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Prettiest Doll.

Chapter Text

The OST I listened to while writing.

Excuse any mistake :(





If Jimin had been asked a few days ago, he would’ve said his life was perfect.

It’s just a feeling, just a bad feeling. Nothing. It’s normal to get bad feelings; he just has to brush it off.

If Jimin had been asked a few hours ago, he would’ve said nothing, because the cloth pushed in his mouth, making him choke on his own saliva, kept him from talking.

It’s a rough way to come out of school, to be hit so hard and see stars, to be shoved in a car trunk, to not be able to even call for help. Who would’ve listened anyway?

If Jimin had been asked a few years ago, he would’ve said that his life was already traced. He’s way too good for anything to happen to him, right?

He doesn’t remember when it all happened, but he knows it happened, because it’s been way too long for it to be only a bad dream. The cuffs around his ankles are so tight that he’s sure it’s cutting his skin, the one around his wrists, behind his back, keep him from putting his glasses back in place. It can’t be that long, because he’s still in his school clothes, and he doesn’t smell bad. He scrunches his nose to keep his glasses from falling, looks around, tries to guess where he is. Nothing helps.

The room looks totally normal, maybe a bit on the “too-much” side, because how many vases are on the floor? Not any flowers in sight but then, he’s no-one to judge decoration when in this position. He’s alone, even when focusing hard he doesn’t hear anything. Judging by the view he has in between the shutters he’s on the second or third floor. A big house? Or a building? It’s hard to say. Everything is hard right now. Jimin tries to keep calm, tries to slow down his heart beats so he can concentrate, think about a way to escape.

A way to escape? He’s attached to a bed with metal cuffs scratching his skin like angry cats. How did he even think escaping was possible? Hope is a nice way to survive, but it doesn’t do anything.

He just has to wait. Wait for something, he doesn’t know what. Just wait like a good kid.

Patience is a virtue.

Footsteps. Heavy footsteps, like someone who’d walk without conviction, lazily. They’re coming closer and Jimin stares at the closed door, waiting for it to open and let a big monster appear. It has to be a monster. Just so he can finally realize that he’s just dreaming.

Time seems to be extending because Jimin can count the seconds while the door handle is being turned, the door creaking open like in some horror movie. Suddenly calmness isn’t an option anymore and Jimin starts pulling on his restrains. He still can’t talk but muffled screams still leave his mouth, hurting his throat. It’s a big change, to realize that there’s no monster, just a man. A man he’s sure to know.

“Hi Jimin, how are you?”

Jimin blinks multiple times, as if he was trying to wake up from this horrible nightmare.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you can’t talk.”

There’s a laugh coming from those lips, he hears it. He hears the laugh, and he knows it too. He heard it already.

“Let me just take that off. But you won’t scream, alright?”

Jimin looks at the man approach, his mind fuzzy with fear and anxiousness, and he can’t put a name on that face, but he knows he knows him. They look at each other for a long time before Jimin understands he needs to give an answer. He nods timidly, eyes soon enough looking away. The cloth is removed and Jimin closes his mouth. It’s not that he wants to give up already, but he has no way to escape, no way to call for help, because what if the not-stranger is hiding a knife? What if he kills him with one of the vases decorating the room? Jimin doesn’t want to die, and it’s maybe the biggest reason that he stays silent.

“So, now, how are you?”

Jimin is still looking away, counting the flowers on one of the vases. He can count six from where he is, wonders if he should ask him to turn the vase so he can count the rest. It’s stupid. He’s too scared to even open his mouth. The thing is, he needs to answer or else the other will get angry. Or maybe not, but he’s in no mood to try things out.

“I-I’m fine.”

He isn’t. His heart is beating so fast it’s going to break his ribcage, and his ears are buzzing, his ankles are hurting, and his shoulders are tense. He’s not fine. His glasses are falling from his nose, he doesn’t dare scrunch it to put them back in place, he doesn’t dare blink for too long, because the gaze burning holes in his skull keeps him from moving.

“Good! You know who I am, right?”

Jimin nods, even though he can’t put a name on that face, he knows who he is. The man smiles, and it’s a smile Jimin saw already. He just needs to replace the context. He just needs to get where he saw it. He just needs to calm down. It’s nothing.

It’s everything.

Nothing bad could happen.

He’s literally attached to a bed.

He needs to remember the name. He needs to remember the name. He needs to remember the name.


Taehyung looks up, surprised.


And suddenly Jimin feels stupid but relieved. In some sort. He’s only relieved because he was finally able to place a name on that face. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s attached, but at least he feels confident enough to start talking.

“Uh…if this is a joke…it’s not really funny you know.”

Jimin still wishes, somewhere deep inside, that all of this is a dream, or a bad joke. He still wishes that Taehyung is going to start laughing and take keys out of his pocket, maybe invite him for dinner, things friends do. They didn’t spend much time together before, but if this is the only way Taehyung found to approach him, Jimin is sure he can forgive the rough gesture.

Laughing, Taehyung does, but it sounds so off, it sounds so…disturbing.

“A joke? Why would it be a joke?”

“I-I mean…all that…the…”

Jimin doesn’t have the guts to finish his sentence, because Taehyung’s expression changes.

“Why would it be a joke?”

Jimin opens his mouth to talk but closes it immediately after. He’s not sure anymore. This isn’t a dream; this isn’t a joke. So what?

“Am I not to be taken seriously?”

Jimin looks up so fast he hears his neck crack.

“N-no… I mean yes!”

Maybe it’s a bit too late to be aware of it, but at least Jimin knows it now. He’s in danger and he needs to get out of here. And the sooner the better.

Jimin feels tension in the air, and nothing good, nothing romantic. Pure, oppressing tension. That was the bad feeling he felt hours or days ago. Or weeks. The hell he knows.

“Oh my, let’s get you changed!”

Jimin wants to laugh, because what kind of comedian or broke robot is Taehyung? Swinging from mood to mood, smiling after shooting lasers with his eyes.

“You can’t stay like that, right? How bad would I be?”

Jimin doesn’t know how bad he would be if he let him in his school uniform, but he knows how bad he is already, because nice people don’t kidnap others. Because as much as he wants to embellish it, he’s just been kidnapped by one of his classmates. It’s as simple as that.

Jimin notices fast enough that Taehyung always expects answers, whatever he says, so he hurries to spit an answer.

“No, I can’t!”

Taehyung nods, walking out of the room, and with that, all the tension flows away, as if Taehyung was the impersonation of that feeling. Jimin sighs, pulls a bit on his cuffs to see if he can, by any miracle, break them. Realistically, he has more chances cutting both his hands off than be able to snap this thing open. He doesn’t want to be an amputee. Not that there’s anything wrong with them, but if he has even one chance to keep all his body intact, he’d better keep it.

Taehyung comes back a few minutes after, carrying clothes that could be mistaken for doll clothes. Jimin looks up, still hoping for that “I’m joking” that never comes. Taehyung just puts the clothes on the bed.

“Here. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

Jimin nods dumbly, because yes, it is, there’s no question about it…but he’s not supposed to wear them, right? Taehyung just wanted to show him his pretty…dresses…collection?  


Taehyung ignores the hesitation in Jimin’s voice, because he’s too excited for what’s coming next.

“Jimin, what’s your favorite color?”

This can’t be serious, now.

“Uh…I like blue and purple…”

Taehyung claps in his hands and Jimin feels his heart stop. If he ever dies, it’s going to be from a heart attack.

“Perfect! I have the perfect dress for you!”

A dress? Jimin laughs nervously, not sure if he can take it any longer. He’s not going to wear a dress. He’s a man for fuck’s sake!

“Why do you laugh?”

Jimin stops, looks down like he’s been caught doing something wrong, and hopes that Taehyung doesn’t get angry. He hates those mood swings, he hates where he is, he hates his life.

“I’m not…laughing.”

Taehyung hums, takes one blue dress out of the pile, a pretty dress, like Jimin has seen in Disney movies, with ruffles and pearls, that probably costs more than this house. Some of the pearls are a light purple and Jimin is sure he can see some diamonds. It’s a piece of art. Sure, piece of art, all of that. Jimin is not going to wear that dress.

“It’s pretty. I really like this one, you have good tastes.”

Jimin nods slowly, staring at the dress, the big impressive dress.

“This…I’m supposed to wear this?”

Taehyung looks at him as if he asked the dumbest question and shrugs.

“No, you’re supposed to eat it.”

And it should be a joke, but Jimin doesn’t feel like laughing anymore. He feels more like crying now, and maybe he does, because he feels wetness on his cheeks. Taehyung comes closer, wiping the unwelcomed tears with his thumb.

“Don’t cry, you’re going to look so pretty in it.”

Jimin feels a cold chill creep up his spine, and he almost pushes the hand away because his whole body tells him that it’s wrong, this whole situation is wrong. Jimin shouldn’t be here.

Taehyung straightens up, smile still plastered on his face. He grabs a key on the bedside table and goes behind Jimin, unfastening his ankles cuffs. Jimin could try and run away, but he’s not even sure where the exit is. He needs to wait. He can wait. Wearing a dress is nothing. He can do that.

Taehyung frees his hands too, and Jimin is finally able to rub his wrists and relax his shoulders. It feels good. At least one good thing in that whole mess.

“Take off your clothes.”

Jimin knows he has to listen, just to keep Taehyung in a balanced “happy” mood. He starts by unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, as slowly as ever possible without looking suspect. He looks up from time to time only to see Taehyung bore holes in his appearing chest. Jimin wants to hide it, but he can’t. He’s totally laid bare.

The shirt falls from his shoulders in such a charming way, and Jimin hates how good he looks, because Taehyung is looking at him with predatory eyes, like he’s going to jump on him anytime.

“Pants. Underwear too.”

Jimin ignores the last part of the sentence, ignores it until he comes to it and has no choice but to do what he’s told. He ends up naked, on a bed that isn’t his, in a room that isn’t his, with a man, Taehyung, nice classmate who makes jokes sometimes. Quite popular, really good at talking with girls. Yeah, a nice guy.

Taehyung gauges him, eyes lingering on Jimin’s soft cock. Jimin blushes, looking at the ceiling to forget in which attire he is.

“Now, foot up.”

Taehyung kneels in from of Jimin, dress opened and patiently waiting for Jimin to put a first foot in it. Jimin needs to take support on Taehyung’s shoulders to not lose balance, and he ignores the bad tingling in his spine, fingers tightening around the muscles. Once both feet are inside, Taehyung pulls the dress up Jimin’s body, sliding his arms through the see-through sleeves where some diamonds and pearls can be seen. Taehyung circles Jimin to reach behind and zip the dress up.

“Look how pretty you are!”

Jimin looks down, more tears appearing in the corner of his eyes, falling on the oh so pretty dress, making him feel so…something. So something. Jimin looks up, sees the satisfied look on Taehyung’s features, tells himself it’s not that bad. It’s not that bad, right? It’s worse than bad.

“Don’t make such a face. I wish I could wear that dress too.”

And Jimin wants to say that he can wear it, that he’d happily give it to him, but it doesn’t work like that. This dress is Jimin’s now, whatever he thinks about it.

Taehyung takes Jimin’s old clothes and leaves the room, not before having chained Jimin back to the bed. Of course. Jimin didn’t even notice the ankle cuffs were chains, and now he just feels like a lost princess in her even more lost tower. And the big bad dragon took a human form.

“It’s late now, you should sleep.”

Yes, Jimin is totally going to sleep. Mostly when he risks dying every minute, every second. He’s just going to sleep and tomorrow everything would’ve been just a dream. He’s going to sleep until he doesn’t wake up in a dress anymore. He’s going to sleep dead.

“Good night.”

The door closes, leaving Jimin in a dark room, with a dress on, a everything but comfortable to sleep dress. Jimin guesses he’ll have to do with it, because he certainly doesn’t want to call Taehyung and ask him to change clothes. He just sits on the bed, looking at the wall or counting the flowers on the vase again. It’s going to be a long night.




If Jimin was asked now, he’d say he hates himself for ever thinking nothing could happen to him.

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, Jimin is still attached to that fucking bed and there’s no way he’ll be able to escape from that damned place. Jimin looks up at the ceiling where he can see strays of light and waits for time to pass. He didn’t close his eyes, didn’t sleep even a minute. He sat on the bed, making sure the dress didn’t get crumpled, that none of the pearls were missing. Not that he knows how many pearls are on that dress, and he’s stressed enough over his situation that he shouldn’t ever worry about such futile details, but he does, because how would Taehyung react if a pearl was missing? Jimin is sure he’d see it. And the reaction would be pretty bad.

Jimin doesn’t hear anything for another ten minutes, because Taehyung is probably sleeping, not like Jimin who’s been wide awake the whole night. He feels jealous, really jealous.

Even more jealous when Taehyung, when coming in the room, asks him if he had a good night. Jimin nods, of course. He’s had a horrible night, but his automatic response is to nod to whatever Taehyung asks or says. Because yes is always the right answer.

“I’m hungry, let’s eat something!”

And as if Jimin’s stomach waited for permission, there’s a rumbling sound seeming to echo through the whole town with how loud it is, and Jimin blushes, knowing it’s coming from his own body.

Taehyung looks at him, an amused smile on his lips. He approaches Jimin and unfastens the chain from the bed, leaving it around Jimin’s ankle and just holding it. Jimin understands that it’s some sort of leash, and he feels bad for that, but he can’t do anything about it.

“I know you like fruits for breakfast, so I prepared lots of them!”

Jimin is happy, or makes himself believe his happy, because Taehyung knew he liked fruits, but on the other side he just wonders how he knows, and that part creeps the shit out of him. Taehyung knows things he’s not supposed to know. They never ate breakfast together.

Jimin is placed on a high chair, like a bar chair, something with a footrest on it where Taehyung can attach the chain without Jimin risking taking it off. It’s clever. Too clever for Jimin’s liking.

“Now, let’s eat.”

Jimin looks at the plates, hears his stomach rumble again, and is about to reach out for the food when his hand is slapped away. A yelp leaves his mouth that he immediately regrets.

“Don’t. I’ll help you.”

“I can eat a-”

The look, again, and Jimin shuts up. Dying still isn’t part of the plan, even if the plan doesn’t quite exist right now. Taehyung takes a strawberry from one of the plates, Jimin numbers three plates, each one a specific color, each one a specific form. It’s nice, really, but it’s not. The strawberry makes its way to Jimin’s mouth, and he doesn’t dare keep it close and challenge Taehyung, because as much as he’s seen him at school, he’s not sure how he’d react to such resistance.

His mouth opened, he waits for the food, tries to ignore how dumb he must look, how vulnerable, tries to ignore the itchiness of the dress, the tightness of the cuffs around his ankles, the irritated state of his skin, where said cuffs press, as if they were trying to cut through. Tries to ignore the constant rattling the bond makes. Tries to ignore reality.

“It’s good right? I bought them just for you!”

Jimin is not sure if he needs to be grateful for such a thing, because he doesn’t feel grateful at all. He’d better not have strawberries and be outside, walking in the streets, maybe get bored, watch TV. Be with his friends.

Another strawberry comes to his mouth and he opens, because if he can avoid problems, he does. Taehyung smiles, seems to be satisfied with all Jimin’s reactions, and a wave of relief washes over his heart. He’s not going to die. Today, at least.

It goes on like that for at least an hour, or it seems like that, because Jimin can’t see a single clock in this kitchen, and he doesn’t remember seeing one anywhere in this house. Then again, he didn’t visit it all, and some closed door remain mysteriously secret. Jimin imagines a lot of things; Taehyung could have a torture room; he could keep corpses in his bathroom for all he knows. And maybe thinking about it wasn’t the best of his ideas, because he’s suddenly too aware that he needs to use the bathroom.


He doesn’t know if he can be that “familiar” with the man, for he finally doesn’t know much about him. It sounds just so weird to call his name, so unnatural.


Words shouldn’t burn his tongue when he says them, but that’s the feeling he gets.

“I need…I need to pee…”

And Jimin awaits everything, for example that Taehyung laughs in his face and tells him that he’s not allowed, or for him to just fail his request. He just doesn’t expect him to act as if they were friends. Weird friends though.

“Let me show you the bathroom!”

In the back of Jimin’s mind, there’s still that idea that he’ll be met with corpses, wide-opened-eyes corpses that would look deep into his soul. Like Taehyung does.

He’s relieved when he doesn’t see corpses, even if his whole mind told him he was going to see some, because it would explain the craziness for the situation. He’s a bit disappointed, because that makes Taehyung someone normal, and he is not normal. Nobody who’s in a normal state of mind would ever kidnap anybody.

“You’re going to need help, Jimin. I don’t want you do mess the dress.”

It’s said in a relaxed tone, with that laugh at the end, but it’s not a joke. It’s not. It’s never a joke. Taehyung pulls on the chain, making Jimin almost stumble. The dress doesn’t help, seems to take way more space than it needs and Jimin wouldn’t be sorry to admit that he isn’t used to wear that kind of attire. It’s a girl’s thing. Dresses are a girl’s thing. Jimin is even more convinced of that since he’s forced to wear one. If he ever comes out of here, he’s going to hate dresses until the day he dies.

Jimin hears a sound, his brain doesn’t quite register where it comes from until there’s a cold breeze caressing his back, and he understands he opened the dress. He needs to pee, that’s it, he can pull the dress up. He doesn’t need to be totally naked. He’s never going to make it, he just can’t. Not when Taehyung stays next to the door, chain still in hand, watching him.

“You can go.”

He’s holding the dress, Jimin isn’t sure when he ever took it entirely off, but then he’s not quite focused on the moment. He’s petrified, looks at the toilet bowl as if it was some sort of big monster. Right now, it is.

“Do you need help?”

Jimin jumps a bit when Taehyung’s voice rings inside the not so tiny room, and he shakes his head. He can do it. Of course, he can. Just close his eyes, forget where he is and let go. Hum a song? Something, anything to forget that place. It works after some time, when the first trickle of pee finally decides to leave his damn bladder. He feels as relieved as he feels tensed, because Taehyung is still burning holes into his body. It takes ages, decades, before he’s done, and then he doesn’t dare move from this stupid position. He just waits, breathes deep, for Taehyung to notice he’s finished. He doesn’t want to say it, because as adult as his voice sounds, it would be quite childish.

“Are you finished?”

Jimin nods timidly, not even bothering to look it Taehyung’s direction because he’s not sure if he would be able to keep the tears from falling. He doesn’t want to look weak now, he wants to go home.

“Let me help, put you back in that dress.”

In a last attempt of resistance, Jimin shakes his head, pouting. He doesn’t know where the pout comes from, but right now it emphasizes the fact that he disagrees well enough.

“No? Oh! I’m sorry, you’ve been in that dress for the whole night. How dumb am I… Would a black dress be okay for tonight?”

Jimin looks at Taehyung with such…disdain, such disgust. He would’ve preferred sleeping naked than in another tight dress. If he’s lucky it’s not going to have pearls and diamonds on it, but if he remembers what he sees, they all have some fancy decorations on them. After having attached Jimin to the metal pipe holding the shower head, forcing him to sit down with his feet in the bathtub, Taehyung skips out of the room. Jimin starts crying at some point, the tension being too much, the pain being too much, the shame being too much. He’s naked and attached like a dog. Just the dog food is missing, and he can start barking.

Taehyung comes back after a few minutes, holding a dress, or a pile of black tissues it seems. There are no pearls, but multitudes of feathers and tiny diamonds hanging to them. It’s worse than pearls.

“Look what I got you! Isn’t it pretty? But first you need to shower, right? Don’t want you to smell bad.”

Jimin deliberately nods this time, because this time he agrees on that fact. He needs a shower. And he needs it alone. But dreams stay dreams and he’s only half surprised when Taehyung opens the faucet, warm water flowing out of the showerhead. He’s somewhat thankful for that, because he’ll smell good, and that comforts him in a way. What could be worse than wear a dress and have an itchy skin because it’s not clean enough? The dress is already the worst part of it all.

Now he couldn’t complain because the water feels good, and he almost forgets his naked until he feels hands on his body. He wants to push them away, because it’s privacy trespassing, but he knows too well what could happen if he ever just tried to make a move. Jimin looks down at the hands, soapy, rubbing his skin. It’s alright when it’s his chest, he can live with that, but it becomes a bit embarrassing when it goes down to his private parts, and he doesn’t say a word for he’s too scared.

“Stop being so tense, it feels like I’m cleaning a dummy.”

As much as Jimin wants to laugh at the joke it comes out as a chocked and painful “giggle”. Taehyung doesn’t seem to be able to tell the difference, or he just chooses to overlook it.

The shower goes on for twenty minutes, if Jimin’s counting skills can be trusted. Counting seemed to be the best way to disremember. He’ll do anything from now on.

Taehyung scrubbed him clean, washed his hair, made him sit in the bathtub, chain rattling so loud against the porcelain. It couldn’t have been something less noisy.

“All clean! Let’s dry you off and dress you.”

Jimin would love to stay in the tub, hide his face in between his knees and just disappear from existence until all of this is finished, but he can feel Taehyung pull on the chains hard enough that it hurts, and Jimin is tired of being in pain. He stands up, comes out of the shower and lets Taehyung drape a towel around his body. It feels good. Showers are maybe his favorite thing, if he ignores his privacy being stepped on.

He nearly forgets about the black feather dress and swallows a whimper when he sees it. Life was so good naked. Like was perfect, naked. He doesn’t want to get dressed.

“Let’s put that dress on now, it’s all clean like you!”

Jimin wants to shake his head so hard he breaks his neck, but he doesn’t move. He tightens the towel around him a bit more, as if trying to protect himself from the outside world. Taehyung looks at him, smiling, and Jimin looks down, staring at the tiled floor, counting how many tiles there are.


His name sounds ugly coming from those lips, his name sounds hideous coming from those lips. He doesn’t want to hear his name coming from those lips and if listening is the way, then he’ll be the best boy ever. He drops the towel; it lands on the floor with a soft thud. Taehyung hums and beckons Jimin to come to the center of the room, where he’s waiting with the dress opened, like the blue one before. Jimin walks slowly, hoping that a miracle will happen for every step he executes.


Taehyung pulls the tight dress up his body, the fabric fitting perfectly around his curves. He hates it. Jimin can see his reflection in the mirror, and he wishes he was blind. He hates it so much.

“You look so pretty. Let’s try shoes now!”




The shoes Jimin is wearing hurt. They’re everything but comfortable, and the heels are way too high for him to walk properly. But no worries, Taehyung didn’t leave his side for a second, and he’s nice enough to help him.

“We need to train you so you can walk in these.”

Taehyung looks at the red shoes, beautiful, there’s no mistaking, but not his style. He’s more snickers and boots. Without heels. Just flat. Very flat. Bare feet are the best.

Taehyung claps in his hands again, and Jimin gets that he does it a lot when he has an idea, as bad as the idea sounds.

“Let’s explore the house, so you can learn how to walk in those!”

Jimin doesn’t move. He looks up at Taehyung with such fearful eyes, like an animal caught in headlights. His legs are trembling with the effort he puts in staying upright, his toes hurt because of the tight ending the shoe has. Nothing’s good. It’s with a tiny voice, a hesitant tone that he asks, hoping for a negative answer.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Taehyung starts laughing. This is the least expected answer, but Jimin tries to ignore the knot forming in his stomach. There’s nothing to laugh about. Nothing funny.

“Why would I kill you? I’m not a monster.”

Jimin is not sure if he can believe in those words. Taehyung has everything monstrous. Is everything monstrous.

“Come on now, let me help you walk.”

They look like a king and his queen, when Taehyung holds Jimin by his arm, helping his walk out of his bedroom. The chains rattle, the heels click against the hard floor, echoes through the whole house. Does Taehyung have neighbors? Is the whole building…is it a building? Jimin has still no idea where he is, because for as long as he remembers, none of the shutters are open. He’s in a golden prison.

The first room they visit is the main room, the living room, and it’s big. Jimin realizes in what kind of mansion he is, because everything is uselessly big. He could drive a car in there. The floor is made of marble, the table too, the walls of opaque glass, where painting can be seen. Flowers, mostly, and abstract art. If Jimin looks up he can see wood, good quality, strong wood, in intricate designs. This house is too much. The sofas must be leather, probably because diamond wouldn’t be comfortable enough.

There’s a TV, taking the whole length and height of the wall it’s attached to. It’s a cinema screen.

“Impressive huh? My parents bought everything.”

“Do they…come here sometimes?”

Jimin hopes that yes, that he can speak to them, tell them what’s happening.

“They’re dead.”

It’s as if he was slapped in the face with a hot pan. Dead. Did he kill them? He definitely killed them, there’s no other explanation. If Jimin was afraid before, he’s going to piss himself now, because just the possibility of Taehyung being a dangerous murderer is enough to make him lose all hopes of escaping. He’s going to die in this house.

They visit the other rooms, everything’s doing so good and Jimin becomes more confident in his walking capacity, too confident. He whispers to Taehyung that he wants to try and walk alone, and after a bit of fighting, or begging, call it whatever, Taehyung finally accepts. Not for long, because not three steps after Jimin stumbles, ripping the bottom of the sheer dress. The sound is so loud. So loud.

Too loud.

Jimin sees his whole life run before his eyes, feels Taehyung’s burning gaze on him.

“What was that?”

Oh, Jimin knows Taehyung knows. He doesn’t open his mouth, because whatever he says would worsen his situation.

Taehyung approaches, slowly, as if he knew what would happen if he got slower, of how the pressure in Jimin’s ears would increase, of how his blood would run cold. He stops just in front of him, after having circled the entire room to come to his current place. He looks at the dress, the torn dress, then up. Reiterates his question.

“What was that?”

Jimin stumbles on words, tries to find any excuse, any reason, blame the heels, blame the floor. He knows Taehyung isn’t having any of that.

“Take it off. Rip it off.”

The voice is firm, but Jimin still hesitates. A tad bit too long.

“I said fucking rip off that dress!”

Jimin jumps, looks around and tries to rip the fabric off, but the upper part of the dress is made of a quite strong fabric and he can’t, not with how he’s swimming in fear. Sadly, it’s not the reaction Taehyung awaited.

“You’re stupid, right? So stupid you can’t even take off a dress properly. You need my help for everything, can’t even walk without tearing the dress.”

Jimin feels tears collect in the corner of his eyes, tries to wipe them with the back of his hands but Taehyung holds them.

“Couldn’t open a door without help. Too dumb to even breathe by yourself, right?”

Fear. Fear is not what Jimin feels, it’s just an emotion. Jimin feels as if his bones where being crushed, as if his heart had stopped beating. Jimin feels as if he was already dead. Taehyung turns him around and opens the dress, letting it pool at Jimin’s feet.

“If you can’t wear a dress without destroying it, you’re going to stay naked. Dumb people don’t need clothes, wouldn’t know what they’re made for.”

Jimin sobs, finally understanding what will occur of him. Naked in a house, treated like a dog. He sobs loudly, misses his friends suddenly, wants them back. Wants his life back.

If Jimin was asked now…

It hurts to be thrown down the basement stairs like a vulgar garbage bag. It hurts.



This is fiction, Taehyung actually never kidnapped Jimin in real life.

Chapter Text

Welcome to a ride to hell, I hope you enjoy your trip.

Talk to me on twitter

Proofreading later



It’s dark. Jimin’s entire body hurts, he’s cold. Everything was perfect and he ruined it all. Perfect as can be. If he focuses, he can hear Taehyung walking in the house, humming a song. He hears him, he misses the outside world already. Are his friends worrying? Why would they? They probably think he went on vacation somewhere. Nobody cares about him. He lives in a selfish world.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, standing up at the bottom of the stairs, watching at the little light ray under the door. Only proof he’s not been thrown in hell. Ah, who knows. Maybe hell has a tiny ray of light under a big door, just to torture whoever’s been thrown there. Jimin still hopes he didn’t land in hell. He’s way too good for that.

Jimin’s starting to feel tired, the coldness turned into numbness and he’s not sure his leg are here, because he doesn’t feel them anymore. Taehyung stopped walking around the house and Jimin wonders if he fell asleep. What time is it? It’s late. Could be morning too. Jimin doesn’t know anymore. How long has he been in that house? The lights are off so it must be nighttime, but maybe did Taehyung draw the curtains to cut the lights off, and it’s 2 PM.

He must fall asleep at some point, because he’s suddenly woken up by the door opening and a silhouette appearing at the doorframe. Jimin’s not sure if it’s a demon or any mystic creature, the only thing he knows is that he struggles to keep his eyes open. How long did he sleep? And that cold wind when the silhouette opened the door, it sent chills all over Jimin’s body.

“I brought something for you.”

Jimin needs time to react, straighten up and with the help of the wet wall next to him, stand up on wobbly feet.


“Shut up. Dogs don’t talk.”

Jimin wants to be surprised, but his brain needs time to understand what Taehyung just said. He’d love to answer, snap at the other and tell him he’s not a dog, but he’s cold, and he just wants to be held in a warm embrace. When Taehyung steps closer, Jimin almost throws his arms around the other.

Taehyung is holding something in his hand, a choker? Jimin looks at it, eyes narrowed. The room is still bathing in darkness and Jimin is not sure of what he sees.

“On all four.”

Jimin needs time processing the command. His eyes going wide when he finally gets it. And Taehyung is losing patience, because he grabs the other by a fistful of hair to push him down on the floor.

“Too dumb, even as a stupid dog, to obey?”

Jimin shakes his head, or at least tries to, because the hold Taehyung has on his scalp hurts every time he moves. He does let go at some point, to take what he dropped on the floor. A choker, Jimin is sure now. Is he going to have to walk on all four for the rest of his life?

“If you’re good, I’ll buy you dresses again. Don’t destroy them please.”

If Jimin forgot where he was for a second, it all came back to him way harder than he would’ve liked. Taehyung is standing in front of him, and if he wanted to make him suck his cock, Jimin wouldn’t have much choice. Now, does Taehyung want it? Probably, but not now. Not when Jimin isn’t being as pliant as what Taehyung wishes. He has so much more to learn.

“Look, as you need to start from the beginning, I bought a collar for you. You can be a dog, right? Are you clever enough?”

Be it survival instinct or dumbness, but Jimin nods harder, hair bouncing. Taehyung let go of his hair and the relief Jimin feels almost makes him smile. Taehyung kneels in front on his victim and for the short moment where Taehyung is closer to him, Jimin can smell perfume on his skin. It smells good in the mustiness of the room, and Jimin almost breathes a lungful of that scent.

“I’ll buy you perfume too, if you’re good.”

Jimin’s cheeks turn red and he looks away as Taehyung puts the collar around his neck. He doesn’t know what to think about it. Taehyung seems so genuinely nice but so cruel at the same time, and Jimin is starting to feel lost. Only starting, because he didn’t think Taehyung was good before. Or maybe he just didn’t want to admit it.

“You don’t see it well, but it’s a light blue collar, and there’s a tiny bell. It’s cute.”

In any other situation Jimin would’ve been ashamed, but he’s been ashamed since he had to wear dresses, so a collar is nothing. He just hums, moving a bit to hear the little sound.

“I hope you take care of it.”

Hear: if you don’t, I’m going to cut your throat. Jimin nods, again. He’s been nodding since the beginning of that hell and he wonders if he still knows how to shake his head in the other direction.

Taehyung leaves the basement after that, abandoning Jimin to himself. Jimin who doesn’t even try to climb the stair and go out. Jimin who gave up already?




It’s annoying.


It’s really annoying.

Ding, ding

Taehyung said that Jimin had to keep that collar around his neck, but Jimin didn’t think it’d be so annoying. The bell can’t stop moving, each time he even just breathes too hard. Jimin hates it.

And he’s cold. Jimin is cold and he would do anything, even wear dumb dresses, to not freeze to death in the bottom of a house.

He wants to call Taehyung, tell him how good he’ll be if he takes that damn collar off his neck, but he ignores how Taehyung would even react to his name being called. Jimin knows Taehyung thinks he’s dumb. He’s not dumb, he knows how to wear dresses, it was an accident.




The basement door opens again, a few hours, days later, and Taehyung comes back again. Jimin lost his marks, he ignores what day it is and he can only ask Taehyung, which he doesn’t do because he’s still scared. And Taehyung never told him he could speak. He’s too dumb for that. He’s not dumb.

Taehyung walks down the stairs until he’s standing in front of Jimin again. Jimin who, this time, is standing up a bit more surely, legs not trembling as much as they were a few hours (days?) ago.

“Are you hungry?”

Jimin can’t lie, because when he hears the word “hungry”, at that exact moment, his body manifests itself and a rumbling sound can be heard in the whole house probably. Taehyung laughs and Jimin’s even less sure about the cruelty in Taehyung’s behavior.

The bowl he puts on the floor and the way he hits Jimin’s calves to makes him drop on the floor erase every nice thoughts Jimin had about him.

“You’re a dog, remember? Too stupid to even do that properly? Do I need to force you down?”

Jimin drops on all four, head hung low and bell ringing again, like a sweet torture to his ears.

Taehyung drops on his knees near him, grabs him by a fistful of hair to pull his head back. His piercing gaze making something twist inside Jimin. Nothing pleasant.

“Remember, dumb shit. You’re a dog, as you’re too stupid to act like a human. Put that in your fucking brainless head.”

Jimin can only nod and let out a tiny bark, hoping to calm the raging fire dancing in Taehyung’s eyes. It seems to word because Taehyung’s gaze instantly softens.

“Good boy. Now eat.”

Jimin looks down at the bowl that has been placed in front of him, only to see something that doesn’t look like anything. Meat? Chemical experience? Potatoes? And it smells…bad? Not bad as non-consumable, but as not made for humans. Jimin looks up at Taehyung with a confused expression, and Taehyung just beckons him to eat with a sign of his head. Jimin is about, as any human with a brain, to use his hands to eat, but he suddenly remembers that he’s a dog. Taehyung said so, and he doesn’t want to upset him. He dives face first in the weird mixture.

It’s only when he tastes it that he knows. He saw that weird mixture, those soft cubes, on TV a lot of times. Dog food. Taehyung gave him dog food. It doesn’t taste good and Jimin’s probably going to be sick, but Taehyung’s watching him and Jimin does his best to stay a good boy. He can ignore the way his stomach fights against the intrusion. He can be too dumb to understand what he eats.

“Is it good? I chose the best dog food, just for you.”

There’s a pause, the words hovering in the empty room for a few seconds.

“What do you say?”

Jimin knows it’s a trap. Dogs don’t talk, and Taehyung is testing his capacity at being a good dog. Jimin is a good dog. He’s a good human too. He’s not stupid!


Taehyung ruffles Jimin’s hair, a big smile appearing on his lips.

“My good boy.”

And as fake as the attention is, as naked as Jimin is, with that collar and that stupid bell ringing each time he moves, Jimin can’t keep the warm feeling spreading in his chest. The feeling of being taken care of.

He’s a good boy.




“Everyone deserves second chances, Jimin, even dumb people like you, right?”

Taehyung says as he pulls on the leash attached to Jimin’s collar. Jimin doesn’t even dare walk on two feet, he doesn’t dare say a word and just answers in tiny barks or whines. Taehyung seems to appreciate that and Jimin holds onto the pats he gets on the head, or the praises he hears.

“You’re too stupid to walk, right? If I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t know how to go from a room to another. Be glad I’m helping you.”

Jimin nods, he knows it’s not true, but he still nods. The collar is starting to leave a red mark around his neck, but dogs can’t take it off, and they can surely not say when something is wrong. They don’t speak.

“Should we try something more adequate for you? A harness? Or do you want to try the dresses again?”

Taehyung waits a bit, Jimin stays silent.

“We’ll try the dresses, and maybe put a harness over it? That’s a good idea. I must have short dresses, wait here!”

And Jimin waits, sitting on his heels, like the good d-boy he is. Like the good boy he is.

Taehyung comes back after a bit with a pink dress and a black harness. He sits down next to Jimin, puts the harness on a side and shows the dress to Jimin.

“It’s pretty. Suits you. You’re only good at being pretty.”

Jimin knows Taehyung doesn’t await any answer, so he doesn’t give any answer.

Taehyung helps him put the dress on, looks at the way it underlines Jimin’s curves, the way it fits just right, as if Jimin was made to wear it. Of course, he was.

“Let’s put the harness now, my little pretty dog.”

Jimin just stays on all four, doesn’t move unless Taehyung moves him, and with that, the harness is tightened around his body. It goes around his shoulders, his chest and his waist, like a dog’s harness does. It’s leather, probably expensive and hand-made just for him. Jimin wouldn’t be surprised. He may have seen diamonds on his collar.

“You’re so pretty, Jimin. Look, even if you’re dumb, your prettiness saves you.”

Jimin is not dumb. He’s a very clever d-boy…man. He’s a very clever man.

Taehyung pulls on the leash and they walk to the living room.




The movie Taehyung is watching is starting to be long and boring, and staying on his knees for such a long time is starting to be really painful. Jimin wants to stretch, stand up, walk for a little moment, but he can’t. First because unless he teaches dogs how to walk on two, he’ll never be able to do it, second, because Taehyung would probably break his ankles, so he doesn’t have a choice. And he can’t speak. He can’t tell Taehyung that his knees hurt, that he almost doesn’t feel his feet anymore. He can only bark.

“Jimin. It’s not really a dog’s name, right? Let’s call you Pup. Puppy? Dumby? Dumby sounds perfect for you, right?”

It does. Not. Not. It does not. Jimin is not a dumb person. He’s a very clever do-boy. He’s a very clever man. He’s not a dumb person.


“Yeah, I thought so too. Dumby really sounds cool.”

Jimin would do anything for that little pat on the head. Change his name, if Taehyung is satisfied with the new one. He can be named Dumby. He can be named anything, he knows who he is.

He’s Jimin, and he’s a good dog. Boy. He’s a good boy.




Jimin’s been thrown back in the basement for the night, and it’s going to be so for at least a month, until Taehyung has had enough, and until the dress can’t hide the way Jimin’s skin became paler, the way he always gets scratches from the rough surface of the basement floor, and that Jimin gave up on all humanity he had in him.

Taehyung grows tired of the barks, the bell, everything. It’s quite boring after a time. So, he decides to teach Jimin how to be a good human once again. Or at least try.

It’s the middle of the night when he wakes him up to pull him out of the basement and bring him to his first room. Jimin is still half-asleep, and he groans, whines leaving his mouth every now and then.

“You’re going to be a good human again. I’ll teach you how. You’re still too dumb to think by yourself but I’ll help you.”

Jimin nods, eyes slowly opening a bit more, and he looks up to see Taehyung smiling at him. Jimin smiles back.

“Tell me how good you will be with words.”

Jimin stays silent for a while, as if he needed to collect all the words he knew to form a sentence.

“I’ll be good.”

His voice is a hush, and Taehyung almost doesn’t hear it, but he’s happy to see that Jimin has been molded. He’s been molded enough to obey to whatever Taehyung decides to make out of him.




Walking. Relearning how to walk is harder than expected. Jimin never thought he’d have to learn that basic thing again, but his legs keep trembling when he tries to step forward. He’s thankful Taehyung is here, or he’d have tripped a lot of times.

Every time his legs give up, Taehyung holds him against his body, smiling fondly.

“Don’t force yourself, you’re doing perfect.”

And Jimin feels bad for being so weak, he feels bad for needing help. He feels bad for having butterflies in his stomach each time Taehyung praises him.

He pulls on Taehyung’s shoulders again, standing up straight and forcing his legs to fucking walk and stop being such weak individuals. He really needs to please Taehyung; he needs to be good.

They walk through the living room a lot of times, Taehyung keeps praising Jimin when he makes more than three steps, never lets him fall on the ground. He’s too precious. Jimin looks at him expectantly, almost unsure.

“Can…Will I be able to walk?”

It’s been so long, his voice is still just a whisper, and Taehyung ignores if it will ever change. He’s still hesitant about his words, as if he forgot how to roll his tongue to create different sounds.

“Have I ever let you down?”

To that Jimin can only shake his head. Jimin has always been treated with utter care, right? He’s always been dressed prettily when he was being good and punished when he was being bad. That’s the right thing to do.

“Look, we crossed the room.”

Jimin looks behind him to see that yes, he did cross the room just holding Taehyung’s hands. He feels like the first time he was able to walk, almost remembers when he first learned how to walk. His legs are still weak, and he can’t move without Taehyung’s help, but he did it!

“I did it!”

A beaming smile, Taehyung is met with a full-teeth smile and he suddenly wants to kiss Jimin. Make him his, even just as a toy.

“You wouldn’t have done it without me.”

Jimin doesn’t even question the veracity of what Taehyung says because he’s already nodding, thanking him for his help, even though everything was basically Taehyung’s fault to begin with.




Jimin forgot his old life. It’s still there, somewhere in his brain, but it’s an ancient memory, as clear as a dream. He knows it existed, but he doesn’t feel like it’s a part of himself anymore. It’s the tale of a man who once was free and is now unfettered. Jimin remembers a time where he didn’t live in that house, a time where Taehyung was still just “the popular guy”. It seems so far away, so unreal. He remembers the time where he didn’t wear those pretty dresses, covered in pearls and diamonds, luxury, overwhelming luxury. Taehyung trusts him enough to let him wear that, and Jimin feels thankful. He’s thankful Taehyung is here. He’s even sitting on a throne, a real one, that Taehyung had bought a few days ago.

“It’s everything you need. Just be pretty.”

Jimin is good at being pretty, he just has to sit here, and never would he doubt any choice Taehyung made. He knows better.

“Remember, Jimin, that you're worth nothing. Even if I doubt your dumb brainless head can.”

It’s become Jimin’s everyday life. He hears it at least once a day, if not more. Taehyung says it as if he was praising Jimin. Praising him for being an idiot, conditioning him to breathe it in, as if it was his new oxygen.

Taehyung kneels in front of the throne, where Jimin is sitting still, eyes always looking at that same spot. Jimin who doesn’t do anything without Taehyung’s help, because he’s too dumb to do it alone. Jimin who just stays here, like a doll. Taehyung was nice enough to stop with the dog’s name and go back to calling him Jimin. It’s prettier anyway.

“Let’s go take a bath. I prepared everything.”

Jimin nods absentmindedly, and Taehyung lifts him up from his seat. Jimin can walk, they always walk a bit together, if someone ever came home. Not that anybody would.

The first thing Jimin notices is that the bathroom smells like Taehyung’s perfume, and there’s a sense of safety that washes over him. The bath is pretty, black petals and red water. It’s…sickly pretty. Taehyung undresses Jimin and the latter doesn’t even try to hide his nudity, just stays here obediently until Taehyung brings him inside the hot water. It’s almost too much, too hot. Jimin doesn’t complain, he’s too dumb to complain.

The first time they took baths together, Jimin tried to grab the soap by himself, only to have Taehyung take it from here, not without reminding him that he was too much of an idiot to wash himself properly. Now, Jimin got used to having everything done for him, and he doesn’t even cringe when Taehyung steps in the water behind him. He just makes room for Taehyung to sit behind him.

“What scent do you want for tonight?”

Jimin turns his head to look at the three bottles standing on a little shelf, opting for the lemon scented soap this time. Taehyung hums and grabs the bottle, squeezing a little amount on a washcloth. Jimin can’t stay up on such a slippery surface, so Taehyung does everything underwater, for most parts. Scrubs Jimin’s skin until it’s bloodshot, and it stings but Jimin stays silent. Mute.

Taehyung washes each part of Jimin’s body, even the most intimate, and Jimin closes his eyes, body leaning against Taehyung’s. Always that same scent filling his brain, making him dizzy, secure.

“Don’t fall asleep, you need to go back on the throne after that.”

Oh, yes. Sleeping. Jimin doesn’t remember a time where he slept properly. The basement wasn’t the best place for a good night sleep and sitting on the throne isn’t the best position either. Taehyung knows it, he’s seen Jimin fall asleep on the seat and wake up with horrible neck pains. But Jimin should just get used to it, he can be good, right?

“I’m awake.”

Jimin’s voice is a bit less hushed, but it’s still nothing like it was before, and Taehyung prefers it like that. It fits Jimin, it fits the pretty dresses, the frail silhouette. It fits how Taehyung has seen him since the beginning. Just a pretty creature for him to use, a luxurious decoration.

Taehyung stands up when Jimin’s body starts going lax. He’s exhausted. Taehyung won’t let him sleep properly. Not yet. He dries Jimin off, sits him down on a little marble seat next to the bathtub and rubs cream all over his body. Jimin keeps yawning, the bath making wonders (or horrible things) to his body, and he’s relaxed. He’s always relaxed after a bath, and that makes the reality harder, when the bathroom door suddenly opens when he’s still naked, and cold air runs into the room. Taehyung wears a bathrobe, silky, but Jimin is still naked.

“I said, don’t fall asleep.”

Jimin opens his eyes, didn’t even notice he closed them, and looks up at Taehyung. He looks upset. Jimin doesn’t like to upset. When Taehyung kneels once again in front of him, as if he was a four years old child, Jimin bites at his bottom lip to keep himself from yawning again. Taehyung has both hands on Jimin’s thighs and his thumbs stroke the soft skin. Jimin is not that hairy, but perfection asked for a full wax shaving occasionally. Jimin hates how it hurts. Taehyung smiles up to the tired boy. Smiles at how easy it will be, to put things in his head.

“Jimin, tell me. Why do we sleep?”

“So that the brain can rest.”

Taehyung nods, scratches Jimin’s skin with his nails this time, and Jimin’s body jumps a bit.

“Tell me, Jimin, do you have a brain?”

Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung told him so many times that he was brainless, so it became a reality.

“So, do you need to sleep?”

Again, Jimin’s answer is negative and Taehyung stands up, satisfied.

“Stay here, I’ll pick up a dress for you.”

The dress Taehyung chooses is white, transparent, and Jimin is pretty sure it’s done on purpose. Taehyung dresses him up, the soft fabric feeling so good against Jimin’s skin, and the feeling of utter cleanness has Jimin almost moan. He feels good, Taehyung made him feel good.

The night is still, Jimin ends up falling asleep on his sit. He wakes up with a dull pain in his neck. Like always.




“Your hair has gotten quite long, Jimin.”

It’s true, it’s at his eyes level and it’s pretty annoying to have to move it every time. Jimin nods as Taehyung runs his hand in the brown strands.

“We should probably cut it. Should we?”

Another nod from Jimin, a tiny yes leaving his lips too.

“Let me call a friend, he’s good with scissors. Better than me.”

It needs at least ten seconds before the information reaches Jimin’s brain, and another ten seconds for him to understand. Someone is coming. It means that he can ask for h- it means that he has to act normal. He must act as if Taehyung was his friend, boyfriend? What does he need to do? Taehyung will tell him, right?

Taehyung, Jimin can hear him talk on the phone with someone, probably the said friend.

“You can be hear in an…two hours? Yeah…hm, I’ll pay you…No, stop making things for free you know I can pay you…yeah. Yeah, see you then.”

Jimin would lie if he knew Taehyung had friends. Who would want to be f- who wouldn’t want to be friend with him?

“He’s coming in two hours. We have time to prepare, right Jimin?”


“Call me Tae, and stop being so rigid.”

Jimin nods again, and Taehyung pulls him out of his throne. Jimin almost stumbles over and crashes into the wall but Taehyung catches him. He mutters a tiny “thank you” before standing up, but Taehyung doesn’t listen to him, just pulls him in a direction. The one where Jimin’s room is. The room where he slept at the very beginning.

“Sit down here.”

Jimin does, sits down obediently, like the good boy he is. Taehyung looks at him for a while, like a designer would look at his model to see which outfit would fit better.

He rummages through old clothes. Old but still luxurious, like everything in this room.


Taehyung looks up, a pair of black leather pants in a hand.


“Who was that?”

“A friend. His name’s Hoseok, he’s really nice.”

That’s all Jimin asks, and Taehyung only needs a few more minutes to find the perfect shirt. A white T-shirt that probably costed 200$ if the logo on it says something. Jimin wonders if Taehyung ever bought anything cheap, or if even his toilet paper is made of gold. Then, Jimin wonders why he’s wondering that.

“Let’s put that on, it’s less weird than that dress, right?”

Jimin ignores if Taehyung awaits any answer, so he just shrugs. To say that he’s confused by Taehyung’s sudden friendliness is an understatement. His brain is frying with the amount of new information it’s receiving.

“For you, I’m Tae, and we met at school. You’re a good friend and you came here for the first time today. I made the comment about your hair and told you I knew a person who could cut your hair for a good price. You accepted. You’re naturally shy, alright? So, you won’t talk too much. If he asks you something, try not to be dumb and answer properly. Any deviation will be punished. Understood?”

“Yes, Tae.”



Hours. Two hours to be precise. It’s not very much, but Jimin’s pants are itchy and he hates how the T-shirt clings to his torso. He just wants the dress back. He’s about to lose his mind when someone rings the doorbell. Jimin knows who he’s supposed to be, and he walks to the door with Taehyung, discreetly grabbing the latter’s shirt to have some support. He’s still not quite sure about his steps and falling in front on a stranger would be playing with fire.

The door opens on a pretty man, really, that’s Jimin’s first thought. Hoseok is pretty.

“Hey, who’s the victim for today?”

Taehyung turns to Jimin who smiles and waves a hand, letting go of Taehyung’s shirt to at least not look like he needs help walking. Although he does.

“Hi, my name’s Hoseok, I hope you’re fine. Don’t worry, I’m good at that, I won’t ruin your hair.”

Jimin doesn’t have time to answer that Hoseok is already turning to Taehyung.

“Bathroom? Or did you buy a new fancy faucet for hair washing?”

Taehyung points at the bathroom door, and Hoseok laughs a bit.

“Am I going to talk for two again? Or are you in a good day?”

“You talk so much that you’re taking the words out of my mouth.”

Taehyung laughs. And Jimin isn’t used to that. He’s just used to Taehyung either praising him with a soft smile or telling him how stupid he is with an even softer smile.

“What’s the haircut?”

“Shorter. I don’t care how. Not too short. Make him look pretty.”

Hoseok turns to Jimin, and Jimin almost chokes on his saliva.

“Y-yeah, I want to look pretty.”

“Al…right. Pretty. That’s not going to be too hard.”

Hoseok puts his bag on the marble seat where Jimin always sits after bath, and Jimin feels something in him being violated. Taehyung doesn’t even flinch, why would he care? Hoseok takes a pair of scissors out, a comb, and some hair claws. Jimin really likes going to the hairdresser but this feels different. He feels different. He feels like Hoseok is stepping on his private sphere and he doesn’t like it.

“Sit down on the floor, head back.”

Taehyung looks at Jimin, a look Jimin can feel pierce holes in his body. A warning. Jimin does as Hoseok says and sits down on the floor. The leather pants are way too tight in that position, and to add to the discomfort, the border of the bathtub hurts his neck. He’s been having neck pain since he sleep in a sitting position. Taehyung, again, doesn’t care for a bit, and Jimin knows that complaining will result in even bigger problems. And he has no rights to complain, Taehyung is offering him a really needed haircut. He should thank him.

“Thank you, Tae, for that.”

Jimin gestures to Hoseok, everything, and for a short instant Taehyung is surprised, eyes going slightly wider before he smiles.

“That’s nothing, Chim.”

Chim? That’s…cute.

“Ah, I wish I had friends like that…”

Hoseok sighs, running his fingers through Jimin’s hair to pull them back, and taking a hair claw to keep them together.

“So. I’ll cut the tips a bit, maybe around the ears and the fringe. How’s it sound?”

Taehyung is about to answer, but Jimin’s voice raises again.

“I like the idea. I trust you.”

Taehyung can see Hoseok smile and rummage in his bag again to take a water spray and spray…water on Jimin’s hair. It’s cold, Jimin would’ve complained in a real salon, but not here. He’s thankful he even has someone cutting his hair.

Once the hair is wet enough, Hoseok starts cutting. From the sound and the speed, it’s not his first time, and Jimin is relieved. At least, something good. His pants are still itchy, and he just wants to go back to his throne, but at least he’s not going to lose an ear in the bathroom. Taehyung comes closer, sits down on the bathtub borders and looks at the way Hoseok cuts Jimin’s hair.

“So, what’s new?”

Taehyung looks at Hoseok, the latter shrugs, combing Jimin’s hair.

“Well, I had that girl asking me out. Y’know, pretty and stuff, but I said no.”

Taehyung doesn’t ask why, and Jimin really wants to know why, but he shuts up.

“And that…what’s his name…Kim something, he moved in with his boyfriend. You should come out of your castle a bit more often, we kinda miss you.”

“I do come out.”

“Then call me when you do. And bring uh…”


“Bring Jimin with you.”

Jimin has difficulty swallowing, with his throat being constricted thanks to the position he’s in, so he ends up coughing.

“Hey, everything fine?”

Hoseok pushes Jimin’s head up, grabbing him by the hair and it reminds Jimin of how Taehyung would do that. He doesn’t like that it’s not Taehyung doing it.

“Yeah, sorry, wrong pipe?”

Jimin chuckles, but he feels bad.

Hoseok doesn’t really seem to pay attention to him anymore.

“Oh, and there’s that new shopping center that opened. God, I almost want to ask you to buy me those fucking Gucci shoes, the ones with diamonds on them.”

“I could.”

“I would feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“You would be taking advantage of me, poor victim that I would be under your spell.”

Jimin feels Taehyung’s gaze on him again. He’s half-listening, so he doesn’t quite catch the subtility of Taehyung’s words.

“Ah, you’re being too much again.”

Hoseok laughs. After a few moments he puts the scissors down.

“Alright. That part’s not going to be funny, you gotta tell Tae to buy a faucet for hair washing, Jimin. Head back please.”

“It’s almost done” Taehyung says.

Jimin nods, lets his head fall back a little more and closes his eyes. He feels warm water on his scalp a few seconds later and his body relaxes. It feels good. Sure, Taehyung washes his hair too, but Hoseok is really good at massaging, and that’s what he started to do. Jimin wishes his hair grew faster, just to have that little moment. If only he could wear dresses, because those pants are horrible, and he just wants to take them off.

Taehyung observes the way Hoseok’s fingers press against Jimin’s head in a way that has the other sigh pleasingly. He doesn’t want to hate it, doesn’t want to have a knot forming in his stomach. Hoseok, a friend of his, is touching his doll. Jimin will need another bath. He could make Hoseok stop, of course, but that would be way too weird considering they’re supposed to be just friends. Taehyung sees the way Jimin squirms in his pants, and that’s enough to make him smirk.

“Do you have any shampoo here?”

“No, I never wash my hair.”

Hoseok looks up at Taehyung with that “duh” look and Taehyung snorts.

“You ask stupid questions. It’s right next to you if you open your eyes.”

Hoseok looks next to him, and on the left side are two bottles.

“Wild roses and…peach. What do we go with?”

Jimin shrugs, looks at Taehyung for any advice, and seeing that Taehyung is not even paying attention to him, for once, he says.

“Whatever you prefer, Hoseok.”

Hoseok seems to think a bit, as Jimin can’t feel his hands on his scalp anymore, and after a while of silence.

“Wild roses, it smells good. Peach is a bit too much.”

Hoseok nods to himself and squeezes a little amount of the wild rose shampoo onto his palm, rubbing it a bit in between wet hands to make it foam. He then starts shampooing Jimin’s hair, rubbing all the dust out of his hair, making them smell good. Jimin could fall asleep here and now, ignore the sting in his neck and upper back and just let sleep wash over him.

A pain in his right ankle wakes him up and Jimin looks around. Hoseok is gone. He’s not in the bathroom anymore. Jimin is still dressed like before but his hair is dry. He can feel that water trickled down his shirt. Another reason for him to take it off. He looks up to see Taehyung, arms crossed, looking more than upset.

“How disrespectful of you to fall asleep. How can I treat you like a clever boy if you can’t be polite to strangers? Hoseok left, you didn’t even thank him properly for what he did for you.”

Taehyung grabs Jimin by his newly cut hair and lifts him up. Never has he done that, but Jimin guesses it’s his fault. He fell asleep, he didn’t say goodbye nor thank you to that nice guy. He deserves whatever Taehyung reserved for him.

“Let’s get you changed, brainless fool.”

Jimin lets a painful whine out, grabbing Taehyung’s wrist as he pulls him through the house to the bedroom, again. He’s almost thrown on the bed and Taehyung is soon searching for a fitting dress.

“As you don’t seem to be able to act like a fucking human, should I go back to treating you like a dog?”

Jimin shakes his head, it hurts his neck.

“N-no, I’ll be good, I’m sorry Tae- I’m sorry!”

“How did you just call me?”

Jimin doesn’t expect that slap against his cheek, and he surely doesn’t want it to ever happen again.

“Are you that dumb that you don’t know when to stop playing? And you need to sleep for what? Let your empty head have some rest?”

Taehyung chuckles, and Jimin looks down, ashamed. Ashamed of having reactions.

Taehyung picks a black dress, a ballgown from what Jimin sees, and Jimin is soon changed into the new piece of clothing.

“Now, you can go back to what you do best. Be pretty.”

Jimin is brought back to his throne, his new haircut freeing his face and making him looks younger, maybe. Thinner, definitely. Jimin is good at being pretty, and Taehyung knows best.




“See, you’re even too dumb to eat properly by yourself. It’s really a good thing that I’m helping you.”

Jimin nods, opening his mouth when a spoonful of rice comes his way. Sure, he’s big enough to eat alone, was big enough to do so but…Taehyung decided that Jimin was too stupid to do so. Jimin wasn’t holding the spoon properly, he wasn’t bringing it to his mouth with the right angle, and after days of belittling, Jimin ended up giving up, believing what Taehyung said. He’s too dumb to eat properly.

“What would you do without me, Jimin?”

It’s a rhetorical question, Jimin knows, because a few seconds later Taehyung continues.

“You’d be starving, your brainless head unable to understand how food is eaten, right? You’d stand in the kitchen without knowing what to do. You’d do nothing without me, Jimin. You’d be nothing.”

Jimin listens, it’s carved in his mind. Taehyung is carved in his mind.

“I’m nothing without you.”

Taehyung smiles, runs his fingers through Jimin’s hair in a soft praising way.

“That’s it, Jimin. You’re nothing without me.”



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Chapter Text

Hoseok knows something was wrong in that house. His guts told him. He knows Taehyung. Well, knowing is maybe a bit too much. He saw Taehyung a few times, made things for him for money. Taehyung is pretty rich. He’s too rich. But Taehyung never ever brought anyone home, and Jimin didn’t look at ease. He looked uncomfortable. Hoseok speaks a lot, but he knows when to shut up and observe.

Jimin didn’t look like he belonged here, and maybe Hoseok is just being paranoid, but he has to be sure. He needs to know.




“Open your mouth, Jimin. Be good for me.”

Jimin’s still sitting on his throne, Taehyung kneeled in front of him. His mouth opens automatically, eyes focused on Taehyung’s features.


Taehyung pushes pieces of bread in Jimin’s mouth, deep enough that he almost chokes on it and drool runs on his chin. Taehyung knows it’s his fault, but he finds a way to make Jimin think he did it, simply because he’s too dumb to eat properly.

“Look at the mess you’re doing…Your dress will be ruined if you keep eating like such a pig.”

Jimin coughs, pieces of bread flying out of his mouth and on the dress.

“I’m s-sorry!”

Taehyung sighs, running his fingers through Jimin’s hair.

“I know, it’s not your fault. You’re just too dumb for that. Was bread too much?”

Jimin shakes his head, but all he gets is a fond smile as Taehyung puts the plate down.

“It’s so brave of you to try to be a good boy, but you know, we can try something a bit easier to eat. What about baby food?”

Has Jimin any choice about that? Not really. He just sits there silently as Taehyung stands up.

“Hm…How about you come with me outside, this time?”

Jimin’s about to say no, but Taehyung’s staring at his legs, his not soft anymore legs.

“Wait, we can’t bring you outside looking like that. People will think you’re a disgusting doll.”

Jimin knows what’s coming, and he’s not sure he’s ready for that.

“It’s time for some waxing, Jimin. Go in the bathroom, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Jimin scrambles himself on two wobbling feet, almost stepping on his dress and runs to the bathroom, opening the door and sitting on that little marble seat that’s his. It’s cold, but he can’t feel it through the dress. He lifts the fabric up to see his legs. Maybe it won’t hurt that much, the hair doesn’t seem to be that long.

Jimin jumps when he hears Taehyung come in, looking up to a smiling man.

“Look at you, almost perfect…but your legs are ruining it. We should wax everything. Let’s wax everything.”

Jimin wants to refuse, wants to run away, but for what? Taehyung’s just helping him, he’s right. It doesn’t look good to be hairy while wearing dresses. The idea that Jimin isn’t supposed to wear dresses doesn’t once cross his mind.

“Let me help you take that dress off.”

Jimin hums, standing up and turning around to give Taehyung the opportunity to open his dress, letting it fall down his naked body. He’s not as embarrassed as he was a few weeks ago, but he still feels a blush creeping up his neck when he feels Taehyung’s eyes on him.

“I’ll prepare the bath. Be nice, and just look pretty like you do best.”

Jimin nods, sitting back down on the marble seat, which this time feels cold on his skin. It was weird at first, to just sit down and not move, act literally like a doll someone would’ve put there to play with later, but Jimin got used to it. As used as he could while feeling his limbs slowly freeze in their position, pain making itself know when Jimin sat in the same position for too long.  Spine screaming for release, but all Jimin could do was stay still until Taehyung told him to move. Like the good d- boy he is.

The bath is ready in about thirty minutes, Taehyung making sure it’s boiling hot, adding salts and a golden bath bomb. Jimin almost beams at how pretty it looks, but he knows he can’t move. He’s just here to be pretty, like Taehyung said.

“Come here, Jimin.”

Jimin stands up, doesn’t dare stretch his limbs, too afraid Taehyung would say something. He feels stiff, but he still smiles, approaching the man.

“I’m here.”

“Good. Can you please go grab the wax? I forgot it.”

It’s a big lie, and Jimin knows it. He sees it. It’s right in front of him, but still, he nods and turns around, leaving the bathroom to look for something he knows he won’t find.

Still, he feels bad when he comes back empty handed, looking at Taehyung with so much shame it burns. Taehyung looks at him with that same fond smile, again.

“You didn’t see it was here already? Ah, I should’ve known you were too dumb to open your eyes.”

“I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t be, I understand. You’re just a doll, I shouldn’t ask so much from you. Please forgive me.”

Jimin wants to tell Taehyung he’d forgive him anything, because he knows it’s all his own fault for being so stupid.

“Now, now, let’s talk about something else. Please go lay down, you know where.”

Jimin hums, walks to one corner of the bathroom, that’s probably bigger than his old apartment, but that Jimin wouldn’t know, he hasn’t been there for so long. He takes the treatment bed Taehyung bought, hell knows when, and pulls it in the middle of the room. It’s big enough to take half of the space, but it’s nicely stocked in a…room juxtaposed to the bathroom. Jimin’s not sure how many secret rooms Taehyung has. Probably a lot, knowing how many things he takes from nowhere.

“Good. You’re at least good at something. Lay down on it.”

Jimin is so good at obeying, at reacting to Taehyung’s voice. He lies down on the bed, on his back first, looking at Taehyung for a second before looking away. Taehyung preparing the wax, and the smell filling the room. Jimin isn’t used to that smell, he knows it means pain.

The bath water is probably warm, now.

The first strip of wax landing on his leg surprises him a bit, but he tries not to flinch. Or flinch as little as possible. Still, Taehyung notices it but doesn’t say anything. He’s too nice.

It’s not the first time Jimin does that, but it still hurts and reminds him how human he still is. Taehyung isn’t gentle, keeps ripping the paper bands like he’s trying to take Jimin’s skin with it, leaving the areas red and stinging.

His skin is smooth after a while, still burning in some areas, but smooth. Taehyung waxed the entirety of Jimin’s body and Jimin feels like he’s on fire. But he doesn’t complain, he can’t.

“Let’s get you cleaned now, and you’ll look so pretty to go out.”

Jimin stands up, making his way to the bathtub, the water now cold but still shimmering with golden dust. Jimin feels a smile tug at his lips. It’s pretty, just for him. Sure, the water isn’t warm anymore, but it’s pretty. Taehyung made it pretty for him.

Jimin steps in the bathtub, soft skin feeling weird in the water, but the water helping the pain go down. It takes Jimin a minute to enter in the bath. Taehyung is waiting patiently.

“Now, we need to scrub all that dirt off of you.”

Jimin doesn’t really react, just let’s Taehyung do his job, because he surely knows better. Jimin’s way too dumb to know how to wash himself.




Hoseok and Seokjin are both sitting around Hoseok’s kitchen table, Hoseok almost tearing his hair out trying to explain the unexplainable.

“I swear there’s something off in that house.”

Hoseok’s trying to explain how off the atmosphere was, how fake it seemed, but everything was normal. He was just doing his job. It was a feeling, not a fact.

“How was it off?”

“I don’t know, first Taehyung never spoke to me about having anyone home-”

“He’s like that. Remember when he had a girlfriend, and nobody knew until one day he decided to tell us? He’s good at hiding things.”

Hoseok nods, Seokjin may be right, but he may be wrong.

“It wasn’t…I mean you just need to come and see, but how do I make them invite me? They have no reason…or wait. I can call Taehyung and ask him to grab a coffee somewhere? It’s a good idea, right?”

Seokjin shrugs.

“Doesn’t hurt to try.”

Hoseok hesitates only a second before typing Taehyung’s number on his phone, turning the speaker mode on so Seokjin could hear.

It rings for quite a long time before Taehyung picks up.

“Yeah? Hoseok? Why are you calling?”

“Hum, I wanted to know if you wanted to grab something to drink with me, and I’m bringing a friend, if that’s alright?”

The line stays silent for a while, and Hoseok tries to listen hard to hear even a tiny scream. He’s sure Jimin is encaged somewhere in a basement.

“Jimin, what do you say about going out with Hoseok? You remember him, right? He cut your hair.”

“I mean, why not.”

Is Jimin’s only answer. It doesn’t sound wrong, really, it’s just an answer, but with what Hoseok saw at their house, he can’t stop himself from thinking it’s too automatic. Almost as if Taehyung pressed on a button and Jimin started talking.

“You heard, Seok. What time?”

Hoseok’s frozen, takes a few seconds before answering.



“Yeah, yeah…sorry I was doing something. So, let’s say tonight…at nine? Meet me at my house, we’ll find somewhere to go.”

Hoseok ends the call before his trembling expiration betrays him.




“Ah, Jimin, such a good boy, played so well for me.”

Jimin beams under Taehyung’s pettings, his fingers through Jimin’s hair, and his fond smile to the doll.

Jimin just hums, closing his eyes and smiling. The burning pain from the waxing is slowly fading, and Taehyung was about to put him back in one of his favorite dress, but now he’ll have to wear jeans again, or shorts. Knowing they’re going out, Taehyung said jeans would be more suitable. Jimin honestly forgot what it feels like to wear pants.

“We’re meeting Hoseok. You know the scenario, right?”

“We met at school, I’m shy so I don’t speak much, and any deviation will be punished.”

“And you moved in with me as a roommate.”

“And I moved in with you as a roommate.”

Taehyung smiles, satisfied.

“How do you call me?”

“I call you Tae.”

Taehyung’s smile gets bigger and he ruffles Jimin’s hair in a praising way.

“Good boy.”

Taehyung checks the time, Jimin slowly starting to freeze, naked on his marble seat.

“We have time. What about we choose some clothes for tonight?”

Jimin nods, waiting for Taehyung’s permission to stand up. He can’t think by himself.

“Come on doll, let’s go.”


Taehyung nods, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Suits you. Now, let’s pick some clothes. What was your style before?”

Jimin doesn’t really remember how he dressed before, his mind is full of pretty dresses and high heels.

“I…I don’t know…”

“We had a uniform at school so…we’re not putting that.”

Jimin wants to ask if Taehyung kept his school uniform, but he feels a pang in his chest just thinking about it, so he stays silent.

“Black jeans and a white t-shirt. That will do for you. I think I saw you like that a few times, a time ago.”

Jimin is almost offended at how Taehyung speaks about the free him like it was some fairy tale or old legend. He doesn’t know what, but something tugs at his heart like an old memory, something imprinted in him, but that he can’t quite grab. A concept he forgot.

Taehyung picks black jeans and a white t-shirt in Jimin’s wardrobe, the one in that room he woke up in the first night, or day. He still doesn’t really know if it’s day or night, as the curtains are never open, unless someone comes home.

Taehyung throws the clothes on the bed, Jimin looking at them like it’s something he never saw.

“That will do. Come here.”

With the clothes he grabs some briefs and beckons a still naked Jimin closer to him after sitting on the bed.


Jimin lifts one leg and puts in the hole in the briefs, like a kid would do, supporting himself on Taehyung’s shoulders.

“Other leg.”

It’s a movement he’s used to, because he puts most of his dresses like that. Or Taehyung puts him in them.

It’s the same with the black jeans, and Jimin already wants to cry. It’s too tight, it rubs on his skin, everywhere, like it’s trying to imprison him. He whines as quietly as possible, feels tears prick at the corner of his eyes.

“Don’t cry now, doll. It will be alright.”

“D-don’t like…don’t like…”

Taehyung smiles sadly, puts the shirt on Jimin and stands up to wipe Jimin’s tears.

“Hey, you know what will happen if you don’t play your role properly, don’t you?”

Jimin nods, jumping on his spot.

“B-but it hurts…it’s itchy I don’t like it!”

The slap flies from itself, landing on Jimin’s cheek with a hard sound, stopping Jimin in all his complaining.

“I said, do you know what happens if you don’t behave?”

“I-I get punished…I get…thrown in the basement like the…first time I misbehaved.”

“Good, now stop acting like a kid and let’s go.”




Hoseok and Seokjin are waiting in front of Hoseok’s house, where they said they would meet. Hoseok’s still worried about being right, hopes he’s so wrong it would be funny. He really hopes that.

“What if I’m right? What if something’s wrong? What do we do?”

“Don’t make assumptions before seeing. Maybe you just misunderstood something.”

“I hope you’re right.”

They wait ten more minutes before Taehyung and Jimin appear, smiling and talking together like old friends. Hoseok wishes he could understand. Even from there, he feels something is off. Or maybe he’s just scared something is.


Taehyung almost runs to them, Jimin following behind. Hoseok smiles.

“Hi Tae. You seem happy.”

Taehyung hums; smile not leaving his face.

“I…relaxed a bit before coming here.”

Make up does great things. Jimin’s lucky it’s not visible, but it still hurts a lot. He hopes it doesn’t show.

“Here’s Seokjin, the friend I talked about.”

Hoseok mentions, vaguely showing with a hand, and Taehyung nods. Jimin’s looking at Seokjin like a kid looking at a stranger. He knows Hoseok, but he doesn’t know anything about that Seokjin, and that scares him.

“That’s Jimin, he’s a bit shy. Jimin?”

Jimin looks at Taehyung, blinking.

“Sorry, I was…lost.”


Taehyung grabs Jimin by the arm, tightening his grip a little bit too much, and Jimin keeps a smile on his face, as much as it hurts, both the arm and his jaw.

“-let’s go?”

Hoseok and Seokjin look at each other, shrugging. Hoseok hopes it’s as clear to Jimin as it is to him.

“I found that coffee shop not to far away, so I thought we could go there,” Hoseok suggests.

They all agree, it’s a ten-minute walk, enough to see Jimin squirm a bit in his pants, enough to see the way Taehyung grabs him, knuckles turning white with how tight he’s holding Jimin’s arm, but Hoseok doesn’t watch for too long. Maybe he’s just imagining it. It’s dark, after all.

They stop in front of a cosy coffee shop, or more a restaurant where they’ll be able to grab some drinks, and coffee for who wants. Hoseok’s the first to enter, holding the door, just to see if he was right, but he doesn’t see anything. Jimin’s acting normally, isn’t squirming anymore, and Taehyung’s simply holding his hand. Was Hoseok wrong all this time? Did he worry for nothing?

“Let’s sit here, it’s nice.”

Taehyung shows them a table near the window, and Hoseok’s silent accusations slowly collapse on themselves. Why would Taehyung sit where everybody can see them if something was wrong? But then, is he sitting there because he wants people to think nothing is wrong? Hoseok’s brain is fuming.

“What are you drinking?” Seokjin asks,

and Jimin still stares at him for a second, as if snakes came out of his mouth.

“I’ll take a glass wine. Or the whole bottle. Let’s see what they have.”

“Right, Hoseok told me how loaded you were. How big is your house?” Seokjin asks, body leaning forward.

“Bigger than yours. I’ll send you pictures, or you can drop by once. Just tell me before so I prepare something.”

Taehyung is just too nonchalant, and it’s weird. Jimin’s looking lost next to him, the picture almost funny.

“And you Jimin? Are you living with Tae?”

“Yes, he took me in because I didn’t…I wasn’t able to find somewhere to live in.”

“And I didn’t tell Hoseok because I knew he’d do a scoop out of it, but we’re actually dating.”

Surprise crosses Jimin’s eyes for a second, but he’s fast to enter his role, and if Hoseok was confused, he’s hysteric right now. How could he be so wrong?

And as if to prove his point, Taehyung holds Jimin’s chin, turning his head in his direction to softly kiss his lips. Jimin feels a chill run down his spine, something almost pleasurable, and he closes his eyes before he can stop himself.

The kiss ends way too fast.

“Well, we didn’t need to see it, I mean there’s no reason we wouldn’t believe you, but it was cute.”

Hoseok turns to Seokjin, almost indignant, but what could he say now?

“But look at how red he gets when I kiss him, it’s just too cute you had to see.”

Jimin doesn’t even know how to react. It’s just so sudden, and now his jaw hurts again.

“So, we still didn’t decide what we’d drink.”

Hoseok decides to end that path of discussion here, not sure he’ll keep his act together if they continue.

“I’m actually going to the bathroom, just take whatever wine, or anything you want for me,” Hoseok gives up.

Taehyung’s overconfidence is killing him. Hoseok fucking knows something is wrong.

“We’ll take a bottle for the four of us.”

Seokjin sees the despair on Hoseok’s face but doesn’t see the problem with Taehyung and Jimin. Maybe he’s not looking hard enough.

“I’ll check on him to see if he’s alright. He didn’t feel well today,” he says while standing up.

Taehyung nods, understanding, and as soon as Seokjin’s out of view, he turns to Jimin, slowly stroking his wounded cheek.

“Doll, don’t think this kiss meant anything, right? You’re still nothing without me, but it doesn’t mean that you mean anything to me.”

Jimin nods, as painful as those words are, and Taehyung kisses his forehead, and his lips again. Kisses that don’t mean anything. Jimin knows, but his heart still beats a bit faster.

Seokjin opens the bathroom door, only to see Hoseok standing in front of the mirrors, looking at himself and taking deep breaths.

“Am I that dumb? I swear…there’s something wrong, I can’t be just imagining it…”

Seokjin comes closer; standing behind Hoseok and putting his hands on his shoulders.

“Maybe you were just tired back then, maybe they were having a bad day, maybe they needed to sort things out? There are so many possibilities.”

Hoseok hums, head falling back on Seokjin’s shoulder as the latter starts massaging him.

“Just don’t think too much about it and let’s have some fun.”

Hoseok knows something is wrong, but he has no way to prove it now that Seokjin doesn’t believe him anymore.




They’re sitting around the table, talking about random things. Hoseok’s watching, no, staring at Taehyung, hoping to catch a wrong move, hoping to prove to Seokjin that something is wrong, but nothing happens. And even if he sees Jimin’s distraught gazes, he can’t prove they’re because of Taehyung. It’s driving him mad.

Taehyung keeps smiling like he didn’t do anything, and Seokjin is so enamoured in that man Hoseok is afraid he’ll change team and call him a liar.

“So, you know where Jimin and I met, but what about you?”

Taehyung asks, sipping on his glass of wine like he’s in a movie. Jimin’s looking at him with big, admirative eyes, shining with emotions. Or maybe tears, because the pants are still hurting his skin, and he wants to go back to wearing dresses. He shouldn’t be here. It’s torture.

“I was one of his clients. He used to cut my hair…actually still does it, but for free. It’s really convenient.”

Hoseok tries to lighten his own mood by laughing, but it doesn’t really work.

“So, you’re using me only because I can cut your hair? I’d rather live with Taehyung then.”

And Hoseok didn’t mean to say that, but he didn’t mean to hear Taehyung agree either.

“You’re welcome, I have enough rooms.”

Jimin and Hoseok both shoot surprised looks at Taehyung and the latter just laughs it off

“I’m joking.”

Jimin knows he isn’t, or he supposes he could really bring Hoseok home. Would he have to wear dresses too? But then…Wouldn’t Seokjin worry about his friend? Or would Taehyung kill him? Is he actually capable of killing?

Why is Jimin even doubting that?

Hoseok’s laugh is dry of emotions, and he gulps his glass down to keep himself from saying anything bad. He wants to gulp the whole bottle down too, so at least, if he says something inconvenient, they can blame the alcohol.

But it would look suspect.

And Hoseok doesn’t bear alcohol all that well, Seokjin knows too well. But Seokjin isn’t one to stop Hoseok now, Seokjin doesn’t really count in the equation if he refuses to trust Hoseok with what he says.

Hoseok needs to get Jimin alone with him, he needs to-

“Ah, fuck, how dumb am I, let me help you.”

-stain Jimin’s white shirt with a whole bottle of red wine. That will do the trick. Jimin looks down at his shirt, a pout on his lips, but his eyes only show gratefulness. Taehyung stands up, but Hoseok is faster.

“I’ll bring him, I mean, it’s my fault. You can ask the waitress if they have any clothes for him? He won’t go home like that; he’ll catch a cold.”

Hoseok can feel his heart beating out of his chest, and he’s almost sure Taehyung can hear it. Taehyung who surprisingly agrees without even putting up a fight. No, he just walks to the waitress as Hoseok brings Jimin to the bathroom. And Seokjin watches the scene unfold.

Seokjin sees the look in Taehyung’s eyes, the bestial look when Hoseok’s hands land on Jimin’s shoulders, like something over jealousy.

Hoseok wants to applaud himself for his performance, but he still needs to talk to Jimin, and that might be harder than expected.



“What’s happening, with Tae?”

“Why would anything be happening?”

Hoseok sighs.

“I see the bruises; I see how red and swollen your jaw is. What’s happening with you two?”

“I hurt myself because I ran too fast and tripped.”

This answer is automatic, as if Taehyung punched it inside Jimin’s brain until he couldn’t think anything else.

“And the bruises on your arms? You punched a wall?”


Hoseok’s going to cry. He’s really going to cry.

“Please, Jimin, I know something is wrong!”

“Can you just help me take my clothes off?”

“Not until you answer.”

Jimin stares at him for what feels like hours before calling for Taehyung. Hoseok jumps on him, a hand covering the other’s mouth.

“No, don’t call him. Fuck, you really don’t want to be helped, huh?”

Jimin mumbles something that Hoseok doesn’t quite understand.

“I’ll help you take off your clothes, but please don’t call him. I swear I’ll help you even if you refuse. Please, just shut up.”

Jimin nods. It’s way too easy. He’s been trained to receive orders. He has to be.


The called one looks up to Hoseok, waiting.

“Take off your pants.”

It’s just to see how far Hoseok can go before Jimin refuses something. If he’d refuse.

He doesn’t.

“Now, your shirt. It’s dirty.”

He feels the need to justify why he asks that from Jimin, but Jimin keeps smiling, keeps obeying like he’s a dog or a kid.

Hoseok gauges Jimin’s body, eyes roaming on the fit outlines of his abs. Jimin is half-naked in a public bathroom, and he doesn’t even flinch.

“Take off the rest.”

Jimin’s about to just do that, and Hoseok feels something break in him at the same time a light flicker somewhere inside his brain. He was fucking right. Why isn’t Seokjin with him right now?


And Jimin stops, it’s like he’s a mannequin or something, a robot reacting to voices. It makes Hoseok nauseous.

“What is happening with Taehyung?”

To this, Jimin shakes his head. Nothing. Nothing is ever happening with Taehyung.

They’re cut in their discussion by Taehyung entering the room with some clothes, and Jimin’s smile fades slowly. Hoseok looks at Taehyung with an emotion he can’t quite grab filling his heart.


“Ah, Jimin, you must be cold.”

Jimin isn’t, but he nods. Taehyung turns to Hoseok, politely dismisses him out of the room and Hoseok leaves, because what can he do?

Taehyung turns to Jimin once Hoseok is out, and once he’s sure he’s not listening behind the door.

“Doll…Ah, my pretty doll.”

Every step Taehyung takes forward has Jimin stepping closer to the stalls, and he’s soon presses against them.

“So many problems because of you, doll.”

“I-I didn’t tell…I didn’t tell him anything…”

Taehyung smiles, running fingers through Jimin’s hair, a fond smile on his face.

“I know. I know you didn’t. I bet he had fun ordering you around, didn’t he?”

Jimin doesn’t know, so he doesn’t move. Taehyung’s smile falls.

“But did I ever tell you to listen to others?”

Jimin shakes his head.

“Of course not, and you would be too dumb to think by yourself. I should’ve known that. It’s my fault. I won’t punish you for this time.”

But the punch Jimin receives proves the opposite. Or it’s a really bad way of not punishing someone.

“Will you remember it?”

Jimin nods, biting his lower lip to keep the tears inside. He’s not allowed to cry. He’s just allowed to be pretty.

“You tripped and fell, alright?”

Taehyung doesn’t wait for an answer before throwing the clothes to Jimin. Jimin, who forgot how to be autonomous.

It takes him ten minutes to put the black pants Taehyung brought him. Because they’re worse than the jeans he had. They itch really bad. Actually, Jimin takes two minutes to put the pants, and eight to calm himself down from his hysterical crying.

When he comes back, Taehyung doesn’t even do much as check on him and keeps laughing about something with Seokjin. How Jimin hoped he told everything to Hoseok. How he hoped Hoseok would do something, but he knows he can’t. They both know he can’t. Jimin’s here thanks to Taehyung and he refuses to betray him, and Hoseok doesn’t have enough proofs to inculpate Taehyung for anything.




Jimin almost cries when Taehyung takes the restaurant’s pants off of him. Not because he’s sad or liked them, but more because he felt like he was about to cut his legs off with how uncomfortable and itchy it was getting.

“No more pants, please…no more…”

Jimin does cry when he sees his lovely dresses, clinging to Taehyung, swearing he’ll do anything if it means he doesn’t have to wear those weird clothes that hurt his skin.

“Ah, doll, you were so good to me, you acted like someone decent. Almost clever.”

Jimin hums as Taehyung strokes his cheeks, leaning into the touch.

“You won’t wear pants again, I promise.”

“B-but you said…you said Hoseok could…”

“Come here? Oh, don’t worry about that.”

Taehyung pushes Jimin on the bed, the latter not bothered by his nudity. It’s comforting. He’s safe, he’s going to wear dresses again, and high heels. Even if the heels hurt, it’s nothing compared to wearing tight pants. But he was good, didn’t complain. He was so good.

The dress Taehyung brings from his collection is one Jimin has never seen. It’s white. So white it looks like a swan. It’s big, almost like a wedding dress, and it has flowers, be they fake or not, but they’re pretty, and they move elegantly. Jimin eyes the dress, cautious.

“Is it…for me?”

Taehyung looks at him, a smile on his lips.

“It’s for what you did tonight. My dumb little doll was able to think, at least for a bit. How’s your face doing?”

Jimin shrugs. It hurts, but that Taehyung knows.

“Come here. Let’s put that dress and you can go back on your throne. I’ll bring you shoes.”

Jimin obeys, and Taehyung needs twenty minutes to put the dress on Jimin. It looks magnificent, and Taehyung’s smile shows Jimin how proud he is. Jimin can’t keep himself from smiling too.

“Let’s put some lipstick on your lips. You’re looking so pretty, doll.”

Jimin doesn’t move, stays like Taehyung let him, standing up in the middle of the room, not even breathing too deep to keep his chest from rising too much. He’s a good doll.

“Go sit on your throne, we’ll do that there.”

He’s been trained so well, and it’s almost as if his feet bring him automatically on that pretty seat that is his. He sits down prettily, waits for Taehyung to come back. He feels good in that dress. At least, he’s not wearing jeans or any type of skin-tight clothing. It feels good.

Taehyung approaches him with the shoes, and a bag of make-up. He kneels in front of Jimin, and Jimin knows he can’t move. He’s not supposed to know what will happen next, but routine made its way to their lives.

“Give me your foot doll.”

Jimin doesn’t move, and Taehyung smiles softly. Satisfied.

“Funny how you obey others but can’t follow such an easy order.”

“I thought…he was about to hurt me…”

Jimin’s panicking, doesn’t want Taehyung to be upset. But Taehyung’s not upset at all, he’s pretty happy.

“I wouldn’t have let him hurt you, doll. I’m here to protect you. I brought you outside for you to see how dangerous the world is. Imagine if he threw something hot on you instead of that wine?”

Jimin can’t imagine, it would’ve hurt so bad.

“Do you understand why I keep you locked, now?”

Jimin can’t do anything but nod, as Taehyung slides both shoes on his feet. They fit him perfectly, but he can’t walk in them. They’re just made to show off, and that’s all Taehyung needs Jimin to do. Be pretty.




Hi, @seokiedaddie is the twitter

thanks for reading







Chapter Text

I have no idea when i'll finish that fic but enjoy some content




“I need you to do something for me, Jimin.”

Jimin’s sitting naked in the bathtub, Taehyung kneeling outside, fully clothed. Usually, he’d come inside with Jimin but today he decided otherwise. Maybe because he doesn’t want Jimin to think he owns Taehyung’s love, or anything of that sort.

“What is it?”

 “Something very important.”

Jimin hums, wiping a drop of shampoo that landed in his eye. Taehyung doesn’t comment on the fact that Jimin shouldn’t be doing anything alone, because Jimin’s already dependant, it doesn’t matter if he does things by himself anymore.

“You remember how Hoseok treated you, right?”

Jimin nods, he remembers.

“He looked so concerned, and we don’t want people to be concerned about you, right?”

“No, we don’t.”

Taehyung smiles, satisfied. What a good robot he’d created, what a good mirroring of himself, always accepting whatever he says.

“So, we need to do something to stop him from being concerned, hm?”

Again, Jimin agrees, even if he’s not really sure what he’s agreeing to. But does it really matter?

“It will be like a game,” Taehyung says as he massages Jimin’s scalp, the latter relaxing under Taehyung’s skilled hands. After so many months together, Taehyung knows how to relax or stress his little toy. Because let’s call Jimin what he is “you’ll have to play a role. You know how to play roles, don’t you?”

“I know.”

He’s done it so many times, he’s not even sure who he is anymore. But Taehyung is here for that, to tell him who he is, so he doesn’t need to worry about it.

“Can you act normally? Can you act like you acted before?”

Jimin stays silent for a few seconds, then looks up at Taehyung.

“What was I like, before?”

Taehyung should’ve been sad about it, about Jimin not remembering his past self, but he’s not. He’s proud.

“You were very different.”

Jimin can imagine that, or not, but he has a vague idea of what different means. He surely wasn’t wearing dresses, but he can’t remember wearing pants, not when they’re such a torture to wear now.

“Did I wear pants…?”

Taehyung thinks for a bit before humming. “Yeah, tight black pants and loose shirts. That was your style.”

Jimin wants to laugh to Taehyung’s face, because the man must be joking, right? Jimin couldn’t have had worn pants. It’s not possible.

“I tell you; you were very different. But you’re better so.”

“I am. I feel better.”

Does Jimin really feel better? Taehyung knows he doesn’t, knows it’s all thanks to the hard work he put onto turning Jimin into an obedient animated object. Not a human anymore, but something that would listen to him, sit still for hours or play roles.

If someone asked Jimin who he was, the man wouldn’t be able to answer.

Taehyung lifts Jimin out of the tub and wraps him in a soft towel before sitting him on the famous marble seat, that he recently engraved with the words “Doll’s Seat”, in pretty calligraphic letters.

Jimin sits there, waiting patiently for Taehyung to pick a dress. This time, it’s a golden one. One he rarely wears. The gold isn’t just a color.

Once Jimin is dressed, it’s time for Taehyung to brush his hair, and treat him like the doll he is.

“We will work for that role you will play. You need to be perfect, because we will invite Hoseok here.”

Jimin turns around, eyes opened wide.


Taehyung rolls his eyes, turning Jimin’s head so it faces the opposite direction.

“I said, Hoseok will come here. And you don’t have anything to say against it. He came already. It’s your own fault he started doubting, so you will fix it. You’ll be the one inviting him.”

Jimin feels tears dwell in his eyes, from Taehyung pulling on his hair, and from the things he needs to achieve.  

“I can’t…” Jimin whines, this time fully sobbing, Taehyung looking up at him through the mirror.

“You can’t? Maybe some hours in tight pants will change your mind.”

“N-no! Not the pants, please!” Jimin’s sobbing only gets worse, and Taehyung soothes him by running a hand in his hair.

“So, you will invite Hoseok here, right?”

Jimin nods, leans into Taehyung’s touch and closes his eyes.

“I will…”

Taehyung stands up once he’s done with Jimin’s styling, and Jimin waits for him to give any orders. He can’t move if Taehyung doesn’t tell him to.

“First, we will work on how you will talk to him.”

And with that, Taehyung leaves the bathroom, Jimin following close.


“First. Why do you invite him?”

“B-because I want him to stop worrying?”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“No. Because you want to change your haircut.”

“But I like it!”

Jimin should know better than to go against Taehyung’s words, but a slap on his cheek is a good reminder too.

“And do I care?”

Jimin shakes his head, swallowing back the tears threatening to run down his cheeks.

“So. You want a new haircut.”

“I-I want a new haircut.”

Taehyung leans on Jimin to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and Jimin feels his heart beat faster. He knows it doesn’t mean anything, but there’s always that little hope that it does and it’s enough for Jimin.

“Good boy.”

Jimin smiles, as if he forgot that he was about to cry a second ago, and Taehyung smiles fondly too. Jimin’s perfect.

“Let’s train that together, alright?”

Be it because Jimin wants to play more roles, or because the idea of wearing pants scares him, but he agrees, and they’re soon thinking of different ways for it to unfold.



“Hi, Hoseok! I’m really sorry to bother you but my hair’s gotten quite long, and I need you to come cut them…if it’s not too much for you? I really don’t want to bother you…”




Hoseok looks at his phone as if he received a call from Satan himself, jumping when Seokjin appears behind him.

“What’s the matter?”

“Jimin called?”

“And? He probably wants another haircut or something.”

Hoseok hums.

“Yeah…but…you still don’t understand, there’s something wrong with them.”

“You’re just being paranoid again,” Seokjin laughs.

It hurts to hear that even his friend doesn’t believe him, that he’s alone in that mess. He needs to find someone, anyone that would believe him.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll prepare my stuffs and go. I’ll be back later.”

And with that, Hoseok is gone, a lump in his throat keeping him from swallowing correctly.

Seokjin grabs his phone and types a number before bringing the device to his ear.

  • Jin?

“Hi, can you please do me a favor?”

  • About?

“I’m worried about Hoseok. Would you…check on him? He’s been having obsessive behaviors about one of his clients, Taehyung…you know.”

  • What kind?

“He thinks something is wrong with them, and he can’t stop talking about how sure he is. So…yeah, I’m worried.”


Seokjin can hear keyboard sounds, and the man on the other side of the line grunting something in the line of “I’ll come by tomorrow, m’busy now, bye” before hanging up.

Seokjin really hopes he can help, because he’s starting to think Hoseok is going crazy.

“I hope he doesn’t mess up. Tae’s a good client.”




“You did such a great job, Jimin.”

Taehyung runs a hand through Jimin’s hair, a move Jimin associates with praising, good things happening and him being a good boy. It’s enough for a smile to tug on his lips.

“I’m good, right?”

“Always good for me,” Taehyung murmurs.

Jimin looks at the phone after a while, hands trembling.

“I was a bit scared my voice might crack…”

“It didn’t, and I’m proud of you.”

A sense of pride blooms in Jimin’s chest, and it feels good. Taehyung’s taking such good care of him, he couldn’t be happier.

“Now, we can’t have you wear dresses when Hoseok comes.”

Jimin’s world falls apart again.

“Not-not the pants, please! I’ve been so good, please I don’t want them!”

Taehyung clicks his tongue and holds Jimin’s face between his hands, cupping it to stop Jimin from moving.

“Who talked about pants?” Taehyung wipes the tears that gathered in Jimin’s eyes.

“B-but you…”

“Shh, there’s other clothes that aren’t tight pants. Shorts? But only if you behave.”

Jimin nods, blinking the tears away.

“I’ll be good.”

Taehyung hums, a smile tugging on his lips as he pecks Jimin’s lips, which has the same effect as always, and Jimin’s beet red by the time Taehyung leans away.

“My pretty doll.”

To that, Jimin doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes and lets Taehyung’s perfume fill his nostrils.

He feels loved, even if it’s fake.




Hoseok is nervous. This is a fact. He shouldn’t be, but he’s nervous. Even if he tells himself that he’s just doing his job, and that he’s just exaggerating it all a bit. He read it all wrong, that’s it. He probably read Jimin’s behavior all wrong.

He knocks on the door, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

Taehyung’s the one to open the door, a big smile on his lips.

“Hi, Hoseok!”

“Hi Tae. So, Jimin wanted a new haircut?”

Hoseok can feel Taehyung’s intense gaze on him, and he feels uncomfortable.

But then, Taehyung’s speaking again, and there’s no threat in his voice.

“He’s in the bathroom.”

Hoseok follows his friend, still tense and nervous but doing a wonderful job in hiding it. Or so he hopes. They both know what the other’s up to anyway. Maybe that’s the reason why Hoseok is two steps away from having a heart attack, and that possibility only increases when he sees Jimin, in nothing more than a large shirt and boxers, sitting on the floor in front of the bathtub.

“Hi Hoseok!” He waves at the frozen man, not an ounce of shame for his less than enough clothes.

“Hi…Jimin,” Hoseok shakes his head, he needs to stay professional, “so, it’s for a haircut today?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired of those long hair.”

Hoseok nods, runs a hand through Jimin’s hair to feel for any dryness or oiliness. Jimin’s hair are smooth, Hoseok has rarely seen anything as well preserved.

“Which products do you use?”

“Tae’s nice enough to buy stuff from professionals.”

Hoseok looks up at Taehyung who smiles sheepishly.

“It’s a lot of money, but what wouldn’t I do for my boyfriend, hm?”

Hoseok expects Jimin to tense, or for something to betray his calm behavior, but it never comes.

Waiting for reactions will bring nothing to Hoseok, so he starts by washing Jimin’s hair, like he did the first time. He feels bad for Jimin because that must hurt his neck, but Jimin doesn’t show any signs of pain, so it’s alright?

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Jimin shakes his head, opening one eye.

“Can you dye my hair?”

Hoseok looks up at Taehyung, as if he needed the man’s permission to do his job.

“Jimin’s the one choosing.”

“Uh, yeah…sure. I can. Maybe another time? I didn’t bring anything to dye hair.” Hoseok apologize.

Jimin pouts but doesn’t say anything.

“I want an undercut, please.”

Hoseok starts working once he knows what Jimin wants.

The room is way too silent, and the only thing Hoseok hears is his own heartbeat and the scissors cutting through Jimin’s hair. He can feel Taehyung burning holes in his body. Or he’s just imagining it. He’s way too tense.

“So, Hoseok, you don’t speak much today.”

Hoseok looks up, almost cutting too much.

“I…don’t have much to say. We saw each other not long ago.”

“True,” Taehyung smiles. And it’s weirdly not reassuring “how has it been since then?”

“Good. Really good. Seokjin says I need to take a break, I work too much.”

Which is almost true. Seokjin said Hoseok needs to stop being such a paranoid man.

“Oh, I can only agree with him. Health comes before money.”

“Easy for you to say that,” Hoseok chuckles “you’re literally living in a castle.”

“Ah, no, don’t start with that again.”

Hoseok doesn’t answer to that, he focuses on cutting Jimin’s hair. Taehyung stopped staring at him and is now kneeling in front of Jimin, the man smiling big.

“How is it?”

Hoseok remembers Jimin fearing Taehyung, remembers Taehyung holding Jimin’s arm so tight it bruised. What he sees there is nothing real, he’s sure of that. He can’t be that crazy.



“We’re done.”

It’s been an hour or so, and Jimin started to feel his neck going numb. He’s happy to stand up and go check his new haircut. He doesn’t know if Taehyung agrees with the look, and for now he doesn’t care, but he looks way more boyish than he did before.

“I love it!”

Hoseok smiles, feels proud even though he still has that weird feeling about their relationship. But maybe Seokjin was right. He just saw things out of context. Or he was really stressed. Maybe he really needs to go on vacation.

“I’ll transfer the money on your account, like always.”

Hoseok seems to wake up from his daze and he shakes his head.

“No, no need, you always pay me way too much!”

“Ah,” Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes “don’t refuse a gift, it’s impolite.”

Hoseok shrugs, happy that he’s not falling apart with how fast his heart beats. He’s always been a good comedian, as much as he knows that Taehyung is probably one amazing comedian too.

“Do as you wish; I’ll be able to buy new products. And hair dye,” he looks at Jimin “we’ll dye them next time.”

Jimin nods happily, still feeling himself in front of the mirror. He does look good, that Hoseok can’t take him away.

It’s only when he’s out of the house that he takes a lungful of air. He didn’t realize he stopped breathing the few last seconds in Taehyung’s presence.

But he said he’d come back, so he better get his shit together soon, or Taehyung might just keep him from coming near Jimin, and he really needs to prove to Seokjin, or anyone, that Jimin is in danger and that Taehyung is dangerous.




“I called Yoongi.”

Hoseok didn’t even step fully in his apartment that he hears Seokjin talk to him from the living room.

“You what?”

“I called Yoongi,” Seokjin repeat “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Well, thanks, but you could ask me before you-”

Hoseok stops talking when he sees Yoongi, pretty much sitting on his sofa.


“Just tell me Yoongi’s here.”

“You would’ve turned around and left.”

“Probably because it always ends up in him asking me weird questions,” Hoseok mumbles.

“It’s what I do best.”

“So,” Hoseok sits down on the sofa facing them “what is it about tonight?”


Hoseok tries hard not to roll his eyes in annoyance.

“No, fuck, I thought it was for the table. What did I do?”

Yoongi sighs, putting his wine glass down. Hoseok never knew why, but Yoongi looks like he’s coming out of the fifties in how he acts, how he holds his glass. Or he rocks the way too cliché homosexual image. Something like that.

“Seokjin told me about Taehyung.”

Hoseok eyes Seokjin, visibly annoyed.

“Oh, I thank you very much for not trusting me.”

“It’s not that Hoseok, and you know it. You’ve been really stressed lately.”

Hoseok closes his eyes, tries to remain calm and stay where he is, as much as he wants to stand up and leave the apartment.

“So,” Yoongi continues “what happened with Taehyung?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened, I was very wrong, and life is great. You can go now, I’m sorry that dumbass called you here.”

But Yoongi’s not dumb, and Seokjin quite literally told him everything.

“Why do you think his relationship with Jimin isn’t healthy?”

Hoseok looks at them with such a disgusted face.

“Like I said, I was wrong. Nothing’s unhealthy, I must’ve been really tired when I said that. Seokjin is right, I need vacation,” Hoseok stands up “and people who believe what I say when I say it.”

The last thing they hear is the door slamming loudly.

“It wasn’t the best idea, Seokjin.”

“It was. I really need him to stop obsessing over them.”

“Who tells you he didn’t?”

“He went to Taehyung’s house. He’s so tense now, that’s why he reacted like that.”

“Or maybe because you didn’t tell him I was there, and you know he hates me.”

Seokjin laughs.

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just…having a hard time sharing his feelings, and he knows you’re here for that.”

Yoongi hums.

“Should I maybe…go talk to him in private?”

“I’m not stopping you.”




“You did so good today, Jimin.”

Jimin hums, sitting in his throne like every evening. He’s been used to it by now.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Jimin looks down at Taehyung, waiting for the other to reveal the surprise. Jimin expects another pair of high heels, or maybe expensive necklaces.

“What about sleeping with me tonight?”

But not that.

“Don’t take it for granted. It’s one time, alright?”

Jimin doesn’t mean to cry, really. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying.

“I get-I get to…sleep with you?”

Taehyung wipes the tears away, a fond smile appearing on his face.

“Isn’t it great?”

Jimin nods through tears, and literally throws himself in Taehyung’s arms.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

It’s been months. Right? Months of sitting in that chair, dozing off, back aching, eyes burning and dress itching after hours of wearing them. Jimin forgot what it felt like to lay down. He forgot what it was to relax.

But he doesn’t want it to be a one-time thing.

“If I…If I’m good, can I…sleep with you more than once?”

“We’ll see.”

Jimin swallows a whine, and with Taehyung’s help, stands up from his throne to go with Taehyung to his room. Room that he never went into, and probably never even saw. He was never allowed there.

Taehyung opens the door and Jimin’s jaw drops. It’s so big. Taehyung’s house is big already, but his room must take half of the whole surface.

“Let’s take this dress off.”

Jimin feels tears run down his cheeks when the dress falls at his feet. He’s naked, and it’s nighttime. It’s been such a long time since he was comfortable for sleeping.

Taehyung must here him cry, because Jimin soon feels hands circle his waist and Taehyung’s chin on his shoulder.

“Are you happy?”

Jimin nods, wipes his tears and turns around. He stopped being bashful a long time ago, and he knows there’s nothing sexual between them. He practically jumps on Taehyung to hug him, a rare display of affection. But the occasion is special, so Taehyung lets him.

“Hey, you know I care, hm?”

“Thank you…”

They’re so close to each other, Jimin can feel Taehyung’s breath on his cheek, and his lips when he turns his head to look at him. It’s nothing they never knew, but Jimin feels shy suddenly, and he really, really wants to thank Taehyung for letting him sleep in an actual bed. He’s still pretty much hanging on Taehyung and he leans down a bit to leave a quick kiss on his lips, a blush creeping up his face.

“It’s not a dream…right?”

Taehyung smiles, wipes some stray tears off Jimin’s face and shakes his head, holding Jimin up under his thighs.

“No, it’s real.”

They look like lovers. Maybe they are. Taehyung knows they’re not, but what about Jimin? And what when Taehyung brings them on the bed and without saying anything, towers Jimin with all his body, almost keeping him from breathing.

“You were so good.”

Jimin’s smile gets swallowed in a kiss. A kiss like they never shared before.

Taehyung starts with soft kisses on Jimin’s lips, the other’s eyes closing, body relaxing. Jimin’s not sure where Taehyung wants to go with that until he feels something wet on his lips. Jimin opens one eye, and parts his lips to let Taehyung’s tongue inside.

It’s weirdly pleasant.

It’s way too short too, but Jimin can’t complain. Taehyung leaves the bed, leaving Jimin to lay down on his own for a few minutes before he feels hands on his body. They don’t do much, just put him in loose shorts.

“Here, go under the covers.”

Jimin can still taste Taehyung’s tongue on his own, can still feel the wetness on his lips, and he wants more. He wants Taehyung to kiss him like that every day, but Taehyung’s fast to make him understand that it was a one-time thing, as much as sleeping in a bed, when he pecks his lips to wish him good night.

Strangely, Jimin sleeps even less in that bed.




Yoongi knocks on Hoseok’s door and waits for an answer. He can hear the man walk around on the other side, but it takes two minutes for the door to open.

“I don’t need you to tell me how wrong I was, thank you.”

Before Hoseok can slam the door, Yoongi pushes him back to enter the room.

“It’s not what I’m here for,” he closes the door behind him “but Seokjin said you really thought Jimin was in danger. Why?”

“Why would I tell you? You’ll say I’m crazy.”

“Did I ever?”

Hoseok huffs.

“I can hear you think it.”

Yoongi sighs, plopping on Hoseok’s bed as if he lived there.

“When did we last talk seriously about you, Hoseok?”

Hoseok looks at him, shrugs and turns his focus on something useless, but as long as he doesn’t have to face Yoongi, it’s good.

“Why am I always the one talking?”

“Because it’s what you do best,” Hoseok mumbles.

“Why do you think Jimin is in danger? And first, explain how you met that Jimin, and Taehyung.”

Hoseok takes a deep breath and finally faces Yoongi with his whole body.

“Don’t think I’m crazy, or I won’t tell you.”

“I’m not thinking anything,” Yoongi nods, lips pinched “I swear.”

“Alright. So, I knew Taehyung before I knew Jimin. He was…still is a good client and he always pays me way too much and I’m really thankful for that but…” Hoseok looks up, searching for the right words “when I saw Jimin with him, a few weeks ago, it was…so tense, and it felt like Jimin didn’t want to be here…and maybe I was just seeing things but then I saw them at that bar, or coffee shop, I’m not sure what it was and…” He looks down at Yoongi “Something really weird happened?”


“Mhm. So, we were in the bathroom because I spilled wine on Jimin’s shirt and I wanted to help him get cleaned and…I told him to undress, and maybe it’s nothing but he did it, and I told him to take his pants off even though there was nothing on there, and he did it too…” Hoseok squints his eyes “You said no judging, right?”

Yoongi nods, biting his bottom lip. “So, you acted like the real dom to prove your point?”

“No! It’s…I mean, yes, but it wasn’t for fun. You really need to believe me, I can show you!”

Hoseok stops talking.

“Actually, I’m not sure I can anymore. I’m…I went to cut Jimin’s hair today and it was so different…So maybe I’m going crazy.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Yoongi lifts his hands up in defense “but I think I’ll need to check on that. Any reason for us to meet? Because hearing how you explain it you already saw them a lot.”

“Three times isn’t a lot.”

“I’m suddenly jealous of those strangers.”

Hoseok snorts. “You’re just here for work.”

“Right. We’ll need to find a reason to meet them.”

“Ah! Jimin said he wanted me to dye his hair. They would need to come to the salon for that so…you could be there? And I could tame those wild Platine hair.”

Yoongi brings a hand to his scalp, frowning. “They’re not that dry.”

“No, sure, I’m sure they’ll catch fire if you stay under the sun for too long.”

“Fuck you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok laughs.

“What kind of doctor treats his patients like that??”

“What kind of patient refuses to talk to his doctor?”

Hoseok pouts. “I did talk.”

“True,” Yoongi extends a hand “would you forgive me?”

Hoseok eyes him for a while before taking the hand offered to him.

“Only if you swear you won’t tell Jin about our plan.”

“Professional secret.”




“How did you sleep?”

Jimin’s still laying down on the bed, in the same position he supposedly fell asleep.


“Hoseok messaged me about your hair dying, said it had to be done at his salon.”

“He has a salon?”

Taehyung nods.

“Yeah. He bought it recently.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide. “Because you paid him so much?”


“How are you so rich?”

“Life has been good for me.”

Jimin wants to ask Taehyung what he does for a living, because he never saw him work, but again, he didn’t really have a chance to see anything from his throne.

“So, when are we going?”

Taehyung looks at Jimin, face suddenly too serious.

“Are you ready to go outside? Or will you mess up like the other time?”

Jimin looks away as Taehyung holds his chin, and he feels that fear come back, that fear of not being good enough.

“I’ll be good, I swear!”

“You better. You know what will happen if you misbehave.”

For a night, Jimin forgot what his life was, for a night in that bed, even if he didn’t sleep, Jimin felt human again. It’s gone now, it was a one-time thing, as Taehyung said.

“I’ll be good…”


Jimin pushes the door to the hairdressing salon, and the smell of shampoos makes his head turn. It’s been so long since he went in a public place. Not a bar. Bars don’t count. Taehyung is still next to him, maybe too close, but Jimin doesn’t mind. It’s nice here, fresh, feels like freedom.

Taehyung’s still there. He’s still very much here, like a shadow over Jimin’s existence.

“Hi, Jimin!”

Jimin smiles his best smile as he walks toward Hoseok, that one almost fading away, when he sees someone he doesn’t know, sitting not too far away from them. He’s getting his hair cut, he has all rights to be there. But it’s the way he looks at them, maybe, as if he knew things he shouldn’t.

“So, you were talking about getting a hair color?”

Jimin hums, not able to take his eyes off the stranger.

“Oh, that’s Yoongi. A friend of mine. Don’t mind him he can be quite uncomfortable with his staring.”

And saying that, Hoseok throws a towel he took from who knows where on his friend, covering his face.

Jimin doesn’t know why, but that reassures him.

“Sit down here.”

Jimin does as told, looking at Taehyung through the mirror, his dark eyes that remind him where he belongs, remind him that as soon as they leave that place, he’ll be the good doll he has always been.

They know how to play comedy. God, Jimin has become so good at it.

“I’m a good boy,” he mouths when nobody’s looking at them, and Taehyung nods, a smile appearing on his face. So, so innocent.

“Ah, look at the cute couple.”

Jimin blushes, Taehyung raises an eyebrow.

How long will they play that game?

“Did you find a girlfriend or anything?”

“What is “anything” for you?” Hoseok asks as he pulls Jimin’s head back in the sink.”

“Well, a girlfriend, a boyfriend, something in between. I know how opened you are.”

“I didn’t find anything of that sort. I don’t have your time. You must take such good care of Jimin, it’s as if he was your doll.”

Jimin opens his eyes, looks up at Hoseok but the guy is smiling, and soon Taehyung is laughing.

“You couldn’t blame me, he’s so pretty.” Hoseok starts shampooing Jimin’s hair, even though he doesn’t need to. When he talked about Jimin being treated like a doll, he was serious, his hair is constantly in such a good shape.

“Which color are we going with?” Hoseok asks, running his wet hands through Jimin’s dark hair.

“Something lighter? Blonde?”

“Like Yoongi?” Hoseok gestures to the man whose face is still covered with the towel. They can hear a grunt from behind it.

“Hum…would it suit me?”

“Ask your boyfriend.”

Jimin searches Taehyung’s eyes in the mirror, silently asking.

“I’m not against, Hoseok knows what he’s doing,” Taehyung shrugs “and We can always redye it if it’s horrible.”

“I would be hurt if you found my work horrible.”

“You know I don’t, Hoseok.”

“And so, how did you two meet?” Yoongi slides in the conversation like he’s on ice.

Taehyung looks at him for a moment, staying silent.

“At school.”

Yoongi hums, eyes closed behind the towel that he’ll probably never take off unless someone does it for him. It’s good so, he doesn’t need to see.

“How was the first meeting?”

“As good as any first meeting. Jimin was nice, I took a liking, he did too, that’s it.”

Jimin couldn’t imagine meeting Taehyung for the first time, because it never happened.

“Jimin?” Yoongi calls, it’s muffled by the towel.


“How did you meet Taehyung?”

“He just answered that…” Jimin frowns.

“I’m asking you now. How did you meet him?”

“Hum, at school. I met him at school.”


“In the courtyard, after lunch.”

Yoongi doesn’t ask anything anymore and Jimin lets out a relieved sigh.

Hoseok blows Jimin’s hair dry and then proceeds to the coloration. If he’s being honest, he didn’t need to wash Jimin’s hair before the coloration, but it was a good reason to keep him longer. Even if he’ll have to wait thirty minutes for the bleach to be effective.

“It might burn a bit. It will burn a bit.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin smiles.

It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to finish covering Jimin’s hair in product, and for the time where they must wait, he goes to Yoongi and takes the towel off his face.

“Welcome back to the real world,” Hoseok laughs “what do we do today?”

“You said you wanted to tame my hair, so go ahead.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes and pulls Yoongi’s hair roughly to make his head fall back in the sink, making Yoongi grunt in pain.

“Why am I treated so badly in that hair salon?”

“Because you deserve it.” Hoseok smiles.

Jimin breathes a laugh, and when Hoseok looks in his direction, he sees Taehyung kneeled next to him, holding his hands.

How Hoseok would die to hear what he’s whispering.

Jimin’s scalp burns the more the product stays in his hair, but he’s been used to pain, and the way Taehyung looks at him makes him forget about said pain. He knows, or should know, that everything they do is play a role, but he can’t stop himself from thinking, what if? What if Taehyung really was his boyfriend? What if they really met at school? They probably did meet at school, or at least cross ways, but they never talked together.

Why him? Jimin wants to ask. Why did Taehyung choose him to be his perfect little doll? How does Jimin, such a stupid human being, deserve such a graceful title?

But he never asks, because Taehyung would answer.

“We’re going to take the product off or your hair will fall, and as much as I’m sure bald look would suit you as much as blonde would it’s not what you wanted.” And then turning to Taehyung “What’s a doll without hair, right?”

Taehyung looks at Hoseok, brows raised in an amused expression.

“Who would pay half of your salary if it weren’t for me? Thank Jimin that you have me as a client.”

“I had you as a client way before, Tae. I don’t know if you remember, or if Jimin drained all memories from your brain,” Hoseok answers coldly.

Then it’s silence, Hoseok doing his job and Taehyung seating on one of the vacant chairs.

“Who confessed to the other first?”

Yoongi’s voice resounds in the room again, over the sound of water flowing and hair scratching.

“I did,” Taehyung answers, eyes closed.

Jimin stays silent.

“How was it,” And before Taehyung has time to answer, Yoongi adds “Jimin?”

“Uh…great? I felt really shy…I mean, look how good looking he is and…me?”

Yoongi eyes them from the corner of his eye, nodding short.

“Mhm. Cute.”

Nothing happens the rest of the time they spend in Hoseok’s salon, and as promised, Taehyung pays way too much for the service, and Hoseok is reminded of his place in Taehyung’s eyes. He’s reminded of why he brought Yoongi here.




“I am delighted to know that you do things behind my back when I want to help.”

Hoseok and Yoongi stop talking to look up at a very annoyed Seokjin.

“You wouldn’t believe me!” Hoseok accuses.

“And for that you go meet Taehyung and Jimin with Yoongi? For what? To prove your point?”

“So what? I didn’t force him to come.”

“Actually,” Yoongi cuts their little argument “I’m not sure about what Hoseok saw, but there is something weird with them.”


“Weird doesn’t mean dangerous,” Yoongi adds. “They just look like two shy guys forming a couple. Maybe they have weird kinks and are shy to talk about it.”

Hoseok’s shoulders fall as he looks at his friend and the doctor, psychiatrist or whatever Yoongi is supposed to be.

“So, you think I’m overreacting? Like Seokjin?” Hoseok laughs nervously. “I appreciate the support. Thanks,” he turns to Seokjin “look how much savings you’ll be able to do because you won’t need to pay Yoongi anymore. I’m done.”

“Hoseok, that’s not what we-”

But before Seokjin is done, Hoseok is out of the house.

“He really believes there’s something wrong with them.”

Seokjin hums “I hope he doesn’t do something crazy.”

“We’ll have to watch him.”

“I’ll still pay you.”

“You haven’t paid me since years,” Yoongi rolls his eyes “as if you were going to start again.”

Seokjin’s smile gets bigger as he leans on Yoongi.

“I pay you. It’s just not money anymore.”

“You’re so lame I swear,” Yoongi mumbles, lips pressed against Seokjin’s “I hate you.”

“Mhm.” Seokjin ends up closing his eyes after Yoongi jumped up to circle Seokjin’s waist with his legs.

“I love you too.”




Hoseok can’t believe his own friend, Seokjin, doesn’t believe him. He can’t believe the fucking psychiatrist Seokjin paid won’t believe him either. 

“Those are just weird kinks;”Hoseok mumbles to himself “weird kinks my ass!”

He sighs, walking in the streets alone. It doesn’t bring him anything but what can he do about it? He must be crazy, right? Imagining things that never happened, seeing the bad things were there’s nothing but innocence. That’s because he’s working too much. 

He needs a break or someone who would believe him, someone with whom he could talk without fearing of being judged. 

Someone like a private detective.

It’s what he’s reading on the showcase he’s standing in front of. And that brings a big smile on his lips, a relieved smile. At least, if someone sees them like Hoseok saw them, maybe he has a chance. 

Hoseok pushes the door of the agency, heart beating faster than ever.

The inside has nothing special about it, it’s white and looks tidy overall, the reception is kept by a young lady, mid-twenties, Hoseok would say, but he’s always been bad with ages.

He approaches the counter slowly, coughing lightly to grab the receptionist’s attention.

“Good Afternoon, what can I do for you?” 

“Hum…Would it be possible to meet a…detective?” 

The receptionist looks down at her computer, eyes moving along some texts. 

“When would it be?” She asks without lifting her eyes off the screen.

“As soon as possible.”

She hums. 

“We have one of our detectives who would be free…tomorrow at one PM. Is it alright for you?” 

Hoseok thinks for a moment, he knows he has to work but he can always ask his employees to replace him. That meeting is way more important for him. 

“I’ll make it.”

The woman takes a card out of a little box and scribbles something on it, then hands it to Hoseok.

“His name is Mister Jeon, you’ll find his number and I wrote the date and hour of the meeting.” 

Hoseok looks at the card, nodding along what the other says. 

“If you have any questions you can find the agency’s number in bold numbers just under Mister Jeon’s private one. We’re opened from 9 AM to 20 PM from Monday to Friday, as you can see.”

Hoseok hums, pushing the card in his jeans pocket. 

“I’ll be there tomorrow, thank you.” Hoseok turns around, heading to the door “Have a nice day,” He ends with a smile. 

The woman smiles back at him. 




Jimin’s head is hanging low as he feels Taehyung’s gaze on him, like that first day where he would watch Jimin as if he was transparent. 

“So, how did you do?” 

That is not a question. Jimin knows very well that he messed up. He knows his voice trembled and even if none of them realized it, Taehyung did and it’s enough.

“My voice…” 

“We worked on it, didn’t we?” 

Jimin nods, ashamed. It’s not that he didn’t want to lie, it’s just…he never asked himself those questions. How did he feel when Taehyung confessed? When did he even do that? Jimin’s still confused, doesn’t understand that question. 

“What’s the punishment for bad boys like you?” 

Jimin looks up with wide eyes, tears already gathering at the corners. 

“The…the pants?” 

“Something you remember, at least.” 

But Jimin knows what a torture wearing pants is, and he doesn’t want it, doesn’t deserve it. He tried his best! 

It’s not enough.

Jimin is powerless, can’t stand what Taehyung decides for him, there’s no need to try. He knows it. 

Taehyung left the room, leaving Jimin alone to think about what he’s done wrong.  

Jimin was bad and he’s being punished, it’s as simple as that. 

“What about those tight black pants you used to love so much?” 

Jimin looks up, tears running down his cheeks. He can already feel the itchiness of the fabric, how uncomfortable it is, and he hates it.


“Please? Oh, I’ll hurry don’t worry.” 

“N-no, please…I’ll do anything,” Jimin whines, voice wet with tears. 

“Anything?” Taehyung kneels in front of Jimin, tenderly wiping the non-stop flowing tears “But I asked you to do something and you lamentably failed. Now you want to do anything? It’s too late, Jimin.” 

A sob wrecks Jimin’s body as he looks down to the tight jeans Taehyung brought. 

“I even brought a belt so it doesn’t slip off.” 

And cuffs, so Jimin doesn’t try to take them off. The belt is just to be sure Jimin won’t wiggle his way out of the pants in some desperate last attempt.

Taehyung starts by cuffing Jimin’s hands behind his back, the man trashing and wailing as if Taehyung was hurting him. 

“You sound like a baby.” 

Jimin doesn’t care, he hates it already, and he doesn’t deserve that!

Does Taehyung care? Not that much. He dresses Jimin like he would dress a doll, with the only exception that a doll is still, and Jimin is nothing of that sort. 

“You’ve been so good until now. Why are you being such a bad boy? You know it’s your fault, why are you fighting your punishment?” 

Taehyung’s voice is so soft but Jimin doesn’t hear it over his own cries. What he hears though, or feels, is the loud slap he receives. 

“Stop acting like a fucking spoiled child!”

Jimin’s breath stays stuck in his throat for a few seconds, and he looks at Taehyung with wide eyes, a wave of silent tears flowing down his face. 

Taehyung smiles, finally able to put the pants on Jimin. 

“See, it’s not so bad. Let’s put the belt now.”

Jimin stares at the object in Taehyung’s hand emptily, and doesn’t move when Taehyung puts it around his waist. It’s useless.

When they’re done, Taehyung smiles fondly, kissing Jimin’s forehead before standing up and leaving the room.

Jimin cries silently, eyes focused on the ceiling.  



After not even a minute he can’t bear wearing those pants, and the pain he feels, not only in his legs but in his heart makes him want to die right here. But that’s not possible, Taehyung takes way too good care of him.

“How are you doing, now? Learned your lesson?” 

Jimin has no idea how long he stayed there, but he knows his legs hurt, as psychological as it might be. He nods, doesn’t know to what, really, but he nods with all his might. 

“I-I’ll be good, I swear…” 

“You can surely spend a few more hours in those, hm?” 

Jimin shakes his head wildly, getting up on his knees and crawling to Taehyung’s feet. 

“I’ll do anything, p-please, anything!”

Taehyung looks down at him, a smirk deforming his lips. 

“I know, doll. I know.” He crouches down “Tell me,” Taehyung holds Jimin’s chin, lifting his head up “what is “anything” for you?” 

“Whatever you ask,” Jimin sobs “whatever you ask I’ll do, I swear!”

Taehyung stays silent, looks right into Jimin’s soul. 

“You just want to be a good boy, don’t you?” 

Jimin nods, a pout forming on his lips. 

“Aw, don’t make such a face…” 

Taehyung’s mood swings are still scary sometimes, but Jimin leans against the hand he ran through his hair and closes his eyes. 

“I’ll do anything for you…”  




Hoseok pushes the glass door and enters the room once again, this time with the firm determination to make someone believe his story.






adding the curious cat


thanks for reading



Chapter Text

Tags: hand job, scent kink, fabric kink (?), (it's a tiny part but it's still there)



“You’d do anything for me?”

Jimin nods, almost forgets the itchiness in his legs. Almost. It’s not long before it strikes again, when Taehyung stands up.


Taehyung doesn’t answer and Jimin feels weak, feels like he’s going to throw up because it’s all too much emotionally. He never deserved that.

“I-I’ll be so good…please j-just take them OFF!!”

Jimin isn’t crying anymore, he’s screaming. He’s had enough and even when Taehyung lifts him up by a fistful of hair, does he keep shrieking like some sort of alarm.



The voice doesn’t reach Jimin’s ears as he keeps trashing, not caring that his scalp is hurting, face covered in salty tears. It’s painful, his heart aches.

“I-I’ll do anything, I promise I’ll do a-anything PLEASE TAKE THEM OFF!!”

Taehyung lets go of Jimin’s hair and the man falls heavily on the ground but doesn’t stop crying.

“Now, baby, I can’t take them off if you don’t stop moving, hm?”

Strangely, Jimin hears that very good and stops moving, but Taehyung doesn’t say anything about that. He just takes the pants off Jimin who is trembling like a leaf in a storm.

Once the pants are off, Jimin starts sobbing again, this time out of relief, as he throws himself in Taehyung’s arms.

“I-I’ll do a-anything…no more…not that anymore…don’t…don’t like it…”

Taehyung rocks Jimin in his arms, shushing him and running hands through his hair.

“I know, doll. I know.”

They stay a few minutes like that, Jimin calming down and holding Taehyung’s shirt like his life depends on it. After a while, Taehyung’s voice resonates in the room again.

“I need you to watch Hoseok.”

Jimin hums, eyes droopy with sudden exhaustion. But he knows he can’t fall asleep. He’s not clever enough.

“Now, let’s get you changed.”

Jimin can’t say he’s tired, Taehyung wouldn’t listen anyway. He follows the other man to the bathroom, like always, as Taehyung brings Jimin shorts and a loose shirt.

“I wonder how you’ll do, in winter.”

Jimin shrugs, sitting down on his sit and waiting for Taehyung to dress him. He forgot how to do it himself.




The same receptionist as the first time Hoseok crossed that doorframe is sitting behind the counter, looking up with a smile.

“You’re a bit early Sir.”

Hoseok hastens to shake his head.

“But I can wait, no problem!”

The receptionist waves a hand dismissively as she takes her phone and starts dialing a number.

It’s not long before someone answer.

“Hi, Jungkook. Hurry, your client is here.”

And she hangs up. Hoseok eyes her with a frown but doesn’t have time to complain about what just happened before he hears steps coming from behind one of the doors. There must be a corridor behind. His silent question is answered when the door opens loudly, and a young man in a black suit looks around with big doe eyes.

“Am I late? I’m always late.”

The receptionist chuckles behind her counter, hiding her smile with a well-manicured hand.

Jungkook looks at her, then at his watch and rolls his eyes.

“I’m absolutely not late, Hyemin.”

“But now you’re here, and he really seemed to want to meet you.”

Jungkook turns to Hoseok with a smile before extending a hand.

“Nice to meet you Sir, I’m Mister Jeon, but you can call me Jungkook.”

“Are you not a private detective…? Are there no secrets about names, and stuff?” Hoseok asks as he shakes the man’s hand.

Jungkook breathes a laugh, indicating the receptionist who’s back at working on her computer.

“You probably heard my name when she called me, and don’t worry, nothing tells you it’s my real name.”

He’s right. Hoseok has no way to know what his real name is, but he doubts Jungkook would even choose a fake name. He’s too…overconfident?

“So, let’s go to my office, we’ll have more…” He looks at his receptionist who keeps glancing up “privacy.”

They walk to the door Jungkook came from a few minutes ago and climb a range of steps before landing in front of a metallic door. Hoseok looks at the door with wide eyes. At least nobody could enter uninvited.

“Don’t look at it like that, I have a lot of confidential information in that room. I don’t want anybody going around without my permission. Even though Hyemin does it.”

“Do you…trust her?”

Jungkook snorts.

“I wouldn’t work with her if not.”


Jungkook opens the heavy door and Hoseok is not done being surprised. The office looks huge, probably even bigger than the entrance, and it’s filled with modern furniture. A big black carpet covers the middle of the room and a leather sofa stands at the far end of the big space.

“Where…where do I sit?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer but walks to the sofa, and Hoseok has no choice but to follow.

“So,” Jungkook lets himself fall on the sofa like he’s at home “what is it about?”

He grabs a pen and a little notebook. An agenda, maybe.

“Uh…It’s about…a friend, or more a client of mine.”

Jungkook hums, tapping the bottom of the pen on the white page.

“What’s about him?”

“He…” Hoseok hesitates for a moment; he’s told this story so many times (two) and nobody believed him “He has a boyfriend, but I don’t think it’s his boyfriend.”

Jungkook looks up, eyes shining with interest.

“Go on.”

“We went out to grab a coffee, or some alcohol and on the way to the bar he was holding him so tight that he had marks all over his arm. It’s not something you do to your boyfriend, right?”

“I suppose you have names.”

“Taehyung and Jimin. Kim Taehyung, but for the other I have no idea what his family name is.”

Jungkook nods, writing the few information down.

“Where should I start my investigation?”

Hoseok doesn’t think for long.

“Taehyung’s house.”

“Taehyung…” Jungkook whispers as he writes down the address Hoseok gives him.

“How are the surroundings?”

Hoseok frowns, tries to remember something he never really acknowledged.

“There’s a way leading to the house…big house, Victorian style, really impressive…like him if you ask me. That way is surrounded by a forest, I have idea how big it is, but you reach the house in twenty minutes from the city center. With a car. Might take an hour to walk.”

“You know a lot about him.”

Hoseok shrugs but nods anyway.

“I’ve been in that house a few times…two. I’ve been in that house two times.”

“Since when do you know Taehyung?”

“A few…years? But only as a client. We never really talked. I mean, we did have a sort of employee-client relation but nothing…personal?”

“How did that change?” Jungkook sounds more and more interested by that new case, if the scribbling he does on his page tells anything.

“He called me, a few months ago to ask me to cut his friend’s hair. There I started to feel something was off. Then, the outside scene happened and after that I went a second time and…it had changed but…I’m still sure there’s something.”

“Alright. I think I can work with that.”

Hoseok looks at him incredulously.

“You…actually believe me, right?”

Jungkook nods. “I’ve seen so many things, I’m not really surprised, but it seems exciting enough.”

“My friends think I’m over-exaggerating it.” Hoseok sighs.

“It’s hard to believe at first, it could be anything. Maybe they had a bad day, maybe they have a weird lifestyle, but maybe it’s something unhealthier and for that I will check myself.”

Hoseok nods. He’s so, so relieved that finally someone accepted to do something about what he saw, and if he was wrong, then great, he’ll accept the consequences. But if he was right, he’s maybe about to save a life.




Jimin stands in front of Hoseok’s salon, alone. No Taehyung to be seen around. Maybe a few months ago he would’ve tried to call for help, escape from that situation. But he wouldn’t get the pretty dresses Taehyung buys him every week.

Does is compare with freedom? It does, in Jimin’s mind.

It’s way too early now, and the salon isn’t even opened, but Jimin learned to be patient. And he never knows, if Hoseok comes earlier.

“Make friend with him, I know how good you were at that.”

Jimin was good at making friends? If Taehyung said so. He’s not sure where his friends are now, for all he knows, they might be all dead. Do they worry sometimes? Do they believe he moved out? Does Taehyung even go to school?

How has no-one worried about him?

“Don’t let him worry about your situation. You have to be his friend, or you know what will come.”

Jimin wonders how he’ll do that. What should he talk about, without it gravitating around Taehyung? What if Hoseok asks something embarrassing? The shorts are a little itchy, but Jimin can bear it. He’s a good boy.

“Be his best friend or I’ll fucking rip your head off.”

Would Taehyung really be capable of killing him? Jimin is sure, when he gets lost in his dark orbs, that he would be capable of killing a whole room of people. But those eyes hold so much more than hate, and Jimin learned to love those dark looks.

The feeling of Taehyung’s lips against his, the feeling of his hand in his hair. Jimin wants to hold Taehyung against him.

“Be a good doll, won’t you?”

Jimin sometimes wonder what it would feel like to have sex with Taehyung. He’s still human, as much as he tries to forget it, as much as he’s able to forget it. He hasn’t slept in weeks. No that’s a lie. He dozes off, sometimes. Dozing off hurts. It’s as if Taehyung was constantly watching him.

It’s too early now, and it’s too cold. Taehyung is right, he needs to think of a way to wear pants without freaking out. Or stay home his whole life. Staying home sounds nicer.

“You wore tight pants before.”

Jimin looks down at his shaved legs, doesn’t remember letting them grow once, doesn’t remember wearing pants. Doesn’t remember not being Taehyung’s doll. He looks at himself in the showcase glass, looks at the emptiness, unknowing of what should fill it. He’s just a doll after all.

Time ticks slowly. Way too slowly. Jimin isn’t aware of time anymore. Ah, Taehyung threw his phone in the washing machine…or was it the dryer? It came out completely destroyed, because as he said.

“I don’t need anything but him.”

Jimin repeats with a smile.

He stays there for hours before the first rays of sun appear, and the streetlights turn off.

The warmth feels good on Jimin’s legs, and he shortly closes his eyes until he hears steps come his way.


Jimin smiles at Hoseok.

“Hi. How are you?”

Hoseok stays mute for a second, surprised.

“Hum, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

Jimin doesn’t answer, just pushes the door when Hoseok unlocks it, sighing when the warmth of the room appeases his frozen legs.

“I just wanted to see if you were alright. And…honestly? I’ve been really curious about being a hairdresser.”


Jimin nods, takes a random bottle of shampoo and examines it.

“Mhm. Like, how did you get into that? I don’t know what to do…later. You know.”

Hoseok nods.

“I could…let you work here for a week?”

Hoseok’s not sure about that. He needs Jungkook to observe them together or else nothing will happen. He’ll need to call him to tell the change of plans. It should be okay too to observe them during the night.

Jimin’s face lightens up as a big smile deforms his lips.

“That would be great!”

“You can stay here today, start by taking all the carts out of the closet.”

Jimin is good at listening. He learned that thanks to Taehyung. Hoseok is good at observing.

“Aren’t you cold with your shorts? I have a pair of pants in the closet too, they should fit you.”

“No, I’m good. It’s quite hot here.”

 Hoseok shrugs. It’s nothing that will kill him, and the room is warmed.

But something at the back of his head tells him that it has to do with Taehyung. He shakes the thought off, he’s overexaggerating.

Once all the carts are out Hoseok turns all the lights on and turns the sign to “open”. Jimin observes him.

“Why did you want to be a hairdresser?”

“I liked playing with people’s hair. It just came to me like that.”

Jimin can’t help imagining Taehyung as a hairdresser.

“Do you cut your own hair?”

Hoseok laughs at that.

“Would be totally crazy to do that.”

“Have you cut Taehyung’s hair?”

Hoseok is a bit taken aback by the question, but he remembers that Jimin and Taehyung are, normally, just boyfriends.

“A lot. It’s been a while since I didn’t cut them, it’s getting long.”

‘I love it like this’, Jimin wants to say, but he just shrugs.

The door opens on someone Jimin has seen before, when he got his hair dyed.

“Hi chef.”

“Hi Minjae. This is Jimin, he wants to work here to try what being a hairdresser is.”

Minjae nods as he drops his bag at the back of the salon and gets ready to welcome the first customers.

It changes everything in Jimin’s plans.

Jimin doesn’t like changes. It’s not that Minjae doesn’t seem nice or anything, but Jimin loved the privacy they had with Hoseok, before the newcomer broke it.

“Jimin, do you feel going behind the counter and help Minjae with the transactions?”

Jimin nods, doesn’t know why he nods. He’s going to be too far from Hoseok.

“So, have you ever worked as a cashier, or anything of that sort?”

Jimin shakes his head. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. He doesn’t really remember what he did before Taehyung took him home. He was maybe just dead? Who knows?

“Alright,” Minjae starts explaining Jimin what every button is for, how to answer to the phone.

Jimin is a fast learner.

“Be his best friend or I’ll fucking rip your head off.”

Jimin looks up at Hoseok, but his observing is soon cut off by the door opening once again, and a girl stepping in. Long wavy hair, maybe a bit too long from Jimin’s point of view.

He smiles his best smile, and the woman answers with a bright smile.

“Hi, I wanted to know if it would be possible to have my hair cut now? Or do I need to take an appointment?”

Maybe she was attracted to Jimin because he smiled to her, but he can’t answer that question yet. It’s been…ten minutes since he worked here.

“Hum, you’ll have to ask my colleagues…I’m quite new here.” He smiles apologetically.

“Oh…” She turns to Minjae.

“We do take walk ins, go to Hoseok, the guy over there,” he says showing a direction with a loose hand.

“Seok, client!”


Jimin didn’t really realise that he was watching Hoseok’s reflection, as the counter is in a separate room.

It doesn’t change anything. He still can observe him when no clients are coming.

“Does anybody else work here?”

“Today? Yejin is supposed to come in an hour or so, and Minsoo is late.”

Jimin hums, looks around. He doesn’t like doing nothing. He misses Taehyung, a lot more than he thought he would. It’s boring, doing nothing. Doing nothing with Taehyung feels different.

The day will be long, but he has to do it.




Jungkook is sitting in his office, computer on, scrolling through pages of information.

He presses a button and a voice rings through the speakers.


“Min, can you bring me the folder number five?”

“Why don’t you get it yourself?”

Jungkook chuckles, eyes not leaving his screen once.

“Because I asked nicely, and you can’t refuse anything from me.”

Hyemin sighs and Jungkook hears her stand up from her chair.

“Thanks, love you.”

He hangs up, and a few minutes later he hears someone knock on his door.

“It’s opened!”

Hyemin pushes the door, holding a big folder, probably years of work. She drops it on Jungkook’s desk.

“I have no idea what you’re looking for, but that’s heavy, so you’ll put it down alone.” She says as she turns around to leave.

“Have you heard of that accident that happened…years ago?”

“Sure, which one?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“If you’d let me finish. It involved a family with their kid, or teenager.”


“The kid was a certain Kim Taehyung. Can you please get that folder? I think it was in 2010? Something like that.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

Jungkook goes back to scrolling, clicking, until he finds the internet article that talked about that accident.

“It was in 2013 and I had to fucking climb on the shelves to get it.”

“Thank you, love you.”

“Fuck you Jungkook, I could’ve died.”

“And I would’ve created a folder just for you. The heart folder.”

“You’re such a pain to work with.” She whines.

“That’s why I pay you a lot, so you stay.” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.




Jimin’s lips taste the best when he’s crying.

Taehyung’s alone at home, for the first time in months, and all the sexual frustration he felt, because he’s not going to hide the fact that he wants Jimin more than just as a doll, just makes him moody. And Jimin isn’t even there to suffer through Taehyung’s mood swings.

Jimin’s skin feels the best when he’s trembling.

It would be a mistake to imagine that Taehyung feels bad when Jimin goes feral. It would be a big mistake to think that. It’s even better than drugs, and Taehyung gets off to that. Hearing Jimin scream is like hearing him moan and seeing him crave attention from the same person that tortures him has Taehyung impressed at how fucked up a brain can be.

Jimin smells the best when he smells like Taehyung.

Possessiveness is something Taehyung feels when he thinks about Jimin. About the fact that Jimin is his doll and no-one else’s. He took so long to teach him that, to teach Jimin that he’s nothing without him. It was a hard journey, but Taehyung couldn’t be prouder of the result.

Jimin’s eyes shine the most when they look at him.

The power he holds over the man has his mind spin around, fuzzy with desire. He wants Jimin more than anybody would want anyone.

Taehyung closes his eyes. The simple thought of Jimin screaming, begging for release sending a wave of pleasure through his naked body. He doesn’t need to force the images to come for them to flood his mind. His hands caress his skin, run down his chest, on his thighs, like he’s trying to imagine Jimin’s feather touch. He licks his lips, tries to recall the taste of Jimin’s own when they kissed.

He groans when one of his hand finally closes around his cock, already leaking, and another wave of pleasure crashes down on his body.

Jimin would feel so nice around him, so obedient, like a flawless doll.

Taehyung takes a deep breath, doesn’t want to rush it, doesn’t want to miss one sensation, from the bedsheets under his body to the chill air whirling on his skin. He doesn’t move his hand until he can’t take it anymore, and the teasing becomes too much.

Jimin’s mouth would look so good around his cock, he’d take it so deep because he wouldn’t have a choice. He’s just a doll.

Taehyung opens his eyes and looks next to him. One of Jimin’s favorite dresses is here, laying next to him on the king size bed. Taehyung grabs it with his free hand and brings it closer to his nose, taking a lungful of Jimin’s smell, of his own perfume. Jimin smells like lemon soap, or citrus.

He loves it. He releases a shaking breath, cock twitching in his hand and a bead of precome oozing out of the tip. Fuck, Jimin just smells so good, and thinking that Jimin will probably wear that dress again has his body react way over the top. He can’t help it, when he brings the fabric down to his crotch and starts rubbing it over his cock, hips jerking at the sensation.

“My pretty doll…”

He mumbles, back arching as he rubs the dress faster against his skin, biting his lip to keep his moans down.

He imagines Jimin wearing that dress after he came on it, and that’s almost enough for his orgasm to hit him like a truck. He needs to see it, he needs to see Jimin wear a ruined dress, just to feel more powerful.

Taehyung rolls on his stomach, dress under him, and starts grinding against it, slowly. His cock slides against the expensive fabric, precome staining the dress. Taehyung feels blissed out by that situation, almost overwhelmingly horny. He could come anytime.

The dress has a wet spot where Taehyung kept rubbing his cock, and where he drooled on it, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck…such a good d-doll…”

He feels the familiar heat pool inside his lower stomach, and he lets out a loud moan as he comes all over the dress, rubbing his cock in his own mess, totally euphoric, floating on that drug-like ecstasy.

Taehyung sighs, closes his eyes and lets his body relax, holding the dress close to him and falling asleep like that. Jimin knows he’s not allowed here anyway.




Jungkook has been flipping through pages for hours, looking for information, he ignores what exactly. Something that would help him grab the character. The accident file is laying on one corner of the desk, Jungkook hasn’t land an eye on it yet. Hyemin is sitting on the sofa, on her phone.

“You should go home.”

“No, I’m fine. You need company. And you need me to send you home when it’s late.”

Jungkook chuckles, flipping another page.

“Taehyung has an aunt. Can you please check if you find anything for Kim Young Suk in the files? She’s born in 1967 in Busan. The 13th of April.”

“See, you need me here.” She smirks as she stands up, leaving the room to go try to find the folder.

Jungkook sighs, rubbing his nose bridge. He’s tired. He could simply go and spy on Taehyung, would probably get a lot of more interesting things like that but it would be too dangerous and illegal. Taehyung is intriguing, Jungkook must say.

“I should probably look up for someone called Jimin.”

He thinks out loud.


Hyemin is back with a thick folder, or two. Yes, two folders. Jungkook eyes her.

“What? Not my fault there’s so much. It’s all because of the trial after the accident.”

Jungkook nods.

“Can you find anything about a guy named Jimin?”

“You have no idea how many people are called Jimin.”

“Look in the area, anyone with something unusual, use your contacts. And tomorrow we’re going to talk to that Youngsuk. She could have some information about Taehyung.”

Hyemin nods and vanishes through the door. Jungkook spends a few more hours reading about the accident, head hurting and words almost too small and too numerous for his poor tired brain. Still, a detail catches his attention.

The accident that happened on the 1st of January 2013 left no survivors.

Jungkook grabs his phone and dials a number.

“Namjoon. Move your ass in here, I have a fucking problem.”




The day was long. Very long. Very too long.

Jimin’s glad when it ends, he’s glad when he lives the suffocating shampoo and coloration scented space. He’s even happier when he says Taehyung waiting for him, his eyes as dark as the night.


“I need more time…”

“I know, but how did it go?”

“He accepted that I work for him for a while!” Jimin smiles widely.

Taehyung smiles fondly, running a hand through the other’s hair.

“That’s good. Let’s go home.”

“Mhm. Maybe I’ll be able to cut your hair, one day.”

To that, Taehyung pinches the back of Jimin’s neck, pushing him forward.

“Don’t forget your place, doll.”

Jimin stays silent after that, as they walk home. Jimin is freezing, but he won’t say anything. And he’s sure Taehyung knows; he just enjoys torturing him too much. Dolls don’t feel cold.




“It’s fucking 2 AM you better have a really good reason to drag me out of my bed.”

Namjoon’s voice sounds tired, but Jungkook is too excited to care.

“Ok, listen. I got that guy who came to my office saying he was suspicious of a client of his salon because he acted weird.”

Namjoon hums, probably sitting on his bed according to the shuffling Jungkook hears on the phone.

“So, I looked up for infos about that Taehyung, and guess what?”

“He has wings?” Namjoon yawns.

“No…would’ve been dope. But it’s even better.”

“He has wings and horns.”

“What are you even describing?”

“You for waking me up, you demon.”

Jungkook laughs at that, but soon recovers his seriousness.

“Kim Taehyung is dead.”

The line stays silent for a while, Namjoon processing the information.

“Wait. So, you’re telling me that the guy your client has suspicions on is…dead?”

“Mhm. So, move your ass here and help me. Can you take your best team and like, go interrogate his aunt? Please?”

Jungkook can almost see Namjoon frown and grab his glasses.

“It’s…02:23…I’ll be there in half an hour. I swear what I wouldn’t do for you.”

The last part is mumbled, but Jungkook still smiles widely.

“Thank you Joonie!”

“Do you even sleep sometimes?”

“I’m honestly about to pass out,” Jungkook laughs emptily.

“I’m not surprised.”

The conversation ends here, and Jungkook takes benefit from those thirty minutes of wait to close his eyes, and probably fall asleep if the loud smack on his table and the loud yelp he lets out is any indication.

“You woke me up and you dare fall asleep?”

“How did you enter…?”

“Your lovely receptionist was sleeping on her desk at the reception.”

Jungkook’s eyes open wide.

“She hasn’t left?”

Namjoon shakes his head dramatically.

“She begged me to drag you home.”

Jungkook eyes Namjoon, lips pinched.

“She’d never do that. I gave you an exemplar of the keys. Fuck, I’m dumb.”

Namjoon finally let’s out a loud giggle, loving the face Jungkook made when he though his co-worker was really sleeping downstairs.

“Now that you’re awake, I need more information over that case.”

Jungkook hums and pushes the numerous folders in Namjoon’s direction, head falling back between his arms.

“I get it, sleep tight.”

“M’not sleeping, I’m relaxing.”

“Relax tight then.” Namjoon snorts.

“Fuck you, read through the stuff I’m too lazy to explain.”

Namjoon hums and starts reading, and it’s not long before he hears Jungkook softly snoring. It’s almost relaxing, and cute. It’s fucking adorable, and maybe does Namjoon snap some pictures, just for his private source of happiness.

It takes Namjoon three hours to go through every folder, read every information, and get more and more astounded by what he reads.

“That aunt…We’ll go interrogate her personally.”

“Mhm, I feel like that case is going to be very interesting.” Jungkook mumbles.

“Oh, you’re awake?”

“Yeah, and if you may please delete the pictures you took of me.”

“Ah,” Namjoon sighs “you’re no fun.”

Then after a moment, while Namjoon is tidying the desk up.

“You should go home Kook, it’s fucking late.”

“I’m too tired to drive, could you?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, extending a hand for Jungkook to grab and pulling him out from behind his desk. Jungkook shamelessly letting himself fall in Namjoon’s arms.

“Sometimes, I wonder if you’re not secretly trying to take advantage of me.”

“Always.” Jungkook mumbles against the crook of Namjoon’s neck.

Namjoon laughs, dragging a half-asleep Jungkook outside to his car.

“I don’t know what’s worse, you tired as fuck or you drunk as fuck.”

Jungkook groans, the cold air waking him up a bit. He pushes Namjoon away from him and walks alone to the car.

“Me drunk, because there’s always that risk I’ll throw up in your car.”

Jungkook opens the door and sits down in the vehicle, waiting for Namjoon to climb on the driver’s side.

When the car starts rolling, it’s not long before Jungkook falls back asleep.




Hoseok’s life has become something worthy of an action movie. First, the suspicions, then Jimin asking to work with him. Hoseok can’t help but think Taehyung asked him to do it, to overcome any suspicion. But maybe he’s overthinking again. He hopes Jungkook can do something about it.

It’s been hard to sleep while thinking so much, while worrying. What if Jimin died tomorrow because they took too long to find the truth?


Hoseok jumps, looks up to see Seokjin on the sofa.


“You didn’t give up, did you?”

“Where were you yesterday?” Hoseok changes subjects.

“With a friend.”

Hoseok laughs dryly.

“Yoongi. I’m not dumb. Stop hiding things from me.”

“I didn’t want you to think any badly of him. I know you don’t like him.”

“It’s not him that I don’t like, it’s what he does.”

Hoseok takes his shoes off and walks to his room.

“Anyway, I’m exhausted. Good night.”

Seokjin sighs, standing up a few seconds later to join his own room.

He needs Hoseok to stop overworking himself and overthinking over people he doesn’t even know. Taehyung is just a client, nothing more. And they have no clue who that Jimin is personally. Why does he care so much?




Jimin is exhausted but he knows he can’t sleep, he knows he’s too dumb to fall asleep, but his body won’t listen, and he has a hard time keeping his eyes open. He’s back on his throne, in one of his favorite dresses, but still. He’s tired and he wants to sleep.


Jimin feels tears run down his cheeks before he can even control them, and a sob shake his body before he can even realize he’s crying. He’s just too exhausted, he had such a long day and he just needs some mercy. He’ll end up dying if it goes on like that.

“Taehyung, please…”

His voice is just a whine, desperate. He hears step come his way.

“Doll? Why are you crying?”

Taehyung sounds worried, but Jimin has learned to never rely on how Taehyung sounds to know how he feels.

“I-I’m so…so tired…”

Taehyung pouts, wiping Jimin’s tears away.

“Is my doll tired?”

Jimin nods, leaning against Taehyung’s hand, breath shaky.

“Do you really think you need to sleep?”

“I-I’ll be so good…just…just tonight, please…”

Taehyung complies. Not that he cares about Jimin’s health that much, but he can’t have him fall asleep in the middle of the day. It would only make Hoseok even more aware of Jimin’s situation. Taehyung doesn’t want anyone coming and taking Jimin away from him.

“Alright, doll.”

Taehyung lifts Jimin up and carries him to his room, for the second time in a week. It’s too much, he knows it, but he can’t risk Jimin raising attention.

Jimin won’t even sleep that much, he’s too aware of his surroundings, to afraid Taehyung will change his mind in the middle of the night but lying down feels good.

“Good night, doll.”

Jimin doesn’t answer, forces his eyes closed in an attempt to sleep. He can feel Taehyung’s breath on his neck and that relaxes him.


He doesn’t remember if he slept, when he wakes up in the morning.




The sun shines through the curtains and Jungkook whines, hiding his face in the cushions. Those aren’t his. He knows he’s not home, but he doesn’t worry about having been kidnapped.

“Joon, I’m hungry.”

“Then lift your ass up and come. Breakfast is ready.”

Jungkook mumbles something as he climbs out of bed, hair sticking in every direction,

“Why am I not home?”

“I didn’t have the keys to your amazing high-security castle.”

Jungkook looks down at himself, frowning.

“Ah, I forgot them?”

“You were so tired, I’m not surprised. Anyway, we can go and grab them later. But first we need to go to that aunt you talked about.”

Jungkook nods, stuffing cornflakes down his throat. ¨

“Mhm. I’d be really interested to know what she thinks of someone taking her nephew’s identity.”

They eat silently after that, and once they’re done, get ready to head out.

“So, you’re saying I should wear a police uniform?”

“We don’t have time for you to head home and I refuse you take those filthy clothes. She’ll think you’re some sort of ex-dealer.”

Jungkook’s nose scrunches unpleasantly.

“Thanks for the compliment. I’ll go take a shower.”

Jungkook comes back minutes later, hair damp and police uniform fit around his body.

Namjoon looks up, a bit surprised.

“You look like a porn actor.”

“Ah, your honesty will kill me. Let’s go?”

“Let’s go.”



This officially turned into an OT7, I'm proud of that. And omg the amount of original characters idk what got into me.



Thanks for reading


Chapter Text

Taehyung is the loveliest being, there are too many original characters and I fucking love what I came up with.

and as I love the reactions I got, English is not my first language :D now be surprised pls




They decided to depart early, so they could take their time. Namjoon hates rushing, and Jungkook would wake up early anyway. It’s a little past seven when they’re in the car, driving to Mrs Kim, or Cheon if Jungkook refers to the earliest actualities. She got married with a seemingly rich man, if he read what stood in the files when he was half-asleep right. It’s a long way, maybe an hour from the city center.

“How do we ask her?”

Jungkook turns his head to Namjoon, a brow raised in barely contained surprise.

“I thought it was your job to tell bad news?”

“Telling bad news, yeah,” Namjoon starts, gaze still focused on the road “but to stir the knife in a wound is something else.”

Jungkook groans at that.

“We need her help; it could save a life.”

They stay silent for the rest of the ride, Jungkook adjusting the collar of the navy blue uniform Namjoon lent to him. Namjoon’s voice resounds in the car after a few more minutes of quietness.

“I hope you’re right.”

“I trust my guts, Namjoon, and that client didn’t lie. I knew, even before I looked it up.”

A pause, where Jungkook looks through the window to the rapidly passing landscape.

“I just didn’t think it would be that intense.”

Namjoon hums as they turn left in an intersection; there they drive a bit slower.

“Why didn’t you go to Taehyung’s house directly?” Namjoon asks, more for the pleasure of discussing than for an answer.

“I need proofs. I can’t barge into a house and yell accusations if I don’t hold them.”

They stop in front of a little house, one belonging to a proletarian family, or maybe the aunt lives alone. Her kids, if she had some, must be living with their own families by now.

Namjoon opens the door and steps out of the car, and Jungkook takes a deep breath before he mimics Namjoon’s actions.


Jungkook shakes his head, deciding to go for honesty.

“I’m not used to that, I’m used to taking people into filature, not…interrogating them.”

Namjoon turns his head to him.

“Why did you choose to change plans, then?”

Again, a shake of his head as he reaches Namjoon’s position.

“No, I didn’t change plans…That’s why you’re here. I have no power to interrogate people by myself, I’m not a police officer. It just seemed to be the best thing to do.”

Namjoon climbs the three wooden steps that separate him from the main door, and he shakes the little golden carillon used as a bell for this occasion. It gives the house a retro vibe that, if Namjoon wasn’t on work-mode, would be much appreciated.

“What was your last case?”

“You know that…couple? The woman…Mrs Sim…Chim…Lim…the fuck I remember; she told me she thought her man was cheating on her and paid me loads of useless money to get me to put him into a hole.”

“Oh yeah. How did it go?”

But Jungkook hasn’t time to answer before the door opens. Now, the reaction to have in front of police officer ringing at your door are not very varied.

“Did something happen to Chulseon? Oh, I told him to be careful…”

They both look at each other, then at the woman who should be around fifty years old but looks like she dumped her face into the fountain of Youth. She looks splendid, and not only because of the make-up covering her face.

“Nothing happened to Chulseon…Who is that?”

“My husband, of course,” she beckons them inside with a wave of her hand “if my husband is safe, why did you come here?”

They don’t wait for a second invitation to step inside, met with the strong smell of house perfume and old furniture.

“We came here to talk about Kim Taehyung.” Namjoon starts.

A freezing wind blows on Mrs Kim’s face as she slowly turns around.


Namjoon is sorry, Jungkook feels horrible for doing that to her.

“Taehyung is dead…since…years.”

Namjoon pinches his lips together.

“I know. That’s our problem.”

She looks more than surprised. It’s as if they were digging a deep buried wound to sprinkle salt on it. They feel like monsters.


Jungkook is the one to speak this time, coughing to clear his voice.

“Someone stole his identity. We need to know if he had any…siblings, friends, anything.”

Namjoon can’t say if Mrs Kim is about to faint or jump on them with a knife, but he would understand both possibilities.

“Taehyung…doesn’t have any siblings. He has cousins, my daughter for example, Yeolmin. But…no siblings. As for friends, you’d need to ask his school. I didn’t see him that often.”

They can see tears starting to gather in the woman’s eyes, and they’re not willing to push any further. They’ll go to that school to find more information, hoping it still exists.

Before they go, Mrs Kim holds them back, shuffling in her drawers until she takes what looks like a torn up little notebook.

“This belonged to Taehyung. I never read it. I just thought about it. Maybe you’ll find…things. Please, bring it back when you’re done,” she feels her throat constrict as she goes on “it’s very important for me.”

Namjoon nods as he takes the notebook, shoving it in his pocket.

“Thank you for your time, Mrs Kim.” Namjoon and Jungkook bow their head.

“Ah, just call me Youngsuk.”


With that, they’re gone, the heavy atmosphere following them until they enter the car.

“I hated that so much.”





“Do you want to wash hair today?” Hoseok asks as they prepare the salon.

To that Jimin nods, a smile appearing on his lips.

“I’d love that.”

“I’ll ask Minjae to show you how we do it.”

“Is there a way to wash hair?”

Hoseok nods as he places the brushes and all needed stuff in front of the big mirrors, on the shelves indicated for that.

“We massage the scalp to relax the hair bulbs. You’ll see.”

Jimin vaguely remembers the massage Hoseok gave him the day he came to dye his hair. The color is still fresh, and no roots have ruined it.

Waiting for Minjae to come is boring, though. Today, if he understood well, Yejin couldn’t come, and Minsoo is late. It appears to be current.

Jimin is standing behind the counter, playing with his fingers until the first client arrives, or Minjae. Anyone. Hoseok seems as bored for the first twenty minutes.

Finally, Minjae walks him, panting.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“Is it going to become a trend?” Hoseok asks from his place in the salon.

“No, no, it won’t.”

“You tell that to Minsoo.”

Minjae laughs nervously.

“He…should maybe start a bit later, and finish later too?”

“He would come late anyway; I feel like waking up on time just isn’t something he’s familiar with. Jae, you’re going to teach Jimin how to wash hair.”

Minjae looks at Jimin and nods, then looks around.

“On who exactly?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes, sitting on one of the seats reserved to clients. It’s a calm day today, but they’re not here to complain.

“Wait for a client to come.”

“Or we could wash your hair for practice?” Jimin timidly asks.

Hoseok looks at him, a bit taken aback.

“Me? Well…I have nothing against it.”

Jimin sets his mind on that, fingers tingling at the mere thought of touching Hoseok’s hair. He doesn’t remember touching Taehyung’s hair, but he remembers they felt soft under his fingertips. He wonders if Hoseok’s are as silky.

Running a hand through Hoseok’s shorter hair is somehow relaxing. The man laying all his trust into Jimin’s hands. Or does he?

“I’ve never thought about washing Boss’s hair.”

“Because there’s no need to. We’re just doing it for practice.”

“Jimin, I feel jealous he lets you wash his hair.” Minjae murmurs to Jimin, making the latter smile proudly.

“Because you never needed any training, Jae. Stop being so childish.”

Some movement can be caught at the front door, as Jimin opens the faucet to wet Hoseok’s hair. Minjae, with an eye on Jimin’s action, greets the newcomers.

“Hi Minsoo, happy to see that you’re not as late.”

Hoseok looks in the mirror as best as he can, a frown deforming his lips when he makes out Seokjin’s silhouette.

“Hello Hoseok.” Seokjin’s voice rings strangely in Hoseok’s ears.

Or maybe it doesn’t, but Hoseok isn’t happy to see him here.

“Seokjin. What do you need?”

Hoseok didn’t mean to sound that harsh, but he’s not sorry.

“My hair has gotten quite long, you see? And from all I know, we’re still roommate, and as much as you wish you could ignore me for the next years, it’s going to be hard. Unless you find somewhere else to live.”

Tempting, really, but Hoseok must admit that he doesn’t have a choice; at least not now.

“I’m desirous to tell you to take a razor and shave those locks but…Sit down, Minsoo will take care of you.”

It’s not a question, and the concerned man hurries to take everything he needs.

“What are you doing, sitting down here?” Seokjin asks, and then sees Jimin “Oh, hi. I didn’t know you were working here.”

Jimin shakes his head, grabbing the shampoo Minjae shows him and pouring some into his palm.

“I’m just trying new things out…as I don’t really know what I want to do for a living.”

“Ah,” Seokjin smiles “you could come and work in my office. It’s nothing fancy but if you want.”

Jimin’s head perks up in interest.

“What do you work in?”

“I work in boring stuff like economy, business, those kinds of stuff.”

“But…you must be loaded?”

Seokjin chuckles, then shrugs as best as he can without disturbing Minsoo’s work.

“I guess I am.”

“Why would you have a roommate?” Jimin is more and more curious, but it doesn’t seem to bother Seokjin the slightest.

And Hoseok is curious too, yeah, why does he need a roommate?

“I refused to live alone, and it’s nice to have company,” Seokjin steals a glance at Hoseok who closed his eyes “as annoying as he can be, he’s really nice to live with.”

“Fuck you, I’m not annoying.”

Seokjin doesn’t answer. The conversation stops.

“So, now you gotta press on the sides, like that,” Minjae shows Jimin how, hands over the latter’s own, and Jimin focuses on his lesson. He wishes Taehyung will let him wash his hair. He’d be more than happy.

He can’t keep thoughts of Taehyung from crossing his mind, whatever he does against it. He doesn’t do much against it.

“How is it going, with Taehyung?” Seokjin asks.

“Uh…good. I guess. As good as it can go.”

Seokjin hums, satisfied, and Hoseok shifts uncomfortably. Jimin looks down.

“Did I press too hard?”

“No, I’m alright.”

Seokjin knows well enough what is crossing Hoseok’s mind, but he won’t let those paranoid thoughts ruin Jimin’s life. Jimin doesn’t seem too concerned anyway, or he does an amazing job at hiding it.

“I wish Tae will accept that I wash his hair sometimes, it feels nice to do.”

Jimin thinks out loud, and they all coo at this. All, except for Hoseok who stays silent. Fuck, he just hopes Jimin is out of that mess. He knows it’s a mess.

He hates being compared to that man when all he saw from him is how he fucked Jimin up, even if no-one else sees it. He hopes Jungkook came up with something. He’ll need to ask.

Jimin finishes shampooing Hoseok’s hair, the chemical scent mixing with something floral and soon filling the room up, until another customer enters the salon and the gush of fresh air dissipates all other perfumes.

“Welcome, I’ll be yours in a minute.” Minjae smiles.




“It looks old.”

“It looks like every school in the area,” Namjoon corrects.

“As I said, old.”

Jungkook pushes the glass doors and enters the building. It’s silent, it must be working hours.

“It’s been such a long time since I went to school.”

“Don’t lie, you’re still young.”

Jungkook snorts, looking at the signs for the way to take.

“I know, but it feels like I didn’t come in those places in decades.”

“If you feel like it’s been decades, how should I feel now?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, just starts walking down a long corridor, Namjoon following right behind.

They end up in front of a white door, a symbol indicating Director’s Office in golden letters.


Namjoon chuckles before knocking.

“Enter.” A voice booms from the other side of the door, and Jungkook pushes on the doorknob to open it.

An elder man is sitting on a large chair made of leather, almost swallowed by the size of it. The desk covering half of his body is made of dark wood, a very old style setting for a seemingly old-style director. It occurs, he’s been in this position for at least a generation.

“Good morning Sirs, what can I do for you?”

The man sounds unfazed, as if it was a routine for him to be visited by police officers; or maybe he’s seen worse.

“We had questions concerning one of your students…from six years ago, or more, Mr…” Namjoon looks for a sign on the desk, nodding to himself once he finds it “Mr. Lee.”

“I’m listening.”

“Kim Taehyung, born the 13th of May 1995.”

The director’s face seems to tense a bit as he reaches for the phone placed at one corner of the big table.

“Let me call my secretary, she will be here any minute. She will be far more competent than me to help you in your…quest.”

They nod, waiting for the woman to arrive, and once she does, follow her to her office.

“Taehyung…I haven’t heard this name in years.” She says, heels clicking on the hard floor, resounding in the whole building, it seems.

Once they arrive at her office, she swings her body in their direction, bowing her entire body at ninety degrees.

“I’m Mrs. Hwan, but you can call me Sulgi.”

She walks to a big metallic shelf, with dozens of drawers all tagged with different names.

She opens the 2013 one and starts searching through the files. It remind Jungkook of his everyday life.

“I’m Kim Namjoon and this is my co-worker, Shim Ryungmin.”

Sulgi looks at them sceptically, as if she half believed the veracity of those information, but she doesn’t really care, she’s in no right to ask them about that. She pulls a file out of the drawer she just opened and lays it opened on her desk.

“Kim Taehyung…” she says to herself, finger grazing over multiple names, and when she finds it, she turns multiple pages until she spots what she was looking for.

“Taehyung, here. Born May ninety-five.”

“What can you tell us about him?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, eyes following her moving finger until she stops on a name.

“I can’t really tell you anything about that boy…I’m sorry for what happened to him and his family. I hope there’s no trouble. His main teacher was Mr. Song.”

“It’s confidential,” Namjoon says before stepping closer “can we maybe take this file, or maybe have a copy of the entirety of it?”

The secretary nods, hurrying to the adjacent room where the big printer stands proudly, taking half of the space.

“It will take a bit of time,” she apologizes.

“No worry,” Jungkook, or Ryungmin for the occasion, answers back.

It takes exactly twenty-five minutes until every page has been scanned and copied, and Mrs. Hwan hands them a pack of documents.

Namjoon takes them and bows, Jungkook mimicking him before they both escape the room.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Sulgi smiles, bowing her head.

“Pleasure shared.”

As they leave the building, Namjoon remembers the notebook he shoved in his pocket a few hours ago and pulls it out of the little compartment. He opens the first page, sitting on the passenger sit.

“Can you drive?”

Jungkook nods, even if Namjoon doesn’t see it, with his eyes riveted on the small writing.

It’s all about classmates, experiences, and love.

How do I tell my parents I’m in love with him?

And next to that question a little picture has been glued there, coming from a polaroid and low quality, but still, a picture. Under that picture two letters, initials, have been written with utter care.

“P.J… It could be P. Jimin, no?” Namjoon asks Jungkook, staring at the picture.

Jungkook glances at the notebook.

“Could be. We need to ask my client. But first we need to go talk to that Mr. Song.”

Namjoon couldn’t agree less.

“Does your client have a name?”

Jungkook nods, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Of course, but it’s confidential. You’ll meet him anyway.”

The way to the professor’s domicile goes by faster than they thought it would and they’re soon standing in front of a big porch. If they compare it to Taehyung’s aunt’s house, it’s a castle.

Jungkook climbs the range of stairs leading to the door, then rings the bell and waits. Namjoon stays back this time, looking around.

The man opening the door doesn’t seem that old, maybe a bit more than forty, but maybe a bit less too. Jungkook bows politely before his voice emerges, soft and polite.

“Good afternoon, Mr Song, I’m Shim Ryungmin, and I work for Seoul’s National Police,” Jungkook can almost hear Namjoon’s smirk, but he doesn’t pay attention to it “may I and my coworker Kim Namjoon ask you a few questions about one of your former student?”

Mr. Song steps aside, allowing Jungkook to penetrate the house. He then beckons Namjoon to come too, with a smile.

“I can’t let you outside, Mister. Would you maybe want something to drink?”

Namjoon shakes his head, politely declining.

“A glass of water would be very nice, thank you.”

Mr. Song invites them to sit down on good-looking sofas, doubtlessly more expensive than necessary.

They both sit down, facing the older man once he comes back with a glass of water, he puts in front of Jungkook, on the marble low table.

Placing both hands on his knees, Mr. Song looks at both police officers, curiosity painting his face.

“So, what is it about?”

“It’s about Kim Taehyung,” Namjoon starts, and that name only suffices to throw a cold breeze in the room. Mr. Song clears his throat, looking in the distance.

“Yeah, that kid was something. Really sweet. I knew his parents too, loving, caring, I’m very sorry for what happened to them. But why him, suddenly?”

Jungkook puts his glass down after having taken a few gulps out of it.

“This part is confidential, but do you know if he had any friends, best friends or anything?”

Mr. Song’s eyes shift upwards, as he thinks hard.

“Hm…he was often with a group of friends…now if I can remember…One was called Jiwoon, if I remember well. Lee Jiwoon. Another one…it was a girl, Sungmi, something like that…Park Sungmi? I think she was in the same class as him.”

At that, Namjoon excuses himself, running out to the car to take hold of the school file copy they received from Mrs. Hwan. He then comes back into the house, closing the door behind him.

“Alright, so you said Lee Jiwoon and…Park Sungmi. Yes, she’s there.”

Namjoon takes a pen out of one of his inside pockets, clicking on the plunge and circling the names or writing them down as Mr. Song lists them.

“There was that really well-mannered kid, always helped Taehyung for his homework…”

Mr. Song needs a few more seconds to recall the name of that student, and for the time being, Namjoon reads the list again.

“Daehyun was the kid’s name, but I can’t remember his surname.”

Namjoon searches for a Daehyun in the list of students, spotting the name a few seconds later.

“I have a Choi Daehyung there, where they in the same class?”

“Yes, yes, they were,” the teacher nods.

“Where there any other friends you can recall?”

“Hum…Oh, that one from another class. They talked sometimes, but the kid was rather the asocial type. His name was…Chinhwa. Kang Chinhwa. It’s not someone you forget easily.”

“Why is that?” Jungkook asks finally, after minutes of staying silent.

“The kid was what kids would call weird. He made himself known by his creepily silent behavior.”

The man then shakes a hand, as to dismiss what he just said.

“I’m not saying the kid was creepy, but he was way calmer than any of his comrades.”

To that, both officers nod and stand up.

“Well, then, those names will help us in our case. Thank you very much Mister Song.”

The teacher bows his head as they live.

Jungkook sighs loudly, stretching in front of their car.

“Driving?” He asks.

“You can. Let’s go back to your place.”

“You mean my office?”

“Hum, you literally sleep in there.”

Jungkook laughs at that, sitting down in the car for what seems to be the hundredth time today.

“What time is it?” Jungkook asks to no-one in particular, as his eyes land on the car’s digital clock.

“We departed from your house at 7 am…it’s 3 pm. It’s still early but I’m tired.”

“Let’s go back, then we can think about what to do next.”

Jungkook nods as he starts the car.

“That Chinhwa, I feel like he’s going to play an important role in that case.”

Namjoon can only agree to that.




Jimin doesn’t come home too late. The day was a calm day, and Hoseok thought it wouldn’t be any use for him to stay only to stare at bottles of shampoo. Jimin has no way to call Taehyung, because he’s not allowed to have a phone. Taehyung still doesn’t trust him with that.

So, he walks home. The walk feels good, refreshing, and by the time he’s in front of his house he has made his mind up.

He will ask Taehyung if he can wash his hair.

He silently opens the door, but he should know better than to try and be silent. Taehyung’s sitting on Jimin’s throne, naked from what Jimin can see, and a blush creeps up his face. He holds his breath as he takes a few more steps into the house. He knows he can’t be mistaking when he sees Taehyung’s arm muscle roll under his skin as the forearm does up and down motion, and the liquid shining on the tan skin can’t be mistaken for anything but precome. Jimin doesn’t know if it’s because it’s Taehyung, or because he didn’t have any sexual intercourse since ages, but he feels something coil in his lower stomach. Pleasure.

Taehyung smiles when he sees the doll standing there, eyes staring at the way his hand encircles his cock.

“Hello, doll.”

Jimin keeps staring for a few more long seconds before shaking his head.


If possible, Jimin’s cheeks burn even more, and he’s not sure what he must do. Did he interrupt something? Yes, obviously he did, but Taehyung doesn’t look angry at all, no, he’s amused.

“Come closer, doll. Tell me, how was your day?”

Taehyung doesn’t seem perturbed by Jimin’s presence. It’s as if it didn’t matter. He’s still slowly pumping his cock as he asks Jimin about his day, and as he asks him to undress. It’s nothing abnormal, Taehyung would either let him walk around naked or in fancy dresses, so Jimin doesn’t think much of it as he undoes his shorts and pulls his loose t-shirt over his head.

“Now, doll, you interrupted me.”

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t…Hoseok sent me home earlier and…I didn’t have a phone to call you so…”

Jimin stutters, looking down on the ground, not willing to cross gaze with Taehyung.

“Go in my room and lay on the bed,” Taehyung says, voice firm.

A voice Jimin would never go against, not if he wants to live.

He scurries to the bedroom; hearing Taehyung stand up from his throne. Jimin can’t delete than image from his mind. That image of Taehyung jerking of on his throne. He lays down on the bed, on his back, and waits for Taehyung to join him.

He doesn’t know what Taehyung is going to do, but he thinks he has some ideas. He might be dumb, but he knows how things work, for that part at least. And if he looks down, he can see his cock slowly come to life as the thought of Taehyung jerking off fills his mind.

“I wanted to wait a little bit longer, but,” Taehyung looks down at Jimin’s genitals “seeing how your body reacts, I guess you want it as much as I do.”

Jimin looks at Taehyung as the man approaches, climbing on the bed, naked too. Jimin is way less uncomfortable than he thought he’d be, and Taehyung doesn’t seem less intimidating without his clothes.

The first kiss they share has Jimin moan, back arching. Or maybe it’s because Taehyung rolls his hips skilfully against Jimin’s erected cock, brushing their proof of arousal against each other.

Jimin gasps into the kiss, hands coming up to grab two fistfuls of Taehyung’s hair, suddenly reminded of the question he wanted to ask. He breaks the kiss, breath heavy in his lungs.

“T-today I l-learned how to…hng…how to k- how to wash hair…”

Jimin squirms under Taehyung’s attentions, the kisses against his neck, the licking, the nibbling. It’s as if his body was reacting to years of forced chastity. It’s only been months. Crazy how slow time can pass. Taehyung lowers the kisses to Jimin’s chest as the man tries to continue the summary of his day.

“And I was w-wondering…If you’d…l-let me wash yours…?”

Taehyung lifts his head up, fingers replacing his mouth around Jimin’s left nipple, and softly tugging at it. Jimin closes his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips.

“Who tells you I’d let you touch my hair?”

Jimin moans, shaking his head.

“I…I just asked…”

“Don’t ask such stupid questions.”

Taehyung groans as he grips Jimin’s knees to spread his legs.

“I’ll fuck you back to your place, spending time with Hoseok made you forget what you are, doll.”

Jimin doesn’t try to resist, his body becoming pliant as Taehyung manhandles him to lay on his stomach. Jimin sighs when he feels cold air on his hole before he realises it’s Taehyung blowing on it.

“How loose you will be once I’m done with you,” Taehyung mutters to himself.

Jimin whimpers at that statement, trying to look behind him to see what Taehyung is doing. It’s to no avail, really, because when he feels something wet prod at his entrance, he doesn’t think about looking back anymore, and rather closes his eyes and bites his lower lip to keep the moans from escaping. Fuck, Taehyung is eating him out.

One of Jimin’s hand fly behind his back, trying to grasp Taehyung’s hair to yank him away, but that hand is caught by a bigger one, warm, comforting.

“T-Tae…t-too much…”

Taehyung doesn’t bother answering, and instead licks at Jimin’s hole with a flat tongue, feeling the chill coursing through Jimin’s body as if he was the one experiencing it.

Jimin only moans louder, seems to forget everything about a former dignity he once held. He can feel precome ooze from his tip, and his mouth being constantly opened on loud gasps and whimpers has him drool on the cushion. Taehyung smiles over him once he deems having had enough of licking Jimin’s hole. He pushes three fingers into the gaped mouth, playing around with Jimin’s tongue or pushing the fingers down his throat.

Jimin chokes, throat closing and making him gag. Jimin reflexively tries to close his mouth, but Taehyung only makes a disapproving sound.

“Tsk, what a bad doll you are.”

Jimin whines as Taehyung pulls his fingers out of his mouth, tears prickling the corner of his eyes.

Taehyung pays attention to Jimin’s hole once again, and Jimin feels the tip of what he guesses to be Taehyung’s cockhead on his rim. He holds his breath, awaiting pain that never comes.

“Don’t be so tense. I’m not going to fuck you dry, what kind of monster do you think I am?”

Months before, Jimin would’ve snapped back, told Taehyung that he was the monster. Now, the thought doesn’t even cross his mind, no, Taehyung is such a perfect being.

Taehyung snatches the lube bottle from one of the multiple drawers surrounding the bed before coming back behind Jimin, who obediently stayed where he was.

It feels like hours before Jimin feels the coldness of the lube being directly poured onto his hole. His body twitches in an attempt to get away, but he knows better than that.

Instead, he waits for Taehyung to prepare him, as he thinks it’s what he’s about to do.

Taehyung’s fingers circle his hole before he pushes one past the muscle ring. Jimin just frowns for a few seconds before relaxing again, eyes closing once again. He trusts Taehyung to never hurt him, even if it’s what he’s been doing since the beginning. Emotionally or physically. But that, Jimin is too conditioned to realize.

The two other fingers that enter him go unnoticed, and Jimin is almost surprised when he feels Taehyung push his cock inside him. Surprised, but still unreactive. He’s too afraid that Taehyung’s mood swing will occur if he does anything wrong. Instead, he breathes deep, waiting for Taehyung to bottom out.

“Fuck, you feel good.”

Jimin can only trust those words, as he’s never really fucked himself, but the fact is, Taehyung feels good inside him, cock pulsing, hands gripping Jimin’s waist almost possessively, nails digging into the skin. Jimin let’s out a surprised cry when Taehyung starts moving, way faster than what he prepared himself for.


It’s not minutes before Taehyung found his prostate and starts pounding into it. Jimin goes limp on the bed, broken moans burning his throat, eyes rolling in the back of his head, hands tremblingly reaching behind to do something, Jimin’s brain hasn’t proceeded what yet.

Taehyung imprisons those hands in a firm lock, holding both of Jimin’s wrist in want hand. He spreads his legs for more stability as he fucks Jimin harder.

“Good doll…such a good doll, taking me so well.”

Jimin would’ve beamed if he was in a position to do so, but the cock shoved up his ass doesn’t really allow things of that sort.

Time seems to extend as Taehyung thrusts for the nth time, and Jimin takes it, heat boiling inside his body, only indication he’s about to come. Is he allowed? He doesn’t dare asking, to afraid of the answer. If he didn’t ask, he had no way to know right?

One last thrust, deeper, aiming right at his prostate, is enough for Jimin to dirty the bed with his load. And what load it is, after months without any sexual intercourse.

But Taehyung is not done with Jimin. Oh, no, he’s far from done.

“My pretty doll came already?” He asks in fake concern “What a shame, I’m not done with it.”

Jimin feels tears of oversensitivity, and maybe pain, roll down his cheeks and land on the cushion.

But who would be Taehyung if he cared?

Jimin is aware of that, of the fact that as nice as Taehyung is, or appears to be, he’s still the same monster he was on day one. Or at least, a part of Jimin knows that. The other part, brain-washed, can only think about the fullness his body is experiencing, as Taehyung starts thrusting again.

The firm grip Taehyung holds on Jimin’s waist leave angry half-moons, almost cutting skin. It hurts like that.

“What are you?”

Jimin hears the question, that is not the problem, but he can’t answer, not when he’s too busy choking on moans and pitiful sobs as Taehyung pounds onto his prostate for what seems to be the thousandth time. It’s not pleasurable anymore. But he’s just

“Your d-doll…”

Jimin can feel the smile, he knows Taehyung is smiling behind him, and fucking him with more ardor. Maybe Jimin will break here and now, and everything will end.

This is not a fairy tale.

“My doll, only mine. Don’t ever forget that,” Taehyung murmurs, voice rough in Jimin’s ear, slicing through his soul like a heated knife “don’t even fucking think you’re more than that.”

Jimin hurries to nod before his face is pressed against the cushion, making him choke on breath. He did nothing to piss Taehyung off, but a thing he learned is he doesn’t need to do much. Mood swings are still a part of their everyday life. Taehyung was just feeling in a chocking mood. Jimin should be used of that.

He’s not. It’s the first time they have sex after months, maybe years, because Jimin lost track of time. Maybe his birthday happened already, maybe his friends tried to call him. Maybe. Jimin sees the blur in his vision and he tries to blink the tears away. Why is he crying now out of all possible times he had to be sad?

Taehyung, if he notices the tears, doesn’t comment on them. He’s too busy chasing his own release. Jimin wonders, for a second, if he came already. For all he remembers, Taehyung always stayed by his sides, and if he brings two and two together, he only jerked off when Jimin wasn’t here. So, he started jerking off yesterday. Jimin would find it cute, he wants to find it cute.

It lasts a few more thrusts before Taehyung comes to a stop, nails scratching Jimin’s skin as his body leans forward, pushing his cock further into Jimin and emptying months of frustration into the poor boy. Doll. Into the lovely doll.

Jimin can’t keep the moan escaping his lips inside him.

“Fuck…so good…”

Jimin is happy. He’s happy he can make Taehyung feel good. He’s happy he’s of use for the man.

“I don’t think you learned your lesson.”

Taehyung is still deep inside Jimin, but his voice went from a groan to a robotic tone, emotionless.

“I-I’m your doll…I know…” Jimin whispers.

Taehyung clicks his tongue, grasping a fistful of Jimin’s hair and yanking his head back violently.

“If I say you didn’t learn your lesson, you say yes. Understood?”


Did Jimin dream the last peaceful days they spent together? Did spending time with Hoseok really mess up his conditioning? Or is Taehyung simply in a frustrated mood? Everything’s possible.

But how can Jimin learn his lesson better than by being fucked into the bed like a vulgar toy?

Taehyung is full of creativity.

“You know, doll, I drank a lot. It’s pretty boring…what do I say, it’s mortally boring when you’re not here.”

Jimin feels pride swell in his chest. Did Taehyung miss him?

“Drank so much, doll. This will be an amazing way to remind you your place.”

Jimin hears the smile in Taehyung’s voice, but he’s not comforted.


But he doesn’t need to hear the answer when he feels it. And as many possibilities as he comes up with, none of them make more sense than to say Taehyung is using him as a urinal. Jimin is Taehyung’s dumb human urinal. The heat Jimin feels in his stomach as Taehyung shamelessly let’s go inside him has him moan loudly, a hand flying to his mouth as his hole clenches around Taehyung’s softening cock.

Taehyung has a hand around Jimin’s neck, holding him down, other hand stroking almost tenderly he marks on one side of Jimin’s waist.

If Jimin puts the fact that he’s being used as a toilet aside, it could almost look like they were making love.

“What are you?” Taehyung sighs as the last trickle of piss make their way into Jimin’s body.

“Your doll…” Jimin answers, eyelids heavy.

He feels pressure on his own bladder and it’s not long before he needs to use the bathroom, but Taehyung is not about to move.

“I need to…”

Jimin blushes at the idea of wetting the bed, at the idea of being so pathetic. But he ignores if it’s embarrassment or hidden pleasure.

“Bathroom…” Jimin whispers, paining to keep control over his bladder. He’s so full of piss that isn’t his, and it just triggered his own needs.


Taehyung heard very well. Jimin knows that.

But he doesn’t react, doesn’t give Jimin a chance to stand up and go to the bathroom, no. No, he would never do that. Instead, he puts a hand around Jimin’s body and over his lower stomach, where the bladder is situated, and he presses it with all the strength he’s capable of. Being able of holding it would be a miracle.

“N-no I-”

But it’s too late, and Jimin’s already urinating right on the bed. He hears a sob from somewhere in the room and realizes it’s his.


“I knew you were of no use.”

Taehyung’s words hurt. Jimin doesn’t want to be useless, he wants to serve, he wants Taehyung to love him as much as he…

As much as he what?

“I-I’m sorry!”

And Taehyung really doesn’t have to do much before Jimin is stumbling on his words.

“D-don’t…Please don’t m-make me wear the p-pants…”

How is it called? Enhancement. Jimin is so convinced that Taehyung is about to make him wear tight pants that he forces his bladder to stop, as much as it hurts.


Taehyung is impressed, but it’s not the plan he had in mind, and he doesn’t like his plans to change.

“Did I tell you to stop?” While asking, he pulls out. “But well, if you want to clench, clench hard, I want no drop of my piss running out of your useless hole.”

Time extends as Taehyung slowly pushes himself off the bed and walks to one of his drawers, opens it, slowly, lacked wood making a soft sound as it slides.

“Plug, plug…”

Taehyung knows exactly where what he looks for is, he’s way too maniac to even misplace something. He does that to ride Jimin’s patience to an end, to break him. More than he is already.

Ten minutes, one hour if you ask Jimin, is what it takes for Taehyung to come back to the bed. Jimin’s stomach hurts from clenching for so long, but he made it. Now, Taehyung just needs to push the plug inside, and then?


Jimin doesn’t need to be asked twice. He let’s go, all shame dissipating, replaced by immense relief.

“Remember your place, doll.”




I love that, sorry for the mistakes I'll maybe correct later (maybe not) if anyone wants to beta my stuff hmu on twitter

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 I hope you enjoyed





























Chapter Text

Good morning, afternoon, evening. Welcome to the fic that will probably finish one day, I just don't know when exactly because I keep adding characters.

I hope you enjoy :D



Namjoon and Jungkook stop by Jungkook’s office to grab some other documents, and Hyemin greets them with an understanding smile when they rush past her. She’s used to that and doesn’t take any personal harm from being ignored. Well, Namjoon has at least the decency to bow his head in her direction, but Jungkook is like wind when he comes and leaves, holding a folder.

“Don’t forget the notebook.” Says Jungkook, hand on the doorknob.

“Bye Hyemin, tell the clients that Jungkook won’t be here for the week-end.”

And it seems that Jungkook suddenly remembers the receptionist isn’t a statue he can turn off whenever he doesn’t have time.

“Donggyu will surely take my place for those days. Bye Min!”

It would be lying if Hyemin said she wasn’t pleased, as she waves at them with a bigger smile. She’ll thank Namjoon later.

As they walk to the car, Namjoon clicks his tongue.

“You need to learn how to be polite, the world won’t be nice with you if you treat others like they don’t exist.”

Jungkook nods, knows when to shut up, especially with Namjoon who has some years more experience about the subject.

“Where are we going?”

“First, we need to go to that Chinhwa.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to know who that kid on the picture is, before we do something else?”

Jungkook nods, takes a phone out of his pocket that isn’t his usual one, and before Namjoon can ask what he does with two phones on him, Jungkook shakes his head.

“I’m not collecting them; this one is untraceable.”

Namjoon hums.

“You have his number?”

“He’s the one working in the hair salon…what’s the name…”

“Sunny Rays or some shit like that? Sun Rise… I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook waves a dismissive hand “he’s the chief there. The best way to contact him is to call the salon.”

That’s what they do, as Namjoon looks away through the window, watching the pedestrians go by and wondering if maybe one of them is a murderer, or went through horrible things.

His thoughts stop as soon as he hears Jungkook talk to someone.

“Hello, is Hoseok here?”

From the other side, Jungkook can hear a ‘Seok, someone for you’ and footsteps come closer.


Namjoon can vaguely make out what Hoseok says on the other side, something along the lines of ‘did you find something?’ and the disappointment when Jungkook says he needs more time.

“Don’t worry yourself too much.”

Namjoon doesn’t hear the rest of the discussion, instead he decides to read a bit further into the notebook.

He’s really the most stunning person I’ve ever seen. Maybe he’s an alien of some sort. What if he’s into guys? That would be so great.

And a few empty lines later.

Who am I fooling, if he loved me, he would look at me.

It’s cute, that school love going on. It could’ve been even nicer if one of the protagonists wasn’t dead right now. Taehyung would’ve been a great adult, if he had had the chance. But if Namjoon had to feel sorry for everything that went wrong, his life would stagnate and be the saddest thing he’d have to go through.

“Hoseok is going to come to my office tomorrow. If you want to meet him.”

Namjoon nods and starts the car. Now, they need to go to the police station.




Jimin wakes up to a pain shooting through his lower back, but otherwise, he’s clean. He doesn’t remember having taken a shower, and he surely doesn’t remember passing out. Did Taehyung do something else to him? The possibility he continued using him is existent but doesn’t worry Jimin more than that. Taehyung would never hurt him. No, he’s been taking care of him since the beginning.

Sometimes Jimin wonders what he’d be up to, if Taehyung hadn’t forced himself in his life.

Jimin pushes himself off the bed he’s lying on. He’s in a room he’s never seen before, and that brings another question. Just how big is this prison of his?

He never asked.

Something about being alone in an unknown room reminds him of his first day here. This time though, he’s not scared.

He hears steps coming his way, and the door open on Taehyung, of course. He would freak out if someone else was to stand in front of him.

“Good morning, doll.”

Jimin smiles, Taehyung is holding a beautiful mint green dress, the ball gown covered in pearls and diamonds of the same color, and a beautiful silk lace used as attach for the back. Jimin only then realizes he’s naked.

“How did you sleep?”

Jimin nods, eyes fixated on the dress, full of stars. Taehyung looks down at the dress.

“Ah, this. I ordered it. Just came.”

Taehyung smiles, a proud smile.

“Would you want to try it?”

It surely wouldn’t look comfortable for anybody sane, but for Jimin this is what he would sleep in. What he sleeps in. He nods, lifting a hand to the fabric to feel it as Taehyung approaches.

“Those are real diamonds, and this,” he plunges a hand in the pocket of his expensive thin coat and takes out a box “is for you.”

Jimin blinks up, a frown forming on his pretty face.

“It’s not a ring, don’t worry.”

Jimin nods, taking the box in both hands.

He looks inside, once he opened it, and is even more confused by what he sees. It looks like a microphone, the size of a pearl. Jimin looks up at Taehyung, a pout on his lips.

“What is it?”

It’s covered in tiny diamonds, or maybe just plastic, but knowing Taehyung it’s probably something uselessly expensive.

“It’s an earpiece. I got a bit more curious, since you seem to forget your place whenever you’re with Hoseok. So, I thought I’d take matter into my own hands.”

Taehyung approaches Jimin, taking the piece and pushing in inside Jimin’s left ear, then, out of nowhere, he takes two earrings and pushes them in Jimin’s ear holes.

“It’s been a long time since you were that pretty.”

Jimin wants to talk back, but something in him tells him that it’s not a good idea, so he keeps his mouth shut. Taehyung knows much better than him, poor doll, who even if he forgot, is only here to be pretty.

“Now, stand up doll, let’s put that dress on.”

Since when is he here? Jimin wants to ask. Did he miss his birthday? It would be a shame, he wanted to bake a cake or something. Will Taehyung do it for him? Oh, maybe he organized a surprise party just for him, and he’d wear his favorite dress?

“Taehyung?” Jimin dares to ask, with a tiny voice, as he lifts a foot up to put in the dress. “Is my birthday soon?”

Taehyung looks up, a smile on his lips.

“Your birthday? Since when do dolls have birthdays? Oh, but let’s say your birthday is when I found you. So…”

Taehyung stays silent for a moment, and Jimin waits, holding his breath.

“It should be in three months.”

Jimin’s heart stops beating. Three months. That means he spent nine months here. And it feels like he just came yesterday.




“Good morning, I hope you had a bit of rest. I heard about the case you’re working on, you shouldn’t overwork yourself too much, Namjoon.”

Namjoon nods as he waits in front of the reception desk for Yoojin to call Chongsu downstairs. He has matters to discuss with the inspector. The man is way older than them, and Namjoon always turned to him, even as he was still a novice, when he didn’t know where to go. Now, he knows, he’s a professional, but having the inspector’s opinion can bring something more to the case.

Jungkook is standing next to him, looking around. He’s not wearing a police uniform anymore, it would go against the law, but he is good-looking in his black suit, as if he came out of a spy movie.

They wait a few more minutes before they hear heavy steps approach. Mr. Moon, or ‘Su, like the receptionist calls him (and she must be the only one who dares), is a corpulent man. He’s not overly overweight, but he’s here, and there’s no way not seeing him. He extends his chubby hand when he stops in front of Namjoon and Jungkook, and with a voice covered by hundreds of cigarettes,

“Good morning Sirs,” and turning his gaze to Jungkook, who’s never been comfortable around the man “it’s been a long time, Jungkook. How have you been?”

Jungkook nods politely.

“Good, thank you Mr. Moon.”

“Ah,” the laugh leaving the man’s lips sounds like a defective motor “don’t be so shy around me and call me Chongsu.”

“Chongsu, can we go to your office? We have some things we’d like to ask about the case we’re working on.”

The inspector turns to Namjoon, nodding his head and turning around.

“What do you need?”

Namjoon walks next to him as Jungkook stays a bit back, looking at the different posters adorning the walls. Most of them are rules, some frames are titles from inspectors or chief, like a pride.

“Jungkook, stop looking around like a kid, it’s not your first time here.”

Jungkook looks up, cheeks blushing in embarrassment.

“Maybe things have changed?”

Is the only excuse he finds.

Chongsu laughs, “if you want to know, there’s a new officer who started a few weeks ago…Chae Howon, he’s a nice guy. Still learning, but a nice guy.”

“You’re talking about the one who tried to flirt with Yoojin?” Namjoon chuckles.

“This one exactly. Took him a week to understand that she wasn’t interested, but it was funny enough that nobody stopped him.”

Chongsu opens a door and enters, and for a split second, Jungkook is afraid he’ll stay stuck. Did they enlarge the door for him?

“Knowing Yoojin, if she was upset, he would’ve known. I have no worry about that.”

“Ah, the kid would’ve come crying to the chief’s office with staples around his mouth to shut him up.”

Namjoon makes a disgusted face.

“You watch too many horror movies.”

Namjoon and Jungkook take place in front of the inspector’s desk, as said one sits himself down in his leather office chair. In that position, the fat of his stomach is even more visible.

“So. Tell me more about that case.”

Namjoon nods, placing an opened folder on the table. Seeing it, Jungkook knows it’s the school’s copy, opened at Taehyung’s page. The real Taehyung, not the imposture.”

“We are working on Kim Taehyung’s case. A kid who died in an accident six years ago. Until now there wasn’t any problem, but one of Jungkook’s clients came to him to say that a certain Kim Taehyung was acting weird.”


Namjoon hums as Jungkook nods, “he said he had reasons to think he had abducted someone.”

Chongsu grabs a pen from the metal jar on his desk and a piece of paper.

“So, you’re saying that the Kim Taehyung who is supposedly dead just came back to life, or someone took his identity?”


“Are you sure it wasn’t just someone who just had the same name?”

Namjoon seems offended, Jungkook just chooses to ignore the accusation.

“We searched for other Taehyungs. We found a five-year-old kid, a thirty years old cashier who didn’t fit the description, and that’s it. The Taehyung we’re talking about doesn’t exist, and” Namjoon takes the notebook out of his pocket. “we have reasons to think that this boy on the picture is the one Taehyung took away. We don’t know how old he is now, but he must be around twenty years old.”

The inspector leans forward, taking a look at the picture.

“Do you have ways to verify this information?”

“Yes,” Namjoon and Jungkook answer in unison. “we wanted to come here first, but we’re about to head to Jungkook’s client. He has seen both suspect and victim.”

“And we have to interrogate Kang Chinhwa.”

“Why so?”

“Because we need to start somewhere, and we can’t go attack that fake Taehyung without having proofs that he’s dangerous. What if he kills his victim because we stepped too close?”

“And maybe we’d discover that Chinhwa is Taehyung’s real name, but we don’t want to judge too fast.” Jungkook adds, and Chongsu nods, understanding.

They shake hands, after a few more words exchanged, and Namjoon and Jungkook head to their car, waving goodbye to the receptionist, who absentmindedly responds with a nod of her head. She is probably on the phone.

“So, now?”

“Now, change of plan. Hoseok. We really need to know if he knows the boy on the picture. We don’t have time to wait until tomorrow.”

Namjoon agrees, and they head home to change before going to the salon.




Hoseok surely wasn’t expecting any visit from Jungkook, he thought they’d take an appointment for tomorrow, and he starts panicking until he realizes that no-one could’ve known who Jungkook was. And it’s not like it was written on his forehead. Even if the aura that floats around them is quite impressive, it doesn’t tell anything.

The problem is, Jimin is here, and as sure as he is a victim in that situation, he tends to rely on Taehyung very much. Too much.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you?”

“Good afternoon,” Namjoon answers, a guy Hoseok has never seen, but trusts already, if Jungkook is working with him. “we’d like to take an appointment. Or well, my friend. His hair has gotten long enough and he’s starting to look like a girl.”

Jungkook huffs, as if an arrow had shot him right in his pride. But he says nothing.

Hoseok goes behind the counter and takes the salon’s agenda, turning the pages to find a period where he isn’t working, or well, where he can leave work without seeming suspect.

He knows they can’t talk about it here. They know he’s eyeing someone through the mirrors. Jungkook leans forward, voice low.

“Who is it?”

Hoseok swallows a sudden lump in his throat.


It doesn’t cost much for Namjoon to take the notebook out as if it was a wallet and show the picture to Hoseok. Because they can’t ask Jimin to turn around so they can compare.

“Yes, it’s him. Way younger but it’s him.” Hoseok confirms.

Namjoon puts the notebook back in his pocket.

“Is Friday alright for you?”

Jungkook looks at his phone and nods.

“It’s in two days. Yes, it’s perfect. Let’s say around 3 or 4 pm, if it’s alright.”

Hoseok nods and writes it down.

“Shim Ryungmin.”

Hoseok is confused for a second but still writes the name down as it’s said.

At that moment, a voice resounds in the room, and they all turn to look at Jimin, who blushes under the sudden attention.

“Hum…there’s none of that oil in the closet.”

“I’ll come in a moment, take the red jar, it’s the same, just another brand.”

Jimin nods and then he’s gone.

“He seems nice,” Jungkook whispers.

Hoseok nods.

“He is, that’s why I want him to be free.”

“He doesn’t seem to lack freedom.” Namjoon notices.

“It’s true but…I think he’s not aware anymore, that his life shouldn’t be like that.”

“Like what?” Jungkook asks.

“You haven’t seen it, and it’s something hard to explain, but the first time I saw him, he was totally different. Now he’s just too perfect, too obedient. Someone changed him.”

Namjoon nods. They can understand where Hoseok is coming from, he’s seen things, but they still need tangible proofs, and words are nothing.

“We’ll work on that.”


Jimin holds his breath and slowly walks to his working place. He’s sure Taehyung caught everything.




They stop in front of a big mansion. The perfect house, too big for anyone to suspect anything, but if someone suspected something, they’d never dare to check. It looks haunted, even in the middle of the day. The walls are a creamy white, the big double door in the center, made of heavy black wood, looks like it’s about to swallow them whole.

Jungkook looks around as they start walking to the door. An oppressing feeling crushing his chest, and he pains to breath, as if this house was holding a secret. But it’s maybe just his own fear, excessive, because of all the things he’s imagined the abductor to look like. Someone eerily intelligent, controlling, maniac.

“We’re just going to interrogate him. Don’t worry.”

“I’m worried he’ll do something to Jimin, if it’s him, just because we suspected him. And you know as well as I do, that Jimin won’t ever accept to be placed under protection.”

Namjoon is sorry to admit to Jungkook’s words. If Hoseok was right, Jimin doesn’t see Taehyung as a danger, but rather as a savior, and taking him out of the hell hole he’s in, will be rather difficult.

“It’s been a long time since I was confronted to a case of Stockholm syndrome.” Namjoon mumbles to himself as they reach the door.

It feels like they’ve walked for ages, when they just walked two minutes from the car.

Up close, the house look’s even more monstrous.

Jungkook lifts a hand up to ring, and they wait.

They seem to wait ages before the doors opens, or well, one of them.


“Kang Chinhwa?”

The man nods, stepping back to let them enter. Namjoon doesn’t sense any fear or anxiousness coming from the man, but he doesn’t rely on that to tell if he is or isn’t innocent.

“We have some questions to ask you.”

Chinhwa nods, as he goes back to the huge living room. God, if Jungkook could just hope having half of what that man has, he would be the happiest person on earth.

“What is it about?”

Talking about Taehyung to the possible identity thieve would be a dumb mistake.

“It’s about Jimin. He had an accident.”

Something tells them that if Chinhwa was Taehyung, an imperceptible change would occur in his facial expression.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. You must’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

The thing is, that change never comes.




Yoongi isn’t expecting any calls, at least, none of that sort.

“Hello, I hope you’re fine too, Namjoon.”

Yoongi hums to whatever Namjoon says and takes a pen from his desk to write down what the officer tells him.

“You want to bring a patient? Who is suffering from Stockholm syndrome and you wish I could do a miracle and put him on the right way?” A dry laugh leaves Yoongi’s mouth.

“And what kind of saint do you think I am?”

Yoongi plays with the pen, rolling his eyes as he listens to his colleague.

“No, Namjoon, I’m not saying that I refuse. I will gladly talk to him, but don’t await anything from me. That patient, if he’s really suffering from that, will not understand why he’s being sent there.”

The click of the pen against the table would annoy anyone who’d be in the room, but thankfully, Yoongi works alone, and the only person who would be in his office, Seokjin, is working too.

“How would you bring him to me?”


Yoongi’s eyes go wide for a second before he takes a grip on himself. Professionalism.

“Yeah, of course. No problem. But if he escapes, I’m not running after him. And there’s likely chances he escapes before even seeing me.”

Hoseok has something to do in that. Yoongi is only half surprised, the man is stubborn, so stubborn it’s annoying sometimes. But now, maybe he wasn’t all that wrong about Jimin and Taehyung. He hasn’t seen them, but Seokjin talked about it.

“Yes, goodbye. Stay out of weird cases, it’d be sad if you died.”

Yoongi laughs, it’s more sincere this time.

“I wouldn’t miss you, who do you think I am.”

A last chuckle and the call ends.

Yoongi stretches in his seat.

“A case of Stockholm syndrome…Interesting.”




“I’m proud of you, doll.”

Jimin is met with a smiling man, as he opens the door, and he’s soon to run into the warm embrace, demanding attention.

“How was your day, other than the little altercation between Hoseok and those two…men?”

“It was boring. My hands are starting to smell like chemicals at all time…even if I wash them.”

The pout in Jimin’s voice is adorable, and Taehyung’s smile only extends as he brushes a hand through the doll’s hair.

“Let’s take a bath.”

It’s not a question, but Jimin nods anyway, and Taehyung doesn’t waste time undressing him. Once Jimin is naked, he walks him to the bathroom, as if he was some sort of kid. Jimin constantly needs to be reminded who he is when he comes back from Hoseok’s salon, and Taehyung, even if he doesn’t show it, hates it.

He needs that man away, and he has heard enough to know that the police are after him. He has seen enough.

Jimin stays on his marble sit as Taehyung fills the bathtub with scorching hot water. People touched his doll, and his doll touched other people, and that doesn’t sit well in his guts.

“What did you do today, doll?”

Maybe Jimin forgot his own name. Something inside Taehyung hopes he did, but he knows that because of that fucking Hoseok, he’ll never be fully unaware of who he is. Hoseok needs to disappear.

“Hum…I washed hair. Hoseok let me hold scissors and I cut a lock!”

Jimin says happily. Taehyung doesn’t stop him from being happy.

“That’s great, doll. What about we bring people here so you can train on them?”

Jimin looks up, pleasingly surprised.

“But how?”

“You’d be surprised, what people are able to accept for a bit of money.”

Taehyung beckons Jimin closer when the tub is full, and Jimin doesn’t even hesitate before putting a foot in the water. He knows it’s boiling, and he’s used to it. He knows how Taehyung is.

“I want to learn how to dye hair too.”

Taehyung hums as he washes the doll’s hair.

“Which color would you dye mine, if you could?”

Jimin glances at Taehyung for a second.


The laugh living Jimin’s lips is so pure, it’s hard to tell he has been brainwashed.

“Green? Well, I guess anything would suit me.”

Jimin smiles, then closes his eyes to let Taehyung wash his hair. It feels good. Even the water burning his skin feels good.

“Tell me, doll, are you happy?”

Jimin doesn’t even hesitate when he nods, and he can’t see the satisfied sick smile on Taehyung’s lips.

“Good. I’m very happy too.”

Something warm expends in Jimin’s heart and he beams.

They spend a few more minutes with Jimin in the bath, and Taehyung pampering him, and then, they head to Taehyung’s bedroom. Jimin has been allowed there a lot more than he ever was before.

Why the sudden change? Jimin would never, ever, want to go back to sleeping on his throne, and he’s been particularly good.

Taehyung knows how to control him.

“What do you want to wear, tonight?”

Jimin follows Taehyung inside the walk-in closet, where all his dresses, a few dozen or more, have been hung. He points at a pale pink dress.

“That one.”

Taehyung takes it from its hanger and places it in Jimin’s arms. It’s heavy, but the doll is good enough that it doesn’t drop it.

“Go wait for me on the bed.”

Jimin nods, walks out of the closet and Taehyung stays behind, opening a drawer and taking something out of it.

He then goes back to his doll and helps it put the dress. It’s nothing to sleep with, but for Jimin it is. It’s become his routine, when not sleeping naked.

“Good night, doll.”

Jimin doesn’t seem bothered by Taehyung constantly calling him a doll. Why would he?

Taehyung lays down next to the doll, bringing it closer to him, even with the dress taking half of the space.

Jimin knows he’s Taehyung’s doll. He lives for that.




“Didn’t you say you would stop trying to ‘save’ Jimin?”

“If I said that, it was just because you wanted to hear it. I’m not giving up on my own guts because some close-minded people told me so.”

Hoseok stares at Seokjin with such anger in his eyes that it makes the latter take a step back.

“I didn’t mean to be a close-minded person. I’m just trying to protect you.” Seokjin sighs.

“Protecting me by letting others fall into a pit because oh God what if my roommate had too much stress upon him?”

Hoseok’s voice is strained.

“It’s not what I meant! Can we just, please, stop fighting just for a bit?”

“You want me to go talk to Yoongi? I know that look. You can’t force me.”

Seokjin shakes his head.

“This time, it’s Yoongi who wants to talk to you. He’s in your room.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“Of course, he is, he forgot what a private sphere was.”

Yoongi hears the door open and Hoseok step inside with the frown on his face.


“Hi, what do you want now?”

Yoongi doesn’t take the cold tone personally. Hoseok still hates him, in a way, and he’s never done anything to change that. Still, he taps at the bed next to him, to bring Hoseok to sit down, like old friends rather than doctor-patient.

“It’s something about your… fears for that Jimin, Seokjin told me about.”

Hoseok isn’t surprised, either he knew already, or he doesn’t care. Or maybe he’s so used to Seokjin telling Yoongi everything that he gave up.

“They want me to take him in for a session. I just don’t know how to make him come to my office, so I thought…maybe if you invited him here-”

“He’ll never go anywhere without Taehyung.”

Yoongi stops talking, eyes narrowed.

“He’s alone in your salon, from what Seokjin told me.”

“Because Taehyung probably knows he’s here. If we ever take him somewhere else, be sure we’ll have Taehyung waiting in front of the door, and I refuse that that freak learns where I live. I don’t have the funds to buy a new house in another country.”

Yoongi lifts defensive hands.

“Alright, not here. But I really need to talk to him…can you arrange a meeting? Anything, just us, in the salon. One hour is enough.”

Hoseok’s eyes go wide.

“One hour?? And how do I send all my employees out of the salon without Jimin going all paranoid that something will happen?”

“Hold him back after work. Do that. Just an hour.”

Hoseok sighs, defeated.

“I can try, but nothing tells me he’ll accept, and I’m not about to restrain him for your own pleasure.”

Yoongi laughs weakly.

“I’m a doctor, not a monster.”

“You are a monster. You read people’s emotions.”

Yoongi only laughs louder.

“As if you didn’t do the same thing.”

“I don’t. Feeling and reading emotions isn’t the same.”

Hoseok looks away.

“Anyway, doctor, how’s it going with Seokjin?”

“Very good, and you? Did you find someone? Seokjin told me you had a crush on one of your employees…Min something?”

Hoseok covers Yoongi’s mouth, face red.


He can see Yoongi smile behind his hand, eyes closing with delight.

“I can’t even tell anything to him without him coming to you. That’s annoying.”

Yoongi takes Hoseok’s hand off his mouth, smile not leaving his lips. Be it mocking or amused, Hoseok doesn’t know.

“Maybe if you told me about it yourself.”

“This has nothing to do with my sessions, if they ever exist.”

Hoseok isn’t upset. Or at least, not too upset about his private life being shared with Yoongi. Yoongi isn’t ‘anyone’, he isn’t a stranger, and as much as Hoseok refuses to admit it, he trusts the older man dearly.

“Are you just afraid of taking a liking to another man?”

Hoseok huffs, a hand dramatically on his chest.

“Why would I, of all people, be afraid of liking men?”

“I’m so sorry for offending you, Sir.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes, falling back on his bed.

“I’m afraid he wouldn’t like me back. That’s it. I’m afraid of talking to him.”

With all the unprofessionalism he’s capable of, Yoongi lays down next to Hoseok, on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“It’s hard for that part, I admit, but you’ll find a way.”

“What a useless doctor you are,” Hoseok laughs before turning his gaze to the other man. “How did you confess to Jin?”

“It was on a rainy day,” Yoongi starts, but Hoseok elbows him in the ribs. “Alright, first he paid your sessions, so he came to my office to ask me to come home and, I don’t know…things happened.”

Hoseok laughs.

“This is the worst movie end ever. Please refund.”

“It wasn’t a movie, it’s my life. I’m sorry if it doesn’t compare to your amazing, thriller filled life.”

“My life isn’t thriller filled,” Hoseok pouts. “And how did you even know about Jimin? I haven’t told anyone, and surely not Seokjin.”

“I have my ways.”

“Mysterious doctor Min.”

Yoongi lifts his head up, a bit surprised.

“You actually remember my last name?”

Hoseok hums at that, eyes closing.

“Tomorrow, I’ll talk to him. And his name is Minjae.”

“Right, Minjae. The cute little hairdresser.”

They talk about random subjects for a few more hours, until the moon is shining through the window, and Yoongi disappears from Hoseok’s room when the latter falls asleep in the middle of his sentence. It’s nice, talking to the man like that, openly, without any medical background. Hoseok is someone anxious, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hold perfectly normal discussions.

Opening the door to Seokjin’s room, Yoongi slides in the darkness. He knows where Seokjin’s bed is, so he climbs in it after getting rid of all his clothes, except his underwear.

“How was it?”

“Amazing, Hoseok is just so good at sucking cock.”

Yoongi laughs when Seokjin hits him blindly in the chest.

“You…I can’t believe you’re a doctor when you say such stupidities.”

“You should know I can’t talk about what my patients tell me.”

“And you should know that half of the things you know about Hoseok are from me,” Seokjin retorts.

Yoongi doesn’t answer, instead, he pulls Seokjin in a soft kiss.




Bringing Jimin to stay after work is easier said than done, and Hoseok understands it quickly enough.

“I need to go home; Taehyung is waiting for me!”

But after a week, for no particular reason, Jimin changes his speech and is all keen to stay after work. Hoseok doesn’t mind the change, it’s helpful, but something inside him tells him that it has something to do with Taehyung. Nobody just changes their opinion depending on the wind’s direction. Not after spending so much energy on refusing.

Hoseok chooses not to mention that, and simply goes on with his plan. He’d asked Jimin in the morning, like all the mornings before, and while the man is working, he calls Yoongi to tell him that he can come over.

It all happens after work, and as much as it’s hidden by the biggest smile on earth, Hoseok can still feel Jimin’s unease, the way he looks around, the way he jumps from foot to foot. But then, he has to leave, leaving both doctor and patient alone in the salon. Like Yoongi said, Jimin would maybe feel more comfortable in a familiar place. The must would’ve been to talk to Jimin in Taehyung’s house, but that would just be jumping in the wolf’s big mouth.

Jimin has never seen Yoongi, so the doctor understands that the man is a bit suspicious, looks at him like he’s an alien from another planet.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, Jimin.”

Jimin doesn’t answer to that, and just stares at Yoongi’s reflection in the mirror behind the man.

“I wanted to talk to you about Taehyung.”

Yoongi catches Jimin’s attention for a split second before he goes back to looking in the distance. At least, he knows Taehyung means something to him, but what?

“Tell me a bit about him.”

To that, Jimin stays silent for a few seconds; all they can hear is their own breathing and the life happening outside. Hoseok is leaned against the door, playing on his phone.

“He’s everything I need.”

Yoongi turns his attention back to Jimin, who’s suddenly looking at him with all the conviction in the world.


Taking a slow breath, Jimin searches for his words.

“He’s…caring. He has never hurt me.”

That would be hard to believe, but Yoongi has to, in a way. He knows how to recognize a victim, and Jimin surely is one, but he has no way of proving it, and police need proofs.

“Could I meet him? He seems really nice.”

Jimin’s eyes light, like one would light if they were told they were cured from a disease.

“I need to ask him, but I think it’s alright.” Jimin smiles so wide it hurts Yoongi’s jaw.

Jimin is way more cooperating than what Yoongi thought he would be, but even without having met Taehyung, he knows the man will be way harder to read. Yoongi has a feel about it.




“So, are we stuck now?”

Namjoon looks around him.

“You mean in the traffic or in the case? Because I’d say yes to both. I called Yoongi, he said he’ll try to talk to Jimin. I don’t know how it went.”

“When did you call him?”

“A few days ago.”

Jungkook hums.

“We could still go to Taehyung’s other friends. They may know things we don’t. And about Jimin, too. Maybe they know things about Jimin that would help us prove he’s being abused, because now it’s just about trust, but if we had material proofs it would all be easier.”

As he says that, Jungkook opens the folder with all the names they wrote, and those already on the list.

“There’s that only girl in the group…or well, in the group as we know it. It would be interesting to hear what she has to say.”

Namjoon acquiesces, and they drive to Sungmi’s house. They need time, lots of time to proceed through the case. It’s one of the hardest Namjoon had to face, and it’s the first time Jungkook has to work in pair with the officer for so long. He wasn’t keen on seeing Chongsu, really not, but those are personal opinion.

With the dense traffic, they arrive at the house at the very end of the afternoon. They just hope Sungmi doesn’t have family, or things to attend to, it would only retard the case and they’re just having enough of pushing things away. Jimin is difficult enough to deal with.

Jungkook is the one to ring the bell this time, and they hear steps going toward the door. A man opens the door, and for a second they think they made a mistake.

“Good evening, what can I do to help you…Sirs?”

The man seems surprised. Well, it’s not everyday that two men come ringing at your door. They’re both wearing police uniforms, because it’s easier like that. Jungkook extends a hand, same lie as always rolling on his tongue like honey. If he wanted to scam people, he would have no trouble.

“You want to talk to Sungmi? Sure, one second.”

The man, whose name is Park Kwangchul, invites them inside before disappearing in the living room. It seems that he climbs a few steps, and if they listen closely, they can hear him knock on a door; probably Sungmi’s room.

“She still leaves with her dad?”

“Her mom is working, maybe.”

With a little shove of his elbow, Jungkook brings Namjoon’s attention on pictures of a woman, pictures that look a lot like those that are used for funerals.

“We can’t…assume too fast.”

Jungkook nods, Namjoon is right, but they’ll need to be careful if the subject ever comes up.

Sungmi is everything a girl would be. She has long brown hair, thin eyebrows and eyes that remind Namjoon of Jungkook when he looks at him. Constantly in awe.


She doesn’t know how to address them and a fond smile tugs at Namjoon’s lips. God, he wishes he has kids one day, but that’s a private matter.

“Call me Namjoon.”

She must be twenty, or even younger. They wonder if she was the youngest of the group.

“I’m Ryungmin, nice to meet you.”

She bows politely, presenting herself as Park Sungmi, the daughter of Park Kwangchul who, they’ll learn it later, is the boss of a big technology-oriented enterprise.

They live humbly, for the amount of money the head of the family must be making.

She takes them to the kitchen where they sit down on stools as she proposes water to them.

It’s visible, that she’s been educated by the bests. She seems to know the important parts of receiving people, and she doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to serving them, making them feel comfortable. Namjoon sees the pride in her father’s eyes, as he comes closer to them.

“She grew up so much, it’s crazy to see what she’s capable of.” He smiles, and Jungkook thinks he’s about to cry, but nothing of that sort happens.

“Would it be indiscreet to ask about your wife?”

Namjoon observed the ring around the man’s finger. Jungkook almost chokes on his drink. It’s not what he’d call being careful around the subject, but well. There they are.

“No, she died from an uncurable disease, ten years ago. Sungmi does have some memories with her, but I’m still glad videos already existed. We watch them together; I don’t want her to forget how strong her mother was.”

This is far more emotional than what Namjoon and Jungkook hoped for, but it’s noticeable that nobody ever asked this question. Either by fear of stepping in a private, difficult zone, or by simple egoism.

“What could you tell us about Kim Taehyung?”

Sungmi looks at Namjoon, slightly surprised. She mustn’t have heard this name in a while.

“He died in an accident.”

Her voice is stern, and she looks down, like she feels guilty for the accident.

“He wasn’t even eighteen, and we always talked about how we’d celebrate his birthday with Dae and Jiwoon, and Chinhwa if he ever wanted to come…but well.”

“What happened after that?”

Sungmi’s gaze turns to Jungkook for a second, before focusing on the wall behind them.

“Hum…I think we were all a bit sad. Daehyun cried a lot, even if he tried to hide it. I mean, he said boys weren’t supposed to cry but…it’s natural. Chinhwa was his usual self, just worse, so I guess the death reached him in a way and…I have no idea about Jiwoon.”

“How come? Wasn’t he in your group of friends?”

“Yes,” she agrees “he was. But he suddenly disappeared after Taehyung’s death, or well, after we learned he wouldn’t survive.”

“So, there was a slim chance he’d survive?”

Sungmi nods.

“From what the doctors told us, he had a severe commotion, and there was a fifty-fifty chance for him to wake up. He just…never did.”

She breathes deep, closing her eyes to keep the tears at bay. Namjoon stands up, bowing slightly, and Jungkook imitates him.

“Alright, thank you for your help. We’re sorry we brought such a difficult subject upon you.”

Sungmi shakes her head.

“It’s alright. He was a nice friend.”

Mr. Park accompanies them to the main door, and they leave after bowing one last time. Jungkook can see tears run down Sungmi’s cheeks, and he feels even more sorry.

“Let’s go, Ryungmin.”

Once in the car, they both stay quiet until the silence becomes too heavy.


“Where did he disappear?”




Big question:

Who is Taehyung?

Will Jimin ever be freed for this man?

Will we have some HoseokxMinjae for next chapter?

Will I write more smut? If yes, who should I write about?

Where the fuck is Jiwoon?

How confused are the people who only read the questions and wonder who the hell those oc are :')


anyway, follow me on twitter and curious cat