BTS Oneshots(Long Chapters Ahead) Smut Warning

Mafia: Misunderstanding

The air shimmered with a heat that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. Jungkook paced the sterile white living room of their penthouse, his every step echoing in the tense silence. Taehyung sat on the plush white couch, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside him. His hand, usually clutching a book or a paintbrush, hovered protectively over his stomach, now prominent at four months.

"This is insane, Jungkook!" Taehyung finally exploded, his voice tight with a mixture of fear and anger. "You can't just decide to take on the Gimpo Dons by yourself!"

Jungkook whirled on him, his eyes blazing. "They've been encroaching on our territory for months, Taehyung! Someone has to do something!"

"And that someone doesn't have to be you, risking your life – our life!" Taehyung shot back, his voice cracking slightly.

Jungkook stopped, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with the unspoken threat of violence. He loathed the way his anger flared, the primal urge to lash out threatening to consume him. But the target this time, the one his rage simmered towards, was the person he cherished most.

Taehyung flinched, his eyes widening in a mixture of fear and hurt. He saw the barely suppressed fury on Jungkook's face and knew, with a sickening certainty, that this fight had crossed a dangerous line. A choked sob escaped his lips, a fragile sound that shattered the volatile tension.

Shame washed over Jungkook, cold and suffocating. He hadn't meant to scare him, especially not now, not with the baby. He forced his hand open, the phantom sting of the almost-blow lingering on his knuckles.

"Taehyung..." he started, his voice thick with remorse.

But Taehyung was already scrambling off the couch, tears glistening on his cheeks. He ran towards their bedroom, his pregnant form shaking with silent sobs. Jungkook watched him go, his heart a lead weight in his chest.

The sterile whiteness of the room mocked him. It felt like a metaphor for their fractured world, devoid of the warmth that usually filled their home. He sank onto the couch, the plushness offering no comfort. The silence roared in his ears, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.

A long time later, the storm outside had subsided, leaving behind a heavy, oppressive stillness. Taehyung emerged from the bedroom, his eyes red-rimmed but dry. He sat beside Jungkook, a safe distance away.

"We can't keep doing this, Jungkook," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "This life, the constant danger... it's not good for us, not for the baby."

Jungkook nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Shame burned in his gut, a harsh counterpoint to the cold fear that had gripped him earlier. He had almost hurt Taehyung, the man he loved more than life itself.

"We'll find a way out," Jungkook finally rasped. "Together. I promise."

Taehyung reached out, his hand hovering over Jungkook's. Hesitantly, Jungkook met it, the warmth of Taehyung's touch a balm to his wounded soul. They sat in silence for a while, a fragile truce holding in the aftermath of the destructive storm. The path ahead wouldn't be easy, but for the first time, they were facing it together, a renewed determination flickering in their eyes. The fight had shattered something, but from the wreckage, a new resolve had emerged – a resolve to protect their family, to find a way out of the darkness and into a safer, brighter future.

The air crackled with unspoken apologies in the aftermath of their fight. Taehyung, usually a whirlwind of vibrant energy, sat slumped on the couch, the fight stealing his usual spark. His pregnant belly, a constant reminder of their future, strained against the confines of his sweatpants. Jungkook paced before the floor-to-ceiling windows, the cityscape a blurry mess of neon lights reflecting in his agitated eyes.

Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the rhythmic drumming of rain against the windowpanes. The anger had dissipated, leaving behind a raw vulnerability neither man knew how to navigate.

Taehyung finally broke the silence, his voice barely a whisper. "Jungkook," he started, then stopped, biting his lip.

Jungkook whirled around, his eyes searching Taehyung's face. Shame gnawed at him for his outburst. He knew he owed Taehyung an apology, but the words felt inadequate.

"I..." he started, then trailed off, frustration knotting his gut.

Taehyung surprised him by pushing himself off the couch and walking towards him. He stopped a hesitant step away, his eyes flickering with a mix of defiance and longing.

"Don't apologize, Jungkook," Taehyung said, his voice surprisingly steady for someone on the verge of tears. "Just hold me."

Jungkook's heart hammered in his chest. He understood the silent plea in Taehyung's eyes. It wasn't a request for comfort, but for something more, something primal that transcended the fight.

Without a word, he reached out, pulling Taehyung into a tight embrace. The familiar warmth of Taehyung's body seeped into him, grounding him. He buried his face in Taehyung's hair, inhaling the scent of vanilla that always soothed him.

Taehyung leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips. His hand, usually clutching a paintbrush or a book, hesitantly trailed up Jungkook's back, sending shivers down his spine.

The air crackled with a different kind of tension now. It wasn't the hostile energy of their argument, but a simmering desire, a yearning for connection that had been laid bare by their vulnerability.

In a husky voice, Taehyung whispered against Jungkook's neck, "Make love to me, Jungkook."

The words, raw and honest, sent a jolt through Jungkook. He understood. This wasn't about erasing the fight, but about acknowledging their bond, about finding solace in each other's touch.

He cupped Taehyung's face, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear. Desire flared in his eyes, but it was tempered with a tenderness that hadn't been there before.

"Are you sure, Tae?" he asked softly, his voice thick with concern. He wouldn't take advantage of Taehyung's emotional state.

Taehyung met his gaze, his eyes filled with a desperate need for intimacy. "Yes," he breathed, his voice trembling slightly. "Touch me, Jungkook. Remind me why we're fighting for this."

Jungkook didn't need any more convincing. He scooped Taehyung into his arms, the familiar weight a source of comfort. As they moved towards their bedroom, the rain continued its relentless drumming, a muted backdrop to the storm that had raged within them and the tentative peace they were rebuilding, one touch at a time.