summary: you were the queen bee — untouchable, cruel, and stunning. everyone wanted you, but the only one you ever allowed close was jaemin: your most loyal worshipper, your obedient little dog. he wasn’t just obsessed, he was deranged — willing to bleed, kill, and fall to his knees if it meant earning your attention. but when a man dares to touch what’s yours, jaemin snaps, and what follows is blood, devotion, and a night you’ll never forget. because good boys get rewarded. and he’s been so good.
pairing: dom!reader x sub!jaemin
genre: smut, psychological thriller, yandere, dark romance, obsession, toxic relationship dynamics, power play. (MDI!!)
warnings: NSFW / explicit sexual content, dom x sub dynamic, heavy yandere themes (obsession, stalking, possessiveness), knife violence / murder (graphic), blood, gore, and physical assault, toxic & manipulative relationship, degradation, praise kink, pet play, power imbalance, public harassment (attempted assault — noncon implication), crying kink, orgasm control, overstimulation, psychological manipulation / unhinged behavior, mentions of body disposal / crime cover-up, use of slurs in a kink context, intense emotional dependency, minors DNI 🚫
wc: 4,60k
notes: hope you enjoy this one! i’m stepping a little out of my comfort zone with this genre (yandere), so please make sure to read the warnings before diving in 🔞
you were the kind of girl people didn't believe existed outside of teen movies — long legs, glossed lips, sharp eyes and sharper words. you walked through the hallways like you owned the floor beneath your heels, and in many ways, you did. teachers turned a blind eye when it was you. students stepped aside like trained dogs. the girls hated you, the boys obsessed over you, and you? you didn’t give a fuck. why would you? the world bent over backwards for you.
and when it didn’t? you had jaemin.
sweet, beautiful jaemin.
he wasn’t like the rest. he didn’t just want you — he worshipped you. he looked at you like you were hung in the sky by the hands of god himself. he didn’t care that people called you a bitch behind your back —and to your face—. to him, you were a queen, and he’d rather bleed out than let your crown tilt for even a second.
"jaemin!" you’d yell, lips pursed, eyes narrowed, annoyed at the tiniest inconvenience.
and he’d come running. like the loyal little mutt he was. obedient. desperate.
he didn’t just want to be near you. he wanted to be used by you. wanted your voice in his ears, your scent on his skin, your name carved into every part of him. there was no limit to how far he’d go for you. he wasn’t the type to offer his jacket over a puddle — no, jaemin would lay his whole fucking body across it, and smile when you stepped on him.
he loved you. too much. dangerously so.
you knew it. you saw it in the way his eyes followed you like a shadow. you felt it in the way his hands shook when you were too close. you heard it in the way he said your name — like a prayer, like a curse.
and you? you let him. you used him like your personal toy. because that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? he didn’t want your heart. he wanted your attention. your praise. your fingers. your voice. your spit.
so when he got your chemistry notes perfectly recopied and highlighted like you asked, what else could you do but reward him?
"good boy," you purred, pushing him down onto your bed, silk sheets rustling beneath him. you straddled him like a throne, nails dragging down the smooth skin of his chest. "you did exactly what i told you to. i’m almost impressed."
his lips parted, a soft whimper leaving them as he nodded, flushed and dazed. his hands were trembling where they held onto the bedsheets — not even touching you, not unless you let him. you made sure he learned that.
"say it," you demanded, rolling your hips slowly against his. "what are you?"
"y-your good boy," he breathed, eyes wide, glassy. "your toy. your—fuck—yours, y/n. only yours."
your smile was wicked. you leaned down, lips brushing his ear as your hand moved lower, over his stomach, teasing.
"that’s right. you’re nothing without me, jaemin. just a pretty face with no brain unless i tell you what to think." your fingers wrapped around him and he cried out, bucking up into your touch. "but when you’re good like this? when you behave for me? you get to feel good."
he was already close — of course he was. the pathetic way he moaned when you so much as touched him made it obvious. you barely had to try. a few strokes, a few praises, and he was sobbing for you.
"look at you," you cooed, watching his face twist in pleasure. "falling apart just because i said you did a good job. you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?"
"anything," he gasped. "please, please, y/n—"
"shhh," you silenced him with a hand to his throat, tightening just enough to make his eyes roll back. "be a good toy and cum when i say."
his body was trembling beneath you, muscles taut, trying so hard to hold back even when he was right there, teetering on the edge. he didn’t dare cum without your permission — he knew better. he’d learned that lesson already, the hard way. his mind was drowning in you, flooded with your scent, your voice, your touch. nothing else existed. he didn’t even wantanything else.
you were everything. every breath, every heartbeat, every thought. there was no “jaemin” without you.
“you’re so easy to break,” you whispered, dragging your nails down his chest just hard enough to leave little red lines. “so easy to ruin. and yet… so fucking desperate to be mine.”
“i am yours,” he choked, hips twitching. “please—i need—y/n, please.”
you tilted your head, amused. “you need? and what makes you think you’re allowed to need anything?”
his eyes widened, lips parting like he’d just been caught stealing. you leaned closer, lips brushing his jaw as you whispered, “you only get what i decide to give you. you only exist because i let you.”
“yes,” he whimpered, tears in his lashes. “yes, fuck—i’m sorry. i’m yours. only yours.”
you tightened your grip around his throat just a little more, watching the way he gasped, pupils blown wide with pleasure and pain. your hand never stopped moving on him, slow, controlled, cruel. you wanted him right there — suffering under your touch, drowning in the pleasure you dangled just out of reach.
"look at you," you murmured, licking a stripe up his neck, "crying just because i won’t let you cum. i should keep you like this all night. shaking and begging like the little mess you are."
“please, i can’t—i’ll die, y/n, i swear—”
“you’d die for me?” you asked, faux sweet, lips curling into a smirk. “mm. of course you would.”
you finally let go of his throat, just so you could slap his face — not too hard, just enough to make his head turn and leave a red mark behind. his mouth fell open with a sharp gasp, and his cock twitched in your hand.
"you liked that?" you taunted, voice low. "you liked being hit? god, you’re such a fucking freak. you’re lucky you’re pretty."
"i'm lucky because i'm yours," he sobbed, "please, please, i’ll be good, i’ll be perfect, just tell me what to do, tell me what you want—"
“cum,” you ordered, voice sharp like a whip. “now.”
and he did.
it was pathetic. the way he cried out your name like a dying man, whole body arching, twitching, lips trembling. he didn’t even care that he was crying. his hands clenched the sheets like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. he came so hard it left him breathless, eyes glassy and unfocused, completely ruined just by your voice and your touch.
you watched him crumble, satisfied.
then you leaned down and kissed his cheek softly, almost mockingly tender.
“good boy.”
he stayed like that, dazed and sticky and aching, while you got up and fixed your hair in the mirror. you didn’t even glance at him when you spoke.
“i want my nails done tomorrow. you’ll book it, pay for it, and pick me up after school.”
“yes,” he croaked, still catching his breath. “anything.”
you looked back at him with a smirk. “and don’t forget who you belong to, jaemin.”
he smiled — actually smiled — like you hadn’t just ripped him to pieces and put him back together with your bare hands.
“i could never forget. you’re the only thing i’ve ever wanted.”
you were fixing your lipstick when jaemin spoke, voice soft but shaking at the edges. “you’re really going?”
you didn’t even turn to look at him. “mm-hm. the girls want a night out. just us.”
he sat on the edge of your bed, hands clenched in his lap. you could feel his eyes on you, burning with a jealousy that curled at the edges like smoke.
“and i can’t come?”
you laughed. a pretty, cruel little sound.
“no, baby. girls only.”
he swallowed hard. “but what if—what if some guy tries something? i won’t be there to protect you.”
you finally looked at him, sauntering over with that slow, confident walk that made his heart race and his stomach twist. you cupped his face in your hand, thumb brushing across his cheek.
“i can handle a few drunk losers,” you whispered, smiling sweetly. “besides... why would i want any of them?” your smile widened into something darker, crueler. “i only have eyes for my favorite toy.”
he shivered. you kissed his forehead and walked out the door, heels clicking like gunshots on the floor.
but jaemin didn’t stay behind.
he stood outside the club with his hood pulled low over his face, his messy fringe shadowing his eyes. he watched every man that looked at you. every one of them who dared to laugh too loud, stand too close, glance too long.
his hand was clenched tight in the pocket of his hoodie, fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife he’d taken from his kitchen drawer. just in case.
he hadn’t planned to use it. really. but if someone touched you, if someone hurt you—
he wasn’t going to let that happen. not to you.
you were laughing with your friends, sipping your drink like nothing could touch you. your dress was short, your legs crossed, your lipstick perfect. every man in the room looked at you like you were a prize to win.
but they didn’t understand.
you weren’t a prize.
you were a goddess.
and jaemin? he was the sword at your altar.
your friends had gone to the bathroom in a group, and for once, you let yourself stand alone, basking in the attention like it was sunlight — until he came.
some random guy. drunk. sloppy. bold in all the wrong ways. he reeked of cheap cologne and desperation, stumbling up to you like he thought you’d be impressed.
“you’re too pretty to be alone,” he slurred, grabbing your wrist before you could step back.
you rolled your eyes and yanked your arm away. “i am alone because i want to be. get lost.”
he laughed, low and ugly, and leaned in, trying to whisper something into your ear — and that’s when his hand slid down your back, groping without shame, fingers curling possessively over your ass.
you gasped, shoving him away with your purse. “get your fucking hands off me.”
but he didn’t listen. he grabbed your waist with both hands this time, tighter, trying to pull you toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms. “come on, don’t be like that—”
panic bloomed fast in your chest.
you tried to fight — kicked, shoved, cursed — but he was too strong, too fast, too sure of himself. his grip bruised, and your voice caught in your throat when he yanked you again, harder, enough to make you stumble.
“LET GO OF ME!” you screamed.
you screamed, tried to hit the guy with your bag, but he was bigger than you — stronger — and your friends were too far, the music too loud. you twisted in his grip, eyes filling with tears, trying to scream again but the panic was too much.
and that’s when he appeared.
you didn’t see him at first — just felt the sudden weight disappear from your body as the man was ripped away from you.
a blur of black hoodie, messy bangs shadowing furious eyes, and then fists.
jaemin didn’t say a word.
he just launched at the guy, tackling him to the floor in a savage, bone-snapping crash. fists flying, jaw clenched so tight you thought he’d shatter his teeth. the music didn’t drown it out — you heard the first punch land. then the second. then the third.
blood splattered up jaemin’s arm as he kept hitting, again and again, teeth bared like an animal, like he wasn’t even human anymore — just pure rage wrapped in your name.
“don’t. fucking. touch. her.” he shouted with every blow.
your knees buckled, mascara streaking down your cheeks as you watched, frozen, trembling.
security rushed in. people were screaming.
they grabbed jaemin, yanking him off the now-unconscious man, dragging both of them out of the club. but jaemin didn’t struggle. he never took his eyes off you, even while being dragged away. his lip was split. his knuckles raw. his breathing ragged.
you followed.
you had to.
outside, the bouncers shoved them into the street and slammed the door behind them. jaemin barely felt it. his pulse was roaring in his ears, his hands shaking. the man was still coughing, still alive.
jaemin turned slowly, blood on his shirt, his hand clutching something deep in the pocket of his hoodie.
your eyes widened. “jaemin…”
he pulled it out.
a knife.
not huge. not fancy. but sharp, gleaming under the streetlight. his hands trembled as he looked at the man slumped beside him — groaning, half-conscious — and then up at you.
he saw your smeared makeup. the tear on your dress. the faint bruise on your arm where the bastard had grabbed you.
and jaemin snapped.
“he touched you,” he whispered, voice broken. “he hurt you.”
“jaemin—”
"stay back, y/n," he said, not looking at you. "you shouldn't have to see this. i’ll clean up the mess."
but it was too late.
he lunged forward, fast and deliberate. the knife sank deep. once. twice. again. the man choked on blood, coughing and struggling, but jaemin didn’t stop. he stabbed and stabbed, his face twisted in something halfway between agony and bliss.
it was fast. brutal. precise.
“don’t ever fucking touch what’s mine,” he growled.
by the time it was over, the alley was quiet. just the sound of your heartbeat thudding in your ears, and jaemin panting, covered in blood, shaking like he’d come down from a high.
you were standing there, clutching your wrist, mascara smudged from your tears. when jaemin looked at you, saw your fear, something in him snapped.
his eyes were wild, feral, but when they landed on you… they softened.
“he hurt you. i told you i’d protect you.” you stared at him, trembling.
he took a step forward, still holding the knife. “you’re mine, y/n. no one gets to put their hands on you. no one.”
he dropped the weapon like it burned him, then reached for you — gently, reverently, like you were glass.
"you're safe now," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face with bloodied fingers. "i'll always protect you, no matter what it takes."
your breath was still uneven, chest rising and falling as you stared at him — at the blood dripping from his fingers, the wild look in his eyes, the lifeless body on the ground. the alley smelled like metal and sweat and something sickly sweet, like roses blooming in rot.
and yet…
you weren’t afraid of him.
you should’ve been. anyone else would’ve run. screamed. called the cops.
but not you.
because this was jaemin. your jaemin.
your precious, broken little pet who would’ve let himself burn alive if you asked.
he looked up at you, hands shaking. “i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i didn’t mean to—i just couldn’t let him hurt you, i couldn’t—”
you walked up to him slowly, heels clicking on the pavement, and cupped his bloody face in your hand.
“shhh,” you murmured. “don’t apologize.”
his eyes widened, lips trembling. “you’re not... mad?”
you tilted your head, smiling. “mad? baby, you just killed for me.”
he blinked, stunned silent.
you leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “do you have any idea how fucking hot that is?”
he let out a shaky breath — half a gasp, half a whimper — as you licked the blood off his cheek. his knees buckled. he almost collapsed right there in the alley.
“you’re mine,” you whispered, grabbing him by the jaw. “you don’t belong to the law. you don’t belong to this world. you belong to me. and when someone touches what’s mine…”
you looked down at the body, then back at him.
“…you did exactly what you were supposed to do.”
he moaned — actually moaned — like your words were slicing through him deeper than the knife ever could. his cock was already hard, twitching in his pants, pressed tight against the fabric of his jeans. he was still trembling, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he was in some kind of trance.
“you want your reward now, don’t you?” you teased, nails dragging lightly down his chest.
“please,” he begged. “please, y/n, i—i need—”
“on your knees.”
he dropped instantly.
there, in the alley, with blood on his hands and the weight of his sin still fresh on his skin — he knelt before you like a disciple.
you lifted your dress just enough to expose your thighs, watching the way his eyes locked onto you like he was starving.
“you were so brave, baby,” you purred, running your fingers through his messy hair. “my perfect little killer. my good boy.”
he let out a broken, wrecked sound, mouth already open, tongue out, begging for a taste of you like it was communion.
and you gave it to him.
you tugged him closer by the hair, guiding his face between your thighs, his blood-stained lips kissing the inside of your skin like he was worshipping an altar. he licked you like a man possessed — sloppy, desperate, moaning against your heat as you rocked your hips into his mouth.
“this is what you get,” you hissed, thighs tightening around his head. “for being such a perfect monster.”
he nodded as best he could, unable to stop himself from rutting against nothing, grinding like a dog in heat. he didn’t care. he didn’t need to cum. he just needed to serve.
you came on his tongue, eyes locked on his as you moaned his name, and it hit him harder than anything else ever could. his whole body shook.
when you finally pulled back, your inner thighs glistening with spit and slick and smeared red, you looked down at him with that same icy, dangerous smirk.
“clean up the mess, baby.”
he licked his lips, chin stained, and nodded.
“yes, mistress.”
you didn’t ask what he did with the body.
you didn’t need to.
he came back to you hours later, hands scrubbed raw, face pale, blood washed off but eyes still wild. he knocked on your window, not your front door. of course he did. like a stray cat, dirty and loyal, hoping you’d let him in again.
and you did.
you always did.
“get in,” you said, voice low, silk-soft. “did you clean up?”
he nodded.
“did you leave anything behind?”
“no. not a trace.”
you leaned in close, your perfume wrapping around him like smoke. “good boy.”
he whimpered, eyes rolling back slightly like those two words alone made him dizzy. your praise was his drug — one taste, and he’d bleed himself dry for another.
you pulled him inside, sat him on your bed like he was fragile, precious, something to be handled with care. and then you straddled his lap, your fingers curling around the back of his neck as your lips brushed his ear.
“tell me,” you whispered. “what did you do with him?”
“i dragged him to the back lot,” jaemin muttered, voice thick with adrenaline and need. “there’s a place behind the dumpsters where no one ever goes. used my jacket to wipe the blood. took the knife apart and buried the pieces. burned the clothes. no cameras. no witnesses.”
you smiled.
“look at you,” you purred. “you’d make such a good little hitman. maybe that’s what i’ll use you for next.”
he whined — actually whined — at the idea. “i’ll do anything, y/n. anything. i just want to be yours. please. let me stay yours.”
you grabbed his jaw, hard enough to make him shut up, and stared into his eyes like you could see his soul.
“you’ll always be mine. but only as long as you behave.”
he nodded frantically, breath coming out fast.
two days later, the police showed up at school.
the guy’s friends had reported him missing. the alley was clean, but the club had cameras outside. no clear footage, just shadows and outlines. not enough to make arrests, but enough to raise eyebrows.
you were in the office when they called you in for questioning. not as a suspect. just someone who might’ve seen something. you played it perfectly — innocent, sweet, a little shaken up but not too much.
“i left early,” you said, blinking slowly at the officer. “i wasn’t feeling well. my friends stayed longer. i didn’t see anything weird.”
they let you go. of course they did.
but jaemin?
you found him in the back of the library, curled in on himself, hoodie up, chewing on the skin of his thumb until it bled.
“they’re gonna find out,” he whispered when you sat down beside him. “they’re gonna take me away. i can’t leave you. i can’t—”
“look at me.”
he did. instantly.
“you’re not going anywhere,” you said, voice firm. “you’re mine. and i protect what’s mine.”
he stared at you like you hung the stars.
you leaned in, lips ghosting over his. “tonight. my place. you’re staying the night. i want to play with my toy.”
that night, he arrived exactly on time. showered, dressed in black like always. your parents weren’t home — they rarely were. and your bedroom? your bedroom was your temple. silk sheets. soft lighting. perfume heavy in the air. and in the center of it all, you — wearing his favorite dress, the one that made him want to kneel the second he saw it.
“strip,” you ordered the moment he stepped inside.
he obeyed.
you didn’t even touch him right away. you just circled him like a predator, watching the way his cock twitched with every step, how his breath hitched whenever you got too close.
“you really killed someone for me,” you whispered, dragging a fingernail down his chest. “doesn’t that make you mine forever?”
“yes,” he gasped. “please—claim me. mark me. ruin me.”
“mm,” you smirked. “as you wish.”
you pushed him back on the bed, pulled a collar from your nightstand — red leather, gold buckle, a tag that read “property of y/n.”
his eyes rolled back as you strapped it around his neck.
“now you’re really mine.”
he came untouched.
and you laughed — a dark, delighted sound — as you leaned down to kiss his trembling lips.
the collar clicked into place with a soft metallic snap, and something in jaemin broke.
his chest rose and fell rapidly, throat bobbing as he tried to catch his breath. the red leather sat snug against his skin, and the little gold tag with property of y/n glinted under the warm light of your bedroom.
you sat back on your heels and smiled at the sight of him: flushed, leaking, eyes glassy, lips parted like he couldn’t believe this was real. your pretty killer boy, naked and on his knees at the foot of your bed, dick already hard and dripping against his stomach just from the feeling of belonging to you.
“how does it feel?” you asked softly, tilting your head as you ran your fingers through his hair.
he shuddered. “i… i can’t—” he whimpered, dropping his head. “it’s everything. i feel like—like i’m not even human anymore. just… yours.”
you tugged his hair hard enough to make him gasp and tilt his head back to look at you. “that’s exactly what you are, jaemin. not a person. not a man. just a thing i use.”
his cock twitched violently, and a low, desperate moan escaped his throat.
you shoved him backward onto the mattress with one hand, straddling his hips with slow, commanding ease. he didn’t dare move — not unless you told him to. he just looked up at you like you were holy, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“i’ve been thinking about this since the alley,” you murmured, dragging your nails down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake. “you looked so hot covered in blood. all that violence. all that loyalty.”
he moaned under his breath, trying to buck his hips, but you slapped his thigh — hard — and he immediately stilled, lips wobbling.
“ah-ah,” you tsked. “bad dogs don’t get rewards.”
“i’m sorry,” he breathed. “please, mistress, please—i’ll be good, i’ll be perfect, just… please use me.”
you leaned down until your lips brushed his, but you didn’t kiss him. not yet. you wanted him starving.
“you are perfect,” you whispered. “my perfect little psycho.”
and then you sank down on him.
he screamed.
his back arched off the bed, hands flying to your thighs but freezing midair like he didn’t dare touch you without permission. his whole body shook as you took every inch of him, tight and slow, grinding down until you were seated fully on his cock.
“fuck,” you groaned, tossing your hair back. “you’re so hard for me. so full. you’re gonna make me cum just from the way you’re twitching inside me, baby.”
jaemin sobbed.
his eyes rolled back, tears already slipping down his cheeks from how overwhelming it was — the stretch, the heat, the pleasure, the weight of your power over him. he’d killed for you. he’d die for you. but this?
this was worse. this was better. this was fucking heaven.
you started to move — slow, deliberate rolls of your hips that made him whimper with every pass. his mouth dropped open, tongue lolling slightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you leaned forward to spit right on it.
he swallowed it like it was gold.
“filthy fucking dog,” you whispered, voice dark and breathless. “you like when i degrade you, don’t you?”
“yes,” he gasped. “i’m yours — your dog, your toy, your killer — please, please don’t stop—”
you slapped him across the face, just once. sharp enough to make him reel, not enough to hurt.
“shut the fuck up.”
he moaned like he came from that alone.
you rode him harder then — fast, punishing, loud. the bed creaked, the sound of skin against skin filled the room, and jaemin was babbling nonsense now: “so good, so tight, i love you, i’d kill again, i’d do anything, please don’t ever leave me, please—”
you leaned in close and kissed him — hard — your teeth catching his bottom lip as you pulled away just enough to whisper against his mouth:
“if the cops ever come for us, you’re taking the fall.”
“yes,” he gasped. “yes, of course, i’ll take it all, i’ll protect you—”
“and if i want you to kill again?”
“just give me a name.”
you came just from that.
your nails dug into his shoulders, your head falling back as your orgasm crashed through you, but you didn’t stop. you used him, over and over, until you were soaked and shaking, until he was the one crying — tears and drool on his face, cock aching and untouched because he knew he couldn’t cum unless you let him.
“please,” he sobbed, trembling under you. “please let me cum, please—i need it, need you—”
you cupped his cheeks and leaned in close, your voice low and venom-sweet.
“cum for me, you sick little freak.”
he screamed your name as he came, hard and violent, his whole body convulsing beneath you.
and as he lay there, twitching, ruined, panting like an animal at your feet…
