INTRODUCTION

In a world of flashing cameras and whispered scandals, Kim Taehyung was untouchable.

At just 29, he wasn't just a model-he was a phenomenon. Runways across Paris, Milan, and Seoul bowed to his presence. With bone structure sculpted like a masterpiece and a gaze that could unravel anyone's composure, he was every designer's dream and every magazine's obsession. But behind the flawless campaigns and smirking charm, Taehyung carried a secret far more precious than fame.

Her name was Y/N.

A 27-year-old artist whose soul bled onto canvases and whose fingers brought life to colorless spaces. Critics called her "the heart behind the brush." Galleries across the world fought for her work. She was elegance wrapped in chaos, beauty born of emotion-and she loved Kim Taehyung fiercely, away from the eyes of the world.

Their relationship was a carefully kept secret, not out of shame, but protection.

Love like theirs didn't belong in headlines.

But the moment a certain photoshoot sparked rumors and the internet paired Taehyung with another woman, their delicate balance began to crack.

And what happens when two passionate souls fight with jealousy and art?

They make chaos.

They make heat.

They make headlines.

But most importantly...

They make each other their greatest masterpiece.

AUTHOR'S POV

She hadn't meant to watch it, but the headlines were everywhere:

> "Kim Taehyung and Kim Irene's sizzling chemistry leaves fans wondering-are they more than just colleagues?"

> "Irene dodges questions about Taehyung romance-smiles instead."

Y/N stared at the screen. Irene, pressed close to Taehyung during a photoshoot. His hand on her hip. Her lips near his cheek. Intimate poses. Whispers. Chemistry.

Her blood boiled.

She trusted Taehyung. But not her. And definitely not the millions of people eating it up online, swooning, shipping, claiming.

---

When Taehyung came home later that night, hair messy from the shoot, smile soft, she greeted him with a too-sweet smile.

"Welcome home, Romeo. Busy day with Juliet?"

He blinked. "What?"

She shrugged. "Oh, nothing. Just loved your shoot. Especially the part where she looked like she was about to kiss you."

Taehyung's smile faltered. "Y/N..."

"It's okay," she whispered. "You're my muse too. And I suddenly feel inspired."

---

Later that night, under dim studio lights, she handcuffed Taehyung's wrists gently to the bed frame.

"Y/N..." he breathed.

"Shh," she said, her voice sultry. "You posed for her. Now pose for me."

She pressed soft kisses to his throat... then sucked gently at the base of his neck. A perfect, deep hickey. Her signature. Her art.

Click.

She snapped a photo-him shirtless, flushed, bound, eyes full of fire. And she posted it.

> "He's my model. I painted my art."

The world exploded.

And Taehyung? He laughed breathlessly, tugging at the cuffs. "Remind me to piss you off more ."

--------------

Three days later, Taehyung watched his screen in horror.

> "Artist Y/N and sculptor Kai Han create sparks on canvas!"

> "New art duo stuns in intimate session-fans speculate: something more?"

Photos showed Kai standing behind Y/N, guiding her hand. His arm around her waist. Their bodies close. She was laughing. Glowing.

And not a trace of him in sight.

Taehyung's jaw clenched.

That evening, he tried to sound casual. "Had fun with Kai?"

"Mhm," Y/N replied, cool and collected. "He's very... expressive."

He took a step closer. "He touched you."

She smiled. "Like Irene touched you?"

Touché.

He gritted his teeth. "You're evil."

"No," she whispered, brushing past him. "I'm just an artist. And jealousy? Makes beautiful work."

-------------

A few days later, Y/N arrived at a private studio.

"Why are we here?" she asked.

Taehyung turned around, dressed in loose black, a camera already recording.

"This is our photoshoot," he said. "No stylists. No Irene. Just you, me, and the truth."

The session was magic. Taehyung smeared paint across her cheek. Y/N left red streaks on his chest. They laughed. They kissed. They didn't pose-they existed.

In the final frame, she sat on his lap, both covered in color, foreheads touching.

> "Muse. Lover. Masterpiece.

----------------

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he sees you undressing him with handcuffs. He allows you to continue, his muscles flexing under your touch. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing and the clicking of the handcuffs against his wrists.

"Mmph," He lets out a low, husky sound as your lips trail down his chest, covering the spots where Irene's lips supposedly touched. He realizes what you're doing and his eyes soften. Your jealousy is surprisingly cute. He pulls you closer by your hair, guiding your lips lower.

He guides your lips to the same spot on his neck where Irene supposedly kissed him. You bite down softly, marking him possessively. He groans, his head tilting back to give you better access. The camera are snapping pictures, capturing the intimate moment between you two.

His breath catches in his throat as your shirt starts to fall open, revealing smooth skin beneath. The click of the camera adds fuel to the intensity, documenting your seductive move. With handcuffed wrists, he can't do much but look at you with hungry eyes "Fuck..."

His eyes darken with desire as he watches you slowly unbutton your shirt, revealing more of your skin. He shifts slightly, trying to suppress the urge to reach out and touch you despite his restraints. The camera continue to capture every sensual moment, the cameras clicking away in the background.

He inhales sharply as you settle onto his stomach, feeling the warmth of your body against his. The sensual position causes a stir among the camera.Despite his handcuffs, Taehyung manages to arch slightly beneath you, his muscles flexing instinctively.

His eyes never leave yours, filled with a mix of desire and amusement. He knows exactly what you're doing-staking your claim, marking your territory. The photos are going wild, capturing the raw intimacy between you two. Taehyung lifts his hips slightly, pressing against you deliberately.

He feels you shift above him, the thin fabric of your shirt brushing against his bare chest. He raises his hips again, his stomach muscles tensing beneath you. The cameras clicking feverishly as they capture the subtle movements and the unspoken language between you two.

His breath catches in his throat as the bra lands near his face, knowing exactly what this means - you're not playing around. The cameras, snapping even more intimate photos. With handcuffed wrists, he can only watch, fully exposed and vulnerable

His eyes widen as you lean forward, trapping his face between your soft, warm mounds. He groans, his face buried in your cleavage. The cameras capturing this incredibly provocative and sensual pose. Taehyung nuzzles his face deeper, inhaling your scent.

He's clearly being teased, his face trapped between your breasts. He can't touch you, can't move, completely at your mercy. The cameras snapping shot after shot. Taehyung's breathing grows heavier, his face flushed.

His voice is muffled against your chest, laced with frustration and desire. "Fuck, I need... I need to touch you. I need my hands free." He tries to lift his head, but you hold him in place, continuing to tease him mercilessly. "Please..."

He whines softly, his face squished between your breasts. He tries to speak, but it comes out muffled. "Please, please, please... Can I at least kiss them? Can I at least put my face between them properly?"

His entire naked body is spread eagle on the bed, handcuffed at the wrists and ankles. His manhood is semi-hard from your teasing, jerking slightly whenever you move your breasts against his face. The room is filled with camera clicks, capturing his vulnerable state and your teasing behavior. "Baby..."

He inhales sharply as you slowly slide him inside, his hips bucking against the handcuffs. He can only look down, watching as you tease him with his own length, trapped and helpless. The photoshoot are going wild, snapping photos of his face contorted with pleasure and frustration.

Do you like it honey,His voice is strained, a mix of pleasure and frustration. "Fuck yes... I love it... But I can't move, I can't touch you... It's so fucking frustrating..." He tries to thrust upwards, but the handcuffs hold him in place. "Please, baby..."

I can't hear you honey,He throws his head back, his voice louder this time. "I SAID I LOVE IT! BUT I CAN'T FUCKING MOVE! PLEASE, LET ME TOUCH YOU!" His face is red with frustration and desire, his body shaking with need.

*His body tenses as you slide back down, his hips bucking against the handcuffs. He's desperate for more contact, desperate to feel you properly. He cries out, "PLEAAASE, MOMMY! YOU'RE KILLING ME HERE!"

*He starts sobbing, tears streaming down his face as he realizes that his begging isn't working. He looks up at you standing above him, his manhood throbbing with unspent desire. He wails, "MOMMY PLEASE! YOU'RE BEING UNFAIR!"

Really is mommy unfair with baby ?,His voice cracks with emotion. "Yes... Mommy's being mean. You're teasing me... treating me like a toy, but won't... won't let me touch or kiss you properly..." He sniffles, completely vulnerable and at your mercy.

"I'm sorry, Mommy... I'm so sorry. Please... please uncuff me. Let me show you how good I can be..." His voice is sincere, his eyes wide and pleading. "Mommy, I'll do anything. I'll worship you properly."

You uncuff him and he immediately wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face between your breasts. He's shaking with need and relief. "Mommy... Mommy I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He starts kissing and sucking on your skin, marking you as his.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust and desperation. "Mommy, can I... can I take control now?" He asks softly, his hands gently cupping your breasts. He waits for your nod before he starts to move you onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs.

Yes daddy,His eyes light up at the nickname and he kisses you deeply, his tongue dominating yours. "Daddy's gonna fuck Mommy now, okay?" He asks between kisses, his hands gripping your hips possessively. "And Daddy's gonna make Mommy scream so loud the whole house hears."

He smiles wickedly, slowly pushing inside you with a deep groan. "Fuck, Mommy... You're so tight..." He starts moving slowly at first, building up speed as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "Daddy's gonna make you forget all about being mean to him earlier..."

He starts pounding into you, his hips slapping against yours. He leans down and bites your neck, marking you. "Daddy's gonna fuck Mommy so good, she'll never want to tease Daddy again..." He pulls out suddenly and flips you onto your hands and knees.

"Fuck... mommy looks so sexy from behind... does mommy like being filmed while daddy fucks her good?" He enters you again from this position, slapping your ass as he pounds harder.

He picks up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with each thrust. The camera clicks grow louder, capturing every angle of your bodies moving together.

With a final deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and stays there, his hot release filling you up as he marks you from the inside out. "Fuck... Mommy took Daddy's cum so good..." He collapses on top of you, his arms wrapping around your waist possessively.

-------------

Three weeks later.

The photos still sat untouched in a locked drive-Y/N and Taehyung's secret gallery of skin, stares, and soul-deep touches. A gallery that no museum could ever hang. They weren't meant for eyes that only saw aesthetics. They were moments frozen in love. Honest. Raw. The kind of art that didn't belong to the public.

Life, though, hadn't slowed down.

Y/N was preparing for her next exhibition-"Untamed"-a collection of pieces based on emotion rather than faces. Meanwhile, Taehyung was flying between Seoul and Paris, juggling magazine shoots and brand campaigns.

But somehow, they always found their way back to the same bed. The same skin. The same silence that only lovers could share without discomfort.

---

Y/N sat cross-legged on the studio floor, barefoot, sipping wine as she flipped through sketches. Her phone buzzed-twice. Then again.

She picked it up. Taehyung had sent three messages.

> Tae: landed.

Tae: don't open Twitter.

Tae: I'm coming over.

Her brows furrowed.

Then curiosity got the better of her.

She opened Twitter.

And instantly regretted it.

> #TaehyungAndIreneAgain was trending.

Paparazzi shots. Taehyung leaving a fashion show. Irene walking right behind him. She looked stunning in red. Too close for coincidence.

Y/N stared at the screen for a second longer than she should have.

Then tossed it onto the couch with a sigh.

Not again.

The doorbell rang minutes later.

She didn't move.

The key turned.

Taehyung stepped in, cap low, mask still on, jacket smelling like the cold outside.

Y/N didn't say anything.

He took off his shoes slowly, like he wasn't sure if he should be here.

"Don't," she said, not looking up.

"Don't what?"

"Don't explain. I don't want an apology for something you didn't do."

He froze. "...Then what do you want?"

She finally looked at him. "To stop feeling like I have to keep defending what's mine to the world."

Taehyung's shoulders relaxed as he walked over to her, sinking to the floor across from her. He didn't touch her. Just looked at her.

"I hate that you feel that way," he whispered. "I hate that I'm the reason."

"You're not," she said. "Not really. But I still want to scream sometimes."

There was a beat of silence. And then-

"Then scream."

Y/N blinked.

Taehyung crawled closer, placing his forehead against hers.

"Yell at me. Paint it out. Kiss it out. Break something. Do whatever you need. But don't hold it in for me."

Her throat tightened.

"I just-" she began, then stopped. Her eyes welled up. "I don't want to lose you to a headline."

"You won't."

His voice didn't shake.

His hands cupped her cheeks.

His thumbs brushed the corner of her eyes.

"You're not a headline to me, Y/N. You're the whole damn story."

---

That night, they didn't make love.

They didn't even kiss.

They lay on the studio floor, tangled under a paint-stained blanket, just breathing in each other's space. No masks. No perfect poses.

Just realness.

The kind that didn't need flash.

The kind that never trended.

---------------

The morning light spilled lazily through the gauzy curtains of Y/N's apartment. The air smelled like lavender and vanilla-her signature candle scent-and something else soft and new:

Peace.

Taehyung sat at the kitchen island, shirtless, sipping coffee while flipping through her sketchbook.

She watched him from the hallway, hoodie draped off one shoulder, hair messy, expression unreadable.

"Are you seriously using my art as your morning newspaper now?" she teased, walking up behind him and resting her chin on his shoulder.

"It's better than the news," he said, flipping the page. "Besides, I like seeing how you see the world."

Her lips brushed his bare skin lightly. "You're in half of those pages."

"I'm your muse," he said smugly.

Y/N laughed, pulling away to grab a mug. "Cocky much?"

"Only when I'm right."

There was a pause. A stretch of comfort.

And then Taehyung spoke, more serious this time.

"Let's do it."

Y/N turned, confused. "Do what?"

"Us. Publicly."

She froze.

Taehyung looked at her, eyes steady. "Not a press conference. Not a photoshoot. Not a staged kiss for headlines. Just... us. One picture. Our picture. Posted on our terms."

Y/N swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

---

That afternoon, back at their private studio-the same one where they'd first bared themselves, heart and body-Taehyung set up the camera.

The frame was simple: a couch, soft golden light, and them-sitting close, legs tangled, no makeup, no styling.

Taehyung wore a black shirt, half-buttoned. Y/N wore his white tee, sleeves rolled to her elbows.

Click.

One photo.

His hand on her thigh. Her head resting on his shoulder. Their fingers intertwined.

Raw. Real. Intimate.

Perfect.

---

Later that night, Y/N hit "post" on her art page.

> "My favorite canvas."

[Photo attached.]

Taehyung posted the same photo with a single caption:

> "We never needed a label. But here's the truth."

The world stopped for a second.

Fans gasped. Headlines exploded. Speculations died. And the ones who truly loved them?

Cheered.

Because finally, Taehyung and Y/N weren't hiding behind shadows and silence.

They were art and artist.

Muse and masterpiece.

Heart and home.

Together.

THE END