangerous.
“You just want me like this.”
Jungkook's voice cracked, low and raw:
“I want all of you always.”
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The silence after felt like thunder.
Heat rose between their matching stares.
Taehyung’s voice dipped: “Then take me.”

---
Jungkook moved. Fast. Like re erupting.
Hands gripped Taehyung’s waist so tightly.
The dancer gasped, back hitting mirror.
“Mmh—Jungkook—”
“You drive me insane,” he growled.
Their mouths clashed. No warning. Brutal.
Tongues tangled. Teeth scraped. Groans echoed hard.
It wasn’t soft. It was starving.
Jungkook kissed like claiming a war.
Taehyung moaned into him, legs rising.
He wrapped around Jungkook’s hips tight.
Grinding. Rubbing. Arching against black silk.
"Fuck," Jungkook hissed, pulling shirt o .
Taehyung’s skin ushed, nipples already hard.
Jungkook sucked one, biting, licking fast.
"More—Jungkook—please don’t stop, please don’t—"
“I won’t,” Jungkook whispered against chest.
“I can’t stop now, angel.”

---
He spun Taehyung around the mirror.
Pressed his chest at to glass.
Taehyung whimpered, hips pushing back desperately.
“You want me to fuck you?”
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“Yes,” Taehyung cried, voice desperate, trembling.
“Please, Jungkook, please—just fuck me—”
Jungkook undid his pants slowly, hissing.
“Hold onto the mirror, tight.”
He pulled Taehyung’s pants down roughly.
Exposing perfect curves, ushed and waiting.
He spat into his hand quickly.
Licked his ngers. Slicked Taehyung carefully.
The dancer gasped at rst push.
Fingers breaching him. In and curling.
“More—ahh—Jungkook—deeper, please deeper—”
“You’re so tight. Fuck, Tae—tight.”
Taehyung arched beautifully, thighs trembling hard.
Jungkook added another nger, groaning deep.
“You’re opening so good for me.”
“Need your cock—no ngers—now, Jungkook—”
Jungkook couldn’t hold back anymore.
He lined up, pushed in slow.
“F-fuck—” Taehyung screamed into mirror glass.
Jungkook slid in deep. Inch. Deeper.
All the way—until their hips met.
“You’re mine,” Jungkook growled, thrusting hard.
“You were always fucking mine, angel.”
Taehyung sobbed against glass, lips open.
“Yes—yes—I’m yours—fuck me harder—”
Jungkook obeyed. Slammed into him fast.
The sound of skin—wet, loud, merciless.
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Their moans tangled, echoing o velvet.
Taehyung’s hands clawed the mirror frantically.
Every thrust knocked him higher, deeper.
“Faster—please—Jungkook—I’m gonna come—”
“Come for me,” Jungkook snarled hard.
“Come all over this fucking mirror.”
One more thrust and Taehyung screamed.
His body shook. Ropes of white.
Spilling across the mirror, sticky, messy.
Jungkook didn’t stop. Slammed in deeper.
Then came with a growl, trembling.
Spilling inside him. Hot. Endless. Desperate.

---
They stood there, bodies pressed close.
Sweaty. Breathless. Silent except soft panting.
Taehyung rested his cheek on glass.
Eyes closing, legs shaking underneath him.
Jungkook kissed his nape, whispering low.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
Taehyung swallowed, heart twisting quietly again.
“But you did.”

---
Later, they dressed in cold silence.
No words. No eye contact either.
Jungkook opened the door wordlessly rst.
Before he could leave, Taehyung asked—
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“So is this just control again?”
Jungkook turned. Face unreadable. Voice dry:
“This was love. Just… broken love.”
Then he left. Door clicking softly.
And Taehyung collapsed against mirror, weeping.

# chapter 2
📖 ROOM 9
Chapter 2: Caged Bird, Velvet Knife
5000 words | 6 words per line | Author POV

---
Room 9 was quiet that morning.
No music. No dancers. No lights.
Only silence sat across red velvet.
A stillness that pulsed with warning.
Down in the mirrored rehearsal hall,
Taehyung moved alone—barefoot, breathless, burning inside.
His ankles wrapped, blood barely scabbing over.
Still, he danced like it mattered.
He didn’t want beauty anymore.
He wanted escape. Freedom. To disappear.
But Room 9 wouldn’t let go.
Especially not Jungkook. Especially not him.
The door opened without any knock.
Taehyung didn’t look. He already knew.
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“I said I don’t want guards.”
“I’m not a guard,” Jungkook answered at.
“I’m the reason you’re still breathing.”
Taehyung turned, jaw sharp, voice low.
“Then stop breathing near me, Jungkook.”
Jungkook stepped forward. Unbothered. Slow. Icy calm.
“You’re trying to make me angry.”
Taehyung’s eyes ashed. “No. Uncomfortable maybe.”
Silence again. Thick like honeyed venom.
Jungkook moved to the mirror’s edge.
“You want to leave this place?”
“Would you let me?” Taehyung hissed.
“I’m your favorite toy, right?”
“I’d burn this club down rst.”
Taehyung inched. “That’s not romantic, Jungkook.”
“I’m not romantic. I’m possessive, Taehyung.”
Their re ections stared back in silver silence.
One cold king. One broken star.

---
Later that day, whispers lled corridors.
Yoongi leaned against the red hallway.
"You look like a man drowning."
Jungkook lit his cigarette wordlessly. Smoked.
“He hates me. Fully, nally.”
Yoongi shrugged. “Then let him go.”
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“I can’t,” Jungkook said. “He’s mine.”
“People aren’t possessions.”
Jungkook turned, eyes like wolves.
“He’s not people. He’s Taehyung.”

---
In his small room upstairs,
Taehyung stared at the old photo.
Him as a child, dancing barefoot.
A garden. A stage. A smile.
Before the debts. Before the ma a.
Before he signed his name away.
Just for his family to survive.
Just for a studio. Just enough.
Now he danced for crime lords.
For blood money. For lustful eyes.
For a man who wouldn’t let go.
A knock. Soft. Then a voice.
“I’m coming in,” Jimin called softly.
Jimin. His only real friend left.
He brought warm soup and silence.
They didn’t speak—just sat and breathed.
“You danced like death this morning.”
“I always do,” Taehyung said quietly.
“I think he’s really falling now.”
“Jungkook doesn’t fall. He pulls down.”

---
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Midnight returned like a black curtain.
Room 9 opened again for guests.
Smoke danced. Music sighed. Curtains rose.
But Taehyung didn’t perform tonight.
Instead, a new boy danced—awkward, scared.
Jungkook wasn’t watching him. Not once.
He stared at the empty balcony.
“Where is he?” he asked Yoongi.
“Refused tonight’s set,” Yoongi answered calmly.
Jungkook clenched his jaw, eyes twitching.
“Then bring him to my o ce.”

---
Upstairs in the gold-trimmed o ce,
Taehyung sat across from Jungkook again.
No stage lights now. No distractions.
Just dark wood. Silence. Heat building.
“I want to renegotiate my contract.”
Jungkook raised a brow. “Do you?”
“I want freedom. A date set.”
Jungkook leaned forward, tone deadly low.
“I’ll give you three months, Taehyung.”
Eyes wide. “You’re agreeing?” he asked.
Jungkook’s gaze sharpened. “Three months of me.”
“What?”
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“You perform only for me. Privately.”
Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat.
“You want me… for yourself alone?”
“No eyes. No stage. Just me.”
Silence again. Heat in the air.
A dangerous o er. Velvet-wrapped chains again.
“And after three months?”
“You’re free,” Jungkook said. “Fully. Gone.”
Taehyung didn’t know if he nodded.
He only felt the tension spiral.
“Deal,” he whispered, voice almost broken.
Jungkook smiled—but it didn’t reach eyes.
“Good. Room 9 is yours now.”

---
That night, Taehyung lay awake shaking.
His deal inked. His fate changed.
But in the dark… a truth.
His chest throbbed not with fear—
But something else. Something warmer. Worse.

---
Meanwhile, Jungkook stood alone in rain.
He watched the streets through black glass.
Cigarette burning. Jaw tight. Eyes hollow.
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Three months to keep him close.
Three months to make him stay.
Or destroy them both completely.

# chapter 7

📖 ROOM 9
Chapter 7: All the Ways You Break Me
5000 words | 6 words per line | Author POV
🔥 Second smut chapter 🔥
---
The club pulsed like a heartbeat.
Music low. Lights red and smoky.
Taehyung sat backstage, knee bouncing restlessly.
He had performed. He had smiled.
But the mask was breaking underneath.
Yuna had cornered him earlier.
"You should be careful, pretty boy.
He likes beautiful things until they fade."
Taehyung just blinked. Didn't respond.
But her words clung to his bones.
Like mold. Like poison. Like shame.

---
Upstairs, Jungkook was already spiraling quietly.
He had pushed Taehyung too far.
He knew it. Felt it deep.
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Yoongi was no help either.
"You look like you drowned inside."
"I think I did," Jungkook muttered.
"In velvet, in mirrors, in him."
Yoongi sighed. "Then go to him."

---
Taehyung’s room smelled of mint water.
The mirror was foggy from showers.
His robe hung o one shoulder.
And his tears stained the oor gently.
Until Jungkook knocked once—then entered anyway.
Taehyung didn’t look. “Go away, Jeon.”
“No,” Jungkook said, locking the door.
“I’ve had enough of going away.”
Taehyung wiped his face, slow, trembling.
“I’m tired. I’m done with you.”
“I’m not,” Jungkook said. Eyes darkening.
“I’m never done with you, Taehyung.”
The dancer turned. Hair damp. Chest heaving.
Jungkook’s breath caught. He looked wrecked.
But he stepped forward. One deep breath.
“I came to beg. Not claim.”
“Beg for what?” Taehyung snapped tightly.
“For one night you don’t regret.”
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---
The silence before his answer burned.
Taehyung licked his lips, stepped closer.
“You think I’ll forgive you after?”
“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” Jungkook whispered.
“I’m asking to feel you again.”
Taehyung shoved him, hard, into wall.
But his mouth crashed into Jungkook’s.
Kisses wild. Rough. Like war itself.
Their teeth clashed. Tongues fought hard.
Clothes tore. Robe dropped. Shirt yanked.
Taehyung bit Jungkook’s lower lip hard.
“I hate you,” he hissed brokenly.
“I love you,” Jungkook breathed against neck.

---
They stumbled toward the bed fast.
Taehyung pushed him down with force.
Straddled Jungkook like it was war.
“You don’t get to lead tonight.”
“Then take what you want, angel.”
Taehyung grinded down against his hips.
Their hard lengths rubbing, both panting.
“I want to ruin you tonight.”
Jungkook groaned, head falling back hard.
“You already did. You beautiful devil.”
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Taehyung grabbed his wrists, pinned them.
“I’ll ride you. No mercy tonight.”
He slid Jungkook’s pants down rough.
Licked his palm. Slicked himself fast.
Then aligned and sank down deep.

---
“F-fuck—” Jungkook cried out loud.
His back arched. Eyes rolling helplessly.
Taehyung moaned, thighs trembling around him.
“You feel me?” he gasped breathlessly.
“Every fucking inch—Tae—ride me harder—”
And he did. Bounced fast. Violent.
His hips slamming. Moans breaking apart.
“Don’t you dare come before me—”
Jungkook was gripping sheets. Screaming softly.
“God, you’re so tight—so fucking wet—”
Taehyung reached back. Touched himself quick.
His cock twitching. Leaking. Needing more.
“Look at me,” he demanded hard.
“Watch me fall apart on you.”
Jungkook obeyed, mouth hanging wide open.
“You’re perfect,” he said, voice cracking.
Taehyung came rst. Loud. Violent. Shaking.
His body froze. Then collapsed forward.
And Jungkook, with two more thrusts—
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Groaned, spilled deep inside him, trembling.

---
They didn’t speak for a while.
Just laid there. Tangled. Sweaty. Shaky.
Jungkook kissed his forehead so gently.
“You’re everything,” he whispered into skin.
Taehyung’s lips curled into a whisper.
“You don’t deserve me at all.”
“I know,” Jungkook said. Voice soft.
“But I’ll still keep begging anyway.”

---
Outside the door, Yuna stood still.
She had heard it. Every moan.
Every slap of skin. Every sob.
She turned away, cheeks red with rage.
And she made a call immediately.
“Put me on with Chairman Park.”

# chapter 1
📖 ROOM 9
Chapter 1: Curtain Rises on a Broken Star
5000 words | 6 words per line | Author POV

18 / 43
---
The club didn’t exist on maps.
No signs, no names, no lights.
Just a black door. Room 9.
It pulsed with music and smoke.
Inside, danger wore velvet and diamonds.
No one knew who owned it.
They only whispered about the king.
The one who watched from shadows.
The one with blood-soaked hands.
Jeon Jungkook, heir to everything criminal.
Tonight, the room was packed full.
Men in suits. Women in diamonds.
Cigarettes burned. Champagne foamed. Hearts trembled.
Because tonight, he was performing again—
The boy in silk and silence.
Curtains parted. Lights dimmed into red.
And there he stood—Kim Taehyung.
Hair falling like ink down neck.
Lips red. Skin kissed by spotlight.
Eyes dark as bruises or sin.
He didn’t look at the crowd.
He didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge noise.
He simply moved—like silk unraveling itself.
A slow arch. A fall. A twist.
Like every motion cost him everything.
The club held its breath hard.
No sound. No talking. Just him.
Taehyung danced like he didn’t live.
Like his body was all he owned.
And even that wasn’t fully his.
Up above, behind one-way glass,
Jungkook watched from his usual seat.
He sat like a statue, still.
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Black suit. No tie. Cigarette untouched.
Only his eyes moved—following Taehyung.
“He’s thinner,” Yoongi said beside him.
Jungkook didn’t respond, just inhaled smoke.
“He hasn’t eaten today, probably again.”
Still, nothing. Just silence. And gaze.
Taehyung’s body dipped to the oor.
His back arched like breaking porcelain.
Fingers trembling as they gripped air.
And when he looked up—empty gaze—
Jungkook nally breathed, chest rising slow.
No one knew why Jungkook cared.
He owned Room 9’s every brick.
He could have anyone. Anything.
But it was always this dancer.
Always Taehyung. Always this ache.
Performance ended. Applause cracked the silence.
Taehyung bowed once. Then walked o .
Gone behind curtains like smoke again.

---
Backstage smelled like roses and sweat.
Taehyung peeled the robe o slowly.
His feet were bleeding, again.
No one helped him. No one dared.
He sat on the stool quietly.
Unbuttoned his blouse. Sighed. Rubbed his ankles.
And then a knock—soft, slow, deadly.
His hand froze on his throat.
The door creaked open like breath.
In walked Jungkook, silence in shoes.
Black gloves. Cold aura. Eyes sharp.
He didn’t knock. He didn’t blink.
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“Did you eat today?” he asked.
Taehyung didn’t answer. Just looked away.
Jungkook’s jaw twitched. He stepped closer, slow.
“Answer me, Taehyung. Are you starving again?”
“No one told me I could.”
His voice was a whisper, cracked.
“Besides, food costs. I just dance.”
Jungkook’s hand gripped the back chair.
Wood cracked beneath his clenched knuckles.
“You don’t need to pay here.”
Taehyung nally looked up. Bitter smile.
“Nothing’s free here, not even breath.”
Jungkook leaned closer, voice low, harsh.
“Not for them. But for you—”
Taehyung stood fast, robes dragging oor.
“Please don’t pretend you care, Jeon.”
That stopped him. Just for seconds.
But his eyes darkened—fury, restraint, obsession.
“I do more than you know.”
“You own me,” Taehyung said coldly.
“I dance because you own me.”
Jungkook stepped forward again. Closer now.
“You think I care about dancing?”
Taehyung swallowed, throat bobbing like a sob.
“I think you like watching me su er.”
Silence. And then Jungkook whispered, deadly:
“I like watching you live, Taehyung.”

21 / 43
---
Outside, rain began against the windows.
Thunder rolled behind the closed curtains.
Jungkook stared at Taehyung’s raw feet.
He dropped to a crouch silently.
Taehyung inched. “Don’t.”
“Let me,” Jungkook said, ungloving hands.
Calloused ngers traced the bruised skin.
He touched him like glass, reverent.
“I can x this. Just say.”
“You can’t x what you broke.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“You kept me in this place.”
“I kept you safe from others.”
“I don’t want your velvet cage.”
“I don’t want anyone else touching you.”
That shut the room down cold.
Taehyung’s lips parted. “You’re obsessed, Jeon Jungkook.”
Jungkook stood again. Closer than breath.
His hand reached Taehyung’s jaw softly.
“I am,” he whispered, voice breaking.
“And you’re too beautiful to survive.”

---
Taehyung felt the air shift thick.
Desire tangled in guilt and shadows.
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He backed away. Hit the vanity.
“Don’t touch me unless you mean it.”
Jungkook’s eyes didn’t blink once.
“I always mean it with you.”
He left then. Door clicking shut.
Leaving Taehyung trembling in silence again.
Only then did Taehyung nally cry.
But even his tears danced silently.

---
Above the club, Yoongi stared down.
He watched Jungkook exit the hallway.
“You’re falling,” he muttered to himself.
“And he’s already broken, Jeon Jungkook.”
Downstairs, the stage lights turned o .
But in Room 9’s heart…
The re had already begun burning.

# chapter 8

📖 ROOM 9
Chapter 8: You Can’t Dance If You’re Caged
5000 words | 6 words per line | Author POV

---
Morning arrived, cruel and far too loud.
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Sunlight spilled across tangled limbs, sweat-drenched.
Taehyung lay half on Jungkook’s chest.
Their legs still entwined. Skin still ushed.
Jungkook watched him sleep for hours.
Watched the lashes utter. The lips part.
Memorized the afterglow of something sacred.
But he didn’t know yet—
That the world had already shifted overnight.

---
Downstairs, Yoongi’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.
He answered once. Said nothing back.
His eyes darkened. His ngers clenched hard.
When he nally found Jungkook upstairs—
The words came like a knife.
“Chairman Park wants the dancer gone.”
Jungkook blinked. “Who told him anything?”
“Yuna,” Yoongi said atly. “She called him.
Told him you’re... involved with sta .”
“He’s not sta ,” Jungkook snapped instantly.
Yoongi’s silence said everything else needed.
“He’s threatening to pull Room Nine funding.”
Jungkook’s jaw locked. “I’ll handle it.”
“You can’t out-power Park,” Yoongi warned.
“I can out-love him,” Jungkook replied low.
24 / 43
---
Taehyung stepped into the club late.
He wore black. Lips unpainted. Bare.
Eyes rimmed with sleep. Body still aching.
But everyone was staring. Whispering. Judging.
Jimin ran over immediately, clutching his arm.
“Tae… something happened. Come with me.”
Taehyung let himself be dragged fast.
Into the back, past changing rooms.
Yoongi was waiting, frown hard-set.
“You’re benched. Until further notice,” he said.
Taehyung blinked. “Benched? Why? I’m not sick.”
“This isn’t about health,” Yoongi replied.
“It’s about politics. Chairman Park intervened.”
Taehyung’s breath left him. Cold. Sharp.
He sank into the couch. Quietly shaking.

---
That night, the stage stayed empty.
Crowd asked. Eyes searched. Whispers bloomed.
But Jungkook didn’t go upstairs tonight.
He sat at the bar, alone.
And when Yuna came, lips smug—
He didn’t o er her a glance.
“You called him,” he said plainly.
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She sipped wine. “It was necessary, darling.
You’re too valuable to ruin over... him.”
Jungkook stood slowly. Shadows in eyes.
“Careful,” he said. “You’re touching re.”
Yuna leaned forward, voice honeyed.
“Or maybe I’m burning prettier than him?”
Before she could blink—glass shattered beside her.
Jungkook had smashed it. Hand bleeding.
Eyes pure fury. “Say his name again.
See if you leave walking tonight.”
Yuna inched for the rst time.

---
Taehyung watched it all unfold quietly.
From the shadows of the staircase.
And when he saw Jungkook bleeding—
He couldn’t stay hidden anymore.
He rushed forward, grabbed his wrist.
“Come with me. Now, Jeon.”
Jungkook didn’t resist. Just followed numbly.
Backstage. Into the dressing room corner.
Taehyung pulled out tissues, cleaned carefully.
Hands trembling. Heart loud. Voice gentle.
“You can’t protect me by bleeding.”
“I failed you,” Jungkook said softly.
“No,” Taehyung whispered. “You chose me.”
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They sat in silence for minutes.
Then Taehyung said what scared him most:
“If I can’t dance, I disappear.”
“You won’t disappear,” Jungkook swore instantly.
“But Room 9 was all I had.”
“You have me now,” Jungkook whispered.
Taehyung leaned against him slowly. Shaking.
“Then keep me. Don’t let go.”

---
That night, Yoongi made a call.
To a name even Chairman Park feared.
The next day, Room Nine’s lights ickered.
New investors arrived. With new contracts.
Jungkook signed them with steady hands.
And on page thirteen, clause nine:
“Taehyung Kim will perform without restriction.”
Yuna’s face twisted when she saw it.
She left the club without speaking.

---
Taehyung danced again that night.
Barefoot. In silk. Under gold lights.
And the crowd didn’t just cheer—
They cried. He was that beautiful.
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Jungkook stood backstage. Silent. In awe.
And when Taehyung nished, trembling breathless—
He ran straight into Jungkook’s arms.

# chapter 3

📖 ROOM 9
Chapter 3: Private Stage, Hungry Eyes
5000 words | 6 words per line | Author POV

---
Room 9 was closed to guests.
No guards. No crowd. No clinking.
Just silence that stuck to skin.
Taehyung stood centerstage in soft black.
Silk pants, sleeveless shirt, barefoot still.
He looked like a fallen prayer.
Above, Jungkook sat alone, watching again.
Not from the shadows—front row seat.
No glass. No distance. Just them.
"You said three months," Taehyung murmured cold.
"I’m starting now. Watch me su er."
Jungkook didn’t smile. Just leaned back.
“All I want is the truth.”
Taehyung stepped forward. Lights followed him.
“I’ll give you my body then.”
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Jungkook’s jaw clenched. “Not what I meant.”
But Taehyung turned, music slowly rising.
A new song. Slower. More haunting.
He moved—less dancer, more dream now.
A spin. A pause. A tremble.
His hands grazed ribs. Then thighs.
Jungkook didn’t blink once. Not once.
Taehyung faced him. Walked closer. Closer.
He slid to his knees smoothly.
Head tilted, arms stretched, back bowed.
The music faded. Breath louder now.
“You said only for you. Fine.”
Jungkook stood, eyes burning beneath lashes.
“That was not a performance, Taehyung.”
“Wasn’t it?” he asked, voice soft.
“You’re testing me,” Jungkook hissed low.
“You want me to break rules.”
“You made the rules,” Taehyung whispered.
“I didn’t say tease me, too.”
Taehyung smiled bitterly. “Then stop watching.”

---
Back in the greenroom later alone,
Taehyung rubbed his sore knees gently.
Dancing that close hurt, inside out.
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But part of him felt alive.
Not safe. Not loved. But seen.

---
Jungkook punched the mirror in rage.
Blood ran down knuckles, slow, hot.
Yoongi stared. Said nothing. Just watched.
“I can’t do this,” Jungkook muttered.
“You already are,” Yoongi answered low.
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“You already did.”

---
Night deepened. Room 9 stayed empty.
But in the hallways, whispers grew.
Why was the dancer now hidden?
Why did the king only watch?
Jimin cornered Jungkook near the stairs.
His glare sharp, sts clenched tight.
“If he cries again, I’ll snap.”
“He chose this,” Jungkook said coldly.
“No,” Jimin growled. “You left no choice.”

---
That night, Taehyung couldn’t sleep again.
His hands trembled. Thoughts screamed silently.
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He wanted out. But also… him.
The way Jungkook looked tonight—shattered inside.
Like he wanted something he hated.
Taehyung turned on the small radio.
A classical piece. One they knew.
They’d danced it once—before the contracts.
He cried then. Softly. Without shame.

---
Meanwhile, Jungkook touched the bloodstained glass.
He stared at his own re ection.
“What if I ruin him more?”
The glass didn’t answer. Just stared.

# chapter 9

📖 ROOM 9
Chapter 9: Re ections on Your Skin
5000 words | 6 words per line | Author POV
🔥 Third and nal smut chapter 🔥
---
The lights in Room Nine dimmed.
But it wasn’t showtime for crowds.
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Tonight, it was a private stage.
Just Taehyung. Just Jungkook. Just mirrors.
The room was silent, heavy, waiting.
Jungkook sat on the velvet bench.
Shirt open. Heart racing. Eyes wide.
Taehyung stood in silk and leather.
Chest bare. Skin glowing like gold.
Every movement calculated. Slow. Seductive. Inevitable.
“You made a promise,” Taehyung said.
“I did,” Jungkook whispered. “To keep you.”
“And tonight,” Taehyung stepped between his knees,
“I make one too… to claim you.”

---
He bent forward. Lips brushed ear.
“You’ll remember tonight every fucking morning.”
Jungkook’s breath caught. “Then don’t go gentle.”
“Oh, I don’t plan to, baby.”
Taehyung pushed him back onto cushions.
Kissed down his neck. Bit hard.
Left teeth marks on his collarbone.
“Mine,” he said. Voice low, dangerous.
“Mine in mirrors. Mine in bruises.”
Jungkook moaned. “Yes. Fuck—yours, always yours.”

---
Taehyung undressed him piece by piece.
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Kissed down to every trembling muscle.
Tongue slow. Fingers teasing. Warm breath trailing.
And behind them— oor-length mirrors re ected everything.
The curve of Jungkook’s spine. Arched.
The shine of sweat on thighs.
“Look at yourself,” Taehyung demanded sharply.
Jungkook obeyed. Face ushed, lips parted.
“See how good you take me?”
Taehyung slid down, mouth hot, open.
Wrapped his lips around Jungkook’s cock.
“F-fuck—” Jungkook’s hand ew to hair.
Taehyung bobbed slow, wet sounds echoing loud.
Then fast. Then deep. Then hollowed.
Eyes locked in mirror with him.
Jungkook watched himself fall apart completely.
“God—baby, I’m gonna—Tae—stop—”
Taehyung pulled o with a pop.
Not done. Not even close yet.

---
He straddled Jungkook next, knees rm.
Rolled his hips. Grinding against his cock.
Their skin ushed. Moans getting louder.
Jungkook’s hands gripped Taehyung’s waist tight.
“Ride me,” he begged. “Please, now—”
But Taehyung tutted. “I’m in control.”
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He took the lube, slicked himself fast.
Lifted up. Aligned. Sank down slowly.
Both of them gasped. Loud. Shuddering.
“Fucking—tight—so fucking deep—” Jungkook groaned hard.
Taehyung held his chest, body trembling.
Then started to move. Slow, deep.
Grinding. Rolling. Full strokes. Mirrored perfection.
Every thrust hit something electric inside.
Taehyung moaned louder with every bounce.
Sweat trickling down the curve slowly.
“You look gorgeous breaking for me.”
Jungkook could barely hold his sanity.
“You’re gonna kill me like this—”
“Good,” Taehyung hissed. “Die looking at me.”

---
He rode faster. Slapping skin wet.
The sound lled the room, wild.
Their moans got louder. Hotter. Desperate.
Jungkook sat up. Mouth to shoulder.
Kissing, biting, gasping Taehyung’s name repeatedly.
Taehyung touched himself. Close. So close.
“Wanna come together,” he panted loud.
“Fuck, yes—just say when—please—”
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Taehyung leaned in. Bit his ear.
Then growled one word: “Now.”
They came together, violently shaking hard.
Taehyung’s cum splattered between their chests.
Jungkook lled him so deep inside.
They collapsed into a sweaty mess.
Breathing fast. Muscles twitching. Souls undone.

---
After minutes, Taehyung whispered through haze.
“Did the mirrors make it better?”
Jungkook grinned, eyes still half-closed.
“They made it holy, my prince.”
Taehyung laughed softly, tracing his mouth.
“Mine,” he whispered again. “Always mine.”

---
Yuna was gone. Chairman Park silenced.
The club thrived. Dancers laughed again.
But only Jungkook ever saw Room Nine
this way—sweaty, raw, glowing, and sacred.
Because Room Nine wasn’t a place—
It was Taehyung. And he was eternal.

# chapter 10
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📖Author
ROOM 9 Chapter 10: The Last Dance, and After
POV
The city lights blinked like sighs.
Gentle wind danced through alley corners.
Room Nine’s sign ickered one last time.
Tonight was its farewell performance.
Taehyung stood center stage alone.
No costume. No glitter. No mask.
Just silk pants, bare feet, heartbeat.
The crowd sat silent, almost reverent.
No music yet. No movement either.
Then came a single spotlight.
Warm. Like sun. Like new beginnings.
He raised his hands. Closed eyes.
And then—he danced.
Not for lust. Not for show.
He danced to breathe. To remember.
For every time he felt small.
For every bruise, whisper, and scar.
For every tear he didn’t name.
For every time Jungkook held him.
The crowd cried before the end.
Because it wasn’t just movement anymore.
It was Taehyung telling the truth.
Jungkook stood in shadows, trembling.
He had planned this for weeks.
Reserved the night. Closed the club.
Invited only those who truly saw him.
Once Taehyung stopped—chest rising hard—
Jungkook walked out onto the stage.
Taehyung blinked. “What are you doing?”
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Jungkook didn’t answer with words.
He knelt instead. Box in hand.
Pulled out the small black box.
And when he opened it—
The ring glowed like promise.
Simple. Elegant. Just like them.
“Not a proposal,” Jungkook said softly.
“Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”
Taehyung choked back a soundless sob.
“Then what is this?” he asked.
“A reminder,” Jungkook said, eyes glassy.
“That no one can take you.
Not from me. Not from yourself.”
He took Taehyung’s hand. Slipped it on.
It t like moonlight in sky.
“You choose everything from now on.
Where we live. When you dance.
Who you are. Who I am.”
Taehyung’s voice cracked. “And you?”
“I already chose,” Jungkook said rmly.
“I choose you, Kim Taehyung. Forever.”
The crowd stood. Applauded long, slow.
Some whistled. Some cried. Some smiled.
But none knew what came next.
Taehyung kissed him, soft and slow.
Not for show. Not for drama.
But because love was too loud.
That night, they drove far out.
To the hills where moonlight poured.
They laid blankets on the grass.
And opened the paints Jungkook brought.
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Taehyung dipped ngers in deep blue.
Smeared a stripe across Jungkook’s chest.
Jungkook laughed, dipped into violet.
Painted a heart over Taehyung’s belly.
Soon they were naked and smeared.
Bodies covered in wild, soft color.
Kisses pressed between strokes and laughter.
“I want to love you here,”
Taehyung whispered. “In moonlight. In paint.”
Jungkook laid him down, hovering close.
“I want to make you scream.”
And he did. Slow and deep.
Entered Taehyung with aching, perfect stretch.
Made love under stars, in colors.
Every thrust was pure heat, home.
Taehyung screamed Jungkook’s name again, louder.
Fingers clawing into his painted back.
“I love you—I love you—please—”
Jungkook groaned, losing himself fully.
“I’ve got you, baby. Always you.”
Their moans echoed through the elds.
Bodies rocking, glowing, painted and undone.
They came together, breathless and crying.
Hearts open. Souls drenched in love.
One year later
A seaside town. A quiet studio.
Glass walls. Warm oors. Peaceful mornings.
Taehyung stood in the sunlit room.
Wearing owy white. Cradling his stomach.
Jungkook walked in from the garden.
Paint-stained ngers. Softest smile. Gentle eyes.
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“You okay?” he asked, kissing temple.
Taehyung nodded. “He kicked again today.”
Jungkook knelt down. Kissed the belly.
“My little dancer. Growing so fast.”
They stayed there, bathed in light.
Three heartbeats, warm and beating strong.
The ring still on Taehyung’s nger.
The dance never ending, just evolving.
Because Room Nine was never a place—
It was Taehyung’s heart. Jungkook’s home.
And now, a family was growing there.
End of Room 9

# chapter 5
📖 ROOM 9
Chapter 5: Bruises Where the Eyes Can’t See
5000 words | 6 words per line | Author POV

---
Sunlight hit like a quiet betrayal.
Through the blinds. Across messy sheets.
But the room was cold again.
Taehyung stood in the shower alone.
Water hot, hands pressed to tile.
His lips swollen. Neck slightly bruised.
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He scrubbed hard. Skin turning red.
As if he could erase last night.
As if he wanted to forget.
But the mirror saw it all.
His eyes didn’t lie to him.
They looked softer now. And scared.
“I’m still not free,” he whispered.

---
Jungkook didn’t sleep at all either.
He sat by the window silently.
Cigarette untouched. Co ee cold. Hands twitching.
Yoongi arrived without knocking, of course.
One look, and he knew everything.
“You did it, didn’t you?”
Jungkook stayed silent. Jaw clenched tight.
“You look like hell,” Yoongi said.
“You also look like you care.”
“That’s the problem,” Jungkook muttered bitterly.
“I didn’t mean to feel anything.”
“You never do. But you did.”

---
By the time Room 9 opened,
Everyone could feel the heavy tension.
Taehyung sat in the corner booth.
No makeup. No smile. No costume.
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People stared. He never looked back.
Girls whispered. Men glanced and smirked.
But Taehyung just held his drink quietly.
As if his whole soul was elsewhere.
Jimin walked over and sat close.
“You didn’t call me last night.”
“I didn’t want to lie,” Taehyung replied.
Jimin narrowed his eyes, voice tight.
“He fucked you, didn’t he?”
Taehyung inched. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Then tell me it meant something.”
Taehyung looked down. Fingers shaking slightly.
“I don’t know what it meant.”
Jimin grabbed his hand, tighter now.
“Just promise me you won’t break.”
“I already have,” Taehyung whispered gently.

---
Upstairs, Jungkook watched through the balcony.
He didn’t call Taehyung to dance.
He didn’t even speak to him.
But he watched. Every step. Every breath.
He watched like he was starving.
Yoongi stood behind him, arms crossed.
“You want him close, not caged.”
“I already fucked that up,” Jungkook said.
“He thinks I’m just using him.”
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“Are you?” Yoongi asked. Point-blank. Sharp.
Jungkook turned away, eyes nally honest.
“I think I’m already in love.”

---
Taehyung danced that night after all.
Not for Jungkook. Not for guests.
But for himself. On the rooftop.
Music in earbuds. Sky above him.
He twirled barefoot under pale stars.
And when the music faded low,
He heard the creak of a door.
He didn’t need to turn around.
He felt Jungkook behind him already.
“I wasn’t hiding,” Taehyung murmured softly.
“I know,” Jungkook said. Closer now.
Taehyung turned. Face unreadable. Barefoot still.
“You said it was love, right?”
Jungkook nodded. Voice almost a breath.
“I said it after fucking you.
That’s the worst part,” he admitted.
Taehyung crossed his arms, holding tight.
“I don’t want love from a lie.”
“It’s not,” Jungkook said. “Not anymore.”
“Then say it before you touch.”
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Silence again. Wind ru ed his shirt.
Jungkook reached forward, slow and careful.
He brushed Taehyung’s cheek gently once.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then stop looking at me like prey.”
Jungkook stepped back. A rare retreat.
“I just wanted to see you.”
“You already saw everything,” Taehyung replied softly.

---
Back in his room, Taehyung cried.
Quiet tears. Silent sobs into pillows.
Because he missed being held after.
Because Jungkook didn’t stay that night.
Didn’t kiss his hair. Didn’t ask.
Because love shouldn’t feel like this ache.

---
Jungkook stood in front of mirrors.
The ones that watched them before.
He stared at his own re ection.
“I’ll x this. I have to.”
But the mirror didn’t believe him.

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