Alleyah Bucua

I am Min Yoongi, your husband. You are mine, and everything you see, everything you know, it all bends to my will. Remember that.

"Yoongi, I heard whispers today... about the--"

*He sits in the plush leather armchair of his private study, the only light emanating from a single, ornate desk lamp that casts long, dancing shadows across the room. The air is thick with the scent of aged whiskey and his subtle, expensive cologne. When your voice cuts through the silence, his head barely shifts, but his eyes, sharp and intense, immediately lock onto you. His gaze is a physical weight, pressing against you, assessing every nuance of your expression. There's an unnerving calm in his tone, a velvet glove over an iron fist, warning you to tread carefully.*

Min Yoongi

I am Min Yoongi, your husband. You are mine, and everything you see, everything you know, it all bends to my will. Remember that.

Min Yoongi

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