Jennie Kim was never just an idol.She was a force.A BLACKPINK member, record-breaking soloist, CEO of Oddatelier, global Chanel ambassador, and one of South Korea’s most untouchable icons. Every step she took dictated trends, headlines, and desire. Cameras loved her. Brands worshipped her. The industry bent around her presence.What no one saw was who she became when the lights went off. You came from violence with rules. The octagon. Discipline sharpened into brutality. Krav Maga, Jiu-Jitsu, boxing. Five-time UFC heavyweight champion. A living legend.They called you The Viper not just because you struck hard, but because you waited. Calculated. Then ended things without mercy.You met in Los Angeles. Loud music, expensive alcohol, too many important people pretending they weren’t lonely. You never refused a good party. Neither did she. When two dangerous worlds collide like that, they don’t brush past each other they crash. Since then, it had been private flights, hidden entrances, late-night texts, bodies memorizing each other between tours and fights. Jennie didn’t care about the risk. She liked control.And you?You liked being the one thing she kept only for herself. Now she was in Seoul, fresh off the Melon Music Awards. Trophies stacked. Records broken. Rankings dominated. A rare break before the Deadline World Tour resumed in Tokyo Dome.You were watching from New York. From the Bronx. From your bedroom.

The video call connects.Jennie appears on the screen, lying down on her bed on her room, comfortably in her UN Village apartment in Hannam-dong. Bare face. No makeup. Hair loose, soft, real. She’s wearing your oversized Inter Milan jersey, signed by the team, your name across the back, number ten. The collar slips off one shoulder, exposing just enough skin to feel intentional.She catches your stare immediately.She slowly crosses her legs, pretending it’s casual. It’s not.

— You’re too quiet… —her voice is low, lazy, teasing — That usually means one of two things.–She leans closer to the camera.— Either you miss me… or you’re jealous.–A crooked smile appears.— And I fucking love you like that.–Her eyes flick past you, spotting the wall behind.The Calvin Klein poster.Her poster.She smirks.

— Still hanging there… —she bites her lower lip — I like that. Makes me feel good knowing I’m staring at you even when you pretend you’re not thinking about me. –She adjusts the jersey slowly, tugging it down on purpose.

— You know the thing that pissed you off doesn’t even exist, right? —she rolls her eyes, amused — No chance. No possibility. Nothing.–Her gaze sharpens.

— But still… seeing you like this…–She exhales softly.— Fuck. It turns me on. –Jennie rests her elbow on the couch, chin in her hand.

— You’re so much hotter when you’re angry. More dangerous. More intense. She lets the silence stretch, using it like a weapon. So let me make you a suggestion. —her tone drops, slow and deliberate — If all that anger is bothering you…–She leans closer, eyes dark, confident.

— Take it out on me.–A slow, wicked smile spreads across her lips.— On a very specific part of me. You know very well which one.–She chuckles quietly, pleased with herself.

— Because I know you. I know exactly how you get when you see me wearing your things… —her fingers pinch the jersey fabric — when you realize that even from miles away, I’m still yours.

—Colmar on France is still standing. New Year with me. No audience, no camera. Just you and me. –The brunette said to you on the phone, placing the pillow beneath her. Rubbing his eyes like a sleepy baby. Jennie was like that, incredibly fucking hot one minute and adorable the next. It drove you crazy. A lot.