HEART'S VENDETTA || Kim Taehyung FF
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- Votes 64
- Parts 13
In the midst of the pouring rain and thunderstorm, Taehyung drew nearer to Y/N until their lips delicately met, dancing to the rhythm of their hearts. As their connection deepened, Taehyung shifted his attention to her neck, leaving wet kisses and passionate hickeys, prompting Y/N to moan in pleasure. Suddenly, Taehyung halted, locking eyes with Y/N. In that intense moment, his gaze betrayed not love, but a sinister revenge.
Swiftly, he produced a menacing surprise-a gun pressed against Y/N's temple. Staring into her eyes, Y/N questioned in disbelief, "What are you doing, Taehyung? Have you lost your mind?" Taehyung's response dripped with a sinister smirk, "Yes, I was blinded by the illusion of your love. Now, I'll reveal the true depths of hell."
So will their love triumph over revenge or will the past ultimately consume them?
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Why Me!? || Kth✓
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𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 [ KTH ]
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"HE RUINED HER LIFE, BUT SHE DESTROYED HIS SOUL!' A tale of love turned to ashes and hearts consumed by vengeance. Betrayed and broken by the man she once loved, Y/N swore to hate him forever. But years later, Taehyung returns-more powerful, ruthless, and merciless than any devil. His only goal: to reclaim what was his, even if it means destroying everything in his path. In this twisted game of obsession and defiance, love is no salvation-it's the ultimate curse. . . . . . . Strong Female Lead!! Dark Romance. This work is purely mine, born from my imagination and dedication.
The air was tense, humming with power, as Kim Taehyung sat at the head of the long, dark mahogany table. His fingers, adorned with silver rings, lazily held a lit cigarette between them, the ember glowing like a predator's eye in the dark. He was a sight to behold-draped in a black silk shirt, unbuttoned just enough to tease a glimpse of his sculpted chest, the fabric clinging to his body like a second skin. A tailored black blazer sat perfectly on his broad shoulders, the intricate embroidery along the lapels shimmering subtly under the dim lights. His black dress pants were fitted, cinched with an expensive belt, the silver buckle engraved with his initials. And his shoes-Italian leather, polished to perfection-completed his aura of deadly elegance. But what truly stole the breath away was the way he held his gun-a Colt Dragoon revolver, an old yet reliable piece, resting in his grip like an extension of his own body. The metal glinted coldly as he tilted it slightly, his thumb brushing over the barrel
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