JEON JUNGKOOK

The past three weeks have been an agonising trial for me. Therapy had become a twice-weekly ritual, yet each session seemed to drag me deeper into a whirlwind of emotions rather than offering solace. Progress felt elusive, and the mere act of attending was a battle in itself.

Taehyung, however, never wavered in his support. True to his word, he accompanied me to every session. His presence became my lifeline. The sight of his face afterward was enough to sustain me. His eyes would light up the moment they met mine, and when tears stained my cheeks, he’d gently kiss them away, as though erasing my pain with his touch.

His father’s frequent visits had provided the perfect pretext for him to escape their suffocating presence. While I welcomed this reprieve, I couldn’t help but wish it had been under less dire circumstances.

Na-yeon, my therapist, had introduced me to coping techniques to manage my episodes and intrusive thoughts. I clung to these tools with determination, desperate to reclaim some semblance of normalcy. However, after a week, she referred me to a psychiatrist, believing I might require medication—something beyond her remit to prescribe.

This led me to Eunwoo. Conversations with him flowed more naturally; he had an innate ability to connect without condescension. He didn’t simply offer advice or platitudes; he seemed to truly understand. Instead of techniques, Eunwoo introduced me to antidepressants. He prescribed 50mg of Zoloft and carefully walked me through its potential side effects.

I was hesitant, of course. The idea of relying on medication frightened me, but even the faintest hope of feeling better was enough to compel me to try.

By Thursday, I’d completed my final session for the week, leaving me with an unbearable truth: I wouldn’t see Taehyung again until the following week. The thought gnawed at me—it felt like an eternity.

Two weeks on Zoloft brought a peculiar mix of results. At times, I felt lighter, my mood lifting in brief, delicate intervals. But there were other moments—unexpected, intense—where my thoughts became overwhelmingly fixated on Taehyung. My desire for him surged in ways I couldn’t control, and while it felt inappropriate, it was also one of the few things that gave me a sense of vitality.

On Sunday, Zara and Hoseok invited a small group of us to their pack house for dinner. I wasn’t sure if Taehyung would be there or preoccupied with his father’s endless demands, but I went anyway, my hope outweighing my doubts.

As soon as we arrived, his scent enveloped me like a forbidden embrace, stirring something deep and primal within me. Blood rushed through me, leaving me disoriented. It was overwhelming—too much, too fast.

Zara had prepared spaghetti Bolognese and busied herself serving everyone while chatting animatedly with Jimin and Yoongi. Her preoccupation provided the perfect opportunity for me to slip away unnoticed. Quietly, I climbed the stairs, my steps careful and deliberate.

The hallway was dimly lit, and I moved with purpose, following the intoxicating trail of Taehyung’s scent. My heart raced as I paused outside his room, the door slightly ajar. Peeking in, my chest tightened—he wasn’t there. The space felt hollow, a stark reminder of his absence.

Determined, I pressed on, the scent growing stronger with each step. Finally, I reached a dark wooden door, slightly cracked open. My breath hitched as I peered inside. There he was, standing with his back to me, his posture taut. His phone was in his hand, his fingers moving over the screen as his brow furrowed in evident concern.

For a moment, I stood frozen, my emotions swirling—a strange mix of longing, unease, and an unspoken desire to bridge the chasm between us.

I stepped inside the room, closing the door behind me with a quiet click. Taehyung flinched slightly at the sound, his body tensing as he spun around. His eyes immediately landed on me, confusion softening his features. I closed the distance between us with deliberate strides, the intensity of his gaze making my heart race.

“Pups?” he murmured, his voice tinged with both curiosity and concern. Before he could say another word, I reached up and captured his lips in a kiss, the need to be near him overwhelming every rational thought.

The satisfaction coursing through me as our lips connected was indescribable. It was like a fire igniting deep within, spreading warmth to every corner of my being. “Pups,” he mumbled again, his words muffled against my mouth. His hands came up to cradle my face, the calloused pads of his fingers pressing gently against my skin as he pulled back slightly. “Is everything alright?” he asked, his voice soft yet edged with concern. His sharp eyes scanned my face as his brows knitted together in worry.

I smiled, the corners of my lips tugging upward as I bit down on my bottom lip. “Everything is perfect,” I whispered, the truth of those words settling deeply within me as I leaned in and kissed him again, more deeply this time.

Taehyung’s grip on my face tightened ever so slightly, grounding me in the moment as he kissed me back with fervour. Just as quickly, he broke away, placing a gentle, fleeting peck on my lips. “Pups, my dad is going to be here any second, and I can’t—”

I cut him off, raising myself onto the tips of my toes and pressing a finger softly against his lips. “Shhh,” I murmured, my voice a quiet plea as my fingers trailed down to tug lightly on his full bottom lip. I let my eyes roam over his face, memorising every line, every shadow. The warmth of his skin beneath my fingers sent a thrill through me.

A low, guttural grunt escaped him as his gaze followed mine, watching my every movement. I couldn’t stop myself from pressing closer to him, feeling the tension ripple through his body as he realised how close we were. His body stiffened when he felt my arousal against his leg. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, his voice strained, before pulling me to him with sudden urgency and capturing my lips in an aggressive, searing kiss.

A moan slipped from me unbidden as he hoisted me up effortlessly, his hands gripping firmly under my thighs. He carried me to his desk, setting me down with purpose before his hands found the hem of my shirt. In one fluid motion, he tugged it over my head, discarding it carelessly. My fingers scrambled to the buttons of his crisp white shirt, fumbling in my haste to free him from it. As I pushed the fabric off his shoulders, my breath hitched. His golden skin glowed under the soft light, the intricate tattoos adorning his body a masterpiece I couldn’t help but admire.

Unable to resist, I leaned forward, pressing gentle kisses to his toned abdomen. Taehyung groaned deeply, the sound reverberating in his chest as his head fell back in bliss. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging with just enough force to send shivers down my spine. My body responded eagerly, the heat between us escalating faster than I could comprehend.

The sharp knock on the door shattered the moment like glass. Both of us froze, the spell broken. Before I could even process what was happening, Taehyung’s hands were on me, shoving me beneath his desk with a surprising swiftness. “One minute!” he called out, his voice firm and steady, belying the chaos of the moment.

From my vantage point beneath the desk, I watched his legs pacing restlessly before he finally settled into the chair in front of me. His knees were so close they almost grazed my face. The tension in the room was palpable, but he managed to maintain an air of composure as he called out, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and a deep voice greeted him. “Taehyung.”

“Jungwoon,” he replied, his tone even, betraying no hint of the frantic moments we had just shared.

The name struck a chord of recognition within me. Jungwoon—I had heard it before. He was one of Taehyung’s father’s pack members. I listened absently, my focus divided between the conversation above and the lingering warmth of Taehyung’s touch on my skin.

They converse, but I remain oblivious, my gaze fixated upon the tantalising outline of Taehyung's virile form beneath the taut fabric of his trousers. A low groan escapes my lips, and I indulge in the forbidden pleasure of stroking him through the material. His body tenses, a silent testament to the potency of my touch.

Pups...The word hangs heavy in the air, a reminder of his dominance. A smirk plays upon my lips, an unfamiliar confidence surging through me. His continued discourse, oblivious to the tempest brewing within me, adds a perverse thrill to the situation.

With deliberate slowness, I commence the undoing of his fastenings, the zip yielding to my gentle ministrations. My hand descends, seeking the haven of his boxers, and begins a rhythmic caress upon his burgeoning member. Pre-cum, a glistening testament to his arousal, already begins to bead at the tip. He is clearly famished, and I anticipate the imminent reciprocation of his ardour with a growing sense of anticipation.

Pups, this is entirely inappropriate. His voice, though restrained, carries a note of disapproval. Yet, he offers no resistance, no command to desist.

I gently caress the sensitive head of his shaft with my tongue, a low moan escaping his lips as his fingers clench the armrests of his chair with an almost painful intensity. My mouth engulfs his length, and I commence a slow, deliberate rhythm, savouring the exquisite torture of his restraint.

'Holy fucking shit,' he breathes, the words a raw expression of his mounting pleasure. 'God, you're in so much fucking trouble.'

'If you wish me to cease,' I murmur, my voice a silken caress against his skin, 'I shall oblige.'

Taehyung merely hums in response, his focus entirely on the sensations I orchestrate.

Jungwoon continues his monologue, but it is evident that Taehyung barely registers his words, his responses curt and monosyllabic.
As I continue my ministrations, his body betrays his escalating arousal. His legs tremble, his heels digging into the floor in a desperate attempt to contain the burgeoning storm within him.
“Right then, I'll see you shortly, shall I? Don't be tardy, or your father will have our hides.” Jungwoon chuckles, his words met with a mumbled assent from Taehyung.

The door swings shut with a resounding thud. Taehyung abruptly wrenches himself free from my grasp, rising to his feet with a swift, predatory grace. I slide from the desk, my gaze following him as he stalks towards his office door, securing it with a decisive click.

When he turns to face me, his eyes are a smouldering inferno of rage and lust, an intensity I have never before witnessed. “You believe you can indulge in such liberties with impunity?” he roars, advancing towards me with a menacing grace.

I shrug, a playful smile gracing my lips. He lunges, his hands closing around me with a force that leaves me breathless. He throws me onto the desk with a grunt, his movements a blur of motion as he rummages through his drawers, his fingers closing around a pair of cable ties.

He secures my hands together with a swift, practiced movement, then loops them through a designated hole in the desk, effectively pinning my arms above my head. My chest heaves with a mixture of arousal and apprehension as my body responds involuntarily to his touch.

He pulls my legs down, stretching them across the surface of the desk, effectively pinning me to the unforgiving wood. His large hand closes around my manhood, and with a ruthless efficiency, he begins to move. A gasp escapes my lips, my head slamming against the desk as I succumb to the overwhelming sensations.
“You dare to defy me, and we shall remain here until you learn to obey my commands,” he growls, his lips tracing a path along my jawline. A shiver of anticipation traverses my body, his words igniting a potent cocktail of fear and desire within me.

His movements accelerate, a relentless rhythm that pushes me to the precipice of release. I fight against the inevitable, but the pleasure is too potent, too overwhelming. A strangled cry escapes my lips as my body convulses, a torrent of release flooding my stomach and his hand.

Taehyung scoffs, his disapproval evident. 'Pathetic,' he murmurs, his voice a low growl. 'Such a lack of self-control.' He presses his hand against my neck, applying a gentle pressure that cuts off my breath.

I gasp, the sudden restriction intensifying the already overwhelming sensations. Tears well in my eyes, a mixture of pleasure and pain blurring my vision. I am close again, dangerously close, and I know that further resistance is futile. “You dare to indulge in such… release… again,” he growls, his grip tightening slightly.

My body trembles, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo. I can no longer contain it, a second wave of release erupting from within me. My toes curl beneath me, my body wracked with the force of the orgasm.

Taehyung remains impassive, his eyes a glacial blue. “Do you comprehend the consequences of disobedience?” he inquires, his voice a chilling whisper. 'Punishment.'

I cry out, the sudden increase in his movements jolting me. A wave of nausea washes over me, the pleasure now tinged with a disconcerting pain. “Taehyung,” I gasp, my voice barely a whisper.

My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing within my chest. This is no longer a game, no longer a pleasurable exploration. It is something darker, something more primal. As I look up at him, I see a glint of something new in his eyes, a predatory hunger that chills me to the bone.

“Taehyung, stop… please,” I plead, my voice weak and trembling.

He smirks, a cruel, predatory smile that sends a shiver down my spine. “You believe you can escape the consequences of your actions?” he purrs.

“Tae… stop… please,” I beg, the word barely escaping my lips.
His eyes darken, a primal intensity replacing the predatory glint.

“Taehyung, you're hurting me!” I cry out, the pain finally overriding the pleasure.

He seems momentarily startled by my outburst, his grip on my neck loosening slightly.

“Just… let me go!” I demand, my voice thick with anger and fear. I struggle against the bonds, my wrists burning. Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision.

“Pups, I…”

“Just let me out!” I roar, my voice filled with a raw, unbridled fury.
I continue to struggle, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. What in God's name had just transpired?

“Pups, I…”

“I don't want to hear it!” I shriek, my voice hoarse with suppressed sobs.

This is no longer safe. This is no longer the game we had both tacitly agreed upon. Fear, cold and paralyzing, grips me.

'Taehyung, you're hurting me!' I cry out again, the pain in my body now eclipsed by the pain in my heart.

He retrieves a pair of scissors from his drawer, the sharp glint catching the light as he moves to cut me free. The moment the binds are severed, I pull away from him with a sudden urgency, grabbing my t-shirt from the floor and clutching it to my chest. My hands tremble as I attempt to cover myself, but it does little to shield me from the vulnerability coursing through my veins.

“Pups, I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Taehyung’s voice falters, his gaze dropping to the floor as guilt flickers across his features. “I got carried away.”

“Got carried away?” My voice trembles, the rawness of my emotions spilling over. I sniffle, my vision blurred with unshed tears. “I told you to stop.”

He exhales shakily, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his regret. “I know you did. Normally… normally, I’d use a safe word. I thought maybe it was like role-play or something—”

“Role-play?” I interrupt, my voice rising as anger flares within me. “If ‘stop’ isn’t enough, then you should have given me something else to say!” My voice cracks, the sharp edge of my words cutting through the thick tension in the room. A sob escapes me, unbidden, and I quickly choke it back.

“Pups, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his tone laced with desperation. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He takes a hesitant step toward me, his hands reaching out, but I raise mine to stop him, creating a barrier between us.

“I told you I didn’t want to get involved in this… this shit,” I say, my voice trembling with both anger and betrayal.

“But I didn’t explain properly,” he stammers, his voice cracking as he tries to reason with me. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem, Taehyung,” I cut him off, venom seeping into my tone. “You didn’t think so. You didn’t explain that this is what happens when you go too far.” My words hit him like a blow, his face paling as he absorbs the weight of my accusation. “I know almost nothing about your world, and you thought it was fair to do that to me?”

His eyes glisten with unshed tears, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words come. Meanwhile, my own tears spill freely, hot and unrelenting as they streak down my cheeks. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he murmurs finally, his voice barely audible. “Not without discussing it first. I should’ve—”

“Why would you do that?” I cry, my voice breaking as I swipe angrily at the tears staining my face. “Did you want to see me begging for you to stop?” The accusation hangs heavily in the air, and his eyes widen in shock.

“No, Jungkook, you know it’s not like that!” he protests, his voice thick with desperation. He takes another step toward me, but I instinctively step back, keeping the distance between us.

“Then what?” I demand, my voice rising as my throat burns from the strain. “To scare me into submission? To show me who’s in charge?” My jaw tightens as the words spill out, bitter and unfiltered. “Trying to prove you’re the one in control? To assert your dominance over me?” The fury bubbling within me feels uncontrollable, my teeth clenched as I spit the words at him.

He flinches as though struck, his expression crumbling as he stands there, helpless under the weight of my anger. His tears fall silently now, a single droplet tracing the sharp curve of his cheekbone.

“You say you’re not like your father,” I whisper harshly, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and pain. “But what the fuck was that?” My words hit him like a physical blow, and I watch as his shoulders sag further, his entire being seeming to shrink under the weight of my condemnation.

He doesn’t respond. He can’t. He just stands there, staring at me with those tear-streaked eyes, as though he doesn’t recognise himself either. For a long moment, the room is filled only with the sound of my ragged breaths and the deafening silence of his guilt.

———

Greetings everyone, I trust you enjoyed this chapter.

Before I continue, I feel it is necessary to issue a brief disclaimer. Under no circumstances am I condoning or supporting abuse, either within the narrative of this story or in any real-life context.

What Taehyung did was wrong, and nothing can justify it. However, it is important to note that his actions did not stem from a desire to inflict harm or from any harmful fetish, such as a 'rape' fetish.

Instead, Taehyung genuinely believed Jungkook was enjoying the situation, partly due to his past experiences (you may recall he has engaged in certain BDSM practices before). This misunderstanding will be further clarified in the next chapter, but I wanted to assure you that Taehyung's true intention was never to hurt Jungkook. He would never intentionally do so.

Taehyung struggles with his own anger and issues of dominance, which I am eager to