#thekimlinenet

[bangtanger]

RM ‘Indigo’ Jacket Shoot Sketch

[everythingoes]

100/100 days of Kim Namjoon ♡ [cr. in source]

[illneverrecover]

forever young pt 2 (m)|ot7 bts

➛pairing: zombie!BTS x scientist!reader // side focus Seokjin x reader ➛genre: zombie!AU, apocalypse!AU, technically idolverse!AU, loosely inspired by Warm Bodies. Humor, action, eventual smut ➛word count: 3397 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, descriptions of gore (hopefully not too graphic), mentions of death, cursing, dubious science, poorly timed jokes. will add to warnings as additional chapters come out. ➛summary: Creating the world’s first immortality serum has been your greatest scientific feat - until it was stolen and sold on the black market. Oh, and also it turned whomever injected with it into the living undead. Whoops. ➛notes: I’m kinda embarrassed at how long it took me to get out a part two, but life has been in the way. Between moving, career woes, and flying to L.A. for Permission to Dance, it’s been a crazy few months. I originally planned for this installment to be a bit longer, but with how I have the scenes broken up, it was going to end up being a monster - so I decided to split it. This means either a long third chapter, or mayhaps a 4th chapter (or an epilogue) to wrap up the story. This is edited, but unbeta’d, because I need instant gratification. Thank you to my possum clique for motivating me and basically being the main reason I got this done. You guys are the absolute best. 🖤 Also, bonus points to anyone who picks up on who Dr. Choi and subject A3 are based on. I was a bit in my mysme feels while working on this. 😉   ➛tagging: @erotikkook (from the fic exchange!), @ditttiii​ @thatlongspringnight​  ➛song: Have We Met Before - Sarah Barrios and Eric Nam & Epilogue: Young Forever - BTS

Ch.1

“So what have we learned about the undead?”

Dr. Choi nods excitedly before moving into the center of the conference room, eyes bright. “So much, actually. We were able to get several samples to come back with us for research purposes - some of them even came voluntarily,”

The director's eyebrows furrow as he glares at the young doctor. “What do you mean, ‘voluntarily’? This is an outbreak - they are all mindless, flesh eating-”

“But they aren’t! That’s what I’m here to explain.” Dr. Choi interrupts. 

The director looks irritated at the chastising, but doesn’t speak on it. “Continue, then.”

Now that he knows he has everyone’s focus, Dr. Choi begins to speak. You try to pay attention to what he was saying, but honestly find yourself distracted by his appearance. He was truly selling the ‘mad scientist’ aesthetic; fire engine red hair shining and disheveled, neon yellow and grey striped glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He was young - probably younger than you, though you’ve never confirmed - but his reputation as a researcher had preceded him. He was supposedly a genius. 

By the time you refocus, he’s in the middle of a spiel. “-we’ve found three types so far, though we’re still investigating this more, as we believe there’s likely a trickle down effect.”

With a click, an image pops up on the screen behind the animated scientist.

A surprisingly handsome face of a young man awaits, his skin pale but not mottled; his eyes such a rich brown they almost looked red, which was framed by long, silvery hair. He looked… normal.

“This is subject A3. A3 was directly injected by one of the vaccines that became available on the black market. Not only does he still use his frontal cortex, he also speaks, makes decisions, and is capable of rational thought. He’s the one who actually came to us,” he pauses then, seemingly satisfied with the gasps of the crowd, “Voluntarily. Said he knew something was wrong and wanted to help.”

Dr. Choi lets that sink in, before going to the next slide.

“Here, we have B26. B26 was bitten by someone who was injected, which infected her in turn. She has some motor function and a baseline of rational thinking, but not as much as those in category A. She is easily influenced by others, and seems to be controlled by her hunger more than the previous group as well.”

Your eyebrows tighten, mind racing. He hadn’t mentioned the feeding status of category A. Realistically, you know that they would have to eat to survive as an organism - whether a living or undead one, the basic instinct is hardwired into humans. But since Dr. Choi didn’t mention it, did it mean they didn’t need to eat as much? Or could control it better?

“And finally, here’s the one that the director has been waiting for - bachelor C17.” The projector whirs and a ghastly image floats on the wall. It was completely different from the others, a haunting shell blanking staring on the screen. “This is what we’ve all been picturing since this all went down.”

A zombie. Truly undead, mindless, former human. 

“He’s the worst of what is out there. No rational thought, no communication skills. The current running theory is that this type is formed when someone is bitten by the previous type similar to B26. We can’t know for sure without trials since he can’t speak, but it’s the logical conclusion.” 

Silence stretches out over the room.

The director clears his throat, shuffling papers nervously before shifting his gaze back. “So what… what does this mean?”

A cheshire grin breaks on Dr. Choi’s face, and you can’t help but notice how handsome he is, despite the situation. 

“I was hoping you would ask me that!” he exclaims, pushing up his glasses with a single finger. “It means that we have different types of the undead, depending on how they were infected. Which also in turn means that if we’re going to fix this, it’s not going to be easy. We won’t be able to just create a vaccine or a cure all, since there’s different stages. At this point, we don’t even know if the other stages are even treatable…” 

His brow pinches for a moment, a slip of the assured mask, before he takes a deep breath and seemingly soothes himself. “But! We have plenty of willing volunteers, and a few that are so flesh hungry that they have no idea what's going on. With them, we can figure it out.” Dr. Choi proudly grins, nodding at the other scientists. 

“And, with a few more of you, I think we can do that even faster. We could really use some of you from research, and some geneticists as well. If you’re interested, please let me know.”

You’re not sure what’s said after that, the room breaking out into a cacophony of noise as everyone speaks at once. There’s an underlying current of tension that seems to be rising, and it makes you feel like you're going to crawl out of your skin. This is your fault. Well, kind of your fault. And the least that you can do is put your nervous energy to use and help fix it. 

Standing abruptly, you move to the front of the room, sliding past bodies until you see the fire engine hair of the man you’re looking for. 

“Dr. Choi? I’d like to volunteer for the research team.” 

Her. Always in the back of his mind, even when he’s hungry, even when he’s scared. Her. Her.

You. 

The memories play like a reel in his mind, snippets forming a montage of the most beautiful person Seokjin has ever seen. If he closes his eyes, it’s almost like he can feel the softness of your skin underneath his touch, taste your mouth on his own. 

He needs to find you.

It took some convincing to get the guys to agree to continue with the original plan of going to his brother’s restaurant, but they eventually caved. It was hard to miss the logic of having a safe place to hide out from the prying eyes of the public and regroup. Seokjin knew they needed a plan, but wasn’t sure how to bring it up. 

“We need a plan,” Namjoon sighs, resting his head back against the soft leather of the couch. They were all in various forms of draped in the sitting area of the bar at the back of the restaurant, far away from any window or door that could expose them. 

Seokjoong had been nowhere to be found when they arrived, and Seokjin tried to ignore the pang that rang in his chest at the discovery. He was safe, he had to be. If there was anything the Kim brothers shared other than their questionable sense of humor, it was practicality. His brother had always had a plan B, always a pulse on an active escape route. 

A common trait acquired after years of living with their parents. 

“Can’t we just… go find her? I feel like our memory powers will kick in and then we can just follow them to her.” 

“Memory powers?” Yoongi snorts. “What, so we’re gonna sniff her down like a bloodhound? What is this, Homeward Bound?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, leaning forward to stare at the blond. “No!” He pauses, pulling a plump bottom lip in his mouth. “Well, I mean, I guess technically? But when you say it like that, it sounds stupid.” 

Seokjin hears the faint whisper of “because it is stupid” before Namjoon clears his throat. “Actually, I think there might be something there.” With his knitted brows and his jaw ticks, the classic Namjoon brainstorming face blooms in full effect. “Think about what we know - we know that when we eat the brain of someone, we acquire their memory. But it also seems we pick up something else as well, something deeper.”

He lets it sink in, eyes scanning the room. Namjoon was always good at getting the guys to see where he was coming from, a mixture of logic and empathy solidifying in the perfect delivery, just like a leader should. 

“We pick up their language, their knowledge, their emotions. It’s like we absorb this small piece of them and it becomes a part of us. Based on what we all… experienced back in that alley... it leads me to believe that if we came across or interacted with someone from her life, it might activate some more memories that will show us the way.” 

Nodding, Seokjin claps a hand on his thigh. “It makes sense to me. Well, nothing that’s happened really makes sense, but it’s as good a theory as any that we have at this point.” 

Comfortable silence settles over the group as they contemplate what has been presented. It was logical, in the way  something is logical in the middle of the zombie apocalypse - meaning that mostly, there was no reason not to. 

“I don’t really get it, but I just really need to know that she’s safe,” Jungkook murmurs, meeting Seokjin’s gaze. “I want to protect her. She seems important.” 

“She’s a scientist.” 

All eyes flick to Taehyung, who looks surprised to peer up from picking his nails to find all the spotlight on him. “What? I pay attention. We all had the same flash of memory from this guy we ate. Don’t you remember all the white coats, the beakers, sealed glass rooms with all that equipment… they’re scientists. I think that guy must have worked with her or something.” 

Namjoon blinks. His mouth opens, briefly, before closing. 

“Whoa, Taehyung. Damn!” Hoseok laughs, the sound echoing around the empty restaurant. “You’re a genius.” 

A smug smirk pulls at Taehyung’s lips, his chest swelling with pride. “I’ve been trying to tell you guys this for years-”

“But what kind of scientist? Do you think…” Jungkook swallows, doe eyes wide. “Do you think she could help us?”

Seokjin isn’t sure what he means at first - what kind of help could they possibly need? - but realization sinks in after a moment. 

Help with their condition. 

There’s a part deep in his gut that bristles at the thought, as if he was well into the acceptance phase of the grief process wheel of his new undead life. But that’s preposterous, right? They were artists, idols - kings at the top of the modern world who wanted and asked for nothing. Why wouldn’t he want to go back to that?

Yes, Seokjin thought, shaking his head. Why indeed. 

“There’s only one way to find out,” Yoongi drawls, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Even if she’s not the type of scientist that can help, she might know someone who does. Either way, it gives us another reason to find her.” 

As if they had even needed another reason. 

Seokjin suddenly stands, barely able to hide the bounce in his step. “Well, then let’s get going. Who knows where in the city she’s located, and the sooner we find her the better.”

“Does this mean we’re going with my plan?” Jimin perks up, eyes bright at the possibility of receiving praise. 

All eyes fall to Namjoon, a habit that was long ago formed and wouldn’t be shaken by anything as minor as the living undead taking over. 

He takes a deep breath, eyes closing briefly before he swipes a palm down his face, nodding to himself. “Yes. Why the hell not?”

It was as good of a vote as any. 

“So, what do you have so far?”

You were following an intern as she chased down Dr. Choi, asking questions at the speed of light. You knew he was giving a brief to the volunteers the next morning, but your burning curiosity (and possible guilt) couldn’t stand the thought of waiting. 

“You saw what I have so far. There’s a bit more nuance to each subject level but that’s about it.” Dr. Choi pauses his march to grab at a clipboard on the wall, scanning it before tapping something onto his watch. “We’ve taken samples - blood, sputum, urine, follicle -  but nothing has been processed with them yet. Still testing out batches and possible antidotes.” 

You nod, mentally going through the process you’ve done millions of times. This next phase was an important one, and it was exactly your in. 

“Dr. Choi, I work in the virology department and have been working here for 6 years alongside Dr. Han and Dr. Soo. I volunteered already, but I’d like to ask to be assigned to the task team who’s trying to create a cure. I think my expertise-”

“Whoa, slow down there, Angel. I know who you are and I’ve heard lots about your areas of expertise,” he smiles at you, though you swear you catch his eyes dragging down your form through the glint of his glasses. “You’re in. That’s exactly where I want you.” 

Relief floods your veins, and you shake loose a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thank you.”

The young doctor gives you a wide grin, mischief dancing on his face. You couldn’t help but feel that there was something that Dr. Choi knew, but wasn’t sharing. He gave off a mysterious air about him - like he’s guarding a secret, but he’d tell you if you amused him enough. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team and show you around.”

The afternoon passed quickly once you were shown your new work space - a cozy desk in an identical all white lab to the one where all of this started. It reminded you of Kihyun, and had you wondering where he was. You had been so preoccupied with the outbreak that you had forgotten he hadn’t shown to work that day, and it’s been radio silence since. 

Luckily, your thoughts had been interrupted by the introductions of the rest of the team, several other scientists from the virology floor present, alongside some fresh faces you hadn’t seen before. After hearing the alphabet soup of titles that followed each of their names, though, you were assured that you had a quality team to work with. 

The only problem now - was where to begin.

“So, do we need to go over the rules again? Or are we good?” 

An exasperated sigh tickled the back of Seokjin’s neck, Hoseok so close that Seokjin could almost swear he could taste what he had for lunch. 

“I asked ONE question, and suddenly I’m not good!” he whines, shuffling over a step to stand beside the elder at the bar. 

A chorus of giggles came from the couch occupied by Jungkook and Taehyung, and a familiar feeling bubbled in Seokjin’s heart. It was nice to see a flash of them back to their normal selves - all of them, he notes with a quick sweep of his gaze. Even Yoongi was getting back to his normal sarcastic remark quip speed, the initial effects of the virus almost all but forgotten. 

If it wasn’t for the brain in the teal cooler on the floor between them though, it would’ve felt like a normal day out with his brothers. 

Jimin clasps a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, nodding once before meeting Namjoon’s stare. “We’re good, hyung. We will stay close, stay quiet, and be quick and stay hidden,” he ticks off on his fingers as he speaks, left with a single pinky raised. “Oh, and watch for the signal.” 

Jungkook giggles. “Safety first, safety second, coolness third.”

Namjoon gives a nod of affirmation, scanning each of their faces before continuing. “Exactly. We have to be careful. We’re faring better than some of the others out there, but we’re still not… human. We have to keep a low enough profile to be able to follow clues.” 

“So, don’t be perceived, and don’t get killed, basically.” Taehyung jokes, a weak smile on his face. He doesn’t like showing it, but Seokjin knows just how much of a worrier Taehyung is - how anxious he must be. 

While it was Namjoon’s job to lead all of them to battle, it had always been Seokjin’s unofficial role to help boost morale; to keep them happy even during the darkest of days. He always brushed it off as the rightful duty as the eldest, but the truth of it is that he couldn’t stand to see them in any kind of distress. Because of this, he had learned subtle ways to cheer them up. You know what they say - when you do your best work, they won’t even be sure that you did any work at all.

“We won’t get killed, Taehyung, because we have a list of rules.” Seokjin winks, bumping the shoulder of the younger man to get him to meet his stare. Ignoring the leader’s groan of annoyance, he continues.  “And also, because we’re going to do this together. And we’ve gotten through all the shit life has thrown at us as long as we were together, with a 100% success rate.” 

The boxy grin Taehyung rewards him with is genuine as chuckles break out over the group. Satisfaction builds in Seokjin’s gut, and soon his cheeks are wide with a smile of his own. 

“He’s right,” Namjoon says, ruffling Taehyung’s fluffy mop of curls. “We’ve always gotten through things together. And that’s how we’ll get through this, now.” 

Another pang resounded in Seokjin’s chest, though this time he could name it as it passed through him, recognizing the familiar vice around his heart.

The love for his brothers. The bond they share.

He could feel himself grow sentimental, briefly considering sharing his emotions with the group - before Jungkook popped his head around a corner, calling them with a collective shout of “hyung”.

“I think this also might help us get through it,” he chirps, opening his hand to show a key and electric fob dangling from a ring around his pointer finger. “Literally.” 

Jungkook’s triumphant laughter has them all excited and on their feet, Seokjin grasping the key to take a closer look. “Oh shit - for the town car? Where did you find this?”

Seokjin knew his brother usually drove himself to work, and only utilized the family driver when he was extra busy, planning to meet with family after a shift, or when he was entertaining someone important and wanted to show off. Darting around Jungkook, he headed for the office without awaiting the younger’s reply. 

“Was it in here?”

“Yeah, I found it on the hook by the door and I remember seeing the town car outside, so I figured we could use it.” 

Seokjin quickly takes stock of the room before him, scanning until he sees the familiar family calendar hung up on the wall. Rushing over, he looks for the dates, trying to confirm something that he was already suspecting. “It looks like Seokjoong was going to meet up with our parents later this evening, and was going to send the car to bring them here. Since his car isn’t around, maybe he decided to drive to them when everything went down.” 

It was the logical conclusion. His brother wouldn’t want his family to be in danger in any way, and it would be faster and more secure to go to their country home than to stay in the city. Relief floods Seokjin’s veins, and he leans his head against the wall for a moment to collect himself before turning back to Jungkook.

“Good find,” he praises, following him back into the hall. “It will definitely get us there faster and safer.”

Jungkook gives him a wide grin, clearly satisfied with the praise. As they rejoin the rest of the group, Seokjin holds up the keyring again for them to see. 

“Looks like we’re on our way to meet our dream girl,” he sings, jangling the key obnoxiously while the others groan.

“Don’t forget the whole ‘finding a cure for being a zombie’ thing, too.” Yoongi adds, observing the eldest sharply. There was something going on with Seokjin - something that only he seems to be picking up on - and it was only a matter of time until he got to the bottom of it.

Rolling his eyes, it was Seokjin’s turn to scoff as he marched towards the back door of the restaurant. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Let’s go, I’m driving.” 

[lucid-jjin]

I believe in a thing called fluffy- haired Taehyung supremacy 

[mnygs]

Go Go ☆ Taehyung (171012)

[jjkpls]

Flavours (m)

> genre : smut, angst

> pairing : kim taehyung x reader (f)

> word count : 18k

> warnings/content : good ol' ennemies to lovers (who's excited?); fuckboi!kth; coworkers!au; undesired nudes; mature language; alcohol consumption; threesome mention; oral (on f); frustrating characters; oc is a little bit of a bad-tempered... bish; total unhealthy lack of communication; trash talking; unrequited crush; sort of toxic relationship dynamic (they're just assholes to each other); explicit depiction of sexual activities

> You cannot stand Kim Taehyung. He's a creep, gross, annoying. Having to work along his side every day tastes like Hell but life is strange and you can't explain why you allow him to do to you the things he does.

1 - Greasy 05/23

2 - Sweet 05/30

3 - Exotic 06/06

4 - Bitter 06/13

5 - Creamy 06/20

6 - Rich 06/27

7 - Bittersweet 07/04

8 - Sour 07/11

9 - Salty 07/18 24/07

A/N: Here we go again!!

ABOUT THE SERIES: A new series is starting, starring our Prince Tae, highly inspired by the infamous vid of him flirting with the Instagram model (too lazy to find it back and link it; you must know what I’m talking about). So, a series made of nine drabbles, one will be posted each Sunday morning, 9AM (UTC+2). You’re in for quite the ride, be ready for painful frustration with this enemies to lovers!au :)))

ABOUT TAGGING: This time, because I always get messed up and it consumes so much time to have a new one at each release, this post will be the one and only place to require to be tagged. By asking to be tagged here (explicitely please, say ‘tag me pls’), you’ll be tagged for each and every single part of the series!

MISCELLANEOUS: I’ve just opened a ko-fi page! For now, there’s not much on it, it’s just a place to support me if you want/have the possibility to. I’m planning on holding poles there, for those who’d like to donate, to vote for the projects you’d want me to post first, for different paths to certain stories, and possibly, take commissions. Anyway, if you can and would like to offer me a ko-fi, I’m already telling you I’m infinitely thankful and I’m just leaving the link here.

I hope all of you are doing good, wishing you a beautiful day or night, and I hope you are as excited as I am for this new series! Kisses!

[sensuals]

many thoughts, all of them about this

[namjoonchronicles]

𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕛𝕠𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕖, 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕒𝕟 𝕙𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦, 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦, 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖

[luffles424]

Tips & Teases

☼ Pairing: Seokjin x reader

☼ Genre: fluff, smut, pwp (with some plot), skating carhop!reader, diner cook!Seokjin, coworkers 2 lovers

☼ Count: 13.1K

☼ Warnings: 18+, teasing, dom!Seokjin, brat!reader, some possessiveness, big dick!Seokjin, manhandling, mirror sex (sort of, it’s actually a window, but it’s still a reflection), semi public sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, degradation (lots of use of the word slut), spanking, spitting, assplay, pussy spanking, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, hair pulling, ass worship, ass eating, orgasm denial, oral (f receiving), squirting, choking, unprotected, creampie, aftercare

☼ Summary: Jimin’s annual Halloween costume party presents you the perfect excuse to tease Seokjin, using the party as an excuse to wear flirty costumes to work to try to provoke a response in the man. Are you really prepared for what happens when he snaps?

☼ a/n: This one got a little bit away from me lmao But I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

☼ Written for @btsholidaybingo​​​​ to fill the square costume party

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

You glance up at the exclamation, seeing Seokjin leaning against the counter in the pass through, brows furrowed as he takes in your seated form. You hide your smirk by ducking your head to finish tying your skates. It’s not fully the reaction you were hoping for but you’re hoping that’ll change once you stand up and he sees it fully. You thought long and hard on what you were going to wear. You have backups, but you decided to start easy on him. But you were fully prepared to escalate. 

Skates tied, you push yourself up and give a little spin to fully show off your outfit. And to maybe let the already fairly short skirt flair and rise a little higher as you move. You come to a stop facing Seokjin once more, innocent smile tugging your lips as your toe stop presses into the ground to keep you in place. You smooth down the skirt, though the layers of tulle keep it from laying completely flat.  

Seokjin’s eyes drag over your form and you wait with baited breath for his reaction. This was all part of your plan to tease and fluster him. “Again, what the fuck are you wearing?”

You pout. That’s still not what you were expecting, though you think you can just make out the tips of his ears turning red. You put a hand on your hip. “It’s October.”

His head tilts. “Yeah and Halloween isn’t for another two weeks. It doesn’t explain this getup.”

You scoff. “Halloween is all month, first of all. And Jimin’s costume party is coming up and I couldn’t decide on what to wear so I decided to try them out at work first.” You bat your lashes at him, forcing down a smirk. “Does that mean you don’t like it?”

His mouth opens then snaps closed as his cheeks dusted with pink. “There’s no way that Namjoon approved that,” he deflects. Interesting.

You look down at the costume. It’s a fairly generic ‘sexy’ waitress costume. Red with yellow stripes that matches the overall aesthetic of your little drive in diner. The skirt hits above midthigh, puffed out by tulle, so the skirt bounces a little more with each movement along with a small ruffled apron with a pocket that isn’t actually usable. The buttons stop at the right point to give a more than ample display of cleavage. And you’ve paired the whole thing with a set of thigh high socks, leaving only a tantalizing glimpse of your thighs on display. 

You look back up and quirk an eyebrow, smirking. “Joonie was with me when I bought it.”

A ding sounds and you both turn to look at the wall where the board for the all parking spots sits, a light glowing beside the number 12. You swipe one of the order pads and a pen from the counter and move to the door to outside. You give him a wink before nudging the door open with your hip and skating out to the waiting car. 

Seokjin scowls after you and then pulls out his phone, dialing Namjoon’s number. 

Namjoon picks up after a few rings. “Is someone dying or is the building on fire?”

Seokjin frowns, watching as he watches you laugh as you speak with the people in the car. “What?”

“Is someone dying or is the building on fire?”

“I… well no-”

“Then why are you calling me? Jin, it’s my only day off and I know you’re at Omelas right now, so this is clearly a work related call.” Namjoon sighs. He sounds a little tired and Seokjin suddenly worries that he woke him up even though it’s 4 in the afternoon. The manager works far too much for his own good.

“Did you really tell Y/n she could wear a waitress costume to work?”

There’s a pause and then Namjoon chuckles. “Wow she really wore it? Man, her tips are going to be great today.”

Seokjin’s about to respond when he catches sight of you leaning over to speak to another car, back facing him, and the action causes your skirt to rise further up your thighs. He swallows and jerks his gaze away, glaring at the grill and cursing that it’s slow and he has nothing to keep him busy right now. He needs a distraction to keep from just watching you longer. 

Namjoon continues when Seokjin remains silent. “Yes, I said she could wear it. It’s the season and I’m sure it’ll appeal to customers to see them skating in costume and it’ll boost business. Hm, I should probably make up some rules cause I worry what Jimin will wear,” he finishes, seeming to be speaking more to himself. 

“I think it’s dumb.” Seokjin mutters petulantly. Dumb is definitely not how he’d truly describe it. It’s more frustrating, maddening, distracting. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to focus on work when you’re flitting around looking like that. Maybe he can switch future shifts so he doesn’t have to work the same time as you. 

Namjoon snorts. “Noted. Is that all?”

Seokjin mutters a yes and Namjoon hangs up with a warning to call again only if there’s an emergency. His hand drops back to his side in defeat. Namjoon was the only one who could save him and he apparently is more worried about Jimin’s costume than yours. He stares at the grill, he had really hoped that Namjoon would back him up. He’s not ready for this shift. Maybe he can call Taehyung or Yoongi to come cover and he can fake being sick or something.

The door opens and he looks up, deflating slightly when he sees that it’s just Jungkook, who immediately flashes him a sheepish smile.

“You’re late,” he snaps. He knows he’s not really mad at Jungkook. They’re all guilty of being a little late, but he has nowhere else to channel the feelings simmering just under his skin.

Jungkook grins and tosses his bag into the cubby behind the counter along with his boots before moving back around to sit to put his skates on. “I’m not that late. Besides,” he glances out the glass front doors to where a group of guys have sat at one of the picnic tables under the awning. You stand with a hip cocked, giggling at something one of them has said. “Seems like Y/n’s got everything handled right now.”

“Just get to work before I tell Namjoon you were late again.”

Jungkook stands, shit-eating grin firmly in place as he glances out the window pointedly. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t do that.” And before Seokjin can respond, he skates out the door to see who you want him to take.

Seokjin doesn’t know how he’s going to survive this shift. 

The next time that Seokjin works a shift with you, he encounters Jimin first. A very shirtless Jimin who’s back is to him when he enters the building. 

“Jimin, what the fuck?”

Jimin turns and grins, quickly moving around the counter so Seokjin can see the full extent of his costume. Or more accurately, his lack of clothing. Because the only thing on Jimin right now that counts as clothing is the tight pair of black shorts that barely even really cover his thick thighs. The only other things on him are a pair of suspenders, a green tie, and two black x’s that cover his nipples. 

Seokjin blinks. “What the fuck are you even supposed to be?”

Jimin adjusts the thick black glasses on his face with a grin. “Class president,” he states proudly. 

Seokjin scoffs. “What fucking class president looks like that?”

Jimin pouts. “Well I was class president. So me.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Does Namjoon know you’re wearing this? There’s no way he allowed this.”

 “We compromised.”

Seokjin lifts a brow, looking over Jimin’s “costume” once more. “Where’s the compromise?”

He points proudly to the pasties. “These are. And I have a jacket for when the sun goes down and it gets colder.” He turns and grabs the two drinks he had been working on and moves towards the door. “Isn’t Y/n’s costume idea great?” he adds before exiting the building. He also very much does not like your costume idea. He can already feel his sanity fraying with just the thought of working another shift with you in that little waitress getup. 

“That’s… not a compromise.” Seokjin says weakly as he turns to put his bag away, knowing that even if Jimin did hear it, he wasn’t going to respond. 

However you happen to enter and catch what he said and you giggle. “You don’t want to know about the rest of the compromise, Jinnie.”

He’s about to respond; say that he can certainly imagine what the compromise was because Jimin has never been shy about telling everyone how he managed to talk Namjoon into very not Namjoon situations. His words die in his throat though when he catches sight of you as you begin to get some drinks. Nothing about last time prepared him for this. Because you’re not wearing the waitress costume tonight. Oh no, apparently that would have been too simple. You have a different costume on. 

You have thigh high socks on, though these are thicker than the other ones you had worn. There’s a lot more thigh on display as well thanks to the short, white athletic shorts you’re wearing, paired with a cropped white jersey emblazoned with ‘Tune Squad.’ And finishing off the look is a pair of tan and white bunny ears perched on your head and what he discovers when you turn to grab something and much to his horror, is the matching fluffy tail settled right on top of the swell of your ass. 

When you turn back, he has to quickly jerk his gaze away from staring at your ass longer. There’s a knowing smirk when his eyes finally meet yours, like you knew what putting the tail on would do.

Seokjin clears his throat. “And what are you supposed to be?”

You gasp in mock horror, hands coming up to rest over your heart like he’s physically hurt you. “You can’t be serious!” When he doesn’t say anything else, you shake your head in disappointment. “Space Jam is a classic and you’re a heathen for not recognizing Lola Bunny. Shame on you,” you tut. You gather your drinks on a tray and move towards the door, pausing as your back presses against the glass to cast Seokjin an appraising look. “Suppose I’ll have to look for a Bugs Bunny then, hm?” 

And with a wink, you’re nudging the door open and skating out to a table full of guys and Seokjin bristles at the way some of them blatantly stare at your ass. His mind belatedly catches on your parting words and he wonders what you meant. Was it directed at him? Did you want him to be your Bugs? He doubts that, he can’t recall a moment of you ever expressing interest in him as anything more than a friend. Maybe you were making a joke about how you needed someone else to help your costume be more recognizable. Though Seokjin knew what your costume was when he saw it. He just didn’t know what else to say without saying something incriminating.

A snicker has his head whipping around to see Taehyung standing over the grill, eyes trained on the food in front of him.

“And what do you find so funny?” Seokjin asks, tugging his apron off the hook on the wall to put on. 

“You,” he answers simply, flipping one of the burgers in front of him.

Seokjin makes a face. “I don’t recall making a joke.”

Taehyung looks up at him with a boxy grin. “Oh, no. Your jokes aren’t funny. But the way her ass made you so stupid that you forgot a movie is hilarious. I know for a fact that you’ve seen it at least once because we’ve watched it together.”

Seokjin feels his cheeks heat. Taehyung’s not wrong. He probably would’ve recognized the costume as Lola a lot faster if he hadn’t been almost immediately faced with your ass stretching the fabric and the way the cottontail perched just above it in a way that could only draw you to stare. He scowls, he can’t let Taehyung know he’s right. They all tease him enough as is, this would just be one more thing to add to the pile. He moves over to the younger man and tugs the spatula from his hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to be off work now? Go enjoy your freedom.”

Taehyung only takes a few steps away, perching on the stool they keep behind the counter with a smug look. 

Seokjin sighs. “What?”

He gestures to the food before Seokjin. “That’s my food.”

Seokjin blinks for a moment before groaning. He really played himself here. Now he has no choice but to finish Taehyung’s food.

Seokjin’s positive that he’s prepared for the next time he sees you. He knows to expect something different. And honestly, nothing could be worse than those shorts. Jungkook is there first and Seokjin groans when he sees him. 

“She got to you too?” He whines, looking over the younger man. 

At least his shorts are a more acceptable length than Jimin’s were. And he’s wearing an actual shirt. Really the only thing that signifies that he’s wearing a costume is the pair of bunny ears on his head. Actually, Seokjin’s positive that they’re the ones you were wearing for your Lola Bunny costume. Which confirms that you’re going to be wearing something else. But it’s fine. Seokjin can handle it. 

Jungkook grins and glances out to where a table full of giggling girls sits. “I mean, she had a pretty good idea. The tips have been really good lately.”

“Don’t listen to his grumpy ass, Kookie. You make an adorable bun.” You grin, walking through the door. Seokjin’s eyes trail over your frame immediately, greedy to see what you’re wearing, but all you’ve got on is a thigh length trench coat. “He’s just jealous that no one gets to see his costume.”

Jungkook chuckles as he leaves and it takes Seokjin a moment to realize that he should respond. He frowns. “I’m not wearing a costume.”

Your mouth forms an ‘oh’ of exaggerated surprise, hand coming up to your chest. “You’re not?” 

Your gaze slowly drags over his form and Seokjin suddenly feels a little self conscious that he’s just in sweats and a white shirt. It’s not much, but no one really sees him in here so he just went for comfort today. The way your eyes linger where his apron is tied, accentuating his tiny waist before trailing up to where his biceps stretch his sleeves has the tips of his ears coloring red quickly. He wishes he had longer hair so that you couldn’t see them right now. Then your lips quirk up into a teasing grin.

“Could’ve fooled me. You’ve got the perfect Bob Belcher look going on here, Jinnie.”

Seokjin’s face twists. Bob Belcher? Seriously? That’s how you see him. He scowls, looking over your outfit. “And just what are you supposed to be? A flasher?”

You giggle at his statement, pulling something golden from your bag. A moment later, you’re placing it on your head and he realizes that it’s a short, 4 pointed, gold crown with 4 alternating blue and red gems that sits on a headband so that it stays in place. It looks so familiar but he can’t place why. 

You give him a wry smile. “No, of course not. I had to run to the store so I threw a coat on.”

He rolls his eyes. “Is your costume that-”

He cuts himself off as you slowly slip your jacket off, head tilted as you watch him closely. Now he realizes why the crown looked familiar. Because it’s Princess Peach’s crown. Because apparently you’ve decided to dress like every fantasy he had when he was young once he discovered the Mario games. 

The dress is much shorter than Peach’s is, your’s sits high on your thighs and dips low to show a generous amount of cleavage. You have thigh high white tights one that only accentuate the sliver of thigh that you have on display much the same way your waitress costume did. But this is somehow worse and Seokjin suddenly very much regrets wearing sweatpants today of all days. At least he’s got the apron on.

He turns back to the grill, but the image of you dressed like that will be burned into his brain forever. He might actually die. 

You giggle and he hears the sound of your skates as you move towards the door. “Just have to find a Mario. We’d be so cute together.” And with that you skate out.

Seokjin’s thrilled that it’s finally the day of the party and that it’s finally Halloween. It means he won’t have to deal with you in your costumes anymore. He honestly doesn’t think he can handle anything else after the Peach costume. Or even seeing the Peach costume again. He has no idea what you’ll be wearing tonight and he is torn on which he wants you to wear. 

Yoongi is manning the grill when Seokjin gets there because it’s a Friday so their shifts overlap for the dinner rush before Seokjin will close down for the night. And he saw Hoseok out taking care of a few customers, but he’s unsure if Hoseok was working the earlier shift or if he took Jimin’s shift so the younger man could set up for the party. He hopes it’s the latter, he worries who would come to replace him if he worked the earlier shift. 

He gives him a nod of acknowledgement before focusing again on the grill as Seokjin gets ready for his shift. He had seriously considered skipping the party later since he’s closing and it means he’d get there late. But it’s Jimin’s party and not only would the younger harass him until he came, he also knows it’ll go late into the evening and so his closing shift won’t affect anything. But the late time does mean that he decided to wear his costume to work, well one of them. He has a second one in his car, a stupid idea just in case you happened to wear Peach again. He knows it’s fairly unlikely, but he supposes that the Mario costume sitting on the car seat is at least a little comforting. Maybe an easy way for him to possibly ask you out. Or just embarrass himself. At least it’ll be at a party and he can drink himself silly when he gets rejected. 

But for now, he’s content with his costume. It at least won’t get a snarky comment from you comparing him to Bob Belcher. Because he actually put a little thought into this costume and he’s pretty proud that he managed to pull together such a good Geralt costume. His hair currently being bleach blond also helped give him the idea. The wig for proper accuracy and sword are in his car, they seemed a little impractical to work in, but the rest of the costume was pretty comfortable. The higher waisted pants are different but he thinks they’re pretty flattering and form fitting and the shirt is just billowy enough to give the illusion that he’s a little buffer than he really is. 

The most telling part of the costume is the wolf head medallion hung around his neck. Which he hopes people recognize for what it is and don’t just think he’s wearing some fancy, period style clothes. Plus wearing it now meant that he didn’t have to change either at work while trying to close or show up to the party and change there. And he’s incredibly thankful that Jungkook, nerd that he is, not only had a sword for him to borrow, but actually had a replica specifically of Geralt’s sword. 

Seokjin tugs his apron from the rack, back to the door when he hears it open. He hears Yoongi let out a low whistle. 

“I don’t know who’s attention you’re trying to catch, but consider it caught.” 

Seokjin turns, curious as to who and what Yoongi is talking about and he feels his breath catch in his throat. Because apparently fate is cruel and has decided that you of course would pick up Jimin’s shift and would be the one who closes with him. He licks his lips as his gaze slowly trails over you. 

He doesn’t even know what to take in first. Your black dress is low cut and short, your legs covered in lacy floral tights. But the most distracting part is the glittering body cage that sits over your dress. It cages your breasts in and accentuates them even more than the dress, extended up your chest to form a collar around your throat. Thinner strips cover your shoulders and upper arms, forming a parody of sleeves. The strands curve around your hips, the ends coming together to form a point that just touches the hem of the dress. 

A medallion hangs at your throat, the circular bronze marked with a starburst. You grin at Yoongi as you slip a lace mask on that sits delicately over your eyes. He realizes that you’re dressed as Yennifer. God and not just any outfit, a much skimpier version of the outfit from the orgy scene of all scenes. How is he supposed to survive this shift now?

There’s no way that you knew what he was wearing. This just has to be all a weird coincidence. A very very weird coincidence that has rendered him completely speechless. You glance at him with the ghost of a smile on your lips as you take a seat to swap your ankle boots out for your skates. He gets another brief glance before you’re skating out to join Hoseok outside.

“You’ve got it bad, dude.”

Seokjin jerks at the words, tearing his gaze from your ass to glare at Yoongi. “What are you talking about?”

Yoongi gives him a flat look. “Come on, everyone can see your massive crush on her.” Seokjin shoots a worried glance to where you stand talking to a car and Yoongi gives a chuckle and shake of his head. “Okay, maybe everyone but her. But dude, come on. How long are you going to pine for? Just go for it already.”

“But-”

“There is no but here dude. It wouldn’t make work awkward and it’s very clearly not one-sided. Just ask her.” 

Seokjin huffs. He wants to believe Yoongi, he really does. But he worries that you only flirt with him to see his ears turn red and to tease him. You flirt with the others too and it’s hard to tell if you are just flirty in a friendly way or if you truly want more. And he’d hate to make you uncomfortable at work by making a move on you. He turns and chooses instead to ignore Yoongi for the remainder of their shared shift. It’ll get busy anyway so it’s not like he’ll have to try too hard to avoid any further conversation on the topic of you. Something Seokjin would very much like to keep out of his mind given if he thinks about you for too long, it’s going to go straight to your outfit and he doesn’t really need to pop another boner at work while trying to cook. 

Seokjin gets through almost his entire shift with his sanity intact. There’s 30 minutes until close and there’s only one table here. They seem interested in only getting some drinks, so Seokjin takes the opportunity to slip his apron off and begins cleaning up and getting some of the closing duties out of the way so that he can get out of here sooner and go get very drunk at Jimin’s party and try to pretend that he didn’t nearly see your ass tonight when you bent over in front of him earlier. There was a flash of skin from beneath your skirt and Seokjin had to go spend a few minutes in the freezer. When he came out you looked far too amused.

Seokjin glances out the window, realizing that you haven’t been back inside for a little while and worrying that maybe something happened. But all he sees is you chatting with a table of guys. He’s about to get back to cleaning when one of the guys reaches out to run his fingers down your arm. There’s a coy smile on your face and Seokjin clenches his jaw. He glances at the clock. 5 minutes. 

He debates just kicking them out now. It’s not like Namjoon would fire him for it. He doubts they would even bother complaining beyond making a fuss before they leave. But then your hand comes up to touch his shoulder, just for a moment, and Seokjin’s resolve snaps. He snatches their receipt from the counter where you left it and stalks out of the building. 

You glance up at the sound of the door, smiling a little when you see Seokjin exiting. You and the group of guys startle slightly when he slams his hand onto the table, revealing the bill when he pulls away. 

“We’re closed,” he snarls, grabbing you and directing you back inside. 

You stumble slightly, skates leaving you slightly off balance for the sudden movement but you manage to steady yourself by grabbing Seokjin’s bicep with your free hand and allow him to pull you along inside. He leaves you at the counter as he stomps to the back, muttering something under his breath. You look back outside, seeing the guys exchanging confused looks but they place some money on the table and shuffle off, likely not wanting to see what else Seokjin does when he gets angry. 

You squirm slightly, you’ve never seen him so angry, it’s incredibly hot. Especially with him dressed as Geralt tonight. You wait patiently, watching as the outside lights are shut off and then most of the inside ones as well, casting the kitchen in a faint blue glow from the auxiliary lights that remain on no matter what. 

A moment later Seokjin returns, face set in a harsh look of displeasure. You fight down a grin at pushing him far enough to finally get a reaction. He pauses in front of you, glancing behind you briefly, likely to check that the men have actually left. There’s a soft hum from him that makes your lips twitch up in a small smile and when he catches sight of it, his eyes darken. 

“Something amusing to you, sweetheart?” His cold tone sends a shiver down your spine. 

You blink up at him with faux innocence. “Nothing at all, Jinnie.”

His gaze trails slowly over your face and then he’s reaching and removing the delicate lace mask from your face and tossing it to the counter behind you. 

“I don’t think you’re being honest with me,” he murmurs. He leans forward and your breath catches in your throat, thinking he’s going to kiss you, but he bypasses your mouth, lips brushing your ear as he continues to speak. “I think you did this on purpose and you find it very amusing.”

Your body tingles at his tone, at the way he laces a threat into the seemingly innocuous words. He leans back and you only get a second to admire his smirk before he’s spinning you around and pushing your upper half down against the counter. It takes you a second to get your feet under you with the skates hindering you slightly, but you manage to get yourself stabilized and balanced on your toe stops. 

You plant your hands on the counter to keep stable and glance over your shoulder, only to have your face roughly turned forward once more towards the window. It’s dark out and you know it would be hard to see into the dim windows from the street, but if anyone happens to walk closer, they’d be able to see everything. The thought sends a thrill through you. A hand lands on your ass, cushioned by your dress, but the sudden impact still draws a gasp from your lips. 

“I think,” Jin pauses, fingers trailing lightly across the curve of your ass, “that you have planned all of this with just me in mind, hm?” You don’t know whether he actually wants you to respond or not, but he continues before you can voice anything. “I think someone has been a very bad girl,” the hand on your ass stops and his fingers dig into the flesh harshly. “And that someone needs to be punished,” he finishes with a hiss. 

His hand lands another smack on your ass, a little harder this time, and you feel the slight sting heat your skin. You feel your panties dampen and you squirm as well as you can given the way you have to hold your feet still lest you slip. His hands grope at your cheeks before they slide down enough for him to hook his thumbs under the fabric and he tugs the hem of your dress up and over your ass. 

The hands pause then tighten around the fabric of your dress and you hear him swear under his breath at the sight of your ass clad in black lacy panties, ones that closely resemble your mask, and framed by the lace garter straps of your tights. 

“Fuck… You really did plan this all out…” His hand leaves you again before coming down with a resounding smack, no longer padded by your dress and your thin panties do little to cushion the blow. A moan slips from your lips and Seokjin lets out a dark chuckle. “Oh, are you enjoying your punishment? Well, we’ll just have to fix that, hm?”

He spanks you again, harder this time and you whimper. He hums in approval, hand smoothing over the smarting skin for a moment before he spanks the other cheek just as hard. Your toes curl in your skates at the pleasure-pain that shoots through you. 

Seokjin tsks. “Hm, this just won’t do.” He mutters, seemingly more to himself because you have no idea what he could be thinking until his hand grabs the back of your panties, gathering a fistful of the fabric. It elastic pulls tight across your hips, digging into the skin to the point of discomfort. You whine, trying to push your hips up to relieve the sting but Seokjin just moves with, keeping his grip tight. Then he’s pulling harder, the elastic digging painfully into your skin followed by the sound of seams ripping. A final tug and the fabric tears completely, leaving your ass and pussy bear to Seokjin’s gaze. 

A shudder ripples through you at the display. You can’t believe he just ripped your panties off. You can’t believe how much the action turns you on too. 

A pleased noise rumbles in his chest as the scrap of lace is slipped into his pocket. “That’s much better.”

His hands are back on your ass, no barrier to keep you from feeling the warmth from his palms and the slightly roughened fingertips as they skim across your skin. You push into the touch, greedy for more of the soothing strokes. He chuckles, fingers slipping beneath the garter straps. He tugs them away from your skin before releasing them to let them snap against your skin. 

“Seokjin-” you start, only to be quickly cut off by a sharp smack. 

“Bad girls don’t get to speak unless spoken too, slut.”

You swallow, pussy clenching at his tone. Of all the things you imagined, you never quite imagined something like this. His hand smooths across your skin for a moment before delivering another spank. 

“How many more do you think you deserve, slut?” he muses, hand remaining where it landed with his last smack. 

“I-”

Another smack. “That was rhetorical. I don’t actually take the opinions of sluts.” His hand rubs at your warmed skin for a moment in thought. “I think 20 sounds fair. For all your little stunts with those costumes. For flirting with other guys where I can see. For teasing.” He pauses for a moment and when he speaks again, the harsh edge is gone. “Green means continue, yellow for slow down, and red I stop. Okay?”

It takes you a second to realize what he’s said and then you’re quickly nodding, excitement mounting at what could possibly be to come.

“I need words, princess,” he murmurs, voice softer than it has been since he brought you inside and it makes you melt a little. 

“Yes, I understand.”

“That’s the first time you’ve been good all night, sweetheart.” You can hear the smirk in his voice and it makes you clench at the mean implications that come with such a simple statement. “But now let’s see if you can keep your good girl streak going while you get punished.” Both hands leave you and you want to turn around and look at him, see what he’s doing, but you feel it will only prompt further punishment. “I want you to count. And if you miss one, then we start all over again, got it?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes speaking, trying your best to keep from squirming. “Yes, sir.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl now,” he coos.

And then his hand is coming down on your ass, softer than his previous smacks and the gentleness makes you gasp. He pauses and waits and you belatedly let a 'one' slip from your lips. He hums in approval and delivers a smack to the other cheek, still just as soft and you murmur a quiet 'two.'

You squirm. You'd expected more harsh hits and the contrast has you aching for him to go a little rougher with you. He smacks again and again. Every slap of his palm against you only adds to the growing pleasurable sting that radiates across the whole surface of your ass.

He stops when he gets to ten, hands rubbing over the warm flesh. "Color?"

"Green, so green," you whine, pushing your ass back into his hands.

He chuckles. "You're so eager for your punishment that I'm starting to think that it might not be a very good punishment." His hand comes down, much harder than any previous spank and you cry out. "Ah, there we go."

Seokjin sounds so indifferent when he speaks, like he's not even bothered by your bare ass and the noises that slip from you with every connection. You wish you could see his face, see if there is any reaction he has. You want to see the indifference as he’s faced with your bare, dripping pussy and spank warmed ass. The next four spanks are just as harsh and tears gather, threatening to fall. It's so pleasurably painful that you can feel yourself dripping down your thighs. He gives you another small reprieve, hands ghosting along your smarting skin as you pant against the counter.

"Hm, there we go, that’s much better. Color?"

You squeeze your eyes closed, taking a moment to try to gather your foggy thoughts. You feel a few tears drip down your cheeks. "G-green."

His fingers dig into your ass then and you whine as you try to squirm away from the sudden flare of pain. Seokjin just chuckles again and digs his fingers in more. He pulls your cheeks apart and you gasp at being suddenly far more exposed. You clench at the burst of cool air across your asshole and pussy, and Seokjin just holds you like that for a long taunting moment. And then he surprises you further by spitting, the glob of spit hitting just above your asshole and beginning to slide down your crack.

You shudder, a moan slipping from your lips as Seokjin halts the spit from sliding too far by pressing his thumb to your hole. You feel yourself go boneless at the pressure. He hums in delight at the way you relax at only a little prodding.

"Oh? Do you like something in your ass too? My, what a naughty girl," he teases, mocking edge making you whine and press further against his thumb.

His thumb circles, pressing lightly against the tight ring of muscle, slowly spreading his saliva around. He plays with your hole, massaging it for a few moments before he's pulling away. He spanks you again and you tense up at the sudden flip from soft rubbing back to the harsh slaps.

"Didn't think I forgot about the rest of your punishment, did you?"

You quickly shake your head. You actually had forgotten that he said twenty and that you still have five left. But you can't let him know how distracted you had been by him playing with your ass. That you forgot you were being punished. That didn’t seem like it would go over well with him. Tears gather in your eyes as his hand lands again, breath punched from you as the pain builds with each swat of his hand.

Your throat feels rough when you finally croak out, 'twenty.'

His hands completely leave you and you tremble against the counter, struggling to keep yourself upright with your legs nearly boneless. You feel warm and floaty all over. 

"Fuck, you look so good like that." You preen at the praise but he’s quick to laugh. And the mocking, mean edge of it has you whining. "You're absolutely dripping. Did you even learn anything from your punishment? Or did you just enjoy it?"

You jolt when his fingers brush against your tender ass before they trail down to your pussy, running the length of your slit and gathering some of your wetness on his fingertips. His fingers leave you once more and a second later you hear him suck his fingers clean.

He groans. "Fuck, I wasn't planning on doing this as part of your punishment but you taste far too good to not give myself a little treat. It is Halloween after all." You can hear the growing smirk when he continues. "Oh, I have a much better idea now anyway."

His fingers trace your pussy lips and you shift, mindlessly trying to get them where you want them. They pull away and Seokjin delivers a quick smack to your pussy, jolting your body at the sudden burst of pain across your sensitive cunt and forcing a surprised yelp from your lips.

"Behave."

You pout, though you assume he can't see it. That is until you glance up at the storefront and see your reflections in the window and the predatory way that Seokjin stares at you. His grin is feral when you make eye contact, like he's been waiting for you to finally look up and realize that he can see your face as well. He keeps staring at you as his fingers slip through your folds again before he lets one slide inside you.

You moan at the intrusion, but it's not enough. You want more already, body warmed from the teasing and spanking already. He’s barely touched your pussy and you’re already so desperate for him. You clench around his finger, hips pushing back to try to get him deeper. He removes his hand again to land another smack to your pussy, dangerously close to your clit. You moan.

"Fuck, you're so dirty. You like getting your slutty pussy spanked just as much as your little ass?"

You nod, desperate to get more of something, anything he's willing to give you. Simply hoping that by agreeing will get you something. Seokjin spanks your pussy again, this time directly over your clit and you cry out, legs nearly giving out beneath you as the pleasure-pain sensation alights your nerves. His finger circles your entrance slowly before slipping inside once again.

"Seokjin please..."

He drags his finger out slowly before thrusting it back in just as slowly, letting you feel every inch of the digit. "What is it? Please what? If you're going to beg, you're going to beg like a proper slut and use. Your. Words." He punctuates the last three words a harsh thrust of his finger after each one, leaving it buried once he's done speaking.

"Please... Wan-" Your voice breaks as his finger presses searchingly against your walls, finding your g-spot quickly and rubbing against the bundle. The action robs you of all thought, losing track of what you had been saying.

"Yes?" He questions mockingly, like he's not distracting you and making it hard for you to form a coherent thought. "Please what?"

You groan, head dropping forward to press your forehead against the cool countertop. The slight chill that seeps through your sweaty skin grounds you a bit. Enough to string together some words. "Want... Wanna cum, please let me cum..."

Seokjin presses more firmly against your spot and your whole body trembles at the wave of pleasure that washes through you, pushing you closer to orgasm.

"Oh? Do you think you deserve that?"

You nod quickly, squeaking when Seokjin removes his finger to slap your pussy again, the only reminder you get to speak. "Yes, yes... Was good and counted the whole time."

He hums thoughtfully. "I suppose you did. So you want to cum, slut?"

You squirm as his fingers tease alone your folds. It’s maddeningly light, nowhere near enough to push you over the edge. "Yes, please, wanna cum, Seokjin..."

His answering hum should send up red flags but he slips two fingers into your pussy, rubbing immediately across your g-spot with each thrust of his hand and you sink immediately into the pleasure it sends through you. You writhe and his free hand comes up to press against your back, pinning you more securely to the counter. It just makes you writhe more, push the boundaries and feel him press you just a little harder into the unmoving counter. 

His thumbs slips forward on the next thrust to brush against your clit. Your belly tightens with every thrust and stroke of his fingers, orgasm rapidly approaching.

“You’re tightening around me so much. Is my little slut close?”

Your nod jerkily, hips twitching as you rock against his fingers. “S-so close…”

Seokjin stops with one last harsh thrust, switching instead to rubbing incessantly at your g-spot while his thumb circles your clit. “Then be a good fucking slut and cum,” he growls. 

He grabs your hair, tugging your head up so that you're forced to stare at his reflection once more. The look on his face makes you shudder and your pussy clenches around his fingers. Your mouth drops open at the feral look in his eyes and the way he seems wholly consumed by watching your every twitch and reaction. One more twist of his fingers has you crying out his name, toes curling in your skates as he pushes you over the edge. His hand releases your hair, a look of warning keeps you from letting your head drop, and his hand comes down in another spank against your ass and you jolt at the added sensation as your orgasm floods your body.

His fingers work you through your orgasm, slowing only marginally as you shake beneath him. You whine when overstimulation starts to take over but you make no moves to stop his movements. The extra sensitivity only adds to the pleasure that still licks away at your veins.

"Wow, too much and you're not even gonna stop me? Fuck, you really are a dirty, needy little slut."

You whine again, pushing your hips back onto his fingers, drawing an amused huff from him. He thumbs your clit roughly, causing your knees to nearly give out, before he's removing his fingers entirely and you pout at the sudden empty feeling you're left with. His hand slips back into your hair, tightening and pulling your head further back so your chest lifts slightly from the counter and you gasp as your attention is pulled back to his reflection. He smirks at you for a moment and then he's releasing you once more. You collapse against the counter, struggling slightly to keep your footing. 

You're suddenly very much regretting the fact that you have to wear skates at work because it's proving to be very dangerous. You wish you could stop and take them off, but you’re certain that Seokjin wants them on for the fact that it keeps you nearly immboile against the counter. You can’t deny that for the struggle to remain upright aside, being forced to stay like this because of your footwear is just another layer to the arousal that has yet to leave you. 

Seokjin's body blankets your's for a moment as he leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll give you exactly what you need."

You have no time to question him because he's straightening once more and then his reflection disappears entirely as he drops to his knees behind you. Your throat feels dry as you wait for him to touch you again but the seconds stretch and he does nothing. You squirm, imagining what he must be seeing from his new position behind you, your pussy spread and dripping, hole twitching with the last vestiges of your orgasm. The way your thighs quiver as you force yourself to remain upright.

Embarrassment heats you at being stared at but the moment your legs start to close to attempt to hide yourself, Seokjin's hands grip your thighs, keeping you spread for his gaze to consume. He hums in appreciation, thumbs brushing your folds as he pulls your lips apart to get a better look at your dripping cunt. His breath ghosts across the sodden skin and you think that he's going to finally put his mouth on you but he surprises you when he lips brush gently against your ass.

"S-seokjin?"

He ignores you, peppering kisses across both cheeks, tongue slipping out occasionally to lave across areas made more sensitive by his spanking. He releases your pussy, hands sliding further up to cup your ass, massaging the flesh while his lips move across. It's nothing short of worship and you find yourself quickly getting lost in the attention.

By all means, it shouldn't be as hot as it is. He's barely even doing anything. Just kneading the flesh softly as his lips and tongue ghost across your skin. But every touch sends a spark of electricity up your spine. You wish you could see him, how he must look on his knees, the look on his face. Whether his brow is pinched in concentration like it does when he’s working or if it's relaxed as he takes his time with you.

The first pass of his lips over your asshole draws a soft sigh from you and you can feel the smile that tugs at his lips with his next kiss to your cheeks. He takes his time, only putting the lightest of touches to your hole as he showers attention across your ass. Your mind feels foggy, equal parts on edge for his next move and lulled into complacency by his gentle movements. You trust him to give you what you need, even if you don’t know what it is yet. 

His tongue darts out, circling the tightened ring of muscle with more pressure than he's used before and it causes your entire body to shake. He drifts away again and a whimper slips from your lips at the loss. He moves back to your hole quicker this time, each pass and circle of his tongue coming closer together as he goes.

His fingers dig into your ass, drawing a hiss from you at the flare of pain, and he pulls your cheeks apart. He stops there for a moment and you feel your hole clench at the focused attention.

Seokjin chuckles. "Needy little slut," he coos and then he spits directly onto your hole again.

You moan, feeling as it slowly slides down your ass until it meets your pussy and gets lost in the mess of your slick. He blows cool air where he spat and goosebumps break out across your skin. He blows again and then his mouth is closing over your hole, the sudden warmth has you crying out. Seokjin just hums, tongue tracing your hole.

You shift and Seokjin tightens his grip on your ass, keeping you still and you clench at the casual display of power. He keeps the pressure of his tongue light, enough for you to feel it but keeping you aching for more. And god do you ache for more, his teasing keeps the fire in your belly at just a simmer and you want to be consumed. Your previous orgasm is proving to be nowhere near enough as your clit throbs with need. Seokjin continues his slow pace despite your weak attempts to get him to do something.

He pulls away slightly, breath ghosting over you as he speaks. "If you need something slut, you know how to ask."

And then he dives back in, tongue continuing it's tortuously slow path around your hole. You open your mouth to speak, but Seokjin's tongue dips just inside your hole and you groan at the sudden change. He alternates between slow sweeps of his tongue around your rim and wiggling his tongue just a little deeper into you. The stretch isn't enough to hurt, not with how relaxed his previous attention has left you, and you find yourself wishing that there was just the slightest bit more stretch.

Seokjin's words come back to you and you swallow as you try to articulate your needs to him. "S-seokjin... Need more, please..."

He hums but makes no move to do anything about your whining. He's methodical and it's almost worse than the spanking in how torturous it is.

"Please... Fuck, Seokjin, please, please, please..."

Your begging seems to be what he was waiting for because one of his hands slides from your ass to trace along your slit. You moan at the contact, not expecting him to go for your pussy but you let out a happy noise as a pleasurable shiver runs through you. His fingers find your clit and he runs his fingers around it for a brief second before he’s pinching the sensitive bud. 

You cry out, thighs trying to close instinctively, but Seokjin’s body prevents you from moving them closer than an inch. You feel his smirk against your ass as he pinches again. You whimper, the pain sending sparks of pleasure through your body. He switches to circling your clit, soothing the painful throb he created and it lulls you into a false sense of security for when he thrusts his tongue as deep as he can into your ass. 

You choke on a moan as he thrusts his tongue in again, pairing it with another, slightly more gentle, pinch to your clit. You press your face to the counter, struggling to catch your breath amongst the assault of sensations that Seokjin lavishes upon you. But your attempts are nearly useless as he constantly changes what he’s doing, giving you no time to get used to anything and managing to surprise you with every single twist of his fingers and every thrust and curl of his tongue. 

While you struggle to keep yourself upright, you can feel your orgasm steadily building from the constant attention of his mouth and the abuse to your clit. It’s only a matter of time before you cum again. But you know you can’t, not without his okay, although the thoughts that flit through your mind of possible punishments for cumming without permission are incredibly enticing. That can wait for another day. 

“G-gonna… Gonna cum, can I cum? Please, Seokjin… p-please let me cum…” you babble, feeling that knot inside you continuing to tighten and you can only try to stop it for so long. 

He pulls away, teeth nipping at the underside of your ass while his fingers continue to play with your clit. His mouth drifts a little lower and his teeth dig into the meat of your thigh. 

“Please!” you shudder, the added pain pushing you much faster towards your end.

His tongue traces soothingly over where he just bit, but he remains maddeningly silent. You blink away tears, though you’re not sure if they’re from the pain, frustration, or pleasure. 

“Please…” you whimper. 

He shifts to the other cheek, biting down again and you’re so close to cumming now. His tongue soothes the spot once more and you feel your body tensing with the first inklings of orgasm.  

But just as you reach the edge, nearly toppling over into the pleasure, Seokjin is pulling his hands and mouth away from your body, stopping your orgasm in its tracks. 

You let out a sob, a pitiful, whiny ‘no’ slipping from your lips as a few tears slide down your cheeks as your orgasm slowly slips through your fingers. 

“I don’t recall saying you could cum.” His hand comes down on your ass, right on top of where he bit. 

“I a-asked… Please, I was good.”

“You asked, but I didn’t say yes, slut.” His hand swats at your pussy next and you nearly cum from the action with how on edge you are. 

Seokjin seems to notice if his dark snicker is anything to go by. “Oh? You liked that? Seems you liked it a lot, you made such a mess of my fingers.” He slaps your pussy again and it jolts you closer to orgasm again. “Think you could cum just from me spanking your slutty little pussy? Fuck, I want to try. Do you want that, dirty girl?”

You nod without thinking. You’d do just about anything if it means you get to cum. And the sting only makes the pleasure feel all the better. “Please…”

You hear him shuffle for a moment, the sound of fabric rustling, before he’s nipping at your ass again, leaving teasing stings until his tongue can swirl around your asshole once more. His hand slaps your pussy the same time that his tongue slips back into your tight hole. You gasp and he starts alternating thrusts of his tongue with smacks to your clit.

Your body feels wound tight, every sensation that Seokjin showers on you sending you so much closer to the edge. It feels like you and Seokjin have been doing this for years with how well he seems to be able to read your body. You cry out as Seokjin pinches your clit once more, thighs quivering with the effort it takes to keep you standing.

Seokjin's tongue slips from your hole, but he remains close, lips brushing the sensitive furl as he speaks. "Come on, slut. We both know you can cum from this. Be good and let go for me."

His tongue circles your hole slowly and then it's slipping back in and he picks up a fast pace of fucking you with his tongue, interspersed with slaps and pinches to your clit, seemingly using no method and keeping you on your toes in guessing what will come next. Your high crests from the mixture of pleasure and pain and you cum with a sob, pussy clenching around nothing. Seokjin's fingers press to your clit as the first ripples of your orgasm rush through you and he skillfully draws your orgasm out for as long as possible. Your body feels electrified, pushed into overstimulation but your breath has been completely robbed from you with how good everything feels too, at the way Seokjin so easily manipulates your body to his every whim.

Slowly, he pulls his mouth and fingers from you, sitting back on his heels. You pant against the counter, hot air blowing back into your sweaty face but you're too exhausted to care. You kind of just want to slide off the counter and lay down on the floor, even though it's the kitchen floor and is probably gross. Seokjin pats your ass and it somehow feels condescending and you feel your pussy give a weak twitch.

"Enjoying yourself, slut?" All you can muster is a pitiful whine, which draws a snicker from him. "I certainly hope you are, because we're far from over."

You whine again. You honestly don't know if you could take more. Your body has never been so worked over without actually being fucked too. You don't even know what else he could do short of fucking you finally. Which had been the goal of this whole game to begin with, but he's far surpassed your expectations. Maybe you should push his buttons more often if it results in being so utterly ruined. You definitely know that no one else will ever be able to make you feel as good as he has. Seokjin's hands rub soothingly at your thighs and the action is so grounding that you feel a little dizzy.

"Color, sweetheart?" His voice is soft and gentle, so different from the mean tone that's been coloring it until now.

It takes you a moment to be able to speak, but you manage to get out a raspy 'green.'

"Need any water or a break?"

You think about it for a moment. You could take a break. Maybe take your skates off. But you really don't want to either. There's something about not being able to move that makes it even better, makes you feel powerless even though Seokjin has plainly handed you all the power here. You just want more. 

You shake your head. "I'm good."

His hands massage at your thighs for a few more moments before his fingers dig harshly into the newly relaxed muscle. You gasp and he gives a chuckle. "What a good little slut you're being now."

"Yes... 'm good."

Seokjin chuckles darkly. "That remains to be seen. You haven't even gotten my cock yet and you can barely even speak properly anymore. Not so cocky now, huh?"

He gives your ass a quick swat, it's far more teasing than meant to cause you any pain. His hands slide up your thighs until they just meet your ass and then his thumbs are pulling your soaking folds apart with a groan. Mirroring his earlier actions, he blows cool air across your pussy and you shudder at the way it feels against your heated cunt. His tongue lightly traces your folds and he lets out a contented noise like he’s tasting the most exquisite dish he’s ever eaten. 

Then he’s licking a wide stripe up your slit and you cry out, pussy so sensitive after two orgasms already. Seokjin eats you out like a starving man, tongue working over every inch of your pussy, mapping every spot that makes you twitch and moan. You writhe, or at least you try your best with Seokjin’s hands holding your ass and keeping your lower half mostly immobile. 

Seokjin pulls back with a smack of his lips. “For such a little devil, you certainly taste like heaven.” He snickers before diving back in. 

His plump lips wrap around your clit, tongue flicking lightly at the nub before he sucks. Fire simmers in your veins and you’re surprised at how quickly your orgasm builds again when he’s barely done anything just yet. He suckles lightly, pleasure surging through you. Releasing your clit with a pop, his tongue drags agonizingly slowly up to circle your entrance. He’s methodical, tracing around your hole with just the right amount of pressure before dipping back down to mouth at your clit and then back again. 

You feel yourself dripping, Seokjin noisily lapping up all that you have to give him. Seokjin’s fingers massage up to your ass, digging in and sending a spark of pleasure through you from the sting his grip brings. A hand abandons your ass, finger joining his mouth on your cunt. They work in tandem, fingers toying with your clit while he licks into your pussy. Then they switch, two fingers slipping deep inside you as his lips wrap around you clit once more. 

Time slips away from you, your mind hazy and body on edge as Seokjin plays with your pussy to his heart’s content. His tongue presses at your hole with a little more force and then his teeth graze the sensitive skin and you moan. You feel his smile when he presses his lips against you next and then his tongue is sliding into you. You moan as his fingers pinch at your clit at the same time. 

Heat pools in your belly as he starts fucking his tongue into you and you babble as you feel your orgasm rising as his fingers circle your clit, begging to cum again. He gives you a gentle pat on the ass with his free hand which you assume is meant to be his form of permission since he seems to not want to remove his mouth from your cunt. His fingers move faster and you teeter on the edge. You’re so close. So close that it’s driving you delirious with pleasure. But you just can’t quite get there, missing something that you can’t even fathom let alone ask for. 

Seokjin, ever perspective, seems to know exactly what you need as he slips a finger in with his tongue, pressing down on your g-spot and making you cry out. The insistent pressure combined with the fingers on your clit and tongue still thrusting into sends you over the edge. Bliss floods your body and you feel yourself gush around Seokjin’s tongue and fingers. He drinks up what he can before he’s pulling his mouth away with a curse. 

“Fuck, what a messy fucking slut. You made such a mess squirting, you little whore. I just cleaned these floors. I should make you lick them clean.” You clench around his fingers at his words and he lets out a dark chuckle. “Fuck you like that? Of course you would, you wouldn’t be my dirty little slut otherwise.”

His fingers continue their ministrations and you whine that it’s too much. Seokjin pays you no mind, slipping another finger into you. 

“Come on, slut. I know you can cum again.”

You shake your head. “C-can’t… not… No more…” You squirm, trying your best to get away from the relentless pressure against your clit and g-spot. 

His fingers slow for a moment. “Color?”

You swallow. It hurts, but not necessarily in a bad way. It doesn’t feel like it’d be too much to go on. You’ve never been pushed so far and there’s a thrill that runs through you when you think about discovering what exactly your body can take, even more excited that Seokjin is the one to test the bounds and that he makes sure to check in, to remind you that the safe words are there if it’s too much. You trust him to listen if you need to slow down. But you don’t want to, not right now.

You can feel your wetness literally dripping down your thighs and seeping into your tights makes you feel warm all over, overcome with a need to see how soaked they could get. “G-green, please…”

Seokjin hums, fingers picking their pace back up. “There’s my good little slut. Come on, cum for me like a good little whore.”

His mouth latches onto you again and you shudder, body still worked up from your squirting orgasm that it takes so little effort for Seokjin to push you over the edge again. Your mouth drops open on a soundless scream, pussy convulsing as you gush around his fingers, wetness dripping down his hand and to the floor. You whimper and Seokjin carefully slips his fingers from you. He laps gently at your folds, just enough to send tingles of pleasure up your spin.

He pulls away with a groan. “I could eat you out all night.”

You’re torn between imagining the idea and fearing for your poor pussy if he were to actually do that. He stands and you lift your head enough to look at his reflection when it comes back into view. Your breath catches in your throat when your gaze is met with his bare chest. You have no idea when he had stripped his shirt off and you mourn the fact that you didn’t get to see and appreciate the sight more. He shifts slightly and his chin and chest glistens and you feel your body heat with embarrassment when you realize that you were the cause of that. He meets your gaze and winks.

“Think you’re ready for my cock, slut?”

You whine. You honestly don’t know how much more you can handle, but at the same time, you absolutely have to have him inside you. “Please, Seokjin, please… want it.”

His hands give your ass a quick squeeze before they’re leaving you and you can see him focusing on his pants. You curse your current position and the fact that it keeps you from being able to see his cock in all its glory. You know it’s got to be beautiful. It’d be criminal if it wasn’t. 

He smacks your ass with his cock, leaving a smear of precum across the skin. God, how long has he been hard for? How did he hold out for this long? You squirm and he chuckles. 

“Beg a little more, slut.”

You wiggle your ass, pouting. “Please, Seokjinnie… Please, I want it. Want your cock, wanted it for so long… Please I-”

Seokjin cuts your begging off as he roughly thrusts into you. You cry out, hands scrambling for purchase against the counter as his cock stretches you out all at once. He’s huge, so much bigger than you ever dared imagine. Long and girthy and so perfect to fill every inch of your pussy. You’re honestly not sure how he fits, you feel full to bursting with him buried to the hilt in your cunt. You wished you’d gotten to take your time with it, had him stuff it down your throat. The thought makes saliva pool in your mouth. You’re definitely going to repay the favor and worship his cock when you get the chance.

He swears. “Fuck… your cunt…”

His fingers dig into your hips as he holds himself still for a moment. Then he’s pulling out until just the tip remains before slamming back it, jolting you forward against the counter. Seokjin starts a fast pace, immediately overwhelming you and giving you almost no time to adjust to him. 

His grip tightens on your hips, enough to feel like it’ll be a bruise by morning. “Think you can cum again for me, slut? Cum on my cock for me, baby?”

You whine and shake your head. “N-no… please, can’t…”

Seokjin slams into you, draping himself over you and letting a hand snake around your throat. He waits, giving you a chance to say no to this and when he receives no denial, he squeezes lightly. You gasp and he squeezes a little tighter. You feel lightheaded and if it wasn’t for Seokjin’s body pinning you to the counter, you’d probably slide to the floor. Keeping his grip on your throat, he grinds into you, savoring the way your pussy clenches around him.

He loosens his hold slightly and meets your gaze in the window. “You’re going to cum for me again. And your pretty little cunt is gonna milk every drop of cum I have to give you. How does that sound, baby? Want me to fill your slutty little cunt up?”

As much as you don’t want to, you honestly have no idea if your body is even capable of having another orgasm, you want to find out. And the thought of Seokjin fucking you full on top of it has you nodding to his words almost instantly. “Yes, please… Seokjin, please, fill me up…”

His hand tightens again and he gives you a pleased smirk. “You’re so well behaved now. Hard to believe how much of a naughty little brat you’ve been lately.” 

He switches from grinding to thrusting again, though his position over you means that his thrusts are shorter but no less rough. His other hand slides around to your front, fingers brushing your clit. You clench around him and receive a low moan from him as his grip on your throat loosens again. His fingers circle your clit and you can feel your orgasm quickly creeping up on you. You briefly wonder if it’s possible to die from too many orgasms. But then Seokjin nips at your neck, drawing your focus back to the way his cock drags along your walls and the filth he’s murmuring into your skin as his fingers work faster. 

It washes over you and you cum with a cry of his name, pussy convulsing around his cock. You feel his breath puff against your skin as his forehead presses to your shoulder. His hand falls away from your clit, planting itself once more on your hip as his thrusts pick up speed now that he’s chasing his own end. 

Seokjin’s hips stutter to a stop as he cums with a groan pressed to your skin. His cock twitches inside you as he empties himself in your pussy, filling you up. You sink against the counter, praactically purring in contentment at the flood of warmth that he releases within you. He pants against your skin for a long moment and you let your exhaustion slowly wash over you. You’d give anything for a bed right now and to never have to move again. 

Seokjin pushes himself up and then slowly slips out of you. You whine at the loss and you get a soft chuckle. His hands rub soothingly at your back before they come to rest on your waist. He gives you a squeeze.

“I’m gonna help you stand and get you sitting on the counter, okay?”

You groan. “Don’t wanna…”

Seokjin huffs a soft laugh. “I don’t care. I need to make sure you’re okay and we need to get your skates off.”

He starts moving you, though you know you aren’t much help with how jelly-like your limbs feel. He finally gets you seated on the counter and it takes all your remaining strength to stay sitting upright. You blink hazy eyes at Seokjin; he’s tucked himself back into his pants but they still remain undone, giving you the faintest glimpse of his cock. You pout, you’d wanted to see it. 

His hands cup your cheeks, directing your gaze to his eyes and you blink slowly at him. He gives you a soft smile. “There you are.” His thumbs stroke gently across your cheeks, wiping away the last bits of your tears. “Can you stay sitting up for me? I’m going to get you some water, okay?”

You nod, frowning when his hands leave your face. You want him to keep touching. He turns, grabbing a cup and quickly filling it with water. He hands it to you, helping you when it almost slips through your lax grip. He makes you drink half before he lets you set the cup down. He leans down and makes quick work of your skates, tugging them from your feet. You sigh in relief, feet flexing at finally being free from their confinements and a surprised noise leaves your lips when you feel his thumbs dig into the soles of your feet. He rubs each foot and you nearly fall asleep from the relaxation that slowly spreads through your system.  

Seokjin stands, his hands coming back up to cup your face. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you croak out, lips pursing at how wrecked your voice comes out.

You can see Seokjin fight down a prideful grin as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. It’s silent for a few moments before he’s gasping and you give him a questioning look. He tuts, though you don’t know if it’s directed at you or himself.

“All that and I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

You giggle, he does all that and is worried about the fact that he didn’t kiss you at all. He tilts your head up, soft smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You blink at him for a moment, not expecting him to follow through with fixing that. But when he leans in, you let your eyes slip shut. The kiss is sweet and chaste, the complete opposite of everything that just happened. It lasts for just a moment and you ache to have more of the feel of his plush lips pressed against yours. 

He grins as he pulls away and then busies himself with finding your shoes and your bag, helping you into them. He presses a kiss to your forehead and presses the water back into your grip with the instruction to finish it. He slips his shirt back on, tucking it back into his pants and then he’s darting out the door. Which confuses and alarms you for a split second before you realize that he’s grabbing that money that then men had left on the table. 

He’s quick to cash the ticket out, slipping the hefty tip they left you into your purse before taking the drawer back to the office. He’s gone for a few minutes and you sip slowly at the water while you wait. Now that you’re alone, you wonder what all of that meant. If it was just a culmination of sexual tension and frustration or if there was something more there. Hoseok and Jimin have regularly pushed you to tell Seokjin how you feel. But you’ve always kept that hidden, not wanting to make work suddenly weird when this job and your coworkers are the best you’ve ever had.

And the costumes hadn’t gotten Seokjin to ask you out or offer to be the other half of the pair costumes despite the hints you tried dropping. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in that and just wanted a quick fuck. But some of his actions disprove that. Maybe he was just as nervous as you to ask. 

He reappears, pressing another kiss to your forehead as he takes the empty glass from you and sets it aside. 

“Think you can stand now?”

You shake your legs out experimentally. You certainly seem to have a little more control over them. “I can try.”

That draws an amused snort from him and he helps you down from the counter, hands not leaving you until he’s sure that you’re safe to stand on your own. You adjust your dress, pulling it back down and wincing slightly as the slightly rough material drags over your ass. Your bare ass. You glance around the floor. 

“Hey, where are my underwear?”

Seokjin’s back is to you as he wipes down the part of the counter you were just sitting on. “Oh, they’re completely ruined.” He glances at you over his shoulder with a smirk. “And mine now.”

You squirm, feeling some of his cum drip from your abused cunt. Well at least you’re just going home. You can make it that far. Not that they would’ve been much use to you ripped anyway. Maybe you should make him buy you a new pair. That request might come after the feelings talk though. 

Once he’s done, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss to your hair. “Ready to go?”

You hum and nod. You are seriously ready to sleep for a day. You’re glad that you don’t work tomorrow. You don’t think Seokjin does either. Maybe you can entice him to stay the night and you could cook him breakfast before the two of you talk. 

Seokjin leads you out of the building, locking the door as you go, and guides you towards his car. Your’s is at home, though you’re not sure if Seokjin already knew that or is just directing you towards his car because he doesn’t trust you to drive right now. To be fair, you don’t think you could actually drive if you had to. You’re glad that you’d been planning to drink at the party and so you were just going to either catch a ride, stay at Jimin’s, or get an Uber so that your car isn’t left in the lot overnight. 

Once settled, he starts the car and pulls out of the lot. You frown watching him turn. 

“Seokjin, I live the other way.”

“I know.”

“And you live the other way.”

He smirks. “I know.”

You swallow. “Where are we going?”

“Well, it’s a shame for you to get all dressed up for a party and to not even go to show it off.”

“I can’t go to a party like this!” You only briefly caught sight of your full reflection but you know how fucked out you look. He can’t seriously be taking you to the party right now. 

Seokjin’s hand lands on your thigh. “You had no problem going to work like that.”

You whine and squirm, immediately squeezing your legs together when you feel another dribble of cum slip from you. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Seokjin just hums, driving the rest of the short distance to Jimin’s house in silence. You try your best to fix yourself up in the mirror so you don’t look completely ruined. It’s only slightly effective. You wish you had Yennifer’s powers, then you could just magic your way home. Would serve Seokjin right. 

He parks and helps you out of the car before reaching into the back for a wig and a sword. He adjusts both items and you look him over appraisingly. 

“At least you’ve got Geralt’s brutish personality down.” You tease. 

Seokjin takes your hand and presses a kiss to it before using it to lead you to the house. “I’d like to think I’m far more charming than him.”

You giggle. “That remains to be seen.”

The party is in full swing when you enter and it takes the both of you a few moments to find your friends. When you do, they all are quick to take in your appearance and the way Seokjin’s hand is wrapped around yours. Jimin crows victoriously, slapping Taehyung on the back.

“I told you! You owe me!”

You bury your face in Seokjin’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment. You just wanted to go home and cuddle. Seokjin’s lips brush your ear.

“If you promise to stay a while, we can get revenge on him and go fuck in his bed.”

[bangtanger]

wow

[everythingoes]

Casual joon looks ♡ for @museeofmoon [cr. qdeoks]

[illneverrecover]

after midnight (M) | kth

➛pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader ➛genre: werewolf!AU, bonded/soulmate!AU, elemental werewolf!AU, smut, PWP, some fluff. ➛word count: 7752 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: ~werewolf kinks~, brief mentions of blood, slight possessiveness, BFF Wolf Jungkook, slight a/b/o (mostly Alpha) talk, power play dynamics, cursing, use of ‘good girl’, marking/biting, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), slight face fucking, masturbation (female), unprotected sex, knotting, rough sex, doggy style (werewolfs y’all), squirting, cock warming. ➛summary: Taehyung is the elemental Alpha, the next pack leader, and as the strongest fire user, you are tasked to train him for his confirmation ceremony. But when recurrent dreams start to plague you nightly, you wonder if there’s another reason Taehyung has been brought into your life.  ➛notes: Finally, another fic for my main man. It feels like it’s been far too long! This is another contribution for @bangtanshadowfamily​  Halloween Event, The Creatures of Moonlight Manor, though this time for our lovely Tae. It’s also my ‘Kim Taehyung’ bingo square for @btsholidaybingo​!  I actually started writing this as a commission response for @jimins-ass-eater​ but when I told her I felt like it would fit for some projects, she gave me the greenlight to dual purpose, bless her. For those of you who’ve read ‘Swear Not by the Moon’, the werewolf lore here is similar - only difference being it expands upon it and shows that there are two different types of packs in this universe. As always, I hope you all enjoy! 🖤 ➛song: After Midnight - WayV & INCEPTION - Ateez

For as long as you can remember, you were always told that your taste would change.

The tuts of the elders as they watched you push food around on your plate, not wanting to put the offending green vegetable anywhere near your lips. They'd always chuckle lowly, smile like they had a secret that you weren't privy too.

"You may not like that now, but your taste will change as you grow. You'll see."

It wasn't just with broccoli and onions that you heard this phrase. Throughout the day to day life in the pack, you heard it countless times, your irritation building at each mention of it.

Didn't like the magic you were gifted? That’s okay, that will change. Didn't like being forced to go to pack functions? You’ll enjoy them in a few more years. Don't want to study pack mythology after school? Oh, just wait until you’re older.

For the most part, they had been right, much to your dismay. As you got older, things you once scoffed at or didn't give a second glance to became things you enjoyed, loved even. Each passing year bringing more insight and knowledge that made it apparent that you were an evolving creature, finding her path in the world.

Well, except in one regard.

It seems your taste in men has remained the same.

The first moment you had laid eyes on Taehyung, the word that had come to mind was "beautiful." He was ethereal almost, eyes a beautiful glowing topaz that turned to ice when he shifted into his wolf, a stunning midnight furred beast. He was about 12 when you met, with you a few years older, but you remembered feeling so intimidated by that beauty, the way he looked at you, looked through you.

Despite the looks, it wasn't those that had you crushing hard; instead, it was the wide smile he gave when you were introduced, the genuine excitement jittering through his body as he asked for your name, what you liked to do for fun, had you shifted yet. He was practically beaming, vibrating out of his skin, and it was hard to not become instantly enamored with the future Alpha.

And while his kind heart shined through his every pore, there was also this calm confidence, this restrained swagger that only one of his status can manage. Earth magic users all gave a similar first impression - cool, composed, grounded - but Taehyung wasn’t your average earth user. It was as if you could see the essence of the other elements swirling in his veins, in his gaze; this untapped force. Your inner wolf recognized it from day one, that quiet dominance that flowed just under the surface, ready to bubble over at any moment. 

It fascinated you, this abundance of power. He fascinated you.

However to your disappointment, you didn't become close friends after that initial meeting. You continued to be around each other peripherally, his sweet smile always greeting you any time you ran into him throughout the compound, but that was the extent of your encounters. As a future elemental Alpha, he had a lot of responsibilities and training to attend to, always moving and busy, not having much time to socialize.

These things should quell a crush, make it easier for it to fade slowly away with the morning mist - but instead, it remains a burning ember deep in your heart, always waiting a gust of wind to blow it into full flames.

And now that you are both well into adulthood, getting ready for the next phase of pack life, you realize as you watch Taehyung finalize his training to become Alpha that maybe the elders hadn’t known what they were talking about after all. 

"Are you sure you're going to be able to do this?" Jungkook was staring at you with wide, curious eyes, fidgeting with his hands.

Scoffing, you turn towards him with a glare. "Yes, of course I'm going to be able to do this. What do you mean? This is my job, Kook."

"I know that. But this isn't just training another one of the pack pups - this is training the next elemental Alpha. This is training Taehyung."

Groaning, you pick up a pillow off your bed, tossing it perfectly to hit him square in the face. "Why do you say his name like that? It's not that big of a deal."

Spinning back around before he can respond, you take a cursory glance in your mirror, eyeing the training clothes you had chosen for today. While he was making it seem larger than it was, Jungkook was correct about one thing - training the future Alpha would be different than your other lessons, that's for sure. But it wasn't like you couldn't handle it.

Right?

Magic had come to you a bit later than expected compared to your packmates, but when it manifested, it did so in a massive way. The memories of your first shift were emblazoned in your mind; the way your spirit became whole the moment you had shed your skin to reveal russet fur and forest eyes, how your heart sang as you sped through the woods, cherishing every crunch of dirt between your paws and gust of wind on your ears. And the trail of flame that lit the ground in your wake, how the dried trees were engulfed in fire so bright that it rivaled the sun, had every pack member rushing outside to see what was happening to their compound.

Fire magic was laced within your bones, your blood, and you were the strongest user the pack had seen in decades.

The other fire users had taken you under their wing quickly, helping you harness and control the flame, learning how to turn it off and wield it at will. However, when it became clear that you were stronger - more powerful - than the others, you had taken the role as the lead fire user, training the new converts and even others from sister packs.

It wasn’t what you had seen for yourself, becoming a teacher, but the role came naturally and easily. Always good with people, trainees were comfortable working with you, willing to show their weaknesses in order to become better, and you were proud to see the product of your efforts when they’d leave your sessions as sharper fire magic users.

It was no big deal. Training is something you did every single day, with people from all walks of life, all ranks within the pack. When working with you, they were just a partner, a trainee. Training Taehyung would be the same, you figured.

Wouldn’t it?

"Y/N, let's be real. It's kind of a big deal." Jungkook stood up then, moving closer to clasp a large hand on your shoulder. "I'm not saying you can't handle it though. I know you can. You've kicked my ass more times than I'd care to admit, what's another Alpha at this point?"

Jungkook was a fellow Alpha, though he was not an elemental Alpha like Taehyung, and wasn’t expected to learn all four trades. It didn’t stop him from begging to train with you, however. He was a skilled air user, who didn’t have a single good reason for wanting to learn fire tricks other than the fact that he’s a perfectionist and wants to be good at everything. 

Grinning, you turned to him then, smacking his shoulder. "Exactly, it's nothing! Nothing I can't handle. Plus, he's fated to be the next pack elemental Alpha, it should be easy for him, right?"

Jungkook guffaws before full on belly laughing, his eyes crinkling as the high pitched giggle echoes around the room. "Sure babe, let's go with that."

You pout, face falling. "Okay, well now I'm kind of scared."

Turns out, you had a right to be.

When you walked out to the training field, Taehyung had been waiting for you, a big smile on his face as you came to greet him. Eyeing him once over, you noticed his clothing choice - a button down top that almost looked like pajamas, and big, breezy cotton pants.

"Taehyung, did you bring clothes to train in?"

Looking down at himself, he scans his form quickly before raising a brow. "I'm wearing them," he meets your eyes then, seeing your skepticism. "Well, I thought I was, anyway."

Giving him a soft smirk, you gesture towards your bag. "That's okay, I brought extras just in case. Go ahead and get changed and then we can get started."

Nodding, Taehyung immediately began undoing his clothes right in front of you, seemingly nonplussed by the prospect of you seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

Plopping the bag at his feet, you go towards the side of the field, pretending like you needed to check the practice dummies when in reality you needed to force oxygen to your brain and catch your breath.

Luckily, you were composed by the time he met you in the center of clearing.

"Okay, so for today, I just want to see where you're at. I know you mentioned fire being your least strong element, but I've seen you in wolf form and practicing around the compound with the others. You have good instincts, so I want to know if that translates."

Smirking, he nods, shoulders squaring back.

"Well then let's go, little dove."

As you expected, he did have some natural instincts that drove his movements. He made smart blocking choices, and even on occasion was able to strike effectively, leaving a small singed burn on the rounded top of your shoulder, much to your surprise.

However, he was relying too much on his other magics; using air, earth, and water to assist, to cover where he lacked with his flame. Which would be fine, if he was sparring with anyone but you. He also kept leveraging on his physical strength in hopes that it would give him an advantage, which you found an interesting approach - and one easily dominated with some strong bursts of flame.

It's how you're able to pin him not once, not twice - but three times in a row.

You were still panting, chest heaving as your hands encircled his wrists, nose pressed in the crook of his neck, exposing the soft pulse to your teeth. You had dropped all your magic, making sure that your touch wouldn’t burn, but you felt impossibly hot on top of him. He was growling lowly, more of a warning than anything, but it still made the hairs on your nape stand on end.

"You're better than I expected," he grits between clenched teeth, irritation lacing his voice. "Stronger, too."

Pulling away, you meet his eyes, which were glowing in their glacier blue. "You were underestimating me the entire spar, Tae. That's the first lesson - don't discount your opponent just because of what you think you know about them."

The annoyance is rolling off his form in waves, and instead of pushing further, you move to stand, reaching down to help him to his feet as well.

For a few moments, no words are exchanged, just heavy breaths in the air between you both.

"You're right. And I know you're right, and that's why I asked for help. But there's still a part of me that is furious that you were able to best me."

His admittance makes you keen, and a smirk pulls at your lips. "That's your cocky elemental Alpha wolf talking, and that's okay. I'm not here to train him."

Sauntering towards you, he stops when he's inches away, towering over your sweaty form. A gust of air washes over you, tousling your hair away from your face, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s using his magic, flexing his abilities. Something burns deep in his gaze, something dark, feral, and he licks his lips before speaking.

"Good. Because if you tried to train him, I think it would be you who would be taught a lesson after I pin you to the ground."

Before you can reply, he's turning to walk away, throwing you one last grin over his shoulder before he's out of sight.

The next several days of training go much like the first. Each day, you train with Taehyung, using different techniques and styles of magic, and each day you find ways that he can improve, techniques to tap into his magic better, more efficient. He's a quick learner, which makes it a bit less painful - after a few demonstrations, he's able to pick up the skill, echoing it back almost perfectly.  It gives you hope that he's willing and capable of changing and adapting, but it seems you're the only one.

Much like the first day, each time you're able to pin Taehyung, his wolf has to creep in to remind you just exactly who is in charge at the end of the day. You know it's part of your nature; that he can't help it, but it's also starting to affect you in more ways than one, your wolf always surging at each innuendo laced pass he sends your way.

It's to the point that you start to crave those moments when he loses control; start to press his buttons until it's inevitable that he'll snap and try to put you in your place. He seems to enjoy it as well, always loving the extra boost to his ego at being able to turn the tables on you, to prove exactly why he is the next pack Alpha.

It isn't until the middle of the next week that he breaks the routine.

"Do you think... we could hold off on magic and just talk today?"

You eye him quizzically, unsure of what the motivation would be, but ultimately not seeing any harm in granting the request. "Sure, Tae. What do you want to talk about?"

Moving to sit on the wooden bench at the edge of the field, he pats the space next to him until you join, watching him intently.

"I don't know. I guess I'm just feeling extra pressured today and I know my mind isn't in it. And," he nudges you, grinning. "I know that when my mind isn't in it, it's almost guaranteed that you'll be handing my ass to me shortly after."

Laughing, you nudge back. "Okay, that's fair. But we can still count this as work - having a solid mental state is also important. Want to talk about what's bothering you?"

He clears his throat, glancing around. "It's not really any one thing, honestly. I just - there's so much riding on my shoulders, you know? So much everyone is expecting of me.”

Staying silent, you nod, gaze soft and dripping with empathy. You may not be able to relate to the pressure he feels, but you would be stupid to not realize how much lies on his shoulders.

Being a pack of elemental wolves - or Nyx Blessed, as the old text would say - already made your pack stand out, made them different. Only wolves touched with Nyx’s blessing are able to wield magic of the elements, use it as a form of connection to nature to honor it and protect it. Traditional wolf shifters were more common, and there were on average about five Moon Blessed packs to every elemental pack.

Being an Alpha was relatively rare and came with expectations. But being an elemental Alpha born and bred to be the next pack leader? The pressure would be astronomical. 

“Part of me knows that the pack would support me no matter what, wouldn’t push me to take over until I was ready,” he sighs, hand threading through his hair. “But they still treat me differently, like I’m some kind of savior. It messes with me sometimes. I’m just me. Taehyung. The same goofy earth magic wolf who was so excited to shift for the first time that he ran headfirst into a tree.” 

A giggle escapes you at the imagery, and he gives you a slight grin. “I just… I guess I wish I’d be seen more for who I am beneath the title, beneath the pressure. I wish people would know me.”

There’s something about his words that is causing your heart to squeeze painfully in your chest, your wolf crying out for the man beside you. Reaching over,  you place a hand over his own, squeezing it once.

“I can’t imagine the pressure you’re under, Tae. I know it’s a lot, even without having to master all the elements. But I see you - I see you for you. Not what you are to the pack, not what you can do for me.”

He meets your eyes, warm topaz shining at you with dazzling brilliancy. Breath catching, you swallow thickly, heat rising to your cheeks under the scrutiny. 

“You’re determined, headstrong, insanely intelligent. But you’re also funny, and kind, and willing to learn. You’re a great person, a great wolf. Alpha status or not, we’re lucky to have you.” 

He beams at you with a boxy grin, tension seemingly leaving his body as he reaches forward and suddenly pulls you to his chest, crushing you to him. 

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,”

“I- oof, you’re breaking my ribs - I doubt that.”

Releasing you, he laughs, mischief returning to his expression as he raises a brow. 

“Okay, how about this - it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“That’s… that’s probably accurate.”

You’re not sure when it changes, but it does, slowly at first. 

Taehyung starts scheduling more training dates, starts arriving earlier to help you set up. He asks to review tricks and techniques that he had aced weeks ago, stating that he just wanted a freshener course. 

Every session was dripping with his sly flirtations, with mutual playful banter that left you both giggly and thrilled, like you were on a rollercoaster climbing the hill, waiting for an adrenaline crash. 

And they all ended the same way - with you two walking back to the compound together, talking and laughing the whole way, walking as slow as you could to drag the time longer. Sometimes he’d invite you for a coffee after, and you’d oblige if your schedule was free, but the times when you had to turn him down he’d just give you a wistful smirk and grasp your chin with his hand.

 “Okay, little dove. I’ll see you next time.”

Then the dreams started.

Recurring dreams, always the same. You’re in the woods, surrounded by an audience of trees, not another soul in sight. The wolf itching to break free of the bonds, to run free. When you finally let her, finally shift, you take off at top speed, racing through the forest as if life depends on it. You run until your joints ache, the pads of your paws raw and torn, lungs bursting - and then you burst into a large clearing and see him, the other wolf.  The one you’ve been looking for. The one you’ve been running for, racing towards as if it was your anchor to this world. And once you’re close enough to nuzzle into his neck, scenting him, a sense of peace overcomes you right before you awaken. 

Some nights, you didn’t make it to the clearing and you woke with sweat beading at your brow, heart thudding in your chest. Other times, the dream goes on for just a moment more, just enough to feel a bond snap into place-

But you could never be sure who the other wolf was.

Of course, you had ideas. Hopes. Concerns that this could be the mating bond starting to form, even though a stressful event (which is the usual trigger) didn’t occur, not yet anyway. 

There’s something more, just beneath the surface. You feel it building deep in your core, even when in wolf form - like there is an invisible string, leading you down a path of destiny if only you can follow it to the end. A tether pulling you closer to an inevitable fate. You’re unsure what it is, where you’re being led, but there is a tiny voice inside your head that knows it has to do with Taehyung, and when you finally acknowledge it, your heart sings. 

However, with his elemental Alpha presentation only days away, there wasn’t enough time to dwell on whatever complicated web you had weaved. Instead, every ounce of energy was poured into making sure he was ready, would be able to wield the fire effortlessly as he consummated the ceremony to formally accept being the next pack leader. The last thing you needed to worry him about was the feeling you got every time he smiled at you, or the warmth in your chest when you thought of him, as if he were yours - as if he was your mate.

Mate.

“Hey, are you with me, Y/N?” Taehyung waves his hand in front of your face, concern furrowing his brow. “You seem distracted.”

With a practiced smile, you inhale deeply, pushing his shoulder teasingly. “The only thing I’m distracted by is how much sweat you are producing. Is that a quality that’s mandatory to being an Alpha?”

Taehyung snorts. “To be a good one, yes.”

The distractions get worse as it gets closer, and towards the end you both drop any pretense of actually training, instead mostly working on the movements of the ceremony itself as you watch, giving pointers when needed. 

It’s as he’s working with the element of water that you decide to goad him - and he decides to break. 

“That wave was pretty weak, it barely got the sand in the vase wet. You should probably hang it up, let them find someone else for the gig,” you taunt, fire dancing in your eyes.

Suddenly, Taehyung is no longer in center field, instead imposing over you with arms on either side of your form until you’re forced to lay back on the bench. Towering above you, you feel the growl before you hear it, low and menacing.

“Hmm, is that so, little dove? You don’t think I’m capable of making things wet?”

Voice trapped in your throat, any retort you possibly had dies as your wolf whines, turning your head to surrender to the force of the Alpha call.

He smirks devilishly, nosing along your exposed throat until he can nip at the lobe of your ear, making you gasp. “You want to see just how wet I can make you?”

You want nothing more than to give in, to give yourself to him, begging him to mark you and claim you as his own. Want nothing more than to see just what he and his wolf are capable of, what ruination they’d make of you.

Before you can speak, he’s moved away, a cheeky grin still plastered on his face at your flustered state. “So greedy. You’ll have to wait until after the ceremony for fun, hmm? Think you can do that for me?”

Speechless, you nod, and that seems to placate the wolf.

“Good girl.”

It’s the day of the ceremony, and no one can find Taehyung.

Festivities don’t begin until the evening, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t expectations of the time leading up to it, and yet he is nowhere to be seen. The moment you awaken - shaking off yet another dream - you can feel the tension in the air, the palpable thickness of fear and confusion that has ridden your pack.

You dress quickly, sprinting to the center of the compound to see what’s going on when you run into a wide eyed Jungkook.

“Kook? What’s going on, why is everyone-”

“They can’t find Taehyung,” he rushes, wringing his hands. “Jimin said he saw him last night, that they had a drink together before heading to bed, but then this morning he wasn’t in his room and no one has seen him around the compound.”

Anxiety tingles low in your belly, though you quickly shove it down. Taehyung was many things, but he was not the type to leave his pack when they needed him most. “I’m sure he’s fine, probably just wanted to clear his head before the ceremony, make sure he has his magic down.” 

Jungkook nods, letting out a relieved breath. “Yeah, that’s a good point. I bet that’s exactly it! I’ll go tell the guys,” he starts walking away, looking back once. 

“You should go find him! Help settle his mind.” He throws over his shoulder, before jogging back to the group of concerned pack members gathered.

Should you?

The thought crosses your mind that maybe he’s hoping you’ll show, maybe he needs you. You think back to that conversation all those weeks ago on that bench, the insecurities he shared, how open he was. How much he had just needed a friend. 

And then, you’re running.

Tearing through the compound until you’re deeper in the trees, bones itching as you prepare to shift, seamlessly continuing your pace once you’re in wolf form. A lingering picture comes to your mind, the place you might find him, and it only takes a moment for your nose to confirm the trail, to take off after him.

Kicking up the speed, you race towards the scent, a low buzzing now ringing in your head in time to the crunch of earth beneath your feet, almost like the bass of a drum, a crescendo of a melody building to something unknown. 

The final notes come from plucking the red string in your chest as the clearing comes to view, following the line to the large midnight furred wolf standing right where you had dreamed him, icy azure eyes already on your own, as if he knew you’d come. 

Taehyung.

It’s then the bond snaps into place, as you run towards your Alpha, skidding to a stop only once you can bury your nose into his nape, breathe him in. You feel a satisfied throaty growl rumble against you, the sound of contentment making your heart sing as his wolf pulls you closer, starts scenting you.

You aren’t sure how long you remain this way, your wolves tangled up in each other basking in the fresh scent of the newly mated, enjoying the feel of his large form pressed into the side of your own. You’d be content to remain here forever with him, enjoying the connection that you had been longing for, if it wasn’t for the ceremony-

Oh, shit! The ceremony!

With a longing gaze and a whine, you leave Taehyung to shift back to human form, prompting him to do the same. The string of fate had felt intense in wolf form, but feels more complete now that you’ve connected in both forms, two sides of a mated coin. 

“Taehyung,” your voice is soft, a whisper. “Are - are you okay?” 

It was a loaded question, you knew, but when his eyes sparkle and a wry grin pulls at his lips, you know the answer. 

“I just found my mate - my fated mate! And it’s you! The person I’ve been crushing on since I was twelve…” his cheeks redden, a hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. 

You feel your breath catch then, his words sinking in - that long? Did he know that he had been it for you, too? - before he speaks again, stepping into your inseam. 

“I’m more than okay. I’m so happy, little dove.” 

Large hands cup your face, his forehead leaning on yours. Despite how fast your heart was pounding, your soul felt at ease. Turning your face, you press your lips to his palm once before glancing back at him. “Me too, Tae.”

He shudders at the feel of your mouth on his skin, his gaze darkening before he’s pulling you flush against him, face burying into your neck. Electricity races down your spine as he noses at your throat, lips ghosting over the tender flesh, and the rush of desire that hits you is so powerful that it makes you dizzy.

“Wait, Tae-Taehyung,” you protest weakly, yelping when a point of his canine drags against your skin. “We should talk first. Why were you out here? Is it about the ceremony?” 

He pauses then, giving a final kiss at the base of your throat with a pouty groan before pulling away to meet your eyes once more. There was fire in them, blazing deep, but it was contained for now. 

“I just.. Remember that conversation we had before, that day of training?” 

“Of course.”

“I had a drink with Jimin last night before bed, and I know he was drunk but… he kept going on and on about how much he’ll miss me, how things won’t be the same after the ceremony, that I’ll be too busy for him.” He looks down then, bare feet dragging against an unknown assailant in the grass. “It broke my heart that he thought I would just abandon him like that. I’ll be the elemental pack Alpha, but I’ll still be me. It was like my greatest fear was staring me down, and my mind wouldn’t stop racing. I decided to go for a run since I couldn’t sleep.”

Reaching out, you grasp both his hands with your own, intertwining them. “Why here, of all places? Have you been here before?”

His face flushes, eyes widening as he gives a small smile. “No, actually. But I kept dreaming about it…”

It only takes a beat before his words sink in, an incredulous giggle escaping your lips before you can stop it. The dreams. He was having the exact same dreams. Infectious joy swells inside you until you feel like you could burst, instead yanking him closer to you, smoothing your hands over the wide planes of his chest as you grin up at him.  “I’ve been dreaming of you, too.” 

He beams down at you, lowering his forehead to yours once more. “I just had a feeling that if I came here, I could clear my head. I’d find the answers I was seeking… and then, like magic, you arrived. And suddenly everything made perfect sense.”

A comfortable silence enveloped you both until you found your courage to say what you had been thinking for weeks.

“I promise I will always see you. I will see you as Taehyung, my mate before I see you as Taehyung, my Alpha,” you breathe. “And I also promise that I won’t allow anyone to forget you as you are.”

His eyes darken as you speak, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he raised a brow at you. The expression reminded you of before, of all those moments on the training field when you would push him to his limits, and anticipation tingles at your nerves. 

“Say it again,” 

“Say what again?”

He huffs then, impatience building. “The part about being my mate. Say it again,” he murmurs, voice impossibly low.

The fire is back in his eyes, and you can feel flames building in your core in return, heat burning through your bones. 

“I’m your mate, and you are mine.” 

A satisfied hum passes through his lips as he leans in, mouth dragging against your throat. “Good. And now it’s also time to make sure you see me as your Alpha, too.” 

Squeezing your thighs together, you let out a breathy chuckle. “What happened to waiting until after the ceremony, hmm?”

“That was before I knew you were my fated mate,” he muffles into your skin, refusing to part from you as his arms wrap around your waist. “Now be a good girl, come here.”

The moment your lips connect with Taehyung’s, any feeble protest you had is forgotten, your body responding immediately in kind. Your mouth slots against his, tongue seeking entrance, tasting you so deeply that you forget how to breathe. Lust pools low in your belly and you drape your arms around his neck, fingers finding purchase in the sandy hair at his nape, tugging.

He answers with a growl, one that has your own wolf keening, ravenous. It's impossible to have him closer and yet you try, clawing at his shoulders, pulling him until you can feel the rhythm of his heart beating against your own.

You’re unsure of when he ripped your shirt off or when he became bare chested himself, but you find yourself topless in his embrace, large hands skimming down the sides of your body while his lips move over yours, yanking your pants and panties to join the pile of discarded clothes. 

His continuing touch is feather light, as if he’s following the lines of your breasts, your hips to make sure you’re real. For all the dominant words, his hands feel teasing, hesitant, and your frustration builds. Pulling away from his mouth, you gasp for air. 

“Tae, I need you,” your voice is pitched, but the words ring with desire, your hunger known. 

He pauses then, eyes drinking you in while he catches his breath. You’re completely stripped before him now, and he can’t help but think you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“My mate is so gorgeous, so perfect. What do you need, little dove? Need your Alpha?” 

Nodding, you swallow thickly. “Yes, yes need my Alpha, need him to mark me.” 

That seems to break the spell he was under, and if he had been holding back before you were certain he wasn’t now - his shoulders rolling, gaze piercing as he stalks toward you until he’s close enough to wrap a hand around the base of your throat. “God, you’re going to be the death of me,” he murmurs, free hand grabbing at the flesh of your ass, guiding you backwards into the clearing.

He’s kissing you again, groaning against your pout with each swipe of his tongue, and you’re writhing against him, arousal making your nipples stiffen and your core clench. Fire smolders through every vein, and you fight to stifle your magic from lashing out, channeling it into your desire. You’re desperate to feel him inside you, to consummate the bond, and you move away to lick and nip at his neck, his collarbone. 

Taehyung doesn’t stop you, instead he sinks his hands into your hair, throws his head back as you trail down his form leaving red marks in your wake. Dropping to your knees, you palm his length, relishing in how hard he feels despite the obstacle of his pants - one you promptly free him from. 

His answering hiss when his cock was released had your mouth watering, pupils dilating at the sight. Just like everything else with Taehyung, his dick was perfect; long enough to hit the spots inside of you that would make you dizzy, and so thick that you know you’ll feel him for hours after he’s spilled inside of you. You rub your thighs together restlessly, a hand rising to squeeze gently at his base.

Peering up through your lashes, you give a tentative lick at his leaking tip, swirling your tongue around him slowly. His gaze was dark, ice blue barely visible anymore as he watched you intently, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Dropping your jaw, you plunge down his length a few inches before closing your lips around him, allowing him to slide deeper on the bed of your tongue. 

His hands tighten their grip in your hair as he moans, guiding you further. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” Clenching his jaw, he rolls his head back, the veins in his neck visible for a brief moment before he’s peering down at you with a predatory gaze.  “That dangerous little mouth of yours has many talents, hmm?” 

Smirking around his length, you slowly pull off of him with a lewd pop, pumping his cock with your fist. “You have no idea,” you murmur, before taking him back into your mouth, diving until his swollen head hit the back of your throat. 

Taehyung hisses, cursing under his breath as you begin to slide up and down his shaft faster, free hand rising to cup his heavy balls, rolling them in your palm. 

He was having a hard time controlling himself, his wolf at war with his own mind. The Alpha in him demanding that he flip you onto all fours and claim you; to fuck you ruthlessly until he was satiated and you were full of his seed - while his rational thought wanted to take his time with you, to savor the moment. 

His hips begin to thrust, meeting your mouth on the downstroke, and you muffle a moan at the delectable pressure, roughness edged with ecstasy. Cunt pulsing with neglect, you slide a hand between your thighs, dipping two fingers into your wetness before circling your clit fervently.

It’s then that the scent of your arousal hits him, the effect immediate - pupils dilated, Alpha fully engaged. With a growl he’s pulling you up and towards him, yanking your wrist so he could suck the slick off your fingers. “You taste so fucking good, so sweet. I bet you’re so wet, waiting to take your mate.” 

A throaty moan is your only response as he latches his mouth to your neck, guiding you down to the ground with him towering over you. “Next time, I’m going to go slow, lick every single inch of you, devour you-” he pauses to inhale deeply, your aroma of desire mixed with the mating bond making his cock twitch against your core. “But right now, I need to be inside of you.” 

The chill of the soft grass on the bare skin of your back barely registers as Taehyung ruts against you, arms pushing your legs back to your ears, caging you and leaving you open to his mercy. His eyes are lust blown and feral as he teases you, entranced by the way his length was covered in your slick, the way you would mewl when the thick head pressed against your swollen clit. 

And then with a sinister smirk and a shift of his hips, he was sliding inside of you, taking your breath away. 

“Fuck,” you whine, nails digging into the soft earth beside you. “Taehyung, please-”

“You are so warm and tight, little dove. Fucking incredible,” he hisses before picking up the pace, giving you no time to adjust to the intrusion. The stretch is unforgiving and exquisite; the painful pressure bleeding into pleasure, causing the band in your belly to grow taunt. Looking up at him with heavy lids, you see the ravenous need mirrored in his gaze, in the low growl tearing through his throat. 

“I need you to come for me,” he grunts, a large palm sliding down your body until it reaches your engorged bundle of nerves. Rolling it between his finger and thumb, he pauses briefly to lean down and spit, his cool salvia mixing with your arousal and lubricating his efforts further. Squealing, your back arches against his onslaught, but he’s relentless, his thrusts striking deep while his hand continues. 

“I need to knot you, need to mark you as mine - but not until you come for your Alpha.” 

As if your body was made to be commanded by him, your vision goes white as the band in your gut snaps, walls colvusing and squeezing his length as you're thrown into your orgasm. He fucks you through the high, fingers still encircling your clit, milking every last moan and mewl of his name from your lips. Dropping his face to yours, he presses chaste kisses on your mouth between murmuring words of praise. 

“Such a good little dove. My perfect little mate.” With one last lingering swipe of his tongue against yours, he pulls away, grasping for your waist. “You’re going to take my knot so good, aren’t you?”  His voice is impossibly low, raspy as he whispered filth against the heated skin of your neck. “Just can’t wait for me to fill this little pussy up with my come, can you?” 

Before you can fathom a response, strong arms are flipping you onto all fours, a palm sliding from your tailbone up your back until your chest is pressed to the ground, ass up and bared before him. He groans at the sight, hands grasping and pulling at the globes of flesh appreciatively

“T-Tae, yes,” you cry, writhing against him in anticipation, clenching around nothing when you feel him line himself up against your center. “Need you to fill me up, need my Alpha to claim me, please.”

“Fuck,” he moans, leaning over your body, slowly burying himself inside of you. “I know you do, baby.”  Once he’s fully seated, he rolls his hips against you, using a free hand to grasp your jaw, tilting you back towards his mouth. “You’re mine.” 

He slides out briefly only to impale himself inside you again, his thrusts harsh and picking up their canter. He’s practically folded over your body, ramming within your tender walls ruthlessly, his tongue sliding out to entangle with yours. Heat builds rapidly in your core, another orgasm approaching faster than ever before, and you try to warn him with a broken moan of his name.

“That’s it, come for me again,” he husks, nipping at your bottom lip. “Want to feel you soak me.” 

Stars dance in your vision as he assaults the tender spot of your dripping cunt, his bruising pace and vulgar words throwing you over the edge. The short duration between your peaks has increased the intensity, and your moans turn into high pitched unintelligible sobs as you drench the tops of your thighs with your release, Taehyung cursing lowly as you pulse against him. 

“Good girl,” he grunts lowly, before sinking his fingers into the hair at your nape, pulling your head back until the lean line of your throat is exposed. “My turn.” 

And then he’s sinking his teeth into the tender flesh, formally marking you as his mate. 

As the mark takes hold, your inner wolf sings, the blistering burn fading into a fervent pulse, linking you to your Alpha. It’s like all the planets have aligned, the string of fate a glowing ruby between you and the man at your neck, and a wave of peace washes over you, despite the fact that Taehyung was still pumping into you; laving at the newly minted mate mark with a skilled tongue. 

A sudden pressure at your entrance has you snapping back to the present, a whimper passing your lips. “Shh, you can do this, baby. You were made for me,” he praises, his knot slipping inside you as he edges near his orgasm. His mouth is soothing on your neck as his cock fills you, hips staccato against your quivering core as he finally spills inside of you with a howl, painting your walls with his seed. 

The pleasurable ache of his knot is practically pulsing inside of you as he murmurs your name over and over, pressing small kisses on your mark, your cheeks, your lips. Gently, he maneuvers you both into a spooning position on the ground, adjusting behind you before pulling you flush against him, nose buried in the crook of your neck. 

“Are you okay, little dove?”

“Mmhmm,” 

“Are you sure? I wasn’t too rough?”

“You were perfect. Are perfect,” you hum, eyes drooping as you get lost in the rhythm of his heartbeat. “I mean, except for the fact that we just consummated the bond in a clearing, on the ground.”

You feel him smile against your skin. “Hey, I used my earth magic to soften it first. I’m a gentleman.”

 “Tae.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He chuckles then, his breath tickling the wisps on your nape. “Are you kidding? I mean, have you seen yourself? Strongest fire elemental wolf in the pack, smart, funny, beautiful. And you get saddled with the likes of me?”

Giggling, you wish you could turn to face him, instead settling for reaching for the strong line of his jaw and pulling him to your mouth. “Someone’s gotta keep the Alpha in line.” you purr, eyes flashing. 

His smirk darkens as he presses against your lips, growling. “Did someone not learn her lesson? Do I need to pin you again?” 

“Mm, maybe so. After the ceremony, maybe I’ll show you a few moves.”

Miraculously, you and Taehyung somehow make it back right before the ceremony was about to begin, only a little worse for the wear. You expected an onslaught of questions, of curious stares and annoyed remarks on the whereabouts and delays of their elemental Alpha, and yet everyone stared at you knowingly, small smiles on their faces. 

It’s only once Taehyung presses a kiss to your forehead before bounding into the clearing and the Elder begins the ceremony that you slide next to Jungkook, side eyeing him silently. 

He’s trying and failing to hide a grin, smugness all over his face, and after a few moments you can’t stand it. 

Elbowing him, you whisper harshly. “What’s that look for, you dingus?”

Stifling a chuckle, he leans down, eyes never leaving the Alpha performing the early steps of the ceremony before him. “Oh nothing, just the whole pack hearing Taehyung’s howl as he marked and claimed you as his mate. How are you feeling, by the way? Rumor has it he’s packing.”

It only takes you half a second to call your flame to your fingers and press them against Jungkook’s arm, his responding cry worth the glares from the Elders. The sound calls Taehyung’s attention too; his body now in position in front of the line of each elemental representation, ready to begin - but his eyes burning deep into your own. 

The surge of love that floods the bond has you smiling widely, two fingers rising to press against your lips as you return the call with unspoken declarations that you knew he’d hear all the same.  I see you. I love you too, my mate. My Alpha. 

Without looking away, you respond to Jungkook just as Taehyung sets the giant pyre of wood ablaze, flame towers licking up to the midnight sky. 

“I’m feeling glad that some dreams come true.”

You can feel him staring at you, waiting for more explanation, but you don’t continue - instead watching your mate wield your element as if in a passionate dance - and thanking the stars that your tastes didn’t change.

[lucid-jjin]

ʰᵉˡᵖ

[mnygs]

...no thoughts

[jjkpls]

Flavours (m) - 1

> genre : angst, implied smut

> pairing : kim taehyung x reader (f)

> total words : 1.4k

> content/warnings : e2l!au, office!au, fuckboi!tae, mature language, undesired dickpic, mention of sexual harassement, the office boss is a dickhead, mention of anxiety

masterlist - next

Greasy

He is so greasy. He's grease embodied.

From afar, he's staring. One hand holding the little coffee he's ordered, the other is high close to his face. He has an absentminded smile on, with his long and thin index finger, the tip of it, caressing his bottom lip. His sharp dark eyes are solely aimed at her.

The beautiful girl doesn't notice for a long, long while. She's being talked left and right by different managers and your boss, all very manly right now, as they try to welcome her and introduce the company and the building.

Then finally, she notices. She must feel the heat of his gaze on her face, she turns slightly his way, looks curiously at him until he waves his hand, smiling gently, with a little wiggle of the fingers. She nods in greeting, smiles, and then gets back to her conversation at hands. That's the moment you decide you have seen enough. She's turned her back to him, and he's still gazing, drooling all over the fucking place.

Gross.

He's also blocking the entrance to the lounge area. That's why you bump into him, totally on purpose, even grazing the side of his Italian shoes with your heel leaving a cute little personalized imprint in the leather. You hoped to have his coffee spill a bit, at least on his hand, but unfortunately, gravity must be one of his bitches and doesn't care to please you on this one.

You pass by him, he barely gives you an acknowledging brush of the eye, busy as he is, actively restraining himself from getting a boner while simultaneously eye-fucking this poor girl he doesn't know.

The poor girl is about to get even poorer, you realize, as you hear the loud voice of your boss getting nearer. Taehyung chooses this moment to back away from the entryway, aiming for the wall where he can lean, because people like Taehyung lean here and there like they're fucking posing instead of say, using one of the numerous chairs available as you do.

When the big boss arrives and sees you there, his smile grows only wider and you know exactly what his next words are going to be.

"Perfect! Here, you have the prettiest!" You giggle, a bit sheepish, ignoring the way Taehyung is observing you like he's trying to see it but can't. The boss adds your name after and you wonder what the girl's nickname will be. Not that you care so much for yours but it would be quite awkward to have her steal it from you. Even though, she is very beautiful (no homo). "For anything, any question, you can go to her. You're in the best of hands with her, right?" You nod and he asks again, "Right?" He hates when you don't use words but you also hate speaking uselessly. He's the big boss though, you can’t really stand him but you're smart enough to humour him.

"Yes, of course!" He's satisfied with the answer. His attention switch to Taehyung whom he gives a mildly unenthusiastic look. "Here's Kim Taehyung. He's also part of the accounting team." Taehyung does more of his eye performance. Something that should probably be illegal, strongly looks like sexual harassment. But she doesn't seem that fazed. Smiling kindly to both him and you. "This is Alena, she's our new intern starting tomorrow. You'll take good care of her, right?"

"Sure." You reassure at the same time Taehyung says, "Will be my pleasure."

Greasy. as. fuck.

They leave and Taehyung decides he doesn't need to Vogue anymore therefore he comes to sit next to you, on the sofa, when there are a million other available seats. Very annoying. But you're not moving for his stupid ass.

"You need to befriend her, talk to her about me." You frown, taping a little more aggressively on your phone from the irritation his baritone voice, too close to your ear, brings.

"And why exactly would I do that?"

"Tell her I'm nice and funny and (more importantly) packed." He goes on, ignoring blatantly your question.

"I don't know any of these things to be true though and I don't wanna lie." You mumble with a quiet enjoyment you choose not to express. When you only show annoyance and boredom as a reaction to him talking to you, he still fucking sticks to your ass so what would happen if you'd show any sign of even mild content? You don't even want to risk it.

"You don't?" Your attention raises to him from your phone only long enough to see the look he's giving you. Insistent stare, cocked eyebrow and dubious pout.

"Did you delete the picture I sent you?" This actually makes you groan.

About this picture. The cursed picture. That's Taehyung in all his glorious grease. You're still confused about how he even thought that this was a good idea, that he could allow himself to do that. Point of the matter is, he sent you a dick pic a long time ago, when you barely knew each other.

He's Seokjin's, your favourite cousin, dear dongsaeng and as so, when he heard from you that your company was hiring he placed a word about Kim Taehyung. There's nothing you wouldn't do for your cousin and trusting him, you simply got him the job. You hate this place but this place loves and relies on you. Therefore you didn't even have to do much to have them consider seriously his application. He passed the interview with flying colours because Taehyung is good at talking his way. And the very same day, he was stalking you through the hallways to find you and thank you personally and ask for your number. He wanted to take you out to dinner as a thankful gift and even if you acted coy out of politeness, that sounded amazing as there's nothing that tastes better than free food as a broke adult. Therefore you very willingly so gave out your number and the very same night, how surprising, instead of receiving maybe a text naming a day and place, came in a dick pic.

Him, in cursed grey joggers, tongue out and winky face on, one hand helping the cloth to wrap perfectly around the monstrous thing he was hiding under his pants. The only reason you didn't call your boss or at least Seokjin to report the offence was that you spent too much time trying to figure out what the deal of this thing was. You could not believe it actually was his dick. After further analysis, either he hid a monster rubber cock under there and took the picture, either he is indeed packed.

But it doesn't matter.

You despise rude creep fuckboys and he is the very epitome of it. Hence you kind of hating his guts. You're too good, or too stupid maybe, and didn't say anything to anyone, feeling sort of petty for even considering getting him fired already. The prospect of having to work with him filled you with so much anxiety, you wondered if good karma was really worth it. Turns out he's not half bad at his job. He's not as dumb as others in your team. He is lazy though. And obnoxious and annoying too. But at least, he can do his job without having you explain over and over again to another windy brain how the hell they're supposed to do what they are paid to do.

You did not keep the picture by the way. You never saved it on your phone. But you also never deleted it from the conversation. After closing the messaging app, you just never came back to it. Because you never answered, he did not try and insist further. At least, he can take a clue. Boys usually can't.

When the following day you welcomed him with the nastiest, gloomiest glare you own, he shut down completely and didn't mention it. He could have apologized. Honestly, you would have appreciated that. But that's Kim Taehyung, you're pretty sure he can't physically do that.

It has been months, almost half a year now, and he feels comfortable enough to bring that damn picture to the table and this really irks your tolerance for him. You hate talking, especially when it's not necessary. And here comes a perfect instant where it comes full force. You have eyes expressive enough that will do the talking your mouth doesn't feel like doing.

He sees them, almost shudder, before he gets up mumbling to himself like a petulant ass child, "just asking, was a good one", and leaves.

Finally.

An actual break.

A/N: hello! here, we’re starting! tell me, how are you feeling? what are you expecting? do you hate tae already or not yet? as always, thank you so much for giving my fics some of your time, i hope you have a wonderful day, and even better week :)

if you want to be added to the tag list, please, ask on the teaser/masterlist post, thank you

if you want to support me on ko-fi

taglist: @hoefortaeshands​ @ggukkieland​ @somewhereofftheglobe​ @deliciouslydisturbed365​ @codeinebelle​ @takochelle​ @teresaisla​ @taehugger​ @flavaflav​ @joon-july-agustd-septaember​ @mwitsmejk​ @bunbundesu

[honeymoonjin]

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: fanboy!taehyung x artist!reader

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 13.7k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: still bitter about a scandal that ruined your painting career, you’re recommended a getaway by your therapist to a small island off the coast of seoul. expecting a tranquil location to wallow in self-pity, you’re startled when on your first night, you encounter an avid fan of your work. instead of annoying you for an autograph, kim taehyung ends up being the very thing you need to fall in love with art again.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: sexually explicit content, reader suffers from poor mental health but nothing serious, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, that’s kinda it, it’s pretty soft tbh

--

The breeze is light here, broken by the gentle rise of the sand dunes behind you. It runs over your skin like water, a warm current that lasts long after the sun slips below the horizon line.

You sit for hours watching it, the tail of pinks and oranges and ochres that reflect thickly on the top of the water, the shallow crests of low tide. There’s a pull in your heart, a twitch at your fingers. The you a year ago would’ve had her paints out already, an easel with legs precariously shoved in the dry sand. The you a year ago would have been tossing up whether cadmium yellow or cadmium orange would suit the last slip of sun above the water, and whether you should wait til it was gone entirely to save making the decision.

Then again, the you a year ago would never have needed to come here.

The you today just waits, silently, you don’t even know what for. You’d been told this was a getaway. That you just needed some time to recover your muse, or some bullshit like that. But the more time you sit in silence and watch the sky blacken to navy and the stars prick the darkness with dazzling clarity, you think your therapist was wrong. How was this a getaway when all your problems were still festering inside you?

“Oh my god, Y/n L/n?”

You groan and sink back into the sand, head cushioned on the warm piles. Just your fucking luck. “You’ve got the wrong person,” you call out with eyes squeezed shut, praying the stranger will leave you alone. The last thing you needed was a green reporter or psycho fan to spill your location to the rest of the world. You can only imagine the headline. Disgraced painter Y/n L/n found hiding away on a tropical island eight months after she ruined the Met Gala.

“Oh my god, it is you! I’m a massive fan, wow!”

Fuck. At least there was a chance they’d keep quiet. You crack open an eye, staring up at the figure beside you, cast in shadow. From the glint of moonlight, you can see a crown of ruffled hair that’s a faded teal. It reminds you of the impressionist painting of a mountain lake that threw your work into the public eye. Just as faded as the dye on his hair, that time feels worn and aged, like from another life. A reminder of how far you’d fallen. “Look,” you confess lowly to the silhouette, “I just wanna be left alone, I’m not- I’m just here for a break from...everything.”

The figure shifts his weight in the sand, raising an arm to scratch at the back of his neck shyly. “I don’t mean to disturb you,” he apologises. With the slight breeze, his baggy clothes buffet around his lean figure and in the darkness he looks like some vengeful angel, towering over you with the moon behind him. But his voice is so soft, so genuine, so- so warm. Perhaps not vengeful, then, but definitely an angel. “You’re a hero of mine, I wanted to thank you for how much you’ve inspired me, saved me. Gosh, it’s crazy that you’re even here, I-”

“I’m sorry,” you force out, sitting up, wincing as grains of sand work their way down the nape of your neck, “really, I am. But I’m not the person you’re thinking of. Not anymore, at least.” You hate the way your voice rings out so thinly in the night air, nothing like the deep honey of his. You hate the way you sound broken.

He senses it too; he takes a step back, turns towards the dunes. “I should be going, I guess,” he murmurs. “For what it’s worth, I hope I see you around. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You don’t respond, wrapping your arms around your hunched knees and staring at the silver ocean until you can no longer see him in your peripheral vision.

—

It’s over a week before you see him again. Though you’d never admit it to anyone, you keep an eye out for the boy with the teal hair. There wasn’t enough light that day to make out his face but still, with hardly any people for miles, you hadn’t anticipated he’d be all that difficult to find.

Truth be told, there had been a deep curl of regret and dissatisfaction that took root inside you shortly after you left. He was just trying to be nice, and you could use a friend. Could use someone.

You had asked for privacy when your therapist began recommending a break, a getaway, but you hadn’t expected it to this degree. The place you were staying at was a rundown bungalow just behind the dunes, tucked away in a sliver of land where sand met forest, rising up into hills. The only people you saw were the employees that ran it: a maid that stopped by every day at 1pm, even though you had already made the bed and cleaned up after yourself; an older gentleman that delivered you fresh groceries every couple of days in his ancient-looking four wheel drive; and finally, the electrician you’d had to call out a few nights prior after the power went out.

The mysterious fan hadn’t been dressed like an employee; then again, it was long past the workday when he’d approached you. Mulishly, you find yourself lugging a picnic blanket and a pillow down to the beachfront every evening, monitoring every inch of the coastline that stretches around this edge of the peninsula.

It’s only on the ninth night, when you’re folding up your rough blanket with a disappointed grumble, that a sudden yap catches your attention. You whirl around, toes sinking deeper into the light sand, and gasp as a familiar silhouette approaches, stumbling down a sand dune to your left.

He hasn’t seen you yet; so focused on the tiny fluffball that tugs restlessly at its leash. It’s a lot earlier tonight than the last time you’d seen him, and there’s enough remnants of sunlight in the sky to cast him in a warm golden glow.

He’s in baggy clothes like last time, a long-sleeved white t-shirt with a v in the center, unbuttoned and sagging over the shoulder of the arm that’s getting yanked along, and some tan linen shorts. It’s hard to tell with how he sinks to his ankles in sand with every step, but he’s barefoot, almost sliding down the steep dune more so than walking.

You can’t hear him at this distance, but his lips are moving, parted in a boxy grin as he responds to the constant yipping of the tiny dog at his feet. He’s gorgeous, tanned skin to fit the honey of his voice - the voice you’ve been unable to shake from your head - and the roots of his hair are the colour of brown sugar, lightening into the dyed teal ends, whipping over his cheeks and neck in the seabreeze.

He turns off when he reaches the base, following his dog, who pulls in your direction, short bursts of energy that get cut off by the length of the leash. Your heart jumps, and you find yourself waiting in anticipation, breath caught in your throat.

But the moment he glances up and sees you, he halts in his tracks. Stepping back, his smile falls, bowing his head to you apologetically and pulling on the leash so that the small black-and-tan puppy at his feet turns around with him.

They start walking away from you, and you don't have time to think before you're calling out to him, jogging over with your blanket and pillow forgotten behind you.

He stops walking, though he doesn't turn, and when you finally come to a stop beside him, he keeps his head down.

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday," you rush out, slightly out of breath, "I was in a really shitty mood, and I had kinda come here to get away from...everything in the first place. I wasn't expecting a fan, and I reacted badly. I'm sorry."

Even after standing still, you can't seem to catch your breath. You haven't seen him this close, in this much detail, and it makes the air catch in your lungs. His eyes are an intense burnt umber, dancing over your face with an unreadable depth to them. He's taller than you, but not bulky. Though his shoulders are wide, he's lean, with a narrow nose and soft cheeks. The wind plays with the ends of his hair, revealing glimpses of a strong brow. He's beautiful.

"I didn't mean to bother you," he says after a moment, and you almost jump at the timbre of his voice so close to you, "I should be the one apologising. I'll leave you alone, honestly. I can find another place to go for a walk, or go at a different time-"

"Do you walk here a lot at this time?" you interrupt, the euphoria of finally holding a conversation after so long loosening your tongue. "You haven't been back since that night."

He tips his head to the side, shoulder jerking when his dog impatiently tugs at the leash, quiet snuffles and yips of disapproval ignored in the air between you. There's a flicker of something in his eyes - surprise? Amusement? "You were looking for me?"

"I-" Your voice fails you, and you realise how pathetic you must look. Your shoulders sink. "I was... I wanted to apologise," you land on finally.

That strange flicker in his eyes settles into a grateful warmth. "I normally do, yeah, but I had to go back to the mainland to pick up this guy." With a genuine smile, he glances down to the ball of fluff that's now lying over his bare foot. "I stayed there while he got his first lot of vaccinations. You can pat him, if you want."

You can recognise that offer for what it really is; an olive branch. In other words, he's apparently not holding a grudge against you for being an asshole. You smile gratefully, crouching down to pat the tiny animal. "What's his name?"

"Yeontan," he answers cheerily. "he's nine weeks old!"

You coo, chuckling at the soft fur wriggling beneath your fingertips, at the wet nose prodding at your palm for more pats. "Yeontan..." you muse. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

You hear a sheepish laugh from above. "Your, um, your painting of the old barn in Icheon? There's a kennel that's beside it in shadow, but you can just make out the name Yeontan painted on the front. I-" He breaks off awkwardly, falling silent.

Your hand freezes, and you feel yourself slump from a crouch to sitting fully on the sand, still hot from the afternoon sun. Yeontan. A detail you couldn't even remember painting, yet he'd named his dog after it. The dog continues to cover your hands in slobber and stray fur, but you just stare at it blankly.

"I'm sorry," the man winces, tone low with defeat. "You probably think it's stupid. I swear I'm not one of those crazy obsessed fans! There was just..." His voice changes then, closes up to cut off any emotion. "I shouldn't say. Sorry."

Your shoulders slacken. "You don't have to keep apologising," you say softly. After a moment's thought, you push up off the sand to stand up again, grains clinging to the skin that's damp from the dog's affections. The handsome stranger's face is stricken, reluctant as he watches you get up. You miss the boxy smile he'd held when he made his way down the dunes. You wonder if he'll ever smile that way at you. "I wanna hear. What you have to say."

Hand flexing on the leash, he looks down at Yeontan and back up at you, eyes squinted slightly as the sun glares onto his face; a radiant, sharp orange. "One of the reasons I'm such a fan of your work is the emotion you can actually see on the canvas. I don't even know how to explain it, but I feel it. And with the Icheon barn painting - I actually saved up for years to buy the original - there's something so sad and lonely about that kennel, that patch of shadow. The rest of the scene is so bright and open, it feels like a party that the kennel wasn't invited to. I don't know, it's stupid. But I thought if I ever bought a dog, I'd name it Yeontan so that it wouldn't feel so alone." He faces the horizon as he speaks, wincing into the light, and a broken laugh bubbles out of his throat once he's done. "Like I said; it's stupid."

But you don't think it's stupid at all. "Did it work?" you ask instead, nose prickling as tears build behind your eyes. The more he spoke, the more you remember the painting. It was your last work before the Met Gala disaster, and after everything went down in flames, desperate online tabloids went back to it, citing it as a 'cry for help'. You hadn't really painted it like that though, not really. You'd seen that beautifully painted barn in the countryside when you were driving between cities to visit your parents, and was taken by the dilapidated dog kennel tucked just beside it. Painting it wasn't some sort of clue to your nosedive, but more like a solidarity with that kennel, the dog that once lived there. The story that had been forgotten. And to hear this man had seen it, had wanted to ease the suffering just like you had... The emotions inside you, ones that had felt so dull and monochrome, now churn inside you in indecipherable technicolour, too many to count. But you think one of them might just be hope. "Did- did getting Yeontan work?"

He's looking at you now. He stays silent for a moment, the softest smile tugging at your lips, and it takes your breath away, watching the colours of sunset play across his skin while his brown eyes seek yours out intensely. "Yeah, it did," he answers eventually, his voice almost a whisper. It's only once he starts speaking that you realise the two of you have moved closer inwards without realising, so that it would only take a half step forward to be pressed against him. "But I think talking with you has helped more."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. The whirlpool inside you settles, leaving you feeling lighter than you have in years. You don't know what it is about this man that makes you feel...sane again, but you want more of it. "I think talking with you has helped me too," you confess, voice lilting in uncertainty. "Can... can I see you again? I don't even know your name, but-"

"Taehyung," he answers immediately, and even with the fall of night, the sun well and truly gone, his eyes are bright. "I could come back tomorrow?"

Your toes flex in the sand fighting the urge to jump in relief. "Yes! Yes, I'd like that," you chime, a smile tugging at your lips. "It was nice to meet you, Taehyung."

"The pleasure is all mine."

--

You sleep well that night. You can’t remember the last time the peaceful rays of sun have woken you so gently, but you certainly aren’t complaining.

You’d spent the past week or so moping in your cabin until late afternoon and then moping on the beach. Only now, after finally meeting the boy again - Taehyung - you realise how much you’ve been wasting your time buried in your own thoughts. Now all you want to do is explore. You’d been told on the ferry over here that the island was only a few hours’ walk around the coastline, and that your cabin, a street of shops and a small village of houses were the only signs of life. No bar to drown your sorrows at. No club for finding faceless strangers to make you forget who you were for a few hours. All your coping vices had been replaced with open stretches of nature in all its colours; the cool grey rocky beaches on the southern shore, the lush greens of the hilly forests, the glinting turquoise of the sea, and open plains of pastel sky for miles and miles.

The walk isn’t particularly intensive, but it’s long, and your feet ache in their sandals by the time you reach the docks again, having marked a full loop around the island. The dock, empty this late in the morning, leads directly to the main street via a cobblestone path that weaves between dunes, flax bushes, fields and a skinny stretch of trees, and you follow it to the center of the island, resting in a small cafe.

There’s no free WiFi here, so you sip at a tall glass of homemade strawberry lemonade and watch the streets through the storefront window. From your seat, you can see the people wander back and forth, the odd few with kids, but almost all are retirement age. Slow-moving couples with walkers and canes, elderly men jangling the keys to their vintage cars (that surely didn’t have much road to drive on), women with age-spotted skin and heavy beaded jewellery.

You can’t work out how Taehyung fits in this picture. It’s almost impossible to picture him walking down the same street as everyone else; his dyed hair, clothes two sizes too big, tall and slender frame hurrying down with a dog leash in one hand and a grocery bag in the other-

Wait.

You straighten up, eyes widening as you watch the man himself pauses to let Yeontan cock his leg on a patch of grass by the intersection. Physically, he’s entirely incongruous with the rest of the villagers, but he looks entirely at home, glancing up to smile in recognition at every figure that passes by him. One goes so far as to reach up and ruffle his hair playfully as she talks, and his face brightens with crinkled eyes and a boxy grin, greeting her warmly.

The same feeling of longing and dissatisfaction stirs you from the other time you saw that smile. You want to be the one that makes him so happy. You frown, unconsciously chewing on the end of the paper straw. It’s too hot in here. There’s not enough ventilation, and with the sun streaming in, the heat just pools inside, sticking to your thighs and arms. That’s why you leave the cafe before finishing your drink. The heat.

The lady has left by the time you cross the street, and you fake a cough noisily as you pass him, eyes cast away but face turned so he’d easily recognise you.

“Y/n!” Your heart warms, keens at the calling of your name, and you turn to him, smiling broadly. Taehyung grins when Yeontan rushes over to greet you too, whole body rocking with the force of his tail wagging. “Fancy seeing you here,” he remarks, and you take in a deep breath of air, feeling lightheaded with his attention back on you.

“I decided to explore a bit,” you answer, eyes dropping down to the supermarket bag in his hands, white plastic taut and digging red lines into his palm with the weight of it. “Retail therapy?”

He laughs goodnaturedly, but there’s a flush of pink high on his cheekbones, standing out beside the strands of green that he’s tucked behind his ears. “It’s actually, uh, something for tonight. I didn’t know if you’d- If you still-” He breaks off his stammering with another laugh, this one more self-conscious, and the pink deepens to red. “I thought you and I could paint together. I bought us some materials just in case you didn’t bring your own.” You fall silent, mouth slack and parted in surprise, so he continues on, lifting up his hand for a moment, bag rustling, then changing his mind and letting it fall again. “There isn’t a proper art supplies store here, so it’s just from the toy store. I know you’re probably used to proper stuff, but a bad worker blames his tools, you know! Not that you would- that you’re a bad-”

“You paint?” you ask finally, ending his nervous rambling.

His whole body slackens a bit, like you’ve cut some tension from him, his head dipping down to break eye contact. “Um. I’m- learning,” he answers with an uncertain wobble to his voice.

You tilt your head to the side with an expectant smile. “That’s really cool. How long have you been studying?”

He swallows, looking up to send you a hesitant smile. “I, um, I studied the instructions on the back of a paint-by-numbers kit in the toy store. Just now.” His voice lifts at the end of each sentence like it’s a question, that same bargaining smile plastered on his face.

You let out a genuine laugh, the first one you’ve had in a while. In too long. “Is that so? I better bow down to the maestro then.”

“Hey!” he whines playfully, shoulders rocking forward like a toddler feeling sorry for himself. “I learnt everything I know so far just from your art. And did you hear that speech I gave you about The Barn at Icheon? That was pretty good, right? You have to admit, that was good.”

His hand, the one loosely holding Yeontan’s lead, reaches out to grasp gently just above your elbow as he speaks, rocking you slightly like he’s pleading for you to agree. You find a constant stream of laughter bubbling out of your throat as he does so, feeling so light in the sunny midday breeze. “Okay, okay, that was good,” you confess, “you get a point for that.”

Once your laughter subsides slowly, you find yourself looking up at him with a residual smile, the same of which is spread on his face, eyes glimmering with something fond. He waits for the air between you to fall silent, tongue slipping out just slightly to wet his lips as you hold his gaze. “Y/n,” he asks softly, your name like molten sugar on his tongue, thumb unconsciously rubbing at the sensitive skin in the crook of your arm, “will you paint with me?”

Though the thought of painting still sours inside your chest, with his skin on your skin and his smile just for you, you feel like you could do anything. There’s only one answer. “Yes, I’ll paint with you, Taehyung.”

--

Painting with Taehyung is less painting with Taehyung and more staring desolately into the middle distance as Taehyung decides to make the clouds purple, bottom lip sucked between his teeth in focus.

“Don’t overthink it,” he stresses for the millionth time, glancing over at your blank canvas, “I’m not judging you.”

But it’s not about him judging you. If it wasn’t for him, you don’t think a paintbrush would have ever found its way into your hands again, certainly not so soon. It’s just that- you feel an overwhelming burden, a historical pressure of all your mistakes before. If you put brush to canvas now and create a work of art, then was your complete mindblank for the Met Gala all for nothing? Though your therapist advised against it, you had rather become attached to the idea that you’d somehow gotten artistically injured somewhere, and that eventually you’d broken completely, irreparable. It made the constant white void easier. Your first death.

“Happy little accidents,” Taehyung says lightly, dipping heavily into orange and catching a dollop on his wide-leg jeans. Not noticing it, or not caring, he swipes the orange into the canvas in a wonky line down past the horizon line, forming the neck and body of what looks vaguely like a giraffe. “And, um, happy little- happy little trees. If you want we could turn around and face the forest?”

Though a glum cloud is settling in your stomach you flick him a soft smile. “So you watch Bob Ross too? I thought you said you learnt everything from me.”

Using the same brush, he scoops out some black, using a pinkie finger to mix the colours together inside the bristles, a murky brown. “Maybe just a little,” he admits, daubing rough patches onto the giraffe, half of them overlapping the edges of its body. There’s an endearing quality to his carefree worksmanship, and you can’t deny that his painting looks good, wonky lines and all. “But don’t worry, you’ll always be my first,” Taehyung adds, not looking at you but smirking all the same.

The double entendre isn’t missed on you, but still, as you sit on a picnic table right on the edge of the village, blank canvas in front of you, you can’t bring yourself to laugh at it. All you can see is the paint drying on the tip of Taehyung’s finger, the messy pots of basic acrylics, and the warm smile that doesn’t leave his face.

He’s having fun. How long has it been since painting has been fun for you? Annoyed, you grab the clear green plastic brush from the set, dipping it into black. Muscle memory tingles across your knuckles and down the muscles of your wrist, an instinct to hold the brush in a certain way, tap off the excess, but your frustration overrides it, and you take the paintladen brush and smear it directly across the center of the canvas, a gaping maw of glossy shadow that bulges on the lower edges, gravity pulling at the thick stripe. You go completely still once it’s done. Staring.

Taehyung looks over after a moment, watching you carefully. “Is everything alright? If you didn’t want to paint, we didn’t have to-”

“It’s terrible,” you interrupt, a frown marring your face. “I fucked it up.”

“You didn’t,” he chastises softly, pushing his canvas to the side and leaning over your shoulder. “It’s a promising start. Maybe the duck pond is black in your world.”

Your eyes slide lower, unfocused. “Maybe the whole ocean is black in my world,” you murmur.

He’s silent for a moment,  unsure what to say. “Then how will the fish see?” he asks in a light tone, bumping your shoulder gently with his, but you just let out a broken sob, tears spilling over your cheeks like they’d been triggered by his contact. Taehyung’s mouth opens in a rounded o, eyes wide, and as the dam breaks, you feel an arm find your back, rubbing soothingly, and long, warm fingers wrap around the hand that holds the brush limply, cradling it. “We can fix it, it’s okay,” he soothes in a kind whisper, “here; it’s that mailbox now, yeah? And behind it is the candy shop-” His voice cuts off while he guides your shaking hand to the green, mixing it with white in the plastic pottle to make a pale pastel. You feel the pressure of the brush in your hand shift as he moves the bristles over the canvas in a roughly rectangular shape, but you’re unseeing, crying tears that sting like turpentine into that black ocean behind your eyelids, letting him move you.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, you curled in his embrace as he quietly paints for you, commenting on each step of the process so you know what he’s doing, even with your eyes closed. At one point, your energy leaves you, and you collapse into him, pressing your cheek against the stable warmth of his chest, heartbeat audible through his thin t-shirt. He doesn’t complain, just adjusting his stance to better support you and resting his chin on your head.

“I’m sorry,” you blubber thickly at one point, tasting salt.

“You don’t have to be,” he assures, “just keep breathing. Look; let’s put some trees in, hm? One for you and one for me.”

You open your eyes with a sniffle, feeling your hand lower in his secure hold, and you twist around your head to watch him dip the filthy brush in a green which has already been tainted by white and red in places. Your eyes follow it up again, until he fearlessly swipes in the graceful branches of the fir trees which cover the highest points of the island. You look at the rest of the painting, and a disbelieving giggle bubbles out of you, a smile across your face despite everything.

Unlike the mental image you’d been plotting in your head with the narration, this square of canvas has a line of slightly leaning buildings stacked beside each other tightly, colours smearing on the borders. In the middle of the uneven grey strip of cement down the middle to mark out the road, two trees stand proud, mostly green but with bleeding patches of muddy purple and brown too. Entire drops of paint spatter and run, creating a chaotic but vivid daydream of the end of the street in front of you.

“A lot better in your head, wasn’t it?” Taehyung asks knowingly. You laugh again, the last few tears pressed out of the corners of your wet eyes. “It’s okay,” he replies easily, “it was better in my head too. But the one in our heads is boring, don’t you think? If I wanted to see the street in front of me exactly, I’d just look up. Or take a photo. But nobody can visit this place we’ve painted. It’s just here, brand new because of us. I think I like that more.”

You sit up, wiping your eyes with a tired smile. “There’s no way you learnt all that from me,” you deflect, voice still raw from crying. “But yeah. I think I like this one more too.”

“I’m glad,” he answers softly, letting go of your hand and removing his hand from your back at the same time. You suppress a shiver at the sudden absence of heat. “I’ll let this dry and hang it up right beside The Barn at Icheon.”

You laugh again, sniffing away the last dregs of self-pity. “You better not,” you warn playfully, “as semantically poignant as it is, it’s an awful paintjob.”

When Taehyung smiles, it’s bright and boxy. And it’s just for you.

--

Time passes, but not like in the real world. Out here on this island, you start counting the passage of time by how many occasions you’d met Taehyung. Then, once you’ve seen him too often to count, you let yourself lose track of time completely, remembering only the moments spent with him like vignettes on a fragile chain.

The two of you always meet in the town or on the beach, speaking about everything and nothing. One day, while waiting beside the blue metal mailbox for Yeontan to pee (though Taehyung still insisted it looked better black) you tell him of the time you accidentally turned all your clothes yellowy-green after accidentally putting an apron in the wash that had an opened sampler of chartruese in the pocket. On a rainy afternoon when you’d gotten caught in the downfall walking through the forest, Taehyung told you, while wringing out rainwater from his rumpled maroon sweater, that he was meant to be studying agricultural sciences on the mainland, but his grandmother was sick and so he bought a place nearby to care for her.

“One good thing about being on the island,” he’d chimed cheerily, dark teal and brown plastered to his cheeks and forehead, “is that property is super cheap here. My grandma paid half and I paid half, and now the one-bedroom I live in is all mine.”

“But isn’t that sad?” you’d questioned, feeling the ground turn to mud beneath your shoes. “Living on the island, I mean? You should be in a big city, partying with your friends, living life. This place is like one massive retirement village.”

Taehyung had just shrugged. “My grandma likes it. And I like living for someone else, you know? Makes me feel good.”

Long after you’d gone home, warming up by the radiator in your beachside bungalow, those words had stuck with you. You wonder if, with all this time he’s been spending with you, he’s starting to live for you, too. You wonder if maybe that’s a bad thing.

But still, time passes in this hazy, episodic way. Money continues to filter out of your bank account each week you stay, but you hadn’t worried about your finances for years now, enough successful exhibits from your productive days keeping a healthy sum.

Though he never pushes as much as last time at the picnic table, Taehyung keeps you creating. Backs of napkins, tourism pamphlets, the kids colouring sets at the local diner. No matter how scrawled or indecipherable, the soft-hearted boy compliments your work all the same, slipping the scraps into his pocket with a joking promise that he’s going to frame them. Somehow, every unthought, unplanned line of ink or lead or pigment that lights the page feels like one less needle buried deep inside your heart, one small salve to ease the burden. You don’t know if Taehyung knows it, but in all the ways that count he’s a better artist than you.

When he’s around you, the world is lusher, more vibrant. Your time alone is grey and muted; a dull beach, an empty bungalow. With him, you feel like the sky is bluer and the trees are greener. The bonfire you sit in front of now casts an intense orange glow on everything around it, including Taehyung’s hands as he deftly impales marshmallows onto a skewer.

It’s cooler at nighttime these days. At some point, you’d both exchanged sandals for sneakers, t-shirts for sweaters. Taehyung seems to fancy heavy cable knits and thick trousers even in mild weather, and you wonder if he’d still wear clothing typical of an elderly gentleman even if he was on the mainland in a modern city instead of around the older generation on the island.

Tonight, you’d tried and failed a traditional Korean barbecue over the open flame. While Taehyung had shoved his cut of pork right into the fire, ending up with a charred outside and raw inner, you’d diligently held yours above the flames, turning and turning until the muscles in your arm screamed and you had to give up and admit perhaps the meat from the local butcher was cut too thick, and that a bonfire was good for nothing more than toasted marshmallows.

“This is where it’s at, this is it,” the young man enthuses confidently, each skewer laden with four or five marshmallows, bunched together, “dessert for dinner. The way it should be.”

You’re content to sit back and let him work excitedly, wrapping the edges of the picnic blanket low over your shoulders and lap. Though Taehyung is always devastatingly handsome, he’s the most gorgeous like this: focused in his element and surrounded by all the colours and textures of nature, a painting come to life. The heat of the flames is curling his hair lightly, making teal ends flick at his temples and the nape of his neck. His hair was growing out steadily, but still he chose not to cut it, and you can’t deny the length suits him.

“There’s more brown than green now,” you mention softly. “Soon it’ll look like dip-dye.”

Taehyung glances back at you over his shoulder with a rougish grin, shuffling around so he faces you fully. “What; is this your way of saying it looks bad?”

“No,” you defend with a pout, reaching for the near-full packet of marshmallows. “I’m just curious if you’re gonna leave it like that.”

Taehyung hums like he doesn’t fully believe you, and he leans over to shove his hand in the packet at the same time that you’re rummaging for the soft sweets, your knuckles brushing together. You shiver at the contact. Somehow, that’s been the first time you’ve shared skin contact since that day at the picnic table. Wide-eyed, you wait til he’s grabbed a bunch and pull your own hand away, empty and white with powder.

“Sorry,” he adds reflexively, but you just shake your head. How are you supposed to tell him that you liked the feeling of his skin on yours? Taehyung pops a pink marshmallow into his left cheek, letting it bulge and slur his speech as he gives you a broad grin. “You could dye it for me! My hair, I mean. Pick a colour.”

Against your will, you smile back, cheeks puffing at the thought. “I have no idea how to dye hair, Tae.”

Something flickers in his eyes when you say that, or maybe it’s the dancing flames reflected in them. He chews quickly, swallowing with a jerk of his jaw, and licks the rest of the white powder off his lips. “I bet it’s a whole lot easier than painting a picture.”

You scoff, but there’s no bite to it. “Oh, so you didn’t want me to paint one of my works on your hair, then? Don’t fancy Jeju Dusk on your scalp?”

Taehyung grins at the name, recognising the title of one of your earlier paintings - one that had been relentlessly criticised for its blending of techniques, something that later became your signature. “That’s my second favorite piece, you know? I have a print of it at home, and I saw the original in the Leeum Museum last year.”

You remember the director of the Leeum fondly. In your beginning years, he’d fought for your works to be shown in some of the frequent exhibitions they held. Even though you’d barely made a name for yourself, and had only recently moved to Seoul, Director Kim Namjoon took you in like a mentee and gave you a job himself as his PA. The experience you’d gotten there, as well as that vital exposure, had kept you business-savvy throughout your career, and once you were in a position to give back, you donated almost all of your original canvases to the museum in his name. Maybe one day you’d return home to Seoul and tell Namjoon of the boy who lived on a faraway island, the boy who taught you to open up again. Would Taehyung still be with you then? Though it hasn’t been long, it’s hard to comprehend a life without Taehyung. All you can visualise is a great absence, a lack. You banish the thought from your mind with a shake of your head, glancing back up to see the boy himself boldly setting a skewer of marshmallows on fire in the orange heat. “I hope that’s your one,” you joke weakly as he puffs out the blue and orange that lick at the blackening lumps.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my favorite work is?” he asks instead, ignoring your statement.

You stay silent for a moment, observing the way he discards the charred skewer in his lap and delicately toasts the other one, swivelling the base so that each side of the marshmallow stack warms to a golden brown. Once he pulls it out, he hands it to you with an expectant quirk of his brow. You take the stick with a slightly suspicious smile. “What’s your favorite, Taehyung?”

“Your next one,” he answers immediately, gaze locked on yours.

You blame the heat radiating off the bonfire for the warmth in your cheeks as you suppress a smile. “Alright then,” you say decisively.

“Alright what?”

“Alright, I’ll dye your hair for you.”

He grins broadly, eyes crinkling into crescent moons as he starts eating his thoroughly-burnt marshmallows. “Tomorrow,” he announces, melted strings of pink and white pooling in the corner of his lips. “Let’s meet at the convenience store and you can pick the colour.”

You smirk at the way he devours the toasted marshmallows with childish glee. “You’ll regret that when you come out of this with highlighter orange hair.”

He chucks his leftover stick into the grocery bag you brought your supplies in, letting himself collapse backwards onto the heated sand. “I think I could pull it off,” he deflects calmly. “Just you see.”

Breath taken away by the peace on his face as he closes his eyes, your mind works dizzily, desperate to find something to keep him talking, to keep this moment between you alive. “Maybe you could get a job as air traffic control. Or a streetlight. Just you wait; it’ll be orange orange.”

Taehyung’s face warms in a lazy smile as he hums. He looks so peaceful lying there that you’re tempted to join him, but you choose instead to shuffle back from the fire so that you can see his face better. His hair’s splayed out over the sand, and you can see the warm flickers from the bonfire play over his neck, his jaw, and the tip of his nose. Taehyung’s right; orange does suit him. “I had a dream, you know. Last night.”

You feel - with the gentle breeze and the silence of the sea surrounding you - that perhaps you’re in a dream right now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” his low voice hushes, barely louder than the popping of wood on the fire. “We weren’t on the island, we were in Seoul. Your wing of the Leeum Museum.”

You laugh shallowly, not wanting to make much noise for a reason you couldn’t quite pinprick. “I don’t have a wing at the Leeum.”

“You did in my dream,” he defends resolutely, the beginnings of a boxy smile tugging at his lips. “Anyway, we were in your wing, and I remember being so confused because I didn’t recognise any of them. But you told me they were all new. They were paintings of m-” he cuts himself off a beat too late, lips pressed together.

Your heart falters, a rush of adrenaline that flows to the ends of your fingers and toes. You fight to keeo your voice steady. “Maybe it was a premonition.”

Resting on his stomach, Taehyung’s hands twitch, his fingers twisting together. His smile flattens into a tense line and his eyelids squeeze shut tightly. “I don’t wanna get my hopes up,” he admits quietly after a short pause of thought.

Looking back, you can’t remember your thought process, or where your boldness comes from. Maybe something about the way the moment felt detached from reality, a timeless bubble of the two of you that sat adjacent to your real life, separate from consequence. Maybe it was the brief glimpse of pink as he wets the inner seam of his lips. Maybe you’ve just wanted this for too long to think rationally anymore.

Whatever it is, you swallow past the dryness in your mouth, bend down, and press a kiss to his lips.

Taehyung goes completely still at first. You’re cross-legged on the sand, knees faced to his side, and when you kiss him, it’s on enough of an angle that you feel his nose brushing your cheekbone, and you can feel your hair falling down either side of your face like silken rain. He stays still, though, and you press a little harder, just for a moment, before his lack of response shatters your streak of confidence.

With a minute sigh of regret, you lift off of him, ready to sit up again and apologise profoundly. But before there’s more than a few centimeters of air between you, his hand is suddenly snaking around the nape of your neck, fingers slipping up into your hair as he pulls you back down.

When you collide again with a gasp, his mouth is parted, and his teeth scrape against your bottom lip with his urgency. Losing your balance, you throw your outside arm over him, palm plunging into the sand just beside his head, and let your upper torso rest on his his.

“Taehyung,” you sigh onto his lips, shivering when his free hand rests hotly on your waist, thumb slipping under the hem of your shirt to rub maddenly over the sensitive skin of your stomach. “Oh, Taehyung.”

His lips are sticky with the remains of the toasted marshmallows, and tentatively you seek out that sweetness, kissing deeper, letting your tongue slide over the pinkened skin. He holds you so gently, like you’re made of glass, yet his mouth on yours is pure fire, and your breath comes in little gasps, bursts of oxygen that only fan the flames higher. It takes you a few moments to realise the humming in his throat and the motion of his lips are words, so softly spoken, but once you do you slow your movements to a languid stream to better hear them.

“...so beautiful, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, I must be dreaming…” He speaks with his eyes half-lidded, like he doesn’t want to fully lose sight of you, uttering words between sweet kisses, strong hands cradling you so carefully. He presses his lips against yours one last time and moves his hand from your neck to your face, thumbing tenderly at your cheekbone. “God, I’m so lucky to be by your side,” he gasps. “And when you paint new works and attend exhibits, I’ll still be by your side.”

His words are sweet, but something about them strikes an odd note in your chest, and you pull back slightly, shaking off his hands.

He looks at you with wide eyes and swollen lips which are parted in a confused pout. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s my paintings,” you whisper disbelievingly, “isn’t it? That’s why you think you like me. You like my paintings, and you think it’s somehow the same thing.”

He frowns, shuffling back to sit up, further apart from you than you’d been all night. “No,” he says automatically, “I like you, I just… I think you’re talented, and I want to help you-”

“It’s not your place to help me,” you snap back, and Taehyung flinches. “I’m not some- some out-of-order printer that just needs some TLC to start pumping out pages again. You’re a fan, Taehyung, not a fucking therapist.”

He lets those words sit in the air until they sour, staring at you with eyes shiny and lips trembling. “I know that,” he says, voice cracking, “I know that. I just- Just because you had issues with the Met Gala exhibit doesn’t mean you have to run away and hide, you know?”

Your mouth falls open. “I… I didn’t have issues with the Met Gala, okay, Taehyung? I blanked. Every time I tried to paint something for the exhibit, it sucked. I hated it. And then, eventually, I stopped being able to paint anything at all. It was like I just- I just couldn’t. And the Director kept calling, but I couldn’t answer him because I was so fucking humiliated, and you get the day of the Met and the walls are empty because Y/n L/n is a fucking failure. So it’s not- You can’t fix me, Taehyung. I’m just broken.”

The fire spits, crackles, as it smoulders down, nothing more than hot coals that barely light the surroundings. Taehyung, face slowly darkening to shadow, doesn’t say anything. Just sits. Waits.

You sniff, looking down at your hands. “My point is, Tae-” and you scoff at yourself for using a nickname at a time like this, “You shouldn’t like me. I have nothing to give you anymore.”

Sand sticks to your bare legs when you stand, but you make no attempt to brush it off. Though it’s nearly complete darkness, you see Taehyung’s hair shift as he tips his head up to watch you. Rather than speak back, he waits in the pitch black of the extinguished bonfire and lets you go.

Later, in the unforgiving silence of your bungalow, you find yourself gravitating not towards your bed but towards your suitcase, to the small wooden chest of travel paints you had brought never expecting to use.

It’s easier to paint than to think on your regrets and mistakes, and so you let your mind go black, your palette filling with shades of brown, ochre and beige, as well as a single swatch of teal.

--

The entire next day sees you in a sleep-deprived fervour, the entire main room of your bungalow cleared out and transformed into a makeshift studio, paintings drying on emptied bookshelves, sheets of old newspaper covering the carpet covered in stray spots of colour, the kitchen bench housing your mismatched array of paints and tools.

After finishing your first painting, you’d collapsed onto your bed as the sun began to rise, too exhausted to wash the dried paint off your hands and brow. But it only took a few moments of rest before you felt yourself sinking into a glum quicksand, sucked in by all the emotions swirling in your chest. Suffocated by the sole image of Taehyung, sitting alone on the sand in the dark as you walked away.

So, you’d gotten up, fed the itch in your hands and picked up a brush once more, and let yourself be taken by the mindless haze of work, of colours and angles and perspectives, starting to paint the knuckles on one canvas while you waited for the eyes to dry on another.

Just after 10am, your housekeeper had knocked on the door, and you’d had to play sick so that she wouldn’t come inside. If they kept your deposit or charged you damages for a stray lick of paint on some surface, what did it matter?

You threw yourself so intensely into these paintings, that weren’t art so much as sighs of relief, or buoys in a churning sea. It was all too easy to let your mind latch onto the task of mixing colours, of choosing techniques, of mastering proportions. Normally, you’d work in front of a landscape, or take a photo and paint it later, wanting to get things right, but Taehyung comes to mind with startling clarity.

Soon, your bungalow fills with artworks - some painted on newspaper, or pages of a book when you run out of canvases. Vistas of those moments with him like clustered vignettes: his eyes with orange glints reflected in them from that night with the bonfire; his hands wringing his sodden sweater the day you got caught in the rain; a boxy smile, the first time he ever grinned at you like that; and finally, just as your hands begin to shake too much to hold the brush steady, a lone silhouette walking down a dune, tiny dog tugging at the leash in his hand. The memories flow in reverse, like some sort of undoing, a wish to go back in time and do things right, to be better for him, to do right by him.

When you set the brush down one final time, fingers trembling with exhaustion, it’s nearly midnight. You realise with a dull pang that you’d forgotten to go down to the township to buy Taehyung hair dye. You realise he probably wouldn’t have come down either.

Your face is stiff in places where swipes of paint have dried, and your hair is tangled, thrown up a half-hearted ponytail that keeps threatening to slip, but as you stare around the chaos of the room, at the fevered paintings of him, only him, always him, your heart knows what to do. Whether you like it or not, you can’t go back in time and start new, start fresh. But you can go forward, and you know exactly where your feet will take you.

Well, maybe not exactly, because you’ve never been to Taehyung’s house. But shoving on some sneakers and wrappin yourself up in a jacket, you figure you can find it. The island’s population was barely fifty, and all the houses were in the same sleepy neighborhood behind the main street.

It’s after knocking on exactly twenty-six doors that you realise maybe you should just ask if the stranger knew Taehyung’s address, rather than leaving when somebody unfamiliar answered the door. Shivering, even with the thick padded jacket you’re bundled in, you decide that the next house better be the last. If they didn’t know where Tae was, you could just come back and pick up where you left off tomorrow.

The street is so silent that your sneaker soles on the gravel fill the void entirely, amplified in the chilled night air. As you went on, and the moon passed the center of the sky, less and less people even opened their doors, some that did scolding you for waking them at such an hour. You’d feel bad, only your mind’s entirely locked on one single person.

The next house you reach is small, like most of them, but looks particularly well-groomed compared to most. A gleaming white postbox with the number 13B rests beside the driveway and footpath, both of which are bordered by lush, freshly-mowed grass, almost black in the darkness. Like a beacon, a single lamplight shines white-yellow above the front door, and your eyes ache with the warm brightness as you knock.

After fifteen or so seconds, you hear muffled movement inside, and straighten your back expectantly, mentally running through your speech. A light turns on behind lacy curtains to the left, and eventually a blurred silhouette approaches in the foyer, unlocking the door.

You put on your most sympathetic smile and take in a breath when it cracks, revealing an older woman in mismatching winter pyjamas. “I’m so sorry to wake you, ma’am, but I was wondering if you knew a boy called-” As your eyes search the old woman’s face, you freeze. You know those eyes. “K-Kim Taehyung?” you finish, blinking widely at the woman who somehow looks so familiar.

Rather than grumble about the time or huff, she smiles broadly, lips tugging up in a boxy smile. “Well, of course, he’s my grandson!” The smile drops, brows furrowing in concern. “Is he alright?”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, eyes widening. “I- oh my goodness, I’ve heard so much about you,” you gush, her eyes crinkling fondly at your words. “Sorry, uh- yes, Taehyung is okay, I just-” You stop yourself, trying to steady your racing heart. “Mrs. Kim, you probably don’t even know me, but I did something bad and I need to make it right with him and I just… I think I’m in love with your grandson.” The moment you finish, something in your heart settles at the sound of the words lingering in the air.

She takes her time to reply, letting the words sink into her with a thoughtful sigh. “Darling, am I right in assuming your name is Y/n?”

You swallow quickly. “Yes, that’s right.”

She nods with a fond smile, a glimmer in her eye. “Then I think there’s something you should come see.”

“Inside?” After she waves you in and guides you to slip off your shoes and step into some house slippers instead, you find yourself awkwardly following her down a homely, perfumed hallway. “By the way, I’m so sorry for waking you.”

She waves it off before you even finish your sentence, sending you a kind wink. “No bother to me, lovie. I’m just glad you didn’t wake the dog.”

“The dog?” you mumble to yourself, before halting suddenly as Mrs. Kim pauses in front of a door, hand resting on the glass knob.

“My grandson’s been visiting me more lately, you see,” she explains, turning the knob to reveal a room in complete darkness, nothing inside visible. “He had so much to tell me and so much to do, became as hyper as a boy on Christmas morning! He told me not to go in here, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You step inside on her indication, breath caught in your throat as your eyes struggle to adjust. “I don’t understand…”

“Lovie, don’t worry about whatever went wrong with you two. You love him and… Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic, but it’s clear he loves you too.” And with that, she flicks the light on and the room comes into focus.

A barn. That’s the first thing you see. A painting of a bright, sprawling barn with a tiny dilapidated kennel in its shadow, wobbly letters spelling out YEONTAN. On the wall directly across from the door rests the original painting of The Barn at Icheon, close to a meter wide and half a metre high. The question of why he’d keep this prized possession of his in a random room barely bigger than a closet dies on your tongue as you turn, seeing the other walls.

A sketch of a bird you’d seen and wanted to show him, clumsily sketched on the back of a receipt with a pen from the lady at the grocery store checkout; a smudged map of your old neighborhood in Seoul that he’d made you draw on a napkin when you were explaining to him how far away the art supply store was; a tourism pamphlet that you and Taehyung had found on a park bench, drawing little Bigfoot silhouettes on the pictures of mountains and mermaids on the beaches. Every one of these thoughtless scrawls, careless scribbles and hurried drawings are here, each one framed or mounted like in a gallery, in order of the time they were made. You turn around slowly, barely noticing Taehyung’s grandmother in the doorway, giving you a knowing look. Finally, on the last wall, the trail of pieces disappear with a final creation, a canvas.

Feeling tears gather in your eyes, you look at the black smear of a mailbox, the wonky shops, the two tall trees incongruously planted in the middle of the street. And, in the bottom right corner painted meticulously in teal, the same teal as his hair, Y/n and Taehyung.

You let out a sob, turning back to Mrs. Kim. “Thank you for showing me this,” you make out in a voice thickened with tears, “but I really need to see him. Can you please give me his address?”

With a look of warm empathy, she steps forward to clasp your shoulders gently, maternally. “He told me about what happened, luvie. He doesn’t blame you.”

Trembling, you wipe the wetness from your cheeks and sniff. “He should,” you admit sullenly, “he’s too good for me. He’s been nothing but kind and patient and caring and all I’ve done is let him down.” Something occurs to you, and you frown in confusion. “Wait… Did he stop by and tell you?”

Her hands squeeze your upper arms comfortingly before dropping them and stepping back. “Oh honey,” she coos, and your heart stops as she steps aside out of the doorway, letting another, taller figure enter the room.

“Taehyung,” you whisper in shock, but before you can even comprehend his presence, his arms are around you, pulling you against his chest in a tight hug. You feel thick layers of pressure and worry evaporate off of you with a single moment, lungs filling with the familiar scent of him, body relaxing with his chin resting on your head and his arms cradling you. For what feels like a small eternity, you let yourself be fully enveloped in him, an indescribable catharsis of finally being in his arms once more. As your tears dry on the soft flanelette of his pyjama shirt and your fingers clutch at his back, you feel a thought transform into a certainty. “I love you, Taehyung,” you confess quietly, and his whole body shudders with a sob, arms tightening around you even more.

“I love you so much,” he confesses lowly, chest rumbling against your ear as he speaks. “And please don’t ever call yourself broken. You’re not. I didn’t love the art, I loved you. Because the art is a part of you Y/n, whether it’s perfect or not.”

“Tae,” you breathe shakily, his name the only word on your lips.

A soft voice comes from the hallway, Taehyung’s grandmother quietly excusing herself to “leave the two lovebirds alone.” You barely notice, lost in the way Taehyung gently rocks you back and forth in his arms, soothing you.

“I missed you,” you hear Taehyung whisper into your hair, nuzzling his nose gently.

Though you shiver at the feeling, you let out a teary laugh. “I saw you a day ago.”

“But it wasn’t the same then,” he insists softly, and a slow breath escapes you weakly. “It’s okay; you’re here now. You-” he breaks off to swallow, and when he speaks again his voice is much quieter, paper thin. “You won’t walk away again, will you?”

You answer by tipping your head up to look him in the eyes warmly, rising onto the tips of your toes so that you can reach his mouth, pressing a kiss against it tenderly. “Never,” you answer surely, “I promise.”

When he smiles, it’s beautiful - that big, boxy grin you saw that day on the dunes, that day you agreed to paint with him, and so many times since. But it never fails to make you melt, lips automatically returning the gesture. “Now,” he announces with a bemused lilt in his voice. “As much as I love this makeout session in my grandma’s closet, it is 2am. Shall we go get some rest?”

Sleep comes quickly once you have Taehyung’s arm around you and your face in the crook of his neck, and you let it take you, knowing you’ll have time to savor the feeling of sleeping beside him for many days to come.

--

You take him home the next day.

He hadn’t ever been to the bungalow before, but now there was something you desperately wanted him to see. You hadn’t cleaned up before you’d suddenly began roaming the streets of the island, and as he stares around at the chaos, you kind of wish you had. “It’s pretty messy, but…”

“No,” he deflects, mouth parted and eyes wide in wonder, “don’t apologise, this is- wow.” He steps further into the room, stepping over discarded paint tubes, dried canvases and uncleaned brushes. He takes a moment to take in each work. Every single one of them a snapshot of him. “How- When did you do all this?”

You bite your lip, loitering in the entryway. “From when I got back that night until I decided to come looking for you.”

He furrows his brow, fingers gently skimming the top edge of the painting that rests on the easel in the center of the room, the first one you’d painted. His teal growouts, his uneven eyes, the moles dotted so intricately on his face. Your Tae. “You haven’t been able to pick up a brush in months, and then...all this?”

“This was easy,” you say with a shake of your head, “it was easy because it was you.”

He turns, then, glancing at you over his shoulder with eyes brimming with affection. “You really love me.”

A disbelieving grin stretches across your lips. “The midnight confession didn’t make it clear enough?”

“It’s not that, I- I can read it,” he explains, stepping back over to you. “The Barn at Icheon is filled with loneliness, and a lot of your other works talk about fear or curiosity or patience. But this is all love. And it’s me.”

“It’s you,” you confirm with a soft smile, “I love you, Taehyung. So much.”

His eyes light up, then, a cheeky glimmer as his hand reaches out, gripping your elbow and giving it a playful shake. “If I’m your mojo then, you should paint something else today,” he bargains, “I wanna see your genius in action. The black mailbox sadly doesn’t qualify.”

Your mouth drops open in mock outrage, shoving his chest with a whine. “That’s not fair! You said you liked it better black.” Looking around at the disaster zone of the bungalow, you sigh. “I also don’t think I have any paintable surfaces left. I missed the housekeeper so I’ll probably get a fine as it is.”

“Use me, then.”

“Haven’t I painted you enough?” you fire back, but Taehyung just shakes his head emphatically.

“Paint on me. Here,” he says, and his hands leave yours in order to find the hem of his shirt, peeling his shirt off and tossing it into a far end of the room. “A big old waterfall, right down the middle. Rock pool at the bottom.”

“Stop it!” You blush fiercely, hands coming up to cover your cheeks as your eyes feast on his chest, the smooth planes and taut skin, a beautiful golden bronze. “Taehyung…”

For the first time, he doesn't press further. Instead, his shoulders sag, teasing facade slipping. "I'm sorry, you don't have to. I'll stop."

Inexplicably, you find yourself wanting to prove you aren't fragile anymore, unbroken just as he'd insisted you were last night. "I can do it," you protest, stepping away from him to fossick for some usable brushes. "Lie down, then."

Taehyung freezes. "Uh. Yeah, yeah, okay, gimme one sec, I'll just-" With the enthusiasm of a boy having his first kiss, Taehyung hunkers down on the newspaper-covered carpet, shuffling some tools and tubes and palettes out of the way. He looks beautiful like that, chest rising and falling shakily with anticipation, warm brown eyes widened on you. "You don't have to paint a waterfall, you know," he assures hurriedly. "Whatever you do will be perfect."

Heart leaping at his words, you feel a streak of confidence deep inside you, and instead of sitting beside him, you straddle his hips with a newly-filled palette in one hand and a brush in the other. "I want you to guess," you announce from above him, eying his chest and wondering how the colours might fill the space. "Guess what I'm painting. It'll be fun!"

Taehyung's throat bobs with a harsh swallow, nodding quickly. "O-okay, yeah, let's do that," he agrees weakly.

You smile warmly, and begin dipping into a forest green, coating the tips of the bristles. Bending down, you mark a single point of green on the top of his chest, just below his collarbone. The moment the cool paint touches his skin, Taehyung shudders, eyes falling shut. "Okay?" you check. He nods again, chest heaving, and so you continue tracking colour, gradual swoops downwards. Each drag of the brush makes Taehyung's breath catch, and you watch as goosebumps break out on his bare arms.

"Feels nice," he mumbles, lips barely moving like he didn't even intend to speak.

Your lip twitches, but still you focus, topping up the brush whenever the lines became too spotty. After trailing down to just above the level of his belly button, you raise the brush again, starting a new form on the other side of his chest, this one smaller. "Any idea what it is?" you question, but Taehyung just sighs airily.

Once you're finished with the forest green, you wipe your brush off on the edge of your palette and go for a deeper shade, pressing in shadows under each swipe of green. It's once you're working on the bottom half of the second structure that you begin to feel a hardness between your legs, the point where you're straddling him. Shocked, you look up, but Taehyung's covered his eyes with the back of his hand, face turned to the side with reddened cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he croaks out once he feels you stop. "Didn't mean to."

With a fond smile, you lean down, careful not to smudge the wet paint, and gently kiss the corner of his mouth. His fingers twitch and his lips part in surprise, but he otherwise stays still. "It's okay," you soothe, "if it's any consolation, I feel the same way right now."

Like a switch is flipped, Taehyung lifts his hand and tucks his chin, looking down at where the two of you are pressed together, then back up at your face. "Seriously?"

You laugh warmly. "Taehyung, I love you and you're currently lying beneath me, half-naked, writhing every time the brush touches you. Of course I'm turned on."

His cheeks flush hotter and he bites his lip. "You can- you can keep going. Keep painting."

Obediently continuing to fill in the shadow across his stomach, you grin. "Still no guesses on what I'm painting? I'm almost done, you know."

He cranes his neck down further, but the angle prevents him from seeing much. "Some-something green? I'll be honest with you, my focus really isn't-fuck!"

You suppress a laugh as he shudders, hands reaching out to clutch at your pants. Having finished the shadow, you'd mixed a paler green to add some light points on the tops, and one of those swipes had just happened to land across the top of one of his nipples, already stiff from arousal. You continue dipping colour here and there, smirking at the paint that covers the dark brown of his right nipple.

"You tease," Taehyung complains with furrowed brows. "Fuck, that felt good. Please tell me you need to paint the other one too."

You hum in mock thought, transferring your brush to the hand with the palette so that you can reach out, swiping a thumb over the sensitive flesh. Taehyung's whole body jerks, his hips beginning to grind under you, the dull friction pulling a pleasured sigh from your lips that's blessedly drowned by his drawn-out moan. "Why the pout, Tae? This was your idea."

"Next time I'm holding the paintbrush," he promises, hips moving slowly beneath you, eyes lidded as they focus on you, "then you won't be so cocky."

His words send a hot rush of arousal through you, and you rock your hips unconsciously, swallowing a moan. "Next time," you repeat breathily, "but for now I'm almost done."

It only takes a few more touches of pale green, followed by two vertical strokes of brown, before you're putting your tools aside, and standing up off of him.

Taehyung groans in complaint when your hips leave him, his casual grey sweatpants tented and a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Where are you going?"

"Come see," you guide, tugging at his hand. "I have a mirror in my room."

He gets up, palming himself with a pout before following you down the hall, pulled along by your interlocked hands. Once in front of the mirror, Taehyung lifts his eyebrows at just how wrecked he looks. Bottom lip swollen from biting at it, hair mussed and sticking up, and a burst of green slowly drying on his torso. "It's...trees?"

"It's us," you explain softly, "like that painting we did together the first time." From beside him, you reach around to gently tap each figure, two tall fir trees, the one on his right taller than the one on his left. "One for you and one for me."

Before you can pull your arm back, his hand comes up to flatten yours against his chest, hands going cold where the paint is still wet in places.

"Tae, you'll smudge it."

"Y/n," he said slowly, head turning to look at you, eyes brimming with affection, "will you let me make love to you?"

Your breath catches, and rather than trusting your voice, you nod wordlessly.

With a deep exhale, he bends down and joins your lips with his, a hand coming up to bury itself in your hair, keeping you close. His lips are hot against yours, passionate and wanting, and your stomach warms with desire. Clumsily, your fingers find the hem of your shirt, lifting it as far as you can before you have to break apart from him, flinging it away once it clears your head.

"The bed?" Taehyung pants in the moments his mouth is free, and you nod, shucking off your jeans before getting onto the mattress in just your bra and panties. "God, you're beautiful," he chants, "how did I get so lucky?"

He slips out of his sweatpants and joins you sitting on the edge, but your eyes linger on his face, the way his eyes soften and crinkle when they meet yours. "I'm the lucky one," you reply simply.

You shiver when a large palm runs up your bare thigh, warm and grounding. "Can I go down on your first?" he asks with a pleading gaze.

You laugh weakly. "I'm definitely the lucky one." In confirmation, you lie yourself back, scooting so your head rests on the pillows.

Hand now having slid down your leg to rest over your ankle, he wraps his fingers around and lifts it off the bed delicately, your knee crooking and legs parting. Smoothly, he slips himself in the gap, lying on his stomach and letting your raised leg rest on his shoulders. With eyes heavy on you, he leans forward slowly and licks a strip over your clothed pussy, a dull kiss of friction across your clit. You groan, head lolling back, and he takes it as his initiative to continue, sucking at the juices that have dampened your panties until the whole crotch is wet, your thighs shaking slightly with your increased sensitivity.

"Tae, please," you breath out, "I wan' more."

A finger slips below the hem of your panties, just over your hipbone. "Should we take these off?" You nod with a needy whimper, lifting your hips to give him easier access.

He sits up to slide them down your legs, calmly spreading your thighs again when you get the self-conscious urge to close them. With only your bra on, you feel so vulnerable, but rather than scaring you, you feel at peace, so happy to be having this moment with Taehyung.

When he shuffles back into place again, he takes his time, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. At your needy wiggle of your hips, he chuckles and rubs soothingly at the top of your leg where it's crooked over his shoulder, finally dipping his head again to lick at you.

He starts out maddeningly light, the very tip of his tongue flicking slowly over your clit, tentatively venturing out to dip between your folds. You reach out for his hand, needing something to anchor you, and he smiles against you as he interlocks your fingers, keeping you grounded.

"So good, Tae," you encourage, moaning openly when his tongue trails lower and dips between your folds, over your entrance. "Fuck, so good."

Rather than answer verbally, Taehyung doubles his efforts and begins to speed up, lapping at your core and suckling your clit.

Every breath is a moan or a whimper, overtaken by pleasure, but you let yourself drown in it, letting Taehyung eat you out like a man starved. With one hand on your upper thigh and one entwined with yours, he's got no fingers free to play with you, but expertly he brings you to your peak with just his tongue, thrusting it inside you as his nose nudges at your clit.

When you feel your orgasm quickly approaching, your moans heighten and your back begins to arch, hips grinding against him desperately. Taehyung chuckles, the sound vibrating against you and making you shudder, and his hand slips high to press against your waist instead, holding you in place for him. Your thighs tense around him, praises and curses and his name spilling from your lips incoherently.

It's one last nibble at your clit, pulling it into his mouth and dragging his tongue over it, your vision whites out with the force of your orgasm, jerking beneath him and crying out wantonly, overcome with pleasure. He works you through it diligently, groaning as you come down from your high with weak shivers, his tongue never ceasing until you push at his head from oversensitivity.

He lets your leg down carefully, kissing his way up your bare stomach, the swells of your breasts and your throat until his lips are on yours and you can taste yourself on him, feel the ends of his hair tickling against your cheeks.

"That was incredible, Tae," you pant out, feeling boneless beneath him as he takes charge of the kiss, tugging at your lips and licking into your mouth. "I need you," he gasps, and you moan throatily when his clothed crotch grinds against your bare core, the fabric of his underwear catching on your sensitive clit. He's hard, probably painfully so, and all you want is to feel him inside you.

Desperate, your fingers slip behind you, arching your back so that you can deftly release the clasp of your bra, pulling it off hastily before reaching for his underwear. "I need you too, Tae," you plea, "please hurry."

His fingers, slightly cool from the air, slide down your stomach and between your thighs, making you jump as he slips two inside, thrusting them slowly. You're still sensitive, and his mouth falls to your ear, hushing you and pressing encouraging kisses to your temple as you whimper. "Doing so well for me," he praises, "just gotta make sure you're ready, okay?"

"O-okay," you make out, sucking in a breath when he pulls out and presses a third finger inside you, picking up his pace. Gradually, the prickling overstimulation warms into pleasure again, and you rock your hips to seek more friction, free hand coming up to wrap around his neck and shoulders, holding him close.

With no bra on, your full chest is flat against his, and as the paint dries it drags over your nipples, making you arch your back, seeking out the friction.

The warmth between your legs tightens with the extra stimulation, and your breath begins to catch, feeling another orgasm oncoming.

"Close?" Taehyung murmurs in your ear as he widens the gaps between his fingers inside you, scissoring to stretch you even more. You nod hastily, moans getting stuck in your throat, pushed out with every gasped breath. Taehyung hums in response, and you whimper when you feel his fingers slipping out of you completely. Before you can protest, the blunt head of his cock slips between your sopping folds, Taehyung running it up and down to coat himself in your slick.

"Fuck, yes, please Tae, I'm ready," you babble, legs lifting to wrap around his hips, attempting to pull him in closer.

He chuckles, but it's cut off prematurely by a hissed breath of pleasure as he lines up and begins to sink his length into you, a delicious feeling of fullness after his fingers left you so empty. Taehyung enters you slowly, letting you adjust, and you feel completely enveloped by him; his voice in your ear, his hand in yours, his cock inside you.

"Need you, Tae," you whine once he stills, bottomed out, "please move."

"Are you ready?" You wiggle your hips with a groaned yes, arm tightening around him as he pulls back. He stops when just his head still rests inside you, pauses for a moment with a moan as you clench around him, and then plunges back in with one slick thrust.

You cry out, satisfied smile stretching tiredly across your face as he finally begins a steady rhythm, favoring deeper thrusts that make your toes curl. "Yes, Tae, so good!"

"God, you're still so tight," he groans throatily, "so good for me."

On the edge before, you find yourself close after only a few minutes, and you tell him with a shaky breath. Taehyung lets out a relieved exhale as he continues to thrust into you. "Thank fuck," he huffs out, panting a word at a time, "I'm not gonna last, you drive me crazy."

You press your head against his, nuzzling at it as you unwrap your arm from around his shoulders, instead seeking out your clit for the needed friction to push you over the edge. The added stimulation has you clenching, and Taehyung swears desperately, his pace picking up but shuddering as he gets close.

The two of you pant loudly into the otherwise silent room, filling each others' ears with whimpered moans and slurred praises, until you finally catch the tip of your peak, and with one final drag of his cock inside you, you're falling apart, not suddenly and violently like the first time, but rather a slow, hot wave of pleasure that works its way out from your core, down to your toes and fingertips, clenching tightly around Taehyung until he curses and spills inside you, shuddering through his release.

"I love you so much," you whisper once you come down from your high, a contented exhaustion seeping into your bones.

"I love you too," Taehyung says with a final press of his lips on your temple.

---

"This one's gorgeous. I love the broad lines on the ocean compared to the texture of rocks on the shore. This is at the island, you say?"

You hum in confirmation, smiling at your old friend. "You should see, it, Joonie. There's this little cluster of houses and shops right in the middle but the rest is just open nature. Forests, beaches, everything in the middle. I go there every year."

Kim Namjoon, Director at the Leeum Museum in Seoul and avid nature buff, takes one last look at the landscape canvas and grins. "Ah, twist my arm..." You follow him as he moves down the line of mounted canvases, stopping at a familiar portrait. He furrows his brows and cocks his head. "I feel like I've seen this guy before, something about the face... He didn't have green in his hair though, I must be confused."

You laugh at your friend, spying a shock of red through the swathes of people. "You have seen him before," you explain, catching the figure's eye, "you would have seen him here tonight."

In front of you, Namjoon raises his brows. "Oh, really? Who is he, then?"

Over Namjoon's shoulder, you watch Taehyung approach, turning heads with his scarlet dye. He gives you a wink, and you grin back. "He's my husband."