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hamsterclaw · 15 days ago

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Legend

The man you help one day insists that he owes you everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Selkie! JK, smut, angst

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, knotting

It’s early, but you prefer walking along the beach when there are less people. The sun’s up, barely, there’s a light salty breeze blowing your hair in your face and there’s movement out of the corner of your eye.

Three men fighting over what seems to be – a fur coat?

You don’t want to get involved but two of the men are fully dressed and the other one is naked so it seems unfair that the pair are trying to take the fur coat off him.

‘Hey!’ you shout, before you can talk yourself out of it. ‘Back off!’

You wave your phone. ‘I’m calling the police!’

The two men exchange a look and shove the naked man into the sand. Then they’re off.

You approach the naked man warily. ‘Are you ok?’

He looks up at you, dark hair in his face, almost covering his eyes. He’s slim but there’s bulk to his shoulders and arms, a ridge of muscle along his abs.

He gets up suddenly, overbalances, and you take a step back so he doesn’t fall into you.

The fur coat’s back on his shoulders, you’re glad for him given, judging by his bare legs under the hem of the coat, he’s stark naked otherwise.

‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘For helping me.’

‘Don’t worry,’ you say. You smile and move past him to continue your walk.

He says, ‘I owe you everything.’

His words make you turn back, slightly nervous at the seriousness of his tone.

‘You’ve very welcome,’ you say, ‘I didn’t really do anything.’

You’re a few metres down the beach when you realise he’s trailing behind you.

‘I have to return your kindness,’ he says, when you stop dead and turn around to look him fully in the face.

Shit. What is this guy on?

‘You can return it by living your life,’ you say, nodding encouragingly. ‘Away from me.’

He considers this carefully. ‘Do you feel threatened by me?’ he asks, keeping his distance.

You eyeball him from the top of his mussed hair, to the ridiculous fur coat he’s got on in the middle of summer, to his bare feet, and can honestly say that you don’t.

‘You don’t owe me anything,’ you insist.

‘Can I try to repay you?’ he asks. He pushes his hair away from his face, like seeing more of him will change your mind.

He’s got an interesting face, wide eyes, beautiful skin, a mole under his bottom lip that draws your gaze.

You sigh. ‘Can you do yard work?’

***

Half an hour later your new acquaintance is standing beside you, regarding the mess that was your grandmother’s yard quizzically.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ you say. ‘This isn’t worth it. You’re free to go, you don’t have to help me with this.’

‘That’s not what I was thinking,’ he says. He looks at you worriedly. ‘How would you have done this alone?’

‘It would have taken me longer without your help,’ you allow.

‘Your hands are small,’ he says, critically, brows furrowed. ‘And your arms —’

‘And you’re wearing a fur coat in summer, there’s no judgement here,’ you interrupt, raising an eyebrow at him.

‘It’s a pelt,’ he tells you, huffy.

‘There’s probably something up in the loft that’ll fit you,’ you say. ‘Stay here. I’ll go up.’

When you get back down to the yard, you’re greeted by the twin mounds of his very firm buttocks.

‘Holy shit. Get some clothes on,’ you say, turning your eyes up hurriedly as he approaches you.

‘I see people on the beach wearing tiny clothes that don’t cover much more than this,’ he tells you.

‘Well you’re not on the beach, you’re in my yard. And in this house we wear clothes,’ you retort.

You shove the bundle of clothes you’ve found into his chest, and turn your back as he gets dressed.

When you look around again, thankfully, he’s decent.

Your grandfather’s clothes are a size too large but it’s probably just as well given your new friend’s penchant for getting naked at the slightest opportunity.

‘Just to be clear,’ you clarify. ‘This isn’t indentured servitude just because I helped you this morning. You can go whenever you want, ok? You don’t owe me a thing.’

‘I owe you everything,’ he says solemnly.

‘Are you even listening,’ you grumble.

You decide you’ve spent enough time arguing with him. He looks strong, and willing, and the yard isn’t going to clear itself.

He works hard, genuinely like he believes he owes you something for scaring those guys off, carrying the weeds you clear out to the bins, seemingly tireless.

By lunchtime you’ve made decent headway. You get up, ignoring the way your knees protest after kneeling in the dirt for so long, and say, ‘come in, let’s take a break.’

‘I don’t need a break,’ he tells you earnestly. ‘I’ll help you finish this.’

You furrow your brow at him. ‘We’re not carrying on unless you eat something —‘

You realise you don’t know his name.

‘Jungkook,’ he supplies helpfully, ‘of the Jeon clan.’

You stare at him. ‘I’m Y/N L/N.’

‘Clanless,’ he murmurs to himself, nodding like that explains things.

You frown. ‘We don’t have clans where I come from,’ you start, and then you close your mouth. Why are you arguing with this dude?

‘Fine, Jungkook, let’s have lunch.’

***

For someone who didn’t want to take a break, Jungkook sure seems hungry.

You watch, bemused, as he wolfs down his sandwich and salad.

‘More?’ you ask, holding out half of your own sandwich.

He accepts, and the sandwich disappears in three quick bites.

When he’s finally satiated, you go back outside and get back to work.

The sun is starting to drop when you turn to him a little awkwardly.

‘Hey, Jungkook. Thanks so much for your help today. It would have taken me ages to do this myself.’

He looks at you seriously. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this yourself.’

‘Yeah well, I’m clanless remember?’ you say, jokingly.

He shakes his head. ‘You need help.’

‘You’re not the first person to tell me that,’ you offer.

Jungkook’s unamused.

‘I’ll help you,’ he says, like that decides it.

You want to keep arguing but you’re tired, and it’s late, and he does good work.

‘I’ll be back in the morning,’ Jungkook says. He’s got redressed in his pelt, placed the folded clothes you loaned him neatly on the porch.

You open your mouth and shut it again, and Jungkook takes this as assent.

‘Wait,’ you say, as he walks away.

He turns back to you, and there’s something about the way his profile looks in the fading light that makes your heart beat a little faster.

He’s beautiful.

‘What do you want for breakfast?’ you ask.

He turns fully to face you, eyes crinkled in a smile. ‘You don’t have to feed me. I’m the one who owes you, remember?’

‘You honestly don’t—‘

You stop talking when you realise he’s too far away to hear you anyway.

***

The next morning, you’re awakened by noises coming from the back garden. You stumble to the window and are greeted by your new friend Jungkook’s shirtless back.

His muscles ripple in the sunlight, and he’s already worked up a sweat somehow.

You lift up the sash window, and he turns at the sound.

His face lights up at the sight of you, and you’d be lying if you said the sight doesn’t make you feel a little giddy.

‘What –’

Your voice comes out as a croak, so you clear your throat and start again.

‘What do you want for breakfast?’

‘Surprise me,’ he says cheerfully.

He turns back to the thatch of brambles he’s hacking through.

‘Hey,’ you call again.

You swipe a hand over your dressing table, grab the sunscreen you apply religiously.

You toss it out the window, at his feet.

‘Put sunscreen on.’

Jungkook picks it up like he’s unaware of the concept of sun protection.

‘Can you show me how to use this?’ he asks.

He’s looking at you quizzically, all bare chest and gleaming skin, and you back away from the window before you say something you’ll live to regret.

You’ve got breakfast in the pan on your grandmother’s old Aga when Jungkook pops his head in the back door.

‘It’s hot today,’ he says.

‘You look hot,’ you agree.

Then you realise what you’ve said.

Thankfully, Jungkook seems to have missed it completely, walking into your kitchen, looking around curiously.

He stops in front of a painting on the wall of a lighthouse by the sea.

‘This looks like it was painted around here,’ he says. ‘I’ve been past this lighthouse.’

‘Would you like the painting?’ you offer.

At his surprised look, you hasten to explain.

‘I live in the city. I came here because I inherited this house from my grandmother after she died.’

You wave a hand. ‘I’ve got to pack up her things, get rid of what I can, and then sell this place.’

‘If you like the painting then please take it,’ you say. ‘It’s got no sentimental value to it.’’

‘I don’t have a lot of things,’ Jungkook replies.

He watches as you serve up two plates, lay the table.

He takes a seat opposite you.

There’s silence for a bit as you both eat, then Jungkook asks, ‘Isn’t there someone who can help you? It seems a big job.’

‘My parents live abroad,’ you tell him. ‘I don’t have any siblings. Just me.’

‘Your mate?’ Jungkook suggests, around a mouthful of eggs.

You nearly choke on your coffee. ‘I don’t have a – mate, at least not in the sense you mean. I have friends, and they’re stopping by in a few weeks.’

You shrug. ‘It’s quite a personal job. I want to make sure my grandmother’s things are handled properly.’

You look out the window. Sitting, like this, you can’t see the sea, but if you were to stand, you could see the ocean from every window of this cottage.

‘I used to spend my summers here, with her,’ you tell Jungkook.

‘I’ve lived here my whole life,’ Jungkook says.

You exchange a smile.

‘I can help you, with anything you want,’ Jungkook tells you earnestly.

You look at him for a long moment. ‘I can pay you.’

Jungkook almost looks offended. ‘I told you I owe you for helping me,’ he insists.

‘You don’t owe me a thing.’

‘I owe you everything,’ he says again, so firmly you don’t have the heart to argue it.

You get up. ‘I need to stop by the store and get more supplies this morning.’

Jungkook says, ‘I can get the brambles cleared today.’

You hesitate, then decide to ask. ‘Do you want anything from the store? Is there anything you like to eat?’

Jungkook’s smile is shy, a contrast from the fact that he’s parading around shirtless.

‘I eat anything,’ he tells you, but you get the sense he appreciates that you asked.

He’s turning to go back into your garden when you stop him.

‘You should put sun protection on,’ you tell him.

You squeeze sunscreen onto your palm, show him how to rub it in.

‘On my back, too?’ Jungkook asks, once he’s covered his face.

You look at him carefully, trying to gauge how serious he is.

‘Yes, on your chest too.’

Your voice comes out unusually high-pitched, and Jungkook gives you a funny look as he rubs suncreen into his chest.

You’re trying not to stare at him, acting like it’s the first time you’ve noticed the glorious sea view outside.

‘Can you help me with my back?’ Jungkook asks.

‘Sure,’ you say, gulping a little.

You dot sunscreen on your palm, start rubbing it into his shoulders. His defined back muscles flex under your hands as you rub more cream in.

Jungkook looks down at the waistband of your grandfather’s shorts thoughtfully, and you toss the sunscreen on the table, grab the keys hurriedly.

‘I’ll get you a hat, too,’ you call as you practically run out the front door.

‘See you later Jungkook!’

***

The line at the store’s longer than you expected, you’re looking around for the shortest queue when you spot him.

‘Y/N!’

‘Namjoon!’

You step into Namjoon’s hug. He’s always been taller than you but in recent years his build has filled out. You can barely get your arms around him now.

‘I heard you were back,’ he says, smiling at you, friendly. Just for a moment, a shadow crosses his face.

‘I’m sorry about your grandma,’ he says.

‘Thank you,’ you reply. You pull your arms down, clasp your hands awkwardly together.

‘I’m clearing out her old things,’ you tell him.

‘Need a hand?’

‘I’ve got someone helping me,’ you say.

Seeing the change in Namjoon’s expression, you hasten to explain.

‘I met him yesterday,’ you say. ‘Some guys were hassling him on the beach. He was grateful so he’s helping me clear out the yard.’

Namjoon frowns. He’s one of your childhood friends, you used to look forward to seeing him in the summer.

‘Is he an ok guy?’

‘He seems perfectly nice,’ you say. ‘He doesnt seem like a creep or anything.’

‘Well, you can always call me if you need anything, ok? Maybe we can grab dinner one of these days.’

‘I’d like that,’ you say.

Namjoon dimples at you. ‘Maybe this weekend?’

‘Sure,’ you agree.

You pay for your things, load up your car and, on impulse, pick up ice cream for you and Jungkook on the way back.

You’re holding your cups of ice-cream carefully, walking around the side of the house to the back, when you hear voices.

You feel a twinge of alarm as you round the corner to see Jungkook and another man you don’t know having what seems to be a heated conversation.

‘Jungkook?’ you call.

The man you don’t know turns and gives you a long look.

It doesn’t seem friendly.

You’re suddenly aware that you don’t know Jungkook well, you don’t know this man at all, and your nearest neighbour is over a mile away.

Jungkook steps forward, like he senses your apprehension. ‘This is Jimin,’ he tells you. ‘He’s part of my clan.’

Jimin gives you another searching look, but he eventually says, ‘Hi.’

Alarm bells are going off in your head.

You take a step back.

‘My friend Namjoon’s coming over,’ you tell Jungkook and Jimin.

It’s a complete lie, but it’s all you have.

Jungkook says, very gently, ‘Jimin’s leaving. He just came to see where I was.’

You take another step back, ice-cream forgotten.

‘Sure,’ you say. You’re trying your best to sound normal, past the rising panic.

You turn and head back to your car.

It’s only after the car door is closed behind you that you finally feel like you can draw a breath.

The rapping on the window makes you scream.

It takes you a moment to realise it’s Jungkook, another moment to notice that he’s chosen the passenger seat window to knock on even though you’re in the driver’s seat.

Like he wanted to give you distance.

You lower the window.

‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he starts, and he sounds so genuinely upset about it that it goes a long way towards assuaging your fears.

‘No, I —‘

You sigh and give up on protesting when you realise it was pretty obvious you were uneasy.

‘It’s ok, Jungkook.’

He says, hesitantly, ‘I want to stay and help you, but if me being here is making you uncomfortable, I’ll go.’

You don’t know how to make this decision now that the ball’s in your court.

So you postpone it, like you’ve done with so many other decisions in your life.

You unlock the car doors.

‘Do you want ice cream?’

***

Jungkook, it turns out, likes ice cream quite a lot. Somehow, you’re not surprised.

He’s scraping the sides of the cup like he wants to get every single lump, so you pass him your half-eaten ice cream.

He accepts immediately, wide-eyed and so thrilled that it amuses you.

It’s hard to imagine him ever hurting anyone.

‘What’s your favourite flavour?’ you ask.

‘All of them,’ he replies, chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh.

‘I’m sorry about Jimin,’ Jungkook says.

He’s not looking at you now, swirling his tiny neon spoon in his cup.

‘He’s scary when he’s angry, even though he’s so small.’

He hadn’t seemed small to you, although you guess Jungkook’s bigger.

‘What’s he mad about?’ you ask.

‘He doesn’t trust people,’ Jungkook answers. He glances at you. ‘He thought maybe you were forcing me to help you.’

You snort. ‘How?’

Jungkook doesn’t answer for a moment.

‘Your grandfather,’ he says, changing the subject. ‘There aren’t many photos of him.’

‘He left my grandmother,’ you say.

In all honesty, you don’t know much more than that. It had all happened when you were very young, your mother hadn’t told you anything about it, and your grandmother had always refused to discuss it.

Jungkook reaches out, fiddles with the dial on the car radio.

‘We should bring the groceries in,’ you say, remembering.

‘I’ll carry them,’ Jungkook insists.

He looks affronted when you try to take a bag off him.

‘I’m much stronger than you,’ he says, huffy.

‘Fine. Carry it all then. Can you make lunch too?’

***

You end up fixing lunch for you and Jungkook with leftovers and deli meat. You sit on the swing on your grandmother’s porch as you eat.

It’s a hot day, you’re grateful for the light breeze even though it’s barely making the leaves rustle.

Jungkook glances at you as he takes a swig of water, and you hold his gaze.

‘I’ve got some guys coming to collect the clippings and yard trash next week,’ you say. ‘Think we’ll be done by then?’

Jungkook nods, earnestly. ‘We should be.’

‘Do you have another job or something? Don’t feel obliged to stay, like I said you’ve helped me so much already.’

Jungkook says, firmly, ‘I owe you a debt, please let me pay it.’

You search his face. ‘How will I know when the debt is paid?’

‘I’ll know,’ Jungkook says. He seems unconcerned, sure of himself. ‘I’ll know, and I’ll take my leave then.’

‘What if I get sick of you before then?’ you ask, teasing.

‘Unlikely,’ Jungkook says, confident. ‘I’m well-liked.’

You frown a little as you mull this over, only to catch him watching you, a spark of mischief in his eye.

‘Are you fucking with me?’

Jungkook blinks. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He’s all round-eyed innocence as you look at him suspiciously.

Finally you get up. ‘Come on, we’d better carry on, then.’

***

You’re up in the loft, trying not to feel overwhelmed at the sheer amount of things around you.

The trappings of a lifetime.

You pick up the item closest to you, a small wooden box with a mother of pearl inlay on the lid.

Inside, there’s a pretty champagne pearl set on a thin gold chain.

You smooth the pad of your thumb over the pearl, admiring the way it gleams even in the gloom of the loft. You put the necklace around your neck, set the box aside, and reach for the next thing.

In the next few hours, you sort old clothes, separate items into charity and junk piles and start bringing things down.

You’re three steps from the bottom of the folding ladder when you lose your balance.

You don’t have time to make any sound when you’re steadied by strong arms.

‘Easy, I’ve got you,’ says Jungkook.

He helps you down the last few steps, takes the armful of clothes off you.

‘Thanks,’ you say, gratefully.

‘I’ll bring things down,’ Jungkook says. ‘Is there a lot up there?’

‘We can take turns,’ you say. ‘There’s a lot.’

Jungkook mutters something about human materialism which you don’t quite understand but you’re distracted by the way he looks.

His neck is stretched, the line of his jaw sharp as he peers up the steps. His profile is beautiful.

He looks back at you, catches you staring at him.

‘I did tell you, didn’t I, that I was well-liked?’ he says, a twinkle in his eye.

He’s definitely fucking with you.

You say, casual, ‘you did mention that.’

Your eyes meet.

Then his gaze drops to the pearl necklace you have on.

‘Was that your grandmother’s?’ he asks.

He reaches out, hesitates, then, when you nod, lifts the pendant gently.

‘It’s a natural pearl,’ he says, something like awe in his voice. ‘These are very rare.’

‘My grandmother loved the sea,’ you say, your voice dropped to a whisper, you’re not sure why.

Jungkook looks down at you. Like this, he’s so close you can see a tiny beauty mark on his lower lip, a small scar on his cheek.

Imperfections that only make him seem more perfect.

He’s not touching you at all, but you can feel the warmth he radiates.

For the first time, you notice he smells faintly like the sea.

You like it.

Jungkook’s gaze is so intense you have to look away.

He lets go of your necklace, and takes a step back.

You try not to feel disappointed.

‘I need to go,’ Jungkook says. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’

‘Sure,’ you say, too quickly, with a nervousness you can’t explain.

He turns, descends the stairs.

You push the fold up ladder to the loft up, re-fasten the catch, trying to calm your fluttering heart.

‘Hey,’ Jungkook says.

He’s climbed back up, is holding out his pelt to you.

‘Can you keep this for me until tomorrow?’

‘Sure,’ you say, lifting your arms out for it.

It’s heavier than you expected.

‘I’ll keep it somewhere safe,’ you reassure him.

Jungkook says, ‘I know you will.’

He smiles at you, and jogs back downstairs. He stops at the foot of the stairs, waves, and then he’s off.

***

You’re not sure what to do with Jungkook’s pelt when you go to bed but you know it’s important to him, so you end up laying it at the foot of your bed.

It’s hot and sticky tonight, the air ruffling the thin gauzy curtains isn’t providing any respite.

There’s a knot, low down in your groin, a neediness between your legs.

Unbidden, Jungkook’s face floats into your head.

His pretty eyes. The way his jaw clenches whenever he catches you doing something that he thinks should be his job.

The feel of his arms caging you in when he stopped you from falling down the steps earlier.

You look down at your body. Your nipples are hard, pressing against the gossamer thin cotton of your sleep tank. You run a hand over your breasts, pinch restlessly at a nipple.

Your moan sounds obscene in the quiet of your room.

Your cunt tightens, and you slide a hand between your legs for relief.

The pads of your fingers press against your swollen bud, and you moan again.

Jungkook’s naked back, muscles glistening with sweat.

The feel of his bare, sun-warmed skin under your fingers.

You’re breathing faster now, bucking your hips into your own hand as you press two fingers into your warmth.

You imagine Jungkook’s hands inside you instead of your own.

His smirk when he told you he was ‘well-liked’.

You don’t doubt it.

Your need builds as you touch yourself, legs splayed, toes pointed.

Your foot touches Jungkook’s pelt, and you sit up, breasts heaving, nipples pointed, hard.

You reach down for Jungkook’s pelt, bring it up to your face, and inhale.

It smells like him.

You pull it to your chest as you finger yourself, and the friction of it on your sensitive nipples tips you over the edge.

You come with a whine, a gasp, gushing stickiness between your thighs, thinking of Jungkook.

***

You wake up late the next morning, the sun’s high in the sky by the time you get out of bed.

You look out the window and see Jungkook’s now familiar back in a corner of the garden.

‘Morning!’ you call before you remember exactly what you did with Jungkook’s pelt last night.

You don’t wait for a reply, leaning back from the window quickly.

Thankfully you hadn’t got any cum on his pelt.

Shit. What got into you?

You groan inwardly as you traipse to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

You run lightly down the stairs, only to skid to a stop when you see Jungkook lifting his pelt from where you put it on the couch before you went to sleep.

He’s been sniffing it.

You blink, straighten your back, and say, brightly, ‘What do you want for breakfast, Jungkook?’

You do, after all, come from a long line of women who’ve made a lifetime about not talking about things they don’t wish to talk about.

Jungkook looks at you, a little sweaty, dazed. His pupils are huge, his eyes dark.

‘Anything,’ he says. His voice has dropped to a timbre you haven’t heard before from him, low, almost a rasp.

‘Sure,’ you say, turning smartly to the kitchen.

It’s a good twenty minutes before Jungkook joins you in the kitchen.

He looks flushed, damp like he’s been splashing water on his face, but he looks more like his usual self.

You put a plate of pancakes in front of him. Your hand brushes his accidentally, and he moves his hand back like he’s been scalded.

‘Shit, sorry,’ you say, flustered by his reaction.

Unsure what else to do, you take a seat opposite him, and start eating.

After a moment, he starts eating too.

You give yourself a moment so that your voice won’t betray you and then say, ‘I’m going to be clearing out the loft again today.’

Jungkook takes a moment to reply.

‘I can help bring things down.’

‘Great. Thank you.’

You push the remaining pancakes towards him.

Jungkook clears his throat.

‘Have you, uh, done something to your hair? You look pretty.’

‘Nothing special,’ you answer.

You flick your gaze his way.

‘I’m well-liked too.’

Jungkook nearly chokes on the mouthful of pancakes he’s chewing.

He gulps down water, eyes watering.

You smile at him as you clear away your plate.

***

Jungkook grunts as he sets a box down next to you.

You’re trying hard not to notice exactly how he’s worked up a light sweat, just enough to make his skin glow and his t-shirt stick to his torso.

Jungkook lifts his arms over his head, stretches. The hem of his t-shirt lifts two inches above the waist of his jeans.

You fight the sudden urge to bite his taut skin.

Jungkook rakes a hand through his damp hair. It’s wavier today, curling around his face prettily.

You’re struck by the duality of his pretty face and his distinctly masculine body.

To hide the warmth in your cheeks, you look down into the box he’s just brought down.

There’s a stack of letters, shoved haphazardly into torn envelopes.

You pick one up and begin to read.

Dearest,

I thought of you today. When Ara gets mad, she furrows her brows and tilts her head, and she looks exactly like you.

I know we chose this life, but it doesn’t make it any less hard.

All my love, always,

Dasom

You wonder why the letter’s with your grandmother and not your grandfather, if he ever got to see it.

You pick up the next.

Dearest heart,

Your uncle stopped by today, and as you can probably guess, he didn’t have any pleasantries to share.

One day I’ll be kinder, but today is not that day.

I shooed him off with the driftwood you salvaged from the cove.

You would have been proud of me.

Look after yourself, my love, I cannot wait for when you come back to me.

All my love, always,

Dasom

You smile to yourself, amused. Your grandmother was dainty, with the petite stature of many women of her generation, and yet somehow it isn’t a stretch to imagine her shooing off a man twice her size.

Beneath the letter is a photograph, a faded black and white, of your grandparents. You smile fondly at it, at the way your grandmother’s smiling brightly at your stoic-looking grandfather.

You notice something just in the frame that gives you a jolt of recognition. At their feet, what you thought initially was a rug looks on closer inspection to be a fur skin of sorts.

It reminds you, oddly, of Jungkook’s pelt.

A shadow falls over you.

‘Are those your grandparents?’

You look up, startled, and the photograph slips from your hand.

Jungkook leans down to pick it up, looks at the photo. He blinks, frowns a little.

‘They’re my grandparents,’ you tell him.

Jungkook asks, with a new note in his voice, ‘Why is there a pelt in this photograph?’

You have no idea.

‘Was one of your grandparents a selkie?’

You blink, totally confused.

‘What’s a selkie?’

Jungkook’s examining the photo closely. ‘It looks like the pelt’s your grandfather’s size.’

‘Rewind,’ you demand. ‘What’s a selkie?’

Jungkook looks at you like he’s debating something in his head.

Finally, he says, ‘I can show you. We’ll have to walk down to the sea.’

***

It’s a glorious late summer day, you can feel your confusion and curiosity lifting as you and Jungkook walk down your grandmother’s path to the beach.

He’s got his pelt with him, slung carelessly over his shoulder.

His steps are lighter the closer you get to the sea, it’s like he feels as unburdened as you.

When you get to the water’s edge he stops, turns to you.

‘Will you wait for me?’ he asks. ‘I’m about to show you a lot, I’m worried about how you might react, so will you wait here until I come back to you?’

He’s so serious about it, you can’t protest.

‘Where are you going?’ you ask.

‘I won’t be far,’ Jungkook says. ‘But I promise, I’ll come back to you.’

He’s already slipping off his clothes, barenaked in the sun, and you avert your eyes hastily.

‘When you said you had a lot to show me—-‘ you start.

Jungkook turns his head. He smiles, more than a hint of mischief in his gaze.

‘Wait for me.’

He slips his pelt over his shoulders, and dives into the water.

He’s a strong swimmer, a few hundred yards out already.

There’s a strange tingling in your stomach, a fizzing in your veins.

You wonder if you’re about to be profoundly changed.

You can barely see him now.

Hold it.

You can’t see him at all.

Shit!

Is he caught in the current?

You take a few frantic steps out into the surf, panicked, unmindful that your entire bottom half is wet.

‘Jungkook?’

Your first shout is weak, barely carrying, lost in the crash of the surf.

You try again.

‘Jungkook?’

You take another few steps out, you’re deep enough to swim but you can’t see anything in the sea.

Your eyes sting with salt and the sun as you surface.

‘Jungkook!’

There’s a dark shape in the water, a ripple through the waves, and you scream as the shape brushes past you.

It turns, heads straight to you, and you dive into the water to swim away from it.

It follows, and every shark story you’ve ever been told jumps into your head.

You’re not as good a swimmer as Jungkook, but you did spend a lot of summers at the seaside growing up.

You head back to shore, kicking strongly, and by the time you’re knee deep you’re exhausted from the adrenaline.

You realise the creature’s followed you to the shore.

It’s not a shark at all.

It’s a seal.

It stays half submerged.

It looks like it’s looking straight at you.

Like it’s waiting for you.

Jungkook’s parting words pop into your head.

Wait for me.

You take a step closer. The seal stays where it is, facing you.

There’s something familiar about the tilt of its head.

The world rocks on its axis, and you?

You slip down into the sand in a dead faint.

***

You wake to sunlight that’s too bright, and Jungkook leaning over you.

His expression’s panicked, his eyes wide and worried.

You wince a little, raise your hand over your head to block out the light.

Jungkook’s saying your name, so you squint up at him.

‘Jungkook?’

‘Are you ok?’ His words come out rushed, urgent.

‘What happened?’

It comes back to you in a flash.

You groan and try to sit up.

Jungkook helps support you, hand flat against the small of your back.

‘Where did you go?’ you ask, a dumb question because you’re not sure if you’re ready to ask the question you really want to ask.

Jungkook says, ‘I went into the ocean, then I—-‘

He breaks off, then says, ‘Then I came back to you.’

‘There was a seal,’ you say carefully.

Jungkook just waits.

‘Jungkook, what’s a selkie?’

Jungkook smiles at you, gentle.

‘I just showed you.’

***

You’re looking out of the window of your house as Jungkook makes you tea. He’s been hovering around you like a worried mother hen since the beach, no matter how much you reassure him you’re ok.

His pelt lies beside you on the couch, thrown carelessly next to you as he rushed to fix you a drink when you got back.

You reach out gingerly and run a hand over it.

It’s warm, sleek, the short fibres bristling under your palm when you brush the wrong way.

How had you not recognised it as sealskin before?

Jungkook comes back, carefully holding a mug. He sees you touching his pelt, and you pull your hand away.

‘I don’t mind, if you touch it,’ he assures you.

You say, ‘I like how it feels.’

You sip the tea Jungkook’s just given you.

‘Tell me about selkies,’ you say.

Jungkook sits next to you on the couch. ‘I have a clan. Jimin, whom you met the other day, is part of it.’

‘We mostly live close to the sea. We can take either form—‘

At your expression, he clarifies, ‘I can be seal, or human.’

‘And the pelt?’

‘It’s part of my seal form,’ Jungkook tells you.

You have more to ask about his pelt, but Jungkook changes the subject.

‘Your grandfather was selkie,’ he says.

‘Is that common?’ you ask. ‘That selkies marry humans?’

‘It’s not unheard of,’ Jungkook says. ‘Some clans frown upon it.’

‘My grandfather left my grandmother,’ you tell him.

‘I’m sorry.’

You shrug. ‘I don’t know much. My grandmother didn’t talk about it.’

You turn to him.

‘I found all these letters she wrote him, I don’t know if he ever got to see them.’

Jungkook’s thoughtful. ‘I can ask around, if you want.’

He gets up. ‘I should go. Jimin wanted my help tonight.’

He gives you a careful look. ‘Will you be all right?’

‘No wonder Jimin’s a selkie,’ you say. ‘I bet his bark is worse than his bite.’

Jungkook gives you an exasperated look.

You’re on a roll. ‘Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone. My lips are sealed.’

Jungkook tosses his pelt at you. ‘Shut up.’

You struggle to extricate yourself from under his pelt. ‘Don’t you need this?’

‘Nah,’ Jungkook says, casual. ‘Besides —’

His voice drops low as he tilts his chin at you.

‘I like the way it smells when you look after it for me.’

Now you’re the one stammering and heating up.

Jungkook smirks at you and lets himself out.

***

Jungkook loads the last of the boxes into the back of your car and shuts the trunk.

He’s stepping back from the car when you ask, ‘Hey, you want to come with?’

Jungkook considers this.

‘We can get ice cream,’ you offer. ‘You’ll have to put a shirt on, though.’

Jungkook’s already pulling his t-shirt over his head and sliding into the passenger seat.

‘You’ll need someone to help you unload this stuff at the charity shop,’ he reasons.

‘Chocolate or vanilla?’ you ask.

‘Both?’ suggests Jungkook hopefully.

You smile affectionately at him. ‘Anything you want, doll.’

Jungkook pouts. ‘It sounds like you’re making fun of me,’ he complains.

‘Don’t be seal-y,’ you say.

Jungkook groans. ‘I don’t know if ice-cream is worth this.’

You chuckle softly to yourself as you pull out of your drive onto the road into town.

***

Jungkook waits patiently on the kerb outside as you speak to the owner of the charity shop.

When you’re done you smile up at him.

‘Ice-cream?’

‘Sure,’ he agrees amiably.

He doesn’t say much until you’re back in the car, ice-creams in hand.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

You glance at him but he’s not looking at you, licking up the rivulet of cream that’s trickled down the side of his cone.

‘Yeah,’ you say.

‘Your grandmother was more than what she left behind,’ Jungkook says.

He’s still not looking at you.

‘She was.’

Unexpectedly, your voice cracks, you clear your throat abruptly in an attempt to hide it.

He’s looking at you now, when you’re trying to look away, to discreetly wipe the tears pricking your eyelids.

Jungkook reaches out, and, without comment, thumbs the tears off your cheeks.

You finish your ice creams in silence.

When you pull onto your drive and kill the engine, Jungkook turns to you.

‘Tell me another seal joke.’

‘What type of music do you like?’ you ask. ‘Club hits?’

Jungkook laughs.

He looks so pretty like this, dark hair wavy and tousled, golden skin gleaming, that you lean forward and kiss him.

His laughter stops, and you aren’t given time to fret about whether that’s a bad thing because he’s nudging closer, seeking your lips as you pull away.

There’s a sigh, and you couldn’t say if it’s from you or him, don’t care anyway, because he’s kissing you back, and it’s good.

He tastes like chocolate, and salt, his lips firm, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips until you part them for him.

He licks into your mouth with a sweet urgency that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

His hand’s stroking the exposed skin of your back where your t-shirt’s ridden up, and his skin warms you more than the sun.

‘Jungkook,’ you murmur, as he presses kisses down the column of your throat, ‘wanna go upstairs?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. He pulls away, eyes dark, lips pink. ‘Yeah.’

***

You’re on your bed, half-undressed because Jungkook’s taking his time kissing along your breasts.

He’s shirtless, his beautiful chest toned and golden, flat nipples pebbling under your hand.

You brush a hand over the front of his jeans, thrilled by his hardness.

He groans, tugs at your shorts, lifts your hips up like you weren’t going to do it for him anyway.

He stares at the scrap of pink lace between your legs, so rapt you’re shy until he presses an open mouthed kiss to your folds.

The whine that falls involuntarily from your lips surprises you with its neediness.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind.

He tugs your panties half down your thighs, spreads you apart, and kisses you again.

His tongue slides between your folds, wet, insistent.

You’re throbbing, sensitive, as he licks you again and again.

He moans as you get wetter, slicker.

‘Swollen,’ he pants against your cunt. ‘Need me to lick you.’

You’re beyond words, bucking your hips so you can get more of the delicious pressure of his tongue where you need it.

‘Inside,’ you moan. ‘Need you.’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook agrees.

He shoves his jeans down, draws out his cock.

Your mouth waters. He’s pretty. Thick, precum glistening on his head.

Jungkook strokes his cock between your folds, making himself even wetter, and you cry out at the feel of his cock head against your clit.

‘Shit. Do that again.’

He nudges himself against your clit, rubbing precum against you. ‘Like that?’

‘Yeah,’ you gasp.

Jungkook swears softly. ‘I need to be inside.’

You still as he pushes in, the hard blunt head of him stretching you as he slides in. He thrusts shallow, slow, and you’re wound so tight you could scream when he groans, deep in his chest, and fills you all the way.

He rocks his hips against yours, the head of him nudging at your front wall. You’re wrapped around him somehow, you don’t remember doing it but you thighs are around his hips, ankles crossed, holding him tight to you as he thrusts.

Jungkook groans, reaches out to grab your breasts as he makes them bounce with every lunge of his hips.

He’s so fucking strong. You knew that, you’ve seen him carry things, but you’d never put it together that he would be strong like this too, his body moving against yours like he was made to fuck you.

He slows, panting, canting his hips, changing his angle, grabbing at your thigh when your ankles unlock.

‘That’s it,’ he grunts. ‘That’s it, fuck me back.’

He throws his head back as you lift your hips to meet his, sweat gleaming on his throat.

‘Jungkook!’

‘Take it,’ he moans.

You cry his name repeatedly as you come, a pulse of pleasure so intense you lose track of everything that isn’t Jungkook and his cock inside you.

Jungkook’s grinding against you, filling you up, mouthing at your neck, when he cries out and pulls out abruptly.

You moan in protest, and he kisses you, deep, long. You can feel his heart pounding against you.

‘Tried to knot,’ he mumbles. ‘Sorry.’

You have no idea what he’s talking about but you’re enjoying the feel of him holding you too much to care.

You’ll ask later.

***

Jungkook, it turns out, is beautiful when he sleeps.

He’s splayed beside you, face down in your bed, the sheet loose over his hips.

His face is slack with sleep, brow unfurrowed, lips parted in an ‘o’ that makes him look surprised.

He’s adorable, and the warmth in your chest as you watch him sleep surprises you.

You turn over, face the open window.

A moment later, Jungkook’s moving, curling himself around you, his chest pressed to your back.

‘Can’t sleep?’ he murmurs, his husky voice against your ear making you shiver.

‘I’m trying,’ you tell him.

You can feel him, hard, as he curls his body around yours.

‘Let me help,’ he says.

He reaches round to touch your naked breasts, arches your back, slides his cock between the cleft of your ass, entering you shallowly until you’re gasping and moaning.

Then he fucks you again, and it’s even better than the first time.

***

You’re trying not to stare at Jungkook as you have breakfast together, but it’s hard when you can still feel the imprints of his hands on your body.

Your only consolation is that Jungkook seems to be struggling as much as you are.

His eyes flit between your neck, where he left a hickey close to your ear, skim over your breasts, and eventually his gaze lands on your face.

When he sees your smile he returns it, endearingly shy.

‘I had a good time last night,’ you say.

‘Me too,’ he replies.

You’re still smiling at each other like idiots.

There’s a knock on the door, and you look up, surprised.

You open the door to an unfriendly expression on a fiercely pretty face.

Jimin lifts a brow at you. ‘Is Jungkook here?’

Jungkook’s up. ‘Jimin?’

‘We have to go. Taehyung’s hurt.’ Jimin throws you a look that makes you step back.

He’s furious, and his next words hit you like a slap. ‘Fucking humans.’

You’re not given a chance to react, as Jimin’s already turning away. Jungkook throws you an apologetic look, but he doesn’t say anything.

Then they’re gone.

***

You’re nervous, waiting by your front door like it’s the first date you’ve ever had, and it’s not even a date.

Namjoon’s picking you up and you’re going into town for dinner.

You haven’t seen Jungkook since he left with Jimin. Granted, it’s only been a couple of days, but you’ve got used to having him around.

For the thousandth time, you wonder what he’s doing. You hope he’s ok.

There’s the flash of headlights in your front window, you’re opening the door before you realise you’re moving.

Namjoon pulls to a stop, gets out, and you have a flash of realisation.

He’s dressed up for this - shoulders and chest broad and strong against a crisp blue shirt, slacks that hug his ass and make his legs look even thicker.

‘Hey,’ you say, feeling suddenly shy.

This feels different from the Namjoon who used to collect shells and catch crabs with you when you were kids. You know he’s different now, but you’re still getting used to it.

He walks over to open your door for you.

‘Hey,’ he says. He smiles, and the flash of dimples makes you feel more at ease.

‘Hey,’ you say again.

‘Hey,’ he replies. ‘You look really pretty.’

You put your hand over your grandmother’s pearl, hanging in your decolletage.

‘Thanks,’ you say. ‘You look good too.’

You slide into the passenger seat, look up just in time to catch the way Namjoon’s gaze drops to how your skirt’s ridden up your thighs.

There’s a beat of nothing, then you hastily pull your skirt down, and Namjoon straightens up to close your door.

At the restaurant, Namjoon leans back in his chair across from you. His arm’s slung casually over the back of the chair next to him – you’ve never seen his shoulders look so broad.

‘How are you getting on with clearing out your grandmother’s house?’ he asks.

‘We’re doing well,’ you tell him. You take a sip of your wine. ‘The loft’s almost empty, that was the biggest task, and the garden looks pretty good now.’

You see the way his brow rises slightly at the ‘we’.

‘Remember that guy I told you about in the store? Jungkook? He’s been helping me.’

‘I’m glad you have help,’ Namjoon says. ‘If you need any extra hands, I’ve got time next week.’

‘I think we’ll be ok, but thanks,’ you tell him.

‘Are you staying?’ Namjoon asks. ‘After you finish clearing out the house?’

He shifts a little, and his thigh brushes yours under the table.

You try to ignore the rush of heat through you at the unexpected touch.

‘I might stay for a bit,’ you say.

You’d love to say you’re going back to where you were living, but the honest truth is, you feel untethered.

Your friends in the city were great, your little apartment is your sanctuary, and your job was ok, but since being back you’ve felt a distance between you and your old life.

You’ve never felt so strongly that there’s more out here for you.

Namjoon tilts his head. ‘It’d be great to see more of you. My mum’s always asking after you.’

You laugh. ‘I miss her a lot too.’

‘She thinks you and I would be perfect together, she was more excited than me about our date.’

You roll your eyes. ‘Surely she knows, Namjoon, that you don’t really date.’

Namjoon pretends to be hurt, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away. ‘We’re in a nice restaurant, I wore a nice shirt, how can you say this isn’t a date?’

You pretend to be thinking.

‘Is this table too small, do you think? Because your thigh keeps brushing against mine, and —’

Namjoon laughs, sips his wine. ‘I also like that pearl you’ve got on that’s hanging between your tits. Like I needed more reasons to look there.’

You laugh. ‘It’s my grandmother’s!’

‘That ivory colour suits your skin tone,’ Namjoon says. He dimples at you.

‘Shut up,’ you grumble. ‘Eat your food.’

‘Load up on carbs, baby,’ Namjoon suggests. ‘We’re going to burn them off later.’

You ignore him.

***

Namjoon pulls up outside your house, gets out to open your door for you.

He looks at you hopefully. ‘Are you gonna invite me in?’

You laugh. ‘No. I’m fine with being the only woman in town you haven’t fucked.’

Namjoon laughs, cups your arm as he walks you back up to your front door.

There’s movement in the shadows, and you realise Jungkook’s been waiting on your front porch.

He steps forward, eyes you and Namjoon.

Beside you, Namjoon stiffens, turns towards you.

‘Hey, Jungkook,’ you say. ‘This is Namjoon. Namjoon, Jungkook.’

Jungkook nods at Namjoon.

Namjoon turns more, putting himself between you and Jungkook.

‘I can probably take him,’ Namjoon tells you, in a stage whisper. ‘If you want me to get rid of him.’

You roll your eyes. ‘No one’s getting rid of anyone. Thanks for dinner, Namjoon.’

Namjoon gives Jungkook a long look, then leans down deliberately to kiss you on the cheek.

‘Call me later,’ he says.

You wait until he’s got back in his car and driven off before turning to Jungkook.

‘Hey,’ you say. ‘How’s your friend?’

‘Taehyung? He’s ok. He was hurt but the clan’s looking after him. He’ll be fine,’ Jungkook tells you.

‘What happened?’

‘Some guys out in a fishing boat thought it’d be funny to try to catch him,’ Jungkook says. His eyes are serious. ‘There are some pretty cruel people out there.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him.

You reach out to touch his arm, and he pulls back like he doesn’t want you to touch him.

You drop your hand, stung.

‘Is there much left to do? Have you made progress since I Ieft?’ Jungkook asks.

There’s a distance to his voice now, a coolness you’ve never felt from him before.

‘Yeah,’ you lie. ‘I’m almost done, actually.’

‘That’s great,’ Jungkook says. He’s barely looking at you.

‘Yeah.’

‘You probably don’t need my help anymore,’ Jungkook says.

You’re too upset to hide it, so you’re glad for the darkness around you.

‘Thank you,’ you say. ‘Thanks for helping me.’

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

You fumble through your bag, looking for your keys, trying hard to see through the sheen of tears suddenly in your eyes.

‘Here,’ Jungkook says finally. He reaches into your bag, plucks out the keys, unlocks your front door.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ you say.

You risk a glance up at his face.

‘Are you — are you going?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. There’s something like regret in his eyes, but maybe you’re over-reading his expression.

‘Ok. Thank you.’

You step into your house, and very slowly, close the door behind you.

You tell yourself it’s probably for the best.

***

You have no idea why you keep coming back to this spot on the beach, apart from it was the spot Jungkook picked to profoundly change your world view.

It’s usually deserted, but today the usual serenity of the vista is marred by shouting.

You approach, and to your horror, there’s a seal on the shore, and a couple of guys standing over it.

You rush forward. ‘Hey!’

You have the oddest feeling of deja vu. It’s not the same, not the same at all, but this reminds you of the first time you met Jungkook.

You see the swing of a piece of driftwood, and you jump forward.

At the last moment, the guy who had been about to hit the seal manages to swing away so he doesn’t hit you.

You ignore him.

‘Get back in the water,’ you say.

The seal looks at you, watching, waiting.

‘Fucking go,’ you plead. ‘Please, just go.’

You think it’s Jungkook but you really have no idea, you’ve only seen him in seal form once.

You wait until he moves, before turning back to the guys.

‘Why would you even do that?’ you ask, angrily. ‘It’s a seal!’

The guy scoffs. ‘What’s it to you, bitch?’

You clench your jaw. ‘You’d better walk away, asshole.’

The two guys stare at you, but you’re too angry to care.

‘Hey!’ comes another voice.

You all turn to see Jimin approaching.

Fuck. Just what you need. Another angry man who hates you.

You turn back and realise the seal’s gone.

‘Come on,’ Jimin says. To your astonishment, he steps between you and the men. ‘Come on, Y/N, let’s go back home.’

You’re so surprised that you allow him to lead you away from the men.

Eventually you look at him. ‘We don’t even have the same home.’

‘Yeah, I’m aware of that,’ Jimin says, dry.

‘Guess you saw those assholes.’

‘Jungkook should know better.’

You try to ignore the flare of hope in your chest at the acknowledgement that it was Jungkook on the beach.

‘I guess you think he should know better about a lot of things,’ you say, spiky.

Jimin hums. ‘You didn’t hurt him but there are a lot of cruel humans out there.’

You’ve reached your door. ‘Yeah.’

You turn to Jimin. ‘I hope he’s ok,’ you say. ‘Look after yourself, Jimin.’

You don’t think there’s anything left to say.

***

You fall into a routine of sorts as the days click into place.

Jungkook had been right, the garden didn’t need any more work after he left.

The loft’s empty now, apart from a box of letters, some of which you’re waiting to have the emotional headspace to read.

After the loft, emptying the rooms is easy. The house still has its memories, but you no longer feel laden with the past.

It’s a week after you saw Jungkook on the beach that you wake to find his pelt on the step up to your kitchen door.

You pick it up carefully, look around like Jungkook might still be around even though your instincts tell you that you’re alone.

You place it on the couch, wonder what the hell you’re supposed to do with it, why he would even leave it with you considering he doesn’t want to see you.

You remember the picture of your grandparents and your grandfather’s pelt, and re-open the last box from the loft.

Letter after letter, tiny fine trinkets, a lock of your mother’s hair tied with a ribbon.

Another picture, this time of you, on your grandfather’s lap.

You don’t remember much about him apart from that he’d been kind, and that he’d seemed to love your grandmother. They’d seemed to have loved each other.

You unfold another letter. The paper’s crisper than the others, like it’s been wet and dried.

Dearest,

I don’t have any regrets about the life we chose. I’ll always cherish our time together, short though it was.

Today is hard. I’m angry, and I’m upset, and I miss you so very much.

I wish you’d chosen me instead of your clan.

I wish I’d told you what I wanted before you left.

I hate that we are apart, and today, I almost hate you.

I don’t mean that. Maybe I do.

Most of all, I wish I could tell you, my love, that even on days like this, it was worth all our while.

It was worth it.

All my love, always

Dasom

Tear prick your eyelids, and you blink them back hurriedly, but not quickly enough. A fat teardrop lands in the middle of the letter, and you realise now why the paper is crisper than the others, why the ink in some spots is smeared.

Your grandmother was crying when she wrote it.

You’re re-folding the letter, about to close the box, when you spot another letter at the very bottom.

It’s written on different paper, and when you unfold it, in different handwriting.

Dasom,

You know I’m not one for writing, you always wrote so much more beautifully than I did. Did you get the pearl? I found it last year, and it’s always reminded me of you.

I want to ask how Ara is but I see her sometimes by the shore, with Y/N, and they’re perfect.

Loving you was the best thing I ever did, and I think that every day.

All my love, always

Dal

You’re crying so hard you can barely breathe.

The knock on your kitchen door startles you. You wipe your tears away hastily, and open the door.

It’s Jungkook.

He’s wet, and it takes you longer than it should to notice that it’s raining.

Jungkook leans down so his face is closer to yours. His eyes are worried. ‘Are you ok?’

‘I’m fine,’ you tell him. ‘I was reading old letters.’

‘Thank you for helping me,’ he starts, ‘that day on the beach.’

‘Which one?’ you joke, tearily.

Jungkook smiles. ‘You’re always saving me,’ he agrees.

He steps closer, and you realise he’s trying to stop the rain from reaching you by shielding you with his own body.

You step back, into your kitchen.

‘I can’t sleep,’ Jungkook tells you.

‘Want a hot chocolate?’ you offer.

‘Always,’ Jungkook admits. ‘But I don’t think that’s why.’

You look up at him.

‘I belong to you,’ Jungkook tells you.

Your heart begins to pound.

‘I always have,’ he says, eyes intent on you.

You turn to give yourself some space. ‘I’ve told you, Jungkook, you don’t owe me anything.’

Your voice comes out firm, confident.

‘I owe you everything,’ Jungkook says.

‘You don’t owe me a damn thing —’

You’re cut off by Jungkook stepping forward and leaning down to kiss you. He’s gentle as always, his arm wrapping loosely around your waist to hold you as your lips meet.

Jungkook says, ‘Have you packed your bed?’

He’s backing you gently out of the kitchen, heading to the stairs.

‘Jungkook we can’t —’

He stops. ‘Don’t you want to?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, fuck, ok. We can.’

***

You’re loose, still boneless from your orgasm, when Jungkook goes to fetch you water from the kitchen.

He comes back with a glass of water, and his pelt.

‘Kinky,’ you say, teasing.

‘I didn’t tell you about pelts before,’ he says. He scoots in next to you, brushes your hair away from your face.

‘I have something to tell you about your pelt too,’ you confess.

At his expression, you say, quickly, ‘You go first.’

‘The reason I was so grateful to you when you helped me that day at the beach is that you stopped those men from taking my pelt,’ Jungkook tells you.

He looks at you. ‘For a selkie, a pelt is the source of our ability to change form.’

‘If those men had taken my pelt, I’d have been stuck in human form permanently.’

‘You should take better care of it,’ you scold.

Jungkook’s still looking at you. ‘I did. I left it with you.’

The realisation makes you sit up. ‘You should have told me how important it was!’

Jungkook says, simply, ‘I trusted you to look after it.’

You groan. ‘Why would you trust me like that, Jungkook?’

Jungkook rolls over, on top of you.

He’s heavy, but that’s not the main reason your breathing’s quickening.

‘I have more to tell you,’ he murmurs, voice husky now.

‘Yeah?’ you ask.

Jungkook leans his head down, tugs the sheet off you with his teeth.

His eyes darken as your breasts are bared to him.

‘I almost knotted you,’ he tells you.

You’re distracted, because he’s grinding against you, and you can feel exactly how hard he is.

‘Hmm?’ you ask.

Jungkook nudges his cock between your legs, pushing himself in an inch. Two.

You close your eyes. ‘Fuck, Jungkook.’

‘Knotting’s an important thing for selkies,’ Jungkook explains.

You have no idea how he even has the presence of mind to still be making full sentences.

Shit, you can’t think! Not when he’s inside you like this.

Jungkook moves, a shallow thrust that makes you moan.

‘When a selkie meets his mate, his biological response is to knot.’

‘Shit, Jungkook,’ you gasp as he moves again. ‘Can we talk about this later?’

Jungkook’s breathing hard as he moves again, and you’re pleased you’re not the only one hot and bothered by what he’s doing.

‘No,’ he says. ‘We need to talk about it. I’m worried I might —’

Your eyes snap to his.

‘What’s knotting?’

Jungkook stills, but you can still feel him, hard and throbbing inside you.

‘I’ve never knotted anyone before,’ he tells you. ‘But the other day, I nearly knotted you.’

Now he has your full attention.

‘After I come, the base of my cock swells inside you.’ He looks shy, which is a lot considering he’s inside you still.

‘It’s biological. To keep my sperm inside you.’

‘I’m on birth control —’

‘I know,’ he says. ‘But selkies haven’t evolved to get past that yet.’

You laugh. ‘Are you saying your cock gets even bigger after you’ve come?’

Jungkook buries his face between your breasts, but he’s still so hard.

‘Fuck. Ok, show me.’

‘It might hurt you,’ Jungkook says, touching your cheek.

‘You’ll look after me, won’t you?’

‘I will,’ he promises. ‘Fuck, I will.’

He starts moving again, grunting as he thrusts. You curl your hand around the nape of his neck, holding him close as he grinds against you.

‘Jungkook I —’

‘Yeah,’ he says. He presses kisses to your cheeks, to your neck, as you tighten around him.

You cry his name again as you come, hear his answering moan.

Jungkook’s thrusting slower now, movements getting more erratic as he reaches his peak.

He seals his lips to yours as he comes, groans deep in his chest. You can feel him twitching inside you as he fills you.

There’s so much come you can feel it leaking out of you.

Jungkook strokes your face, kisses you. ‘I’m going to knot,’ he tells you, voice strained. ‘Can I?’

‘Yeah,’ you say.

You turn your face into his hand, press a kiss into his palm as he swells inside you.

You shift a little, and Jungkook says, hoarse, ‘You’re doing so well, shit, it feels so good.’

He moves, once, and you moan at the pleasure of it.

‘Does it feel good for you?’ Jungkook asks. He makes the same movement again, and you moan again.

‘Yeah,’ you tell him. ‘I like it —’

Jungkook groans. ‘I like it too, baby.’

He reaches between your bodies, strokes your clit as he moves, and between the fullness inside you and the way he’s touching you, you come again.

Jungkook swears, pupils so blown his eyes look black. ‘I can feel you,’ he tells you. ‘Fuck, I can feel you.’

You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him as he holds you tightly. You have no idea how long the pleasure goes on for, if it even stops. All you know is the feel of Jungkook all around you, inside you, and it all makes sense to you.

***

Your grandmother’s grave is a simple one with a small flat polished headstone. The inscription reads, Dasom, loving mother to Ara and grandmother to Y/N, and loving wife to Dal.

Yours are the only flowers in front of it, but as you set them down you notice the square laid carefully on the ground.

It’s part of your grandfather’s pelt, you’d know it anywhere.

You look up at Jungkook, hesitant. ‘Does this mean –’

‘When a selkie dies, his pelt is given to his loved ones,’ Jungkook says.

You don’t put much stock in physical things, especially not now when you’ve seen firsthand how none of it matters, really, but you like that your grandfather’s pelt is with your grandmother.

You hope it means they’ve found each other again.

Jungkook holds out his hand to help you up, and you walk down the path together.

Author note: For Memes @madbutgloriouspond , because your friendship and kindness means the world to me.

©hamsterclaw 2023

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hamsterclaw · 17 days ago

Text

Pornstache

You're rebuilding your relationship with your husband, but his new facial hair is making you rethink your decision.

Pairing: Taehyung x F!reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Non-idol AU, smut

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Sexually explicit scenes, swearing, fluff and facial hair.

Author disclaimer:

1) This is the couple from 7 hours because I didn't want to leave them. This works as a standalone, you don't have to have read 7 hours to read this. There'll be more stories to come.

2)The views of the protagonist in this drabble don't necessarily reflect the views of this blog in general. This is a non-judgemental space - all facial hair patterns welcome.

Taehyung comes to you for a kiss just before he heads out the door. His stubbly chin tickles you as he murmurs in your ear, ‘dinner out later?’

‘Sure. I’ll reserve a table,’ you say. You smile at him then go back to reading the briefing notes you’ve just written for the comms director you work for.

Tae’s at a climate change conference today, as one of the panel. He’s also giving the keynote address this afternoon. You wonder if he was running late and if that’s why he didn’t have time to shave.

He’s so handsome a little stubble probably only adds to his appeal, you figure. You put it out of your mind and go back to reading.

***

You meet your friend Jimin for lunch. He’s actually one of your and Taehyung’s friends from university. He owns his own company now, and you’ve heard he can be cutthroat, but it’s hard for you to see him as anything but the loyal and kind guy who saw you home after countless house parties.

‘How’s Tae?’ Jimin asks as you wait for your food.

‘He’s good, we’re good. We’re working on things. We’re living together now,’ you tell him.

You take a sip of your wine. ‘It’s going ok.’

Jimin smiles warmly at you. ‘I’m glad. You’re restoring my faith in love.’

‘Who hurt you that you have to rely on Tae and me to ‘restore your faith in love’?’ you tease. ‘I thought things were going well with Jess.’

‘Yeah, she’s great,’ Jimin says. ‘But you and Tae are the greatest love story to come out of our year.’

‘Seems a lot to live up to,’ you sigh.

Jimin laughs. ‘Jess wants to have you two over for dinner soon.’

Jess is Jimin’s long-term partner, a sous-chef with a Michelin star. You’re never going to turn down dinner at Jess’.

‘Sounds great,’ you say.

***

To your surprise, Taehyung is already at your table when you arrive for your dinner date.

‘Hey, baby,’ he says, getting up to kiss you as you approach. ‘How was your day?’

‘Great,’ you reply. You slip into your seat. ‘I met Jiminie for lunch. He wants to have us over sometime. Jess is cooking.’

‘I’d love that,’ Tae says immediately. He nods his thanks as the waiter brings drinks. ‘I ordered you a cocktail, I hope that’s ok.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I’ve got to fly to Helsinki next week,’ Taehyung says. ‘There’s another COP.’

‘Will you be gone long?’ you ask.

‘A couple weeks, max,’ Taehyung says. ‘We can have dinner with Jimin and Jess after that.’

He scratches at his chin.

‘You ok?’ you ask.

‘Yeah, just this stubble is itchy.’

You cup his chin. Taehyung’s pretty hirsute compared to his group of friends. He’s always had to shave daily. It means there’s always shaving gel in the bathroom, but he’s complained more than once about not enjoying having to shave regularly. He refuses to shave on weekends.

‘I thought I’d grow it out,’ he says, casually.

You look down at your menu.

‘As in grow a beard?’ you ask.

‘Whatever wants to grow,’ he says, shrugging.

‘Well, you do hate shaving, baby,’ you say lightly. You don’t think anything more of it as you order your meal.

***

You’ve been kissing Taehyung goodbye all morning before he leaves for Helsinki. Your skin is starting to feel a little raw from his stubble rubbing against it.

‘Ah, sorry, baby,’ he says, rubbing a thumb gently over your cheek. ‘It’ll get softer when it gets longer, I promise.’

‘Is my face red?’ you ask, still hazy from his kisses.

You push yourself up off the bed, dragging him down to you to kiss him again.

‘Your poor face,’ Taehyung says. He strokes your hair back. ‘I’ll call you when I arrive, ok?’

‘Sure baby,’ you say. You’re about to get up to see him to the door when he pushes you gently back onto the bed.

‘Stay in bed. I’ll be thinking about you tangled up in these sheets all day,’ he says. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and gets up.

He heads to the door, and as you watch him leave you admire how beautiful he looks in his cashmere sweater, his tailored slacks.

Even his stubble is starting to look more even now, after a week of patchiness.

Your husband is gorgeous. You flip over in bed, wondering if it’s inappropriate to masturbate to him when he’s literally just left after spending all night fucking you into the bed.

***

Your phone rings and you dive into bed, pulling the covers over you.

‘Hey, baby,’ you say.

Taehyung’s voice sounds in your ear, deep, warm. ‘Hey baby. What are you up to?’

‘Just had a bath,’ you say.

‘Are you dressed?’ Taehyung asks. He sounds like he’s stretching out.

‘Barely. But there’s no one here,’ you reply.

‘I’m naked,’ Taehyung tells you. ‘I just had a shower.’

‘Isn’t it cold in Helsinki?’ you ask, curious.

‘Even when it’s cold there’s plenty of me to go around,’ Taehyung says.

You can hear the smirk in his voice.

Your husband’s not wrong, even if his cockiness makes you want to smack him.

‘You horny, baby?’ you ask, teasing.

He grunts. ‘I want to wait until I come back to you.’

‘When does your flight arrive?’ you ask.

‘Midnight tomorrow. Stay up for me? We can have a lazy Sunday.’

‘Sounds perfect, baby,’ you say.

Tae’s been away for two weeks, and you can’t wait to see him again.

***

It’s just after 1am when you hear the front door open.

It’s ridiculous how excited you are to see Tae.

You smooth a hand over the silky robe you’re wearing, tugging the belt tight around your waist. You’re not wearing anything underneath, and you want Tae to find that out himself.

Only it’s not the Tae you know that’s stepping into your entrance hall, dropping his keys in the dish.

This man is not your husband.

He’s not the man you met in the library at university, who you loved enough to marry and promise your life to, who you walked a marathon with a few months ago.

He smiles at you, and you can barely see his beautiful lips under the forest of hair on his face.

Your beloved Taehyung has a full beard.

Even worse, above his upper lip, is a sheaf of dark, bristly hair.

Your beloved Taehyung has a full beard, and a pornstache.

There’s no other way to describe it. He looks like he’s just won the lead role in a 70s porno where he’s playing someone called Dirk who wears overalls and carries a toolbox.

Taehyung’s smiling at you. You think he’s smiling from the way his eyes are sparkling. Who knows what’s going on under all that hair.

He’s going in for a kiss, sliding an arm around your waist. He smells familiar, the timbre of his voice is familiar, but you have to squeeze your eyes shut before you can kiss him back.

‘Baby,’ he says, delight in his voice as he discovers you’re bare under your skimpy shorty robe.

His fingers slip over your skin, and over your cunt, which is drier than the Sahara.

‘Tae,’ you murmur faintly, because you don’t want to upset him.

‘You look so good, baby, I’ve missed you so much.’ Taehyung’s warm hands have pulled your robe apart and are stroking over your skin.

You feel your body responding to him from muscle memory alone.

There’s only one thing for it.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

‘Can we go in the bedroom, baby?’ you ask.

You turn the lights off as you go.

***

You wake up to Taehyung’s face between your legs. Your eyes travel down his beautiful forehead, his stunning eyes, and the carpet of hair obscuring his upper lip, cheeks and chin.

Taehyung’s hands are on your thighs. His beard tickles you as he mouths at your skin.

He reaches the apex of your thighs, and his lips press against your clit.

Last night, not being able to see him clearly and the familiarity of his cock and hands had enabled you to get off.

Today, in the early morning sunlight, there’s no hiding it.

Your husband has a pornstache, and he’s keen to shove it between your legs.

You say a quiet prayer for the delicate skin of your labia.

You’ve never worked so hard to cum for Tae. He’s making all the right sounds, doing all the right things, and all you can think is that you’re got a tiny furry rodent between your legs.

You can’t bear it, so you decide to fake it. You curl your hand in his hair and buck into his face. ‘So good,’ you gasp. ‘Oh my god, Tae. I’m -‘

When you’re coming down from your fake orgasm, you open your eyes to see Taehyung staring at you.

He looks livid. Like an angry lumberjack.

Your husband slaps your pussy, and your hips jerk.

‘What the hell was that?’ he snaps.

You bite your lips and hold your tongue.

Taehyung turns you over, pulling your hips up. He’s in you almost instantly, shoving his rigid cock into you.

You push your face into the pillow to muffle your cry.

His hand is kneading your ass, hard. ‘Don’t you ever fucking fake it with me again,’ he hisses.

Unbelievably, this is making you wetter than the entire preceeding twenty minutes did.

‘Tae,’ you cry out.

He slaps your ass.

‘Did I say you could speak?’ he asks. His voice is stern, cold.

His thrusts are relentless, he’s fucking into you like he wants to punish you. His hand slips over the front of your pelvis, helping you slam your hips back onto his cock.

‘Can you feel me? I’m hard as a fucking rock for you. Don’t I deserve more than a fake orgasm, baby?’

You’re moaning, crying out. Like this, the stretch is so good, so good you can barely speak. Taehyung sets a relentless pace, dragging you to the edge.

He licks up your spine, landing on your neck.

‘Tae,’ you cry out.

‘I’m going to fuck you until you can barely stand,’ he says. He dribbles spit onto your ass.

He shoves two fingers in your open mouth. ‘Suck,’ he says, and you do, getting them as wet as you can because you know where those fingers are going next.

By the time Taehyung pushes his spit and arousal soaked fingers into your ass, you’re beyond words.

‘Tae,’ you moan.

He stills. ‘Are you ok, baby?’

‘Yeah,’ you pant. ‘Don’t stop.’

He fucks you with his fingers and his cock until you’re sobbing his name.

‘Tae,’ you whimper.

You can’t see his face, thank god, but it sounds like he’s smirking.

‘You gonna cum for real this time?’ he asks.

He twists his fingers, and you cum so hard your vision goes white and there’s white noise in your ears.

You think that Tae must cum too, because when you’re back in the room he’s kissing you fervently in that way he does every time you have sex.

Your legs feel rubbery as you stand to go to the bathroom. By the time you make it back you’re wiped out. You dive into bed and face plant into the pillows.

Taehyung presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. ‘I’ve got you water, baby,’ he says.

You sit up and take a sip.

‘Do you hate it that much?’ he asks. He sounds so disappointed your heart melts.

You force yourself to look him in the eye.

‘I could never hate you, my love,’ you tell him. ‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I can barely see your face.’

Taehyung frowns. He’s stroking his beard, another new and repulsive habit he’s picked up in Helsinki.

‘You hate it so much you faked an orgasm,’ he muses.

‘It felt like I was being eaten out by a scrubbing brush,’ you say. You shudder. ‘Or a hamster.’

Taehyung looks at you sadly. ‘I’ve heard some women like it.’

‘You looked sexy with stubble,’ you suggest.

Taehyung brightens. ‘Can I keep it for the weekend? I’ll shave on Monday.’

‘It’s your face, babe, you can do whatever you want.’ Now you feel bad.

‘Are you making me choose between having this incredible beard and eating you out?’ Taehyung asks.

You shrug. ‘I can go without head.’

‘But I can’t,’ Taehyung says. ‘I need your pussy.’

Your stomach rumbles. ‘Come on Tae. I’ll fix breakfast. We can talk about this later.’

Taehyung holds your hand as you walk to the park after breakfast.

‘I thought you’d like it,’ he says.

You smile up at him. ‘How did you find out about my Merlin fetish? It was a toss up between him and Gandalf.’

Taehyung scowls at you. ‘I’m better looking than both those guys.’

‘You are, baby. I just need to get you a pointy hat and some robes and we can role play.’

Taehyung pouts, or at least you think he’s trying to. Who can tell.

***

You’re fixing breakfast the next morning when Taehyung comes out of the bedroom, beaming at you.

He’s dressed in a sharp suit, tie perfectly knotted, hair styled.

He’s shaved his beard but left his luxuriant moustache.

You sigh inwardly.

‘How do I look, baby?’ he asks, smiling at you.

You haven’t the heart to burst his bubble.

‘Looking sharp, baby,’ you say. His pornstache tickles you as he leans in for a kiss.

‘I’ll shave the rest tonight,’ he promises you. ‘I just wanted to try out this look first.’

You pull him in for another kiss. ‘Sure baby,’ you say, waving him off.

Marriages are about compromise, after all.

©hamsterclaw 2022

564 notes · View notes

hamsterclaw · 18 days ago

Text

Desecrate

A fall from grace causes you to stumble into the hands of a demon prince. Inspired by Lilith.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing, mention of murder, non-explicit attempted assault, angels and demons

Min Yoongi is older than most creatures to walk this Earth, this much he knows. It’s been years since he last felt that any of the petty skirmishes mortals involve themselves in was worth any of his interest or his time.

Even though time, for him, stretches out, almost infinitely.

He doesn’t know your face at all, but you catch his attention, and hold it. He can sense your mortality slipping through your fragile grasp as you grapple with the men holding you down.

You’re not going to win, though he admires your grit.

Yoongi’s no stranger to blood but he has no desire to watch you get used and torn to shreds. He’s moving on when your eyes meet his.

You plead with him wordlessly, desperately, as the light dims in your eyes.

Yoongi knows that this is a dangerous time, the twilight between living and dying. You’re straddling both worlds, dying even as you push uselessly at the hands around your neck.

It would be facetious to say that Yoongi kills without a shred of remorse. It’s more truthful to say that he kills without a thought.

He’s standing amidst the mess he made, you at his feet, your face pressed to the ground.

You’re unconscious, but you’ll live, unlike the men Yoongi dispatched on your behalf.

There’s something unbearable to him about the way the lovely line of your cheek is touching the dirt of this human dumping ground.

Yoongi doesn’t know what possesses him, but he takes you with him as he leaves.

***

You wake in stages, in a very human way.

Your eyes flicker open, shut. Yoongi can hear your heart accelerate, your breathing quicken, he can see your muscles tense.

Your mouth opens on an inhale, and your eyes flicker open again.

‘Where am I?’ you rasp.

Your voice is soft, plaintive, your vocal cords swollen from your assault.

‘You’re in my home,’ Yoongi replies.

When you turn your head to look at him, your eyes are more focused.

‘And who are you?’

‘I saved your life,’ Yoongi tells you.

He watches as your eyes scan the domed ceiling, the painted frescoes, the stained glass. Your gaze stops at a scene of the Madonna.

Yoongi studies your profile, the dirt smudged on your cheekbone he’d not bothered to wipe off.

Your gaze returns to him.

‘You’re Min Yoongi.’

It’s not a question, but Yoongi’s compelled to answer anyway, because the fact that you’ve guessed his identity means there’s more to you than he first thought.

You sit up, and Yoongi wonders how he managed to miss the celestial aura emanating from you.

Lords and beings.

You’re an angel.

Seokjin is never going to let him live this down.

Min Yoongi, ancient slayer of humans, demonic legend from the mediaeval history of man, saved an angel.

Yoongi gets up, lets a tiny fraction of his darkness show. His voice deepens, resonating through the chapel.

‘Leave.’

You’re frightened, he can see it in the way you’re tensed, body held taut like a bow.

‘I can’t. It’s the night of Pandemonium.’

Pandemonium marks the beginning of when the Gates of Hell open each year. From your reaction, Yoongi guesses you’re a young angel, limited in power, incapable of cloaking or protecting yourself.

He laughs sardonically. ‘I don’t think the home of the bulgasari Prince is the right place for an angel on the night of Pandemonium, do you?’

You clasp your hands.

‘I’m not an angel.’

Yoongi stares at you.

‘Not anymore. I was cast out.’

For the first time, Yoongi feels a flicker of interest.

He can feel the scales in his mind threaten to tip by the tiniest of margins.

For the first time, he thinks he might not kill you.

Seemingly unaware of his internal debate, you take a step closer to him.

Towards the most dangerous being in the room.

Yoongi flicks his tongue over his lower lip, steps forward so you can see him in the red glow.

His human form is beautiful, drawing others in. Leading them to their own destruction.

He can see the way your pupils dilate, your tongue wets your bottom lip, as you see him clearly for the first time.

‘You want to stay with me?’ he asks, silky. He takes another step.

You tilt your chin so you can keep looking at him.

‘Show me how much you want to stay.’

Yoongi turns his head towards the painting above the hearth.

‘Destroy it.’

You turn to the painting.

It’s from the 14th century, by a little known Italian painter called Diavollo, depicting the death of Santa Lucia. He was gifted it by a corrupt nobleman in exchange for his life. Yoongi had taken both.

You cast a defiant look at him, rush towards the painting. You stop, head bowed, before it.

‘I can’t.’

‘You can,’ Yoongi says, pitching his voice low, letting the heat of it flare out to you.

You clasp your hands together again, despairing. ‘I can’t.’

Steps heavy, head bowed, you head for the door.

You stop just inside the front entrance to the chapel, as if giving him a chance to change his mind before he sends you to certain death.

Yoongi’s had countless beings plead for mercy from him in his long life and he has never once given in.

There’s a stirring in the recesses of his mind as he admires your profile for the last time. It feels like longing.

Then you’re gone, door swinging closed behind you.

***

Yoongi dislikes gatherings like this, when the princes of Hell and their delegates celebrate their misdeeds in front of the beings who serve them.

If Seokjin hadn’t asked him to attend as a personal favour, Yoongi would be in his home.

Oddly, he’s not been able to look at the Diavollo since you gave your life rather than destroy it.

He wonders if that sort of foolishness is what got you exiled.

He’s thought about your face so much that when he sees you, he’s momentarily stilled.

You’re knelt at the feet of Malvarius, the highest ranking demon of Yeomna’s court, save for Seokjin, and Yoongi himself.

Yoongi watches with revulsion as Malvarius scratches a bloodstained nail along the line of your neck, stopping at the iron collar around your throat.

Malvarius wraps his fist in the chain attached to your collar, tugs.

You fold to the ground in a heap of loose limbs and the sheer drapery he’s dressed you in.

Yoongi finds he still doesn’t care to see your face against the ground.

He approaches the demon, and you.

When you see him, there’s a flicker in your eyes.

‘She’s mine,’ Yoongi says, unceremoniously, to Malvarius.

Malvarius, the treacherous devil, says smoothly, ‘Pardon me?’

‘I made her a deal,’ Yoongi replies, preternaturally calm. ‘She owes me.’

Malvarius sits up, and Yoongi realises there’s a crowd gathering.

It doesn’t take much to have demons baying for blood.

Malvarius draws himself up to his full height.

‘Do you mean to say, Yoongi, that you own the soul of Azariel’s only daughter?’

Yoongi blinks.

Azariel, the most revered of the archangels, is a name that strikes fear even in the hearts of the most seasoned of demon princes.

You’re Azariel’s daughter?

Yoongi remembers the way you cried over the Diavollo as you walked to your death.

You’d not used your father’s name as a bargaining chip.

Yoongi says, coolly, ‘One fallen angel is just like any other.’

‘She’s a lusty slut,’ Malvarius remarks. ‘Can’t stop opening your legs for me, can you, angel?’

You gasp in pain as he pulls up on the chain, making you dance on your toes to keep from being choked.

Yoongi finds he doesn’t care for the sight of you in pain, either.

‘Give me what’s mine,’ he says, bored. ‘Or we can ask Yeomna to mediate.’

At the mention of the lord of Hell, Malvarius scowls. The last time he clashed with Seokjin, Yoongi had come very close to removing his power, Yeomna’s rules be damned.

He tosses the chain on the stone floor with a clang.

‘To your new master,’ he says, with little grace.

Yoongi removes the collar from around your neck.

‘Follow me,’ he commands.

Yoongi leads you through the debauchery, ignoring your gasps and sobbing breaths as you step through blood, entrails, sex.

It’s only when you’ve followed him all the way back to his door that he speaks to you.

‘I’m deciding what to do with you,’ he tells you. ‘You will stay here, whilst I decide.’

‘My father won’t engage in barter for me,’ you say immediately. ‘He’d as soon as I was dead as alive.’

‘You must have done something terrible, angel.’

Your mouth clamps shut, lips flattening into a straight line.

‘Did you kill?’ Yoongi asks. ‘Maim?’

You barely react to his taunting tone.

‘Were you envious? Greedy?’

You’re quiet.

‘You’re not wrathful,’ Yoongi observes.

He waits until your eyes meet his.

‘That leaves pride, and lust?’

From the way your face tightens he knows he’s stumbled upon his answer.

Yoongi lets his eyes travel to your beautiful form in the sheer silk you’re draped in.

Your breasts press against the material, rounded, enticing, and as he looks, your nipples tighten visibly.

‘Ah,’ Yoongi says, voice dropped to barely a whisper. ‘He said you were lustful.’

Yoongi leans down, close to your cheek, and enjoys the way you shiver as he breathes on your skin.

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your skin, and your pupils dilate so much your eyes are practically black.

Your lips part on his name, and Yoongi, for the first time in a long while, feels a surge of lust.

You stay completely still as he touches your cheek.

‘What do you want from me, angel?’ Yoongi taunts. ‘Aren’t you fallen enough?’

Your breath trembles in your chest as his fingers tighten on your face.

‘Come,’ says Yoongi. ‘Show me how you fell.’

He lets go of your face to caress the swells of your breasts, and you gasp, but you don’t stop him.

Instead, you arch your back to press your breasts into his palms.

‘You want more?’ Yoongi asks. He knows you do.

He grasps the front of your gown, rips it all the way down.

Your thighs tighten on his hand as he reaches between your legs.

Yoongi’s hand explores you, leisurely, slow, until you’re twitching and trembling.

Your nipples are so sensitive now that when Yoongi rolls his tongue around one you buck your hips into his hand.

‘Uhngh,’ you moan.

Yoongi thumbs the bud at the top of your sex, and your warmth pulses around his fingers.

Wet, hot, tight.

Yoongi drags his tongue along the round of your breast, and your breathing hitches.

Your nipples are so puffy and erect they almost look painful.

You whine as he grasps your rounded flesh. The sound causes a stirring, low in his belly.

Yoongi’s cock swells at the sounds you make. You’re so pleasured, breathless, and he’s barely making any effort.

He’s already almost fully erect when your soft hand brushes the front of his groin.

‘Bold for an angel,’ he says.

There’s a spark in your eyes, clouded with lust.

‘How many angels have you defiled, Lord Min?’

Yoongi considers your question as his eyes roam your beautiful body.

‘None,’ he tells you.

You smile, and you’re so pretty he can’t take his eyes off you.

‘Luckily, I’m not an angel any more.’

Yoongi smirks. ‘Let me show you how the other side lives.’

He turns, and you follow.

***

You’re lost, Yoongi isn’t sure when it happened, probably between your fourth, maybe fifth peak.

He’s covered in your arousal, he can taste you on his lips, on his tongue. His cock’s still so rigid inside you he’s aching, caught in the delirium between pleasure and pain.

He plunges into your wet warmth, rocking his hips against yours.

Your arms are limp, one draped around his neck, just barely holding on, the other splayed out, fingers uncurled. You look dazed, fucked out, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

You cry out as Yoongi moves, dragging his cock against the walls of your cunt, and he notes with grim satisfaction how hoarse your voice now is.

‘Yoongi,’ you beg, ‘wanna feel you.’

‘You’ll feel me,’ he promises.

You shake your head. ‘I want to feel your pleasure.’

Yoongi groans as you hold your legs apart for him, letting him see exactly how he cleaves you apart , the way he looks entering your core.

He wraps a hand around your neck, tight, and your eyes close. Your hand snakes around his wrist, urging him on.

You’re clenching around him so sweetly Yoongi’s disarmed, and when you press a kiss to his temple he releases, shouting your name, spilling inside you.

Belatedly, he remembers to loosen his grip around your neck, and as you remain still he feels an unnerving wave of fear that he might have hurt you.

He says your name, and you stir. Relief floods through his chest.

‘Stay,’ you mumble into his chest. ‘Stay.’

Yoongi curls his arm around you, a display of skinship he’s unused to but that you seem to want.

He wonders, curious, why he’s swayed to want to give you what you want.

***

You wake during the night.

Yoongi’s flat on his back, arm propping up his head. He watches with dark amusement as you look your fill at his naked form.

‘You’re too wide-eyed considering you have my seed all over you,’ he drawls.

You blink at him. ‘I was surprised to wake, my lord.’

‘You thought I’d kill Azariel’s fallen daughter?’ Yoongi muses, not bothering to acknowledge how close to the truth you are.

‘You do have a reputation, Lord Min,’ you say, so seriously that it takes him a moment to realise you’re teasing him.

He’s startled into laughter that sounds rusty even to him.

You turn over, breasts spilling onto the silk bedcovers, lush and beautiful like you were made to tempt him.

His cock stirs, and it doesn’t escape your notice, minx that you are.

You reach for him, gentle, soft against his hardness.

Yoongi groans, eyes never leaving you as you stroke him. Your lips part on a breath, tongue flicking between. The cavern of your mouth feels like the heaven Yoongi will never know.

He’s never rued being born a demon prince until this moment.

Yoongi pulls you off his rigid shaft, seeks the warmth between your legs. You’re already gasping, spreading to take him, so soft and slick and willing he can barely hold himself back.

His hand finds its way around your neck again, squeezing, and the pleasure ramps up a thousandfold.

Your back arches as you peak, and this time Yoongi doesn’t have the patience to deny himself. He groans into your hair as he fills you, remembers to loosen his grip.

You’re emboldened to press a kiss to his lips, a moment of contact so searing Yoongi’s jolted out of his post-pleasure daze.

Neither of you speak, and neither of you makes a move to leave.

***

It’s just past dawn when Yoongi stirs to the back of your entirely naked body.

You’re getting re-dressed, helping yourself to his clothes.

‘I should go,’ you say.

Yoongi hadn’t realised you’d noticed he was awake.

Pandemonium has passed, but Yoongi finds he doesn’t care for any possibility that you might get hurt.

He rises, unclasps a chain from around his neck, fastens it around your own. The ancient rune now hanging between your collarbones is distinctly, identifiably, his.

There aren’t many who would seek his wrath.

‘My father will —--’

‘Rue the day he let you fall into the hands of a demon prince?’ suggests Yoongi.

The hint of a smile plays around your lips, and Yoongi can’t tear his eyes away.

‘I’ll be back,’ you say. There's a faint question in your voice.

‘See that you are,’ Yoongi replies.

You bow slightly. ‘My lord.’

You take your leave, and Yoongi allows himself to watch you go until you slip between two buildings, and then you’re gone.

748 notes · View notes

hamsterclaw · 19 days ago

Text

fanfic writing culture isn’t “oh dang! I wanted to write about this prompt with this character but someone else already wrote it, so now I can’t”.

fanfic writing culture is always “two cakes is better than one. the more the merrier. there can ever be enough fics of this character with this prompt!”

#the best thing

46K notes · View notes

hamsterclaw · 19 days ago

Text

The Catch

Your daughter is the most important person in your life. Her father? Not so much. He's been away for years, and now he wants to come back.

Pairing: Seokjin x F!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 17k total

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff, teenage pregnancy

Warnings: Single parenthood, sex and swearing

Part 1

Part 2

Epilogue

285 notes · View notes

hamsterclaw · 20 days ago

Text

Humbug

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 1 - read the rest here.

Paediatrician Dr Jung Hoseok is beloved by all his patients and everyone he works with. Unfortunately, his cheerful demeanour is only a front, underneath it all, he's a humbug.

Pairing: Hoseok x f! reader

Genre: Paediatrician Hoseok, social worker reader, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, medical emergencies

Hoseok looks up from the computer screen at the sound of his name. His eyes take a moment to adjust, the screen’s the brightest light in the otherwise darkened paediatric ward.

The nurse, Jihyo, holds out a mug of coffee, just how he likes it.

Hoseok accepts gratefully, stares at the words on the side of the mug.

Big patience for little patients.

He blinks, indifferent, and goes back to prescribing.

His phone rings, muted because it’s 3am but he can hear it loud and clear.

He lifts it to his ear. ‘Dr Jung,’ he says by way of greeting.

‘You’re needed in the ER,’ comes the crisp tone of the ER charge nurse.

Hoseok sighs, doesn’t bother to ask why. ‘I’ll be there in 5.’

He hangs up, signs the chart and gulps the rest of his coffee, scorching his tongue and the roof of his mouth but preferring the burn to the desolate pang of his empty stomach.

The dry sandwich he’d bolted at 6pm the day before is nothing but a distant memory, churning its partially digested way through his intestines.

He takes a shortcut to the ER, cutting through the works alley between buildings.

Ironic that he has to pass the unofficial smoker’s alley to get fresh air.

Kim Namjoon, his friend and the resident cardiothoracics surgeon, nods and waves a vape pen at him in greeting.

Hoseok lifts a hand back, pushes the back entrance door open that someone’s propped open with a brick, hospital security be damned, re-enters the hospital next to the mortuary.

He glances askance at the double doors. It always makes him feel a little twitchy passing the morgue in the early hours of the morning.

He reminds himself he’s a grown adult as he picks up the pace, allows himself a little sigh of relief as he turns the corner and sees the bright lights of radiology.

He’s greeted by a cacophony of noises as he enters the ER, monitors beeping, people barking out instructions, distant sirens as ambulances pull up to the drop off.

He narrows his eyes against the fluorescent white strip lighting, looking around for the charge nurse’s familiar navy tunic.

He spots her by the resus bay, grimaces a bit at the carnage from a trauma that hasn’t been cleaned up.

‘Called for a paediatric consult?’

The charge nurse nods, brisk, waves an arm in the vague direction of the paediatric area.

‘15 year old, intoxicated.’

With that she’s off, and Hoseok trudges away.

The atmosphere in the paediatric area is less jarring, not so much because of the cheerful murals on the walls, but because it’s quieter, less hectic.

Hoseok assesses a teenager in a glittery jumpsuit who smells so strongly of alcohol and hairspray he reminds him of his own high school leaving prom.

He does an assessment, makes the mistake of asking the teen if he wants a drink on his way out of the exam room.

The teen chortles gleefully.

‘Yeah, gin and tonic, hold the tonic!’

Hoseok rolls his eyes as he exits.

He’s looking for a free computer to write up his notes when there’s movement in the periphery of his vision.

‘Need a computer?’ you ask.

Hoseok blinks to wake himself up. You’re way too pretty considering the early hour. Judging by your attire, more casual than smart, your carelessly styled hair, he makes an educated guess.

‘Are you with social services?’

‘Y/N, duty social worker,’ you confirm, nodding towards the exam room he’s just exited. ‘Jaebeom’s one of ours.’

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks. ‘I’m Hoseok, paediatrics. I’m admitting him until he sobers up.’

You nod. ‘His foster carer can pick him up in the morning, she’s got another child that she needs to drop off at school.’

You look around, yawning delicately behind your hand. ‘Is there a place to get coffee around here at this time?’

There’s an on-call room waiting for him, a bed, but Hoseok doesn’t hesitate.

‘If you have five minutes for me to write up my notes, I can take you to the lounge?’

You give him a look he doesn’t bother to interpret, it’s now 4am and if you say no he can always go to bed.

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Thanks.’

Hoseok types up his notes with you sitting in one of the empty chairs in the otherwise deserted paediatric department.

When he logs off he’s amused to find you engrossed in sorting shapes to slot into a sphere.

‘I can give you a few more minutes if you want,’ he says, dry.

You laugh. ‘I’ll be quicker once I’ve had caffeine.’

You follow him down the corridor towards the main hospital to the lounge.

Hoseok swipes his ID badge, pushes the door open.

You take in the ancient mismatched couches, the big screen TV, the tiny kitchenette with the top-of-the-line coffee machine, the chipped mugs drying next to the sink.

‘So this is how doctors roll, huh?’ you say.

Hoseok laughs. ‘Yeah baby, stick with me and I’ll show you a good time.’

He waggles his eyebrows, and you burst out laughing.

Hoseok’s struck by your smile and the way your eyes light up. He clears his throat, tells himself to stop staring at you like a creep.

‘Latte?’ he offers, picking up the nicest mug he can see.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ you say.

You’re fishing in your bag, emerging with a half-opened package of cookies.

He exchanges your coffee for a cookie, gestures to one of the couches.

He’s not expecting you to sit next to him, there’s plenty of space, but after a moment, you choose the seat beside him.

You sip your coffees in silence.

‘Been busy?’ you ask.

‘Yeah, a little,’ Hoseok replies.

Up close like this, he can see the tiny piercings in your ear, the gleam of gold through the fall of your hair.

Again, he pulls himself together with effort.

‘Have you been busy?’ he asks.

You stretch a little. ‘Yeah. We’re short-staffed, like always. Also something about the cold weather makes people be shits to each other.’

Hoseok’s not surprised. Winter’s always hard, fuck Christmas spirit and all that jazz.

‘I hear you,’ he says.

You sip your coffee, offer him another cookie which he accepts.

Your phone rings in your bag, you glance at him as you fish your phone out.

‘Duty calls,’ you say ruefully. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’

Hoseok’s about to bid you goodbye when you lean towards him, close, thumb brushing a corner of his mouth so quickly he barely registers it before you’re pulling your hand away.

‘Crumbs,’ you say. There’s the tiniest twinkle in your eye.

Hoseok’s voice comes out raspy as he says, ‘Thanks.’

‘See you around, doc.’

You’re not waiting for an answer, shouldering your bag, tossing him one last look on your way out.

Hoseok leans back against the couch, willing his heartrate to decelerate.

Outside, the darkest part of the night’s just about over.

***

Hoseok’s working hard to keep his bright smile on today.

He’s had a parent ask him if he has kids and then tell him he couldn’t possibly understand how precious their child is, as he doesn’t have children of his own.

He got an email from a conference he’s applied to saying due to the huge number of applicants, his abstract wasn’t selected for presentation.

His intern, Hyunjin, seems to be on a mission to aggravate him as much as possible.

‘We need a derm consult,’ Hyunjin tells him at the end of presenting the patient he’s just seen.

Hoseok closes his eyes briefly, desperately summoning what remains of his rapidly dwindling stores of patience.

‘Why do we need a derm consult, Dr Park?’ he tries not to bark.

‘This patient has verrucas.’

Hoseok blinks, takes a breath.

‘This patient needs nebulised albuterol and oxygen and an admission to paediatrics. The verrucas can wait until he gets better and the mom can stop by a pharmacy for some over-the-counter verruca treatment.’

Hyunjin stares at him.

‘He’s satting in the low nineties,’ Hoseok points out, words coming out brisk, staccato. ‘I can hear him wheezing from here.’

The ER nurse behind Hyunjin’s already tutting and prepping the neb.

‘Was there anything else, Hyunjin?’ Hoseok asks, getting up, staring at the rapidly expanding list of patients waiting for a paediatric consult.

His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a sigh.

‘Dr Jung,’ he says.

‘Is that Hoseok?’

The voice is vaguely familiar, but he can’t place it.

‘Depends who’s asking,’ he snaps.

‘It’s Y/N, the social worker. You got me coffee last week at 4am?’

Hoseok has a flash of a memory, of your hand on his face.

‘Shit, sorry,’ he says, running a hand through his hair, already sticking straight up in all directions, courtesy of the shitty haircut he got in the barbershop on his way in.

‘Rough day, huh?’ you say, the sympathy in your voice making warmth bloom in his chest.

‘Yeah.’

‘I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner after work today,’ you ask, no preamble, so direct Hoseok takes a moment to process.

‘I’d love to,’ he says. ‘I don’t get off until 8, though.’

‘I finish at 8 too,’ you say. ‘That works for me.’

You exchange numbers, and you promise to text him details.

‘Hope your day gets better, Dr Jung,’ you say, the teasing note in your voice making him smile, genuinely, for the first time, today.

‘It already is,’ he says.

He’s still smiling when he hangs up.

‘Hoseok,’ comes a voice from behind him.

Hoseok raises a brow inquiringly at Hyunjin, who, inexplicably, is still standing there.

‘About the verrucas,’ begins Hyunjin.

‘Nope,’ Hoseok says, pleasantly, still smiling.

He brushes past Hyunjin and picks up the next consult.

***

It’s ten to eight and thank fuck for that, because Hoseok’s had enough of today.

He’s getting changed out of the scrubs he was forced to change into after he was projectile vomited on by a chubby 10 month old, grateful he has spare clothes in his locker, when the door to the changing rooms opens.

Hoseok pauses, shirtless, hands on the tie of his scrubs bottoms.

Hyunjin blinks at him.

‘Nice abs, boss,’ he says.

Hoseok eyes both the fluffy white tee he was about to change into and the scrubs top he’s just discarded, questioning why he ever thought going into medicine was a good idea.

He grits his teeth.

‘Yes, Hyunjin?’

‘There’s a blue light call - breathless five year old, ETA 3 minutes.’

‘Jisoo is on tonight, let her know,’ Hoseok replies. ‘Also, close the door, damnit.’

Hyunjin looks surprised at the three medical students who have clustered behind him, all of whom are staring at Hoseok wide-eyed.

‘Jisoo’s going to be twenty minutes late, something about a train breakdown?’

Hyunjin’s got the wisdom to stay out of Hoseok’s reach.

Hoseok’s hand lands on his soft t-shirt, longingly.

With a sigh, he bypasses it and reaches for his scrubs top, pulling it over his head.

‘I’ll be right there,’ he says.

***

By the time Hoseok’s assessed the breathless patient and handed over to an apologetic Jisoo, the time on the clock on the wall says 9pm.

Hoseok pulls his phone out, dials your number.

You answer on the first ring.

Without waiting for him to say anything, you say, ‘The food’s still hot, I took the liberty of ordering for you. Are you on your way?’

Hoseok breathes out, a sigh of relief so profound he feels lightheaded.

‘Marry me,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’

He gets dressed in record time, emerges out of the carnage of the ER like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

You’re the first person he sees when he gets to the restaurant, and you’re the best thing he’s seen all day.

He greets you with a hug and a cheek kiss that you weren’t expecting, judging by the shy smile on your pretty face.

‘I —’ you start, then you stop, adorably flustered.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Hoseok says. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day.’

‘I was just going to say I ordered tempura that’s on its way,’ you say.

‘I’m sorry I’m so late,’ Hoseok says. He’s got his hand on yours on the table without any memory of how it got there, but he likes the feel of it.

‘Make it up to me,’ you say, easy.

‘I’m going to do my best,’ he promises.

***

At least four people have seen Hoseok’s bare chest today, but you’re the only person he cares about impressing, at least right at this moment.

Because holy fuck, you’re beautiful, pressed tight to him on your poky couch, mouth on his, lips and teeth clashing as he kisses you over and over.

You’re making noises that are driving him slightly crazy, making him feel hot and desperate, and he has to stop himself from looking at your tits in that black bra or he’s going to embarrass himself.

Shit.

Your hand’s slid down, brushing over his dick, and he’s so hard already he has to will himself not to nut right now.

He tugs experimentally at the strap of your bra, and when you don’t protest he tugs it down, cups the weight of your left breast.

God, you feel so good. Soft, warm, exposed nipple begging to be kissed.

He runs his thumb over your areola, a slow pass.

The low moan you let out gives him the confidence to scrape the tip of his nail over the peak of your breast.

‘God, take it off, Hoseok,’ you tell him, and Hoseok’s sure as hell not going to make you ask twice.

He slides a hand around your bare back, unhooks your bra, can’t stop himself from looking.

His dick, already trying to stand at attention in its denim prison, twitches at the sight of your bared breasts.

Hoseok’s trying to remember what colour briefs he has on, if it’ll be obvious when he takes his jeans off that he’s leaking precum just from looking at your tits.

Then you cup the length of him over his jeans, and he finds he doesn’t give a fuck.

Your skirt’s ridden up, your thighs part under his hand encouragingly.

You’re so soft Hoseok can’t suppress a groan.

He hooks a couple fingers under the gusset of your panties, tugs, and your hand lands on his.

Hoseok looks up, hand stilling.

Hoseok’s been told that he has a gorgeous smile, but just at this moment, you’re the one who’s blinding him.

‘You can touch,’ you say, voice husky, teeth in your bottom lip.

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks, his own voice raspy, dropped low.

‘Yeah.’

‘Can I taste?’

You help him tug your panties down, over the curve of your ass that he can’t resist squeezing.

He tugs the flimsy cotton down your thighs, helps you slide a leg out.

He realises, belatedly, that you never answered his question, but you don’t seem to mind as he bends down, flicks his tongue against your pretty cunt.

Damn, you sound even prettier when he’s eating you out.

Hoseok licks into your folds, nudges your clit.

He doesn’t have any hangups about giving head, especially not in a girl like you who seems to enjoy everything he’s doing.

‘Shit, Hoseok,’ you moan, breathless, eyes squeezed shut.

He pushes a finger into you, curls it, and you cry out so loudly his cock hardens even more.

He tugs at the button fly of his jeans, loosening them for a little relief.

‘Please tell me you have a condom,’ you plead, voice thick, so sexy Hoseok can’t believe you’re under him like this.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you come and I’ll fuck you?’

‘Fuck me now,’ you tell him.

Hoseok seals his lips around your clit, flicks his tongue, slips another finger into you, scissoring, pressing, slow, making every movement count.

‘Hoseok!’

He doesn’t reply, because he can tell by the way your thighs are shaking that you’re close.

He just needs another minute.

He doesn’t know if you’ve realised that your fingers are in his hair, pulling, but he’s taking it as a positive.

He keeps doing what he’s doing with his tongue, because you seem to like it.

Your cunt tightens around his fingers, you call his name again, buck your hips into his face, and Hoseok doesn’t even need you to tell him you’re coming because he can feel you pulsing, can hear it in your voice, can feel the way everything tightens as you reach your peak.

It’s the hottest thing he’s seen in a while.

Fuck.

Hoseok draws himself out of jeans, takes himself in hand, pumps once.

You haven’t forgotten him.

‘Get inside, Hoseok,’ you say, and as he fishes the condom out of his jeans you flip it out of his grasp and rip it with your teeth.

Hoseok closes his eyes as you squeeze the tip and roll it onto his dick, concentrating on not coming in your grasp.

You push him back onto the couch, get on top of him, and Hoseok could weep at the view.

Your hair’s a mess, your lips bitten and flushed, and goddamn, your tits need to be in a museum.

He doesn’t realise he’s said that last bit out loud until you burst out laughing.

‘Shut up, Hoseok,’ you tell him, but you’re still riding him so there’s that.

Hoseok grabs your hips, helps you move even though you’re doing a pretty damn good job already.

‘You like this, Hoseok?’ you ask.

Hoseok flexes his cock inside you. ‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘I like it too.’

‘Yeah?’

You lean forward, tits bouncing in front of his face, and Hoseok thinks that if he died right now, smothered in between your breasts, he wouldn’t mind one bit.

‘Go on, baby, take what you want,’ you say.

Hoseok bucks his hips hard, up into the wet warmth of your cunt, tugs your head down to kiss you deep, open-mouthed, and comes with a groan, deep in his chest.

Bliss.

***

Hoseok wakes in a bed he doesn’t remember getting into, a bedroom that he finds soothing, with its neutral colours and soft sunlight filtering in the crack between the curtains.

There’s an arm flung across his chest, the soft curve of a breast against his chest.

You’re turned away, boneless, in a deep sleep.

His incorrigible cock stirs as he takes in the line of your back, down to the tempting curve of your ass.

He spots the clock on the wall, groans when he realises he should really be up now if he wants to get to work on time.

You’re still dead asleep even after he’s fully dressed, splayed out in the sheets, gloriously naked.

Hoseok pulls the duvet over your bare shoulder, resists the urge to kiss your upturned cheek, and makes sure the door’s locked behind him as he leaves.

***

Hoseok tightens his scarf around his neck as he waits for you at the entrance to the Christmas market you’ve managed to convince him to accompany you to.

The fact is, he hates the cold, he thinks all Christmas markets are gimmicky and overpriced, and after a run of incredibly busy shifts, he’d much rather be in bed with you right now than here.

Hoseok sidesteps neatly as he’s approached by a jovial couple dressed as Father Christmas and Mrs Klaus.

He’s about to pull his phone out to check on you when you hurry up to him, tuck your arm in his.

‘Hobi! You weren’t waiting long, were you?’

Hoseok looks at your bright smile and can’t bring himself to say anything other than ‘no, not long.’

Your lips are cold, but the kiss you plant on his cheek, next to his mouth, goes a long way towards improving his mood.

He doesn’t even give the three elves handing out tiny candy canes a dirty look.

‘Crepes?’ you suggest, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the longest queue is in front of the crepe stand.

‘Sure,’ Hoseok agrees.

You get in line and immediately turn to him, sliding your arms around his waist, under his coat.

‘How’ve you been?’ you ask.

Hoseok and you have met up a couple times over the last three weeks, enough that he’s left a spare shirt and some toiletries at your place.

You’re sweet, and fun, and he hopes you like him as much as he’s starting to like you.

‘I’m better now,’ he says, just so he can admire the glow of your smile.

‘You’re cheesy,’ you say, but the brightness in your eyes tells him you don’t mind.

‘Nah,’ Hoseok replies. ‘You dragged us to this Christmas market, I know you’ve got your eye on one of those tacky reindeer tree ornaments, you don’t get to call me cheesy.’

‘I like the blue one,’ you say, conceding so easily Hoseok has to smile.

‘Wait here, I’ll go and get it,’ he says.

‘What crepe do you want?’ you ask, as he pulls away.

‘Surprise me,’ he tells you.

Hoseok walks over to the ornament stall you’ve been eyeing for the past five minutes, picks out the blue ornament, hesitates over the collection of tiny gold Christmas bauble earrings.

He makes a decision, pays, shoves his purchases into his coat pocket and walks back to you.

You hold a crepe out to him, and he accepts with a ‘thanks’, taking the warm paper-wrapped bundle out of your hand and taking a bite.

The warm melted chocolate floods his taste buds, and he tries not to moan at the gooey sweetness of it.

‘Good, right?’ you ask. ‘Worth the wait.’

You’re not waiting for an answer, skipping ahead, heading for the chestnuts and hot chocolate like you’re a walking Christmas cliche.

Hoseok follows behind you. He finds he doesn’t really mind.

***

You stick your key in the lock, unlock the door to your apartment, don’t bother with the lights before you turn around and slide your hands up Hoseok’s chest, fingers tucked under the lapels of his coat.

Hoseok doesn’t have a lot to say, not when you’re looking up at him, lips pouted for a kiss.

He slips a hand around the back of your neck, cupping your head, and tilts his head down to yours.

‘Mmmm,’ you murmur. ‘You taste like chocolate.’

Hoseok leans down again, kisses you deep, tongue sliding into your mouth.

‘It’s cold,’ he says. ‘Warm me up.’

He’s only half-serious, having you pressed against him like this is doing a hell of a job of warming him up.

The wicked gleam in your eye gets him the rest of the way.

‘Come on. Want to take a bath?’ you ask.

Hoseok makes out with you in front of the mirror in your bathroom whilst the tub fills, is a short second away from guiding his cock between your legs when you pull away, bend over in front of him to test the temperature.

‘Get in,’ you say, and Hoseok’s always been good at following instructions.

He slides into the warm heat of the bath, groans at the feel of it, reaches out to steady you as you climb in on top of him, right into his lap, impatient like he feels.

You look so good bare and wet like this, the steam making tendrils of your hair curl against your neck, the tops of your breasts visible above the water line. Hoseok hadn’t thought he could get any harder but he does.

‘Sit on me,’ he says, and there’s a slosh of water, wet skin against wet skin, and then the slippery warmth of your cunt, taking him in.

The tips of your breasts jiggle in front of him as you move, and between the tightness of your walls around him and the prettiness of your moans, Hoseok’s in heaven.

He slips a hand around your hips, helping you ride him, and curls his hand around your breast, lifting it out of the water so he can suck.

You cry his name as he flicks his tongue over your nipple, and Hoseok squeezes the flesh of your hip, tight, under the water.

Your rhythm’s erratic but it’s making the pleasure build, short, tight circles of your hips against his.

‘Hoseok,’ you moan.

‘Yeah?’ he mumbles, lips around the peak of your breast.

He flexes his cock inside you, hums in satisfaction at the way your face goes slack, eyes half closed.

Shit, you look so pretty in the throes of pleasure.

Hoseok slides a hand up, fingers curling around your neck, thumb pressed into the hollow between your collarbones.

Your voice is hoarse now, raspy like his, as he urges, ‘Go on, take it.’

He presses down, you gasp, and lose your rhythm entirely as you come around his cock, walls spasming around him.

Hoseok takes over, fucking you through it, hardening until he comes with a low grunt.

Wet, slick, warm.

You’re tired, he can tell, the way you’re slumping against his chest.

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’ll wash us off.’

He coaxes you into your shower with him, soaps over the marks he’s made on your skin, wraps you into a towel.

By the time you’re both in bed, you’re more asleep than awake.

‘Work tomorrow?’ you ask.

‘I’m working,’ Hoseok tells you. ‘Want me to set an alarm for you?’

He doesn’t get an answer, you’re asleep on his chest already.

He should get up, switch some lights off, but a moment later, he’s asleep too.

***

Hoseok never thought he’d see the day he would want Hyunjin to be around, but he’s getting slammed, and the way things are looking, he needs all hands on deck.

He’s jogging down the corridor to his second emergency call for the day despite it being only 10am. It’s busy even for the holidays.

‘House fire,’ barks Mira, the ER charge nurse as Hoseok snaps on gloves. ‘Three children, five minutes out.’

‘How bad?’ asks Hoseok, prepping an IV access kit.

‘PICU are aware, they’re sending backup when they can but they’ve got their own internal collapse, they’re dealing with an arrest on the neurosurgical ward,’ Mira replies.

The doors slide open, and Hoseok can already tell from the looks on the paramedics’ faces that it’s not looking good.

Fucking hell, where’s Hyunjin, what a day to be in resus training instead of on the floor.

The second patient’s wheeled in as the first is still being parked, and Hoseok’s surprised to see you accompanying them, covered in soot, but he doesn’t have time to process now.

All he can do is deal with what’s in front of him, so that’s what he does.

***

It’s well into the afternoon by the time all three patients are stabilised and wheeled up to the PICU.

Hoseok’s washing his hands mechanically in one of the resus sinks, buying his brain some time to come down from the adrenaline of the last few hours, when he hears his name called.

‘Hey,’ you say, holding out a cup to him.

Hoseok takes a big gulp of the steaming hot coffee. There’s sugar in it, he doesn’t usually have sugar in his coffee, but today it goes down smooth, giving him a much-needed glucose boost.

He drinks most of it before he can muster a ‘Thanks.’

You don’t seem to be in a hurry.

You’ve cleaned most of the soot off your face, but your top is ruined.

Belatedly, Hoseok notices a plaster on your arm, remembers that you came in with the ambulance crew and the three kids.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

‘I’m fine,’ you say. ‘I was just outside the house when the gas oven imploded. I saw the kids in the window and got them out.’

Hoseok blinks. He hadn’t been expecting that.

‘You ran into a burning house?’

You frown a bit. ‘It wasn’t burning then, there was just smoke everywhere.’

You cough, and he notices that your voice is a little hoarse.

‘Besides, I was right there and I saw the kids, I couldn’t leave them.’

‘Shit,’ Hoseok says. He pulls you into a hug. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Do you think they’re going to be ok?’ you ask, resting your head on his chest.

‘I hope so,’ Hoseok says.

He pulls away. ‘Did they check your carbon monoxide levels?’

You laugh, and the tension in his chest eases a little. ‘Yes, doc, I’ve been cleared for discharge.’

You grab his hand, squeeze. ‘I’m probably doing better than you right now.’

‘This is why I hate Christmas,’ Hoseok blurts out.

You’re looking at him, but you don’t say anything, and he can’t stop anyway.

‘Everyone goes on about Christmas and goodwill and people helping each other and yet the same shit happens as the rest of the year. It means nothing, just a commercial holiday that big companies use to make money out of dumb people.’

‘It’s bullshit,’ Hoseok says.

‘My parents feel the same as you,’ you say. You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. ‘They never celebrated the holidays.’

‘They had the right idea,’ Hoseok agrees.

‘When do you get off today?’ you ask. ‘I can make us dinner, if you want.’

‘I don’t think I’ll be good company,’ Hoseok says, honestly.

‘You’re welcome, even if you’re the biggest grinch in the world,’ you say, with a sweetness that makes warmth bloom in his chest.

‘I’m not a grinch,’ he says, half-heartedly.

‘A humbug, then,’ you say.

You reach out and touch his cheek.

‘Come over, later, if you want.’

***

Hoseok finds himself outside your apartment after his shift, wondering if you really wanted him to come over.

You don’t keep him waiting long, soon enough you’re opening the door, handing him a glass of wine, putting food in front of him.

Hoseok hasn’t even so much as showered, he came straight from work.

You notice him looking at the half-decorated Christmas tree you’ve got in your lounge, the open box of ornaments next to it.

‘I like Christmas,’ you say. ‘I thought I’d cheer myself up by putting up a tree.’

You seem to be worried about his reaction, so Hoseok grasps your hand.

‘Just because I’m a grinch doesn’t mean you have to be,’ he says.

You smile. ‘My parents never had a tree and I always wanted one.’

The food and the wine are going a long way towards making Hoseok feel normal again after his day.

‘Are you going to see them for Christmas?’ he asks.

There’s a brief shadow across your face, so quick he isn’t sure if he saw it.

‘They’re doing relief work in South Sudan,’ you say. ‘They’re doctors too.’

You ask, ‘Are you away for Christmas?’

‘Yeah, my parents and sister are upstate. I’ll drive up to them.’

‘Are they grinches like you are?’ you ask, teasing.

Hoseok laughs. ‘I’m the only grinch in the family. My mother goes all out, and my sister loves Christmas too.’

‘Sounds amazing,’ you say, a hint of wistfulness in your tone.

Your top’s slipped down over your shoulder, and between the way your skin gleams and the way your lips are stained from the wine, you’re so pretty Hoseok’s distracted.

He reaches out, tugging you into his arms.

‘Can I take a shower?’ he asks.

‘Sure,’ you say. The mischievous twinkle is back in your eyes now. ‘Want company?’

‘Always,’ Hoseok says.

***

For once, you’re up before him the next morning.

He must have been more tired than he realised.

You’re fastening your bra in a feat of dexterity he’s always admired.

‘Shame I missed the show,’ he says, his voice raspy in the darkness of your bedroom.

‘Happens every morning,’ you say. ‘You’ve got an invite every time.’

Hoseok laughs, rolls over, sheet around his waist.

‘What time is it?’ he asks, propping his arm behind his head, looking out the crack in the window as the snow falling outside.

‘It’s 6am on Christmas eve,’ you tell him.

‘Shit, I gotta pack for tonight,’ he says.

You pull a sweater on over a tee, sit on the edge of the bed to put socks on.

‘I probably won’t see you until after the holidays, huh?’

‘I’m back in a couple days,’ Hoseok says, hand on the small of your back where your sweater’s ridden up.

‘Yeah. Merry Christmas, Hobi. Eat all the turkey for me.’

‘I don’t even like turkey,’ he says, honestly.

You laugh, amused, and cup his cheek. ‘See you after Christmas, grinch. There’s coffee in the kitchen.’

Your goodbye kiss makes him want to pull you back into bed with him.

***

Hoseok pulls up outside his parents’ house, rubs the back of his neck, trying to get the crick out.

He can see the living room and kitchen lights are on, and he already knows that when he opens the front door and steps in he’ll be greeted with familiar smells.

Cinnamon. Fresh bread. The chicken dish his eomma always makes the night before Christmas.

He realises with a start that he never thought to ask you what you’d be doing for Christmas.

He’d spent an hour finishing decorating your tree after you left your apartment, so that you’d have a fully-decked out tree when you came back from work today, and had only belatedly realised that perhaps you’d have had fun decorating the tree together.

He’d put the earrings he got you under the tree, hung the gloriously tacky blue ornament he’d picked up for you at the Christmas market.

He’d packed the red lace panties you’d tossed merrily in his face when you’d stripped for him the night before, in the shower.

Shit, maybe that was a creep thing to do.

Too late now.

The front door opens, and his sister stands in the doorway.

‘Come on, what’s taking you so long,’ she asks.

‘Coming,’ Hoseok says.

He grabs his bag out the trunk and goes inside.

***

Hoseok wonders if he’s even in the right place.

You’d once told him, offhand, that you often volunteer at the shelter close to your apartment on Christmas day, and when he’d gone to your apartment and you weren’t in, he’d driven here.

It’s a women’s shelter, and he’s trying to make himself look as harmless as possible as he waits to be let in.

A woman dressed in a light-up jumper opens the door, eyes him suspiciously.

Hoseok has a sudden feeling that he’s made a terrible mistake.

It’s too late now.

‘I’m Hoseok, I’m a friend of Y/N’s. Is she here?’ he asks

To his relief, the woman’s face transforms into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

‘You’re the doctor friend she keeps telling us about! Come in, she’s here.’

The woman grasps him by the arm, pulls him in out of the snow.

‘She’s helping in the kitchen, you can help too, if you want.’

‘Sure,’ Hoseok says. Her grip on his arm is strong, there’s no way he’s going to say no.

He’s led to an industrial looking kitchen, dated but clean, greeted by the sounds of chatter and Christmas classics.

There’s mess everywhere, like Santa exploded, but all that falls away when he sees you.

You look up, spot him, and the smile on your face makes him smile too. He probably looks like an idiot, here grinning at you, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

You get up, and then somehow you’re in his arms, the reindeer headband you have on poking him in the jaw but he’s still not bothered.

There’s heckling, teasing, whooping, but all he sees and hears is you.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, holding him so tightly he can barely breathe.

He likes it.

‘I forgot to wish you Merry Christmas,’ he says.

‘Merry Christmas, humbug.’

Hoseok wants to argue that he’s not a humbug, not really, but you’re kissing him, so he shuts up and kisses you back instead.

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