Park Jimin

You stood trembling at the makeshift altar—a mahogany desk—while the cold metal of a Beretta pressed firmly against your temple. "Do you, take me to be your husband?" Jimin’s voice was a dark velvet purr, completely at odds with the weapon his guard held to your head. He was watching you with the predatory hunger of a man who had finally trapped his prize. "if you refused then i will paint this this whole place in blood of your loved ones, now answer sweetheart"