RUINED BY MY BROTHER-IN-LAW 
Pairing: Kim Taehyung (V) x Female Reader (Y/N)
Genre: Dark Romance, Forbidden Love, Erotic Smut, Angst
• Explicit sexual content (18+)
• Heavy BDSM elements (bondage with silk ropes & cuffs, spanking, dominance/submission, orgasm control/edging, anal play with plug, choking/light breath play)
• Rough sex, possessiveness, degradation kink, praise kink
• Taboo/forbidden relationship (brother-in-law)
• Cheating-adjacent themes (loveless marriage)
• Manipulation, kidnapping play, strong language
• Emotional angst & internal conflict
A/N: I was getting so many BDSM and brother-in-law requests, so I mixed them together into one filthy storm. This one's extra dark, extra spicy, and full of that delicious forbidden tension you guys love. If you're here for soft romance... this ain't it ...like comment, and reblog!!
The gray clouds hung heavy over the university campus, casting a somber, bruised light across the courtyard. A sudden, sharp breeze rattled the leaves, smelling faintly of impending damp earth. I pulled my jacket tighter, glancing at my phone the screen displayed a frantic text from my driver: "Car's dead, stuck on the highway. Won't make it."
I let out a frustrated sigh, looking over at Jisoo. She was completely unbothered, calmly picking at the fruit in her bright yellow Pikachu snack bag as if the world wasn't about to drown in a downpour.
"Jisoo, seriously," I said, nudging her arm and gesturing toward the darkening horizon. "Look at the sky. It's going to pour any second. I didn't bring an umbrella, and now I'm stranded. Please, you should go. You don't have to stay here and get stuck with me."
She didn't even look up at the clouds. She just popped a slice of apple into her mouth, her expression stubborn and unwavering.
"No, baby," she replied, closing her snack bag with a definitive snap. "I will not leave you. We're in this mess together."
I let out a soft, defeated laugh, the tension in my chest loosening just a fraction. Even with the gray skyline threatening to ruin everything, Jisoo's stubbornness was strangely grounding.
"You're going to be soaked," I countered, though I knew it was a losing battle. "And my hair is going to look like a bird's nest by the time we even reach the bus stop."
Jisoo finally turned her gaze away from her Pikachu snack bag. She gave me a look that signature mixture of playful mischief and absolute, unshakeable loyalty and nudged her shoulder against mine.
"Then we'll look like a pair of drowned rats together," she said, her voice light. "Besides, think of the drama. It's like a movie scene. The only thing missing is a dramatic soundtrack."
Just as she finished the sentence, the first heavy, fat drop of rain hit the pavement with a loud thwack, followed immediately by another. Within seconds, the sky opened up, turning the campus into a blur of gray. People started scrambling in every direction, tucking their bags under their coats and sprinting for the library overhangs.
The downpour intensified, turning the campus walkways into shallow rivers, but I barely registered the cold water hitting my shoes. My entire focus had shifted to the black luxury sedan idling near the library entrance a stark, polished contrast to the chaotic, soaked students scrambling for cover.
And there he was. Taehyung.
He leaned against the driver's side door, completely unbothered by the torrential rain, looking like he had stepped straight out of a magazine spread. He was dressed in a sharp, charcoal-gray coat, his hair slightly damp in a way that infuriatingly only made him look better. He held a large, black umbrella with one hand, checking his watch with that signature, infuriatingly calm smirk.
"FUCKKKK LOOK AT HIM," Jisoo shrieked, her grip on my arm tightening until I thought I might bruise. She was vibrating, her face lighting up with a mix of genuine adoration and pure, unadulterated panic.
"I'm looking, Jisoo. Believe me, I'm looking," I hissed back, pulling my arm away while trying to flatten my rain-matted hair.
It was my brother-in-law, the bane of my existence, and the man who seemed to take personal pleasure in ignoring every single hint I'd ever dropped about Jisoo. He knew. He definitely knew she was standing right next to me, but he had that relaxed, predator-like posture that suggested he was just waiting to see us drown in the rain.
"What is he even doing here?" I muttered, feeling a surge of annoyance. "He's supposed to be in a board meeting across the city. He's just here to gloat, isn't he?"
Jisoo didn't answer. She was too busy frantically trying to wipe a stray raindrop off her cheek, her eyes fixed on him like he was the only thing existing in the universe.
Taehyung finally looked up. His gaze drifted slowly through the wall of rain, past the running students, and landed directly on us. He didn't look worried. He didn't look like he was in a rush to save us. He just adjusted his grip on the umbrella, his smirk deepening, and raised a hand in a slow, languid wave.
"He's mocking us," I grumbled, my blood boiling. "That absolute fucker."
Jisoo didn't hesitate; she sprinted through the downpour toward him, abandoning all dignity. Taehyung stood his ground, capturing her hand mid-air and pressing a lingering, gentlemanly kiss against her knuckles while he leaned back against the frame of the car.
"Hey, beautiful," he murmured, his voice cutting through the roar of the rain.
He looked at Jisoo, who had gone completely catatonic, her soul seemingly floating somewhere far above the campus. She glanced back at me, eyes glazed over in a daze, and whispered, "I... I will never wash this hand again." With that, she practically stumbled into the passenger seat, completely lost in her own little world.
Then, his gaze shifted to me.
Without a word, he reached out, his fingers cool and firm as he moved to take my hand for the same performative gesture. But before his lips could even graze my skin, I snatched my hand back, pulling it away as if he were made of fire. I fixed him with a sharp, icy glare, making it perfectly clear that I wasn't buying into his charm.
"Save the performance for someone who isn't currently freezing to death," I snapped, the icy rain matting my hair to my forehead. "And don't think for a second that this makes up for you just standing there watching us drown for the last five minutes."
Taehyung let out a low, melodic chuckle that was almost drowned out by the thunder overhead. He didn't look offended; if anything, he looked amused by my hostility. He opened the back door, holding it wide with a flourish that felt more like a taunt than an invitation.
"My sincerest apologies for the delay," he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, velvet register that made people forgive him for things they absolutely shouldn't. "But you have to admit, the rain suits your temperament perfectly."
He leaned in, his shadow looming over me. "Are you getting in, or do you plan on catching pneumonia just to spite me?"
I climbed into the backseat without a word, slamming the door shut with enough force to punctuate my irritation. I didn't care about politeness; I didn't care about his "heroics." I just stared pointedly at my phone, though I wasn't actually reading anything.
He didn't acknowledge the silence. He simply slid into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life with a quiet, expensive hum that barely rippled the heavy atmosphere inside the car.
I glanced up, trying to ignore the two of them, but it was impossible.
My eyes locked on the back of Jisoo's head, and I felt my eye twitch. She was turned completely around in the passenger seat, ignoring the fact that she was currently dripping water onto the pristine leather upholstery. Her expression was glazed over a total, hopeless dreamscape. I knew that look. In her mind, she wasn't just in a car with him; she was walking down the aisle, picking out china patterns, and naming their hypothetical children.
"You are so beautiful," she gushed, her voice breathless and entirely lacking any self-preservation.
"Truly. Exquisite. The way the light catches your jawline while you drive... it's actually unfair to the rest of the world."
She didn't stop there. She kept piling on the compliments, each one more dramatic and sycophantic than the last, her hands gesturing wildly as if she were narrating a romance novel.
I rolled my eyes so hard it physically hurt. I turned my head to look out the rain-streaked window, watching the blur of the city turn into a distorted watercolor of grays and blues.
"Jisoo," I snapped, my voice clipped and sharp, "give the man a break. He's driving, not auditioning for a statue gallery."
Taehyung didn't look back, but in the rearview mirror, I caught the slight, smug tilt of his lips. He was eating it up.
"Let her speak," he drawled, his voice dangerously smooth as he navigated a sharp turn. "It's rare to find someone with such... impeccable taste."
"What about my sister, asshole?" I barked, my patience finally fraying at the edges. "Don't think I don't know you're ignoring her existence again."
Taehyung didn't even dignify the question with a real answer. He just rolled his eyes, a flicker of genuine disdain crossing his face, before turning back to Jisoo with a sickeningly charming wink.
"Whoreing around, I'm sure," he replied, his tone dismissive, as if he were discussing the weather.
I looked out the window, my jaw tight. It wasn't an exaggeration. Ji-a and I weren't "siblings" in any traditional sense of the word. We didn't share secrets or support each other; we barely shared air without causing a scene.
She had been trouble since we were kids, and watching her evolve into a woman who lived her life with such reckless abandon even back when we were far too young had only cemented the chasm between us. I didn't just dislike her; I held a cold, hard resentment that sat in my chest like a stone.
The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. Taehyung and Ji-a's marriage was a hollow shell, a business transaction welded together by corporate boardrooms and greedy hands.
They didn't just dislike each other; they loathed one another with a quiet, biting intensity.
Three weeks. That was all it took for the facade to crumble. They hadn't lived under the same roof for months, their marriage existed solely on a legal document that neither of them cared enough to nullify yet. I was willing to bet everything I owned that neither of them even had the other's number saved in their phones.
It was a strange puzzle. Taehyung the man who could charm the birds out of the trees, the social butterfly who turned every room into his own private stage became a black hole of silence whenever Ji-a was involved.
I'd seen him work a crowd, seen him laugh with strangers, and watched him carry himself with an effortless, extroverted glow. Yet, he wouldn't even let his eyes accidentally graze over her.
It was almost funny, in a dark, twisted way. He treated every woman in the world like a prize, and my sister like a ghost he was actively trying to exorcise.
"You're awfully quiet back there," Taehyung said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. He caught my eye in the rearview mirror, his gaze narrowing slightly, testing me.
"Thinking of something particularly interesting, or just enjoying the view?"
"Nothing much. Nothing interesting," I replied, my voice dripping with the annoyance I felt radiating off him.
Believe it or not, I didn't actually dislike him. That was the most irritating part. Whether he was showing up at family functions, dropping by the house for "business meetings" that clearly didn't require his presence, or just looming over me during random errands, there was always an intensity to his attention that made my skin crawl and my heart race in equal, confusing measure.
It wasn't just me, either. Jisoo had been whispering it for months: He's in love with you.
I always pushed the thought away, aggressively distancing myself whenever he got too close. It was perverse. Even if his marriage to my sister was a dead, loveless legal contract, it was still his marriage and he was still my brother-in-law. The moral boundary felt like a wall of spikes, and the idea of crossing it, especially when Jisoo my best friend, the person who had been by my side through everything was so desperately, blindingly in love with him, felt like a betrayal I couldn't stomach.
I stared at the back of Jisoo's head as she laughed at something he said, her eyes shining with that pure, unfiltered adoration. They did look good together. He was polished, powerful, and infuriating; she was bright, loyal, and unapologetically obsessed.
Just do it, I told myself, tightening my grip on my phone. Get them together. Stop playing these games. If you force them into each other's orbit, he'll have to stop looking at you like that.
"You're awfully quiet," he said again, his voice dropping into that low, taunting register that made it impossible to ignore him. He slowed the car down at a red light, and in the silence of the vehicle, I felt his gaze shift from the road to the rearview mirror. He wasn't looking at the traffic. He was looking right at me. "Are you still sulking, or have you finally decided to be useful and join the conversation?"
I met his eyes in the reflection, my own gaze cold and unyielding.
"I'm just thinking," I said, a dangerous, impulsive idea forming in my mind. "I'm thinking that Jisoo has been talking about how much she wants to go to that new art gala this weekend. Since you have so much free time to play taxi, maybe you should take her. I'm sure she'd love to have your undivided attention for an entire evening."
The car went deathly silent. Jisoo, who had been mid-sentence about something completely trivial, froze. Her face turned a shade of pink that rivaled a sunset, and she whipped around, eyes wide, looking between the two of us as if she had just been granted a miracle.
Taehyung's reaction, however, was not the annoyed dismissal I expected. He didn't scoff. He didn't roll his eyes. Instead, the corner of his mouth quirked up that slow, calculated smirk that always made the air in the room feel too thin. He didn't even take his eyes off the road, but the atmosphere in the car shifted, thickening with a sudden, suffocating intensity.
"An art gala," he repeated, his voice dropping into a low, smooth purr.
He glanced at Jisoo, his gaze lingering on her for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, his eyes dancing with a playful, dangerous light.
"I suppose I could clear my schedule for you, beautiful," he said, his voice honey-thick. "You do have excellent taste in art, I'm sure."
Jisoo let out a faint, strangled sound of pure joy, but Taehyung wasn't finished. He didn't look away from her, but his eyes flicked back to mine, pinning me in place.
"However," he continued, his tone turning dangerously possessive, "I don't do casual outings. I'm a busy man, and I don't offer my company for free."
He paused, the smirk never leaving his lips, though his eyes remained dead serious. "I'll take you to the gala, Jisoo. But on one condition: your best friend here comes to stay at my penthouse for a whole day and night. Supervision is required for my... official business appointments."
The air in the car turned freezing. I felt my stomach drop, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. He wasn't interested in Jisoo. He never was. This was a trap a blatant, infuriating ultimatum aimed directly at me.
"Well?" he asked, his gaze never leaving mine, daring me to refuse.
"Do we have a deal, or is your sister's friend not worth the sacrifice?"
Jisoo was vibrating, her fingernails digging into the armrest as she turned fully toward me, her eyes wide, desperate, and pleading. She wasn't even hiding the threat anymore; it was written in the sharp set of her jaw and the way she hissed through her teeth.
"Bitch, please," she whispered, her voice tight with a mix of adoration for him and pure rage toward me.
"Agree to it. I have to go on this date with him. Even if it's the first and last time I ever breathe the same air as him, I don't care I would be happy. Just say yes. Please, please, just agree."
I looked at her, then up at the rearview mirror.
Taehyung was watching the exchange with the calm, detached interest of a scientist observing an experiment. He had the steering wheel gripped loosely, his posture relaxed, his dark eyes flickering between Jisoo's desperate face and my own reflection. He knew exactly what he was doing: he was using my best friend's obsession as a leash, and he was daring me to pull it.
"She seems quite eager, doesn't she?" Taehyung drawled, his voice a smooth, velvet blade. "It's a simple trade, really. A night at the penthouse for a lifetime of memories for your friend. Surely you aren't that selfish?"
He was goading me, wrapping his demand in the guise of a favor. The silence in the car grew heavier, punctuated only by the rhythmic thrum of the rain against the roof. Jisoo was practically begging, her eyes begging me not to ruin her fantasy, oblivious to the fact that she was being auctioned off as a lure to get me into his home.
I looked at him really looked at him in the mirror. His smirk was gone, replaced by a dark, intense focus that made my heart hammer against my ribs.
"Twenty-four hours," I said, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. "You want me there for twenty-four hours?"
"Every second of it," he replied, his gaze unyielding.
I turned my head away, looking out at the gray, rain-slicked world. My mind was racing, trying to find an exit, but the trap was already sprung.
"Fine," I said, the word feeling like ash in my mouth. "We have a deal. But if you try anything—"
"I never 'try' anything," he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave as he pressed the accelerator. "I simply take what's already within reach."
The rest of the drive was defined by a silence so heavy it felt tangible.
Taehyung drove with a calculated, infuriating smoothness, his eyes occasionally flickering to the rearview mirror not to check the traffic, but to watch the way I stared rigidly out the window, my arms crossed over my chest.
Beside him, Jisoo was in a state of catatonic bliss. She had turned back to face the front, her hands folded primly in her lap, a dreamy, vacant smile plastered on her face. She was already planning her wardrobe for the gala, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just traded her best friend's comfort for a night of Taehyung's orchestrated charm.
I, on the other hand, felt the walls closing in. The "deal" hung in the air, a contract sealed in cold rain and manipulation. My phone buzzed in my pocket a notification from my writing app but I didn't reach for it. My mind was elsewhere, replaying his words: *"I simply take what's already within reach."*
He knew exactly what he was doing. He was drawing me into his territory, peeling away the layers of distance I'd spent months building.
As we pulled into the driveway of my home, the rain had slowed to a miserable drizzle. Taehyung killed the engine, and the sudden quiet was jarring.
"I'll have my assistant send you the details for the weekend," he said, his voice deceptively casual. He didn't look back this time. He just drummed his fingers against the leather steering wheel, the sound rhythmic and deliberate.
Jisoo practically lunged for the door, unable to contain her excitement. "Thank you! Oh my god, thank you! I'll be ready! I promise!"
She scrambled out, tripping slightly on the wet pavement in her hurry to get inside and start the countdown. I lingered for a moment, my hand on the door handle, feeling the weight of his gaze burning into the back of my neck.
I turned to look at him, my expression a mask of frigid indifference. "Don't think this makes us friends, Taehyung."
He turned his head then, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a depth that was genuinely unsettling. The smirk didn't reach his eyes this time. There was something else there something raw and possessive.
"I don't want a friend," he said, his voice barely a whisper, yet it cut through the damp air like a blade. "I want you in my penthouse. And trust me, I'm going to make every second of those twenty-four hours unforgettable."
He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against my wrist as I stepped out, his touch lingering a second too long.
"See you this weekend, darling."
I didn't wait for another word. I shoved the door shut and sprinted toward my front door, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, terrified by the realization that part of me a part I refused to acknowledge was already counting down the hours.
Jisoo was already in the living room, twirling in circles, her phone pressed to her ear as she loudly began the process of scouring her closet for "gala-appropriate" attire. She was so deliriously happy she didn't even notice the pale, shaken look on my face.
"He actually agreed, can you believe it? He's so mysterious, so dominant, so—"
"He's a nightmare, Jisoo," I snapped, throwing my bag onto the sofa and pacing the room. "You didn't see the way he looked at me. He doesn't care about the gala. He doesn't care about you. He's using you as a lure to get me to that penthouse."
Jisoo stopped mid-twirl, her expression hardening just a fraction. For the first time, a flicker of something resembling intelligence crossed her face.
"You're just jealous," she whispered, though the words lacked conviction. "You always think everything is some grand conspiracy. Why can't you just let me have this? Why do you always have to be so cold toward him?"
"Because he's married!" I exploded, the words echoing off the high ceilings. "He's my brother-in-law, and he treats your life like a game of chess. Can't you see that?"
She didn't answer. She just turned back to her phone, her back stiff, already shutting me out to preserve the fantasy.
"Because I can clearly see that he is into you, why don't you just enjoy it?" Jisoo said, throwing herself onto my bed with a bored, dramatic flop.
She stared at the ceiling, swinging her legs carelessly. "I'm pretty sure he's a sex god in bed. If I were in your place? Oh gosh, I can't even begin to imagine what I might have done already."
I felt the blood drain from my face, then rush back in a hot, angry wave. I stood by my desk, my hands clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white.
"Forbidden," I hissed, the word feeling like a jagged piece of glass in my throat. "That's what it is, Jisoo. It's forbidden, it's wrong, and it's pathetic. He's married to my sister—my hated sister—but he's still tied to that name. I am not some trophy he adds to his collection just because he's bored with his own life."
Jisoo rolled onto her side, propping her head up on her hand. She looked at me with that infuriating, wide-eyed innocence that masked how sharp she could really be. "You're so dramatic. It's a piece of paper, and you know it. He hates her, she hates him, and the whole city knows it. It's not 'forbidden' if nobody cares, you're just afraid."
I paced the length of my room, my footsteps heavy on the hardwood.
"It's not about what the city thinks, Jisoo. It's about me. I have standards, and 'homewrecker'—even if the home is already a ruin—isn't on the list."
"Standards?" Jisoo scoffed, sitting up and crossing her legs. She looked at me with a pity that was worse than her earlier teasing.
"You're acting like a saint in a story you're dying to rewrite. You keep yourself locked in this room, writing about dark romance and noir betrayal, while the actual story is happening right in front of your face. You want to be the one to break him, don't you? That's why you're really fighting this."
I stopped pacing, my back turned to her. My breath hitched. Break him? Or was it that he was the only one who looked at me like he wanted to break me?
"I just want to be left alone," I lied, though the words tasted like copper.
I swung around, my eyes narrowed, my patience finally shattered by her audacity. "I wonder how you can even talk like that, Jisoo? You're the one who's obsessed with him! You're literally standing here, pushing me to have an affair with my own brother-in-law? Do you even hear how insane that sounds?"
I stared at her, waiting for a shred of shame, a flicker of guilt, or at least some kind of logical explanation. Instead, she just stood there, leaning casually against my doorframe. She didn't look offended. She didn't look hurt.
She just gave me a slow, playful wink.
"Oh, honey," she crooned, her voice dripping with a mix of mischief and cold, hard confidence.
"Do you really think I'm that stupid? I like him, sure. He's gorgeous, he's rich, and he's got that dark edge that makes a girl's heart race. But I'm not playing the same game as you."
She pushed off the door and took a step toward me, her eyes glinting with a secret. "I know he wants you. I've always known. The way he looks at you? It's not brotherly, and it's definitely not polite. It's hungry. And honestly? Watching the great, icy, 'proper' sister finally snap and give in to that kind of hunger... that's the real entertainment."
I sank onto the edge of my bed, my head spinning. She was right about one thing: he was hungry. And as I stared at the dark screen of my phone, I felt that hunger starting to mirror my own.
The weekend had finally bled into the evening, and the silence of the house was shattered by the sound of the front door swinging open.
I was standing in the foyer, my heart doing a traitorous double-time, when Taehyung walked in. He looked like he'd been through a war. His expensive suit jacket was discarded over one arm, his tie was loosened into a mess, and his hair usually perfectly coiffed was falling into his eyes in a way that looked dangerously disheveled.
And in his arms, tucked against his chest like she weighed nothing more than a feather, was Jisoo. Her head was lolled back, her mouth slightly open, snoring softly against his shoulder.
He trudged toward the living room and unceremoniously deposited her onto the couch. She didn't even stir, just let out a little puff of air and curled into the cushions.
Taehyung stood over her, hands on his hips, looking like a man who had lost a decade of his life in the span of four hours. He looked at me, and for a split second, the cold, predatory mask slipped, revealing a man who looked genuinely bewildered and exhausted.
"She slept... halfway through the ride back," he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. He looked like a lost puppy that had just been dragged through a hurricane. "How do you even deal with her? I thought I was taking a woman to an art gala, not a toddler to a petting zoo."
He let out an exasperated huff, his shoulders sagging. "She saw a plush bunny in the gift shop and when I said no, she started crying, right there in front of a gallery curator. Then she forced me to stop at three different spots to take 'aesthetic' photos of her. I have six hundred photos of her posing with a fern on my phone."
He gestured vaguely at the couch, looking at me with wide, tired eyes.
"Look at her! She's smiling in her sleep. She has no idea she's the reason I'm about to check myself into a stress clinic. This is going to be my last date ever. Jisoo was such a pain in the ass."
He sounded so genuinely miserable, so utterly defeated by her chaotic energy, that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. The sharp, dangerous man who had held me captive with his gaze a few days ago was gone, replaced by this tired, messy human who looked like he just wanted a nap.
"You're lucky I didn't leave her in the gallery," he muttered, dropping onto the armchair opposite the couch and staring at me with a look that was half-annoyance, half-plea for sympathy. "Now, are you going to stand there and mock me, or are you going to tell me you have coffee in this house?"
Seeing the untouchable, arrogant Kim Taehyung defeated by a stuffed bunny and a girl who refused to stop posing was, frankly, the highlight of my week.
I walked over to the kitchen, feeling his gaze heavy on my back, dragging across my skin like a physical touch. "I'll get the coffee," I called out over my shoulder, my voice steadier than I felt.
When I came back, he had leaned his head back against the cushion of the armchair, his eyes closed. Even exhausted, he looked like a goddamn painting the sharp angles of his jaw, the soft slope of his nose, the way his throat moved as he let out a long, ragged sigh.
I set the coffee down on the table with a soft clink. He opened his eyes, the darkness of his irises catching the low light of the room. He didn't reach for the cup immediately. Instead, he just watched me, his expression shifting from 'exhausted puppy' back to something deeper, something that made the air in the room suddenly feel very thin.
"She's a handful," he murmured, his voice husky with fatigue. He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine as he took the coffee cup, his touch searingly hot against my cooling skin. "But she's not the one I was actually thinking about while I was standing in that gift shop."
My heart did a painful somersault. I tried to pull my hand back, but he didn't let go he just held it there, anchored to his, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line over my knuckles.
"You're tired, Taehyung," I whispered, though the words sounded like a plea rather than a statement. "Go home. Get some sleep."
"I have a better idea," he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, dangerous register that made my knees weak. He looked over at the couch where Jisoo was still blissfully oblivious, then back to me, his eyes dark with a challenge.
"Since your friend is currently dead to the world, why don't you skip the formalities and come with me now? The penthouse is waiting. And I'm far too tired to play games anymore."
He stood up, his height suddenly looming over me, blocking out the rest of the room. The scent of his cologne expensive, sharp, and intoxicating filled my senses, making it hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to remember why I was supposed to be afraid.
"Twenty-four hours," he reminded me, stepping into my personal space. "It starts now, little one. Are you coming, or do I have to carry you out just like her?"
The rest of my protest was cut off as the world suddenly tilted, shifted, and went upside down. One second I was standing on the solid floorboards of the living room, and the next, I was looking at the world from an inverted angle, clutching at the broad, solid expanse of his back.
He didn't even grunt under my weight. He moved with a terrifying, fluid grace, his grip on my thighs firm and possessive. My stomach did a somersault, and I started pounding my fists against his shoulders, my nails digging into the expensive fabric of his shirt.
"Put me down, you arrogant bastard!" I hissed, the blood rushing to my head, making my face burn with a mix of fury and intense humiliation. "I have a house to watch, a friend to look after do you even know what you're doing?"
He didn't say a word. He didn't even break his stride as he marched toward the front door. I could hear the faint, melodic sound of Jisoo's gentle snoring from the couch, a stark, surreal contrast to the man currently kidnapping me from my own living room.
I hated his back. I hated how solid it felt, how warm it was beneath my palms, and I hated the way my body seemed to instantly adjust to his rhythm. It was useless every kick, every shove just made him tighten his hold on me, his stride lengthening.
He kicked the front door open, the cool night air hitting my skin.
"You're a sociopath," I gasped, clutching his shirt even tighter as he descended the porch steps. "This is kidnapping! This is—"
"This is a contract," he interrupted, his voice vibrating through his chest and into my own body. He sounded terrifyingly calm, almost amused. He reached his car the same one that had brought us home and effortlessly opened the passenger door with his free hand.
He didn't toss me onto the seat; he lowered me with slow, deliberate care, trapping me between the seat and his body before I could even attempt to scramble out the other side. He leaned in, his face inches from mine, his dark eyes tracing the frantic expression on my face.
"You agreed to the terms, remember?" he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "I'm just making sure you don't find a way to break our deal before we even get started."
He slammed the door shut, and as he walked around the hood of the car, I realized with a jolt of panic that the locks had already clicked shut. I was trapped in his space, headed toward his penthouse, and the twenty-four hours of "official business" had officially begun.
I sat rigid in the passenger seat, arms crossed so tightly over my chest that my nails dug crescents into my palms. Every bump in the road sent a jolt through me, reminding me of how close Taehyung's hand rested on the gear shift dangerously near my thigh.
"You're quiet again," he observed, his voice low and velvety, cutting through the soft hum of the engine. His eyes flicked to me briefly before returning to the road, but I could feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch. "No more protests? No dramatic declarations about how this is 'wrong'?"
I glared at his profile, at the sharp line of his jaw and the way a single damp strand of hair still clung to his forehead. "What's there to say? You already carried me out of my own house like a caveman. Congratulations, you win the asshole of the year award."
A soft, dark chuckle escaped him. It sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "Careful, darling. Keep insulting me and I might start to think you enjoy the attention."
"I don't." The words came out sharper than I intended, but my voice wavered at the end. I hated how aware I was of him the faint scent of his cologne mixing with rain and exhaustion, the way his sleeves were rolled up to reveal the corded muscles of his forearms. I turned my face toward the window, watching droplets race each other down the glass. "This is just... temporary. Twenty-four hours. Then I go home, and you go back to pretending your marriage exists."
The car slowed as we approached a sleek high-rise that gleamed like a black monolith against the night sky. Taehyung pulled into the private underground garage, the tires whispering over polished concrete. He killed the engine but didn't move to get out. Instead, he turned fully toward me, one arm draped over the steering wheel. The dim overhead lights cast shadows across his face, making his eyes look almost black.
"You keep bringing up that marriage like it's some sacred barrier," he murmured. "Tell me, little one—when was the last time Ji-a and I were even in the same room without trying to tear each other apart? When was the last time she looked at me like anything other than a bank account with legs?"
I swallowed hard. "That doesn't make this okay."
"No?" He leaned closer, close enough that I could see the faint scar near his left eyebrow. "Then why is your pulse racing right here?"
His fingers brushed the side of my neck, feather-light, right over the frantic flutter beneath my skin. I jerked away, but there was nowhere to go.
"Oh, darling... touching is just the beginning. I have a feeling we're going to do things that are a hell of a lot more sinful than that."
I shoved the door open the moment it unlocked and stepped out on shaky legs. Taehyung was beside me in an instant, his hand settling possessively at the small of my back as he guided me toward the private elevator. I tried to step away, but he simply tightened his grip, pulling me flush against his side.
The elevator ride was torture. Just the two of us in a mirrored box, ascending smoothly. I could see myself reflected everywhere hair still slightly damp and wild from the earlier rain, cheeks flushed, eyes too wide. Taehyung stood behind me, his reflection towering, watching me like I was something he'd already decided belonged to him.
When the doors opened directly into his penthouse, I nearly forgot to breathe.
It was all sleek lines and dark luxury: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, minimalist furniture in charcoal and deep forest green, a massive fireplace already crackling with low flames. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and something undeniably him.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said, shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it over the back of a leather couch. "You'll be here a while."
I wandered a few steps, trying to put distance between us, but every movement felt observed. "Where am I sleeping?"
His laugh was soft, almost pitying. "Wherever you want. Though I have a very comfortable bed in the master suite."
I whirled on him. "I'm not—"
Taehyung didn't follow immediately. I heard the clink of glasses, the pour of liquid. When he appeared beside me, he held out a crystal tumbler with amber whiskey.
"Drink," he ordered softly. "You're wound tighter than a spring."
I took it, if only to have something to do with my hands. The first sip burned down my throat, spreading warmth that did nothing to calm the storm inside me.
"Why me?" I whispered after a long silence. "You could have anyone. Why go through all this... complication?"
He set his own glass down on the windowsill and turned me to face him with both hands on my shoulders. His expression had lost its usual smirk. There was something raw there now frustration, desire, and something deeper I didn't want to name.
"Because from the first time I saw you glaring at me across that godforsaken family dinner, I knew," he said, voice rough. "You're not like the rest. You don't simper. You don't chase. You fight. And every time you push me away, it only makes me want to pull you closer."
His thumb traced my lower lip, slow and deliberate. "Twenty-four hours, darling. By the end of it, you'll stop lying to yourself."
I should have stepped back. I should have thrown the whiskey in his face and demanded he take me home.
Instead, I stood frozen as he leaned down, his lips hovering just above mine close enough to feel the heat, not close enough to touch.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure I wanted to run.
Taehyung's mouth crashed down on mine hungry, demanding, no gentleness left. His hand fisted in my damp hair, yanking my head back to deepen the kiss until I tasted whiskey and raw possession. I gasped into his mouth and he swallowed it, tongue invading, claiming.
I shoved at his chest. He didn't budge.
Instead, he spun me around, pressing my front against the cold floor-to-ceiling glass. The city sprawled beneath us, oblivious, while his hard body pinned me from behind. One large hand wrapped around my throat not choking, not yet just holding me in place as his other hand ripped my shirt open. Buttons scattered across the marble floor.
"You've teased me long enough," he growled against my ear, teeth scraping my neck. "Twenty-four hours. You're mine tonight."
"Fuck you," I hissed, even as heat pooled low in my belly.
He laughed, dark and low. "That's the plan."
He shoved my pants and underwear down in one rough motion, kicking my legs apart. Cool air hit my exposed skin. I tried to twist away, but he grabbed both wrists, pinning them high above my head against the glass with one hand. The other slid between my thighs, fingers stroking roughly through my already slick folds.
"So wet for someone who claims to hate this," he taunted, plunging two thick fingers inside me without warning. I cried out, hips jerking. He curled them viciously, hitting that spot that made my knees buckle.
"Look at the city, darling. Imagine them watching you fall apart on my fingers."
He finger-fucked me hard and fast, thumb grinding against my clit until I was shaking, moans spilling uncontrollably. Right as I neared the edge, he pulled out.
"Not yet." He dragged me away from the window by my hair, marching me toward the massive bedroom. I stumbled, half-naked, but he didn't let me fall.
Inside, he threw me onto the enormous bed. Before I could scramble up, he was on me stripping the rest of my clothes with brutal efficiency. From the nightstand he pulled out black silk ropes and leather cuffs.
I hesitated. He slapped my thigh hard enough to sting.
I obeyed, trembling with a mix of fury and aching need. He bound my wrists to the heavy headboard, then flipped me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up so I was on my knees, ass raised, face pressed into the sheets. He secured my ankles spread wide to the footboard, leaving me completely exposed and immobile.
"Perfect," he murmured, running a hand down my spine. Then came the first sharp crack of his palm across my ass.
I yelped. He didn't stop spanking me hard, methodically, until my skin burned hot and my pussy dripped down my thighs. Each slap sent jolts of painful pleasure straight to my core.
Taehyung stepped back just far enough to admire me, eyes dragging over every exposed inch like he owned it. He shrugged off his own shirt, revealing the lean, sculpted torso I'd tried very hard not to think about for months. Then he unbuckled his belt.
He noticed. Of course he did.
"Scared, baby girl?" He pulled the belt free with a sharp snap of leather that made me flinch. "Or wet?"
He didn't wait for an answer. Two fingers slid between my thighs, stroking through the slick evidence of my arousal with humiliating ease. A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his throat.
"Drenched. And you still want to pretend you don't want this."
He brought his glistening fingers to my lips. "Open."
When I didn't immediately comply, he gripped my jaw and pushed them inside, letting me taste myself on his skin. "Suck."
I did shame and heat twisting together low in my belly.
Taehyung's fingers pressed deeper into my mouth, fucking them slowly against my tongue as I sucked obediently, tasting my own slick arousal. His dark eyes burned into mine, drinking in every flicker of humiliation and reluctant pleasure on my face.
"Good girl," he praised, voice rough with satisfaction. He withdrew his fingers with a wet pop and wiped them across my cheek, marking me. "Now you're going to take everything I give you."
He moved behind me again, and I felt the thick head of his cock nudge against my entrance, sliding through my drenched folds teasingly. I tried to push back, desperate for friction, but the ropes and cuffs held me spread and helpless.
He chuckled at my attempt. "So eager now. Where did all that fighting go?"
Without warning, he slammed into me in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch was overwhelming thick, hot, and so deep I cried out into the sheets. He didn't give me time to adjust. He started fucking me hard, hips snapping forward with punishing force, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.
Each thrust drove me forward against the restraints, my breasts rubbing against the sheets, nipples hard and aching. His hand cracked across my already sore ass again and again, alternating sides, turning the burn into liquid heat that made me clench around his cock.
"Count," he growled, fisting my hair and yanking my head back.
"One—ah! Two—fuck, Taehyung—"
He rewarded me by reaching beneath me to pinch and roll my clit between his fingers, never slowing his relentless pace. My orgasm built fast and vicious, coiling tight in my belly.
"Don't you dare come yet," he warned, slowing just enough to edge me cruelly. "You come when I allow it."
I whimpered in frustration, tears of overwhelming sensation pricking my eyes. He leaned over my back, chest pressed to me, teeth sinking into my shoulder as he ground deep.
"You feel that?" he rasped, rolling his hips in filthy circles. "This pussy was made for me. So tight. So fucking wet. All mine."
He straightened and reached for something off the nightstand. I heard the click of a cap, then cool liquid drizzled over my ass. His thumb circled my tight hole, pressing in slowly while he continued fucking my pussy.
I gasped at the dual sensation full, filthy, overwhelming.
"Relax," he ordered, working his thumb deeper. "You're going to take this too."
The pressure built as he added a finger, stretching me open while his cock kept pounding. The sensation was intense, borderline too much, but it sent sparks of dark pleasure shooting through me. I moaned helplessly, pushing back as much as the bonds allowed.
Taehyung groaned in approval.
"That's it. Taking both my cock and my fingers like a perfect little slut."
He replaced his fingers with something smoother and firmer a plug, I realized as he worked it in slowly, inch by inch, until it seated fully. The fullness was obscene. Every thrust of his cock now pressed against the plug, making me feel impossibly stuffed.
He picked up speed again, brutal and possessive. The plug shifted with every movement, driving me higher.
"Come," he commanded suddenly, reaching around to rub my clit fast and firm. "Come on my cock right now."
The orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave. I screamed, body convulsing, walls clamping down around him as pleasure ripped through every nerve. He fucked me through it, drawing it out until I was shaking and sobbing with overstimulation.
Only then did he let himself go. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep and came hard, pulsing inside me, filling me with hot spurts.
For a moment, the only sounds were our ragged breathing. He stayed buried inside me, one hand stroking soothingly down my sweat-slicked back.
He pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from my used pussy. The plug stayed firmly in place. He untied my ankles but left my wrists bound to the headboard. Then he flipped me onto my back, spreading my legs wide again.
"Look at you," he murmured, voice dark with renewed hunger. "Fucked out, plugged, dripping with my cum... and we still have hours left."
He climbed over me, caging me in, and kissed me deeply almost tenderly this time. When he pulled back, his eyes gleamed with wicked promise.
"Catch your breath, darling. Round two starts soon. And this time, I'm going to make you beg until your voice breaks."
He reached for the nightstand again, pulling out a sleek black vibrator. The low hum filled the room as he turned it on, pressing it lightly against my oversensitive clit.
I jerked, a broken moan escaping me.
The first pale light of dawn crept through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the penthouse in soft golds and pinks. I lay tangled in Taehyung's silk sheets, body aching in the most delicious and damning ways wrists still faintly marked, thighs sore, the plug long since removed but its memory burned into me. He was propped on one elbow beside me, tracing lazy circles over the curve of my hip with his fingertip.
The twenty-four hours were over.
"You're quiet again," he murmured, voice husky from hours of use.
"Regretting it already, little one?"
I turned my head to look at him. His hair was a mess, lips slightly swollen, and those dark eyes still held that dangerous hunger even after everything we'd done. I swallowed.
"I should," I whispered. "I should be running out that door and pretending none of this happened.
Jisoo... my sister... this is all so fucked up."
Taehyung's hand slid up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip with surprising gentleness.
"But you're not running." His voice was low, certain. "You're still here. In my bed. Covered in me."
Heat flooded my cheeks. I hated how right he was.
He leaned in, forehead resting against mine. "Tell me the truth. How does it feel to be ruined by your brother-in-law?"
I closed my eyes, a shaky breath escaping me. "Like I'll never be the same again. Like you broke something in me... and I liked it."
A dark, satisfied smile curved his lips. He pressed a slow, claiming kiss to my mouth before pulling back just enough to speak against my lips.
"Good. Because this wasn't twenty-four hours, darling. That was just the beginning." His fingers tightened possessively on my hip.
"I'm not letting you go back to pretending. Not after you screamed my name while I fucked you senseless. Not after you begged so prettily with my hand around your throat."
I shivered, but didn't pull away.
"What about Jisoo?" I asked weakly. "What about your marriage?"
Taehyung's expression hardened, but his touch stayed gentle.
"Jisoo will survive her little fantasy. And that marriage?" He let out a low, bitter laugh. "It died long before I ever touched you. I'll end it properly today. I want you. Openly. Messily. Without hiding."
He rolled on top of me, caging me beneath his body once more, eyes burning with promise.
"So tell me, baby... are you going to keep fighting this? Or are you finally going to admit you're mine?"
I stared up at him, heart hammering. The old version of me would have pushed him away.
Instead, I reached up, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him down into a kiss.
"...I'm ruined," I breathed against his mouth. "I'm yours."
Taehyung groaned in victory, deepening the kiss as the city woke up far below us.
