41
Third Person Pov
The CEO’s private gym was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Jungkook sat on the workout bench, elbows resting on his knees, his dark gym shirt clinging faintly to his frame.
His hair hung forward, brushing his eyes as he stared at the floor, lost in thought.
The soft patter of footsteps outside broke the silence. Jungkook didn’t bother lifting his head, he already knew who it was. The sound stopped just at the doorway.
“Get in,” Jungkook said flatly, voice firm but low.
Gyubin froze for a second, his wide eyes blinking nervously before he stepped inside, his small hands tucked behind his back as though afraid of being scolded. He padded closer, his steps careful, his gaze flickering around the huge gym before landing on Jungkook.
Jungkook finally raised his eyes from the floor, glancing at the boy. “Bring me those gloves.” His chin jerked toward the black workout gloves resting on the table nearby.
Gyubin hesitated for a moment, then nodded quickly. “Yes,” he said softly. He turned on his heel, grabbed the gloves with his little hands, and walked back toward Jungkook, holding them out with an almost reverent air.
Jungkook’s gaze lingered on the boy as he took the gloves, pulling them on with sharp, practiced movements. He flexed his hands, the leather creaking faintly, then stood, his shadow towering over Gyubin.
“Stay there,” Jungkook instructed, moving toward the punching bag. He began adjusting the straps, tightening them with precise motions before turning slightly. “Hold it steady.”
Gyubin blinked, startled, but padded closer. He placed his small hands against the heavy bag, bracing his skinny arms against it with all the strength he had. The weight nearly tipped him, but he planted his feet and bit his lip.
Jungkook threw the first punch, the sound echoing sharp in the room. Gyubin flinched, but his eyes shone with fascination. With each strike, the boy leaned harder into the bag, his little body struggling but determined not to let it sway too far.
“Good,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, almost like an absent approval. His fists moved rhythmically, his muscles taut and commanding.
Sweat beaded on his brow as he continued, the bag shuddering under the force of his blows, Gyubin wobbling but refusing to let go.
“You’re interested?” Jungkook asked suddenly between punches, his voice rough but calm.
Gyubin looked up, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide with a spark of awe. “It’s… cool,” he whispered. “You’re so strong.”
For a moment, Jungkook’s lips twitched not a smile, but something close to acknowledgment. He delivered one final heavy punch, making Gyubin stumble back a little before catching himself.
“Not bad,” Jungkook said, pulling off one glove. “You didn’t run away.”
Gyubin straightened, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips despite his heaving breaths.
Jungkook grabbed a towel, wiped his neck, then tossed the towel onto the boy’s lap without looking. “Wipe your face before you pass out.”
Gyubin blinked, startled, then broke into a small proud grin as he used the towel.
Jungkook downed some water, then pushed the bottle toward Gyubin. “Two sips. No more.”
Gyubin obeyed instantly, holding the bottle carefully as though it were gold, and gave it back. Jungkook said nothing, already moving to reset his equipment, but the boy sat straighter on the bench, chest puffed like he’d just been promoted to something important.
“Now arrange the lightweights,” Jungkook ordered flatly, his voice leaving no room for hesitation.
Gyubin immediately hopped down from the bench, his little feet padding across the polished floor. He crouched in front of the rack, small fingers curling around the lighter dumbbells. One by one, he started placing them in neat order, tongue poking out in concentration.
Jungkook didn’t move. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, broad shoulders tense as he leaned slightly on one leg. His sharp gaze never left the boy. Each clink of metal echoed in the room, and with every movement Gyubin made, Jungkook’s eyes followed assessing, measuring, silent.
The boy struggled with a pair slightly heavier than the rest, his thin arms wobbling, but he didn’t complain. He bit his lip and adjusted, setting them down carefully with a proud little huff.
“Straighten them,” Jungkook said, voice low, almost careless.
Gyubin quickly bent down again, realigning the handles until they were perfectly even, like soldiers in a row.
He glanced back once, shyly, to see if Jungkook approved, but the man’s face remained blank.
When he was done, Gyubin stood up, brushing his tiny palms on his shorts. He kept his eyes down, waiting.
Only then did Jungkook uncross his arms, walking over with slow, deliberate steps. He glanced over the row of dumbbells, silent for a long moment. Then his eyes flicked down to Gyubin.
“…Good enough,” he muttered, turning away.
It was a crumb of approval, but Gyubin’s chest swelled with quiet pride.
Jungkook’s gaze landed on the faint scratch across Gyubin’s knuckles. He walked over, wordless, and caught the boy’s small hand in his much larger one. Gyubin froze but didn’t pull away, his wide eyes watching as Jungkook turned his hand over, thumb grazing the cut.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Gyubin blurted quickly, trying to sound braver than he felt. “I’m strong.”
Jungkook hummed. He pulled Gyubin toward the table, ripped open a bandage, and crouched slightly to apply it. His movements were sharp, precise.
“Strong isn’t pretending nothing hurts,” Jungkook said, pressing the bandage down firmly. “Strong is knowing it hurts and still standing.”
Gyubin’s eyes softened. He nodded slowly. “…Yes, Mr.Jeon”
“Binnie.”
The soft call broke the moment. Both heads turned. Taehyung stood in the doorway, his face pale, his voice trembling as though he’d walked in on something he wasn’t ready to see.
He walked forward quickly, eyes darting to the bandage on Gyubin’s hand before flicking up to Jungkook’s gaze. “What are you doing here?” Taehyung asked, his tone clipped.
“You were asleep, appa,” Gyubin answered truthfully. “So I came here.”
Taehyung bent, snatching his son’s hand like it belonged only to him. “Didn’t I tell you before?” His voice was firmer now. “You don’t need to come here. Ever.”
He tugged Gyubin closer, already turning to lead him away when Jungkook’s voice cut through the gym like a whip.
“Tomorrow. Same time.”
Taehyung froze.
Gyubin’s head whipped back, eyes wide. “R–Really?” he asked softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Jungkook gave a short nod, gaze locked on Taehyung. His tone wasn’t a suggestion... it was a command.
Taehyung’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his grip tightening around Gyubin’s hand. “No,” he said firmly, glaring at Jungkook. “He won’t—”
But Jungkook spoke right over him, eyes narrowing. “You’ll be here. Got it?”
Gyubin hesitated, caught between his appa's sharp tone and Jungkook’s authority. His little shoulders lifted nervously. “…Yes.”
Taehyung’s breath stuttered, the control slipping from his fingers.
He said nothing more, only tightened his grip on Gyubin’s hand and pulled him toward the door. But even as they left, he could feel it... Jungkook’s stare heavy on his back, suffocating, inescapable.
They walked in the hallway, Gyubin whimpering when he felt how tight he grip was.
He wiggled in Taehyung’s grip, his little voice cracking. “Appa… you’re holding too tight. It hurts.”
Taehyung instantly let go, his eyes widening. His hand hovered over his son’s wrist as if afraid to touch.
“Oh,” he whispered, guilt rushing in. He carefully rubbed the spot with his thumb, then crouched down until they were eye-level. “I didn’t mean to. Forgive Appa.”
Gyubin blinked at him, a soft hum leaving his lips.
Taehyung swallowed, hesitation breaking through before he spoke again.
“Binnie… do you like him more than Appa now?” His voice was low, almost trembling, like he hated himself for even asking. It was too immature and he was aware of that but...
Sharing his son with anyone else especially Jungkook left an ache he couldn’t swallow.
Gyubin tilted his head, confused at first. Then his little brows furrowed as he saw how worried his appa looked. Without a word, he leaned forward, wrapping his small arms around Taehyung’s neck.
“Don’t say things like that,” he mumbled, burying his face into Taehyung’s shoulder. “I love you the most. More than anyone. Only my Appa.”
Taehyung’s lips parted, his chest tightening. He hugged his son back, his eyes stinging.
“And…” Gyubin added, pulling back just enough to look at him with wide eyes, “if you don’t want, then I won’t play with Mr. Jeon. I’ll just stay with you all the time."
Taehyung’s heart swelled and cracked at the same time. He smiled, shaking his head gently as he cupped his son’s cheeks. “No, sweetheart. Why would Appa stop you from doing something you enjoy? Of course you’ll go.”
He kissed Gyubin’s forehead softly, whispering, “As long as my Binnie is happy, Appa is happy too.”
A small giggle left Gyubin’s lips as he clung to him tighter, nodding.
Taehyung rose to his feet, holding his son’s hand more gently this time. His heart felt lighter now, each step toward their room filled not with fear, but warmth.
From afar, Jungkook stood silently, a protein shake in his hand, half-forgotten. His body leaned casually against the frame of the gym doorway, but his eyes… they were fixed.
Taehyung knelt, his face softened, his hand brushing Gyubin’s cheek. The boy laughed quietly, small arms wrapping around his appa’s neck with absolute trust. No fear. No hesitation. Just pure love.
Jungkook felt the bottle cool against his palm, his thumb tracing the condensation without thinking. Thirty-seven years of life, and yet... he had never seen anything like this. Something so untouched. So simple. So… innocent.
He tilted the bottle and drank, though the taste barely registered. His gaze lingered. He couldn’t look away. Not from the way Taehyung’s hardened edges melted in front of the boy, not from the way Gyubin’s tiny hands clung as if Taehyung were the safest place in the world.
A quiet exhale escaped Jungkook. He didn’t even realize his grip on the bottle had tightened until the plastic crumpled slightly. The sound made him blink, pulling him back.
He looked away finally, eyes darkening as if to hide the unfamiliar warmth threatening to surface. Without a word, he turned, his steps measured, the faint thud of the bottle hitting the trash the only trace of his presence.
The door to his own room clicked shut behind him. But the scene lingered. Burned into him. A piece of innocence his world had never allowed and for the first time, Jungkook wasn’t sure if he wanted to chase it away or… get closer.
.
.
.
It was evening when Seokjin entered the Jeon Mansion, accompanied by an important figure from their business circle. Jung Hoseok.
Jungkook descended the staircase, impeccably dressed, every step measured, every glance precise. The guest’s eyes lingered on him, captivated by the authority he radiated.
Seokjin, however, remained composed, letting his gaze drift toward the corridor where Taehyung’s room was. He paused for a moment, silently hoping for a glimpse, though none came.
“Good evening,” Hoseok said, his voice smooth but firm, pulling Seokjin from his thoughts.
“Good evening,” Jungkook replied, extending his hand. “I’m glad you could make it.”
They shook hands, then moved to the leather couch. Hoseok settled in, exuding calm authority.
“I thought it would be better to discuss this in person rather than over emails or calls,” Hoseok said.
“Agreed,” Jungkook said, folding his hands in front of him. “Seokjin mentioned your products... high performance, reliable, and efficient.
That aligns with our upcoming line.”
Hoseok nodded. “Exactly. And we’ve made some improvements I think you’ll be interested in. Fuel efficiency without compromising torque or power output.”
Seokjin leaned forward slightly. “If we move forward with this, the integration timeline has to be precise. Any delay could affect both our production schedules.”
“Understood,” Hoseok replied. “We can meet those deadlines. We’ve already run simulations, and the results are promising.”
Seokjin’s eyes briefly flicked toward the corridor again, though he didn’t acknowledge it. His focus returned immediately to the discussion, but the faint tightening of his jaw betrayed a flicker of distraction.
The meeting went on smoothly. Hoseok was visibly pleased... this collaboration was exactly what he had hoped for, and the deal was now finalized.
“I think we should announce this as a celebration,” Hoseok suggested, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile.
Seokjin nodded in agreement. “This weekend, then.”
Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement.
The three of them sipped their coffee, chatting casually about lighter topics when soft giggles drifted down the hall.
Gyubin appeared, tiptoeing out of the corridor, clutching his bunny plushie, giggling mischievously. His eyes sparkled as he glanced back at his appa, who was already huffing and waving his hands.
“Don’t make me run so much, Binnie,” Taehyung called, exasperated.
But Gyubin ignored him, grinning as he took a few more steps forward until he froze. His wide eyes took in the three imposing men in front of him, their presence enough to make his small body stiffen.
The plushie hugged tight to his chest, he whispered to himself, “Uh-oh…”
Taehyung hurried forward, reaching for him, but Jungkook’s sharp, watchful gaze lingered on the boy, calm yet commanding, making Gyubin hesitate even more.
Hoseok’s eyes softened slightly as he observed the scene, a faint curiosity in his gaze. Seokjin’s eyes, however, lingered on Taehyung, his thoughts unreadable.
Taehyung felt the weight of that gaze, and his stomach tightened. He looked down, remembering the confession that was made earlier, the words echoing in his mind.
“I apologize for the disturbance,” Taehyung said, voice soft but steady, bowing slightly.
Hoseok leaned forward, curiosity piqued. “And… who are they?”
“They are—” Seokjin started, but Jungkook’s deep, commanding voice cut through the room effortlessly.
“They are mine.” Jungkook said, eyes dark and fixed on Taehyung.
Seokjin blinked, momentarily taken aback by the absolute certainty in Jungkook’s tone. Taehyung’s stomach twisted, heart hammering, as the words sank in.
They are mine… The possessiveness, the raw domestic claim... it was both frightening and grounding.
Gyubin, oblivious to the tension, tugged gently at Taehyung’s sleeve, and the younger man’s hand instinctively went to his son’s back, steadying him.
Jungkook’s gaze lingered, unwavering, as if marking territory, leaving no doubt about his claim.
Taehyung’s grip on Gyubin remained firm as he turned, bowing once more out of habit, out of courtesy, before stepping away. His heart thudded in his chest, the weight of Jungkook’s possessive words still settling heavily on his mind.
As he walked past Seokjin, their eyes met for a fleeting second. Seokjin’s gaze lingered longer than expected, warm and curious, almost searching, as if he was trying to understand the quiet storm of emotions flickering across Taehyung’s face.
Taehyung felt a strange tug in his chest but quickly averted his eyes, forcing himself to focus on his steps.
.
.
.
It was late. The kitchen sat in half-darkness, shadows spilling across the counters. Taehyung reached into the fridge for a bottle of water, the chill biting into his fingers.
He stilled. A presence lingered behind him, heavy and deliberate. He turned around and a sound of dread escaped him when he saw the CEO standing there casually hands in his pocket.
“What… what do you want?” His voice trembled, barely louder than the hum of the fridge.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Jungkook answered, casual, almost careless yet his tone carried weight.
Taehyung swallowed hard, setting the bottle down on the counter with shaky hands. His heart thudded violently as Jungkook closed the distance, his body heat brushing too close. In a single step, Taehyung was cornered, the counter hard against his back.
“I’m tired… I should go,” Taehyung muttered, shifting sideways, but Jungkook’s arm came up, palm flat against the counter, trapping him effortlessly.
Their eyes locked dark against wide, unsteady ones. Jungkook’s stare was unrelenting, almost dissecting him.
Then, without warning, Jungkook caught Taehyung’s wrist, lifting his hand. His eyes flicked down.
“Where’s your ring?” His voice dropped low, edged, a quiet demand.
Taehyung faltered, fumbling at his pocket until he pulled the small band free. He held it up weakly. Jungkook plucked it from his fingers, curling his fist around it like it belonged to him.
“Why weren’t you wearing it?”
“I… told you it’s too tight. You said it didn’t matter if—”
“Too tight?” Jungkook cut him off, leaning in, his lips grazing the shell of Taehyung’s ear.
“I’ll make it fit.” His whisper was heat and steel at once, breath ghosting across Taehyung’s skin.
Taehyung’s breath stuttered, his chest tightening as his pulse tripped over itself. Jungkook’s gaze burned into him possessive, unwavering
“Huh…” Taehyung breathed, confused, as Jungkook's hand shot out beside him and pulled the freezer door open.
The sudden clink of ice made him tense. Before he could turn, a shocking cold pressed against his neck. He jerked, breath catching, unable to see what Jungkook was doing behind him.
Then.... crash.
A solid block of ice hit the floor, splintering into shards. Taehyung yelped, stumbling back, eyes darting to the glittering fragments scattered across the tiles.
Jungkook said nothing. He swept the jagged pieces toward the wall with the side of his foot, his movements calm, almost lazy.
Then he reached into the freezer again, this time pulling out smaller cubes.
His hand shot out, seizing Taehyung’s wrist. Before Taehyung could react, Jungkook pressed the ice into his palm, curling his fingers shut around it. The chill sank deep, biting cruelly.
“Leave,” Taehyung whispered, his voice trembling as the sting burned through his skin.
But Jungkook only tightened his grip, keeping Taehyung’s hand sealed shut, forcing him to endure the freeze. "I said–" Taehyung couldn't even complete the sentence.
When in one fluid motion, he was shoved back until his spine met the wall. Taehyung winced as the shards beneath his bare feet crunched, the edges cutting against his skin.
He whimpered softly, caught between the burn of cold in his hand and the sting of ice shards underfoot, Jungkook’s presence towering over him.
“Staring at another man… when your husband is right in front of you?” Jungkook’s voice was low, venom laced with heat.
He squeezed Taehyung’s hand tighter around the melting ice, forcing a whimper past his lips. Taehyung’s knuckles blanched, his breath trembling.
"I-I wasn't staring–"
Jungkook leaned in, his mouth ghosting dangerously close to Taehyung’s neck, the warmth of his breath clashing with the icy burn searing Taehyung’s palm.
"Eyes wandering a little too much, yeah? Should I remind you who you belong to?” Jungkook whispered, the words a cruel caress.
Taehyung bit back a sound, his chest heaving as the cold drilled into his skin, pain and heat tangling until he couldn’t tell them apart.
Jungkook’s grip didn’t loosen... instead, it pressed harder, his lips brushing against Taehyung’s throat, savoring his helpless reaction.
“It hurts…” Taehyung hissed, trying to pull back, but Jungkook’s body pressed flush against him, cutting off every escape.
Jungkook’s foot came down over his, grinding him against the shards on the floor. Taehyung cried out, his whole body jolting at the sting.
“Good,” Jungkook muttered flatly, his gaze locked on him. “Maybe now you’ll learn not to look anywhere else.”
Taehyung whimpered, his breath shaking.
Jungkook’s grip on his icy hand tightened, forcing him to hold it closed until the skin burned. “One glance, and you forget who’s in front of you?” His tone was sharp, unfeeling, like an accusation carved into stone.
Taehyung shook his head frantically, but Jungkook only smirked, his voice a low edge against his ear.
“Keep your eyes where they belong. On me. Always.” he said and Taehyung gritted his teeth having enough of it already.
Then Jungkook’s other hand slid down the curve of Taehyung’s back, settling on his ass.
“What is your problem?” Taehyung snapped, finally twisting against him, desperate to break free.
Jungkook’s smirk widened. His hand squeezed harshly, dragging Taehyung flush against his chest. Taehyung pushed, struggling with all his strength, but Jungkook didn’t move an inch.
“My problem?” Jungkook drawled, tilting his head as if genuinely considering it. His grip tightened, nails biting through fabric.
“I can’t sleep without seeing that fear in your eyes.” His voice was quiet, cruel every word deliberate. “That’s my problem… Taehyung.”
The way he said his name, like he was tasting it made Taehyung shiver violently. His heart hammered against his ribs, panic spiking through his chest.
Jungkook caught the reaction instantly. He looked amused.
Taehyung drew in a shaky breath, his cheeks burning with a mix of residual ice-cold sting and the heat of embarrassment, before mumbling, “My hand… it hurts. A lot… just… let go.”
For a long moment, Jungkook’s gaze stayed fixed on him, dark, and almost intrigued.
Finally, slowly, Jungkook released him.
Taehyung’s fingers unfurled cautiously, trembling slightly, revealing angry red marks etched across his skin. Each line throbbed with pain, but also with the memory of Jungkook’s merciless grip.
Jungkook’s eyes glinted with darker satisfaction. Taehyung’s stomach twisted. The way Jungkook looked at him made him feel simultaneously small, exposed, and entirely claimed.
Before Taehyung could step back, Jungkook’s arm snaked around his waist, pulling him away from the scattered shards on the floor.
Taehyung’s palms flew instinctively to Jungkook’s chest, pressing against the solid wall of him, trying in vain to create space. But Jungkook didn’t budge.
The ring appeared in Jungkook’s hand again, glinting in the dim kitchen light. His grip was firm, unwavering, as he caught Taehyung’s trembling, swollen, numb finger.
The sight of his hand red, bruised, yet still offering itself made a shiver run down Taehyung’s spine.
“Now… it’ll fit.” Jungkook said, voice low, almost playful, almost cruel, as if he were savoring every reaction he was about to provoke.
Taehyung sucked in a sharp, uneven breath as the band slid against his skin, cold and merciless, burning as it pressed over the swelling and marks. A hiss escaped his lips involuntarily, but Jungkook didn’t falter. He pressed it fully into place.
For the first time, Taehyung realized he wasn’t being tricked into wearing the ring with wine. This time, his husband was forcing it on him, mercilessly, and fully aware of the sting it would leave behind.
Taehyung’s teeth clenched as he glared at Jungkook, frustration, pain, and an odd flutter of something else roiling together inside him. He tried to pull back, but Jungkook’s gaze pinned him, unwavering, as if daring him to defy it.
Jungkook leaned slightly closer, studying him with cold amusement, and murmured flatly, “Your finger’s too numb to feel the pain.”
Taehyung’s lips parted, voice breaking but stubborn, a mixture of defiance and trembling. “Just like I am.”
“Just like you are…” Jungkook repeated, softer this time, almost contemplative, letting the words settle, letting them hang heavy between them.
Taehyung felt a shiver run down his spine not entirely from cold or pain but from the sheer intensity of being so completely seen, so completely possessed.
Finally, Jungkook stepped back, the pressure of his body lifting but leaving a lingering ache in Taehyung’s chest. His gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, dark and sharp.
“This… should never come out.” Jungkook said quietly, his voice low, a warning wrapped in steel.
Taehyung’s fingers instinctively brushed over his hand, over the red marks left behind. He nodded, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s gaze.
Jungkook watched him noting how small and fragile he looked in that moment how completely undone he seemed, despite every effort to stand tall.
A slow exhale left Jungkook’s lips. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, a mix of frustration and satisfaction before turning away.
Without another word, he left, the faint echo of his steps fading into the night. Taehyung remained standing there, rooted in place, fingers still pressed to the marks on his skin, surrounded by the scattered shards of ice.
He exhaled shakily, trying to steady his racing heartbeat, but even as he looked down at the shards glittering around him, he knew something had shifted irreversibly.
The possessiveness of this CEO.