Kang Y/N never imagined her life would be sold off like a business deal. When her powerful family arranges her marriage to a man she's never met, she's forced to say yes to a name-Kim Taehyung-a complete stranger with a reputation that whispers through the underworld like a threat. She expects an old, ruthless man. What she gets is a dangerously handsome, cold-blooded Yakuza who has no room for weakness... but makes an exception for her. Thrown into a world of guns, luxury, secrets, and blood-soaked loyalty, Y/N struggles to understand the mysterious man she now calls husband. But the more she resists him, the more Taehyung is drawn to her fire. He may own the city... But she might just own his heart. In a marriage built on power, trust is lethal. And love? Even deadlier. #2 taehyungff (5/7) #1 taehyungff (7/7) #1 taehyung (8/7) #8 fanfic (9/7) #2 btsff (11/7)

The legacy of the Kim Yakuza continues through Kim Hyunwoo, the 18-year-old heir and eldest son of Kim Taehyung and Kang Y/N. Calm, disciplined, and raised to lead, Hyunwoo is already respected within the clan and feared by enemies. But as he balances his final year in school and kendo training, his path takes a personal turn. Until fate throws him into an arranged engagement he didn't ask for. His bride-to-be? Aiko Hikari, the youngest daughter of Kyoto's feared yet elite Hikari Yakuza clan - and someone who couldn't be more different from him. Seventeen, bubbly, cheerful, and radiating sunshine like a walking cherry blossom, Aiko is the embodiment of softness, femininity, and charm - with a playful sass that both irritates and intrigues Hyunwoo. Behind her innocent laughter lies a sharp mind, a wild heart, and a girl who's never had a real choice in her life - just like Hyunwoo. As sparks of tension grow between them during their forced proximity, loyalty to family is tested by the desires of the heart. Hyunwoo. What begins as cold, dutiful meetings at formal gatherings slowly ignites into something more: tension, defiance, chemistry. When they're left alone, sparks fly - and neither of them can tell whether it's hate, desire, or something dangerously close to love.