Yandere BTS Oneshots.

Psycho's Obsession || KTH

The night was thick with rain, a relentless downpour drumming against the rooftop. Y/n ran, her bare feet slapping against the pavement, her breath coming in frantic gasps. She had waited for this moment for weeks—when Taehyung would be distracted, when she could slip away and disappear. But the world wasn't kind to desperate people.

A hand fisted in her hair from behind, yanking her backward so violently she almost snapped her neck.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going, baby?" Taehyung's voice was sickly sweet, teasing, as he dragged her against his chest. He smelled like expensive cologne and cigarettes—comforting once, but now suffocating.

"N-No—please!" she sobbed, struggling, but his grip was ironclad.

"You really thought you could leave me?" he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. Then, his tone shifted, dark and venomous. "You're mine, Y/n. You don't get to run."

Before she could scream, his fist slammed into her gut. The air left her lungs in a painful wheeze, her body collapsing against him.

"See, now we have a problem," he mused, effortlessly hoisting her over his shoulder. "You broke my trust. And you know what happens when you break my trust?"

She didn't want to know.

The basement smelled of damp cement and old blood. The walls were lined with chains, hooks, and things she didn't want to identify. Y/n was strapped to a chair, wrists bound behind her, ankles tied together. The ropes cut into her skin, but the pain barely registered over the terror clawing at her throat.

Taehyung stood before her, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, stained from past encounters. He sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"God, baby, you've really pissed me off," he muttered, flexing his fingers. "I told you, didn't I? I told you to never try that shit."

"T-Taehyung, please..." her voice cracked. "I just—I can't do this anymore. I can't live like this."

His eyes darkened. "Live like what? Being my wife? Being taken care of?"

"This isn't love!" she cried.

He smiled, slow and sinister. "You don't know what love is."

Then, he grabbed a knife from the table beside him, the blade glinting under the dim light.

"Taehyung—NO!" she shrieked, thrashing, but he was already moving.

The knife pressed against her thigh, just enough to slice the fabric of her dress. He moved it up, inch by inch, exposing more of her trembling skin.

"You think some other man is gonna love you like I do?" he murmured. "Think some loser out there is gonna take my place? Huh?"

He pressed down. The blade bit into her flesh, a shallow cut, just enough to make her scream.

"Answer me," he ordered.

"N-No! No one!" she sobbed.

"Damn right," he muttered, twisting the knife just a little before pulling away. Blood welled up, trickling down her leg.

"Please, please, just let me go," she begged.

He laughed. Actually laughed.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart. You belong to me. You're mine to love, mine to hurt, mine to break if I fucking want to."

Her sobs echoed in the basement, mixing with his cruel chuckles.

This was only the beginning.

Taehyung wiped the blade against his sleeve, watching the blood smear into the fabric with a satisfied smirk. He crouched down so he was eye level with Y/n, his dark gaze devouring every tear that slipped down her face.