Warnings: dark and possessive Yoongi, kidnapping, captivity
Masterlist
Namjoon knew.
He had known for some time.
Which was exactly why he was currently sitting across from Min Yoongi in an empty studio feeling a headache forming behind his eyes.
"You look awful."
Yoongi didn't even glance up from his phone.
"Good morning to you too."
Namjoon sighed. Outside the studio door, he could already hear the others arriving. Voices growing louder as they moved down the hallway. A few more seconds. That was all they had. A few more seconds before the chaos started.
His eyes drifted toward the white bandage wrapped around Yoongi's hand. The sight still made irritation flare inside him. Not because of the injury itself. Because he knew exactly where it came from.
"You should've gone to the hospital."
Yoongi finally looked up.
"It was a scratch."
"It needed stitches."
"It got stitches."
Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes talking to Yoongi felt like arguing with a brick wall. A very stubborn brick wall.
A memory flashed through his mind uninvited.
A month ago. The same studio. The same couch. The same exhausted man sitting across from him. Only back then there hadn't been a bandage. There hadn't been security guards. There hadn't been a woman living in Yoongi's house against her will.
Just obsession. Raw. Growing. Dangerous.
Namjoon remembered staring at him for a long moment before finally asking the question neither of them wanted spoken aloud.
"What are you planning to do?"
Silence.
"I haven't decided."
Bullshit.
Namjoon had known immediately. Yoongi only got quiet like that when he'd already made up his mind.
"What if she leaves?"
The question had lingered heavily between them. Yoongi's expression never changed. But his answer came immediately.
"I'll bring her back."
No hesitation. Just certainty. Cold. Absolute. Like discussing the weather. Namjoon remembered feeling his stomach drop.
"Hyung."
Yoongi's jaw tightened.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Look at me like that."
The anger had arrived suddenly. Sharp enough to surprise even Namjoon. For the first time that night, Yoongi looked genuinely irritated.
"You think I don't know it's wrong?"
Namjoon said nothing. Because they both knew he did. Of course he knew. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that it wouldn't stop him.
"I know exactly what it is."
His voice had gone quiet. Dangerously quiet.
"I know what people would call it."
Silence.
"But I'm doing it anyway."
Namjoon remembered staring at him. Waiting. Hoping. For some hesitation. Some doubt. Some sign that this wasn't really happening.
It never came. Instead Yoongi leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes briefly. Looking more exhausted than Namjoon had ever seen him.
"When you've spent your entire life losing things..." he said quietly, "eventually you stop accepting it."
Something painful twisted in Namjoon's chest. Because he understood. Not agreed. Understood. There was a difference. A huge difference.
Unfortunately love had a way of blurring those lines.
The studio door suddenly opened. Loudly. Destroying the memory instantly.
"Why are you two always hiding in dark rooms?"
Jimin walked in first. Taehyung right behind him. Then Jungkook. Then everyone else. Within seconds the studio felt alive again. Noisy. Chaotic. Normal. Or as normal as BTS ever got.
"Hyung."
Hoseok dropped into a chair beside Yoongi and immediately frowned.
"Your hand."
Yoongi looked down. Ah. Right. The hand. He'd almost forgotten about it. Unfortunately everyone else noticed too.
"What happened?" Jungkook asked.
"Nothing."
"That doesn't look like nothing." Jimin insisted.
"It's fine."
"But Hyung-" Taehyung started, but immediately was cut off by annoyed Yoongi.
"I said it's fine."
Seokjin narrowed his eyes immediately. The way only Seokjin could. Like a parent who already knew their child was lying.
"You've said 'it's fine' three times."
"Because it's fine."
"It's definitely not fine."
"Did you get into a fight?" Jungkook leaned forward.
The room went quiet for half a second. Then everyone burst out laughing. Even Yoongi. A small laugh. Brief. Gone almost immediately. But enough. Enough for all of them to notice. The room slowly settled again. And that was when Hoseok tilted his head.
"Huh."
Yoongi glanced up.
"What?"
"You've been smiling a lot lately."
Instant regret. He should've known better. The second those words left Hoseok's mouth, every head in the room turned toward him except Namjoon. Like sharks smelling blood.
"Oh my god."
Jimin's eyes widened.
"Oh my god."
"No." Yoongi already sounded tired.
"No what?" Taehyung asked.
"Whatever you're about to say." Yoongi rolled his eyes.
"Namjoon hyung? Why aren't you curious?" Jungkook glanced up at Namjoon. "Do you know something that we don't?"
"Why does hyung know something and we don't?" Taehyung whined.
"There's someone." Jimin chirped.
"There isn't."
"There is."
"There isn't."
"There absolutely is."
His bandaged hand now forgotten, the accusations started flying immediately. Questions. Theories. Terrible guesses. Most of them wrong. Meanwhile Namjoon remained silent. Watching. Because unlike everyone else he already knew.
The others weren't going to let this go. Not today. Not anymore.
"Fine."
The single word cut through the room instantly. Everyone froze. Yoongi sighed. Already regretting it.
"Fine what?" Jungkook asked suspiciously.
"There is someone."
Dead silence. Then chaos. Pure chaos.
"What?!"
"HYUNG!"
"You're kidding."
"No way."
"When were you planning on telling us?"
"Did Namjoon hyung already know about this? Is that why he is silent this whole time?"
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Yoongi rubbed a hand across his face. A mistake. Immediately. Because now they were even louder. Questions coming from every direction.
Until finally Seokjin asked the one that mattered.
"When do we get to meet her?"
The room quieted instantly. Yoongi's expression changed. Just slightly. But enough. Enough for Namjoon to notice. Enough for Namjoon's stomach to sink. Because for the first time all morning Yoongi looked nervous.
:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:
The bed was empty when she woke up. For a few seconds she simply stared at the spot beside her. The dent in the mattress. The blanket folded neatly back where he had been sitting.
Gone.
A strange feeling settled in her chest. Not relief. Not disappointment. Something worse. Confusion. She groaned softly and threw an arm over her face. God. What was wrong with her?
The memory returned immediately. Clear enough to make her cringe.
"...Can you just stay until I fall asleep?"
The words echoed inside her head with horrifying clarity. She had asked him. Not the other way around. She had been the one who stopped him from leaving. The realization made her stomach twist.
"Idiot," she muttered to herself. Her voice sounded embarrassingly small inside the large bedroom.
She sat up slowly. The room was quiet. Sunlight spilled through the curtains. Everything looked normal. Beautiful even. And that was part of the problem. Nothing about this place looked like a prison. Nothing except the fact that she couldn't leave it. Her gaze drifted toward the door. The locked door. The invisible cage. Immediately guilt was replaced by anger.
Good. Anger was easier. Safer. Because the alternative was thinking about the look on Yoongi's face last night. The exhaustion. The honesty. The way he'd answered every question without trying to defend himself.
"I hate this."
"I know."
"You ruined my life."
"I know."
"Do you ever feel guilty?"
"All the time."
The memory made something ache unpleasantly inside her chest.
She hated it. Hated that she could still see traces of the man she'd admired for years. The man whose music had helped her survive some of the worst periods of her life.
The man who donated quietly. Who comforted people through songs. Who carried his own scars so openly.
That version of Yoongi still existed. And that was the problem. If he had been a monster, this would have been easier. If he screamed at her. Hit her. Threatened her. Humiliated her. She could hate him properly. Completely.
Instead he made breakfast. Remembered how she liked her tea. Sat outside her bedroom when she had nightmares. And looked at her like she hung the fucking moon.
A frustrated sound escaped her throat.
"No."
She shoved the blanket away.
"No."
Her heart was already trying to betray her again. Trying to soften. Trying to understand. Trying to empathize. Dangerous things. Very dangerous things.
Because understanding him didn't change reality. Understanding him didn't unlock the gates. Understanding him didn't give her back her life.
He still kidnapped you.
The thought landed hard. Necessary. Grounding.
He still took your phone. Your passport. Your freedom.
The anger settled again.
Good.
She needed the anger. Needed it like armor. Without it she was afraid of what might happen. Afraid of how easy it would be to stop fighting. To stop resisting. To accept the version of reality Yoongi kept trying to build around her. A life where this was normal. A life where this was love. A life where she belonged to him.
The thought made her chest tighten. Because a small, traitorous part of her was getting tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of being angry. Tired of carrying the same hatred every day. And that scared her more than anything else.
Because maybe the walls weren't the only thing trapping her anymore. Maybe exhaustion was starting to do the rest. The realization left a bitter taste in her mouth.
She climbed out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. Halfway there, a familiar cramp twisted low in her abdomen.
She froze.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
Another cramp followed. Stronger this time. And immediately she knew.
Not that she'd had any warning. Her periods operated on pure chaos, appearing days or sometimes even weeks late, basically showing up whenever they felt like it just to keep things interesting.
"No."
She closed her eyes.
"No, no, no."
Of course. Because apparently being kidnapped wasn't enough. Now her body had decided to join the conspiracy. Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.
The bathroom was warm.
Sunlight filtered through the frosted window, casting pale rectangles across the marble floor.
For a moment she just stood there staring at her reflection. Messy hair. Oversized sleep shirt. Dark circles under her eyes. She barely recognized herself anymore.
Another cramp twisted through her lower stomach. She winced.
"Fucking Fantastic." Her voice echoed softly around the empty room.
Just what she needed. Kidnapping. Identity crisis. And now this. Nature's lack of mercy.
She grabbed the edge of the sink and took a slow breath before opening one of the drawers beneath it. Mostly out of habit. She wasn't expecting much. Maybe towels. Maybe toiletries.
Instead she froze.For several seconds her brain genuinely failed to process what she was looking at.
Pads. Tampons. Multiple brands. Multiple sizes. Heating patches. Even chocolate.
Her eyes slowly moved across the neatly organized drawer. Then the next one. More. Everything. Absolutely everything. Already there. Already waiting. Prepared. A strange feeling bloomed inside her chest. Small. Warm. Dangerous.
Because for one awful second it felt... Thoughtful. Caring.
The realization hit so suddenly she physically stepped backward.
"No."
Her voice came out sharper than intended.
"No."
Her eyes dropped back to the drawer. The supplies remained exactly where they were. Silent. Innocent. And somehow that made them worse.
Because she knew exactly what had happened.
At some point... Weeks ago... Yoongi had stood in a store looking at period products. Thinking about her. Planning for her. Making sure she would have everything she needed.
The image arrived so vividly in her mind that it made her stomach twist. She could practically see him. Standing in front of shelves. Researching brands. Comparing labels. Trying to figure out what she preferred.
The thought should not have affected her. It absolutely should not have. Yet something painful tightened unexpectedly inside her chest.
Nobody had ever done that before. Not like this. Not with that level of attention. Not with that certainty.
And there it was. That horrible feeling again. The feeling that always arrived whenever Yoongi did something kind. The feeling she hated most.
Because it made everything complicated. It would be easier if he were cruel. Easier if he treated her badly. Easier if he gave her permission to hate him.
Instead he remembered things. Paid attention. Anticipated needs she hadn't even thought about yet.
The warmth spread through her chest before she could stop it. And immediately anger crashed down on top of it. Hard and violent.
"No."
She slammed the drawer shut. The sound echoed through the bathroom. Her breathing had quickened. She could feel it. Could feel herself slipping somewhere dangerous. Somewhere she absolutely could not afford to go.
"Come back to your senses."
She pressed both palms against the sink. Staring at herself in the mirror.
"This isn't caring."
The reflection stared back. Tired. Confused. Vulnerable.
"This is creepy."
Her voice sounded stronger now. More certain.
"He didn't buy these because he loves you."
Her throat tightened.
"He bought them because he planned for you to still be here."
Silence. The words settled heavily between her and her reflection. Because that was the truth. The real truth. Not the softened version her exhausted heart kept trying to create.
Yoongi hadn't stocked those drawers because he respected her. Or because he cared about her choices. He stocked them because he never intended to give her one.
A shiver crawled down her spine. Suddenly the drawer didn't seem thoughtful anymore. It seemed terrifying. Like another piece of evidence. Another reminder. Another quiet confirmation that this wasn't temporary.
That every detail of this life had been planned long before she arrived. The pads. The clothes. The books. The skincare. The room. The house. Her. Everything.
A prison didn't stop being a prison just because somebody put flowers in it. The thought settled heavily inside her chest. Grounding. Necessary.
Slowly she opened the drawer again. The supplies sat exactly where they had before. Neatly organized. Waiting.
She hated herself a little when relief still flickered through her.
Because despite everything, the cramps hurt. The heating patches would help. She obviously also needed the tampons and pads. And for the first time since waking up, she realized how exhausted she actually felt.
Her eyes lingered on the drawer for a few more seconds. Then finally she grabbed what she needed. Hating the strange mixture of anger and gratitude twisting together inside her chest. Hating that she couldn't separate them anymore.
And most of all hating that part of her understood exactly how happy it would make Yoongi to know she'd used them.
⸻⸻⸻⸻ ☽ ◯ ☾ ⸻⸻⸻⸻
By the time Yoongi got home, the cramps had become unbearable. Not enough to keep her in bed. Just enough to make everything irritating. The light was too bright. The couch wasn't comfortable enough. Her own skin felt wrong.
She was curled up beneath a blanket when she heard the front door open. A familiar knot immediately formed in her stomach. She hated that she could recognize the sound of his footsteps now. Hated that she knew the rhythm of them.
The house had been too quiet all day. Now suddenly it wasn't.
"Y/N?"
His voice carried through the hallway. A moment later he appeared in the living room. The second his eyes landed on her, his expression changed. Subtly. But enough. Concern replacing whatever exhaustion work had left behind.
She immediately looked away.
"Don't."
He blinked.
"Don't what?"
"Look at me like that."
A pause.
"You don't feel well."
Not a question. Of course not. Nothing ever escaped him.
She groaned and pulled the blanket higher.
"I'm fine."
"You look miserable."
"Thank you."
To her annoyance, a faint smile appeared on his face. Small. Brief. Gone almost immediately. He stepped closer.
"You ate?"
She hesitated. Bad sign. Yoongi sighed.
"You didn't."
"I wasn't hungry."
Another lie. They both knew it.
Without another word, he disappeared toward the kitchen. She rolled her eyes and pulled the blanket higher around herself.
A few minutes later, she heard cupboards opening. Water running. The soft clink of ceramic against the counter. The faint smell of ginger and honey drifted through the room.
Her curiosity eventually won. She looked toward the kitchen.
Yoongi was standing at the stove stirring something carefully, shoulders relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen all day.
“What are you making?” she called.
“Tea,” he answered without looking up. “The ginger one. It usually helps with cramps.”
That caught her off guard for a different reason.
“You know that?”
“I know a lot of things.”
His tone was light, almost teasing.
She should have found the answer unsettling. Instead, she felt herself watching him longer than intended.
He moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, measuring honey without checking, testing the temperature with the back of a spoon. Nothing clumsy or uncertain about it.
Twenty minutes later they ended up sitting in the living room with steaming mugs between them, snacks, fruits, blankets. The television playing quietly in the background. Neither of them actually watching it.
For the first time in weeks, they weren't arguing. Not because anything had been resolved. Because she was tired. And because Yoongi seemed determined to distract her from the fact that her body was actively trying to kill her.
Apparently his chosen method was storytelling.
For a while he just talked. Not about them. Not about what happened last night. Not about the house. Just... things. Small things. Work. The studio. The members.
At first she only listened because it was easier than thinking about the dull ache twisting through her stomach. Easier than thinking about where she was. Then somewhere along the way she realized she was actually listening. Really listening. Not because he was her captor. Not because he was trying to distract her. Because he was Yoongi.
The same Yoongi whose voice had filled her headphones for years. Whose songs she knew by heart. Whose interviews she'd watched late at night when she couldn't sleep. The same man who had once existed safely behind a screen. A person she had admired from a distance for so long that sometimes it still felt surreal to hear him talking about his day from the other end of the couch.
The realization settled uneasily inside her chest. Because for a few minutes she had forgotten herself. Forgotten the house. Forgotten the locked gates. Forgotten why she was supposed to hate him. And that frightened her more than she wanted to admit.
"...and then he called me three times."
She blinked and looked up from her mug. At some point she'd stopped listening and gotten lost in her own thoughts.
"Who?"
"Jungkook."
"Three times?"
"Three times."
"Why?"
Yoongi stared at her.
"He forgot where he parked."
A laugh escaped before she could stop it.
"What?"
"He was standing directly in front of the car."
"No way."
"Yes. He sent a picture."
That made her laugh again. A real laugh this time. Yoongi felt something warm settle quietly inside his chest. He continued before she could catch herself.
"Then Namjoon spent twenty minutes looking for his phone."
She immediately pointed at him.
"Don't tell me." A knowing look crossed her face.
Yoongi's mouth twitched. "It was in his hand."
Her eyes widened. "No."
"Yes. He asked all of us to help him find it."
A disbelieving laugh escaped her. "You're lying."
"I'm not."
"He was holding it the entire time?"
"The entire time."
"Oh my god."
"He even called it from someone else's phone."
That did it.
She dropped her head back against the couch and laughed. The kind that made her eyes crinkle.
"That's actually ridiculous."
"I know."
"Please tell me somebody said something."
"Jin hyung told him maybe the phone got tired of him and ran away."
That earned another laugh. God. He missed hearing her laugh. The realization hit harder than expected. For a moment he simply watched her. The way her eyes crinkled. The way her shoulders relaxed. The way she looked younger when she wasn't angry. Safer. Happier.
His chest tightened. He looked away first.
"You know," she said after a moment, "you make them sound normal."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Something shifted immediately.
Yoongi looked at her over the rim of his mug.
"They are normal."
She smiled faintly. "No."
His eyebrow lifted. "No?"
"No." She shook her head. "They're BTS."
For the first time all evening, Yoongi laughed. Actually laughed. A short, genuine sound. And somehow hearing it in person felt completely different from every video she'd ever watched.
"We're really not that interesting."
She gave him a look. "You sold out Wembley."
"So did Ed Sheeran."
"You are impossible."
"So I've been told."
A quiet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he lifted his mug. The sight caught her off guard. Not because of the smile. Because of how familiar it felt. The way he sat on the opposite end of the couch. The way he talked about the members. The way he casually complained about his day over tea. For a moment it felt so normal that it was almost easy to forget herself. Almost.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the mug.
Years ago she would have given anything to sit across from Min Yoongi and listen to him talk about his day. Back then it had been an impossible fantasy. Something that belonged to late-night daydreams and concert videos. Now it was reality. A twisted, ruined version of it.
Yet somehow the old excitement still lingered beneath everything else. And she hated herself a little for it. The realization made something uncomfortable twist inside her chest. The tea suddenly tasted bitter.
She stared down into the mug. Trying not to think too hard about any of it. Eventually a comfortable silence settled between them.
Then Yoongi spoke again. Almost casually.
"The boys want to meet you."
Everything inside her froze. Her head snapped up immediately.
"What? You mean...?"
Yoongi leaned back slightly against the couch.
"Yes, I mean the members."
The room suddenly felt smaller. Her pulse quickened.
Meet her? Meet her how? As what? A fan? A girlfriend? A hostage? A secret?
Did they know? Did they know what he'd done?
The questions came so quickly they almost made her dizzy.
Surely they didn't. Surely if they knew, someone would've stopped him. Someone would've said something. Wouldn't they?
Or maybe they did know. And if they did know... What did that say about them?
Maybe they all knew. Maybe they were all helping him. The thought made her stomach turn. Are six of the most loved men in the world willing to look the other way?
Then another thought arrived. Quieter. More dangerous. Outside. People. The outside world. For the first time in months. Her heart skipped.
Maybe... Maybe this was it. Maybe this was finally an opportunity. A chance. A mistake on Yoongi's part. A crack in the cage. She opened her mouth. Already thinking. Already planning. Already imagining.
But Yoongi spoke first. Calmly. Without looking at her. Like he'd already followed every thought racing through her head.
"But I don't think you're ready for that yet."
Silence. Her stomach dropped.
Slowly, Yoongi lifted his eyes to hers. And the look in them told her everything.
He knew.
Every hope she'd allowed herself to feel over the last five seconds. Every possibility. Every escape plan.
He'd seen it all. And crushed it before she ever had the chance to speak.
The tea suddenly felt cold in her hands.
While across from her, Yoongi simply took another sip of his own.
As calm as ever.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Author's Note
Dear readers of DDY,
Thank you so much for all the love, support, comments, and theories you've been leaving. ❤️
I'm finally back from my holidays and, to make up for the wait, today's chapter is a little extra long. I hope you enjoyed spending some more time with our favorite problematic man and his very complicated situation. 😌
Also, after seeing all the struggles with notifications and taglists lately, I tried formatting the taglist differently this time. Fingers crossed it actually works and everyone gets notified properly.
As always, thank you for reading, screaming, suffering, and enabling my questionable writing decisions.
Warnings: dark and possessive Yoongi, kidnapping, captivity
Masterlist
After that night, Yoongi stopped touching her almost entirely.
No casual hands against her waist while passing in the hallway.
No brushing hair away from her face.
No absentminded fingers against the small of her back guiding her through rooms.
Nothing.
The distance should have relieved her.
Instead, the absence became noticeable everywhere.
Especially because Yoongi still looked at her the same way.
That terrifyingly focused attention never changed.
If anything, it grew worse.
Like he was constantly thinking.
Calculating.
Monitoring himself as carefully as he monitored her.
And she realized something slowly over the following weeks:
Yoongi was afraid of himself.
Not in a dramatic way.
Not because he thought he would hurt her physically.
Because he knew exactly how deeply obsessed he’d become.
Knew how fragile his self-control actually was beneath all the calmness.
So now he compensated by tightening control elsewhere.
More cameras appeared around the property.
The guards rotated more frequently.
The gates required multiple access codes now.
And every single male employee disappeared from the mansion completely.
At first she didn’t even notice.
Then one morning she looked around the breakfast table and realized every staff member in the house was female.
Every maid.
Every cook.
Every assistant.
Every cleaner.
She laughed in disbelief.
“You cannot be serious.”
Yoongi looked up from his coffee.
“What?”
“You replaced every male employee.”
He continued stirring sugar slowly into his cup.
“Yes.”
“Because of what? Jealousy?”
“Partially.”
The honesty stunned her every single time.
“Yoongi, that’s insane.”
“No,” he said calmly. “It’s preventative.”
She stared at him.
“You hear yourself, right?”
“I don’t want strange men around you.”
“They weren’t strange men! They were employees.”
Yoongi finally looked at her properly then.
Dark eyes steady.
Sharp.
“They looked at you too much.”
Heat crawled unpleasantly up her neck.
“What?”
“The cook especially.”
The bluntness caught her off guard completely.
“You’re imagining things.”
“I’m not.”
His expression hardened slightly.
“They knew you were vulnerable.”
“I’m not vulnerable.”
“You are here.”
“You don’t get to decide who’s dangerous to me.”
“Yes,” Yoongi said softly. “I do.”
The conversation ended there.
Like most conversations with him did.
Not because he shouted her down.
Because once Yoongi decided something, it became immovable.
Absolute.
The psychological exhaustion started affecting her more around the second month.
Not acceptance.
Not affection.
Just exhaustion.
Living in a constant state of fear and anger took energy she eventually no longer had.
Especially because Yoongi remained relentlessly consistent.
He never hit her.
Never screamed at her.
Never retaliated when she lashed out emotionally.
He simply endured her hatred with horrifying patience while continuing to care for her anyway.
And slowly that consistency began wearing cracks into her anger.
Not because she forgave him.
Because human beings weren’t built to sustain that level of emotional intensity forever.
One night she woke from a nightmare screaming and gasping hard enough to make herself dizzy.
For several confused seconds, she thought she was back home.
Then reality returned all at once.
The room.
The house.
Him.
Panic surged immediately through her chest.
Before she could fully calm herself, the bedroom door opened.
Yoongi stepped inside instantly, hair messy from sleep, concern obvious across his face.
“You okay?”
She stared at him silently, still breathing hard.
Of course he heard.
Of course he came.
Yoongi moved closer carefully.
“You were crying.”
“I’m fine.”
It was obviously a lie.
He sat slowly on the edge of the bed, keeping distance between them.
Not touching.
Never touching unless invited now.
“What was the dream about?”
“You.”
The answer slipped out before she could stop it.
Pain flickered across his expression immediately.
Still, he stayed calm.
“What happened in it?”
“You wouldn’t let me leave.”
Silence settled heavily between them.
Then he said quietly:
“That’s not a dream.”
Something about the honesty shattered her composure unexpectedly.
Tears burned suddenly behind her eyes again.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
Yoongi looked down at his hands for a long moment before answering.
“I know.”
“You ruined my life.”
Another pause.
Then:
“I know.”
God.
Why did he always do that?
Why did he never defend himself properly?
She wanted him to justify it. Argue back. Give her something clean to fight against.
Instead he accepted every accusation while still refusing to let her go.
It was maddening.
“I don’t understand you,” she said shakily.
Yoongi’s jaw tightened faintly.
“That makes two of us.”
She wiped angrily at her face.
“I don’t even know why you want me this much.”
That made him go very still.
For a second, she thought maybe he wouldn’t answer.
Then finally:
“Because you saw me correctly.”
The room felt heavier immediately.
She frowned slightly. “What does that even mean?”
Yoongi hesitated.
Like he was deciding whether to say anything at all.
“Everyone else,” he said finally, “sees pieces of me.”
A pause.
His fingers flexed once against his own palm.
“The idol. The producer. The celebrity. The version they need.”
He exhaled quietly through his nose.
“No one really listens past that.”
Her expression shifted slightly. “That’s not true.”
“It is,” he said simply.
That made her go quiet.
Yoongi’s gaze lowered briefly.
“Telling people you’re tired gets old. After a while they stop hearing it.”
Silence stretched.
“But you didn’t.”
That landed differently.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
“That fansign conversation?” he continued quietly. “You didn’t treat me like something to consume. You actually understood things I’ve never explained out loud.”
He glanced at her then.
Not intense.
Just direct.
“You listened like it mattered.”
She swallowed.
His eyes finally lifted to hers again.
“It felt like finding oxygen after years underwater.”
The intensity in his gaze made her breath catch slightly.
There it was again.
That unbearable sincerity.
Not manipulation.
Not performance.
Real feeling.
Raw enough to make her uncomfortable.
“I didn’t know what to do after that,” Yoongi admitted softly. “I tried thinking rationally about it. Tried giving you space.” A humorless smile flickered briefly across his mouth. “Didn’t work.”
She stared at him silently.
Because for the first time since being taken, he sounded tired of himself too.
“I knew I was becoming obsessed,” he said. “I’m not stupid.”
“Then why didn’t you stop?”
The question hung heavily between them.
Yoongi answered immediately.
“Because I didn’t want to.”
The honesty stole the air from her lungs.
No excuses.
No denial.
Just truth.
“I could’ve let you leave Korea,” he continued quietly. “I could’ve convinced myself texting was enough. But eventually you would’ve moved on.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “And I couldn’t tolerate that outcome.”
The terrifying part was how logically he framed it.
Like he had genuinely evaluated every possibility before deciding this one was preferable.
“You say that like it’s reasonable.”
“No,” Yoongi corrected softly. “I say it because it’s true.”
Silence stretched between them again.
Then finally she asked the question she’d secretly wondered for weeks.
“Do you ever feel guilty?”
His expression changed immediately.
Not defensive.
Worse.
Sad.
“All the time.”
The answer stunned her.
“Then why—”
“Because guilt isn’t stronger than my feelings for you.”
His voice stayed calm.
Certain.
“And if I let guilt decide things,” he added quietly, “I would lose you.”
Something painful twisted unexpectedly in her chest.
Because she believed him completely.
Yoongi stood slowly from the bed then.
“I’ll leave you alone now.”
He turned toward the door before she spoke again suddenly.
“…Wait.”
He stopped instantly.
The single word affected him visibly.
She noticed that too.
Her throat tightened slightly.
“I…” God, why was this difficult? “Can you just stay until I fall asleep?”
Yoongi went completely still.
For one terrifying second, she thought maybe she’d made a mistake.
Then he answered softly:
“Of course.”
He sat back down carefully beside the bed, keeping the same respectful distance as before.
Neither spoke again.
But long after her breathing finally evened into sleep, Yoongi remained awake beside her, staring quietly into the dark with something dangerously close to happiness settling inside his chest.
Word Count: 5,885 // angst (toxic relationship, friends to lovers, yandere behavior, possessiveness, jealousy, mention of physical harm, mention of neglect), smut (rough sex/slight dub-con, fingering, omorashi, asphyxiation, forced creampie), no fluff
Childhood friend!Taehyung X Childhood friend!Reader
Summary: You and Taehyung were inseparable once. When you come back to your hometown after three years, fate pulls you back to him. And this time, Taehyung won’t ever keep his eyes off of you.
Please have a look and let me know if I added everyone who wanted to be on this taglist. Also let me know if your name was added here accidentally and you actually did not want to be on the taglist, then I will remove you. :)
Warnings: dark and possessive Yoongi, kidnapping, captivity
Masterlist
After the knife incident, things changed.
Not dramatically.
That was the problem.
If Yoongi had screamed at her or locked her in a room or threatened her, she could have held onto her anger cleanly. Could have hated him without complication.
Instead, he became gentler.
More careful around her.
And somehow that felt worse.
The next morning, every sharp object in the kitchen was gone.
Not just knives.
Scissors. Corkscrews. Peelers. Even glass dishes disappeared, replaced with soft plastic versions that made her feel humiliated every time she used them.
Yoongi never mentioned it directly.
Never threw the incident in her face.
But she noticed the changes everywhere.
The bathroom mirror had been replaced with one that couldn’t shatter.
Medication cabinets were locked now.
Balcony doors required codes.
It was suffocating.
Because none of it felt malicious.
It felt… preventative.
Like Yoongi had spent the entire night thinking not about how she might hurt him, but how she might hurt herself in another moment of panic.
That realization unsettled her deeply.
Especially because she could still remember the expression on his face when she’d raised the knife.
And every time she caught sight of the bandage still wrapped around his hand, shame twisted low in her stomach again.
Because even injured, Yoongi never once acted like she had hurt him.
Only like he was worried she had almost hurt herself.
Not fear.
Heartbreak.
Two days later, she stopped speaking to him entirely.
At first, Yoongi assumed she just needed space after the incident.
He respected that.
Mostly.
He still checked whether she ate. Still sat quietly across from her during meals even when she ignored him completely. Still asked whether she slept well despite receiving no answer.
Patient.
Steady.
But underneath that patience, frustration slowly began building.
Because silence from her felt unbearable.
He could survive anger.
Survive screaming.
Even survive hatred.
At least those things meant she was engaging with him.
But this?
This felt like disappearing.
And after weeks of carefully managing every interaction between them, Yoongi knew exactly why she was doing it.
Punishment.
Maybe not consciously.
But she had realized something important the night of the knife incident:
Her affection affected him far more than his control affected her.
So now she withheld everything.
No eye contact.
No replies.
No acknowledgment whatsoever.
And despite all his discipline, it was working.
By the fourth day, Yoongi looked exhausted again.
She noticed immediately.
Of course she did.
He sat at the dining table scrolling absently through his phone while untouched food cooled between them. His jaw looked tense. His eyes shadowed from lack of sleep.
“You need to eat,” he said quietly after nearly ten minutes of silence.
She continued staring out the window.
Something flickered in his expression.
“Please.”
Nothing.
Yoongi set his phone down carefully.
“You don’t have to forgive me,” he said evenly. “But this isn’t productive.”
Still nothing.
His chest tightened painfully.
God.
He missed her voice.
It was pathetic.
He knew it was pathetic.
But after finally experiencing what it felt like to have her attention fully on him, this silence felt unbearable.
“Talk to me.”
She stood abruptly from the table and walked away.
The chair legs scraped loudly against the floor.
Yoongi closed his eyes briefly.
That sharp ache returned to his chest again.
The same one that had existed ever since she tried to leave him.
Except now there was something uglier mixed into it too.
Resentment.
Not toward her.
Toward the situation.
Toward the fact that he was doing everything possible to care for her and she still looked at him like a monster.
Some nights he lay awake wondering if there was any version of this where she eventually loved him willingly.
Other nights he decided he didn’t care anymore.
As long as she stayed.
The punishment happened accidentally.
At least that was what Yoongi told himself afterward.
She had started pushing boundaries more aggressively lately.
Nothing major.
Small things.
Testing him.
Seeing how far she could go before he reacted.
Ignoring curfew inside the house.
Refusing meals.
Attempting to access locked doors.
Once, she even tried flirting subtly with one of the younger guards just to watch Yoongi’s expression darken from across the room.
That one had almost made him lose his composure entirely.
The guard disappeared the next day.
She felt guilty afterward.
Not because of Yoongi.
Because the guard had looked genuinely terrified when security abruptly removed him mid-shift.
Still, some cruel part of her had enjoyed seeing Yoongi affected for once.
Enjoyed proving he wasn’t nearly as calm and detached as he pretended to be.
Which was exactly why she pushed too far that evening.
Yoongi returned home late after an especially stressful schedule.
She could tell immediately.
His shoulders were tight beneath his coat. His expression distant and exhausted as he loosened his watch while walking into the kitchen.
“You waited up?” he asked softly after noticing her sitting there.
She shrugged.
Truthfully, she had.
The realization annoyed her.
Yoongi moved automatically toward the refrigerator before pausing slightly.
The female maid normally responsible for preparing late meals was gone tonight.
Instead, one of the older male kitchen staff stood near the counter finishing cleanup.
And she was talking to him.
Laughing softly at something he’d said.
Yoongi stopped moving.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
The staff member noticed first.
His face paled immediately.
“Sir.”
Yoongi’s gaze stayed fixed on him.
“How long has he been in here with you?”
The question wasn’t directed at the staff member.
It was directed at her.
She leaned back in her chair slowly.
“A while.”
Wrong answer.
She saw it immediately in the subtle shift of Yoongi’s jaw.
“He shouldn’t be alone with you.”
“Why?” she asked coolly. “Scared I’ll run away with him?”
The older man looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor.
Yoongi remained very still for a moment.
Then said quietly:
“Leave.”
The staff member bowed quickly and practically fled the kitchen.
Silence settled heavily afterward.
She crossed her arms.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You know the rules.”
“Oh my god,” she laughed sharply. “You really are jealous of every man who breathes near me.”
“Yes.”
Again.
No hesitation.
No embarrassment.
Just blunt honesty.
“You don’t own me.”
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like it!”
Yoongi looked at her carefully.
Measured.
“Did you enjoy provoking me?”
The question caught her slightly off guard because he sounded genuinely curious.
Not angry.
That only irritated her more.
“At least someone around here reacts like a normal person.”
Something hardened subtly in his expression.
There.
Finally.
A crack.
“You think I’m not reacting?”
“You act like nothing bothers you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then maybe show it once in a while!”
The words echoed sharply through the kitchen.
Silence followed.
Yoongi stared at her for several long seconds.
Then he spoke quietly.
“Go upstairs.”
Her stomach tightened instantly.
“What?”
“Go to your room.”
The calm authority in his voice made heat flare through her chest immediately.
“No.”
His eyes darkened slightly.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“There it is,” she snapped, standing abruptly. “There’s the controlling asshole underneath all the fake patience.”
Yoongi’s composure slipped for the first time in weeks.
Not explosively.
Coldly.
“You deliberately crossed a boundary tonight.”
“A boundary?” she laughed incredulously. “You mean speaking to another human being?”
“You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“And what if I did?”
Silence.
Then finally:
“Upstairs.”
Her pulse quickened.
Something about his tone made the room suddenly feel smaller.
She hated that part of herself still responded instinctively to his authority now.
Hated that living with him had already started conditioning her reactions.
“No.”
Yoongi stepped closer slowly.
“You need to calm down.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Her voice cracked sharply through the kitchen, but Yoongi didn’t answer immediately this time.
That was new.
He just stood there watching her, jaw tight beneath the exhaustion on his face.
Something unsettled in her chest at the sight.
Usually he would soften things.
Usually he would de-escalate.
Tonight he only looked tired.
“I hate this,” she said shakily. “I hate the way you act like this is normal.”
His gaze dropped briefly toward the floor before returning to her.
“I’m trying to make this easier for you.”
The answer hit something raw inside her.
“Stop acting like you’re helping me!” she snapped. “You kidnapped me!”
“I know.”
Not defensive.
Not angry.
Just tired.
And somehow that exhausted acceptance made her even angrier.
“You stand there acting calm and reasonable while you keep me trapped here like some fucking pet!”
Before she fully realized what she was doing, she shoved him hard.
The movement happened fast.
Too fast.
Something in Yoongi finally snapped.
“Stop fucking pushing me!”
His hands closed around both her wrists instantly, and before either of them fully processed it, he shoved her backward hard enough for her lower back to hit the kitchen counter with a sharp sound.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.
Silence crashed into the room.
Yoongi froze.
So did she.
For one horrible second, neither of them moved.
His grip around her wrists was tight.
Too tight.
His chest rose heavily beneath the dark fabric of his shirt, composure hanging by a thread now instead of sitting neatly behind his expression like usual.
And for the first time since she’d met him, he looked angry.
Not explosive.
Not violent.
Worse.
Restrained anger.
The kind dragged down under months of pressure and sleepless nights and constant self-control.
“Stop pushing me.” He repeated.
The words came out low and strained.
Almost rough.
A chill crawled suddenly down her spine.
Because he sounded human now.
Not careful.
Not endlessly patient.
Just exhausted.
Worn thin.
She stared up at him, breathing unevenly, suddenly hyperaware of how trapped she was between his body and the counter edge digging into her spine.
Then panic flickered across her face.
Tiny.
Instinctive.
But Yoongi saw it immediately.
And the second he did, everything in him seemed to break.
His hands released her so fast it was almost violent in reverse.
Like he couldn’t get away from her quickly enough.
Horror crossed his expression.
Real horror.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology came instantly.
Too fast.
Too genuine.
He took an actual step backward from her, breathing hard now, like he was disgusted with himself for losing control even for a second.
But the damage had already settled between them.
She rubbed at her wrists automatically despite the fact he hadn’t truly hurt her.
The gesture twisted something viciously inside his chest.
Because for one brief moment, in his hands she had been afraid of him again.
And after everything he’d done to keep her here, to convince himself he was protecting her, that expression still shattered him completely.
Warnings: dark and possessive Yoongi, kidnapping, captivity
Masterlist
Three weeks into captivity, Yoongi finally made a mistake.
Until then, he had controlled everything carefully.
Too carefully.
That was what made living with him so psychologically exhausting.
He anticipated problems before they happened. Thought through consequences. Avoided unnecessary conflict whenever possible. Even when she screamed at him, insulted him, refused food, ignored him for days, he rarely reacted emotionally in the moment.
He absorbed it.
Adjusted.
Adapted.
Like he was trying to build a life around her resistance instead of crush it outright.
Which was exactly why she hated him so much.
Because some traitorous part of her kept noticing the effort.
And she did not want to notice it.
Did not want to see the way he came home exhausted at three in the morning and still checked whether she had eaten dinner. Did not want to notice him quietly replacing the tea she hated with the one she liked after overhearing her complain once under her breath.
Did not want to think about how carefully he maintained physical distance from her after realizing sudden touch made her panic.
It would have been easier if he were cruel.
Instead, he acted like a man trying to earn affection he had no right to ask for.
And that made everything uglier.
More confusing.
More dangerous.
Especially because despite all his self-control, Yoongi was still possessive.
Terribly possessive.
She discovered that slowly.
At first, it was subtle.
A female maid began bringing her meals instead of one of the older male staff members after Yoongi noticed him lingering too long during conversation.
One afternoon, she mentioned an actor she found attractive while watching television.
Yoongi went quiet for the rest of the evening.
The next day, every drama featuring that actor had disappeared from the streaming recommendations.
Another time, one of the security guards smiled at her sympathetically after she dropped a glass in the kitchen.
Yoongi replaced him within twenty-four hours.
She noticed.
Of course she noticed.
“You’re unbelievable,” she snapped one night after realizing yet another male staff member had suddenly vanished. “What, are you worried someone’s going to steal me from you?”
Yoongi looked up from his laptop calmly.
“Yes.”
The immediate answer stunned her silent.
He didn’t even sound embarrassed.
“I’m not your girlfriend.”
“I know.”
“You don’t own me.”
“No,” he agreed quietly. “But I am responsible for you.”
The phrasing made anger flare instantly inside her chest.
“I’m not a fucking pet.”
His jaw tightened faintly.
“I never said you were.”
“That’s how you treat me.”
“No,” Yoongi said softly, closing the laptop carefully. “If you were a pet, this would be much easier.”
Something uncomfortable twisted in her stomach at the exhaustion in his voice.
He looked genuinely worn down lately.
Not regretful.
Just tired.
Like loving her had become something painful and relentless.
Good, she thought bitterly.
He deserved it.
The knife incident happened on a Thursday.
It started badly from the beginning.
Yoongi had been gone almost the entire week because of schedules, leaving before sunrise and returning late into the night. She barely saw him except during exhausted late-night dinners where he looked half-dead from lack of sleep.
And despite herself she had started waiting for those dinners.
Not because she liked him.
Because they broke the silence.
Because after weeks trapped inside the house, Yoongi had become the only real constant in her life.
She hated that realization violently.
So when he came home especially late that night smelling faintly of expensive perfume that wasn’t hers, something ugly and irrational twisted sharply inside her chest.
A female stylist had apparently hugged him after a recording.
He mentioned it absentmindedly while loosening his watch.
“She got foundation all over my jacket,” he muttered, annoyed.
And somehow that was enough.
“Poor thing,” she snapped before she could stop herself. “Must’ve been so difficult for you.”
Yoongi looked up immediately.
The hostility in her tone surprised him.
“What?”
“You seem very close.”
Realization flickered across his face slowly.
Then something warmer followed.
Dangerously warm.
“Are you jealous?”
Her expression hardened instantly.
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
Yoongi noticed.
Of course he noticed.
A small smile tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth for the first time all week.
“I barely spoke to her.”
“I don’t care.”
“You do.”
“I really don’t.”
“You’re upset.”
“I’m trapped in a house against my will,” she snapped sharply. “Of course I’m upset.”
The warmth disappeared from his face immediately.
Right.
There it was again.
The wall between them.
Yoongi exhaled quietly and stood from the table.
“I’m going to shower.”
“Have fun.”
He paused slightly at the bitterness in her voice before leaving without another word.
The moment he disappeared upstairs, guilt irritated her immediately.
Not because she felt bad for him.
She absolutely did not feel bad for him.
She was just frustrated.
Restless.
Angry all the time lately.
Angry at him. Angry at herself. Angry at the way isolation had started warping her emotions into something unrecognizable.
And worst of all, angry because she had felt jealous.
The realization made her feel sick.
Yoongi found her in the kitchen twenty minutes later.
She stood barefoot near the counter cutting fruit aggressively with one of the kitchen knives the staff had apparently forgotten to lock away after dinner prep.
The second he saw the knife in her hand, his entire body tensed.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for her.
His voice stayed carefully neutral.
“Baby.”
She looked up sharply.
“What?”
“You shouldn’t have that.”
Humiliation burned hot through her instantly.
Of course.
Of course he didn’t trust her.
“You think I’m going to stab you?”
“I think you’re upset.”
“So?”
Yoongi approached slowly.
Calmly.
Always calm.
“It’s dangerous when people are emotional and armed.”
Something in the wording pushed her over the edge.
Weeks of captivity.
Isolation.
Confusion.
The constant psychological pressure of him always being there.
Always watching.
Always understanding too much.
She snapped.
“Do you know what’s dangerous?” she laughed sharply, gripping the knife tighter. “Being kidnapped by a fucking psychopath!”
Yoongi stopped moving immediately.
Not angry.
Alert now.
“Put the knife down.”
“No.”
Her breathing had quickened hard and uneven.
She suddenly felt trapped all over again.
Trapped in the kitchen.
Trapped in the house.
Trapped inside his life.
“You don’t get to control every single thing I do!”
“I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“You’re keeping me prisoner!”
His expression tightened slightly.
“Please lower your voice.”
The calmness shattered something inside her.
“Fuck you!” she screamed, tears burning suddenly down her face. “I hate you! I hate you so much!”
Pain flashed across Yoongi’s face before disappearing behind control again.
“Okay.”
“Stop saying okay like this is normal!”
“You’re distressed.”
“No shit!”
She hurled the cutting board violently across the room.
It crashed loudly against the cabinets.
Yoongi didn’t even flinch.
That only made her angrier.
“You think you know me so well?” she cried. “You think this is love? You don’t love me! You love controlling me!”
“No,” he said quietly. “I love you.”
The certainty in his voice made her chest ache with frustrated fury.
“You don’t even care that I’m miserable!”
“That’s not true.”
“Then let me go!”
Silence.
Heavy.
Final.
“No.”
The word broke whatever fragile restraint she still had left.
Before either of them fully realized what was happening, she lunged forward and shoved him hard.
Yoongi stumbled backward into the counter, genuine surprise flashing across his face for the first time that night.
Then everything unraveled at once.
The knife came up between them in one frantic movement. Not planned, not deliberate, not even fully conscious.
Just panic. Rage. Fear exploding all at once.
Yoongi reacted instantly.
His hand shot out and caught her wrist before the blade could reach him.
A sharp sound cut through the kitchen.
For a second, neither of them understood what had happened.
Then Yoongi’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly.
Her eyes dropped.
Blood welled across his palm in a thin red line where the blade had sliced into him during the struggle.
The sight ripped the air from her lungs.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
The knife still hovered inches from his chest.
Yoongi’s bleeding hand remained locked around her wrist, blood slipping between his fingers and dripping steadily onto the floor. Crimson streaked across his skin, spotted the front of his shirt, slid down the edge of the counter.
If his reflexes had been even a second slower, the knife would have gone into his chest instead.
The realization hit her so hard she nearly stopped breathing.
The kitchen fell completely silent except for their uneven breaths and the soft drip of blood against tile.
She stared at the knife in horror.
At his blood.
At her own hand still holding the weapon.
Yoongi stared back at her.
Not angry.
Not frightened.
Devastated.
That was somehow worse.
Slowly, carefully, his grip loosened around her wrist.
The knife slipped from her numb fingers and crashed against the floor.
Without taking his eyes off her for long, he pushed the knife farther away across the tile with his foot.
“You could’ve hurt yourself,” he said softly.
Not you could’ve hurt me.
Her throat closed painfully.
“I—I didn’t mean…”
The words shattered apart before they could fully leave her mouth.
Tears spilled down her face instantly, hot and humiliating.
Not because he was hurt.
Because she no longer understood what she was becoming.
Yoongi finally glanced down at his bleeding hand as though he’d forgotten about it entirely.
When he reached toward her with his uninjured hand, she flinched backward automatically.
The reaction landed visibly.
Like something inside him cracked quietly under it.
But his voice remained painfully gentle.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Don’t touch me,” she whispered, broken.
Yoongi stopped immediately.
Silence swallowed the kitchen again.
Then, after a long moment, he said softly:
“I’m going to lock the knives away from now on.”
The shame hit harder than any punishment ever could.
And from the exhausted sadness in Yoongi’s eyes, it hurt him too.
Warnings: dark and possessive Yoongi, kidnapping, captivity
Masterlist
The first week was the worst.
Not because Yoongi hurt her.
Because he didn’t.
That was what unsettled her most.
She had expected screaming. Violence. Threats. Maybe chains. Maybe bruises. Something monstrous and obvious she could point to and say there, that’s evil, that’s wrong, that’s the villain.
Instead, Yoongi remained terrifyingly calm through all of it.
Methodical.
Patient.
He moved her into a large house on the outskirts of Seoul within twenty-four hours of taking her from the hotel. Somewhere private. Hidden. Expensive enough that every locked door somehow looked elegant instead of sinister.
The bedroom he gave her was bigger than her apartment back home.
There were fresh flowers on the nightstand.
A stack of books in her language.
Clothes in her size.
Skincare products she’d casually mentioned liking once during a text conversation.
It made her skin crawl.
Because it meant he had listened to everything.
Remembered everything.
Planned everything.
“Do you like it?” he asked quietly the first time he showed her the room.
She stared at him in disbelief.
“Are you serious?”
Yoongi’s expression tightened slightly, but he stayed composed.
“I want you comfortable.”
“I want to go home.”
A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, controlled almost immediately.
“I know.”
The calmness in his voice infuriated her.
“How are you acting like this is normal?”
He leaned lightly against the doorway, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.
Because unlike her, he had already accepted what this was.
Accepted what he had done.
Accepted that there was no version of reality anymore where he let her leave.
“I know this is difficult for you right now,” he said evenly. “But I need you to understand something clearly from the beginning.”
She glared at him silently.
“I am not going to hurt you. I’m not going to force myself on you. I’m not going to punish you for being upset with me.” His gaze held hers steadily. “But you are staying here.”
The finality in his tone chilled her more than shouting would have.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I already did.”
Her chest tightened.
God.
He sounded so rational.
So controlled.
Like he’d genuinely weighed every possibility before arriving at this conclusion.
It made him infinitely more frightening.
“You think this is love?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
No embarrassment.
Just certainty.
“And eventually,” he continued quietly, “you’re going to understand why.”
At first, she refused to speak to him unless necessary.
Yoongi expected that.
Prepared for it.
He gave her space while still remaining constantly present somehow. If she skipped meals, he noticed. If she slept badly, he noticed. If she cried in the bathroom at night thinking nobody could hear her, somehow he noticed that too.
And he always responded the same way.
Patiently.
Steadily.
Like this was a long-term process instead of a crisis.
That patience began wearing her down faster than aggression would have.
Because she couldn’t predict him.
One evening, three days after arriving at the house, she finally exploded.
“You’re insane,” she snapped as he set dinner down in front of her untouched for the third time. “Do you understand that? None of this is okay!”
Yoongi sat across from her quietly.
“You haven’t eaten all day.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I don’t care!”
“You should.”
The sharpness in his voice surprised both of them.
Silence fell immediately afterward.
Yoongi exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face before speaking again.
“I know you hate me right now.”
“I do hate you.”
A tiny pause.
“I know.”
No defensiveness.
No anger.
Just acceptance.
And somehow that made the guilt twist unpleasantly in her stomach.
She hated that.
Hated that he could make her feel guilty while being the one holding her captive.
Yoongi looked exhausted lately. Sleeping only a few hours between schedules and rushing back home immediately afterward. She noticed dark circles beneath his eyes getting worse every day.
Not that she cared.
She absolutely did not care.
“Eat,” he said quietly.
“No.”
His jaw flexed slightly.
“Please don’t start fighting me over basic things.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
His gaze lifted to hers carefully.
Measured.
“I actually do.”
The reminder made anger flare hot inside her chest.
Without thinking, she grabbed the plate and shoved it off the table.
The ceramic shattered loudly against the floor.
Food scattered everywhere.
Silence.
Her breathing came hard and uneven immediately afterward.
Part of her expected him to finally snap.
But Yoongi only stared at the broken plate for a moment before looking back at her.
Disappointed.
Not furious.
Somehow worse.
“You could’ve hurt yourself.”
She laughed sharply.
“Seriously? That’s your concern right now?”
“You’re barefoot.”
His eyes flicked meaningfully toward the shattered ceramic pieces near her feet.
Something inside her twisted painfully.
Because he genuinely was worried about that.
Not the mess.
Not the disrespect.
Her.
“I’m not hungry,” she said again, weaker this time.
Yoongi studied her silently for several long seconds.
Then finally stood.
“Okay.”
That caught her off guard.
“…Okay?”
“You don’t have to eat right now.” He moved calmly around the broken plate, crouching to begin collecting shards carefully. “But I am going to make you something else later.”
She stared at him.
“You’re just letting this go?”
“I understand why you’re angry.”
“That doesn’t make this okay!”
“I know.”
“There you go again!” she snapped. “Acting reasonable like this isn’t some horrifying thing you’re doing!”
Yoongi placed another ceramic shard onto the tray quietly.
“I don’t think kidnapping you was morally good.”
The bluntness startled her silent.
“I think it was necessary.”
Her stomach dropped slightly.
There it was again.
That terrifying logic.
Not impulsive obsession.
Not blind madness.
Conviction.
“I tried to think of another solution,” he continued calmly. “I did.”
“You could’ve just let me leave.”
His expression hardened slightly for the first time all evening.
“No.”
The single word landed heavily between them.
Because he meant it completely.
He rose to his feet again, setting the tray aside.
“I knew what would happen if I let you go back home.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough.”
He stepped closer slowly.
Not threatening.
Intentional.
“You would’ve gone back to your normal life. Maybe we’d text for a while. Then less. Then eventually not at all.” His eyes stayed fixed steadily on hers. “And I would’ve spent the rest of my life thinking about you.”
Something emotional flickered briefly across his face before smoothing away again.
“I’m not interested in surviving you,” he said quietly.
The honesty knocked the breath from her lungs for a second.
And she hated that some part of her understood it.
Not agreed with it.
Understood it.
That dangerous loneliness underneath him.
That desperation to hold onto the first person who made him feel seen instead of consumed.
It made resisting him emotionally much harder than resisting cruelty would’ve been.
Because cruelty was simple.
Yoongi wasn’t simple.
That was the problem.
The first escape attempt happened fourteen days later.
She’d been watching carefully.
Learning routines.
Studying the guards.
Yoongi never physically restrained her, but the house itself was heavily secured. Keypads. Cameras. Locked gates. Staff everywhere.
Still, eventually she noticed something.
Every Thursday night, one of the maids took trash bags out through the side entrance shortly before midnight.
The alarm remained disabled for exactly forty seconds.
It wasn’t much.
But it was enough.
She waited until the house quieted completely before slipping carefully from her room barefoot, heart hammering violently against her ribs.
The hallway was dark.
Silent.
Every tiny sound felt deafening.
She moved quickly downstairs, pulse roaring in her ears as she approached the side entrance.
Thirty more seconds.
Twenty-five.
The maid disappeared outside briefly.
Now.
She ran.
Cold night air hit her face as she slipped through the partially closed door and sprinted toward the outer gate barefoot across wet pavement.
Freedom.
Oh my god.
Freedom.
Adrenaline surged wildly through her body.
She almost cried from relief.
Then—
“Stop.”
Yoongi’s voice.
Behind her.
Calm.
Too calm.
She froze.
Slowly turned.
He stood several yards away near the driveway dressed entirely in black, hands tucked into his pockets.
Like he’d been expecting this.
Rain dampened dark strands of hair against his forehead.
His expression wasn’t angry.
Just tired.
Disappointed.
“How—”
“The cameras alerted me when you left your room.”
Her stomach dropped.
Of course they did.
“You monitored my room?”
“I monitor the entire house.”
She backed away instinctively.
“I’m leaving.”
“No.”
“You can’t keep me here forever!”
Yoongi walked toward her slowly.
Measured.
“You’re freezing.”
“I don’t care!”
“You don’t have shoes on.”
“Fuck you!”
Something flickered briefly across his face at the outburst, but his voice remained controlled.
“Come back inside.”
“No.”
Rain soaked through her thin pajamas now, making her shiver violently.
Yoongi noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
“You’ll get sick,” he said quietly. “Come on, don't make it difficult.”
“I’d rather get pneumonia than stay here.”
The words landed harder than she intended.
He stopped walking.
For a second, something genuinely wounded crossed his expression.
Then disappeared.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“No,” he said softly. “You’re just trying to hurt me.”
The terrifying part was that he sounded correct.
Like he knew her already.
Yoongi stepped closer again.
“This doesn’t have to be miserable for you.”
“You kidnapped me!”
“And I’m taking care of you.”
“You’re controlling me!”
“Yes.”
The blunt honesty startled her.
“I’m controlling your environment because right now your decisions are based entirely on fear and anger.” His gaze stayed steady on hers. “I’m waiting for the point where they aren’t.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“You hear yourself, right?”
“I hear myself perfectly.”
Rain dripped steadily from his hair now.
Neither moved.
Finally, quietly he said:
“Come inside, baby.”
The softness in his voice nearly broke her unexpectedly.
Just a little update from me: 🌸
I’ll be away on holiday for the next 2 weeks, so I unfortunately won’t be able to respond to messages, interact much, or add new people on the taglist during that time. 🥺✈️
But please don’t hold back!! 💕
Your comments, reactions, and support always make me so happy, and they genuinely motivate me more than you know. 🥹💖 I’ll still be reading everything once I’m back!
The good news is: I’ve already scheduled the next 4 chapters for you all. 🌟
There will be 2 chapters per week while I’m gone, so the story will continue even if I’m not around hehe 😌😏📚✨
Once my vacation is over, I’ll come back and reply to everyone properly. 🤗💕
Thank you again to every single person who reads, likes, reblogs, comments, and supports this story. It truly means the world to me. 🌷
Take care of yourselves and have a wonderful time everyone!! ☀️💞
bc people forget that brat tamer namjoon wouldn’t even have to be harsh to completely ruin his rude little gf.
like she’s being all mouthy and spoiled all day, catching attitudes for no reason, acting innocent after every sarcastic comment… and he just lets her.
calm smile, patient hands on her waist, acting like he’s not already planning on dealing with her later.
and then later he’s got her over his lap, hand coming down against her ass while she squirms and keeps trying to act stubborn.
rubbing soothing circles over her skin right after, talking to her all soft while reminding her to apologize properly for her behavior.
the type to keep teasing her, hand between her thighs, rubbing her sensitive clit, making her more and more desperate while he stays completely calm abt it.
never letting her get what she wants too easily until she finally stops acting bratty and melts for him instead.
Making her cum while he talks her through it, maybe she squirts a bit and praise her for it too.
thats why gentle dom namjoon is so insane to me bc he wouldn’t need to yell or get aggressive.
he’d tame his baby through patience, control, and making her crave his praise and touch so badly that she folds on her own eventually.
“Please let me cum, plsplsplsplspls”
“ im sorry! Im s-so sorry i was rude , I promise I won’t do it again please!”
“ yeah? It takes you to be a brat for me to touch you ,baby? Is that what it is? You wanna get under my skin and spank you senseless. Is that what you want ?”
“ yeah, good girl. You’re a good girl aren’t you, You just want to be touched and squirt on my lap. Why can’t you ask nicely, hm baby? You had to be a brat all day for me to touch you, isn’t it?”
After some editing and decisions to cut some material from the fic (it may be posted later as a drabble or a part 2), I am proud to present, Mafia Yandere Hoseok and his precious.
yandere mafia au
19.4k words
pairing: Hoseok x reader
beta readers: @pennyellee and @chimchimsauce
“Precious,” his voice rang out through the building. “Darling, it’s time to come out now.”
She didn’t come out, choosing instead to press herself further back into her hiding place with her hand clamped over her mouth to stop any noise that might give away her position from slipping out.
“Aren’t you tired, precious?” he asked, his footsteps echoing. “Aren’t you ready to go home?”
His footsteps stopped and there was an agonizing moment of silence before he spoke again but it wasn’t to her. “Fan out. I want this place swept from top to bottom. Keep all the exits sealed.” He ordered, voice hard and demanding. “I don’t want her hurt. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” the lackey acknowledged and there was quickly a series of orders fired off, directions on where everyone was to search.
“It’s okay, darling.” he spoke again, his tone completely different as he addressed her than when he was giving orders. “I’m not upset. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
She could hear the heavy sounds of boots falling on concrete as his men spread out in search of her.
There weren’t a lot of places to hide in the warehouse. The building clearly wasn’t in use, and there was only a handful of abandoned crates and machinery to provide shelter. She was hidden behind a group of crates, holding her breath as his men started their search for her.
“You’ve been driving me crazy all day, not knowing where you were.” he chuckled, the sound half tired and half something else, something almost manic. She was pushing the limits of his patience. She knew that, but she still couldn’t bring herself to come out of her own accord. She’d work too hard for this opportunity to simply give herself up.
They both knew that she wasn’t getting away. He’d chased her down and cornered her here knowing full well it was a dead end. He wouldn't hurt her, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her slip away.
The sound of tactical boots was closer to her now. They were slowly but surely closing in on her, methodically going over every inch of the warehouse in search of her hiding spot.
It was a small miracle she’d even gotten this far. No, he never hurt her, but security around her was tight, ensuring that she stayed safely tucked away right where he wanted her. She was always right where he wanted her.
It was infuriating, and somehow his seeming lack of anger made it all the worse. No matter what she did, he had a seemingly endless supply of patience. She could spit in his face, and he’d still smile at her like it was all a game. Even now as she pushed every boundary set for her, he didn’t seem angry. He seemed tired, worried even, but not angry.
The crate she was hiding behind shifted, and an unfamiliar face peered down at her.
“Sir, we’ve found her!” He shouted before turning his attention back to her. “Ma’am.” He tilted his head respectfully, holding out a hand to help her up.
She didn’t take it, not even as she heard the others rapidly approaching.
“Precious.” he breathed a sigh of relief and a smile stretched across his features as she came into view.
Immediately she was pulled up and out of her crouched position as he crushed her to his chest, his fingers tangling into her already messy hair. There was no space between them as he held her close, as though he was frightened she’d slip through his fingers again or disappear altogether.
“There you are.” he murmured into her hair before pulling back so he could get a good look at her face, a smile spreading across his lips as he took her in. “You had me worried sick.”
She pulled back and stared at him silently, unsure how to proceed or what he was going to do next.
Tenderly, he pushed back the hair obscuring her features, taking in the dirt and dust that had settled over her face and clothes over the course of her adventures with disapproval. “Let’s get you home, darling.”
Hoseok scooped her up, keeping her close to his chest as he strode towards the exit to where the car was waiting to take them back to her gilded cage.
Y/N had to wonder as he carried her how she had gotten herself into this predicament in the first place.
It had all started with a funeral
Y/N stared at herself in the mirror trying to figure out how she was going to hide the marks littered across her neck and collarbones for the funeral. She couldn’t very well show up to her own brother’s funeral looking like she’d just gotten her back blown out. She was fairly impressed by the heart shaped hickey resting on the outer edge of her collarbone though. It was cute in its own way even if it would be a bitch to hide.
She eventually settled on a high-necked black dress. It had elbow length sleeves to accommodate for the warming spring weather, but the high neck hid the worst of the marks along her collarbones. The rest residing on her neck she could cover with makeup. The ones littering her thighs and hips would thankfully be kept a well hidden secret underneath her dress.
She was only in the city to arrange and attend the funeral. She’d moved away for college and hadn’t looked back. Kai, on the other hand, had stayed and thrived in the less savory part of the city. He’d already been caught up in it when they were teenagers and had only gotten more entrenched as time had gone by until it had finally caught up with him.
Y/N had gotten a call from one of her brother’s friends last week to let her know that Kai had been shot. Y/N had immediately packed a bag and gotten in the car. By the time she’d made it to the city, Kai was gone.
His friends had graciously offered her a place to stay while she arranged the funeral, but she had declined in favor of staying with a friend of her own who lived in the city. As kind as the offer had been, she didn’t want to have any more contact than needed with her brother’s friends. They were a mix of boys she remembered from her teenage years and new faces, but she knew well enough that they were all at least partially entrenched in the same life that had gotten her brother killed.
Staring at her neck as she began to apply careful layers of concealer, Y/N was struck again by the thought that a one night stand the night before her brother’s funeral probably hadn’t been her wisest idea. Hana had thought a night out would help get her mind off of everything. Y/N hadn’t thought that she’d intended for the night out to lead to mind-blowing sex and end with her sneaking out of one of the most gorgeous apartments she’d ever seen. Y/N was choosing to blame the lack of judgement on the mix of grief and vodka.
Y/N managed to cover her hickies for the most part. They at least wouldn’t be obvious to anyone at a passing glance. She didn’t really want anyone at the funeral thinking she was a whore even if her actions the previous night had been decidedly slutty.
The funeral itself went much as any funeral did, and then Y/N was left to deal with the seemingly endless throng of people coming to give their condolences. Most of them she knew to be Kai’s friends and associates. The roughened and scarred knuckles and the tattoos peeking out from beneath collars and shirt sleeves all but confirmed it. Kai had some of those same tattoos. She may not have seen or talked to Kai often over the past few years, but she recognized some of those tattoos.
The entire affair was exhausting. Y/N was sick to death of people telling her they were sorry for her loss. She almost thought she might scream if she heard it one more time. When her eyes fell on the newest arrival, she thought she might scream for an entirely different reason.
Her eyes had first been drawn to him because of the odd hush that had fallen over the space. All eyes had gone to him, not just hers, and for good reason. He had an intimidating aura, a presence that demanded respect. He was shrouded in a pair of dark slacks and a dark button down which had been generously unbuttoned to show off a glimpse of his chest. The jacket that was meant to go with the ensemble was stylishly draped over his shoulders, and gold flashed at his neck and his wrist. All eyes were on him as he made his way over to where she was standing. His making his way to her wasn’t wholly surprising. She was, after all, the only family member for anyone to pass on their condolences to. She’d heard dozens of half hearted apologies for her loss already, but this man didn’t seem the least bit grieved to be there. The expression on his face was more bored than anything else.
She kept her eyes on him as he approached, analyzing him. He was tall but not too tall. His build was all lean muscle like a dancer's would be, and he moved with the same grace one would expect of a dancer. The sharp planes of his face combined with his dark hair and his build to make a rather impressive figure overall- one that was undeniably handsome and a little intimidating.
She wasn’t the only person in the room that seemed to find him thus. Everyone else held themselves still and quiet as they watched him in a mix of respect and apprehension. She did as well, but with a distinct nausea thrown into the mix as well.
He stopped in front of her, reaching out a slender hand to take hers into his own, her own hand engulfed in his grip as he smiled at her. It was an oddly heart shaped expression though the joy that one would typically associate with a smile wasn’t there. It didn’t meet his eyes, and those, she found, were cold and dead like a shark’s.
The hands she had shaken all throughout the day were rough and calloused, and most of the suits that she had seen were ill-fitting, nothing like the impeccable fit of the man who stood before her. The man who now faced her was something wholly different, and she couldn't quite place how he had known her brother. Kai had been fairly low in the ranks as far as she had been aware. This man with his elegant hands and designer clothes didn’t seem like a follower. He didn’t sit low in the rank of anything if she had to take a guess. This was a man who wielded a fair amount of power. Worse than that, he was the man she had spent last night with, and he was looking at like the cat who had caught the canary.
“Hello again, precious.” he purred, and a cold sweat broke out across the back of her neck as she felt all the blood drain from her face. He had yet to release her hand, stroking his thumb across her knuckles.
“Hoseok.” she whispered his name, still unsure how he had come to be here but becoming increasingly nauseated by the possibilities of why.
He pouted, lips turned down at her lackluster response. “That’s all I get after last night?”
Her eyes widened, lips parted in shock at the blatant mention of their previous activities. “Hoseok!” she hissed, ripping her hand from his as her eyes frantically darted around the room to see if anyone had heard him.Unfortunately, most eyes in the room were glued to the two of them, and she could only assume they were all straining to hear what was being said as well.
“I was so upset to find my bed empty this morning, precious.” He sighed, rolling his shoulders back. “But how lucky I am to find you here! It must be fate!”
Lips set in a grim line, Y/N reached out and snatched his wrist, all but dragging him from the hall in an effort to get him away from the watchful eyes of the congregated mourners.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, dropping his wrist as though it had burned her as soon as they were outside of the funeral hall and away from the prying eyes and listening ears within.
“I can’t be here to see you?” He asked flirtatiously.
“It’s a funeral.” she deadpanned.
Y/N took a fortifying breath, squaring her shoulders as he met his eye with the best mask of indifference she could muster despite the war of emotions raging within. She didn’t want him there, but she didn’t need to let him know how much seeing him was truly bothering her.
“What are you doing here?” She repeated.
Hoseok arched a brow, taken aback by her cold reception of him. Hoseok wasn’t normally one for sleepovers, but it had bothered him to wake up that morning without her in his bed. He’d enjoyed their night together, and he’d thought she had too if the multiple orgasms were anything to go by. Panic followed by cold indifference was not the reaction he had been expecting from her, but he hadn’t been expecting to see her at one of his rival’s funerals either. He wasn’t complaining about the turn of events though. If anything, he was intrigued.
“I’ve come to pay my respects to the recently deceased.”
Her expression became even colder as she took in that information. It was confirmation of everything she had feared he was when he’d walked through the door.
“How did you know my brother?” She asked, staring him down with the best intimidating stare she could muster much to Hoseok’s continued amusement.
“Kai and I moved in similar circles.” He admitted nonchalantly. “Though I didn’t know he had such a delicious sister.”
Her jaw ticked in irritation. “Stop that.”
“Stop what, precious?”
“Implying things.”
Hoseok grinned, a wide toothy expression filled with an almost malicious glee. “It’s not an implication if you know, and I do know you, darling- quite intimately.” He leaned in so that they were cheek to cheek, his next words whispered into the shell of her ear. “I can still taste you on my tongue.”
Y/N flinched back, her cheeks reddening and her nostrils flaring as she tamped down her temper. “Of all the vile vulgar things to say. This is a funeral for god’s sake.”
His grin widened. “We could always talk about this more privately- back at my place.”
Y/N stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out how much audacity someone had to have to try to seduce someone at a funeral or how stupid they had to be.
She huffed out a sigh, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her heels had been painfully digging into her toes for the better part of an hour, and she had no patience to deal with this man and his blatant propositions.
“Are you absolutely insane? Have you lost your mind?” She asked, taking a step forward into his space much to his surprise. “This is a funeral. Worse, this is my brother’s funeral. Whatever momentary lapse of judgment I had last night- whatever mix of vodka and grief led me to the horrendously bad decision of sleeping with you is done. It’s over. I will not be repeating that particular mistake again. Now would you kindly leave?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. “I am trying to grieve in peace.”
Hoseok stared at her, taking a moment of his own to take in the woman who stood before him. She was red-eyed and irritable, and yet he found her as enchantingly beautiful as he had the night before when he’d taken her to his bed- perhaps even more so now as he was the subject of her ire.
He laughed, a full bodied high pitched laugh that did nothing to settle her nerves or lessen her anger.
“Precious, you are something else.” he spoke through the last of his laughter.
“Are you going to leave?” She asked, crossing her arms under her chest. “Or should I have you thrown out?”
“I’m Jung Hoseok, darling.”
He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, as though she should already know what that meant and the implications thereof.
Y/N stared at him for a second as though that was supposed to mean anything to her before letting out a scoffed sardonic laugh of her own. “I don’t really care who you are. This is still my brother’s funeral, and I don’t want you here.” She shrugged. “So thank you for coming, but you’re not wanted here.” She gestured lazily towards the exit as she spoke, trying her best to convey to the man, who she was beginning to think was more than a little thick , just where she wanted him to go.
The smile on his lips froze in place, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he took in her words. “Excuse me?”
She smiled, the expression mirroring his own shark-like grin as she leaned in, mirroring his earlier move. “The dick wasn’t that good anyway.” She whispered into his ear before backing away, smile still in place. “Thank you for coming, but you can go now.”
“Precious…”
“You can go now.” she repeated, dead serious as she stared him down.
He tongued his cheek, scoffing as he glanced away for a moment before returning his sharp gaze to her.
“If you came for seconds, there is nothing left for you here.” She interjected before he could say anything. “Lights out, doors closed.”
Hoseok stared at her, his retort dead on his tongue as she gazed at him expectantly. No one spoke to Jung Hoseok that way, least of all the women that he took to his bed, but here she was staring at him like he was the dirt beneath her shoe. Hoseok could barely picture her as the same woman who had been writhing beneath him in the throes of pleasure just a few mere hours before. This wasn’t the woman whom he’d littered with love bites as he’d made her cum over and over again. That woman had been inviting and enchanting. She’d been more than eager to submit to him. The woman before him now was just as enchanting, but she was cold as ice as she deigned to banish him from the funeral all together. There was nothing submissive about her, and Hoseok didn’t think he’d ever been more turned on in his life.
As he stood there contemplating the fact that his pants were suddenly a little bit tighter than would be considered comfortable, Y/N had already begun to move away from him, intent on returning to the funeral hall and leaving him behind without so much as a glance back in his direction.
His hand shot out, quick as a snake, to grab her by the wrist. His hold was tight but not bruising as he pulled her back into his orbit, eyes fixed on her a kind of adoring awe that made the uneasy feeling in her stomach once more develop into fullblown nausea.
“Precious,” he began, his voice a purr. “That’s not very nice of you- especially not when we got along so well last night.”
He held back a smile as he watched her lips purse in irritation.
“Get your hands off of me.” She grumbled, attempting to push his hand from its position gripped against her wrist.
Instead of releasing her, as she so clearly wanted him to do, Hoseok proceeded to pull her even closer, his free arm moving to wrap itself around her waist until he had her almost flush against him.
“I don’t appreciate disrespect, darling.” He cooed, fingers intimately splayed across her waist. “You’ll learn that with time.”
“I told you to get your hands off me.” she hissed, struggling against his hold.
“You liked my hands on you last night.” He pointed out with a grin stretched wide across his features.
“That is not the point!”
Hoseok shrugged, smirk still playing on his lips. “I think it is.”
“You’re despicable. This is a funeral.” She huffed, giving up her struggle as she came to the morbid realization that she wasn’t going to get out of his grip if he didn’t want her to. His hold was like steel, unmoveable, and yet surprisingly gentle.There was no intent to harm her in it, only to keep her close.
“We could have done this this morning if you hadn’t run off. A bouquet by the bedside. Breakfast in bed. Morning sex.” His smile was teasing as he waggled his brows at her suggestively.
“I don’t want any of that with you.”
“You wound me, precious.”
She huffed out a frustrated breath, once more pushing against his hold in an attempt to get him to release her. “I’m about to if you don’t let me go.”
“Have dinner with me.”
Y/N froze, all thought leaving her head as she tried to process what he’d just said. It seemed too ridiculous a thing for him to actually have said. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Have dinner with me.”
It sounded equally as ridiculous the second time.
“You must be out of your fucking mind.”
“Only for you, precious.”
Y/N gave one last hard shove, and Hoseok released her, allowing her to take several stumbling steps back as she tried to compose herself, her mind whirring with the insanity of his proposal. Last night had been a mistake. She had already admitted that to herself. She just hadn’t thought that it would have such an array of consequences. Nothing had prepared her for a clingy one night stand, let alone one that ran in the same less than legal circles as her own brother.
As she straightened out her dress and hair, both disheveled from her time in his arms, Y/N made the mental note never to drink anything mixed with vodka ever again.The aftereffects simply weren’t worth it.
“I think you should go.”
“Excuse me?” Hoseok’s head tilted to the side like an inquisitive dog as though he was trying to figure out if he had heard her correctly or not.
Y/N rolled her shoulders back, holding her head high as she stared him down. “Leave. You aren’t wanted here.”
His grin took on a sharklike quality as she spoke, all sharp edges with no real humor behind the expression. “No one speaks to me like that, precious.”
“Maybe they ought to.” She sniffed primly, a cold mask of indifference shifting into place despite the unease that he sparked within her.
“That’s not very nice, precious.”
“You’ve done nothing to deserve nice, and stop calling me that! I’m not your anything, let alone your precious.” she sniffed, disdain dripping from every word.
“Oh, I disagree.” He purred, expression still vaguely predatory as he sauntered closer to her, closing the distance between them. “I think you’re very precious, sweetheart. Maybe the most precious thing there is.”
“Despicable.” She spat, slapping his hand away as he moved to brush away one of the errant tendrils of her hair.
Hoseok straightened, squaring his shoulders and fixing the lapels of his suit. “I’ll leave you to grieve in peace, precious, but I’ll be seeing you soon.”
“I hope not.”
He reached out a slender hand, taking one of hers in his and raising it to his lips brushing a gentle kiss against her knuckles.
She yanked her hand back as soon as his lips made contact with her skin, hiding the offending limb in her skirts.
Hoseok chuckled, a smooth rich sound that carried all the mirth his previous smile had not. “Until next time, precious.”
Y/N didn’t wait for him to speak again. Instead she turned on her heel, heading back towards the funeral hall with a staunch refusal to sneak a glance backwards to see if he was still there. The prickling sensation of eyes on the back of her neck told her all she needed to know on that account.
No sooner had Y/N re-entered the funeral hall thanSuho, one of the friends of her brother’s she actually did know, came up to her brows furrowed with concern as he scanned her from head to toe as though trying to assure himself she wasn’t hurt in any way which was odd, but she shoved that thought to the back of her head. It by far wasn’t the strangest thing to happen that day.
“Suho.” She smiled tiredly, allowing the man to hug her. “Thank you for coming.”
He didn’t respond, releasing her from the hug and grabbing her by the arm to drag her away from prying ears. “You need to leave.”
“What?”
Suho sighed impatiently, moving them both towards the exit as he did. “I don’t know why Jung Hoseok was here or how you know him, but you need to leave.”
“Jung Hoseok?” Her brows furrowed quizzically. “He said he was an associate of Kai’s. I don’t particularly like him, but he’s already gone. Not much he can really do to disrupt things now.”
Suho grimaced at that, practically pushing her out the door into a side hallway. “Jung Hoseok is not our associate. He’s not our friend, and he’s certainly not our ally.”
That caught her interest. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that he’s made it his personal mission in life to try to eradicate us.”
“You don’t mean…”
“I do.”
Y/N froze, her blood running cold as she processed the information. That man had been responsible for her brother’s death however directly or indirectly, and she had fucked him the day before the funeral.
Bile rose in her throat.
“Oh God.”
“I don’t like the way he was looking at you, Y/N.” Suho shook his head. “And then he let you drag him out. It wasn’t like him, and I don’t like that at all.” Y/N kept her lips pressed firmly together. There was no need to let Suho know how close to the truth he was on that count.
“If he’s responsible, why was he even here?” She questioned, her voice a hoarse whisper.
Suho’s frown deepened as he led her towards the building exit. “I don’t know. Maybe he was here to gloat. Whatever the reason was, I don’t like it, but I especially don’t like how interested he acted with you. Jung Hoseok doesn’t let anyone drag him around let alone look amused while they do it.”
After being escorted out of her own brother’s funeral, Y/N was ushered back to the relative safety of her friend’s apartment with strict instructions from Suho not to venture out unless it was absolutely necessary. Y/N thought he would have preferred for her to be out of the city entirely, but there were still things only she could do as Kai’s family and the beneficiary of his will.
She wasn’t entirely sure what Suho thought Hoseok would do to her if he caught her out and about unaccompanied, but she figured his imaginings were much different than what the reality would be. She got the impression that Hoseok was far less interested in hurting her than in a repeat of their first meeting. Suho didn’t need to know that though. She was perfectly happy to keep all the sordid details to herself. There was a chance that Suho’s predictions were correct, but she highly doubted it based on the ostentatious bouquet that had been delivered to her door the morning after the funeral with a card signed JHS. The flowers had promptly been deposited in the trash along with the card and the invitation to dinner it contained.
The myriad of marks along her body were finally beginning to fade much to her relief. She was running out of ways to keep them from view as she dealt with the legal aftermath of Kai’s death. Soon they would be entirely gone and with them the reminder of the man who left them, not that he was easy to forget. Oh no, Jung Hoseok was doing his best to be a thorn in her side even though she hadn’t set eyes on him since the funeral.
Bouquets and gifts arrived almost daily bearing with them invitations to dinner or drinks. One had been particularly bold- inviting her directly to a repeat performance of their first encounter. Every note was signed in the same quick decisive hand by JHS, and every single note, bouquet, and gift immediately found its way to the trash. She did have to admire his persistence as unwanted as it was. He was not a man to take no for an answer, but she wasn’t one to be so easily won over- especially not after learning that he was the reason that Kai was dead.
She wasn’t sure how delusional someone had to be to think they could woo someone whose brother they had killed, but she was sure that it had to be an unhealthy amount. One night of passion wasn’t enough to erase his sins and neither were the endless stream of gifts. Her thoughts on the matter didn’t stop the notes and gifts from coming though. Hana thought it was romantic, but Y/N knew better. To her it seemed less romantic and more obsessive, and that was not something she wanted to become entangled in. All she truly wanted was to tie up the loose ends that came with being the sole executor of her brother’s estate and return to the comfort of her own home and the safety of knowing that the city and the majority of its inhabitants were far away from her.
One of the inhabitants that she dearly wanted far away from her was Suho. Logically, she knew that he was trying to be helpful. She knew he was trying to do his part to take care of Kai posthumously through her, but he was annoying the shit out of her. Everywhere she went every appointment with lawyers she attended, Suho was right there with her.
Y/N was fully aware that it was a good thing that he was there. Most of Kai’s assets would be turned back over to Suho and the rest of their cohort. Y/N had no need of them and no want of them. Suho’s signatures were needed for the transfer of property, but she was sick of seeing his face every day. She was sick of him treating her like some sort of delicate flower- treating her like he didn’t know her at all when they’d known each other since they were children.
Kai and Suho had always been thick as thieves- the best of friends since the moment they’d met in the 3rd grade. They’d all been normal then, just kids, but people don’t stay kids forever. Suho and Kai entered middle school, and the tide began to turn. Suho started hanging out with a different crowd, and Kai followed right along after him like he always did the inseparable duo that they were. Kai was never quite the same after that.
While Suho had risen through the ranks of their burgeoning group, finding himself in a position of leadership, Kai had not reached such levels of success. He’d stayed firmly in the middle of the pack, a higher up of the lower ranking members of their gang as much of an oxymoron as that seemed. Y/N had always thought it was stupid that he’d thrown his life away for that, but it wasn’t her life, and she didn’t have much say in what her brother did. She never had. As the little sister she’d always been an afterthought, something that trailed along after Kai and his friends. Sure, he loved her, but it hadn’t been enough to stop him from following right after Suho even when she’d begged him not to.
By the time they were in their late teens, Y/N didn’t feel like she even knew who her brother was anymore, and she couldn’t help but blame Suho for that. She’d never been able to look at either boy the same way again. She still loved her brother, but she couldn’t be around him, not when she was so terribly certain that the path he was on would be his ruin.
Y/N went to college, and Kai, several years her senior, had remained doing his own thing. After college, she’d left the city, moved somewhere where she could try to forget that her brother was a criminal and the deteriorating state of their relationship with each other.
She hadn’t seen Kai in years before Suho had called her with the news, a difference in opinion on his life choices had kept them fairly separate. Kai had made his choices, and she had made hers, but it didn’t make the pain of his loss any less hard to bear. The pitying glances she would catch Suho sending her way didn’t help matters either. She didn’t need pity- least of all his.
She had just escaped Suho and the lawyers to find a moment of quiet and some much needed caffeine when she was met with something far more unpleasant than either Suho or the lawyers.
Y/N froze, tensing at the feel of the hand on her lower back. Even without looking, she had a sickening feeling she knew exactly who that hand belonged to.
“Stalking is a crime.” she sighed, her gaze shifting to the side to see if her suspicion had been correct.
It had.
“You’re a hard woman to get a hold of.” He sighed dramatically in turn. “All of my efforts met with silence. I’m starting to think you don’t like me.”
“I don’t.” she moved forward causing his hand to fall away. “Some people would have gotten the hint.”
Y/N steadfastly ignored the man as she stepped forward to the counter, ready to place her order and get on with her day- hopefully away from Hoseok. “One iced chai latte please.” she smiled at the barista as she started to grab her wallet from her bag only for an elegant hand to appear from the corner of her eye- a black amex extended and at the ready.
“We’ll take an iced Americano as well.”
“He’s not with me.” she snapped, glaring at him from the corner of her eye as she pulled out her own credit card.
Hoseok gently pushed her hard away, insisting the barista take his card instead.
“It’s the least I can do for my favorite girl.”
“We don’t know each other that well.”
Hoseok ignored her comment, choosing instead to place a hand on her back again and gently push her in the direction of where they were meant to wait for their drinks.
“You didn’t get my gifts?” he asked once they were out of earshot of the queue.
“I got them.”
“You didn’t like them?”
“I wasn’t a fan of the sender.” she shrugged, checking the time on her phone.
“That’s not very nice of you, precious.”
Y/N glanced up from her phone to find Hoseok staring at her with a hard expression- jaw tight with displeasure despite the smile on his face.
“How exactly did you expect me to respond?” she asked, crossing her arms under her chest.
“A little gratitude would be nice. Maybe a little adoration.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood up on end. His tone had an arrogant, condescending quality to it that set her teeth on edge. She fully turned to face him, shoulders pulled back and her lips set on a grim line.
“What exactly should I be grateful for? Your tendency to stalk? Your unwanted interest in me? Or the fact that you are the reason my brother is dead?”
Hoseok stared at her, knocked a little off balance by the cold rage in her eyes. He was used to people looking at him with varying levels of anger, but he wasn’t used to the women he showed interest in looking at him like that. He certainly didn’t want her looking at him like that. He definitely wanted her eyes on him but not with that expression. He much preferred the sultry look in her eye from their first meeting. That look had been nowhere to be found lately though.
Hoseok glanced away, tongue in cheek as he tried to reign in his temper- a dry laugh escaping him as he did.
“If you were anyone else, precious…”
“You would what?” she interrupted him. “Kill me?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What would you do?”
Hoseok’s smile was sharp as he regarded her. “I already warned you that I’m not a patient man, precious. I’d be a little more careful if I were you.”
She shrugged, moving to take her drink from the counter. “It’s not like any of this matters anyway.”
That caught Hoseok off guard.
“How so?”
She shrugged again, and Hoseok’s jaw ticked in annoyance.
“Your obsessive stalker tendencies won’t last forever. I’m sure you’ll forget all about me and move on to the next unfortunate woman in no time.”
Hoseok’s posture relaxed slightly, his smile a little easier. “You’re unforgettable, darling.”
Y/N made a face.
“I’m sure distance will help the process along.” She smiled with as much grace as she could muster, which was admittedly not very much as she began to make her way to the door only for Hoseok to grab her arm, stopping her in her tracks.
“What do you mean distance will help?” he demanded.
Y/N grimaced in displeasure, trying to wrench her arm away but Hoseok held fast refusing to let her walk away.
“What do you mean?” he insisted.
She sighed deeply, fully turning to face him. “I don’t live in this city.” She started, keeping her tone even and slow as though explaining something to a child. “I will eventually-sometime soon- go home, and then we can both forget that we ever met each other, and you and Suho can go back to trying to tear each other to pieces without any involvement from me.”
Hoseok’s grip on her arm tightened, his expression taking on a pinched quality. “Forget each other?”
“What do you think happens when people no longer interact with each other?” She snapped, trying to wrench her arm out of his grip to no avail. “Will you let go?” She hissed in irritation when his grip held firm. “I have places to be, and you’re harassing me!”
Hoseok stared at her, stone faced except for the occasional irritated tick in the muscle of his jaw.
“What is wrong with you?” She gasped, finally giving up her struggles to level him with a glare.
“You can’t leave.” He stated, already moving towards the door with her in tow.
“What are you- What are you talking about?” the space between her brows furrowed in confused irritation as he pulled her along after him, not unlike how she’d pulled him out of the funeral. “Of course I can leave!”
“You can’t leave.” he repeated, completely serious.
“I don’t even live in this godforsaken city, and thank fuck for that!”
Hoseok stopped once they were outside the cafe, staring at her and, drinking in the frazzled irritated state she was in as his mind raced. He hadn’t anticipated her leaving. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that she would be leaving the city behind and with it, him.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since the morning he’d woken up alone. He wasn’t one to pine, but he’d made the choice to let the incredibly sexy woman from his club spend the night with him- something he never did- and had awoken to cold sheets and an empty bed. It hadn’t been an unusual circumstance. Hoseok never let his paramours spend the night in his bed, but he had wanted her to stay and had been more than a little upset that she’d slipped away like a thief in the night. It had been his incredible luck to find her later that same day- eyes red-rimmed and dressed in black but still as gorgeous as the night before. He’d already been planning on tracking her down. No one walked out on Jung Hoseok. It had been an act of fate running into her again, and he had no intention of letting her slip away twice. The only hiccup in his mind had been his association with the deceased, but it was a minor thing. They could easily move past it. They had a fate together.
He’d never felt like this about a woman before. She plagued his thoughts, waking and dreaming, and yet she seemed entirely unaffected by him. His attempts to woo her went unanswered, and she gave him about as much regard as one would a bug crawling across the floor. He wasn’t a man used to rejection. He was a man used to everyone around him falling at his feet, but she stood tall against him, regarding him as a nuisance. It was infuriating, maddening, and it made him even more deeply infatuated with the woman she was. It made him crave the breathless submission- the sweet surrender and soft embrace of their first meeting. He wanted her with him- by his side and in his bed. She could regard the rest of the world as dirt beneath her shoe. He’d encourage it, but he wanted her to be soft with him and him only.
“You can’t leave,” he repeated, grip almost bruising.
“I can do whatever I want.” she huffed. “Now let go before someone calls the cops on you.”
“No one is going to call the cops on me, sweetheart.” He smiled sweetly, pulling out his own phone as he did, hand still firmly gripped around her wrist. “Now hush. I have to make a phone call.”
She squeaked in indignation at the command, but Hoseok didn’t pay her any mind.
His mind had been whirring with possibilities from the moment that she had mentioned leaving. There was absolutely no way that he was going to let her leave the city, not when he hadn’t had the chance to properly woo her. All his attempts so far had been met with outright rejections- not ideal for winning hearts- but Hoseok was convinced that was only because she was upset with him over the matter of her brother.Everything had been fine between them before she’d found out, and with time, it would be fine again. He just needed the time to melt the icy exterior she’d formed around herself after finding out.
Hoseok fingers flew across the screen even as he gave orders- a plan being formed and set in motion all at once. If time was what she needed, time was what he would give her, but she wouldn’t be leaving the city.
It wasn’t often that Jung Hoseok had to work for the favor of the women in his life. He simply didn’t have to. Women fawned over him for a multitude of reasons: wealth, looks, skills. There was no need to work adoration when it was so freely given, but this wasn’t to say that Hoseok couldn’t be charming when he wanted to be. Hoseok could be the very picture of charm and grace when he wanted to be. He knew very well how to treat a woman. It was easier to accept baseless adoration than it was to cultivate true devotion. True devotion took effort, and for Y/N, Hoseok was more than willing to make the effort. She didn’t just deserve it, she demanded it.
Hoseok had a constant stream of diversion around him. Work kept him occupied much of the time, but in the leisure time he did have, there was no shortage of amusements and company to enjoy them with. His initial interaction with Y/N L/N had been much the same. She’d simply been the woman to catch his eye that evening. What had caused him to become so fixated on her was something that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Even half drunk she hadn’t accepted anything less than his full attention, and he had been more than willing to give it to her fixated on the way the silky material of her dress rode up on her thighs and the strands of hair that fell out of her careless updo to hang around the column of her neck. She had been the image of carefully constructed reckless abandon. The scent of jasmine had floated around her, clinging to her skin and wafting up from her hair every time she moved. Everything about her had been curated almost as if to lure him in specifically and leave him drunk on her essence.
By the time they reached the car, Hoseok had the basics all ready to go. He had never had to force a woman to be with him, and he didn’t plan on starting now, but there was nothing wrong with giving her a push in the right direction. He could be quite charming when he wanted, and he was more than ready to show her just how charming he could be. She just needed a little push in the right direction to get them started as well as a push into the vehicle.
The short walk to the car had been spent planning on his end and with endless struggle on hers, but nothing she’d done had managed to break the iron grip he had on her wrist. Nothing she did broke his grip though, and no one on the street paid her protests any mind. Hoseok didn’t pay her struggles any mind either.
“After you.” he offered as he held the door to the backseat open.
“Go fuck yourself.” She hissed, kicking out in another attempt to break his hold on her.
A sharp humorless smile spread across his face as she spoke. “But why would I do that, precious, when I have you?”
Y/N made a noise half way between outrage and shock as Hoseok scooped her into his arms and swiftly deposited her within the backseat of the vehicle, climbing in after her to ensure that she didn’t climb out the other side.
Quick instructions were given to the driver as Hoseok climbed into the car, hands already reaching to pull Y/N close to him as she tried to open the opposite door to throw herself out of the vehicle.
“Stop that.” Hoseok hissed as her elbow made contact with his abdomen.
“Let me out!” She struggled against his hold, trying desperately to get out of his hold.
“You’re going to hurt yourself.” he scolded as he managed to get her arms trapped tight to her sides so that she couldn’t repeat the earlier motion of jabbing at him.
“Let me out!” She shrieked, throwing her head back in an attempt to headbutt him as he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms fully around her torso to stop her from causing herself or him any more harm.
“Stop.”
“This is kidnapping!”
“It’s not kidnapping!” He snapped back in offense. “I’m keeping you from making a mistake.”
“Psychopath!”
He huffed out a breath, frustration nearly radiating off of him as he held her down. “You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be, precious.”
“Boss.” The man driving the car reached back, handing a cloth to Hoseok as he did.
“Last chance, precious.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Wrong choice.”
Quick as a viper, Hoseok had the cloth pressed against her nose and mouth. The pressure, unyielding as he held her firmly. The sweet scent of the cloth seeping into her lungs the longer he kept it pressed against her airways even as she struggled against him.
Her struggles grew weaker and weaker against him as he held her there until finally, the world grew fuzzy around the edges, and eventually, she saw nothing anymore.
Y/N opened her eyes to a pounding headache and an uncomfortable burning sensation in her nose and the back of her throat. The combined feeling was so uncomfortable, that she closed her eyes, turned over, and buried her face in the pillow, hoping to smother the discomfort by falling back asleep, but this idea was disrupted by the fact that her pillows definitely didn’t smell like spice and citrus and something woody and earthy. The pillows in Hana’s spare room also didn’t smell like that either.
Her eyes shot back open as she turned back onto her back, eyes staring up at a ceiling she didn’t recognize. Her walls weren’t painted soft beige and neither were Hana’s. In that same thread of thought, the bed was far too comfortable to be the one at Hana’s house. That was little more than a thin mattress rolled out on the floor for an unexpected visitor. This bed was both too large and too comfortable to fit the bill.
Slowly, she sat up, taking in her surroundings despite the continued discomfort in her nose and throat. The curtains were drawn making the room dim except for the threads of moonlight slipping through. The light was too pale and soft to be daylight despite it having been daylight the last time she could remember being conscious. Slowly, as more awareness dawned on her, the last conscious memories she had began to filter back.
The cafe. Hoseok. The car.
The room had to be his. Though the dim lighting didn’t allow her to see enough detail to confirm or deny if it was the same room she and Hoseok had ended their first ill-fated encounter in, there was no other option of whose room this could be. And if this was his room- she had to assume the man himself wouldn’t be far away.
Despite the raw burning sensation that still lingered in her airways, Y/N threw off the comforter and swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was at this point she noticed that the clothes she was in were hardly her own. The sunny yellow pattern of her skirt and the sensible mock-necked shirt of earlier were gone. In their place was a silk nightshirt that fell down to the top of her thighs. With an ever dawning sense of horror, Y/N realized her bra was missing as well, though thankfully the other half of the set was still where it should have been.
She made her way to the window, drawing back the curtains to see that the sun had fully set. Moonlight illuminated the garden below the bedroom window, and the high wall that surrounded the property. The garden was moderately sized, but not so large that she had to assume she’d been taken too far outside the city. It did mean that she wasn’t in the same residence she’d been in before though. That had been a penthouse in the midst of the city. This clearly was not.
Y/N turned away from the window, making her way back towards what she assumed was the door leading out of the bedroom. Much to her relief, the door was unlocked, allowing her to slip into the hall.
The hall itself was lined with windows, soft yellow lighting making it clear that the house had not gone to bed for the evening, and putting Y/N even further on her guard. She wasn’t sure who would be roaming the house and who was aware of her presence there. She also wasn’t sure where Hoseok was, or if he was even in the house itself. Running into him was the worst case scenario. There would be no sneaky exit if she ran into him within the hallways.
Softly, she padded through the hall following it towards the end where a staircase made its way to the first floor of the house. Soft light spilled up from the first floor but no sound. The house had been dead quiet so far except for the barely there sound of her own footfalls against the rug running the length of the hall. Cautiously, Y/N began her descent, doing her best as she did to minimize any noise she might make. The quiet of the house made her feel as though she would be able to hear a pin drop. It didn’t give her much hope that any noise she might accidentally make would go unnoticed.
Just as she reached the last stair, a voice rang out from one of the adjoining rooms.
“You’re awake.”
She froze, unsure on if she should stay put or if she should turn tail and flee in whatever direction the front door was most likely to be in.
The choice was swiftly taken from her as Hoseok emerged into the hall.
He was as dressed down as she had ever seen him- hair loose over his forehead, slipper clad feet, and loungewear that probably cost more than her rent adorning the rest of him.
“How are you feeling precious?” he asked, tone soft and concerned as he took in the sight of her, hand lifting as he came to a stop in front of her to brush against her upper lip.
She pulled away with a hiss as he made contact with the raw skin there.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Chloroform is nasty stuff, but I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Where am I?” she asked, her voice coming out in a croak through the raw skin of her throat.
“You’re home, precious.”
She took a stumbling step back, heel catching on the last stair of the staircase behind her. Hoseok reached out quick as a viper, snaking an arm around her waist and steadying her before she could finish her fall.
“Careful, darling.” He chided, pulling her closer and away from the stairs as he did. “Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Y/N shoved his hands away, stepping to the side to avoid another stumble into the stairs. Hoseok allowed her the distance, watching her with a soft teasing smile as her eyes darted around the space, searching for possible exits.
“I think you should sit down.” he hummed, head tilted to the side. “You look like you need it.”
She recoiled, snatching both of her arms back in an attempt to avoid him. “Don’t touch me.”
A long suffering sigh released itself. “You’re overreacting, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“That’s such a vulgar term for it.” he waved his hand dismissively. “It makes it sound so violent. I stopped you from making a decision that was going to ruin what we have.”
“We don’t have anything! We slept together once! When I was drunk!” She shouted, chest heaving as her breathing grew shallower and faster. “And on top of that you killed my brother! What could we possibly have together?”
His eyes remained fixated on her, expression soft and adoring as though her tirade meant nothing to him. Everything was right in his world, while she felt several seconds away from total collapse.
“And yet, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” He hummed, stepping forward even as she continued to scramble back. He continued to press forward, pushing her further and further back as he advanced until there was nowhere left to retreat.
Her back hit the wall, and Hoseok was quick to follow, caging her in with hands on either side of her head, leaning in so their faces were only centimeters apart. His eyes closed in contentment as he took in a deep breath, taking in the scent of her hair as he did.
“Ever since that night, you’ve been haunting my thoughts.” He murmured, lips brushing against her hair. With a chuckle he continued. “No one has ever walked out on me before.”
She stayed frozen, barely breathing as he continued.
“I never let anyone stay the night, but you, you were special. I wanted you to stay- wanted one more night, maybe more, and then I woke up, and you were gone.” he sighed, hand creeping around to cradle the nape of her neck, tilting her head so she was forced to meet his gaze. “That hurt my feelings, precious. I thought I was going to have to scour the city to find you again because no one walks out on Jung Hoseok, but there you were at the funeral. It was fate.”
“It was an accident.” Her voice trembled as she spoke, the sound barely even a whisper.
“It was fate.” he insisted, grip tightening just a fraction where his hand held her head in place.
“You killed my brother.”
He cooed, both hands moving to cradle her face. “No, precious. I didn’t kill him. He was a casualty. I didn’t order his death.”
“You killed-”
“You know the dangers his lifestyle posed just as well as I do.” Hoseok interrupted her, gaze boring into hers. “He knew the risks too. His death? That night? The funeral? It was all fate. It brought you to me.”
She trembled under his touch as the full weight of his delusion settled on her.
“You… you can’t just kidnap people and call it fate.” she denied, still frozen under his soft touch and adoring gaze.
He smiled softly, devastatingly, as he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “Of course I can.” he murmured, voice lowering to match her own hushed trembling tone. “What else would you call it?”
She didn’ t have an answer for that. Their initial meeting and the following run-in had been a horrible coincidence that even she had to admit seemed almost like the plotline of a drama. His unwavering belief it was fate, wasn’t wholly crazy. His following actions were, but the initial belief that their meeting was fate wasn’t so far out there. The problem was, he couldn’t take no for an answer.
She didn’t even notice she’d started crying until Hoseok wiped the tears from her cheeks, cooing softly to her. “Don’t cry, precious. I’m going to take such good care of you. You’ll never want for anything. You’ll never even have to lift a finger if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want it.”
He ignored her.
“I’ll spend every day worshipping you.”
“I just want to go home.”
“This is home, precious.” He murmured, pressing a kiss between her brows,lingering close so that his lips continued to brush against her skin as he spoke. “You just have to accept that.”
“No.” she whispered.
“Darling….”
“No!” she screamed, pushing him back with more force than either of them expected and dashing away, running blindly in the hopes of getting anywhere that wasn’t by him.
Her feet skidded against the floor as she paused, eyes darting wildly as she tried to puzzle out which direction to go.
“Y/N!” Hoseok barked from behind her, following at a more leisurely pace despite the clipped tone of his voice.
The sound of him calling for her spurred her into motion once more. She dashed away, running in what she hoped was the direction of the front door, or any door that could keep her away from him. Hoseok followed behind, not deigning to run after her.
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Y/N.” he called, irritation bleeding into his previously dulcet tones. “Getting yourself all worked up and for what?”
She ignored him, almost sobbing in relief as she reached the front door, the handle turning easily under her touch. She didn’t wait to see what Hoseok would do. Unsteadily, she practically threw herself out of the entrance and into the driveway.
Her mad dash was cut short as she ran almost straight into what had to be a security guard, his concerned eyes looking down at her as his hands steadied her.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” he asked, taking in the night shirt and her bare feet as he cataloged her appearance.
“She’s fine.” Hoseok called out, voice still clipped as he sauntered over.
“Let me go.” She begged, hands clutching at the guards arms as she tried to push out of his hold as well meaning as it was. “You have to let me go.”
“Ma’am?”
“She’s fine.” Hoseok repeated, closing the distance and slipping an arm around her waist, easily tugging her away from the guard. “Just a little trouble adjusting. Isn’t that right, darling?” He quirked a brow, as though daring her to disagree in front of his men.
“Let go!” She hissed, pushing against him. “I don’t want to be here!”
Hoseok chuckled, though the sound lacked the fondness of earlier. “See?” he shrugged, reaching down to adjust his hold and lift her into a bridal carry. “Just a little trouble adjusting.”
“Let me go!” She shrieked, writhing in his hold. “You’re crazy!”
“Enough.”
The word wasn’t yelled. He didn’t even raise his voice. The word was spoken softly but with a finality and authority that was devastating. It calm and quiet and yet deadly.
“I won’t let you hurt yourself, precious.” he was stern as he carried her back into the house, his touch burning against the bare skin of her legs. “You can cry and rage as much as you want, but you will not put yourself in harm’s way,”
“I hate you.” She hissed.
“That’s fine too.” He shrugged. “It’ll fade with time.”
Neither of them spoke again until he carried her into the living room, setting her gently down on the sofa.
“I think we should go over some ground rules, precious.”
“Fuck you.”
He grinned, sharp and rogueish. “You will.” The sound she made in response was strangled and outraged. “But for now, ground rules.”
She stared at him, seething as he spoke.
“I already promised you wouldn’t want for anything, and I meant it. You’ll be well taken care of. Anything you want, you’ll have.”
“Except freedom.”
“You’re not a prisoner, precious.” He disagreed, sinking into the opposite end of the sofa as she curled up into the corner. “You’ll be able to go out, shop, do what you’d like.”
“But I can’t leave you.”
“If you want to go out, you’ll either have me or security with you. I have a lot of enemies, precious, but I won’t let them touch you. The escort is for your safety.”
“And to make sure I don’t leave.”
His answering grin was sharp and predatory. “If you leave me, precious, I’ll enjoy hunting you down.” She stayed quiet, not having a response for the unnerving glint in his eye. It was as if the idea of tracking her down excited him. “If you want to go out, let me or the guards know. A driver will be called for you.”
“I know how to drive.” she snapped.
“A driver will be called,” he repeated firmly. “You’ll have your own credit card attached to my account.”
“So you can monitor my purchases.”
“So I can provide for you.”
“But also so you can monitor my purchases.” He didn’t deny it. “What about my phone? My wallet? My apartment? My job?”
“It’s already been taken care of. I’ll give you back your phone once I can trust you with it. Your accounts have been closed, and the funds have already been placed into a joint account that your new credit card is attached to.”
“You can’t just do that.” She whispered, horrified by how quickly he’d erased her entire life- everything gone in the span of an afternoon.”You can’t just take everything.”
“We take care of our women in this family.” Hoseok shrugged, unaffected by her horror. “Your brother should have understood that, but he left you to fend for yourself. That won’t happen again- not while you’re with me.”
“And what if you get bored of me? What happens then?” She challenged, chin raised definitely despite the fact her knees were folded to her chest as she curled into the corner of the sofa.
His smile was slow and devastating, adoring in a way that made her want to vomit. He didn’t know her nearly well enough to look at her like that.
“I won’t get tired of you, but we’ll call it a trial period if it makes you feel better.” he shrugged. “You won’t do anything to put yourself in harm’s way, and I’ll do my best to woo you.”
“Woo me?” she scoffed, side-eyeing him as she debated his sanity for what felt like the millionth time that evening.
“Woo you” He agreed. “Like I was trying to do, but you very stubbornly ignored all of my attempts.” He shot her an accusatory glance.
“I didn’t want to see you.” Her scowl was met by an indulgent smile. “I want my own room.” She demanded, keeping the stubborn tilt of her chin as she stared at him down. He pouted, honest to god pouted, as she glared at him. “My own room. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”
“Fine,” he conceded. “You’ll have your own room. For now.”
“What happens if I’m not won over by your ‘wooing’? Do I get to go home?”
He smiled indulgently. “That won’t be necessary.”
“You have a lot of confidence for someone who had to kidnap a woman to get a date.”
He shrugged, leisurely, spreading his arms across the back of the sofa. “I wouldn’t have needed to resort to such tactics if you hadn’t been ignoring me.”
“What happens if I try to leave you?” she asked, as he relaxed head reclined onto the back of the sofa and eyes half-lidded.
“I already told you, precious.” he smiled lazily. “I’ll hunt you down and bring you home.”
“So I’m supposed to sit around all day and wait for you to want to play with me? Like a doll?”
“Of course not.” he waved a hand dismissively. “I already told you, you’ll be free to do whatever you want within reason.”
“Within reason?”
“Nothing that would put yourself in danger. Nothing that threatens the family. Things like that.” His hand made lazy circles in the air as he spoke, uninterested in her line of questioning as he rattled off the list of things that qualified as unreasonable.
“And what does ‘wooing’ me look like?”
That caught his attention. He sat up a little straighter, gaze once more fixed on her. “Oh, precious. I’m going to treat you like a princess.” He purred. “Dinners, dates, flowers, jewelry. Anything you want, it’s yours.”
“And if I don’t want it?”
“You’ll still be treated like the stubborn little princess you are.” She sat up a little straighter at that, the suggestive tone of his voice making her uneasy. “You might have forgotten, precious, but I remember every detail of that night together and how much you enjoy being treated like a princess.”
“Shut up.” she hissed, hackles raised at the implication.
“And of course we’ll have meals together here at home. My schedule varies, so it’ll change from day to day, but we’ll have at least one meal together. It’s good for couples.”
“We’re not a couple. You kidnapped me like a psychotic bastard.”
“Semantics.” She opened her mouth to argue, but Hoseok sat up fully, sharp eyes fixed on her. “We are a couple, precious, and as my woman, your only job is to pamper yourself. We take care of our women, and in return, we expect loyalty. I expect loyalty.”
“And what if I can’t give you that?”
The dead, shark-like quality came back to his eyes as soon as she finished speaking. His gaze was cold and calculating as though he was assessing an asset and not looking at a living breathing person. She certainly felt more like an asset than a person under that gaze.
“I don’t think you’d like the consequences of that very much, precious.” He started, speaking slowly so that every word washed over her with added weight. “I’m sure you knew some things about your brother’s business, and I’m sure you also know what disloyalty gets you.”
“What happened to your promises not to harm me?” she challenged, and his answering smile made her blood run cold.
“There are ways to punish disloyalty without causing you physical harm, precious.”
The words were flat, spoken without emotion as though the prospect of enacting those consequences didn’t even faze him. She doubted that it did. Kidnapping hadn’t.
He leaned closer, body shifting on the sofa to close some of the distance between them. “I said I wouldn’t hurt you, and I meant that. I still wouldn’t go testing boundaries if I were you though.” He leaned back again, his eyes raking over her form as he did. “Or do. Maybe you’d find the consequences exciting.”
“You’re disgusting.”
He shrugged, continuously unbothered by her ire.
“I’m a man who knows what he wants. Is it so wrong that I want you?”
“Yes.”
He sighed, rolling his neck and rising from the sofa. “You’ll come around eventually, precious, but for now it’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”
“My own bed.” She asserted firmly. “Not yours.”
“Your own bed.” He agreed begrudgingly, but it was an agreement none-the-less.
True to his word, Y/N didn’t want for anything. Everything she could possibly want was provided for her within the walls of the house. Her room was beautiful and fully stocked with everything she might ever think to need and them some. The contents of the closet alone were worth more than her car- let alone the collection of jewelry Hoseok had taken to giving her as a sign of his devotion.
When he’d said he meant to woo her, he had meant it. He treated her like a princess- a princess who was tucked behind the walls of a tower, but a princess none-the-less. Every action on his part was meant to convey the devotion he supposedly had towards her, and every day the adoring gleam in his eye seemed to get worse. No matter how prickly she was to him, he would smile and take it, throwing back barbs of his own as though it was a fun little game that they played and not an expression of her dislike of him.
Her first full day in the house had been interesting. There was minimal staff, and it was clear they had been given orders not to interact with her more than was necessary. She supposed Hoseok wanted her to rely on him more than anything, but it wasn’t the order itself that she had found so strange. Instead, it had been the staff’s reaction, not to her presence, but to Hoseok’s attitude towards her. The first time they’d shared a meal had been an accident. She’d ventured down the stairs to snoop and had promptly been greeted by a woman she assumed was Hoseok’s chef who had ushered her to the dining table for breakfast. Hoseok himself followed not too long after, greeting her with a tired kiss on the cheek despite her discomfort before taking his seat. The other woman had frozen at the action. It had been a momentary reaction, she’d quickly slipped a mask of professional grace into place before Hoseok could notice her staring, but Y/N had noticed.
While staff in the house was limited, everyone she had encountered had the same momentary shock whenever they saw Hoseok interact with her. He treated her softly, more so than even she anticipated. He treated her as though she were his beloved and cherished girlfriend, instead of a woman he had slept with once, stalked, and kidnapped off the street. It was irritating how little awareness he seemed to have that he had kept her hostage for three months. It was irritating how pleased he seemed by how well she’d integrated into the day to day life of his household. And she had integrated. There was nothing else to do.
Hoseok hadn’t been lying when he said he wouldn’t harm her, not physically at least, but her more reckless attempts at leaving had left her isolated and with nothing to fill the hours. He’d taken away simple privileges like going outside. He’d taken away access to the TV. He’d taken away her books. Deprivation and boredom had kept her in check. The more sweetly she cooperated, the more quickly Hoseok returned her privileges to her, but true to his word, he never physically harmed her.
His interest seemed to lie more in forcing her cooperation in his delusion. He had no interest in causing her distress, but he took great interest in her comfort and care. It was baffling to her how he could kidnap her and keep her against her will and yet treat her as the most precious item in his house. At times it seemed like he knew every detail about her, and he used that information to his full advantage. Despite lacking freedom and agency, he made sure her prison was designed to keep her content, and the longer she stayed trapped with him, the deeper he seemed to fall into the belief that they were fated for each other.
“Precious.” Hoseok murmured, coming up behind the chair she was lounging in with her book, leaning down to kiss her cheek, a habit he’d gotten into that she found more than a little irritating.
“Stop that.”
“How was your day?” He asked, completely ignoring her ire as he moved to face her.
“Does it actually matter?”
Y/N flipped to the next page of her book, steadfastly refusing to look at him knowing full well how sulky he got when she refused to play along and give him the attention he wanted.
“Of course it does. I always want to know how your day was, precious.”
“Why?” She asked, quirking a brow even though she still refused to look at him. ‘It’s not like my days have that much variation. Besides, if I so much as chip a nail someone is gonna report it back to you.”
An indulgent smile spread across his face. “I still want to hear it from you.”
She finally raised her head, looking him in the eye as he gazed at her, smile still playing across his lips. “I sat in this house. I read my book. I was told that trying to scale the walls was not approved behavior. Happy now?” she huffed, turning her attention back to her book without waiting for a response.
“I’m glad they told you. You could have hurt yourself.” He cooed, gently taking the book from her so that he could gather her hands into his- turning them over so that he could examine them for any injuries. “Who knows, you might have actually broken a nail if they hadn’t stopped you. Brick walls aren’t the most forgiving, darling.”
“And you know this from personal experience?”
He laughed softly, his eyes lighting up with fondness as he knelt in front of her. “I have my sources.” Gently, Hoseok lifted her hands, placing a light kiss against the scratched skin of her fingertips. “I wish you’d stop doing things that will get you hurt.” He sighed, taking note of each of the reddened tips of her fingers, and the scratches on her palms from where she had tried to see if the garden walls were scaleable. “I don’t like seeing you hurt, precious.”
“There’s a very simple solution you know.” He hummed, encouraging her to continue as he continued to take stock of the marks on her hands minimal as they were. “You could let me go.”
The soft smile that had played across his lips widened, spreading across his face until it was a full blown grin and a full-bellied laugh released itself.
“That’s funny, precious.” He breathed through the last few giggles. “Now what would you like to do for dinner, hmmm?” he asked, gazing at her
“Do I have to have dinner with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t care.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her palm before letting her hands fall back to her lap. “Go get dressed, precious. I’m going to take you out tonight.”
“Out to where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t want any surprises from you.”
“Too bad. Your dress is already laid out for you.” he hummed, rising to his full height. “Your shoes too.”
She scoffed, leaning to pick up her book but making no other move to get up. “Not interested.”
Hoseok plucked the book from her hands, tossing it aside much to her annoyance as her eyes flashed up to meet his.
“Oops.” Hoseok shrugged, keeping his tone pleasant and calm despite the dead look in his eyes. “I made it sound like a request, but I wasn’t asking, precious. Your dress and shoes are all laid out. Go get dressed. We’re going out.”
“How thoughtful. You’ve got it all figured out don’t you.” She hissed, remaining firmly in her chair, arms crossed under her bust. “But I don’t want to go on a date with you.”
“Consider it your consequence for trying to scale the walls.” He shrugged, reaching down to wrap a long fingered hand around her arm. “Up.” He commanded, pulling her to her feet as he did.
Her eyes narrowed, but she complied, allowing him to half pull her up as she unfolded herself from her armchair.
She’d gotten good at reading his mood over her time locked away in his house, and she knew him well enough at this point to know that she’d pushed his buttons enough for the moment. He never hurt her, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be just as petty as she could. He had his ways of making her pay for pushing his buttons even if they didn’t involve causing her any physical harm. Each time she chose to push him had become a careful dance. She could irritate him, rile him up, and he would play along, meeting her challenges with an almost gleeful spirit, but she could only press her luck so far. As soon as Hoseok showed signs of no longer being willing to play along, she would retreat, biding her time and her manners as best she could.
Hoseok guided her towards the stairs with a hand pressed to the small of her back. Flinching away from his touch now would do her no good even if she despised the heat of it seeping through her clothing and into her spine. For now, she needed to play along, or at the very least acquiesce to his whims until that cold dead look left his eyes again.
Hoseok walked her all the way to her bedroom, opening the door like a gentleman despite her knowing well that he was not. She thought he would leave her in peace to dress, but as soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Hoseok sauntered over to her bed, lowering himself to take a seat beside the dress laid carefully out upon the covers.
“Pretty isn’t it?” He asked, running a finger across the silky fabric of the dress.
She stood still, watching him warily to see what his next move would be. He had made his desire for her clear, but he hadn’t pressed her boundaries more than she allowed since he had kidnapped her. She didn’t think that he was going to now, but she would rather be safe than sorry.
Hoseok lifted his gaze, expression softening as he took in the stiff set of her shoulders and the careful eye she regarded him with. “Don’t look so scared, precious.” He chuckled, gracefully standing and making his way to her.
His hands found her shoulders, caressing her arms as they slid down to grasp her own squeezing gently. “Go get dressed, while I pick out your jewelry.”
The words were spoken softly, but she saw it for what it was- a command.
Without a word, she stalked to the bed, sweeping the silky material up and making her way to the ensuite to change away from his watchful eyes.
As much as she disliked him, she had to admit that the wardrobe that he provided for her was beautiful. Each piece was as gorgeous as it was luxurious. This dress was no different. The fabric was soft and silken and a gorgeous shade of muted green. Black lace decorated the bust trailing into the small of her waist. It was beautiful, but so were all the other pieces of the wardrobe that Hoseok had provided for her. Unfortunately for her captor, she was not so easily moved by pretty things.
It took no time to slip into the slinky dress. Wrestling her hair into an appropriate updo took more time. Eventually, she was able to arrange it into a semblance of a french twist. It was a bit messy, with pieces spilling out to frame her face, but it was neat enough not to bother her in the long run. It would hold through the evening.
Next she set to work on her make-up. Hoseok had supplied her with all kinds of high end brands to use at her own discretion. Most days she chose not to use it at all. She rarely left the confines of the house as it left a bitter taste in her mouth to know that each time she stepped out with her loyal dog of a guard, her movements were reported back to Hoseok. It left an even worse taste to know that he could veto any outing she wished to take.
While he had professed freedom, each time she wished to step out of the house, it was swiftly reported back to him and if he did not approve of the outing she simply wasn’t allowed to go. It was demeaning-making her feel more like a child than she had when she was an actual teenager.
Since she rarely went anywhere since her kidnapping, she didn’t feel the need to doll herself up every day. Instead, she had taken to existing in the variety of loungewear that had been made available to her. Hoseok,though she loathed to admit it, had been thoughtful and thorough in his care of her. Once he noticed her preference for comfortable clothing, more and more of it had appeared in her closet, and he never complained about her lack of effort in her appearance. Instead, when he wanted her dolled up he did exactly as he had done tonight. He would lay out whatever it was he wanted her to wear, ensuring each detail of her appearance matched whatever activity he had in mind and was up to his standards.
Taking a fortifying breath after giving herself a last look over, she stepped back out of the bathroom, bare feet padding softly against the carpet. Hoseok was waiting for her, sitting on her bed as though he belonged there.
His eyes drifted to her as she made her way forward. A smile spread across his lips, eyes half-lidded as he took in the sight of her in the dress he’d chosen.
“You look beautiful, precious.” he purred, standing and moving to meet her halfway.
“I need you to zip me up.” she admitted, cheeks heating in embarrassment as she did. She would have done it herself- would have preferred to- but she couldn’t quite get a grasp on the delicate zipper located at the back of the dress.
“Of course.” Hoseok grinned as she turned to give him access to her back.
She did her best to suppress a shudder as his fingers brushed against the bare skin of her back as he slowly did up her zipper fixing her into the dress.
“Come. I have your jewelry all picked out.”
Silently, she trailed behind him as he led her into the walk-in closet and sat her down at the vanity there. The jewelry he’d chosen was laid out in a glass jewelry dish on the vanity. There was a variety of rings and bracelets laid out there along with a set of diamond earrings- large stones in an emerald cut that attached to a smaller round stone and a smaller emerald cut stone where the peg was placed.
“Beautiful.” He murmured, leaning down to place a kiss to her head as she began to fix the earrings into place.
“Stop that.” she huffed annoyed as she batted him away. “You’ll ruin my hair.”
He huffed a little himself. “If I ruin it, I’ll fix it for you.” He shrugged, reaching down to the jewelry tray to pick up one of the bracelets he’d chosen.
He picked up her left hand and began fixing the stack of bracelets into place.
“I can do that myself.” she snapped, trying to snatch back her hand, but Hoseok held her firmly in place paying no mind to her protests.
“Let me do it.” he snapped back,lithe fingers easily fixing the next bracelet into place.
He repeated the process until all four bracelets were fastened before he set to work on the rings.
“I think I know how to put on a ring.” she murmured as Hoseok lifted her hand again, slipping one of them into place.
“Just let me.” He huffed, annoyance bleeding through his tone at her continued resistance. “I have a vision.”
“Of course you do.”
She huffed again but didn’t protest further as he arranged the rings on her hands as he pleased until he was satisfied with her appearance.
After the last ring was in place, Hoseok released her hands allowing her to place them in her lap.
“Beautiful.” He murmured again, leaning down to place another kiss to the crown of her head.
“Would you stop that?” A quick hand darted up to bat him away.
Just as quickly, Hoseok's hands clasped around her wrist, bringing them down to her waist and keeping them pinned there as he leaned down to nuzzle into the crook of her neck.
“Would you prefer I kiss you here?” His tone was low and silken, seductive as he placed a kiss to the juncture of her jaw and throat. “You liked when I kissed you here before. Made such pretty noises for me.” She could feel him smirking against her skin as he spoke.
“Get off me.”
He placed another kiss to her throat but retreated just as she’d requested.
“I’ll go get ready. Wear the heels by the door.” he grinned, a bright sunny expression that she sourly thought shouldn’t be on the face of someone quite so vile.
She watched as he practically danced out of the room, deeply pleased with himself and his planning. He’d promised her dates, and as of yet, there had been very few occasions when Hoseok had taken her out of the house. Each of those rare times had been an outing to somewhere private, somewhere where she would be secluded from people who weren’t him or being paid by him.
She supposed she couldn’t blame him for that. If she had kidnapped someone she probably wouldn’t want them out in public too often either- too much risk of escape or discovery of the crime. Today he was oddly insistent about the whole affair. Normally if he wanted them to have dinner, it was within the confines of his home even if the dinner itself was fancier. There had been one or two nights when he’d dolled her up only for the occasion to be a candlelit dinner in the garden. She didn’t think that that was the case today though. He’d said he was taking her out, and she really did think he meant out. He’d been too meticulous in her presentation for her to think he meant anything else.
She noted sourly that there was no handbag allotted to her for the evening as she slipped on the pair of heels laid aside for her. There wasn’t any need for a handbag when there was nothing for her to carry. Hoseok had yet to return her phone to her. There was no wallet to place into a handbag either or anything for a wallet to even hold. She had access to a credit card as he’d promised her on that first night. It simply wasn’t within her keeping though. Either Hoseok paid for whatever she wanted himself or the credit card was left in the custody of her guard and pulled out for any purchases she may want to make.
She had to admit however begrudgingly that that was rather clever of him. It ensured that she didn’t have direct access to any funds. Even if she did manage to slip away from him and the guards, she would have no phone and no money to aid in her escape making it all that much harder. It was smart- irritating but smart.
If she’d had internet access and free use of a credit card she probably would have booked her escape to somewhere far far away and made a much more concentrated effort on slipping her guards. As it stood though she didn’t have access to either of those things. She supposed that her passport was also within Hoseok’s keeping. He’d been quite proud of himself for wrapping up her life previous to him in a neat little bow and tucking it away as though it no longer existed. She had to assume he had all of her important documents. They weren’t the type of thing you left behind if you were looking to keep someone by your side in the long term.
She tried not to think about that though. Thinking about just how thoroughly and cheerfully Hoseok had trapped her was depressing. Depression wasn’t something she could let herself sink into if she had any chance in hell of finding a way to get away from him. Her chances were slim enough as it was without giving into hopelessness.
“Are you ready, precious?” Hoseok asked, appearing in the doorway of her bedroom and startling her out of her thoughts.
She blinked slowly, trying to slow the racing of her heart as she settled after nearly jumping out of her skin. It didn’t help that Hoseok was looking at her with an infuriatingly amused smile as though he found the entire thing cute.
Y/N glared at him, looking him over from where he stood waiting for her. She was even more irritated to discover that he looked good- infuriatingly good. She wasn’t blind. She knew that Hoseok was an attractive man. It had been half the reason for this entire mess in the first place. If he hadn’t been handsome and charming and available they never would have had that disastrous one night stand in the first place, and he used that handsome face and charm as a weapon to try to breach her walls and ingratiate himself into her affection.
Tonight he looked especially handsome. His hair was done in dark waves and swept partially away from his forehead. The black pants clung deliciously to his long legs, and his button black button down was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the first few inches of his chest. If she didn’t know who he was, she probably would have blushed at the devastating smile he was shooting her way, but unfortunately she did know who he was, and all those good looks went to waste on account of the rotten personality within.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Y/N stomped past him, muttering as she went with him happily trailing behind her as she swept through the halls and down the staircase.
“Y/N precious!” he called as she stomped her way into the foyer calling her to a stop and allowing him to catch up to her, slipping his hand into hers and intertwining their fingers. “There.” he sighed in contentment. “Let’s go, precious.”
Y/N did her best to remain neutral as Hoseok pulled her out of the house and to the waiting car. On the few occasions she’d left the residence, she’d been driven in a nondescript black SUV with windows so tinted she could barely see out of it. This care was not that. It was sleek and black with two doors on either side. She didn’t have a good enough view to see what make and model the vehicle was, but she assumed it was expensive. It was a feeling that was confirmed as she slipped into the leather interior as Hoseok held the door for her.
“Where are we going?” Y/N asked, as he pulled out from the gates of the residence.
“I have someone I want you to meet.” There was something brewing in the way he said it, something vibrating just beneath the surface that she couldn’t quite place.
“Friend of yours?”
“More like a brother.”
She couldn’t stop the scoff that slipped past her lips. “Probably equally as horrible as you.”
“You love me, precious.” He shot her a sultry glance out of the corner of his eye. “I know you do.”
“Keep dreaming.”
The laugh that burst from him was full-bellied and joyous. Clearly his earlier ire had passed, and he was once again delighted by whatever barbs she chose to send his way.
“Precious, I dream of you every night.”
“Disgusting.”
The rest of the ride was spent in silence, Hoseok’s hand eventually drifting to rest heavy on her thigh as he drove. She’d attempted to remove it. Twice. Each time she brushed it off, he simply replaced it, his grip growing more firm each time she tried to remove him. After the third failed attempt, she’d simply chosen to accept it rather than picking a fight. She’d picked plenty of those recently and there was only so far she could push him before he snapped. She was waspish but not stupid.
The restaurant was beautiful, softly lit and quiet. Hoseok helped her from the car, and held the door open for her as they entered the restaurant like the gentleman he pretended to be, barely even glancing at the valet as he passed off his keys. All his attention was focused on her. It was a disconcerting habit of his.
Hoseok didn’t pay much attention to the hostess, confidently striding through the restaurant with a hand firmly placed against the small of her back.
“Don’t you need to be seated?”
“Private room, precious.” He murmured, leaning down with a conspiratorial grin.
She snorted. “Why? Scared I’ll start screaming in the middle of the room?”
“Go ahead, precious. No one will stop you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything else. She didn’t doubt that she could scream her head off and no one would bat an eye, not while she was with him. If they did, they wouldn’t do anything. No one ever seemed to do anything against him. She’d raged those first few days. She’d kicked and screamed and tried to get the staff to look her in the eye, to help her, but none of it mattered. She’d given up on that after the first few weeks. No one would go against him.
“You like that don’t you?”
“Like what, darling?” he asked, as they approached the door of the private room.
“The power. Knowing that you can do anything you want, and no one is going to stop you.”
Hoseok grinned again- a hint of the devil in his eye. “It’s addicting.”
He opened the door, ushering her in before him. Already seated at the table was a man she’d never seen before- unsurprising as she didn’t really know much about Hoseok or his life outside of the walls of his home. The man stood, politely as they entered. His dark hair was long, swept away from his face. She admitted it was a handsome face, luminous with a pair of sharp dark eyes that seemed to cut through her in a second.
“Yoongi!” Hoseok cheered as he closed the door behind him. “Glad you could make it.”
“You called me here.” the other man replied dryly, retaking his seat as Y/N took her own. “I brought what you asked for. Is this her?”
“This is my precious, my Y/N.” Hoseok beamed, staring at her adoringly. “How’s Rosie? Is she good?” Hoseok rattled off questions, taking a sip of the water that had already been waiting for them on the table.
“Rose is fine.” the man nodded. “Recovering.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. We were all worried about her.”
Y/N looked between them, trying to keep up when she didn’t really know either man very well. “Who is Rosie?”
“My wife.” Yoongi replied, leaning back into his chair.
“She had a bit of a scare recently. Glad to know she’s doing better.” Hoseok nodded, draping an arm over the back of his chair lackadaisically. “We all love Rosie. You should have seen their wedding, precious. Yoongi here couldn’t stop smiling the whole day.”
“How long have you been married?” Y/N asked politely, grabbing her own water glass to take a sip.
“Two years.”
“Congratulations.” she murmured.
“How do you want to do this, Hob-ah.” Yoongi sighed, pulling out a folder she could only assume had whatever Hoseok had asked him to bring.
“Dinner first?” Hoseok suggested, fingers lazily gesturing through the air.
Yoongi shook his head, opening the folder. “Gotta get home to Rose.”
Hoseok nodded understandingly. “Signatures first then and dinner another day.”
“Signatures on what?”
Both men ignored her question as Yoongi started to pull out the papers carefully laid within the folder. “It’s pretty standard. The stipulations you asked for are all there as well.”
“Yoongi here is the family lawyer.” Hoseok explained, reaching to take the papers that had been handed to him, glancing over them casually.
Y/N peeked over trying to see just what kind of papers Hoseok had asked the other man to bring. He didn’t bring business around her usually.
The layout of the table itself put a stop to her snooping. The round table put them just far enough apart and the print was just small enough that it made it hard for her to catch a glance without leaning over into Hoseok’s lap, a position she definitely did not want to be in.
“It’s all in order. You both just need to sign.” Yoongi explained as Hoseok nodded along.
“Both?” Y/N asked, perking up as a knot formed in her stomach.
There wasn’t much that Hoseok would need her signature for. He’d dismantled her entire life without so much as a word to her. Why would he need her signature now?
Hoseok signed and initialed without so much as a second thought, passing the papers and the pen over to her with a bright smile.
“Sign here, precious.”
Y/N picked up the papers, reading through to see just what she would be signing before her eyes snapped up to Hoseok in shock.
“This is a marriage contract.” She whispered, staring at Hoseok with wide eyes. “Why is this a marriage contract?”
Hoseok reached across the table to grab her hand, smiling softly as he did. “It gives you security, precious. It ensures that you are protected legally.”
“You mean legally tied to you.”
Hoseok didn’t flinch at the accusation in her tone, continuing to smile at her adoringly. “You knew this was the plan, precious. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”
“I don’t want to marry you!”
“Sign the papers, precious.”
“No.” She shook her head, moving as though to stand but Hoseok’s grip tightened keeping her in place.
“Don’t be stubborn, precious.” He murmured, dark eyes boring into hers as Yoongi watched them both carefully from across the table.
“Excellent proposal, Hob-ah. Very romantic.” Yoongi scoffed, crossing his arms as he waited to see how the situation would unfold.
Hoseok shot the other man a withering glare before turning his attention back to the woman before him.
“Precious.” He purred, doing his best to keep an even tone so as not to spook her even further. The color had drained from her face leaving her wan and ashen. “You know I love you. We’re fated. This just makes it official.”
“I don’t- I don’t want that.”
“Sign the papers, precious.”
“No.”
The word left her as a whisper, but even spoken softly it seemed to echo through the room.
“It’s not a choice, precious. You’re mine whether you sign the papers or not. You will be Mrs. Jung whether you sign or not. Make it easy, precious. Sign the papers.”
She shook her head, earrings swinging wildly as she did. “You can’t force me…”
“It’s not force.” Yoongi interrupted. “Whether you sign the papers or not doesn’t really matter. There are ways of getting your signature on them without you signing. It’s been done before.”
“That’s illegal.”
Yoongi shot her a flat look. “Which is why you should sign now. Don’t make extra work for everyone.”
“You can’t just…”
“I can.” Hoseok affirmed, a little frown marring his features. “Don’t I treat you well? Aren’t you happy?”
“You kidnapped me. You’ve held me hostage in that house.”
The frown disappeared, a slow calculating smile taking its place and lighting up his face. “And think of how much more freedom you’d have with my ring on your finger. We’d be so happy, precious.”
“I don’t want to marry you.”
“Of course you do or you will. You just haven’t come around to the idea yet. Always so stubborn.” He tutted with a fond smile.
She stared in horror at the papers laid out before her. From what the men were telling her, it mattered very little whether she actually agreed to sign them or not. Her signature would make its way onto those papers with or without her say so. This was a courtesy on their part. Hoseok could have had the papers forged and filed without her ever seeing them or knowing he’d done it, but he was in his own twisted way giving her a choice. She also now knew why her ring finger had been left suspiciously empty as Hoseok had bedecked her in jewelry. He had been planning to fill the gap in later.
“This is cruel.” She whispered, still making no move to pick up the pen laid in front of her.
“This is fate.” She stared at him, trying to figure out how he could say it with such surety because it was clear that he whole heartedly believed that, and he was certain that with enough time and coercion she would too. “Sign the papers, precious. Make the right choice.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” She demanded.
The walls seemed to be shrinking in on her as she sat under his scrutiny, the papers and the pen laying traitorously before her. It was one thing to be trapped with him. It was an entirely other thing to be legally bound to him. Legality was an axe hanging over her head. It made the probability of escape so much less likely.
There had been a hope that Hoseok would give up his delusional obsession with enough time.
If she didn’t fit the role he had imagined for her, he would let her go. Clearly, Hoseok didn’t have the same thought. Instead he’d presented her with a nail in the coffin. Men in these circles didn’t believe in divorce. They might not always be faithful to their wives, but divorce was never an option. She knew that well enough. This contract would quite literally bind her life to his for the rest of their days.
“Becuase I love you, sweetheart, and I want you to be my wife.”
“You’re insane.”
“Sign the papers.”
She shook her head, pulling her hand away from Hoseok to wrap her arms around herself. “You can’t do this. You can’t make me.”
Yoongi released a long-suffering sigh, leveling her with a stern look. “Your name is going to end up on those papers one way or another. It’s all been decided.”
Hoseok stood, slithering to stand behind her chair and bending so that his cheek was level with hers. “Sign the papers, precious.” His hands slid down from her shoulders to her arms, uncrossing them until his hands were over hers, their fingers intertwined. “Think of how much happier you’d be if you just gave in, if you agreed to be mine.”
Alarm bells sounded in her head.
Hoseok had made the entire ordeal about winning her over to his side. He wanted her consent for his obsession. He wanted her agreement. Signing this paper would give him that. It would open the door to everything that came after.
“I won’t do it.”
“Think of how much better things would be, precious. Think of how simple it would be to just be mine- the freedom you would have as Mrs. Jung.”
“I don’t want it.”
“You do.” he insisted, speaking directly into her ear. “You want freedom, darling. This paper will give you that.”
“That’s a lie.” She hissed, leaning away from him as much as she could. “You’re a liar. This is just another way to trap me.”
“Of course it is.” Hoseok cooed, nuzzling into her hair, loving the slight tremor that had overtaken her and the wide vulnerable look in her eye. He loved when she was fierce, but he loved it even more when she was soft for him. “I can’t have you running off, darling. You’re far too precious to me. This ensures that you’re mine no matter where you are- ensures you’ll always be brought back to me.”
“You’re sick.”
He smiled into her hair, grip loosening on her hands so he could pick up the pen. “I wouldn’t need legal assurances if you didn’t keep trying to scale the fucking walls.”
“Bastard.”
“Sign the papers, precious. Either you sign them yourself or Yoongi has them doctored. Either way, I win.”
He placed the pen in her hand, closing her fingers around it and backing away to give her room to sign.
Shakily, Y/N picked up the pen signing her name to the document despite the tremor making her signature messy and out of place next to Hoseok’s own quick and decisive signature. She didn’t doubt him when he said he’d have the paper forged. No matter what she chose to do, legally she’d be Mrs. Jung.
“Perfect.” Yoongi declared, taking the papers back from her once she’d signed and initialed all that was needed on the contract. “Now the certificate.”
He handed them the paper, and Hoseok signed without hesitation before handing the pen back to her where she signed again much to Hoseok’s delight.
“I’ll get these filed tomorrow. It was nice to meet you, precious.” He smiled for the first time that evening. “Welcome to the family.”
Y/N sat there shell shocked as he left, disbelieving of her own actions, disbelieving of the fact that she was legally Mrs. Jung Hoseok.
“We’re going to have the most beautiful wedding, darling.” Hoseok cooed, taking her hand in his to slip the final ring onto her finger. “And you’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”
Despite the state of shock that Y/N found herself in, Hoseok proceeded with the dinner as though it was a celebration and not her last meal. She supposed that to his mind it was a celebration. He’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted, and she’d walked away more powerless than before.
Hoseok prattled on about wedding details,and Y/N couldn’t pry her eyes away from the ring sitting very conspicuously on her left hand. The ruby set in the middle was large and dark. Set in an emerald cut, it demanded attention as a statement piece with two smaller baguette diamonds framing it on either side. It was a ring meant to draw notice, and it was distinctive enough that it would be recognized at a glance. It ensured that anyone in Hoseok’s circle would know who and what she was to him as soon as they saw it.
“Why?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, interrupting Hoseok’s musing on when would be the best time to hold the wedding.
“Why what, sweetheart?” He asked, tilting his head to the side inquisitively as he sipped his wine.
“Why did you do this to me? Wasn’t holding me hostage enough?”
The sigh he released was long-suffering in nature. “I don’t think you understand, darling. You’re mine. You were meant to be mine from that very first night, but you just can’t seem to realize that.” He shook his head sadly. “So stubborn.”
“I’m not yours.”
“You are.” he waved his hand breezily. “There’s no use fighting it, precious. This was always going to happen.”
Her gaze met his, eyes watery and red though she refused to let the tears fall. She didn’t want him to have that satisfaction. He’d taken enough from her for one night.
“Why now? What happened to wooing?”
He smiled indulgently at her. The expression was every bit as patronizing as the man who made it. “Y/N, my darling. My precious girl. You didn’t really think that your attempts to leave me would go unnoticed and unpunished? I already told you. Actions have consequences, and I wouldn’t need legal assurances if you simply stayed where you were supposed to.”
“It’s a cage.”
“You wouldn’t need a cage if you didn’t try to scale the walls, darling.” He shrugged. “Besides, there are worse things than marrying a man who adores you, and I do adore you, precious.”
“You barely even know me!”
“I know you very well, sweetheart. I know you haunt my every thought. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“And what about what I want?”
He sighed again, leaning back and crossing his arms as he assessed her. She felt less like a woman he claimed to adore and more like a puzzle to be solved under his gaze, like the last three months had been nothing more than a game and he was trying to figure out how to make his end move.
“It won’t be so bad.” It was a soft assurance, a repeat of what he’d already told her. “And as for wooing you softly, that clearly hasn’t worked. You need a more firm approach.”
“Excuse me?” She bristled.
He leaned forward, dark eyes focused solely on her. “Trying to win you over softly hasn’t gotten us anywhere. You’re too stubborn, precious. So now we try things my way.”
“The last three months haven’t been your way?”
A spark of excitement lit his eyes, a gleeful smile accompanying it. “If I’d had my way from the beginning, you’d have never left my bed. If I’d had my way, you’d have woken up every day in my bed.”
She hissed, recoiling away from him. “Fucking bastard.” she spat, standing from the table.
Hoseok followed, standing from his own seat. “If I remember correctly, you liked it when we did things my way.”
“Don’t touch me.” she backed away as he approached, crowding her towards the wall.
“It’s all I’ve been craving for months.” he murmured, caging her in. “It’s time I treated you like my woman- fully. Enough games, precious.”
“It’s not a game. I despise you. You make my skin crawl.”
He hummed non-comitally. “I can make you feel lots of things, if you give me the chance.”
A resounding crack filled the space, and silence descended onto the room.
Hoseok’s head stayed turned to the side as Y/N stared at him in shock, her hand stinging from the impact.
Neither of them moved for a long moment.
Hoseok stayed eerily still as the handprint reddened across his cheek.
Y/N barely dared to breathe as she waited for his reaction. Never in her life had she raised her hand to someone before, not like this. She remembered playfights with her brother as a child, but she’d never purposefully struck someone before.
Slowly, Hoseok turned back to face her, his face devoid of emotion as he stared down at her.
“Hoseok…” she breathed, wide eyes meeting his dead stare.
“I didn’t realize you wanted to play rough, precious.” he exhaled, leaning in to breathe in the scent of jasmine wafting from her skin. His nose trailed along the column of her throat as he held her in place. “We can play rough if you want,” he chuckled, nipping at the delicate skin where her jaw met her neck. “but I think I can think of some other ways to celebrate that would be more fun.”
“No.”
“Mrs. Jung. Jung Y/N.” he purred, placing open-mouth kisses down her throat to her collarbone. “God, that sounds so fucking hot.”
“Get off.”
He groaned as her arm snaked up and around his neck, finding cruel purchase in his hair as she tried to yank him away from her. “The things you do to me, precious.” She yanked on his hair again, eliciting another groan. “Keep going, precious. Show me your rage.”
He pressed his hips against hers, pushing her up against the wall more firmly and causing her to still at the feel of the hardness against her hip. “I’ve been craving this for months.”
His hands snaked down, caressing her curves as they made their way behind her upper thighs, lifting her suddenly and forcing her to jump if she didn’t want to fall and bunching her skirt up around her thighs. With her legs wrapped around his hips, Hoseok took full advantage of their position to slip his hands beneath the bunched up fabric of her skirt, caressing her bare thighs as he ravaged her neck once more. “My patience has been hanging by a fucking thread.”
“You’re disgusting.”
He hummed, kissing his way but up towards her jaw. “You always smell so sweet- just like jasmine.”
“Pervert.”
“Mrs. Jung.” He sighed contentedly against her.
“I”ll scream.” She threatened as he sucked a mark into the place where her jaw and throat met each other.
“Good..” She yelped as he bit down more sharply. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
She snarled, digging her nails in as she tried again to push him away from her despite the instability of her position pressed up against the wall. “I want you.” He purred, sighing against her skin. “I want you so much is maddening. Just let me adore you, precious. Would that be so bad?”
She hissed as he pressed his hips into hers, nestling into the space between her thighs. “Aren’t you tired, precious? Aren’t you, lonely? Don’t you want to feel loved?”
“Not by you.”
“I’m all you’ve got, precious. Let me worship you.”
“I don’t need you to worship me.” A strangled sound tore from her throat as Hoseok rolled his hips against hers.
“I know.” he grinned, placing a kiss to her pulse point. “Let me do it anyway.”
“You’re the worst person I know.” she hissed, melting into his touch despite her own better judgement.
It had been so long since she’d been held like this- so long since she’d had anyone who wanted her the way that he did. She knew it was wrong. It was twisted in too many ways to even begin to untangle, but despite knowing that, she found a small part of her wanting to give in- wanting to be adored the way that Hoseok promised to adore her. Even if it was wrong, even if it was twisted, it had to be better than isolation.
“You’re the best thing in my life. My heart. My wife.”
“Stop it.”
“You don’t want me to.” He whispered against her lips.
“Despicable.”
And the worst part was, he was right. Despite everything, when he held her like this, when he looked at her with those eyes, he made her feel so… precious.
Genre - smut 18+, established relationship au, MDNI
Wc - 5k
Warnings - yoongi's brother's reception, secret relationship, yoongi's aunt wants to set reader for her son🤪, jealous yoongi, Explicit smut - Hard dom yoongi, sub reader, chocking, mirror sex, unprotected sex, degradation, man handling, fingering, face fucking, spiting in mouth, edging, crying, hair pulling, marking
The Min family estate is breathtaking, especially tonight. The glow of fairy lights, the grand chandeliers, with laughter and music filling the air.
You step out of the car, adjusting the delicate fabric of your dress. With one final glance at your reflection in the tinted window, you reach for your phone, fingers gliding over the screen.
You: just reached. where are you?
It takes only a few seconds before your boyfriend replies.
Yoon: 2nd floor. Left side of the hall
The moment you step inside it's filled with the scent of fresh flowers and expensive cologne. Your lips curve slightly as you push through the crowd, eyes scanning the space.
It doesn't take long for you to find him.
Min Yoongi, standing near the far end of the ballroom, eyes already locked onto you like a magnet.
He’s dressed in a tailored black suit, crisp and perfect. One hand is tucked into his pocket while the other lazily holds a glass of whiskey, but it’s his eyes that hold you captive.
Those dark eyes roam over you, starting from the waves of your hair down to the delicate curve of your neckline. They trail lower, taking in the way your dress hugs every inch of your body. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips ever so slightly, making heat crawl up your skin.
Your phone buzzes again.
Yoon: You look beautiful
You bite your lip, glancing at him beneath your lashes.
You: And you look like trouble
The corner of his lips twitches, and even from across the room, you see the slight shake of his head.
A familiar voice calls your name.
“Finally! We were starting to think you weren’t coming.”
You turn to see your friends waving you over. You weave through the crowd smiling, and join them, instantly enveloped in chatter.
Taehyung’s already halfway through his drink, Jimin’s adjusting his blazer and Hoseok is grinning at you.
“You look stunning,” Jimin remarks. “Bet someone over there is losing his mind right now,” he says, giving you a knowing smirk.
You roll your eyes, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you. “Would you shut up?”
“Oh, come on,” Hoseok teases.
You can't deny though, because you can feel it too. Yoongi’s gaze.
“Must be so hard pretending you two aren’t together,” Taehyung adds, sighing dramatically. “Poor Yoongi hyung, watching you like a lovesick fool but having to act all cool and composed.”
You shake your head, laughing softly. “We’ll tell his parents when we’re ready.”
And that’s the truth. His family is traditional, full of expectations, while Yoongi never cared much for their opinions. But still, you asked to wait before telling them. And he agreed, because this decision was yours to make together.
A fresh round of laughter pulls you from your thoughts, and you join in easily.
“Yoongi hyung!” Taehyung exclaims a bit dramatic, grinning as he lifts his glass.
Yoongi huffs, sliding effortlessly, his fingers grazing your waist just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to be noticed by anyone else. His way of saying hi when he can’t say it out loud.
He just leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, just for you to hear, “You do look beautiful.”
And just like that, you’re gone.
----
The function moves along in a blur of clinking glasses, lively conversations. Yoongi -ever the reluctant center of attention, eventually takes the stage for a speech. His voice carrying warmth as he speaks about his brother and new beginnings.
And then, as quickly as he appeared, he’s swept away, pulled into conversations that demand his time- relatives, business associates.
Meanwhile, you remain with your friends. Jimin recounts a particularly embarrassing memory from their younger days, making Taehyung groan dramatically. Easy laughter fills amongst you.
After some time, you make your way toward the drinks table, the glass in your hand nearly empty. As you tilt your glass for a refill, a voice almost too-sweet cuts through the noise.
“My, my… such a lovely young woman all alone at the drinks table?”
You glance up, meeting the keen eyes of a lady, dressed in an elegant hanbok.
“You must be close to the Min family,” she continues, stepping beside you, her smile never faltering. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking yet.”
Your fingers pause around the stem of your glass, momentarily confused. You’re certain you’ve never seen her before. Not the few gatherings that you've attended along with your mutual friends, neither in any of the rare photos Yoongi has shared with you. But still, you offer a polite smile and a slight bow in greeting.
“Ah.. I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” you say. “But it’s lovely to meet you.”
She lets out an amused laugh, “Oh, dear, that’s because I don’t visit often,” she says, waving a delicate hand. “But I am part of the family. Yoongi’s aunt.”
Your grip on your glass tightens just slightly. Yoongi’s aunt. You nod politely, offering a small smile. “Oh, I see. It’s nice to meet you. I'm Han Y/n.”
She hums, eyes scanning you in a way that feels far too observant. “I noticed you earlier with Yoongi’s friends,” she says, taking a delicate sip of her drink. “You seem quite close to them.”
“They’re good friends of mine,” you reply keeping your tone light.
She hums again, a knowing glint in her eyes. “You’re quite a lovely girl. Well-mannered, and beautiful too.” Her voice is warm, almost too sweet. “It’s a shame someone in the family hasn’t snatched you up already.”
You blink, caught slightly off guard by her sudden comment. “Oh?”
She nods, setting her glass down on the nearby table. “My son, Seojun-ah—my brilliant boy. He just returned from New York a few months ago. Studied and worked there for years. Hardworking boy.” She smiles as she continues, “In my opinion... you two would make a wonderful pair.”
Ah. So that’s where this is going.
You school your expression, forcing a polite smile. “That’s... kind of you to say.”
She leans in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “He’s single, you know. And someone like you—” she gestures vaguely, as if you’re the perfect ideal, “—would be perfect for him.”
You grip your glass a little tighter, willing yourself to stay calm. “That’s flattering,” you reply, carefully measured. “But I’m not really looking for anything like that right now.”
Her smile falters for only a fraction of a second before she recovers, waving a hand. “Oh, nonsense. A woman like you shouldn’t be single for long.” She tilts her head, watching you closely. “Unless, of course... you’re already seeing someone?”
Just as you part your lips to respond, a familiar voice cuts in.
“Auntie, where have you been so long!?”
You turn to see Taehyung, his signature smile already in place as he slides into the conversation.
The aunt’s face lights up in recognition. “Oh, Taehyung! It’s been so long. Look at you! so handsome as always.”
The woman chuckles, tilting her head toward you. “I was just asking her if she’s single or maybe interested in meeting my son.” Her tone is light with teasing.
“Oh, she’s totally single.”
Your head snaps toward him, eyes widening in silent betrayal. He doesn’t even try to hide the amusement in his gaze.
The aunt's face lights up with excitement at Taehyung’s words. “Really? That’s wonderful!” She claps her hands together, already looking around. “Let me introduce you to Seojun. He must be here somewhere.”
Your heart stutters, a flicker of panic rising in your chest. Shit.
You shoot Taehyung a murderous glare, but the bastard only sips his drink, eyes glinting with pure mischief. You know he’s enjoying this way too much.
“That’s really not necessary—” You start, voice edged with nervous laughter, but the aunt isn’t even listening. Her eyes scan the ballroom eagerly, as if his son will magically appear at any moment.
“Well, this sounds like a lovely setup, but I promised someone a dance,” Taehyung, your so-called friend is already retreating with a shit-eating grin. “Have fun, you two!”
Your glare could burn holes through him, but he’s gone before you can protest. Your fingers tighten around your glass. You need to find a way out of this. Fast.
“There he is! Seojun-ah!” The aunt’s delighted voice rings out as she waves eagerly.
Your stomach drops as a man maybe around Yoongi's age, turns toward the call, eyes narrowing in confusion before he approaches.
He’s tall, well-dressed, and honestly quite handsome, but that’s not the issue. The issue is that you know exactly what’s happening, and by the look on his face when his mother introduces you, so does he.
"This is Y/n, sweetheart!” his mother exclaims, practically radiating excitement. “Such a lovely girl. You two should chat, I have a feeling you’ll get along very well.”
“I’ll leave you to it! No need to thank me,” she's disappearing into the crowd before either of you can react.
Seojun chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I know what my mom’s trying to do..” His eyes flicker with mild embarrassment before he sighs. “Sorry if she made you uncomfortable. You really don’t have to entertain this.”
He seems genuinely shy, his words coming out in a rushed ramble as he struggles to navigate the awkward situation.
You offer him a small smile, trying to ease his nerves. "I wasn’t expecting it, but..” You glance around briefly, hoping for an escape. “She seems too... enthusiastic?”
Seojun lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “That’s one way to put it.” He takes a sip of his drink, still looking slightly mortified. “She’s been on this matchmaking spree lately. Thinks it’s her life’s mission to get me married off.”
You chuckle at that.
Meanwhile, across the ballroom, Yoongi strides back toward your group, his gaze scanning for you instinctively. But a frown tugs at his lips.
“Where is she?”
Jimin and Hoseok exchange glances, poorly hiding their amused smirks. Taehyung, however, doesn’t bother to hold back his laughter.
“Oh, hyung,” he drawls, draping an arm over Yoongi’s shoulder dramatically. “Your dear girlfriend is currently on her way to becoming your sister-in-law.”
Jimin finally loses it, chuckling as he nods toward the far side of the room. “One of your aunts decided she’d be the perfect match for Seojun.”
Hoseok chimes in, shaking his head. “She just pulled her aside like it was fate.”
Yoongi’s eyes flicker towards where you stand. The moment he spots you, with Seojun, no less, looking all polite and engaged in conversation and that makes something sharp coils in his chest.
His fingers flex, tightening around his wine glass, an odd heat creeping up his spine.
It’s irrational, really. He knows you. Knows you’re probably just being your usual, kind self. But the fact that someone else—some other man—is standing in front of you, looking at you like you’re something to consider, doesn’t sit well with him.
Seojun is laughing lightly, and you’re chuckling too—chuckling.
“Hyung,” Taehyung drawls, watching the way his expression darkens. “You good?”
Yoongi doesn’t answer, face almost unreadable as he downs the rest of his drink in one smooth motion.
You offer Seojun a polite smile, searching for a way to wrap this up without seeming rude. "It was nice talking to you, but I should get back to my friends," you say lightly.
Seojun, still a little flustered from the situation his mother put him in, nods quickly. "Oh, of course! Yeah, no worries," he says, "Enjoy the rest of the night."
You give him a small nod before turning away as relief washes over you. The moment you step closer to your group, the playful energy among them is unmistakable.
Taehyung is already smirking ready to tease, but before he can open his mouth, you shoot him a glare that makes him chuckle instead.
“So, how was your first meeting with your future husband?”
You shoot him a dry look. “Shut up.”
Jimin snickers beside you. “You two really did look good together, though.”
You roll your eyes, shifting slightly on your feet. Yoongi sets his drink down and just as you open your mouth, “Yoongi—”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he simply mutters, “Excuse me,” and turns away, heading toward a group of guests like nothing just happened.
Huh?
Did he just.. walk away? Just like that?
You stare at his retreating back, your lips parting slightly in disbelief. This man. You weren’t even the one who dragged yourself into that conversation with the guy. It’s not like you were flirting! If Yoongi’s gonna be all broody and distant over something that wasn’t even your fault—
You huff, crossing your arms. If he wants to play the ignoring game, so will you.
The lights dim, the dance floor filled with soft music. Even Yoongi’s parents share a brief dance, their laughter blending with the sweet ambiance of the evening.
Yet, Yoongi still hasn’t spoken to you since he left. Not that you care.
The crowd stands watching, some cheering for the dancing couples. Just as you shift, thinking about moving elsewhere, someone stumbles into you.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the person says quickly. You turn to see Seojun, his eyes widening slightly in surprise before he chuckles.
“It’s okay,” you say, offering a small smile. He seems like he’s about to excuse himself when you hear a very familiar voice beside him.
“Oh my! I knew it!” she exclaims excitedly. “You two were bound to click!”
Your stomach drops.
She's already nudging her son towards you.
“Ask her to dance!” she insists, practically beaming.
Your eyes widen slightly, panic bubbling up. How the hell do you keep finding yourself in these situations tonight?
He almost pleads with his eyes for his mother to let it go, but she remains insistent, nudging both of you onto the dance floor.
Realizing there’s no way out, Seojun clears his throat, his shyness giving way to a small smile.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks.
Your heart beats faster—definitely not from excitement but from sheer disbelief at how the night keeps unfolding.
Yoongi was busy handling some final wedding details when Namjoon nudges his arm.
"Isn't that Y/n?"
Yoongi’s eyes flicker towards the dance floor, scanning the crowd until they land on you.
And just like that, his entire demeanor shifts.
There you were, on the dance floor. With Seojun. His arm lightly placed on your waist while your hand rested in his. Yoongi watched as you let out a small laugh, though your body language still seemed slightly stiff. That didn’t matter.
The sight of you with someone else was enough to make something simmer inside him.
"Damn…you look like you’re about to murder someone." Namjoon chuckled.
"Shut up, Joon."
Your laughter fades slightly, and almost instinctively, as your eyes flicker over to Yoongi’s.
The second your gazes meet, your breath catches. His darkened eyes are locked onto you. Even from across the room, the weight of his stare is suffocating. His grip on his drink is tight, jaw clenched. You can practically feel the tension radiating off him.
Seojun says something with a chuckle, "I don't think we've had a formal introduction, I'm Min Seojun—"
But you barely register it. Your heartbeat picks up, and suddenly you’re hyperaware of everything. The placement of Seojun’s hand, the closeness of the dance, the way Yoongi’s expression darkens further with each passing second.
You take a deep breath, deciding you’ve had enough. You quickly scan the crowd, searching for Yoongi's aunt, hoping she’s wandered off elsewhere. When you don’t spot her, you take it as your cue to end this.
Slipping out of Seojun’s light hold, you step back offering him a polite but firm smile. “I'm sorry, I think I should leave—”
You turn before finishing, weaving your way through the mass of people to find an open space away from the dance floor. The air feels cooler here, giving you a brief moment to collect yourself. Just as you exhale, a hand wraps around your wrist.
“Y/n,” Seojun’s voice is gentle as he calls out, his grip enough to make you turn around.
“I… are you free this weekend?” he asks suddenly, his voice steady despite the slight pink dusting his cheeks.
You blink, completely taken aback.
The last thing you expected was for him to ask you out. Your lips part, ready to form a rejection—
But you don’t get the chance.
Because before you can even utter a word, another hand snatches yours away from Seojun’s grasp.
“She’s not.”
Your breath catches as you whip your head around, your wide eyes meeting Yoongi’s. His fingers are wrapped securely around your hand. His jaw is clenched, the muscle ticking as his stormy gaze remains locked onto Seojun.
The voice was filled with an unmistakable edge which startles Seojun, clearly caught off guard. His gaze flickers between the two of you, slowly processing the situation—the way Yoongi's hand hold yours.
“Oh…okay,” Seojun mutters after a beat, letting out a slight awkward chuckle. His eyes dart to you once more, lingering for a second before he turns back to Yoongi.
“See ya around, Hyung,” he says, forcing a half-smile before finally stepping away.
You glance up at your boyfriend, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Yoongi—”
“Don't."
Yoongi’s grip on your wrist is possessive as he tugs you through the crowd. Your heart pounds in your chest, the buzz of music and laughter fading into the background as he leads you down the dimly lit hallway.
His silence is deafening, the tension in the air between you growing further.
“Yoongi—” You try to call his name, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look back. His fingers tighten around your wrist just enough to make you swallow your words. You don’t know if it’s jealousy, anger, or something deeper that’s driving him right now.
A door swings open, and Yoongi pulls you inside. Turning you around and pressing you against the slammed door.
“You think this is funny?”
His arms cage you in, palms flat beside your head as he leans in. His breath is warm against your skin, but there’s nothing soft about the way he speaks.
Your voice wavers slightly. “Yoongi.. I - your aunt forced us to dance—”
“Forced you?” he repeats, his tone laced with disbelief, his dark gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes. “Did she force you to smile at him too? To let him touch you?”
“It wasn’t like that,” you say quickly, your hands pressing lightly against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. His body is warm, and his scent fucking intoxicating.
Yoongi scoffs, his fingers curling against the door beside your head. “Then what was it like, huh?” His voice is lower now, rough with something unreadable. “Because from where I stood, it sure as hell looked like you were enjoying yourself.”
You blink up at him, your heart hammering. “You know I didn't mean it any other way,” you defend, your voice softer now.
Yoongi exhales sharply through his nose, his tongue swiping over his lower lip in frustration.
You barely get his name out before his lips crash onto yours, cutting off whatever you were about to say. A shocked gasp escapes you, but he doesn’t give you a second to process as his hands grip your waist, pulling you impossibly close as his lips move against yours with almost a punishing force.
Your fingers tighten around his blazer. His body presses against yours. The kiss is fiery, nothing like the gentle ones he’s given you before.
His teeth graze your lower lip, and you whimper softly, your knees nearly buckling.
Yoongi growls lowly at the sound, one of his hands sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face so he can deepen the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs, making your head spin.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His voice low, as he growls.
You look up at him, panting softly, yet eyes laced with something playful. You’ve never seen Yoongi this worked up. In all the years you’ve been together, he’s always been the calm one. But fuck, seeing him loose his cool, it’s turning you on more than you care to admit.
“Didn’t know you could be this jealous,” you murmur a breathless whisper meant to provoke.
Yoongi’s eyes narrow, his jaw ticking.
“Don’t test me, princess,” he breathes, his voice low with warning as his hand slowly wraps around your throat, enough to make you feel the warmth.
“You don’t want to play with fire.”
Your breath hitches at the sensation, but the way your thighs clench in response betrays your thoughts.
“But I want to,” you whisper.
And just like that, the last thread of restraint snaps within Yoongi.
Yoongi’s breath fans against your ear as he leans in, voice like gravel. “You asked for it.”
A low groan rumbles from deep in his chest as he tugs you to the mirror counter, spinning you around, pressing his body flush against yours.
His hands grip the zipper of your dress, yanking it down roughly. The fabric pools at your feet, leaving you standing there in your panties and bra. You catch your breath, eyes wide as his hungry gaze roams over you.
He bends you forward over the counter, one hand steadying your waist. Then, with a ruthless flick, he shoves your panties down, tearing them in the process.
You gasp sharply, “Yoongi!”
“I’ll buy you new ones.”
His fingers already dig inside you, rough, stroking deep and fast. You moan his name, your body arching involuntarily against the counter.
He curls his fingers, pressing that perfect spot inside you while his thumb rubs fiercely over your clit. The sensations swirl and crash through you. Your fingers tangle into his long hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you moan his name, breathless and desperate.
His free hand grips your thigh, keeping you spread open for him. You can’t control the soft cries that slip past your lips, but the sound only makes him work you harder.
Biting down on his shoulder, you try to muffle your moans, he growls, hands gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. “My little slut, aren't you” he hisses, voice dripping with raw possession. “Always soaking wet for me.”
Your moans grow louder, trembling on the edge. He pulls his fingers out abruptly, leaving you aching and desperate.
“Get on your knees.”
Your legs are wobbly but you obey without hesitation.
He unzips his pants, the sight of him already driving you wild. His cock stands hard and proud, and you feel a fresh rush of heat flood your core.
Yoongi’s gaze never leaves you as he grips himself slowly stroking that make your breath catch.
He cups your chin with another hand tilting your head up.
“Open.” Yoongi leans in, spitting into your mouth. You swallow instinctively, meeting his gaze with a mix of submission and desire.
“Good girl.”
Yoongi’s gaze burns down at you, eyes sharpening as they lock onto yours. His fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face up like you belonged to him, because you fucking do.
“You know the safe word, right?”
You swallow hard, nerves and need tangling together as you nod.
He pushes forward, sliding into you with a deliberate force that took your breath away.
His hand finds your hair, fingers threading firmly through the strands, pulling you closer. “Look at you,” he growls under his breath, his hips rolling deeper. “Taking me so well.”
His lips part in a guttural groan, head tilting back.
“Fuck...” he breathed out, voice ragged, “That mouth is made for me, yeah.”
He was claiming you with every thrust, every touch, every breath, and you knew you were exactly where you belonged.
Your throat tightens further with each controlled roll of his hips, the stretch forcing little whimpers from you.
A choked gag slips out as he sinks deeper.
You blink up through watery lashes, lips stretching around him as you look up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.
His own gaze burned into yours.
“Fuck,” he hisses, slipping his cock out.
You gasp at the loss, lips swollen.
You let out a soft, startled sound as he hoists you up onto the cool counter, your back hits the mirror behind the vanity, and Yoongi stands between your thighs.
His palm slide up the inside of your thigh, forcing them open wider.
He drags the swollen head of his cock along your folds, slick with your arousal. His other hand came to your jaw. One deep thrust and you cry out his name, and Yoongi captures it in a messy kiss.
Your gasp was sharp, ripped straight from your lungs as he bottomed out inside you, the stretch making your eyes squeeze shut—but Yoongi didn’t let you hide.
His body was pressed tightly between your thighs, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the steamy glass.
“Look at you,” he growls, thrusting hard, “Fucking dumb on my cock.”
You whimper in response.
“You think anyone else could fuck you like this?” he hisses, lips brushing your ear.
You shook your head frantically, tears finally slipping down your cheeks, “N-No, Yoongi—only you.”
“That’s right,” he growled, pace unrelenting. “You’re mine. This sweet little pussy, all mine."
He grabs your thighs, hoisting you closer to the edge as his thrusts turns downright brutal.
Your head falls back with a sobbed moan, mouth open, drool trailing from the corner of your lips as your walls clenched tighter.
“I—Yoongi, I’m close,” you gasp, voice high and wrecked, each breath punched out of you with the way he slams into you over and over, your thighs trembling around his hips.
Of course he knows. He feels the way you’re fluttering around him, pulling him in, desperate to tip over.
“Not yet,” he growls, voice rough in your ear.
You let out a broken sound, frustration spilling into a sob, your nails digging into his shoulders. But he’s already pulling out, your body twitching from the sudden emptiness.
Yoongi grabs your waist and slides you off the counter.
Your legs barely hold you up as he spins you around, your palms splayed on the mirror, your cheek flushed against the surface. His hand guides your hips back, arching you until you’re right where he wants you.
One ruthless thrust that has your eyes flying open, a loud, helpless moan spilling from your lips. “Fuck,” you cry out, your breath fogging the mirror. “Yoongi—”
His mouth finds your neck, teeth sinking into your skin with a sharp bite that has you clenching around him instantly.
He groans at that, sucking a mark into your skin.
“Mine,” he snarls against your throat.
His hand slides up your chest, your sternum and closes firmly around your throat. His body is burning against yours, muscles tense, heat radiating between you.
“Open your eyes,” he growls.
Your lashes flutter. You look wrecked. Your gaze meets his through the mirror. Yoongi's dark eyes locked onto you, jaw clenched as he rasps against your ear.
“The only Min you’ll ever get is this one.”
You clench around him so hard it makes both of you groan. Your legs buckle, body begging to come undone.
“You wanna come, baby?” he whispers. “Say it.”
The grip on your throat sends heat straight through you. You nod, trembling, as your voice cracks, “Y-Yes, Yoongi please—”
His free hand slides down your front, trailing between your thighs, already soaked and trembling and finds your clit.
Your moan was filthy, echoing off the walls. You couldn't even try to bite it back.
If anyone was outside the door, there’d be no doubt about what was happening in here. The obscene sounds of his hips slamming into you, your cries, was undeniable. Yoongi didn’t care. In fact, it only spurred him on. “Louder,” he hissed into your ear. “Let them fucking hear who owns you.”
His fingers moved in merciless, dragging you faster toward the edge than you could handle.
You couldn’t breathe.
You couldn’t think.
Your body trembled so hard it was barely standing, your palms slipping on the mirror as you braced yourself, tears sliding down your flushed cheeks. His cock pounded into you, filling you so deep you swore you felt him everywhere.
You sobbed out his name, gasping.
And Yoongi was right there, mouth at your ear, voice low and dark as sin.
“Come for me, baby. Ruin this mirror. Ruin yourself."
Your orgasm hits you so intense it robs you of breath. Your body locks up, trembling hard around him, and you scream his name like it’s the only word you know, your voice shattering under the force of it. Your walls pulse around him, clenching with desperate rhythm, and he groans.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls through clenched teeth, hips crashing against you one final time. “All mine.”
He buries himself deep spilling inside you with a broken curse.
His forehead drops against the side of your head.
Tears stream down your face from the overwhelming release, legs barely holding you upright.
His cock still twitches inside you.
He slips out of you carefully, catching your body as it slumps forward, cradling you against his chest. His hand rubs soothing circles over your bare back.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, lips brushing your temple. “You did so fucking good. I got you.”
Your tears wet his neck as you try to calm down. His thumb brushes your cheek, catching the tear trails.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
You nod, sniffling as he’s rubs your back.
“I might intentionally piss you off sometime if it gets you like this.” You manage to speak after a moment.
You feel him pause for a second. Then a dangerous chuckle rumbles from his chest, as he looks down at you.
Those dark eyes flicker with something primal, half warning, half promise.
He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, as leans in.
“Don’t tempt me,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “Because you know I’ll fucking ruin you all over again.”
Your thighs clench involuntarily. When Min Yoongi says that, you know he means it.
Warnings: stalking, dark and possessive Yoongi, intimate scene, kidnapping, captivity
Masterlist
She woke up alone.
For a moment, she didn’t panic. The other side of the bed was still warm beneath her fingertips, the sheets tangled with traces of him, his scent lingering on the pillows. She figured maybe he had gone out to get coffee, or perhaps he was in the bathroom, quiet as always.
Then the memories of last night began slipping back into her mind in scattered flashes.
His hands cradling her face so gently, as if she were something precious. The way his lips moved against hers, slow at first, patient, teasing, before kissing her with a hunger that left her breathless. The faint sting of his possessive marks still decorating the delicate skin of her neck made her shiver beneath the blanket.
A blurry flash crossed her mind:
His lips brushing against her ear, his voice low and husky enough to make her entire body melt.
“Shh… let me take care of you.”
Another memory followed almost instantly: his fingers intertwined with hers against the sheets while he pressed soft kisses down her shoulder, taking his time as though he wanted to memorize every inch of her.
He had been attentive in ways she never expected. Careful. Almost dangerously caring.
Everything about him last night had felt intoxicating.
The warmth of his body hovering over hers. His quiet praises murmured against her skin. The way he watched her reactions so closely, like her pleasure mattered more to him than anything else in the world.
Even now, remembering it made heat crawl up her cheeks.
She buried her face deeper into the pillow with a sleepy smile, hiding beneath the blanket like a shy girl trying to escape her own thoughts. Her fingers brushed absentmindedly against the marks on her neck, and another wave of embarrassment washed over her.
God.
The things he had done to her.
And somehow, despite all of it, the memory that stayed with her the most wasn’t the passion.
It was how tender he had been afterward.
Then she noticed the silence. Not the comfortable kind. The hotel room felt too still.
No phone buzzing.
No television in the background.
No water running in the bathroom.
Nothing.
Her sleepy smile slowly faded. Frowning, she sat up and reached for her phone on the bedside table.
It was gone.
A strange coldness unfurled in her stomach.
“Yoongi?” she called softly, her voice still rough with sleep.
No answer.
She climbed out of bed and quickly pulled on her clothes from the night before, her movements suddenly clumsy with unease as her eyes darted around the room.
That was when she noticed it. Her passport was gone too. The realization made her chest tighten instantly.
Okay.
Not funny.
“Yoongi?”
Still nothing.
She checked the bathroom.
Empty.
Living area.
Empty.
Her breathing quickened.
Then finally the hotel room door opened.
Yoongi stepped inside carrying two cups of coffee and a paper bag stained faintly with oil from breakfast pastries, as though this were an ordinary morning.
As though the world had not quietly shifted beneath her feet while she slept.
He smiled the second he saw her awake.
“There you are.” His voice was warm. Gentle enough to soothe.
Relief crashed into her so hard she almost felt stupid for panicking.
Then she noticed it. Her eyes dropped instinctively to the shape hidden inside the pocket of his hoodie. Her phone in his pocket.
Something inside her twisted.
“Why do you have my phone?”
The smile faded slightly.
“You were sleeping.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He crossed the room calmly and placed the coffees onto the counter with unbearable care, the soft clink of the cups echoing louder than it should have in the suffocating quiet.
Then she noticed the hotel keycard tucked beside her phone.
His pockets carrying pieces of her life.
Little stolen freedoms.
“You don’t need it right now.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What?”
His expression softened immediately at her tone.
“Baby, don’t look at me like that.” he murmured, stepping closer.
The nickname felt wrong suddenly.
Sharp.
Unfamiliar.
Last night it had sounded intimate. But now it sounded like ownership.
“Where’s my passport?”
Silence.
And in that silence she knew.
True fear bloomed cold and sickening through her body.
Violet.
Primal.
“No," she whispered immediately, shaking her head before he could even speak. "No... no, no, no."
He moved toward her slowly.
Carefully.
Like approaching a frightened animal trembling in the corner of a cage.
“I didn’t want to do it like this.”
Her heart began hammering violently.
“What do you mean like this?”
“You were supposed to understand first.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
His jaw tightened slightly at the curse.
“I love you.”
The words hit her like ice water.
Not because they were romantic.
Because of the way he said them.
Absolute.
Certain.
Terrifying.
Her mouth went dry.
“You’re scaring me.”
Pain flashed instantly across his face.
Real pain.
That somehow made it worse.
Because he meant every word.
“I would never hurt you.”
“Then give me my phone and passport back.”
Silence again. Smothering silence.
The room suddenly felt smaller. The walls too close. The air too thick to breathe.
“Oh my god.” She took a shaky step backward. “Oh my god.”
Panic exploded fully now.
This wasn't a misunderstanding or a mistake. This was real and it was happening to her.
No, no, no. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. She thought.
“You’re not leaving,” Yoongi said softly.
“No.”
“You are staying with me.”
“No!”
Her voice cracked sharply.
She rushed toward the hotel door, but he was faster. His hand closed around her wrist before she could reach the handle.
Not rough.
Firm.
“Let go of me!”
“Please calm down—”
“Are you insane?!”
The words sliced through him visibly.
His grip tightened unconsciously.
“You don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t understand!” she cried, struggling violently now. “You can’t do this!”
“I can take care of you—”
“I don’t want you to!”
The second the words left her mouth, something dark flickered across his expression.
Not rage exactly.
Devastation.
Like she’d stabbed directly into something vulnerable inside him.
Her fear spiked harder.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do!”
“No.” His voice had gone eerily calm now. “You’re scared. That’s all.”
“Of course, I’m scared, you psycho!”
She yanked against his grip again.
“Let me go!”
Yoongi pulled her against him suddenly, arms locking tightly around her body before she could escape again.
She began fighting immediately.
Kicking. Hitting. Struggling.
Shoving desperately against his chest.
“Stop! Stop touching me!”
“Please,” he whispered shakily into her hair. “Please don’t do this.”
Tears burned down her face.
“Yoongi please—”
“I can make you happy,” he said desperately. “I know I can.”
“You’re hurting me!”
That made him loosen his grip instantly.
But not enough to release her.
Never enough for that.
She sobbed against his chest, trembling violently while he held her tighter.
And somewhere beneath the panic and horror flooding her body another realization settled in coldly.
Could someone please recommend me either dark yandere Namjoon x Reader or dark yandere Yoongi x Reader fics? The darker the better! Please!<3 (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
Big thanks in advance! 💖
Disclaimer: This is a dark fiction that includes heavy themes and adult content. Do not read if you feel uncomfortable with such topics. You are responsible for your media consumption. Please read with caution!
Chapter 1 - The Fansign
Chapter 2 - Where mistakes lead
Chapter 3 - Warning bells
Chapter 4 - Morning after
Chapter 5 - The softness of chains
Chapter 6 - The damage of gentle hands
Chapter 7 -
Chapter 8 -
Chapter 9 -
Warnings: stalking, dark and possessive Yoongi, intimate scene
Masterlist
Yoongi knew he was losing his mind.
The rational part of him understood that.
Understood that normal people did not arrange private drivers to secretly follow a woman they’d known for less than a month.
Normal people did not use company connections to quietly learn her hotel floor number.
Normal people did not sit awake until four in the morning listening to old voice notes just because they missed hearing her laugh.
But every time he tried to force himself to step back, panic clawed up his throat so violently he couldn’t breathe.
Because she was leaving soon.
Every day, every hour, every minute brought him closer to losing her.
And Yoongi had spent his entire life losing things he loved.
He couldn’t do it again.
Not this time.
Not with her.
She noticed something was wrong the next morning.
At first, it was only little things.
The driver waiting outside her hotel already knew her name before she introduced herself.
The hotel staff started treating her like royalty.
Someone upgraded her hotel room without explanation.
When she texted Yoongi about it jokingly, his response came almost immediately.
Want me to make your whole life easier too?
A strange feeling settled in her stomach.
She stared at the message longer than she should have.
Then typed back:
That sounds vaguely threatening lol
The typing bubble appeared instantly.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Finally:
I’d never hurt you.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
The wording felt strange.
Too serious for the conversation.
Before she could reply, another message arrived.
Did you eat breakfast?
And just like that, the tension dissolved.
She shook her head at herself.
She was overthinking.
Obviously.
The flight got canceled halfway through boarding.
Apparently there was a technical issue.
Then the next available flight was delayed until the following morning.
Annoying, but not catastrophic.
Except when she texted Yoongi to complain about it, he replied:
Good.
She frowned at her screen.
Good???
Means I get another day with you.
Butterflies erupted embarrassingly in her stomach despite herself.
Still.
Something about all of this felt oddly convenient.
Too convenient.
The cancellation.
The sudden delay.
Even the gate change that had happened minutes before boarding.
It all felt… orchestrated somehow.
She stared at the airline notification again while sitting on the edge of the hotel bed.
Technical issue.
The wording was vague enough to mean absolutely anything.
Her mind drifted unwillingly back to the strange little moments from the past week.
The upgraded hotel room.
The driver who already knew her name.
The way problems around her kept mysteriously solving themselves before she even had the chance to stress about them.
And always, always somehow connected to Yoongi.
A laugh escaped her softly.
“No,” she muttered to herself.
That was insane.
Actually insane.
Yoongi was intense, yes. Overprotective maybe. A little emotionally attached far too quickly.
But sabotaging a flight?
That was the kind of thing that happened in thrillers and true crime documentaries, not real life.
By the time Yoongi arrived at her hotel later that evening, she’d almost convinced herself she was imagining things.
Almost.
He looked unusually tense when she opened the door.
His eyes swept over her quickly, checking.
Safe.
Still here.
Relief visibly loosened his shoulders.
“You look stressed,” she said softly.
Yoongi stepped inside the room without answering immediately.
Because he was stressed.
Every second apart from her lately felt unbearable.
Like standing too close to the edge of something catastrophic.
He needed permanence.
Certainty.
He needed her where nobody else could take her away.
And the terrifying thing was that the idea no longer sounded extreme in his head.
It sounded necessary.
“I’m okay,” he lied quietly.
She watched him carefully.
“You sure?”
God, she was gentle with him.
Even now.
Even when she should’ve been afraid.
The guilt flickered briefly through him before obsession swallowed it again.
“You don’t look okay.”
A faint smile touched his mouth, but it never reached his eyes.
“I’m tired.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
He was exhausted from constantly restraining himself.
From pretending his thoughts were still normal.
From acting like he wasn’t one bad moment away from asking her to stay forever and meaning it.
She stepped a little closer instinctively.
Concern softened every line of her expression.
“Did something happen?”
The question nearly unraveled him.
Because something had happened.
He’d fallen so deeply into obsession that the idea of losing her now felt physically unbearable.
And she still looked at him with nothing but kindness.
He reached for her without thinking, fingers brushing softly against her wrist.
“Let me stay tonight.”
Her breath caught softly.
The words weren’t forceful.
If anything, they sounded dangerously close to pleading.
“Yoongi…”
His gaze dropped for a second before returning to hers.
“Please.”
That was what undid her.
Not the request itself.
The exhaustion behind it.
He looked exhausted.
Dark circles under his eyes. Shoulders tense. Mouth pressed tightly together like he was holding himself back from something.
Her expression softened immediately.
That night should’ve warned her.
Looking back later, she would realize there had been signs everywhere.
The way Yoongi barely let go of her once she let him in her hotel room. The way his hand constantly rested somewhere on her body, her waist, her thigh, her wrist, as if reassuring himself she was real.
The way he kept asking strange questions.
“Have you dated a lot?”
“Would you ever move to Korea?”
“Do your parents expect you home immediately?”
“What would happen if you disappeared for a while?”
That last one made her laugh nervously.
Yoongi didn’t.
“Hypothetically,” he added quietly.
She studied him carefully.
“Why would I disappear?”
His gaze dropped briefly.
“You tell me.”
A chill crept subtly down her spine.
But then he kissed her.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And her thoughts dissolved completely.
Because kissing Min Yoongi felt dangerous in the most intoxicating way imaginable.
He kissed like he meant it.
Like he was starving.
His hands trembled slightly against her waist as he pulled her into his lap on the hotel bed, breathing her in like he was addicted already.
Maybe he was.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against her mouth.
Heat rushed through her body.
“Yoongi…”
“I can’t think straight around you anymore.”
There was something almost frightening about the honesty in his voice.
But before she could process it, he was kissing her again, deeper this time, one hand sliding into her hair.
He slowly moved to her neck, tilting her head to the side to gain more access to her sensitive skin. She felt him leaving open mouthed kisses and soft bites all along the area, as if claiming his territory, declaring his ownership.
He laid her on the bed and got on top of her carefully. Too carefully, like she was a porcelain doll and could break any time, if he wasn't tender.
She stared into his dark eyes which were staring right back into her soul. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest. Never could she have imagined the night would unravel like this.
Yet here she was, writhing under Min Yoongi, feeling her cheeks heat up from his attention.
She could feel herself moistening down in her panties just by the closeness and intimacy of him. He already held so much power over her that it was terrifying.
He leaned down and started kissing her again. While she was getting all distracted by the movement of his lips all over her face, chin, lips and neck, he took the opportunity to also undress her slowly.
She didn't even realize when she was laying bare under him except her panties, while he was still fully dressed.
"Yoongi..."
"Shh... Let me have you."
And she did.
Despite every warning bell buried deep inside her she melted into him willingly.
