The devil claims his weakness

🌑 The Devil’s Softest Touch

Part 2 –

The rain hadn’t fallen that night, but Taehyung still felt it on his skin.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw him.

The man from the alley.

The stranger from the storm.

The Devil with a touch too soft for someone who claimed to own him.

Taehyung pressed a hand to his chest as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling of his small apartment. His heart had been restless ever since. Sleep evaded him, replaced by fragments of dark eyes and a voice that dripped like velvet over knives.

“You belong to me now.”

The words clung to him, a chain he hadn’t agreed to wear but couldn’t shake off. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. He didn’t even know the man’s name, yet his presence lingered like a shadow at the edge of every thought.

And stranger still, beneath the fear curling in his stomach, something warmer pulsed. A dangerous pull. Curiosity.

Taehyung hated it.

He hated himself for it.

Meanwhile

Across the city, Jeon Jungkook’s world spun around blood, money, and power, but none of it tasted the same. Meetings blurred. Rivals begged. Guns fired. And still, his mind wandered to one person.

Kim Taehyung.

The boy had looked so fragile in that alley, trembling against the wall, lips parted in shock, yet his eyes… they had burned with defiance even as his voice shook. Maybe you are a monster.

No one spoke to Jungkook like that. No one dared.

But Taehyung had.

And instead of fury, Jungkook had felt something dangerously close to fascination.

Now, as he sat in his private office overlooking the city, a glass of whiskey untouched by his side, Jungkook tapped his fingers against the desk, restless.

Namjoon entered quietly, a file in his hands. “We’ve tightened surveillance on Kim Taehyung, as you ordered. He sticks to routine—classes, the café, the library, his apartment. No connections to rivals. Completely clean.”

“Good.” Jungkook’s lips curved, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Keep it that way. No one touches him.”

Namjoon hesitated. “Boss, you know the risks. If anyone realizes he matters to you—”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped up, sharp enough to cut. “That’s why you’ll make sure no one does.”

Namjoon sighed but nodded, leaving him alone again.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. He could still feel the phantom warmth of Taehyung’s wrist beneath his fingers. The way the boy had looked at him—half in fear, half in something he couldn’t name.

The Devil had ruled empires without weakness. But now… he had one.

The Encounter

The next evening, Taehyung found himself walking home again, sketchbook tucked against his chest. He told himself he’d imagined the car from before, imagined the weight of unseen eyes.

Until a voice broke the night.

“Going somewhere, angel?”

Taehyung froze mid-step. His heart lurched. Slowly, he turned.

Jungkook stood there—leaning casually against a streetlamp as though he owned the night itself. Dressed in black, hair falling over his forehead, tattoos peeking from under his sleeve. The lip ring gleamed when he smirked.

Taehyung’s pulse raced. “You—”

“Me,” Jungkook finished smoothly, pushing off the lamp and strolling toward him. His movements were predatory, but his gaze… softer, burning. “You look surprised. Didn’t think you’d see me again?”

Taehyung stepped back instinctively. “I didn’t want to see you again.”

Jungkook chuckled, low and dangerous. “Liar.”

Taehyung bristled. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because,” Jungkook stopped in front of him, tilting his head, eyes devouring him slowly, “you’ve been thinking about me. Haven’t you?”

Taehyung’s breath caught. He hated how easily the man read him.

“You don’t even know my name,” Taehyung shot back.

Jungkook leaned closer, voice a whisper against his ear. “Jeon Jungkook. And you’re Kim Taehyung. See? I know everything that matters.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “You’ve been following me.”

“Protecting you,” Jungkook corrected smoothly. “There’s a difference.”

Taehyung shoved at his chest, but it was like pushing a wall of stone. “I don’t need your protection!”

Jungkook caught his wrist, grip firm but not painful, eyes locking with his. “Maybe not. But I need to give it.”

For a heartbeat, silence hung between them. The streetlights hummed, the city noise distant. All Taehyung could hear was the sound of his own racing heartbeat and the steady calm of the man before him.

Jungkook’s thumb brushed lightly over Taehyung’s pulse point, and the touch was so soft it betrayed everything about the man’s reputation.

It was terrifying.

And intoxicating.

The Warning

“You should stay away from me,” Taehyung said finally, voice trembling. “Whatever world you live in, I don’t want any part of it.”

Jungkook’s expression darkened. “Too late. You stepped into it the moment you looked at me without fear.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Life isn’t fair, angel,” Jungkook cut him off, voice firm. “You think you can just walk away? Pretend you didn’t see me? That you didn’t feel something?”

Taehyung’s breath hitched. “I didn’t feel—”

“You did,” Jungkook said, eyes burning. “And so did I.”

The intensity in his voice silenced Taehyung. For a moment, he saw it—underneath the Devil’s mask. A crack. A vulnerability.

Jungkook released his wrist slowly, but his gaze never wavered. “I won’t hurt you, Taehyung. But I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you from me.”

Taehyung stared at him, heart pounding. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook murmured, stepping back into the shadows. “But you’ll learn to live with it.”

The Cliffhanger

The following night, Taehyung returned late from campus. He climbed the stairs to his apartment, fumbling for his keys—only to find his door slightly ajar.

Panic surged through him. Slowly, he pushed it open.

Inside, the room was untouched—except for the sketchbook on his desk. The pages were flipped open to the portrait he’d drawn of Jungkook.

And across the bottom of the page, in neat, bold handwriting that was not his own, were four words:

“You’re already mine.”

Taehyung’s hands shook. His breath came in shallow gasps.

And in the silence of the night, a voice echoed in his mind—deep, velvet, and merciless.

“You belong to me now

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