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amoc94 · 5 days ago

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The Long Game

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: sugar daddy au, yandere joonie, angst

summary: namjoon was never supposed to fall in love. the arrangement was simple. money for time, desire for indulgence, no strings, no expectations. he was supposed to be your provider, your safety net, the man you called when you wanted something but never needed anyone. but somewhere between the swipe of his black card and the way you sigh his name in the dark, he lost control.

warnings: smut, silent but dangerous namjoon, soft? dom namjoon, yandere joonie 😏, BDE if you squint, namjoon yeaaarrrnnnsss (maybe a bit too much), sugar baby is an independent brat, matcha 🍵 girls unite! dick riding, unprotected sex (be safe), slight choking w/ both hands, mentions of fingers in slippery places, brief boob play, is it love or lust? 🤨

word count: 2,853

a message from our sponsors 👩🏽 : i’ve been listening to this song on repeat for the last two days, the audhd stimming is in full effect (don’t judge i’ve been stressed). after looking up the english translation of the lyrics my brain cooked this up.

hope you enjoy! 😊🤍

He grips the steering wheel, thumb idly smoothing over the worn leather as the glow of his phone screen flickers across his face.

The engine hums low, steady—a stark contrast to the rhythm pulsing from the club’s entrance, where bodies move in drunken chaos under strobing lights. He doesn’t need to be inside to feel it; the bass thrums against his ribs, syncing with his heartbeat, with the restless ache lodged deep in his chest.

But he’s not looking at the club.

He’s looking at you.

Or rather, your Instagram story. Watching it for the millionth time, like a man trying to memorize scripture.

First, a picture of your morning matcha, condensation beading the glass in the early sunlight. Then a snapshot of your notes spread across the library table, neat handwriting and highlighted passages that he wonders if you’ll even remember after tonight.

And then, the last clip—the one that’s been carving through him like a slow, dull blade—your body moving in the dim, red light of the club. The glow clings to you like a brand, painting you in sin, in temptation meant only for him. But it’s not just you in the frame.

A hand reaches for you.

Namjoon’s grip tightens around his phone, the plastic casing groaning under the pressure.

The camera cuts away before he can see if you let them.

He watches it again. And again. As if, on the hundredth replay, the screen might crack open and reveal the answer. As if, by sheer will alone, he could rewrite the moment—erase that hand, pull you back, remind you who you belong to.

You wouldn’t.

You know better…right?

It’s not the first time you’ve done this. Offered him pieces of you, but never the whole thing.

Let him pay your tuition, your rent, your weekend trips to the mall—but never let him own you. Never let him believe, even for a second, that he’s anything more than what you need him to be.

And yet—

He swipes away from your story and pulls up your messages instead.

Your last texts are sloppy, riddled with typos.

[12:45 AM] com3 pick me up

[12:47 AM] pls bby

[12:50 AM] need u 💋

His fingers tighten around the phone.

And then, as if summoned, the car door jerks open, and you spill inside in a mess of laughter and heat, your perfume curling into the air like a spell. The club’s neon lights cast fleeting shadows across your skin, your dress rumpled from dancing, your lips glossy with whatever sin you’ve been indulging in tonight.

You land in his lap without hesitation, your arms winding around his neck, mouth brushing against his jaw.

“Hi, baby,” you murmur, the words warm and syrupy, the kind that drip down slow and sweet.

He exhales, hands instinctively catching your waist. “You’re drunk.”

You hum, nuzzling against his throat. “Mmm. And you’re here.”

Like I always am, he doesn’t say.

Instead, he turns his head, and then your lips find his, and there’s nothing soft or hesitant about the way you kiss him. It’s urgent, messy, tongue teasing against his own, hands slipping into his hair, pulling him deeper, like you’re daring him to lose control.

And maybe it’s the way you taste—vodka and citrus and something distinctly you—or maybe it’s the way you sigh when his hands slide up your thighs, but something inside him snaps.

He grips your hips, pulls you closer, lets the need that’s been simmering in his chest take over.

Your moan is swallowed by the kiss as his fingers drag the hem of your dress up, palms mapping the bare skin beneath. The console digs into his side, but he doesn’t care. Not when you’re rocking against him, not when your body is hot and pliant and his.

“Joon,” you whine against his lips, nails biting into his shoulders. “Please.”

He exhales sharply, his restraint fraying by the second. “What do you want, baby?”

“You,” you breathe, rolling your hips again, dragging a groan from his throat. “Need you to fuck me.”

Fuck.

There’s no hesitation after that.

The next few moments blur into heat and desperation—clothes yanked, fabric bunched, fingers fumbling against buttons and zippers in the tight space of the front seat.

The center console digs into Namjoon’s side as he shifts, dragging you closer, his hands impatient, greedy. Your dress rides up as you straddle his lap, the silky material pooling at your hips, but there’s no room to move freely—your knee knocks into the gear shift, and you gasp, laughing breathlessly against his mouth.

“Oops,” you mutter, adjusting your position.

He exhales a shaky breath, his hands sliding down your thighs, gripping tight. “You okay?”

You nod, but your eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with want.

His fingers slide between your legs, finding you bare and slick.

His breath hitches.

He should take his time.

Should make you beg for it.

But you’re shifting against him, rolling your hips, chasing friction, and he’s never been good at denying you.

Your hands tug at his belt, impatient, and he groans when your fingers brush against him, warm even through the fabric.

The car is stifling now, the windows beginning to fog. There’s no space, no ease—he’s too big for this, in more ways than one.

And yet, none of it matters.

Because then his pants are pushed just far enough down, and when he finally pushes inside, the stretch of your pussy desperately trying to accommodate his cock pulls a gasp from your lips. Your nails digging into his shoulders.

He stills, just for a second, reveling in the way you clench around him, the way your breath stutters against his neck.

His fingers splay against your lower back, holding you there, savoring the moment, the unbearable tightness, the way your nails drag along his skin like you’re trying to anchor yourself.

Outside, the bass from the club pulses, muffled and distant, a world away.

Inside the car, it’s just you and him, tangled in sweat and need, locked in a space too small for what he feels for you.

And then he moves.

The car rocks with each slow, deliberate roll of your hips, the leather seat creaking beneath you as you sink onto his cock.

Your palms press against his chest for leverage, nails biting into his skin through his half unbuttoned shirt. Your dress is bunched up around your waist, wrinkles forming in the fabric, forgotten in the haze of lust. He watches, enraptured, as you take him—your hips undulating, your breath coming in soft, broken pants.

Namjoon groans, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you even though you don’t need it. You already know how to ruin him. You already know how to take what you want.

“You love this, don’t you?”

His fingers press into the tender globes of your ass, hard enough to leave bruises. “Riding me like this. Making a mess all over my cock.”

You whimper in response, throwing your head back, your movements faltering for just a second as his words sink in. But he won’t let you slow down—not when you feel this good, not when his sanity is hanging by a thread. He plants his feet firmly on the floor of the car, thrusting up into you, meeting each roll of your hips with deep, punishing strokes.

The air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the windows hazy from your heat. Every slick, obscene sound of your bodies colliding fills the car, blending with the desperate moans you don’t bother hiding.

Namjoon leans in, his lips dragging along the column of your throat before his teeth scrape over your pulse point. “No one else gets to have you like this,” he pants, his hand slipping up your spine before wrapping delicately around your throat. “Tell me.”

You shudder, your own hand covering his wrist, not pushing him away, just holding on.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

You gasp as he thrusts up sharply, hitting that spot inside you that makes your whole body tense. A shiver runs through you, your walls tightening around him, and for a moment, you don’t answer.

Namjoon tenses.

But then—

“Only you,” you cry, lips brushing against his, teasing, intoxicating.

A growl rumbles low in his throat. His grip on your waist tightens, his pace turning almost brutal as he fucks into you with renewed purpose, as if he can carve those words into your skin, make them permanent.

His other hand moves.

Despite the fervor thundering in his blood, he doesn’t move with haste. Slowly, delicately, his fingers curl around your throat, the grip light at first, a silent question.

You shudder, your own hand coming up to hold his wrist. Not to push him away—just to feel him.

Namjoon presses his lips against your ear, his voice dark, smooth.

“Did anyone else touch you tonight?”

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound teasing, indulgent. “Mmm. Jealous, daddy?”

His fingers tighten slightly, just enough to make your pulse flutter beneath his palm. His hips roll up harder, sharper, dragging a moan from your lips.

“Answer me.”

You shift against him, your nails biting into his forearm. He knows you’re playing with him, knows you like the way he’s teetering on the edge of control.

And then you lean in, your lips grazing his jaw.

“No. No one else,” you murmur, voice dripping with something almost affectionate. “Just you.”

Something inside Namjoon uncoils, and then unleashes.

He fucks you harder after that, driven by something deeper, something primal. He wants to believe you. Needs to. Because if you’re lying, if anyone else touched what belongs to him—

No.

You’re his.

Whether you realize it yet or not.

His hand slides up, fingers curling around your jaw, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. The dim light from the dashboard casts shadows over his face, sharpening the cut of his cheekbones, the hunger in his half lidded eyes. His thumb brushes along your parted lips before pressing lightly against your chin.

“Look at you,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice thick, passionate in a way that makes something tighten in his chest. “You don’t even realize how good you feel, do you?”

Your cunt clenches around him in response, and his breath hisses through his teeth. Fuck. Every squeeze, every slick drag of your walls around him, every desperate roll of your hips—it’s unraveling him by the second.

“That’s it,” he mutters, his free hand slipping between your bodies, fingertips slipping over the sensitive bundle of nerves that has you jolting in his lap. His rhythm never falters, precise and measured, even as his control frays at the edges.

It’s too much—you’re trembling against him, your hands grip at his shoulders, your moans spilling into the humid air between you. He leans in, nipping at the hinge of your jaw, his lips dragging down to the pulse fluttering wildly in your throat.

“Go on, princess,” he breathes, his voice dark and coaxing, his fingers pressing just right. “Let me feel you.”

His head dips lower, his breath hot against the thin fabric barely covering your breasts.

The dress barely conceals anything, sheer in the right places, sinful in the wrong ones. The way the fabric clings to your body is almost obscene, the heavy swell of your breasts teasingly outlined, your nipples straining against the delicate material.

You're not wearing anything underneath.

The realization should infuriate him. Should make his blood boil at the thought of other men looking at you, at their hungry gazes dragging over skin that belongs to him.

But it doesn't.

It only makes him harder.

Because he knows—no matter how many of them watch, no matter how many of them ache to touch, you'll never let them.

They'll never have what he has. Never feel your pussy wrapped around them, never hear the breathless way you moan when you cum.

You're cruel without even trying, dangling temptation in front of them, letting them hope for something they'll never taste.

And Namjoon?

He gets off on it.

Because at the end of the night, you always come back to him.

He groans, low and desperate, before his mouth finds a stiff nipple through the fabric, his tongue dragging slow, deliberate circles around the pert peak. His teeth grazing over it with just enough pressure to make you clench around him, your walls pulsing tight around his cock.

"Ah, J-Joon." you croon.

The reaction pulls a sharp hiss from him, his fingers digging into your waist. But you don’t shy away. Instead, you arch into him, offering more, pressing your body closer like you want to drown him in you.

Greedy. Needy.

Nasty for everything he’s willing to give you.

But it happens all too fast for his liking.

The heat, the desperation, the way your body molds against his—it’s intoxicating, but fleeting. A moment never lasts long enough with you. He barely has time to commit it to memory before it’s slipping through his fingers like sand.

And it’s times like this that he wants to steal you away. Take you somewhere far from this world that refuses to let him have you. Lock you up in a tower only he has the key to, where no one else can touch you, see you, even breathe the same air as you.

There, he’d worship you the way you deserve—slowly, endlessly, until you finally understand what he’s known from the start.

Your body trembles as you cum, your moans broken, hands clutching at him, grounding yourself in him. And when he follows, thick warm cum spilling into you with a wrecked moan of your name, his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, keeping you there.

He’s not ready to let go.

But you are.

You shift, skin still damp, and he can already feel you slipping away, your presence untangling from his like silk slipping through his fingers.

And then—

“I should go back inside,” you say, your voice light, easy—casual, even. Like you didn’t just let him claim you in the tight confines of his car. Like your body wasn’t still trembling from the way he’d touched you, possessed you. As if this was nothing more than a pit stop before you returned to your night of reckless freedom.

He catches your wrist before you can move, his grip firm, a quiet warning in the way he holds you.

“Didn’t you want me to pick you up?” His words are controlled, careful.

You blink at him, then laugh softly, a sound that scratches against his chest. “I changed my mind.”

His heart stutters, but his expression remains neutral. His fingers loosen, and yet, the urge to hold you tighter—to make you stay, to remind you who you belong to—burns in the back of his throat.

He lets go. He has to.

Because if he doesn’t, if he lets his fingers tighten just a fraction more, he’ll ruin everything. You’ll see it—the madness beneath his calm. The desire that goes far beyond wanting you. You’ll notice the way his control is slipping. And then you’ll pull away.

He can’t have that.

So he watches.

Watches as you fix your dress, smoothing out the fabric like you’re erasing the memory of him, the marks he left on your body, your soul. Watches as you run a hand through your hair, indifferent to the way it still falls in messy waves from his hands, the way your breath is still heavy with the scent of him.

You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, slow and lazy, like you’re so certain none of this means anything.

Like you don’t know what you’re doing to him. Like you don’t realize that the heat between you isn’t just a spark—it’s a wildfire.

“If you want to stay out of trouble,” he says, his voice low, a warning in its calm. “Behave yourself.”

You laugh again, a soft, mocking sound that makes his chest tighten. And then—you leave. Slip out of his car, out of his hands, out of his world and back into theirs.

Back into the flashing lights and pulsing bass, back into the careless crowd that doesn’t deserve you. They don’t see you the way he does. They’ll never understand you. Not like he does.

And just like that, he’s left in the stillness, the echo of your absence filling the empty space around him. He doesn’t chase after you.

Namjoon grips the steering wheel, knuckles white. His jaw clenches. His heartbeat thrums beneath his skin, a slow, deliberate beat, keeping time with the truth he’s always known.

He has no one to blame but himself.

He’s the one who broke the rules. Who let his heart twist into something unmanageable. Who made the mistake of loving you.

But he doesn’t regret it.

Because love—real love—isn’t about caging or forcing. It’s about playing the long game. About devotion. About waiting in the shadows, watching, protecting.

And he has all the time in the world.

two | masterlist

447 notes · View notes

amoc94 · 5 days ago

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{ before you continue }

media literacy is a MUST on this page (look it up 🙃)

be sure to check the warnings before reading

my writing covers almost every trope, but i’m a romance girl..if the characters aren’t boning at least once then why are we reading it?

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my writing style is mainly written in the second person pov (reader is the main character), with my secondary protagonist written in the third person pov. if you don’t like it, have a beautiful day. thank you so much for stopping by

this is a SAFE space for all 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🇦🇫

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lastly, at this time i’m not taking requests (i put enough pressure on myself as is)

if you got this far, pat yourself on the back for that attention span. remember, it’s just words on a page, so enjoy ✨

the long game (m)

↳ sugar daddy au | yandere | drabbles | in progress

namjoon was never supposed to fall in love. the arrangement was simple. money for time, desire for indulgence, no strings, no expectations. he was supposed to be your provider, your safety net, the man you called when you wanted something but never needed anyone. but somewhere between the swipe of his black card and the way you sigh his name in the dark, he lost control.

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↳ idol au | established relationship | pfp | drabble | complete

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your voice. your rules. your power.

he remembers everything. every command. every ache. every way he was made to perform for you. and tonight, after all this time, he finally gets to please you again.

397 notes · View notes

amoc94 · 5 days ago

Text

The Play | Yandere Taehyung x Reader

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only.

I do not give permission for my work to be re-posted anywhere, even with credit. But please re-blog, comment, and interact. Thank you!

Pairing: Yandere Taehyung x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,292

Author’s Note:

This is my very first Taehyung two-shot and I had so much fun writing it — I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

I’m not Korean, and I’ve done my best to research the names, cultural references, and language used in this story. If I’ve made any mistakes, I sincerely apologize and am open to kind corrections.

Thank you so much for reading. 💜

Reblogs, comments, and feedback are deeply appreciated!

Summary:

End of the 1800s. A beautiful day meant for vows, for futures, for dreams—destroyed in a single breath. You were meant to be a bride. But instead of walking into forever, you stepped into a stage already set, every line rehearsed, every fall of the curtain planned. And the man behind it all? The one who calls himself your savior.

Warnings:

Dark themes, obsession, manipulation, yandere behavior, noncon/forced kissing and touching, psychological horror, emotional coercion, murder, strangulation, body horror, implied forced pregnancy, unsettling power imbalance, gaslighting, 18+ only.

Act One – Until the Curtains Fall

Y/N POV

Tears streamed down my cheeks, each drop a reflection of my shattered hopes as I gazed at what was supposed to be the most beautiful day of my life, now lying in ruins like shattered glass scattered across the floor.

My bridal bouquet, once a symbol of joy and hope, lay discarded beside me, the pristine white roses now crushed and wilted, echoing the breaking of my dreams.

My father’s furious outburst pierced the air, while my mother’s silent tears fell like raindrops, each one intensifying the reality of this moment.

“How can he do this to my daughter? How could he possibly run away from his own wedding?” My father’s anguished scream sliced through the haze of disbelief surrounding me, jolting me into the harsh reality of the situation.

With trembling legs, I stood up and took a hesitant step toward him, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. I placed my trembling hand on his shoulder, desperate to offer comfort, even as I felt the weight of despair settling in.

He turned to me, his grasp tightening around my hand, his eyes filled with helplessness. “What will your future hold now?” he cried, his voice thick with grief and confusion.

“No one will care about the truth; they will all cast blame on you. How can I protect you from their judgment and the questions of prying eyes?"

For the first time in my 19 years, I witnessed my father crumble, tears spilling down his weathered cheeks. “Kyung-jae?”

A voice called out from the dimly lit doorway, cutting through the heavy silence. When my father lifted his gaze, the vulnerability in his eyes morphed into a storm of fury.

He released my hand as if it were a lifeline slipping away, and charged towards the man standing awkwardly at the entrance. “Where is he? Where is your cowardly son?” My father's voice thundered through the room, anguish steeped in every syllable.

The man who should have been my father-in-law, once a figure of pride in our village, now stood with his head bent low, shame washing over him. “I am deeply sorry, Kyung-jae. I never imagined my son would do such a thing. Please, forgive me and my family?”

A humorless laugh erupted from my father, echoing painfully in the tense air. “Do you see my little girl?” He spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.

“Today should have been one of the happiest moments of her life, and your son has shattered it! He was the one who begged for her hand, and your apologies won't protect her or her future from this heartbreak.”

The man stood there, stricken and defeated, his gaze fixed on the floor as if it held the answers to his son’s treachery.

Even though my rational mind knew he bore no responsibility for his son’s cowardice, I felt rooted to the ground, paralyzed by the weight of his son's betrayal and heartbreak.

I stood frozen in place, an immovable weight enveloping my body, while my mind drifted in a thick haze. Slowly, the blend of anxious voices that filled the room began to fade into a distant murmur, and the numbness that gripped my mind crept into my other senses, dulling my perception of the world around me.

“Excuse me for my late arrival!” A voice broke through the fog, sharp and clear. “As soon as I learned of the unfortunate events here, I rushed over. Ahjussi, please try to calm yourself. I know this won’t change anything, but your health is paramount.”

I lifted my gaze, focusing through the mental fog, and saw the son of one of the oldest, wealthiest families in our village. With quiet authority, he helped my father into a nearby chair, a gentle but firm touch as he guided him. Then, he turned to the other man in the room, his expression a mixture of concern and determination.

“Ahjussi Choi, have you found Dae-hyun? Do any of his friends have any idea where he might be?” Ahjussi Choi bowed slightly in deference before answering, his voice trembling with barely concealed frustration.

“Kim-nim, we have searched everywhere, but my cowardly son is nowhere to be found. I have no idea where he is.” His steps toward my father were cautious, each one laced with uncertainty as the weight of the situation pressed heavily upon us all.

“Kyung-jae, you don’t have to worry,” he said, his tone steady but warm. “Y/N is like a daughter to me, and I promise to protect her at all costs. She will be well taken care of.” His gaze drifted around the room, finally landing on me, intense and unwavering.

"Don't you dare, Choi! You have no right..." My father's voice trembled with emotion, cracking under the weight of his words, before he succumbed to a violent coughing fit. Kim Taehyung quickly moved to his side, offering a glass of water, while my father slumped back in his seat, visibly drained. I rushed over, my heart racing.

“Appa!” I knelt beside him, my hands shaking slightly as I took the glass from Kim-nim's caring grasp. I carefully lifted it to my father's lips, urging him to drink.

He took slow, deliberate sips, each one seemingly a small victory against the fatigue that weighed him down. As he set the glass aside, his eyes filled with sorrow.

“My daughter, what will become of your future? I have failed you as a father... Your Appa has failed you.” He grasped my hands in his rough, calloused ones, tears spilling down his weathered cheeks.

“Appa, please don’t cry. You are the best father in the entire world. We will face this together, and I promise you, everything will be fine.” Just then, a mocking laugh sliced through the tension in the room.

The ominous figure of my step-aunt entered, her presence filling the space with a chilling tension, and I could feel the dread creeping back into my heart.

“Kyung-jae, just look at the mess that arises when you grant your daughter such unrestrained freedom.” The woman spat, her voice thick with disdain. “She has utterly destroyed our family name, and soon, the entire village will be laughing behind our backs.”

With deliberate steps, she approached us, supported by her gnarled walking stick, each creak of the wood echoing the weight of her words.

“We still have an opportunity to remedy this situation. Han Jun-su is eager to marry your daughter. This could be the perfect chance to rid ourselves of this scandal.”

She insisted, her words slick with the promise of resolution, but tinged with ulterior motives. My mother’s breath caught in her throat, and for the first time during this entire ordeal, her voice broke through the tension.

“Han Jun-su is older than my husband, your own brother! How can you even suggest such a thing? My daughter will not become the prey of that predator!”

Her voice quaked with the fierce protectiveness of a mother, fueled by righteous anger. Appa was caught in a whirlwind of disbelief.

His eyes widened in shock as he absorbed the repugnant suggestion from the woman before him, his heart racing as he prepared to unleash his pent-up outrage.

But before he could react, Kim Taehyung's voice cut through the air from the right, a calm yet steely warning.

“Ajumma, while this may be a private matter for your family, I advise you to carefully choose your words in my presence.” I glanced at him; his eyes were narrowed, a storm brewing within them, yet he maintained his composure as he turned back to my father, standing resolutely against the confrontation.

“Ahjussi, if you don’t mind, I would like to marry your daughter.” His words hung in the air like a heavy fog, and as I processed them, my wide eyes scanned his expression, searching for any flicker of emotion, but found none.

He shifted his gaze toward me and slowly bent down to my level, as I remained crouched on the floor, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders.

“Y/N?” He said, his voice steady but tinged with a gravity that made my heart ache.

“I know this isn’t the future you imagined. But if you agree, your family will remain safe. This world is cruel, and justice rarely favors the innocent. Society is quick to point fingers, especially at those who don’t deserve it. I won’t pretend to approve of how things have unfolded, but change is slow and often comes at a price. In the end, the choice is yours. Just know that I will respect whatever decision you make.”

As I stood up, my mind felt like a foggy landscape devoid of clarity, while my heart sank under the immense burden of the moment.

I cast a glance at my mother, her face twisted in worry, and my younger sister, who looked lost and frightened. In that instant, a painful realization settled within me; I knew what my answer would be.

I turned back to my father. “Y/N, your appa will take care of everything. You don’t have to agree to this.” He urged, his eyes filled with an unwavering determination to protect me.

I attempted to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered at the edges as tears threatened to spill from my eyes, reflecting my inner turmoil.

“I know, Appa. I know.” With a heavy heart, I took a deep breath and walked towards Kim Taehyung, each step feeling both burdensome and inevitable. Standing before him, I drew on every ounce of courage I had left. “Kim-nim, I agree to marry you.”

***

The marriage rituals unfolded in a thick haze, a surreal blur where my body moved through the traditions, but my mind drifted far beyond the moment. Kim-nim, no, he was my husband now, insisted that I call him Taehyung from this day forward, a name that felt both foreign and yet strangely intimate.

Following the simplicity of our vows, a grand carriage awaited us, its polished wood gleaming under the soft, warm sunlight.

One of his servants approached, lifting my trunk with practiced ease and loading it into the carriage, a quiet reminder of the life I was leaving behind.

As I prepared to depart, my heart ached at the sight of my mother and sister enveloping me in tight, tearful hugs, their love wrapping around me like a warm blanket. My father stood at the carriage door, his expression a mixture of pride and sorrow.

When the moment came to leave, I turned toward my father, wrapping my arms around him tightly as silent tears spilled down my cheeks. “Don’t cry, my daughter.” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“If you don’t stop now, your old man will surely start crying too, and I’d prefer the village to remember me as the strong man I am.”

His attempt to lighten the mood brought a chuckle from my lips, momentarily brightening the heaviness that filled the air as I reluctantly let him go.

Taehyung-ssi stepped forward, taking my hand gently but firmly. He turned to my father, his gaze steady and sincere.

“Ahjussi, Y/N is now my wife. I promise to provide her with everything she needs. She will want for nothing, and I assure you, I will never let her go.”

There was a weight to his words that startled me; my eyes widened in surprise, searching for any trace of insincerity, any sign that this moment was not as it seemed.

Yet, everything around us appeared perfectly ordinary, as if the world itself conspired to conceal the brewing storm of emotions within me.

He gently turned me around, guiding me inside, and I felt an overwhelming heaviness settle in my body, exhaustion gripping me like a thick blanket. Taehyung-ssi bid farewell to my family, his voice calm and reassuring, his demeanor radiating warmth.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as he entered the confines of the looming carriage, his presence a steadying force. As we stood before the monumental doors of his grand home, I could feel my heart racing with both apprehension and curiosity.

When the doors swung open, Taehyung's mother emerged like a vision of grace, her aura commanding immediate respect. Taehyung stepped slightly in front of me, almost as if to shield me from the intensity of her gaze.

“Taehyung, welcome back.” She said, her voice resonating with a blend of warmth and a touch of formality. “I would have been ecstatic to witness my son’s wedding in person, but even so, my son is now wed. Now, step aside and let me see my daughter-in-law.”

With a gentle push, she nudged him to the side, a gesture steeped in both authority and affection. I lowered my gaze, feeling the weight of her expectation as she gracefully approached me.

“She is beautiful.” She remarked, her eyes assessing me with a mixture of scrutiny and appreciation. “But she must learn our ways.” Her voice softened slightly as she asked.

“Your name is Y/N?” I nodded, my cheeks warming under her scrutiny, unable to meet her understanding gaze.

With a tender yet firm grasp, she lifted my chin, compelling me to look up. When our eyes finally met, I was struck by the depth of emotion swirling in her expression—pride danced alongside a flicker of sadness, a poignant reminder of the complexities of family and tradition.

For a fleeting moment, I thought she might say something further, but instead, she abruptly released her grip and turned her attention back to her son.

“As your wife, she has certain duties to fulfill. She is not merely the daughter of a humble craftsman; she also carries the weight of being a daughter-in-law of the esteemed Kim family. I will arrange for a few handmaids to assist her; they will ensure she learns our family's traditions and customs properly.”

With that, she took her leave, and we all bowed deeply in respect. A maid, graceful and efficient, ushered me inside. After navigating through a series of hallways adorned with traditional artwork, she finally led me to a room.

“Y/N-ssi, this is Na-euri's room, and from today onward, it will be yours as well. The young master will join you later. Please take some time to rest, and I shall return shortly with a new handbook for you.”

Stepping inside, my senses taking in the surroundings; the room was expansive, nearly the size of my modest home. Expansive windows filtered soft sunlight, illuminating elegantly carved furniture and intricate tapestries that adorned the walls.

The handmaid closed the door behind her, leaving me in this unfamiliar space, engulfed in silence and my swirling thoughts.

***

The new hanbok draped elegantly over my frame, adorned in soft pastel hues that seemed to mirror the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through the window.

The room felt intimate, with only the silvery glow of the moonlight streaming through the sheer curtains, casting gentle shadows that danced across the walls.

On any other occasion, I might have felt a flutter of excitement for the evening ahead, but tonight was different. A deep sadness settled in my chest, mingling with a gnawing sense of fear.

I found myself grappling with the unsettling reality that I barely knew my husband, Taehyung, and was uncertain of his expectations for our night together.

Silence had enveloped us since the ceremony, his lack of words amplifying the rhythm of my pounding heart. I hoped he might sense my trepidation and find a way to comfort me.

The echo of footsteps approached from outside, each sound intensifying my anxiety. My heart raced, and a tremor coursed through my hands as the door creaked open. Taehyung stepped into the dim light, his presence commanding yet enigmatic.

He moved with an effortless grace, shedding his tailored jacket and placing it carefully on the nearby chair. Dressed in a crisp three-piece suit that exuded elegance and sophistication, an unmistakable sign of his noble status, I couldn't help but feel a pang of inadequacy.

Through my experiences as a seamstress alongside my mother, I had become familiar with the social hierarchies that existed among the wealthy. I often heard upper-class women gossiping about the latest fashions that only the rich could afford.

As Taehyung approached the bed, my grip on the soft fabric of my hanbok tightened, anxiety coursing through me. He sat down beside me, the mattress shifting slightly under his weight.

His long fingers, both strong and elegant, enveloped my hand with a gentle caress, sending a shiver up my spine.

Taehyung's long, elegant fingers enveloped my hand with a surprising warmth, a stark contrast to the chill that gripped my heart.

His deep, resonant voice broke the silence, flowing over me like a soothing balm as he began to speak and I felt a mixture of anticipation and trepidation as I awaited his words.

“Y/N, you don’t need to feel so fearful.” He reassured gently, his voice wrapped in warmth. “You are my wife now, and I promise to do everything in my power to ensure you are well cared for.” I bit my lip, feeling my heart thud against my chest like a drum echoing in the silence.

“Don’t worry, I won’t push you to do anything until you’re ready. It’s been a long day for you; you should rest. Eomeoni may seem strict, but I assure you, she has a soft heart and is a wonderfully caring mother.”

His thumb brushed against my chin, tenderly coaxing my lip free from its anxious grasp. “Oh, that poor lip,” he murmured softly.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. What happened wasn’t your fault. The only person who should feel remorse is Dae-hyun.” An angry tear slid down my cheek unbidden.

“Taehyung-ssi, please, do not mention his name in my presence again. He means nothing to me now.”

At that moment, I took his hand in mine, feeling the warmth of his skin against my smaller palm.

“I promise, Taehyung-ssi, that I will do my best to make this marriage work. I owe you so much; you saved me from the harsh judgment of others and from the cruelty of that vile man, Han Jun-su. Thank you, truly. Words cannot fully express my gratitude.”

Emotion bubbled within me, and tears blurred my vision, but Taehyung simply chuckled softly, pulling me into a warm embrace.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Y/N!” He whispered, resting his chin atop my head. “And for the sake of our bond, please call me simply Taehyung. There shouldn’t be any formalities between a husband and wife.”

As I nestled against him, a smile broke through my tears, and I nodded, feeling an ember of hope spark within me for the first time in a long while.

***

Two months had passed in what felt like a serene blink of an eye, and in that time, Taehyung had morphed into the epitome of a devoted husband, thoughtful, gentle, and always respectful.

He treated me with unwavering respect, never making me feel uncomfortable in any way. Each day, I found myself contemplating how to embrace our marriage to its fullest potential.

After our midday meal, Taehyung would take his father, whom I affectionately called Abeonim, for a leisurely stroll through the expansive garden that lay just beyond the back of the house.

The garden was a picturesque retreat, where vibrant blooms flourished amidst meticulously trimmed hedges, each pathway inviting exploration.

A few years back, Father-in-law had fallen ill, suffering a stroke that left him paralyzed. This unfortunate event forged a strong bond between them, deepening Taehyung's protective instincts. Abeonim was never without company, either Eomeonim, my mother-in-law, or a dedicated servant was always close at hand, ensuring he felt supported and cared for.

Today, my gaze drifted out of the window, and I found myself enchanted by the vision of father and son comfortably seated near the lush rose bushes, their colors blooming vibrantly under the warm sun.

Taehyung was gently spoon-feeding Abeonim a creamy rice pudding, his movements tender and attentive. Every few moments, he would pause to wipe any remnants from his father’s mouth, a soft smile lighting up his face.

The sight filled my heart with warmth; his calm and collected demeanor stood in sharp contrast to so many others in the world. I silently prayed to God to preserve this beautiful aspect of his character.

Just then, my name pierced the air, summoning me to attend to my own duties, which were of great importance to Eomeonim.

Suddenly, a furious scream shattered the tranquility around me.

"YOU FUCKING LOW LIFE! HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME WITH YOUR FILTHY HANDS!"

The shriek echoed from the back of the house, where the garden lay. Leaving everything I was attending to in a hurried rush, I dashed toward the source of the chaos, my heart racing with concern.

Eomeonim tried to calm me down, but I could hear Taehyung's angry screams cutting through the air. A part of me felt a chill of apprehension, fearful that he might have been hurt, while another part of me was simply taken aback. I had never witnessed Taehyung in such a state, his fury seemed foreign, like a tempest unleashed.

When I finally made my way to the back of the house, the sight that greeted me was striking: Taehyung stood soaked, rivulets of water cascading down his form, while a servant knelt before him, desperation written across his face, tears streaming down like a broken dam.

“Na-euri, please show mercy! I slipped and lost control of the jug. It wasn’t my intention to disrespect you; please, forgive me!” He sobbed, his hands wringing together in a futile attempt to convey his remorse.

Taehyung’s back was turned to me, and I couldn’t decipher the turmoil churning within him. My heart ached for the poor man, hoping he wouldn’t face a dire punishment for an accident.

“Sorry? Do you even know what day it is? I have a meeting with a high-ranking official, and now I have to waste precious time changing clothes again! You lowlife bastard...” His voice, sharp and unforgiving, cut through the air like a knife.

“Taehyung!” Eomeonim's authoritative voice broke through like a thunderclap. He turned quickly, the anger in his expression faltering as he caught sight of me.

His eyes widened, reflecting a moment of realization and something sinister. “That is no way to speak to someone, and you shouldn’t use such language in front of your Appa and your wife.”

Maybe it was the power of his mother’s admonishment or the fear that must have been evident on my face that quelled the storm within him, although flecks of fury still shimmered in his gaze like embers.

My mouth opened to speak, to mend the tension hanging heavy between us, but no words came forth. As he stepped closer, I instinctively recoiled, a surge of uncertainty rushing through me like icy water.

Taehyung met my gaze, his jaw clenched tight, an unspoken battle raging behind his eyes. Without uttering another word, he turned sharply and walked away, leaving an indelible silence in his wake, thick with unresolved emotions.

Eomeonim, with her piercing gaze and an air of urgency, instructed the caretaker to escort Abeonim inside, her worry evident as she observed the distress etched on his face.

I turned hesitantly toward our room, caught in a war of emotions. The mere thought of being alone with my husband churned a bitter dread in my stomach, a feeling I couldn't quite shake.

“You should learn to read him better; it will serve you well in the future.” She advised, her voice steady yet laced with a hint of concern. The intensity in her eyes mirrored the same look she had given me on our initial meeting, a blend of wisdom and warning.

“I don’t understand, Eomeonim.” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Time will teach you, but keep this in mind. My son remembers everything, and forgiveness is not in his nature.” She urged, stepping closer until she was inches away from me.

Taking my hand in hers, her grip was firm yet reassuring, but I could feel the tremor of her worry lingering in the air.

“He has always been fervent about the things he loves. He loves you, and in return, he will offer you the world, but be wary, never provoke his wrath.”

In that moment, my breath caught in my throat, and the rapid beating of my heart reverberated in my ears, drowning out all else. I opened my mouth to voice my questions, to seek more clarity, but the words faltered as fear constricted my thoughts.

Eomeonim's eyes flickered past mine, a glimmer of panic evident in her expression. In an instant, she released my hand and hurried away from the garden, leaving me isolated with my swirling thoughts.

Just then, I glanced back and caught sight of Taehyung. He was leaning casually against the window frame, his posture relaxed yet somehow imposing.

His eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine, and a smirk curled on his lips, one that was unfamiliar, even unsettling.

Slowly, almost deliberately, he pushed himself off the window and slid it closed, shutting me off from the outside world and plunging me deeper into a silence that felt foreboding.

If you like it, leave comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

129 notes · View notes

amoc94 · 5 days ago

Text

My Yandere BTS Fanfic Recommendation.

Read the warning carefully. As with any yandere story, expect some gory scenes, non consensual / dubious consensual sex, some dark kinks. (Everything under the term, you know the risk).

Minors DNI 🔞

If you hope for more stories from those authors, please do something to support them. By giving shout out, comments, and reblog their works. It's how tumblr works, people.

Long list, uncategorized.

Reblog by me means there is new addition to the list.

For non yandere recommendation, check full Navi here.

1. Allurement , Yandere Namjoon. Series of Drabbles, Slick and deceptive yandere CEO Namjoon.

2. Beloved, long oneshot. Yandere King Min Yoongi - My all time favorite, if you like asian historical dark romance, you'll love this.

3. Excitus Acta Probat, oneshot. Soft Yandere, Mafia Yoongi, feat. OT7.

4. The Tarot Series, A Collection of yandere oneshots based on Tarot Card.

5. Charming, oneshot. Cinderella AU, obsessive Prince Park Jimin. This is very beautiful the way the author describe the scenes and everything.

6. Ultimatum, miniseries. Yandere Sugar Daddy Taehyung, feat. Jimin.

7. Case Closed, miniseries. Yandere Detective Namjoon.

8. Boys Don't Cry, miniseries. Yandere husband Yoongi, feat. Hoseok.

9. Beastly Gods, oneshot. Yandere hybrid Taehyung, feat OT7.

10. Level of Restraint, long oneshot. Office AU, Yandere Jimin and Namjoon. BDSM undertone.

11. Something Wicked, series. Yandere CEO Seokjin.

12. Let The Villain Win, oneshot. Yandere thriller writer Namjoon.

13. Baby Mine, oneshot. Yandere mafia Yoongi with OC.

14. Poison Apple, mini series. Yandere Taehyung feat. Yoongi. This is not for the faint heart. Proceed with caution. Hard non con.

15. A Dangerous Game, Yandere Mob boss Namjoon x reader. Long series, there is sequel. Hard non con in one of the chapters.

16. Solar Eclipse, long oneshot. Yandere Hoseok, time travel / after life AU.

17. The Stranger, long oneshot. Yandere Doctor Seokjin.

18. Persephone, long oneshot. Yandere mafia leader Namjoon.

19. Bad Guy, ongoing series. Mafia boss Seokjin. This one is not really yandere, per se, but the way Seokjin loves the MC is quite you know...obsessive.

20. See No Evil, long oneshot. Yandere ghost Taehyung, feat. Namjoon.

21. Visitation of a Lover, long oneshot. Yandere ghost Taehyung, feat. Jin.

22. Until I Saw You, oneshot. Yandere mob Namjoon.

23. Fucked Up, yandere OT7. Polyamorous - Idol AU. This is actually a series, look in the author's masterlist. The full version is in author's AO3. (Beware tho, the long version is just like the title says, pretty fucked up, lol.)

24. Illicit Photography, series with a sequel. Soft yandere Jungkook with reader as his teacher.

25. Promise, long oneshot. Yandere boyfriend Jimin.

26. Break My Mind's Eye, series. Jungkook as mob boss x fashion designer OC, yandere undertone.

27. Every Breath You Take , oneshot. Stalker Jungkook x reader, feat. Namjoon & Hoseok.

28. Actually, The Devil Wears Gucci, oneshot. Wicked CEO Taehyung with assistant reader.

29. Positive, quite long oneshot. Yandere richman Yoongi, waitress reader is pregnant.

30. Tea For Two, oneshot. Yandere Prince Namjoon x reader, arranged marriage AU.

31. Falling for A Lounge Singer, oneshot. Yandere mafia Taehyung, reader is a singer.

32. Black Swan, long one shot. Swan Prince Jimin x reader as a Princess. I'm not usually fond of story about faeries, this one is an exception. Hard to describe this, along with the hair that stood on my nape and that tingling feeling of fear and excitement while reading this. A truly masterpiece.

33. Making of A Lover, yandere Jungkook with his assistant reader. It's short but darkly entertaining.

34. Expectation x Reality, oneshot. Jungkook x reader, Taehyung x reader. Some hard dub con. With plot twist. 🤭

35. Delphinium, long oneshot, King Taehyung x queen reader. Soft yandere, angst. Beautiful with, ... again, plot twist.😈

36. In The Pain Of The Roses, long one shot, yandere king Yoongi x princess reader. Beautiful, poetic narrative. Read the tag warning, because it's really dark.

37. Anti Hero, long oneshot, yandere Yoongi x idol reader. Not many yandere story in idol universe, this one is not only one of the few, but also oh so so good.

38. Broken, oneshot. Seokjin x reader. Some dub con borderline to non con. Proceed with caution, because it's quite dark. I read this like a year ago, but everytime I read it again, it never failed to give me a shiver. It's on AO3.

39. Infatuation, series of one-shots. Light reading, darkly entertaining. Always fun to reread. It's on AO3.

40. Cardio, long oneshot. Personal trainer Jungkook x rich wife reader. Infidelity, angst, thriller. Very well written. On AO3.

41. Deviant Affairs, long one-shot. Jimin was your stepbrother who was crazy in love with you.

42. Motive, long one shot. College AU. Jungkook x reader x another girl. Angst, thriller, love triangle. It will keep you on edge dragged by your curiosity before 💣💣 boom! There it go, the plot twist.

43. Still With You, one-shot. King Jungkook x servant reader.

44. The Mansion, long one-shot. Jimin x another man's wife reader. Very good, give you those old house horror scenes vibe.

45. Énouement, long one-shot. Doctor Taehyung x trophy wife reader. It's a part of interconnected stories with other members. Look at the author's masterlist. This is the one that I like the most.

46. Polarity, miniseries. Yandere Jungkook x reader. Infidelity around bestfriend relationship entangled with twisted obsession. It's really good!♥️

47. Arte Factum, long oneshot. Yandere android Jimin x reader. Jimin is a sub here.

48. Knight in Bloody Armor, club owner Hoseok x reader. Ongoing series. Very well written and chilling. It's on AO3, and you need to log in to be able to read it.

49. House of Serpents, ongoing series. OT7 x high class escort reader in organized crime AU. A shitload twisted men with twisted sex flavor. I have no words to say other than it put me on variety of different emotions until its latest chapter, and I have love and hate relationship with all of the men here. Polyamorous dynamic, heavy BDSM vibe. It's very well written on AO3. As always, read the warning.

50. Love Pages, long oneshot. Yandere Jimin x slight yandere reader, inspired by "Death Note".

51. Kill to Kiss You, long oneshot. Jungkook as mob boss x escort reader. I got cold hands and feet reading this. Chilling and put you on edge till the end.

52. Lesson Learnt, miniseries. CEO JK x ex gf reader. My ultimate weakness, BTS members as CEO with power and obsession. This one is pretty dark, read all the warning.

53. Code Red, one shot. Doctor Jimin x patient reader.

54. A Thriller Film, movie director Jungkook × reader as his stylist. It's well written and chilling.

55. Killing Me Softly, yandere OT7 x reader. Polyamorous AU but quite realistic thus give you chill to imagine what you would feel if this indeed is real.

56. Daffodil Dreams, yandere patient Taehyung, MC is his therapist. There are two parts - Dreams and Nightmare. Chilling and hair-raising.

57. Cruel Intentions, yandere mobster JK x reader in South Korea setting, my favorite AU. Love it❤️

58. Mindless, patient Hoseok x psychiatrist reader. Oneshot.

59. Roses, oneshot. Yandere dynamic between JK x reader. Just, wow.

60. Sinner, oneshot. Yandere fugitive Jungkook x detective reader. I reread like ... 6 times? That's just how good it is😙

61. The Broken Vow, attorney JK x reader as his ex wife. This one is so well written, leave you with mixed emotion, love and hate at the same time. Just ❤️

62. Cabin in The Woods, Jungkook as werewolf, reader as his mate and prisoner? Lol. Stockholm syndrome. I can't hate him here. Somehow he indeed protected her.

63. Cathexis, three parter, Jimin x reader. Based on Firestarter movie. 'There was no way in hell he would let anything happen to you and he would raise literal hell to make sure you were never hurt. If anyone tried to take you from him he’d burn the entire world down'.

64. Snatched, two parter ongoing. Yandere harpy Taehyung x nurse reader. Dystopian AU, dark and chilling. Very well written.

65. Obsesión, oneshot. Yandere pro rugby player Jungkook x sport journalist POC reader.

66. Code of Conduct, long series. Jungkook mafia au.

67. Lacrimosa, Mafia Yoongi, historical setting. Not many good written yandere historical stories like this. A must read.

68. Hiraeth, Kim Seokjin as your childhood bestfriend. What length he would do to keep you close.

69. The Black Pearl, triparter series. Jungkook as your billionaire sugar daddy. Rich, drop dead gorgeous and twistedly charming. My favorite.

70. What Are You Willing To Do?, You were months behind on your rent, and your property manager offered to help you in exchange of something he had long waiting for.

71. Beneath His Love, JK as highschool mate turned billionaire. Two shot.

72. Embrace of Ruins, King Jungkook who claimed the queen of his enemy. Dark, poetic and beautiful.

73. Ace, Crimelord JJK x Detective reader. Very very intense. Part 2 contains heavy dubcon, so read with caution.

74. Till Death Do Us Apart, pro sharpshooter JK x girlfriend reader. This one shot is a part of Jungkook yandere shortstories collection in Wattpad . They are good, but this one is my fav. (If link is not opened, find this author @lovxickgguk_)

75. The Seven (Bts x Reader), not sure if you can categorized this as poly? I read this a few years ago, during my early period as an Army and writer on Wattpad. This is a cult. You can see for the million reads this story got. Put you on edge till the end.

Authors:

@sweetwolfcupcake @bang-tan-bitches @flowesona @bangtans-apollo @lemonjoonah @chaoticpuff17 @jooniyah @deepdarkdelights @sweetbunnykook @worldwidemochiguy @jingabitch @jkeuphoriadreamland @flowerwrites06 @junqkook @yandere-society @smileyoongle @nomnomsik @persephoneyss @chummywchimmy @ddaenqu @lovetalkhendery @chinkbihh @jessikahathaway @darkestcorners @99liners @yanderebts @jimlingss @bebejungkook @taechaos @girlmeetsliv3 @sombreboy @explicit-tae @lolabangtan @jungk0oksthighs @roses-ruby @lleldey @girl8890 @bahbah-bee @thvlouvre @go1denjeon @pennyellee @wildestdreamsblog @lovelyspring7 @trivia-yandere @ctrlsht @jjkssin @letthemkook

Updated July 2025.

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