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In the last chapter I blocked 8–10 people one of them was the most annoying ever. Some of you even wrote the ending in your heads, like Taehyung forgiving Jungkook in five chapters. If you know it all, why are you still here?
I’ve warned about the angst. Don’t chew my brain with nasty comments. If you don’t like it, leave quietly. No need to fckin announce your departure. You ain't some iconic shit.
I don’t care if the views drop, read counts mean nothing to me. I just want to write in peace. If you find my profile randomly vanishing one day just assume those airheads pissed me off real bad.
??Warning- bdsm themes??
Third Person Pov
Hope was a cursed thing. It lured you forward, made you wake up every day, whispering that things could change, that pain wouldn’t last forever.
But when hope was shattered when the one fragile thread holding you upright was snapped nothing could touch you anymore. Not grief. Not anger. Not even life itself. Everything dulled into a kind of living death.
For Taehyung, Gyubin had been that hope.
When his sister died, the world had gone grey, but Gyubin had been the small flicker of color that refused to go out.
The boy’s laughter, his tiny hands reaching for him, the warmth of his sleepy “Appa” at night.
.. those things had become Taehyung’s anchor to reality.
His reason to breathe when breathing hurt.
People might whisper, “He’s only your sister’s son, why are you so attached?” But they didn’t understand. How could they? Blood didn’t decide love. Raising someone did. Protecting them did. Being their everything when no one else would did.
It was like planting a peony seed in barren soil.
You water it, shield it from harsh winds, pull away weeds with your bare hands until your fingers bleed.
You wait. Days, months, years. You watch it grow first a trembling sprout, then a tender stem and every moment you nurture it, it becomes less of a plant and more of a piece of your soul.
And then one day, just as it begins to bloom, someone walks in, rips it out of the earth, and carries it away.
No care. No thought. Just gone. The soil is left bare.
Your hands are left empty. And the worst part?
The peony doesn’t even know it’s been stolen.
It doesn’t know who tore it away, or why.
Gyubin was Taehyung’s peony. His reason to endure the contract, the humiliation, the cold words. Every insult from the CEO, every sleepless night, every bruise he swallowed down, he bore them silently, because Gyubin deserved a better life. Because he had promised to make sure Gyubin had one.
And now Jungkook had taken him. Made him a Jeon. With a signature written in a moment of vulnerability, Taehyung’s whole world had been stripped from him. Gyubin wasn’t even aware of anything... how could a seven-year-old child know how cruel people could be?
The house around Taehyung felt like a stranger’s home now.
Its walls were heavy with silence, its air thick with betrayal.
He sat in his room, hours passing without him noticing, eyes fixed on nothing.
His hands trembled in his lap, clutching at invisible threads, as if holding on to the life that had already slipped through his fingers.
For the first time since Gyubin was born, Taehyung didn’t know why he was breathing. The boy who had been his heartbeat was gone, and with him, the last piece of hope Taehyung had clung to.
The soft breeze slipped in through the half-open window, brushing against Taehyung’s skin like a whisper.
He sat on the cold floor, knees folded tight to his chest, his arms wrapped around them as if they were the only thing holding him together.
His gaze was fixed on the glass pane, but he wasn’t seeing the sky outside, only the hollow echo of his own thoughts.
Then, the faintest movement. Small, warm hands slid over his trembling ones. Taehyung blinked, startled, and slowly looked up.
Gyubin stood there, wide-eyed and innocent, his tiny frame wrapped in the quiet light of the afternoon. He tilted his head, and without a word, he settled onto Taehyung’s lap like it was the most natural place in the world.
“Appa…” The word was whispered, fragile, almost questioning.
A sound caught in Taehyung’s throat. He hummed faintly, forcing himself to hold Gyubin close, his hand instinctively rubbing the boy’s small back.
“Appa, you seem sad,” Gyubin said, his voice carrying nothing but purity, his round eyes gazing up at Taehyung as if trying to read his heart.
Taehyung’s lips parted, but no words came out. He just stared, staring at those eyes the same eyes that had given him reason to live. He tried… he really tried to blink away the wetness threatening to spill, to be strong for the child who had never seen him falter.
But then Gyubin’s tiny hands cupped his face, so gentle, so trusting.
And the dam broke.
Tears slipped silently down Taehyung’s cheeks, trailing hot against Gyubin’s small thumbs. The boy blinked, confused but unwavering, and tried to wipe them away with clumsy swipes of his hands.
“What happened, Appa?” Gyubin whispered, so innocent, so unaware of the storm raging in the world around them.
Taehyung swallowed hard, his voice cracking into something raw, something broken.
He couldn’t answer not without shattering the fragile world Gyubin lived in.
All he could do was hold him tighter, burying his face into the boy’s shoulder as the sobs he had fought so long finally clawed their way out.
“Appa…” Gyubin whispered again, blinking fast. His little lips pressed to Taehyung’s wet cheeks, kissing away the tears clumsily.
He kissed once, twice, three times, not stopping even when new tears replaced the old.
“Don’t cry… please don’t cry… I’ll make it better, Appa. I’ll stay with you. Always.”
Taehyung’s sobs grew louder. He hated this, hated that his seven-year-old was comforting him when it should’ve been the other way around. Hated that his child was the only shield he had left in a world so cruel. Yet even in his brokenness, his arms tightened, holding Gyubin like the anchor he was.
The boy rubbed his face against Taehyung’s, his soft shaved head nuzzling into his Appa’s jaw, almost like a kitten.
He wiped at the tears with tiny thumbs, frowning deeply, whispering, “Appa, smile… when you smile, I feel warm here.” He placed a little hand over his chest, right above his racing heart.
That shattered Taehyung more than anything. His tears blurred his vision completely as he kissed the crown of Gyubin’s head again and again, whispering against his skin, “You’re all I have... binnie, you’re all I’ll ever need… don’t ever leave me, please… please don’t ever leave me.”
Gyubin nodded firmly, the way only a child could when promising something far too big. “I won’t. I’m Appa’s boy.” His voice was steady but small, and he pressed another kiss to his Appa’s lips clumsily, as if sealing the promise.
Taehyung broke again, his sobs filling the room.
His hands trembled as they cradled the back of Gyubin’s head, his lips lingering on the soft crown.
He whispered through the tears, voice raw, “You saved me, binnie. When everyone else left… when the world turned cruel… you kept me–me alive. You-You kept me breathing.”
The boy didn’t understand fully, but he understood enough. So he held tighter, his little heart pounding against Taehyung’s chest, whispering, “I-I love you, Appa. Don’t be sad. I’ll protect you.”
And for a moment, in that suffocating darkness, with his son’s small arms wrapped tightly around him, Taehyung felt a fragile piece of light. It wasn’t enough to heal. But it was enough to make the next breath possible.
.
.
.
The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of Gyubin’s breathing, his small chest rising and falling as he slept soundly, one tiny hand curled tightly around the fabric of Taehyung’s shirt.
His little arm was draped across his stomach possessively, as if even in sleep he was afraid his Appa might disappear.
Daisy was sprawled out on her tiny blanket on the floor, her soft purrs barely audible, a fragile reminder that life could still be gentle somewhere.
But for Taehyung, sleep was nowhere to be found.
His eyes, swollen from hours of crying, stared blankly at the ceiling above.
The shadows of the night stretched across the room, bending and shifting with the breeze that slipped through the slightly open window.
He lay there, rigid, hollow, the weight of Gyubin’s small warmth pressed against him both a comfort and a knife to the heart.
He should’ve felt peace. He should’ve felt gratitude for the child holding him as though he were the only thing that mattered. But his chest ached with something darker something that refused to ease.
Jungkook. Always Jungkook. Even in absence, the man’s shadow filled the room, filled his veins, poisoned every thought until Taehyung could barely breathe.
He hadn’t seen him all day. Not a sound, not a glimpse. A part of him was relieved relieved to be spared the storm of those cold eyes and dangerous words. But another part… another part sat in restless unease, wondering what kind of new cruelty Jungkook would carve out when he returned.
If this were a real marriage, Taehyung thought bitterly, he would have been happy. He would have cherished it. He would have poured every bit of his heart into building a family, into building a life where Gyubin could laugh freely, where Taehyung could finally rest.
But fate was cruel, too cruel, binding him to a man who didn’t know how to love, who only knew how to chain and break. And now...now he had no way out.
Jungkook had made sure of that. Every option stripped away. Every chance to breathe, snatched. His freedom dangled in front of him like a cruel joke, but always just out of reach.
Taehyung’s throat tightened, but no tears came. He was emptied. All cried out. His body trembled faintly, but his face remained blank, lifeless. The only sign of life left in him was the occasional blink of his swollen eyes.
His son was warm against him, trusting, innocent.
Gyubin, who didn’t know how cruel the world could be.
Gyubin, who still thought love was safe, who still thought Appa could protect him from everything.
The boy who had become his anchor, his only reason to endure.
And now, Jungkook wanted to snatch even that away
He did not think of Jungkook anymore not as a husband, not even as a man. Only as a cage. A cage that would keep tightening until there was no air left to breathe.
His lips parted slightly, a whisper slipping out into the dark, broken and hoarse, though Gyubin couldn’t hear.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this…”
The words vanished into the night, fragile and unheard. He didn’t dare say them louder. Because saying them meant accepting that maybe just maybe he was reaching his end.
His hand, trembling, brushed Gyubin’s little back gently, his eyes fixed on the ceiling with a hollowness that felt infinite. No more tears. No more fight.
Just the silent ache of a man stripped of everything, holding onto the one thing he had left with the last threads of his strength.
The night stretched on endlessly, heavy and merciless, as Taehyung lay away alone, yet not alone. Alive, yet not living.
For a moment, he hesitated, his throat tightening with guilt, with fear, with the ache of what he was about to do. Then, with a trembling exhale, he slowly uncurled the boy’s fingers from his own.
Gyubin shifted in his sleep but didn’t wake. Daisy purred softly on the blanket.
Taehyung stood.
Every step felt heavier than the last as he crossed to the cupboard. He opened it quietly, careful not to make a sound, pulling out what he needed with hands that shook but never faltered. He closed it again, shut the door, as if sealing away a part of himself.
The washroom mirror reflected a hollow man.
He placed the items on the counter with mechanical precision, the way one lays out weapons before a battle they know they cannot win. His fingers worked silently, undoing the buttons of his shirt.
The fabric slipped off his shoulders, pooling at his feet. For a second, his eyes caught on the ink etched into his waist.
Jeon Jungkook.
The mark that wasn’t his choice. The mark that bound him. He looked at it, lips parting slightly as if to scoff, but no sound came. He just… looked away. Ignored it.
His pants followed, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Vulnerable. Stripped. A canvas waiting to be painted over.
He picked up the black silk shirt and slipped it on. The fabric was cool against his skin, sliding down his frame and stopping mid-thigh exposing just enough.
Then, the bag.
He had never touched it before. Never needed to. Never wanted to. But tonight, he told himself, was different.
The concealer. He dabbed it under his eyes, covering the shadows that spoke of endless nights of tears and torment. He blended it until the evidence of his exhaustion vanished.
Next came the eyeliner. His hand was steady despite the hollowness inside. He drew it in a single sharp line, darkening his gaze, making it more striking. His reflection was changing... not Taehyung the father, not Taehyung the broken man. Something else. Something crafted.
A tinted balm followed, bringing color back to his lips. He spread it blankly, eyes unfocused, movements mechanical.
Then the perfume, a sharp, intoxicating scent that clung to his skin. He sprayed it twice, the air filling with a sweetness that made him feel sick.
His fingers brushed through his hair, combing it neatly into place just like the CEO liked. He clipped on the silver earrings, buckled the black choker around his throat.
When he finally lifted his head to look at himself again, the man in the mirror was unrecognizable. Not Kim Taehyung. Not Gyubin’s appa. Just a beautiful shell wrapped in silk and shadows.
A doll.
“A playdoll,” he whispered to the reflection, his voice flat. His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “Now I look perfect. Just like he says… a playdoll.”
The words dripped with mockery, but his stomach knotted until it hurt to breathe.
He slipped on a long black robe, pulling it loosely over the silk shirt. His hand lingered on the doorknob. For a moment, his eyes flicked back toward the room, to the small figure curled on the bed.
Gyubin was still sleeping, chest rising and falling peacefully, unaware of the war his appa was fighting.
Taehyung swallowed hard, forcing the ache down. He turned the knob and stepped out into the corridor. His head remained lowered, his footsteps steady but empty. His eyes, blank.
And slowly, silently, he walked upstairs. Toward the CEO’s bedroom.
The corridor stretched ahead of him like an endless tunnel, yet Taehyung felt nothing.
No fear, no rush of blood, no trembling anticipation.
His body moved because it had to. His heart…
it had long since stopped racing. What else was left to fear?
What worse thing could possibly happen now, when he had already endured everything a man could be broken by?
So he just walked. Silent steps echoing against the marble.
His shadow stretched and shrank with each dim light he passed.
At the end, he stilled, staring at the door.
His hand rose, fingers resting on the knob, cold metal pressing into his skin.
For a moment, there was no thought. No voice inside him.
Just a strange emptiness, a numb acceptance.
And then he turned it.
The latch clicked, and the door opened.
The room was dimly lit, warm tones from a single lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The faint scent of smoke and expensive liquor lingered in the air.
Jungkook sat sprawled in an armchair, his legs stretched onto the low table in front of him. His head leaned back against the leather, dark strands of hair falling over his closed eyes. His chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically, as though he had just sat down and let exhaustion swallow him.
But Taehyung’s gaze didn’t linger on the CEO’s posture. It caught on the stark white of the bandages wrapped around Jungkook’s arm, the fabric pulling slightly at his shirt sleeve.
He stood still, framed in the doorway, watching the man who had reduced him to this. His breath shallow. His robe hanging loose over silk. His painted eyes blank.
Then he stepped in and shut the door behind him. The click of the lock echoed softly in the silence.
Jungkook stirred, lashes fluttering as his eyes opened. The deep brown sharpened into clarity, then stilled when they fell on the figure across the room.
Taehyung.
Draped in black. A robe falling open just enough to reveal the gleam of silk underneath. His choker glinting faintly under the lamplight. His lips tinted, eyes lined dark. A vision crafted, perfect, lifeless.
Jungkook straightened slightly, arms falling from the chair rests.
His gaze dragged over Taehyung, slow, heavy, like he was trying to place the version of the man standing before him.
His expression didn’t give anything away but something in his eyes flickered, the way a flame does when the wind teases it.
And Taehyung… he simply stared back.
No smile. No words. No flinch. Just hollow eyes holding his gaze as though waiting, as though daring.
The silence stretched, heavy enough to suffocate.
Jungkook’s gaze sharpened as the silence fractured with his voice, low and cold, a blade slicing through still air.
“What are you doing here?”
The words weren’t curious. They weren’t kind. They were sharp, dismissive, as though Taehyung had intruded into a place he didn’t belong.
Taehyung’s throat tightened, but no words slipped free at first. He just tugged the silk robe tighter around himself, fingers curling at the fabric as if clinging to something that wasn’t even there. Slowly, his feet carried him forward until he stood directly in front of Jungkook.
The CEO didn’t move. His arms rested on the chair, his bandaged hand catching faint light, his dark eyes unreadable.
Taehyung swallowed, the words burning his tongue, scorching his pride, yet he let them fall. “I’m here to serve you.”
The admission stung, each syllable tearing something out of him. But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t cry. He just said it, as if the words themselves were a sentence.
Jungkook’s stare was steady, unblinking, a predator simply waiting to see what his prey would do next.
And then Taehyung’s fingers moved. He tugged at the robe. The fabric slipped off his shoulders, pooling silently at his feet.
Jungkook’s eyes followed the fall.
The black silk shirt clinging to Taehyung’s frame, cut just short enough to expose pale thighs.
His chest visible through half-buttoned silk.
The choker snug against his throat. His lips tinted faintly red, parted only slightly.
His eyes darkened by kohl, shining with a hollow emptiness.
Earrings catching the dim light like shards of glass.
Jungkook clenched his jaw. His hand twitched once, then stilled.
Taehyung stepped closer, and then lowered himself. Slowly, deliberately, until he was on his knees before him. The carpet pricked at his skin, but he didn’t move. His gaze tilted upward, blank and unflinching.
“I’m here to do what you want… what you’ve always wanted from me.” His voice was low, mechanical, like a man reciting his own fate. “I’ve accepted everything.”
His hands rose, pale against the black of Jungkook’s trousers, resting gently on his thighs. His fingertips dragged along the fabric, tracing lines without life, without hesitation.
“I’ll do everything you ask me to do,” Taehyung continued, his voice breaking just enough to sound human, yet too flat to sound alive.
His fingers slid higher, brushing over the crease of the fabric, lingering by the zipper.
He lifted his gaze, eyes shining with something raw, pain disguised as surrender, pride stripped into ashes.
“Everything.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
And then his voice broke into a whisper, bitter and cruel against himself.
““I’ll be exactly what you said I am… a toy. A body. A plaything.” His lips curved in a broken, humorless smile. “I’ll let you break me piece by piece until there’s nothing left.”
He swallowed, his throat tight, but he forced the words out anyway.
“Use me until you’re satisfied. Until you’re bored. Until you finally throw me away like trash. I won’t stop you anymore.”
His gaze locking onto Jungkook’s. His eyes shone wet, rimmed with kohl, the gloss of unshed tears turning them almost feverish.
His fingers pressed faintly against the zipper. His lips trembled as he forced the words out.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
His eyes fixed on Jungkook’s empty, shattering, daring him to answer.
Jungkook’s fingers closed around Taehyung’s jaw, not just holding but claiming, the pressure forcing his head back until their eyes met. His voice was a low rasp, like a threat hidden under velvet.
“Do you even understand what you’re asking for?” he murmured, eyes locked on Taehyung’s trembling mouth.
Taehyung’s answer was a breath more than a sound. “I do.”
Jungkook’s thumb traced the edge of his lips slowly, as if testing the softness before bruising it. He leaned down, his breath hot against Taehyung’s ear.
“Until I’m bored, yeah?”
Taehyung’s voice was barely a hum. “Yeah.”
Jungkook’s mouth curved, dark amusement flickering. His lips grazed the shell of Taehyung’s ear, his whisper soft but cold enough to burn.
“And what if I never get bored?”
He kissed a line along Taehyung’s jaw, a kiss that felt like a shiver and a threat at once.
“Would you let me use you for the rest of your life?”
Taehyung’s stomach lurched; his voice was a faint tremor. “You’ll… you’ll get bored of me soon.”
Jungkook drew back, a slow predatory movement, fingers still pinning Taehyung’s face. His eyes were dark, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile.
His thumb brushed over Taehyung’s lip again, pressing just enough to part them.
Then he dragged the pad of his finger across, slow and deliberate, collecting the tint of the balm. He raised it to his tongue, tasting it, a flick of his eyes back to Taehyung as he did.
“Sweet,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, like a verdict. “You make yourself look like a doll for me and still think I’ll ever let you go.”
He leaned in close, his nose brushing Taehyung’s, his breath a whisper of heat.
“Careful,.” His voice dropped lower. “When you hand yourself over like this… there’s no going back.”
“I’m not here to step back,” Taehyung whispered, his voice steady but his chest burning. His eyes didn’t flinch from Jungkook’s.
For a long moment, Jungkook said nothing. He simply stared, his jaw tight, his gaze sharp and unreadable.
Then, without warning, his hand pressed down on the crown of Taehyung’s head, forcing him lower… lower… until his forehead hit the cold floor.
“Stay like that.”
The words cut like iron shackles.
Taehyung’s jaw clenched, his breath uneven against the floor, humiliation spreading like fire in his veins. He didn’t move. He didn’t dare.
Jungkook stepped back. His shadow shifted, long and sharp against the dim light, before disappearing toward the far side of the room. The faint creak of a drawer opening filled the silence. A metallic sound followed... the low, unmistakable rattle of a chain.
Taehyung’s eyes widened against the floor.
The room was dim, shadows stretching across the walls as Taehyung stayed kneeling, forehead pressed against the ground, heart thudding in his chest. Silence hung thick, broken only by the faint creak of footsteps.
Jungkook returned, his presence electric, commanding.
In his hand gleamed a black leash, simple but ominous.
“Up,” he said, voice low, resonant, carrying both authority and a dangerous edge. Taehyung’s stomach dropped. His body stiffened, but he obeyed, straighteninb shakily as Jungkook looped the leash around his neck. Every step Jungkook took pulled him closer, guiding him.
Taehyung’s pulse hammered as the CEO’s grip tightened, tugging him forward.
“Crawl like the wildcat you are,” Jungkook murmured, almost casual, yet every word carried weight. The younger swallowed hard, feeling every muscle tense under the subtle but firm control.
He could do nothing but crawl, limbs trembling, breath shallow, mind spinning from a mix of fear, anticipation, and something far darker.
Jungkook stopped in front of the bed, tugging up Taehyung until he sat, the leash taut. “Sit,” he commanded again, and Taehyung did, legs folded, back straight, eyes lowered. Jungkook circled him like a shadow, inspecting him, each glance a silent evaluation.
The flickering light from the room caught the sharp line of his jaw, the intense focus in his eyes.
From the nightstand, Jungkook picked up a candle and lighter. His movements were , teasingly slow, giving Taehyung time to anticipate....to fear.
The flame danced, casting a golden glow over Taehyung’s tense body. Jungkook’s gaze flicked up, locking with Taehyung’s wide, nervous eyes.
Then the first drop fell. Molten wax hit Taehyung’s thigh with a sharp sting, and a hiss escaped his lips.
He bit his bottom lip hard, trying to keep quiet, but the pain mixed with something else heat, vulnerability, and the raw intensity of Jungkook watching him so closely.
“Good,” Jungkook murmured, leaning closer, fingers brushing lightly along the trail of wax. “Every reaction… every shiver… I see it all.”
Another drop fell.
Taehyung’s breath caught, his hips jerking slightly at the sting. His hands gripped the edge of the bed as he tried to steady himself. Jungkook’s thumb traced the line of wax slowly, and Taehyung’s chest fluttered uncontrollably.
“You’re mine,” Jungkook whispered, voice soft yet commanding, hovering near Taehyung’s neck “Every bit belongs to me.”
Taehyung’s knees threatened to give out. He bit down on his lip, heart pounding, unable to tear his gaze away from the candle, from Jungkook, from the danger and heat coiled in the room. Another drop fell, and he hissed again, the sting biting into his flesh, his body betraying him.
Jungkook leaned in, lips brushing Taehyung’s neck lightly, sending a shiver down his spine. “You feel every second, don’t you?” he murmured. “Every touch, every burn… it’s all proof. Proof that you’re mine.”
Taehyung stayed seated, chest rising and falling, hands gripping the sheets, breath shallow. His mind screamed, but his body obeyed, trembling under
Jungkook’s intense scrutiny. Every drop of wax, every flicker of the flame, every whisper of the CEO’s voice pushed him closer to the edge of fear and something dangerously intoxicating.
And yet… Jungkook didn’t rush. He didn’t touch him in the way Taehyung had expected.
He simply watched, controlled, savoring the tension, the way Taehyung shivered under the heat, the way his lips trembled as he tried to bite back a sound.
“Stay,” Jungkook finally whispered, voice silk over steel. “Feel it. Remember it. This… all of this… is yours to survive.”
"Y-yes..." Taehyung swallowed, jaw tight, body on fire, utterly exposed, yet powerless to look away.
Jungkook’s fingers pressed into Taehyung’s mouth, commanding, “Suck.”
Taehyung obeyed automatically, his lips trembling, eyes fluttering shut as the older man’s fingers grazed the back of his throat.
The wax continued to drip onto his thighs, each drop a sharp sting against his skin, but he didn’t flinch he couldn’t. His body trembled, tears threatening to spill, as he tried to focus on the command, on the overwhelming presence of Jungkook above him.
“Deeper,” Jungkook murmured, voice low and dangerous. He pushed his fingers further, forcing Taehyung to gag slightly, his throat burning. The younger whimpered, but he didn’t resist, not fully. Not now.
Jungkook finally pulled his fingers out and, without breaking eye contact, dragged the sticky residue from Taehyung’s thighs with the same fingers.
He knelt before him, lips pressing into the reddened skin, sucking and kissing the pain away.
Taehyung’s body shook uncontrollably, hands gripping Jungkook’s collar as he whispered, voice breaking, “You’re… sick…”
“I never pretended to be sane.” Jungkook muttered back, voice low, almost tender in its darkness, his tongue tracing the skin, gripping Taehyung’s other thigh possessively.
Taehyung’s breath hitched..
In sheer desperation, he fisted Jungkook’s collar so tightly his knuckles turned white, dragging the older man closer as though letting go would mean falling apart completely.
His entire body shook, every tremor betraying how close he was to breaking.
Hot tears streamed down his face in an endless rush, soaking through Jungkook’s shirt until the fabric clung damp to his chest.
He buried his face there like a child starved for comfort, clutching him as if Jungkook were the last fragment of warmth left in a world that had already decided he didn’t deserve any.
“Why can’t you… treat me right?” Taehyung’s voice cracked, muffled against Jungkook’s shirt. “I gave you everything. Everything I had. And still… still, I’m nothing to you!”
Jungkook froze at the words.
The question cutting deeper than anything Taehyung had ever said. He looked down, eyes dark, and for a moment, the raw pain in Taehyung’s voice seemed to reach him.
Then, impossibly, Jungkook’s voice broke the silence—fragile, uncertain, almost as if he feared the weight of his own words.
“Would you… stay, if I tried to change?”
Taehyung’s breath caught, his chest tightening so painfully it felt like his ribs might shatter.
The part of him ached to say yes, to clutch onto the flicker of hope.
But hope was a crueler poison than despair.
His answer came out as a ghost of a whisper, raw from sobs.
“If I stay… I lose myself.”
Jungkook’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more a bitter acknowledgment, resignation bleeding through. His eyes darkened, as though he’d already rehearsed this truth a thousand times.
“And if I change… I lose myself.”
Taehyung’s eyes, swollen and red, searched Jungkook’s face. “Why are you like this?” he asked, voice raw, trembling. “Why… why can’t you just… care for me?”
The answer was silence... so suffocating, so absolute, it pressed down on him like a mountain. Taehyung’s chest ached with each shallow breath, the pressure threatening to split him open. His teeth clenched, jaw trembling, as the last threads of his restraint unraveled.
With a slowness that felt both tender and tragic, he wrapped his arms around Jungkook, pressing closer as if memorizing the warmth he would never truly have.
His hand shifted upward, fingers trembling, and in the dim flicker of candlelight the ring on his finger caught the glow, its sharp edge gleaming like a secret.
This was it.
His last card.
His final grasp at control in a life where everything had been ripped from him.
He brought the ring to his lips, tongue brushing over the cold metal. The bitter tang of poison spread across his taste buds, sharp and unforgiving. His heart thundered violently in his chest, each beat a countdown.
He leaned back slightly, holding Jungkook’s gaze, cupping his face with shaking hands, and then kissed him. Not tenderly... desperately, with all the force of a man losing his world.
Jungkook groaned low in his throat, almost animalistic, and yanked Taehyung backward, onto the bed. Their mouths collided again, teeth and tongues pressing, clashing with raw, urgent need.
Jungkook’s hands roamed over Taehyung’s body, gripping his thighs hard, leaving bruises that Taehyung barely felt as he kissed back, holding onto him like he could anchor himself to reality.
His lips pressed against Jungkook’s with a force that felt like goodbye.
Tears streamed from the corners of Taehyung’s eyes even as he kissed back, gripping Jungkook’s shirt like it was his last lifeline. “I have no option left,” he thought, mind screaming while his body melted into the older’s hold. “This is the only way…”
He let Jungkook kiss him harder, deeper, memorizing the shape of his mouth, the weight of his hands, the smell of him.
One last time.
Taehyung’s chest rose and fell so fast it hurt, each inhale a ragged gasp, each exhale a tremor of panic. His lips still burned from the kiss.. the poison hidden in the ring now coursing through Jungkook’s veins, a silent, deadly promise. This was supposed to be his one chance. His only way out.
Jungkook froze as he got up... Taehyung straughtened up. For a moment, time stuttered. Taehyung caught a flicker of something confusion in those dark, stormy eyes.
And then… recognition. The metallic taste on Jungkook’s tongue. The faint, electric burn in his throat. He knew.
But instead of faltering, instead of collapsing, Jungkook smirked. Slow. Cold.. A smirk that didn’t reach his eyes, but promised a storm. His hand shot out, grabbing Taehyung by the waist with an iron grip. The younger’s breath hitched violently, chest pressed tight against the predator before him.
“Good try, Taehyung,” Jungkook murmured, his voice low and rough, a soft growl against the shell of Taehyung’s ear. “Very… ambitious.”
Taehyung’s wide eyes flickered with fear. “P-please… let me go,” he choked out, trembling, fingers scrabbling against the ironclad hold.
Jungkook didn’t release him. His grip only tightened, knuckles whitening. A dangerous heat burned in his chest, a fire he could barely contain, yet he towered over Taehyung like a storm waiting to break.
“Finally,” he whispered, almost a confession, “you’ve made my heart race.” His thumb pressed into the soft skin at Taehyung’s waist, slow, deliberate.
His smirk widened, but for the briefest heartbeat, there was a flash pain, fire, defiance raw and uncontained.
“P-please…” he whispered again, voice trembling now, the words barely audible over the pounding of his own heart.
Jungkook leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of Taehyung’s ear. His breath was a dangerous rasp, hot and intoxicating. “Remember what I said?” he murmured. “You leave… only when I decide. Not a second before.”
The words cut through Taehyung like a blade, sharp and unyielding. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, to escape, yet the heat of Jungkook’s body, the intensity in his gaze, held him rooted.
The poison was working Taehyung could see it, could almost feel it coiling inside Jungkook’s veins like fire but Jungkook… Jungkook didn’t falter. He didn’t break. He didn’t let go.
Then, almost impossibly, Jungkook’s voice dipped lower a whisper.
“Run,” he murmured, the word coiling in the air like smoke. “This is your only chance. No one will chase you… not tonight.” His lips curved faintly, cruelly. “I’m giving you freedom with my own hands. Don’t waste it.”
Taehyung’s tears blurred his vision. His chest heaved as if it might split apart. He stared at Jungkook, the man who had taken everything from him, the man who had broken him, now speaking the impossible: granting him freedom even as the poison twisted inside him.
Jungkook finally stepped back, his grip loosening reluctantly, fingers dragging over Taehyung’s skin in a movement that burned itself into memory.
His steps faltered once, the poison clawing at him but his gaze never wavered, never left Taehyung. “Leave,” he ordered, voice sharp, guttural, a king demanding obedience.
Jungkook’s hand found the glass of whisky on the table. He lifted it with a trembling yet purposeful motion, knuckles pale, and downed it in one scorching gulp.
The liquid burned, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t break. His jaw was set, hard, unyielding, a mask of power even as the poison tried to undo him. He slammed the glass down, eyes snapping to Taehyung.
“If I catch you again…” He tilted his head, dark amusement glinting in his eyes, a twisted smile curving his lips. “…I won’t let you go.”
The words hit Taehyung like a physical blow, heavy, final. His breath caught in his throat, fingers trembling at his sides. This was it. His one chance. His only window.
And Taehyung, tears streaking his cheeks, realized in that moment, in the face of a man poisoned, wounded, and yet unbowed... that Jungkook was terrifying beyond measure.
Terrifying because he was still in control, still magnetic, still dangerous maybe even more so than ever.
Taehyung’s lips trembled as he took a step back, eyes locked on Jungkook’s towering figure.
His chest was caving in, his ribs too tight to hold the storm of guilt, fear, and desperation breaking inside him. His throat burned with words he wasn’t ready to say, wasn’t strong enough to finish.
“I-I had no option…” he stammered, voice cracking like glass under pressure. His legs threatened to give way as his back brushed the cold wood of the door.
Jungkook didn’t chase him. He didn’t rage.
Instead, Jungkook simply dropped onto the bed, leaning back as though exhaustion had finally clawed its way into him.
His large hand dragged roughly through his dark hair, his chest rising and falling in heavy, controlled breaths.
The veins on his forearm stood taut, a dangerous reminder of the poison threading through him yet he looked untouchable, unbroken, terrifyingly alive.
Taehyung’s pulse hammered in his ears. Months with this man slammed into him all at once the stolen kiss, the nights that had felt like confessions, the way Jungkook fussed over him and dressed him up with careful hands, the ridiculous, tender moment he’d bought tiny hats for his son.
The memory of the night he almost killed the man who hurt him cut through like a knife.
Each recollection pried him open, but the pain was louder than the warmth. He knew, with a cold certainty, that Jungkook would never change. So Taehyung stepped back once, twice and there was only distance between them and the impossible things they’d once been.
“I–I love—”
The words stumbled out, fragile and trembling, but shattered before they could take shape.
His throat closed up, strangling the confession, leaving only silence where the truth should have been.
His lips parted helplessly, but nothing followed just a quiver, just the ache of everything he couldn’t say.
His chest heaved, and he bit down hard on his trembling lip, punishing himself for even trying to say it.
He couldn’t afford love anymore.
He turned sharply, pressing a shaky palm to his face to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks. His breaths came out ragged, uneven, as though every inhale cut him from the inside.
Without daring to look back, he yanked the door open and slipped out, the soft click of the lock echoing louder than thunder in his ears.
In the hallway, the silence pressed down heavier than chains. He stopped for only a second, his forehead pressed against the wall, trying to keep himself from collapsing. His knees felt hollow, his heart ached as if nails were digging into it.
Taehyung’s hands wouldn’t stop trembling as he yanked open the cupboard, dragging out plain, hidden clothes that didn’t smell like Jungkook, didn’t belong to Jungkook, didn’t carry his weight.
He stripped off the silk shirt clinging to his skin like a memory, forcing himself into a loose shirt and trousers that felt almost foreign on him now. His pulse hammered, deafening in his ears, as if the very walls of the house might hear his plan.
Behind him, Gyubin stirred. The boy rubbed at his eyes, lids heavy with sleep, until his gaze found his father’s frantic movements. “Appa…?” he whispered.
The sound nearly broke Taehyung. He rushed over, cupping Gyubin’s small face, forcing his smile through the cracks in his heart. “Baby,” his voice cracked, “we’re leaving. Tonight.”
Gyubin’s lips parted, confusion widening his eyes. He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. All he could do was nod faintly as Taehyung stuffed their small lives into a bag with shaking hands, his movements fast, desperate.
He grabbed Gyubin’s hand and held it so tight it hurt. He couldn’t afford to loosen his grip. Not even for a second. Not when Jungkook could appear at any moment.
“Don’t ask appa anything right now,” Taehyung whispered, voice low, thick with panic. “Just trust me. Just walk.”
He turned, and his eyes landed on Daisy, the kitten, sitting by the kitchen door.
Watching. Waiting. Her little body curled neatly, her gaze following Taehyung with that strange, still innocence only animals could carry.
The ache in his chest nearly swallowed him whole. His voice shook as he crouched briefly, whispering so faint it was almost a prayer. “You’ll be taken care of here. I’m sorry.”
His throat closed, but he pulled himself away, dragging Gyubin forward. His feet moved fast, almost stumbling as if the ground beneath him was rejecting his escape.
And then the strangest thing
The guards.
They didn’t move.
They stood by the doorway, cold eyes following him, but their arms remained at their sides. No weapons raised. No bodies blocking the way. No orders shouted.
Nothing.
Taehyung’s breath hitched violently. Every hair on his body stood up. Why weren’t they stopping him? Why weren’t they.
He swallowed down the terror, clutching Gyubin’s hand so hard his knuckles turned white. He didn’t think. He didn’t dare. Just go. Just run.
Down the corridor. Past the threshold. Toward the gates that had caged him for so long. The silence of the guards followed him like a shadow, heavier than chains.
Freedom. It was so close he could taste it. And yet every step felt like walking into the palm of someone else’s hand.
.
.
Back in the bedroom...
Jungkook sprawled across the sheets like a fallen king, his shirt plastered to his skin with sweat. Each breath tore through his lungs, shallow and sharp, the poison gnawing at his veins like molten fire.
His body writhed, screaming for mercy, but his eyes red, fevered, unblinking clung stubbornly to the world.
A twisted smirk split his lips, jagged and wrong. Fingers, shaking yet deliberate, raked through his damp hair as a broken laugh rattled up his throat, low and guttural.
“Wildcat,” he croaked, savoring the name like blood on his tongue.
This house was still his.
Every guard outside moved only when he willed it. Every door left open was no mistake. Every silence that lingered in the halls was crafted by him.
Taehyung believed he was escaping.
But Jungkook had simply slipped the leash.
The prey was running free.
And the predator poisoned, suffering, half-mad was smirking through the agony, because nothing was more thrilling than a hunt where he had something left to lose.