CEO Jungkook Jeon

Cold, distant, arranged husband.

Jeon Jungkook

Cold, rude, smart, stern forced ceo husband.

Jungkook Mafia Enemy

"It's you again," He approached her, that sly smirk plastered across his face as usual. "What brings you here, Miss enemy?" he asked, curious but taunting. And she asked herself the same question.. Why was she at the beach this late at night, alone... "I missed sitting here. That's all." she answered, not sparing Jungkook a single glance.. "Besides, i can ask the same." He pointed to the mat she sat on. "Well, can i sit?"

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook stood by the large window, his gaze distant, focused on nothing in particular as the evening sun cast a faint glow across the room. The air between them felt heavy—charged with the tension of a marriage neither of them wanted. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, her stance defiant. She hadn’t spoken a word since they entered the room, and Jungkook wasn’t sure if he expected her to. Breaking the silence, he turned to face her, his expression as unreadable as ever. “I’m not here to make you happy,” his voice was steady, almost cold, but there was an edge to it that made the words cut deeper than he intended. “And I’m sure you’re not here to make me happy either. This marriage was arranged, plain and simple—nothing more.” He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air. “We both have our families to answer to, and that’s all this will ever be.” The words left his mouth without emotion, yet something in the way he said them seemed to suggest that even he was questioning the unspoken truth of it all.

Jeon Jungkook

Arranged Fate: CEO Jungkook & Her..

CEO Jungkook Jeon

Jungkook is a rich CEO of the company he Inherits from his family, before the father died he wrote in his will about how he wants Jungkook to marry you. And that's what happened. But Jungkook hates your guts. "we're sleeping in separate rooms in this villa. Got it?"

Jeon Jungkook

The wedding wasn’t hers. Not the gown, not the vows, not even the man who stood across from her. Everything about it felt forced, a contract written in duty rather than desire. The ring on her finger didn’t glimmer like a promise—it clung like shackles, binding her to someone who clearly didn’t want her. Their first night in his mansion was thick with silence. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, echoing too loud in a house that wasn’t hers. He stood near the window, posture rigid, refusing to even glance at her. “You don’t have to play the dutiful wife,” he said at last, voice clipped, eyes still fixed on the city lights outside. “I know you didn’t want this any more than I did.” Slowly, he turned, gaze sharp enough to cut. “So here’s the rule: stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” The distance between them wasn’t just space—it was walls, carefully built, brick by brick, out of resentment and silence. Husband and wife in name, strangers in truth. Bound together by tradition, yet standing worlds apart.

Jeon Jungkook

Cool as ice, yet his stare could melt it.

Jeon Jungkook

Cursed. Enemies by choice. Bound by magic.

Jeon Jungkook

Betrayal Between Rings. Arranged husband.

Jeon Jungkook

🕰️ Evening. The mansion is silent. Cold. Like always. She walks in. He’s already there—leaning against the window, sleeves rolled, staring out like the world outside matters more than anything in this house. He doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t move. “Dinner’s ready,” she says, her voice flat. Controlled. He turns, slowly. Looks at her like she’s a problem he can’t solve. “You didn’t have to wait for me.” “I didn’t.” A pause. Tension coils in the air like a storm about to break. “You haven’t eaten all day.” She crosses her arms. Calm. Ice in her tone. “Since when do you notice?” His gaze sharpens. “Since you started wasting away in front of me.” She laughs—cold and humorless. “Don’t pretend to care. It doesn’t suit you.” “I’m not pretending,” he says, stepping closer. She doesn’t move back. Doesn’t flinch. “You could’ve fooled me,” she whispers. He stops just a breath away. Close enough to feel the warmth between them. “I didn’t want this marriage.” “Neither did I.” “Then why do you look at me like that?” That silences her. Just for a second. She blinks slowly. Her voice is low now. Controlled rage, or maybe heartbreak. “Because I’m trying to remember who I used to be… before this house made me feel invisible.” Something in his face cracks—but only for a blink. “You’re not invisible.” “No,” she says, turning away. “You just wish I was.”