𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊

27

Y/n's POV-

I couldn't tell how long I clung to him as the unexpected aftershocks racked my system, but by the time my brain seemed to kick back in.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Jungkook was shot.

He was shot, and I could feel the hot, sticky blood from his wound moving down my side.

My hands pressed into his chest and pushed him backward.

"You're bleeding." I told him, feeling a little frazzled and overwhelmed and a little bit, well, horrified.

 I did a penguin waddle toward the shower. Thankfully, Jungkook was busy getting wearing his pants, so he wasn't looking.

Reaching in, I turned the shower on full tilt before ripping off my shirt, and moving inside. Looking down, I could see his blood spread all over my stomach, hip, and thigh. I looked like a freaking crime scene.

I went right to scrubbing at the blood with the soap until all traces of it were off me before I even let my gaze slip back toward the rest of the bathroom.

And there was Jungkook, bent forward, looking down at his wound. One hand was placed over the top of it, stretching the skin taut, while the other hand reached for a long tweezer, and started to dig inside his wound.

My stomach roiled at the image, making my gaze slip away.

But even with my gaze averted, the image stayed in my mind, making me need to take slow, deep breaths, trying to fight back the bile that rose up my throat.

I was vaguely aware a moment later of a slight tinging sound, like the bullet dropping into the sink Which only managed to make another wave of nausea move through my system.

Not even a moment later, though, the shower door was opening, and I was all-too-aware of Jungkook moving into the space. Granted, it wasn't a normal shower; eight people probably could have stood in it comfortably. But I swear it felt like he was sucking up all the air as soon as he moved inside.

Or maybe that was just because I was starting to feel a little woozy from the whole fishing a bullet out of his own body thing.

"Is it the blood?" Jungkook asked a moment later, tone curious. I was pretty sure my entire face was green at that moment.

Swallowing hard, I told him, "It's the... the tweezers... and the... ugh." I grumbled, pressing a hand to my mouth, practically tasting the bile.

"Go," Jungkook said, tone soft, "Go to bed." he added.

"You have a hole in your stomach. I don't wanna leave you alone."

"I will have Jimin stitch it," he told me.

"Oh, God..." I grumbled, not even bothering to turn off the shower head I was standing under as I rushed out of the enclosure.

I grabbed a towel and went into my walk-in closet for a moment, trying to get myself together. As soon as I was sure I could move around without getting sick, I slipped into some pajamas, and rushed through the bathroom to throw myself under the covers in the bed.

It wasn't long before I heard Jimin come up and go into the bathroom. Where I knew he was going to take a needle and thread to Jungkook's skin without, you know, numbing agents or anything.

The thought of that kept me occupied with my nausea until, eventually, I passed out from all the events of the day.

JK'S POV-

My side hurt like a motherf#cker.

Only an idiot decided to have sex with their wife while they had a bullet wedged in their body and a gaping, bleeding hole around it.

That said, it was worth it.

F#ck, was it worth it.

And the pain helped me stay focused not to hurt her, when every fiber of me being wanted to slam deep and come inside her within minutes of feeling her tight walls grabbing my dick.

I hadn't anticipated that all playing out when I made my way up the stairs to deal with the bullet wedged in my side. It wasn't the first time, and it probably wouldn't be the last, so fishing out a bullet wasn't the big deal it might have been for most people.

But then she'd come out of that closet, terrified, but ready to fight her way out of a bad situation if necessary, and I'd never really been more sure about my choice as I'd been at that moment.

Until a couple minutes later, of course, when we had sex, when she was taking me inside her, when she was milking my orgasm from me with her own.

I never did that. Ever. It was my first time.

That was next-level. It was such an intense feeling that anytime it even flashed across my mind afterward, I felt myself starting to get hard again.

So I had to stop letting my mind go there.

Because there was shit to be done. Like getting the f#cking wound stitched up which was every bit as unpleasant as it sounded. And then I had to get back down to my men to have a meeting.

I wasn't an idiot. It wasn't just some neighborhood moron who got brave and tried to steal from me. Quite frankly, no one was that f#cking stupid around here.

The problem was, I'd been acting out of a protective instinct, knowing my wife was sitting in the closet terrified, instead of using my head, and making sure the f#cker stayed alive for me to get answers out of.

I'd nearly severed his head from his f#cking body with the knife I'd grabbed along with my gun. If it weren't for my brothers, I probably would have done it.

I wouldn't try to claim that I was the most even-tempered of men, but I wasn't typically someone who acted out with fits of uncontrolled violence, either. For me, violence was a tactic and it needed to be used, but carefully and wisely to bring about the result I wanted.

But this was the second time I'd raged out and acted like a lunatic.

And, it had to be said, both times were because of my wife.

When the fucker touched her in the restaurant.

And when someone threatened her safety in her own home.

I couldn't say for certain where that overwhelming response came from but I was pretty sure it was because I am passionately in love with my wife. 

I didn't really even believe in that shit before I saw her.

she was mine. And no one touched, threatened, or hurt what was mine.

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