#agustd locks

[prplocks]

♡☆♡ agust d wallpaper

reblog if you save ▪︎

-----------------------------------------------------------

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule V

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: tysm for all your support! Our Agustd is now…showing.

Masterlist, Latibule IV

��What the fuck is that?”

You turned around to glare at the man with a confused look. Suga was looking down, observing what he called ‘that’ with his brows furrowed and his eyes squinted. He could not have looked any more disgusted and confused than he did at the very moment.

You briskly walked to him, flashing him a tight smile before pulling his arm so he could follow you, however reluctantly. You stopped dragging him when the two of you reached the kitchen. You looked up at him while he was busy looking down at your hand that was trying so hard to encircle his thick wrist with a look of a somewhat confusion. Suga couldn’t, for the life of him, answer why he felt something he didn’t want to name. And now, you were too aware of the feel of his skin, of how thick his wrist was, and of how the heat emitting from his skin felt good. You were much too aware of him.

And upon realization, you dropped his wrist carelessly as though it burned you. “That-“ you pointed your finger to the living room while glaring daggers at him. “-is a child.”

He frowned, his dark locks falling on his face as he look down at you. “Fine. Why the fuck is a child here, angel?”

You sighed in exasperation, explaining to him as patiently as you could that his father asked you to look out for his child because he had to travel for work, to which he rolled his eyes dramatically.

See, this was why you thought he was similar to a cat. He hated people, he hated morning, and he hated being hungry.

Was it morning? Check.

Was there another person in your house today? Check.

Had he not eaten yet? Check.

“That’s free childcare, angel! You should charge for it!”

“He’s my friend!”

“And?”

“And this is a favor! Have you not heard of that? Are you not familiar with the concept?”

Oh, he knew favor. He knew a lot of people owed him one and he was going to collect all of them soon.

“Do you hate children? Is that it?” You asked again when he failed to answer you, stepping closer to him to annoy him further. You didn’t know why you found it so entertaining to see him lost his cool, or how his face scrunched up when he was annoyed. But he stood his ground. He looked down at you, his lips tilted to the side as he focused his dark eyes on you.

“No. I hate people in general.” But he didn’t hate you. He wasn’t put off by your existence. He wasn’t happy when you were away for too long. But these were the things he would never admit to himself.

Nope.

“Well, he’s staying here until tomorrow. Be kind! Or else!”

He had the audacity to look affronted as though he wouldn’t do the exact opposite of what you asked of him. Right now would be the prime example.

“Who are you?” Suga asked him once the two of you returned to the living room where the child was happily watching cartoons. He was looking at the child as though be was dangerous when

“I’m Jackson,” he answered back, his little arms folded on his front as he looked up at the man questioning him with an equally defiant glare. “Who are you?”

Suga turned to you, his eyes in disbelief at what he heard. “He named his child his name?”

You blinked twice, unable to even defend your friend. But you didn’t have to. His child got his sassiness, after all.

“Your name please, ahjussi,” he repeated as he tapped his foot on the ground in obvious irritation at the older man. This was the first time he saw Suga and he automatically hated him. You were his favorite aunt, albeit you were the only aunt he had. But still! He thought you were too beautiful for the man you called your fiancé. He thought he didn’t deserve you.

“Ajhussi?” He repeated in disbelief as he squinted his eyes at the child. “I’m…Suga.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“Yah! What kind of name is Jackson?! Can’t your father think of another name? Is he that-“

You could feel a headache coming as you listened to them bicker. “Guys-“

“My friends said I have a nice name!”

“Yeah? Well, they’re lying to you!”

“At least I have friends! You look like you have enemies!”

Well, he wasn’t wrong though, Suga thought as he paused. He’d give this round to the kid. But he would return with a vengeance.

“Noona,” the young Jackson turned to look at you with his puppy eyes and an adorable pout on his lips that you couldn’t help but cooed at him and opened your arms so he could hug you.

He wrapped his little arms around your middle before whining at you. “Are you sure that man is who you want to be with? There are better guys out there, noona,” he said as he turned his head to glare at the other man.

“Yah!”

To which, he just stuck his tongue out.

“Angel, why is he still here? Can’t his mother take care of him?! Or did his mother also find him insufferable?”

“Suga!” You reprimanded him as you felt the child’s small body shook with impending tears. You glared at the man before hugging the now wailing child. For heaven’s sake, did he really have to fight with a child?! “Are you a child?! You should know better!”

“What?! He started it!”

“His mother…passed away,” you whispered the last part, feeling sorry for the child who never knew his mother. You thought that this was why he was somehow too attached with you. You were the only female figure in his life because his father refused to date anyone. He had said one night when you asked him why he never dated despite it being years already and he only said that he found the one. That his wife was it, that anyone would only fail in comparison to her.

You thought it was sad to have found your soulmate, only for her to be taken from your grasp forever, to be only left with memories that would fade in time, to be the only one whose love had no where else to go.

Suga’s eyes widened in realization, his gaze on you as what you said sunk in. He always knew he was an asshole, an abomination of a greedy man. He knew he was all that was wrong in mankind, but God, seeing that child cried his heart out displaced him. It felt…wrong. Was he developing a fucking conscience? Was this safe place making him soft?

Were you making him a better man?

He turned his dark eyes on the weeping child before he stood up. He clapped the child’s shoulder, “If you stop crying, I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

You watched the two in front of you devoured their ice cream like it was the end of the world. After fighting like vicious animals, they were sitting in front of you quietly as though they never said hurtful things to one another. You didn’t know that Suga even know this place. You thought that he must probably roamed around the town while you were at work and must have familiarized himself with the town. When he said that he knew a place, this was the last place you thought. This was the most colorful place in the whole town and it was also the loudest with pop songs playing on the speaker and children running all over the place. He was too in contrast with the aesthetic of the place with his all-black clothes and the emotionless face he was showing to the world.

You looked up to watch them again when you caught him already looking intently at you- or more specifically, your ice cream. “What?”

You ordered what you considered the normal flavor, chocolate and cookies and cream which were your favorite, while they ordered fruit-flavored ice cream. Suga thought it was peculiar that you didn’t eat fruits and you said he was weirder for fighting with a kid, to which he had no comeback for.

“I want your ice cream,” he announced as though it was his birth right to receive everything he ever desired.

“Suga- we talked about this.”

“About what?” He asked absentmindedly as he reached his spoon to your side when you slapped his hand away.

“What’s the magic word?”

He glared at you, his jaw clenched uncaring if he was bringing the vibe of the place down, or that he looked like an angry kitten.

“It’s ‘please’, ahjussi,” Jackson quipped up, looking up at the man sitting beside him with doe eyes. “Did you not know that?”

“Yes, Suga, did you not know that?” You asked him with faux confusion, batting your eyelashes at him annoyingly.

“May I please have your ice cream?”

“Of course, honey.”

You couldn’t help but smiled triumphantly at him before scooping your ice cream and lifting it to him. He glared at you before holding your hand closer to his lips before opening his mouth devouring the ice cream, all while holding eye contact with you.

And fuck it if you weren’t entranced with the way his lips seemed so pink…or the way his dark eyes seemed to hold so much hunger that you felt your cheeks heated up. You tried to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let go.

“Delicious, angel,” he said lowly before flashing you a smirk and placing your hand down gently on the table. “I’ll go pay the bill.”

You blinked owlishly, shaking the haze from your mind. “What? You don’t have money. Let me pay-“

He regarded you with bored eyes before lifting his eyebrow, “You told me to get a job, right?”

You were still reeling from the added information as he already walked to the counter. He got a job? When? Also, who would hire someone as socially inadequate as he was?

Jackson grinned widely as he spotted his best friend from across the diner. The other child was waving at him excitedly. He turned to you, jumping from his seat with an elated expression on his face. “Noona! May I say hi to my friend?”

“Of course, honey. Just be careful and don’t run.”

You watched him walked to the other side and you only lost sight of him for a moment when you watched Suga smiled with the old lady working in the diner. He looked like he was familiar with her. Your brows furrowed. How would he, an anti-social, always irritated, mannerless man, know her? Unless…did he work here?

Your thoughts were cut off when you heard an aggressive shouting from behind you.

“Watch where you’re going, little boy!” The man hissed down at Jackson who accidentally bumped into him. He looked like he was about to cry as the man continually berated him that you snapped up to your seat and walked to them. You placed your hands around the little boy’s shoulders, hugging him closer to you as shield from the screaming man.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

He turned his sinister eyes on you, “Are you her mother? You let your son run around like that? What kind of mother are you?!”

“He was not running. I know because I saw. And what about you?! You’re a grown man who shouted at a child over a harmless mistake!”

He sneered at you, his beady eyes roaming on your form. He chuckled tonelessly, before walking closer to you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he whispered before pushing your shoulder hard with his index finger, making you step back from the force. “Do you know who I am?”

“Should I care?”

“I can ruin you and your family-“

He was about to hit you again when a someone caught his finger in his fist. Suga stepped in, his eyes devoid of any emotion, his jaw clenched as he walked closer to the man.

“I’d think twice about doing that,” he ordered coldly, stepping closer to him that the two of you were now hidden behind his back.

And it was as though he noticed a predator more dangerous than him because he did nothing but gulped as he struggled to look into Suga’s eyes. Suga whispered something inaudible to the man before smirking at him and dropping his hold on him. You felt him wrapped his arm around you as he guided you out of the diner and out of reach of the customers’ curious eyes.

The silence was overbearing, so unalike the one you were used to with him, the one where you could break it with your sassiness and teasing ways to him. No. This time, he looked like a different person. He still hadn’t released his hold on you and you could feel the tension emitting from his hand. You were almost to the park, the one you’d promised the little boy you could go to after the diner, when he paused his tracks.

You turned to look at him- only to find him already staring at you with a swirling darkness in his eyes. He let go of you, his hand that had just touched you was clenching.

“You go ahead, angel. I left my wallet in there,” he stated after a moment, his hands now in his pockets before turning around and walking back.

—-

“I told you I’d be back.”

The man’s eyes widened when he noticed Suga casually leaning against the wall of the narrow and quiet walkway. Had he not said a word, he would have walked passed the man who emitted an insane and menacing vibe. His dark hair was falling on his face, his scarred eye leering up at him as though he was elated to finally find a prey in this quiet and sleepy town.

“I-I don’t want any trouble, man-“

“Tsk tsk,” he pushed himself off of the wall before sauntering to the man. He looked relax as though nothing could phased him…as though he wasn’t about to do a crime. “It’s too late for that…man.”

The man whimpered as he was slammed to the wall, his body falling weakly to the ground. He couldn’t hold his own weight, no, not against Suga. His huge body was likened to a rag doll as the man he thought was the devil incarnate landed blow after blow on his body. And he did so without any emotions in his eyes.

“You listen here and you listen good, asshole,” Suga said in a toneless voice, his eyes holding a barely constrained anger. He stepped closer, uncaring that he was crushing the fingers of the man that dared touched her..or that the sound of bones crunching made the man whimpered louder. He crouched down, his hand hanging on his knees nonchalantly. “You fucked up,” he whispered as he took in the disheveled state of the crying man. Softly, he touched the other man’s fingers. He smirked when he heard him cried louder.

“You didn’t only scare the child, but you touched a woman. My woman,” he stated as though he was merely discussing the weather.

“W-what? W-who are you? Are you her husband?” He asked as tears fell down from his eyes.

“Yes.”

Latibule VI

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

monster - haegeum, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Mafia boss Min Yoongi. Bodyguard Jeon Jungkook. And the weapon. The monster. The violent creation of the shadow king. You.

--

please, read the following.

As you can see, this is not the story. This is your warning. Only this post should be tagged / reblogged and not the actual post. This is intentional.

Some of you have read the 'monster' AU. The 'monster' AU is based off the world within the Daechwita MV. It was also written back then, in 2020. What many of you don't know is that the three parts on this blog (part i | part ii | part iii) are only some of the sex scenes of a much larger story. Mhm. I have never posted 'monster' in full anywhere. It would be misconstrued and misunderstood too easily. It is not for unprepared souls.

The gist of the story is that black-haired mafia boss Min Yoongi wants to kill the blond-haired Mad King, and he does.

I often get requests to revisit this AU.

My original intent was to not write anything more. I thought about taking the posts down at one point, as they are technically parts to an incomplete story I will never publish on here. Eventually, I decided to just let it be. People enjoy guilty pleasures. As long as you have your head straight and know this isn't real.

If there was any time to revisit these three, well, it would be after the release of Haegeum, wouldn't it?

Again, this is your warning. The following is not for the faint of heart. I am not holding back. If you click forward, that means you have read the following warnings below and you still wish to proceed. You know what you are getting yourself into. This is violence. This is insanity. This is 'monster' and there is no redeeming them.

Remember, everything is fiction. Read the disclaimer in my masterpost.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; premeditated killing and mass death with all three contributing; graphic descriptions of murder; blood; gun + knife violence; arson > explosion; thievery (money); mentions of reader placed in solitary confinement as punishment; physical abuse; sociopathic and manipulative behaviors; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, unprotected penetrative sex [reader is medically sterile], restrained [arms pinned down], choking with leather collar and with hand, heavy bite / scratching / bruising, stimulation to climax with the handle of a switchblade and said closed switchblade inserted into reader's vagina; reader being spit on and licked degradingly; cum-covered switchblade and later fingers in JK's mouth by Yoongi; standing sex, standing doggy, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, m-masturbation onto reader's face); non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (long black-haired Daechwita/Haegeum AU), longhaired!tattooed!bodyguard!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; m/m tension between them; JK has a praise kink; you have a pain kink

-

This is after the death of the Mad King.

Now, Min Yoongi has all of South Korea within his clutches, puppeteering the dirty money that goes in and out of this country. The underground ruler of the inhumane ruthlessly takes out anyone that is stupid enough to step forward and challenge his rule. Oh, they will always come, their greed tempted by the prosperous forbidden fruit flourishing in the darkness. Foolishly thinking, ah, but who could stop me? After all, no one knows who the shadow king really is – not until they are already locked within the fangs of death.

--

by proceeding, you are verifying that you have read all warnings.

--

masterpost

[chvnnie]

Ceilings

hwang hyunjin x reader

word count: 4.8k

genre: angsty smut - MINORS DNI

warnings: non-modern au (1940 movie star!hyunjin), smoking (cigarettes), forbidden love, dom!hyunjin, sub!reader, infidelity, mentions of drugs and alcohol, hyunjin gets his feelings hurt, oral (f receiving), gentle dirty talk, breath play, unprotected sex (no don't even think about it), creampie, i thiiiink that's all! if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: it's lonely being famous

a/n: do not ask me how many times i listened to ceilings while writing this (hence the title), you don't want to know. post concert depression has hit her HARD. also not me coming up with this idea during muddy water i'm-

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents hwang hyunjin as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess, @hugs4chan, @stranger-thighs, @beautifulcolorgarden, @scottmcallisdaddy, @whatudowhennooneseesyou, @humayraaaaa, @americanokisses, @djeniryuu - comment/send ask to be added

Though it’s only an hour or so past midnight, there’s a tinge of purple in the dark sky. Stars freckle the light color, illuminating the tiny balcony where the movie star stands. A cigarette hangs from his lips as he finally gets a match to strike. Cupping the flame to avoid losing it (again), he brings it to the end. 

The taste of tobacco hits his tongue, threatening to overpower the lingering flavors of you. He’s careful to savor it, not wanting it to slip from him. Greedy would be a good word to describe him; even if it would only take roughly thirty steps to get his fill, missing it even a bit would be a tragic loss. 

Head rolled back, he lets his eyes shut as he exhales the smoke into the November night. A rumble fills the space around him, thunder warning him that his time is limited. It won’t be long until the few raindrops that he’s felt become more powerful. Falling in heavy waves, filling the alley below his townhome with a mild flood.

He’s in no rush. Nothing compares to a cigarette with a hint of you.

The glass doors open with a creak, warmth spilling from the inside. “Are you not cold?”

Hyunjin smiles to himself before turning to face you. His white dress shirt is baggier on you than it is him, the scent of his cologne rolling off it. Your hair is a bit messy, disheveled from the silk sheets. Makeup is smeared under your tired eyes in a way that he thinks is charming. 

“I thought you were sleeping.” He responds before taking another long drag. 

“I was.” With your thumb and pointer finger, you take the cigarette from him and bring it to your own lips. “It’s hard when the bed is empty.”

There’s no way to stop the chuckle that leaves his lips. “I’m sorry, love. I just assumed you were used to it.”

The joke is in poor taste, and frankly he wouldn’t blame you if you put the cigarette out on his face. Instead you give a dry laugh, rolling your eyes as you inhale the sweetly poisonous smoke. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

His motions are gentle. Cupping your face, using his thumbs to both brush your hair back and stroke the apples of your cheeks. Your pretty eyes blink up at him, stars reflecting in their depths. Out of all the wonders he experiences, you are his favorite. 

“I just wanted a smoke.” Hyunjin says in a low whisper. “I promise to be back soon.” It’s locked in with a kiss to each cheek, and one between your eyebrows. 

Something he’s learned from living in the public eye is that a lot of things are fleeting. Words are empty, nobody really trusts anybody for all the right reasons. Everybody wants something from him, all for their own benefit. 

But not you. You’re the most honest thing in his life. 

Taking a step out of his hold, you give a warm smile. “You better, or I’ll push you off this balcony.”

“As is your right, love.”

And then you’re gone, the ghost of your perfume left to surround him when the doors shut. The wind steals it from him too soon, the loneliness that remains all consuming. What’s the point of this life if without you, everything is worthless?

Hyunjin smokes the cigarette down to the end, stubbing it out on the metal railing. The bud falls over the edge, landing in the tiny puddle the rain has made.

His shirt is crumpled on the floor again. On the bed, you lay bare on your stomach, facing away from the balcony door. The sheets sit on your hips, entire back lit by the few remaining candles. Flames dance as Hyunjin walks past them, slowly stripping himself of the robe he only put on to step outside in. The last thing the papers need are pictures of his form decorating them. 

The bed shifts under his weight, knees on the mattress as he moves to lay behind you. Resting on his left arm, Hyunjin carefully brushes your hair off your shoulders. Giving him space to pepper kisses across your warm skin. 

“I know you’re awake.” He whispers near your ear, delighted when he’s rewarded with a sea of goosebumps. “Pay attention to me, darling.”

Carefully, you turn your head to face him. “I told you I can’t sleep in an empty bed.”

The city whispers rumors of his lover. A faceless woman some claim to have seen in passing — sneaking into his car late at night, glances of her stealing cigarettes from the star behind his trailer. 

Hyunjin rests his head on your pillow, hooking his arm around your waist. “I’m here. Why don’t you sleep now?”

It’s almost like she’s a ghost. Even he denies her existence; laughing off the accusations even when it comes from his closest friends. How cliche of a thought; the movie star with a normal lover, one who seems to blend in with every crowd.

You shift in the bed, letting your legs tangle with his. Fingers softly stroke his cheek, pushing the dark strands out of his eyes. “Because you’re here.”

But you’re not normal. If those who speak of you knew of you, everything he’s worked so hard for would be ripped from his hands-

The taste of you greets him once again, tongues dancing to a rhythm only the two of you can hear. With great care, you cup his face. Letting your bodies become one as you inhale him like a warm cigarette on a cold autumn’s night. 

-and you truly would become a ghost to him.

With great care, Hyunjin uses his hold on you to roll you onto your back. It would be a tragedy to break a kiss this heated, lips locked in as he climbs atop you. Your legs spread, welcoming him into your space once again. 

Fingers tangle in his dark locks, tugging with every nip on your lip. His large hand splays across your left hip, firmly pressing with his palm to keep you pinned to the bed. When his thumb strokes just above your mound, he feels the goosebumps rise under his touch. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” He whispers into the kiss, your whimpers making his lips vibrate. 

“Always.”

His hand dips lower, fingertips stroking your inner thigh. So close to your heat, he’s practically aflame. 

“Say it.”

In a life full of luxuries, anything he wants within reach, there’s only one thing he’ll ask for. Every single time, needing it more than the breath in his lungs.

You break the kiss, making sure to meet your eyes as you give him a smile the sun is jealous of. “I’m yours, Hyunjin. Everywhere. All the time.”

With that, his hand creeps down your leg until it finds your knee. Hiking it up as Hyunjin slides down the bed, taking only a moment to breathe before kissing down your thighs. He adjusts the other leg, making sure both feet rest on his shoulders before completely losing himself. 

The taste of you is sweet. Painstakingly careful, he draws a line from your clit to your entrance, making sure to savor every drop of you. Nothing quite compares to this; the soft noises you make when his tongue circles your hole, the twitching of your toes on his shoulder blades. 

What a shame it would be to waste something as delectable as you.

As he groans, his hands wrap around your ankles. Keeping you from squirming out of his grasp. “Fuck, I love this cunt.” He pulls back just to spit directly on your clit, huffing a laugh when your hips roll in response. “You're dripping all over my bed, sweetheart.”

God, he’s in love with you. The way you roll your head, the hands cupping your breasts. Gently, your thumbs press down on your nipples, mimicking the motion in which Hyunjin always touches you. Firm, fast, light. Enough to make your hole flutter around nothing. 

“Sorry.” You exhale a shaky breath that quickly turns into a moan when he starts drawing hearts with his tongue. “Can’t help m-myself.”

“Of course you can’t.” He mocks, applying a bit more pressure with his licks. From the way you start to twitch, knees touching above your head, it’s obvious how close you are. Overstimulated from the unwavering attention he gave you earlier this evening. 

You cry out his name in the most beautifully desperate way, back arching as your nails start to dig into your soft skin. Unspoken pleas and warnings; he needs to let you cum. You need him.

“Again.” Hyunjin commands. “Louder.”

Over and over, his name is shouted. Even as your voice begins to crack, the intensity of your orgasm almost too much for your body to handle, you don’t stop screaming. 

Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin.

Rolling off your tongue like it’s meant to be.

///

There’s a ray of sunlight where your body should be. It bleeds in from the velvet curtains, illuminating the emptiness of the star’s bed. Mindlessly, he traces the sheets, up and down and up and down. Wishing the warmth was coming from your skin and not the silk.

Hyunjin knew you would be gone in the morning. You always are; before the moon even fully disappears. Despite his begs, the dire need to wake up next to you, this is the way it has to be. To protect not only his reputation, but yourself. 

Every time you leave, he can’t help but wonder if it was a dream. Were you ever really here? Or just a figment of his imagination — the results of a high that leaves him feeling numb. 

But then he gets up. There’s the crumpled shirt, the smell of cigarettes and your rose perfume clinging to the fabric. In the bathroom, there are tissues. Stained with lipstick and eyeliner. The towel you used, your hair on his brush. Little reminders that you were here. Real. His, even if only for a brief moment. 

And his heart crumbles all over again, crying as the shower starts to turn cold. When you sneak out his backdoor, you’re no longer his. Lost to a world that doesn’t deserve you, a home that doesn’t love you in all the ways he does. 

Out of his grasp. A memory, nothing more. 

He stands under the water until his skin is numb, eyes burning from the stream of tears that don’t seem to have an end. The morning is a blur; he isn’t sure when he washed his face, or brushed his teeth. He doesn’t remember picking up the shirt you wore just hours later, putting it on to be surrounded by you yet again. How long has he been sitting in traffic?

Does it matter? 

Dark shades protect his eyes as he walks through the lot. The gazes of staff, costars, and the production team are heavy on him. Conspiracies whispered among them; is he high again? Maybe drunk? Both?

If only they knew how sober he actually was.

The trailer door slams loud enough to startle his friend, jumping a bit in his seat and making him drop the book in his hand. Sighing, the blonde runs his fingers through his hair. “Jin, you made me lose my spot.”

He pushes his sunglasses up, rubbing his eyes with the heels on his palms. After months in this trailer, he can navigate it with ease, finding his chair without even opening his eyes. “Sorry, Lix.”

With a sigh, the younger man flips through the book, so worn out it’s practically falling apart his hands. “You’re late.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Felix hums as he finds his place, folding the corner so he doesn’t lose it again. “Is that why you reek of perfume?”

Hyunjin can’t even find it in himself to entertain his jab, nose twitching as he wills himself to keep composure. It’s not like he’s worried about crying in front of his friend, but what his team will think when they walk in. The inconsolable lead actor, hardly able to take a breath. The glass shards of his heart surrounding him, turning to dust over a woman who isn’t even his. 

“It’s getting harder and harder to cover for you.” Felix says as he throws a robe at him, a silent gesture to start getting changed. “Nobody is happy about you running late so frequently.”

Shaky fingers work on his shirt buttons, praying that your scent lingers on his skin. It keeps him sane. “Yeah, well without me there’s no movie.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to show up well past your call time.” Felix waits for his friend to put on the robe, plopping back down in the chair as he reaches for the straightener. “There were so many people looking for you today. I fucking lost count of who came in and out. The director even sent his wife-“

Everything that comes after that is lost, Hyunjin’s body turning cold as he starts to get dizzy. His mind tumbles with questions. When? For how long? Why?

If he spent less time in the shower, would he have been here when you came looking for him?

“-and I’m running out of excuses. If you want to keep this job-“

“I’ll apologize.” Hyunjin says firmly, taking slow breaths to try and steady his heart rate. “And get my shit together.”

He can’t tell if the apology is genuine, or to get his friend to quiet down so he can think. Frankly, he doesn’t care. You were here, looking for him — and he knows it’s not because you were told to. Risking exposing the little secret you two have been so careful about keeping. 

The first time he kissed you, it was raining. The clouds were so dark, day could easily be mistaken for night. Your lips were like clouds, so soft and easy to fall into. Hyunjin cupped your face, feeling your cheeks squish between his fingers. When your lips touched his, he knew it was over for him. Though he swore he wouldn’t fall in love with you, he was doomed from the beginning. 

When those three words were whispered to him, Hyunjin knew for certain. You were meant to be his, he yours. Nothing was right until you.

The speed in which he readies himself is impressive, out the trailer before an assistant can even time check him. You’re sitting by your husband when he walks on set, looking over the man’s shoulders as your eyes follow his movement. He only counts to four before you excuse yourself, making a beeline to the catering table. 

Acting like he doesn’t even notice you, Hyunjin stops beside you. Pretending to consider the pastry options.

“I came for you.” Your voice is but a whisper, almost lost in the chatter of the set. “Only Felix was in your trailer.”

“I missed you, too.” He’s smooth with his words, finally picking up a chocolate croissant. “If I knew you were planning on being here, I would’ve got here on time.”

The sigh you give is cute. Hyunjin can’t help the smile it brings him. “I wasn’t. I’m only here because he asked.”

No context is needed. The star can feel the director’s eyes burning holes into his back. “What a good wife you are.”

The two of you don’t exchange eye contact, dancing around the table as if you’re only there to grab a snack. 

“He noticed I was gone.” You say as you fill a styrofoam cup with hot water. 

“Hm, for once? How kind of him to not be distracted by a model this time.”

The laugh you give is dry. “At least I have the decency to hide my affair.” Oh. Ouch. There’s an ache in his chest that stings more than he could even imagine — that can’t be all you are to him, can it? “Meet me in your trailer after your scene?”

Hyunjin simply nods before bringing his cup of coffee to his lips. “You look cute in that dress.”

How many times does he have to watch you walk away? Giving your husband the most obnoxious fake smile as you hand him his tea, accepting a kiss to your cheek as a thank you.

Maybe Hyunjin doesn’t want this croissant. 

Seconds feel like hours, the actor finding it hard to focus on the scene. His head keeps spinning, you in the center of it. Unwanted thoughts keep plaguing his mind; maybe you are just an illusion, the love he thought you shared nothing but a fantasy. He loves you so much that it physically hurts, the hole in his chest when you’re away like pure torture. 

When he can steal glances at you, he does. Always focused on him, even if you’re tucked into your husband’s side. Almost as if you’re taunting him — look what you can never be.

Claws dig into his brain, gashing it open in slow swipes. With each gaping wound comes a blood curdling screams that only he can hear. It’s loud in his mind, reality out of his grasp as the painful emotions begin to swallow him whole. With all eyes on him. 

The clapperboard barely cuts through the noise, announcing the end of his scene. Before the director can even dismiss him, Hyunjin is walking out the door. It doesn’t matter that people are staring, whispering about the little scene he’s caused by storming off. 

He just needs out. He needs you. 

Once he steps in the trailer, the costume is torn off him, the buttons ripping as he shreds it from his body. There’s little care for it — spending another second in those clothes means pretending he’s someone he’s not. And he can’t deny himself any longer. 

His back is turned to the door when you open it quietly, clicking the lock the second it’s shut. “Hyunjin, that was—“

Slowly, he turns to face you. The emotion on his face is raw; eyes red with tears, face twisted in pain. When you meet his eyes, you stop cold. Frozen by the makeup table. 

“Do you love me?” 

Your brows furrow in confusion. “What are you talking about? Of course I do—“

“Do you love me?” He repeats the question in a broken voice, taking slow steps towards you. Fear starts to blossom in your wide eyes, backing up as he gets closer to you. It’s only when you hit the table that you stop, allowing him to close in on you. “Or are you using me?”

The shock in your expression is earnest, incapable of believing what’s coming from your lover’s mouth. “Why would you think that?”

“At least I have the decency to hide my affair.” He repeats your words from earlier, hands slamming on the table by your sides. There’s nowhere for you to run; you’re caged in. 

“Hyunjin.” Your voice is dripping in hurt. “I love you—“

“Answer the fucking question!” He’s careful not to shout at you, but still raises his voice. Needing you to understand the severity of this. 

He hates the way you’re looking at him. Lip wobbling, tears running down your cheeks. Never did he dream of making you feel like this, of being the cause of your pain. It’s like someone is ripping his heart out and stomping on it — but he has to know, so he can tear himself out of this existence. 

“Yes.” You exhale shakily, hiccups building in your throat. “Fuck, Hyunjin, I love you more than anything.”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Leave him, and stay with me.” It’s Hyunjin’s turn to cry, sniffling as the pain releases down his flushed cheeks. All the bottled up thoughts, the words he’s never said — it all begins to spill, falling like the rain that hit his window as he made love to you last night. 

“B-but, your career. You’ve worked so hard—“

“And none of it matters it if you’re not here.” A shaky hand cups your face, gently brushing the tears away. “If I have to wake up without you one more time, I fear I won’t survive.”

It’s always been obvious that he’s in love with you, but never has he bared his soul quite like this. All of it, no longer buried inside him. No longer protected. Yours to cherish, yours to break. Every ounce of him has always been yours.

He can hear the wheels turn in your head. All of the options carefully weighed as you scan his face. The longer your silence continues, the more his fear grows. Crawling up his body like a poison ivy, every inch of his skin on fire as the chance of losing you increases. 

You sigh before breaking eye contact, and it’s over. He can feel it — all a dream, never a reality. The ghost of you is haunting him already.

“Why do I keep leaving you to wake alone-“ You grab his free hand with both of yours, cupping it as if it was made of glass. “-when I dread it just as much myself?

His sight follows yours, catching one last look at the ring on your finger before it falls to the floor. The love and home you built with a man that wasn’t him gone with a light thud.

For once, in the entirety of the time he’s known him, you’re finally all his.

In unison, you both look up. Meeting each other’s gaze once more; only this time, there’s no pain. No anger, no confusion. In that space is a love nobody in this eternity ever has, or ever will experience. 

You are better than anything he could dream. Than any writer could ever create. Even the stars are jealous of the wonder you hold. 

And you’re all his.

When he kisses you, it’s better than any you’ve ever shared before. There’s no barrier, nothing that’s going to take you from him after you lay together. It’s like experiencing you for the first time all over again, and he’ll be damned to take it for granted. 

Grabbing your hips, he lifts you up just a bit to put you on the makeup table. Once sat, your legs hook around his waist, pushing your bodies so close together that they threaten to become one. Your head tilts back, allowing Hyunjin to deepen the kiss. It’s sloppier than usual, the excitement too hard to contain. He smiles into the kiss, eagerly letting his tongue tangle with yours.

The trailer is scolding hot on this cool November afternoon, the windows steaming from your combined body heat. As the kiss moves to your jaw, your nails dig into his back, slowly raking down until your fingers brush the waistband of his boxers. 

Hyunjin considers himself to be a respectful, honorable man. Even though he’s sleeping with another man’s wife, he’s always been careful not to leave marks. He has some respect; or at least, he used to. Now he’s nipping at your jaw, not caring about the bruises he leaves. 

“Tell me, darling.” His voice has dropped an octave, low and almost chilling. “How often did you let him touch you after I did?”

You shake your head, gasping when you feel his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. “N-never. It's only ever been you.”

He can’t even fathom how any man could share a bed with you and not want to worship every inch of you. What an absolute joke of a husband — but at least he was kind enough to save you for Hyunjin. 

His fingers hook onto your silk panties, tugging them off with a strength that pulls you to the edge of the table. “Good. I don’t like to share.”

It’s very likely that he is biased, but Hyunjin thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. The way your soft lips part in surprise every time his hand wraps around your throat, the insatiable desire burning deep in your eyes — oh, he’ll never tire of making you react like this. 

Your panties fall to the ground, landing close by the abandoned wedding ring. The grip he has on you is intense; palm pressing hard enough to make your lips tingle, little whimpers leaving them as you push his boxers down. His cock catches on the waistband, springing up when fully released and hitting his lower abs. 

Are you already drooling? How precious. 

Hyunjin collects your spit with his thumb, shoving it back into your mouth. “Don’t be so messy, love.”

An apology vibrates against his thumb, only to be cut short by a low moan when the head of his cock starts to tease your folds. There’s something about his touch that drives you wild, a feral force driving you to start shaking as you buck your hips. 

He takes the thumb out of your mouth, letting the pretty sounds fill the trailer. All it takes is a raise of his brows for you to start begging, damn near incoherent. 

“Please, Jinnie.” You whine. “I n-need you.”

“And I, you.”

It only takes one fluid thrust to fill you to the brim; the width of his cock gives you a delightfully painful stretch. As you cry in pleasure, he playfully chuckles, bucking in even though there’s no more space. Just so you can feel all of him. 

“Just like that.” Hyunjin says, capturing your lips for a quick kiss. “Make all those pretty noises for me, love.”

And with that, he pulls back until just the tip is inside you. Your cunt flutters around him, so eager for him even after a small taste. The strength in which he slams into you makes the table shake, the trailer creaking from the movement. 

Hyunjin has fucked you in here a number of times, always making sure to be as inconspicuous as possible. Not wanting to give more fuel for the rumors. 

Now, he’s pouring the gas over it, and will even light the flame himself. 

The rhythm he picks is rough; squeezing your neck tighter with each brutal movement. He’s sure you leave bruises all over you. Neck, hips, legs. All reminders that he’s the only person for you. 

A delightful scream, followed by a precious giggle, alerts Hyunjin of your soft spot. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, clinging to his sweaty body as he makes a point of hitting it again.

“H-hyunjin.” You pant, barely able to form words. “Good, good-“

“Oh?” He snakes a hand between your bodies, only barely touching your clit. Just the featherlight touch makes you twitch. “You’re so sensitive, baby. Were you that hungry for my cock?”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know the expression you’re wearing — eyes shut, drool rolling down your chin. Fucked dumb so easily, it’s almost comical. Deciding that words are too hard, you nod as your moans increase in volume. 

God, Hyunjin loves you so fucking much.

It doesn’t take much more for you to start to cry, the orgasm building faster than he can fuck you. Grabbing the nape of your neck, he pulls your head up despite your protest. 

“Where?” He asks through shaky breaths, his own stomach starting to twitch.

Your eyes slowly flutter open, staring at him with empty doe as you lock your legs shut. And clench.

It was your one rule. You can fuck, you can fall in love, but Hyunjin cannot cum in you. It was the one boundary you set, and he was nothing but respectful of your wishes. 

So to know that this is now what you want, making it almost impossible for him to pull out—

“Fuck, kiss me.” He growls, slamming your lips against his own. The second you cum around his cock, he releases into you, finally making you his own.

Limply you cling to him, whining as he pulls out of you. When the kiss breaks, your head returns to his shoulder. Clinging to him as if your life depends on it. 

Hyunjin loves you from the table, lying you down on the cool leather couch. When he tries to release you, you begin to cry in protest. 

“Shh, darling.” He says with a fond chuckle. “I’m just going to get you some water. I’ll be back.”

You’re asleep before he even gets his robe on. Before leaving, he picks up a bit. Returns the makeup to the table, finds your ring. Stuffs the panties in his pocket.

It’s a quick, brisk walk back to the set. A red light warns him that the cameras are rolling, yet he walks in without a care. 

After all, without him, there’s no movie.

The director yells for the scene to end with an annoyed tone, turning his head to glare at whoever just interrupted the otherwise smooth scene. Hyunjin only smiles as he approaches him, the smell of sweat and sex rolling off his body. 

It’s a wordless exchange — digging in his pocket, the actor pulls out your ring, wrapping your soiled panties around it. Carelessly, Hyunjin drops it on the director's lap, waiting for the realization to cross his face before he speaks.

“I quit.”

©: chvnnie 2023

[chimchimmarie]

POV: That one time Jimin first saw you at a fansign and his heart fluttered.

The first time Jimin saw you was when Jungkook called dibs on you. But you only had eyes for Yoongi.

It was minutes before the fansign starts. A big crowd of armys have lined up and waited for this. The cheers echoed in the room as each of the members settles in.

Jungkook: “Jimin hyung, hot girl, twelve o’clock. The blond one. Dibs.”

Jungkook whispers into his ear. Jimin doesn’t care. He’s not even remotely listening to the maknae anymore.

Jimin sees you. Beautiful. Elegant. Sexy. And just simply gorgeous.

He’s not one who’s easily swayed with anyone’s presence. But you are different. You make his heart feel a myriad of different things all at once.

He feels his throat go dry as he gives you a once over, ogling you, shamelessly stopping at the right places committing everything into memory and forgetting that multiple cameras may be capturing just how whipped he probably looks right now.

It’s your smiles. They’re like a vice grip into his heart—locking him in, towards you and your warmth.

If you could just look at him.. He vows to return them full force. Maybe even send you one of his killer ones that’s bound to make any woman melt.

But.. why are you not looking at him?

It’s been a while, and as you wait for your turn to line up for the fansign, you’ve never even once given him, (nor Jungkook), a glance.

He follows your line of sight and—

Of course.

Your smiles were clearly made for him.

Min *fucking* Yoongi. Jimin thought, not again.

How does he compete with his Yoongi hyung? How does he compete with The AgustD?

He doesn’t know it yet, nor does he want to believe. But it seems pretty likely that Yoongi is your bias.

Jungkook: “I’m gonna give her my number.”

Jimin whips his head and glared at the maknae for that. He has to deal with Jungkook first.

Jimin: “You’d have to go through me first.”

Jungkook: (wide eyed) “I called dibs!?” (whisper yells)

Jimin shot the deadliest glare on the younger boy. And he gets the notice.

Jungkook: “It’s not fair! You always don’t honor the dibs!”

Jimin smirks and looks for you again.

**Not for this one, I won’t.** Jimin thought. He’s deadset on making you notice him right there and then.

[jez-bez]

Eeee I was tagged in this by @ivor-outlaw and @sasblr and I'm finally getting around to do it (and have the guts to share, oops?)

Rules of the game: post your lock/home screen, the last song you listened to and the last picture you saved!

Here's mine y'all! Don't be fooled, I am a Boss simp but blond Noeul?? melting

I found the song in the series Alice in Borderland and ever since hearing it, I'm obsessed

And the mirror picture?? I'm just a sucker for mirror pictures and it's Noeul! How could I not save it? Ughhh

I'm curious to see others too! But don't feel forced to do anything babes ;) @peachyrayne @agustds-raine

[rkivebts]

𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦. 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵! ◡̈

[prplocks]

♡☆♡ suga wallpaper

reblog if you save ▪︎

-----------------------------------------------------------

[kobunny-lockscreens]

Yoongi Wallpapers!

Idol:

BTS - Suga

Like/reblog if you use!

[champagneher]

❝𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔❞ —𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢

pairing: min yoongi x reader

based on: reader posts a picture of yoongi somewhere, and it becomes a meme.

warnings: just fluff.

word count: 1k+

a/n: so... i'm loving this social media au, please if you want, you can request yours. again, english is not my first language, so please, forgive me if i misspell something. thank you for reading!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yoongi was literally on top of Y/n as he slowly kissed her lips and his right hand slowly lowered to her waist where he squeezed lightly.

"Mm, baby, no…" she murmured against his lips, "I have to take a shower." She laughed and with difficulty was able to get out from under him, who only let out a sigh complaining. "We have to get to Jin's house on time, it will be the first dinner all together since we recovered." She walked around the room looking for her clothes to finally enter the bathroom.

"But I'm bored," he lay down, staring at the ceiling. "I told you to take a shower in the morning," he ran his hands over his face, trying to relax. "I miss you..."

"We had sex until 3 in the morning?" Y/n looked at him from the bathroom door frame as she tried not to laugh. "It will only be a few minutes, Yoongs."

"What am I supposed to do until that?" He laughed, looking at her with pleading eyes, but frowned when she entered the bathroom again.

"I don't know," she spoke loudly as she turned on the shower tap. "You can go on Instagram," she suggested, now walking back to the door frame as she waited for the hot water to come out. "Hobi has a good time there, you can kill time."

"Instagram is boring and difficult," he complained. "I don't know how he handles it so well." He looked up. "You handle it well too," he smiled at her. "Should I follow you?"

"No, it'll take a long time if we both go to the shower." She blew him an air kiss before closing the door.

"I meant on Instagram," he replied under his breath to no one, since Y/n was already locked in the other room.

Yoongi reached his right arm to the nightstand on the side of the bed to take his phone to 'kill time'.

Yoongi: Should I follow Y/n on Instagram?

Namjoon: She's your girlfriend, it's up to you, I guess

Namjoon: Also, we always comment on her posts, I don't understand why no one noticed yet 🤷‍♂️

Hoseok: she has loyal friends who don't tell anyone, that's why 😌

Yoongi: Or no one really cares what we say

Yoongi: You guys comment a lot on my girlfriend's posts...

Tae: She literally only posted 3 times since you've been together?

Yoongi: How do you know that?

Yoongi: Hello?

Namjoon: I really liked the post she made today with your photo 😂

Hoseok: i liked it too, i was the first like 😌😌

Tae: Hyung, you live on Instagram right?

Hoseok: lies

Hoseok: hope out, I'll go get ready for tonight 🥵

Yoongi: It's a good photo, it's true

Yoongi: I'm going to share it. Hoba, how do I do that?

Namjoon: I'll explain you, but Yoongi we have to do something before that

Hoseok: nono, I'll explain him 😭😭

____'s phone hadn't stopped ringing for the past 7 minutes, not letting her music play in peace, and she didn't understand why. With a groan, she finally got out of the shower and walked over to where she had left her phone, grabbed it and couldn't believe her eyes.

Shit.

"Min Yoongi, what the fuck?" She came out into the room naked with her hair wet with drops falling from it and her body. "When I told you to get distracted on Instagram, I didn't mean this," she showed him the notifications that kept coming.

Yoongi was lying down with a grin on his lips as he watched her closely. "Don't worry, I took all precautions."

"Just yesterday I taught you how to upload a story, and now you do this?!" She said, still unable to believe it. She was overwhelmed, she had only two Instagram notifications informing her that agustd had shared her post and that she had 3 new special followers, and hundreds of messages from family and friends who knew nothing about her relationship and how she even knew him.

Both had officially been together for 11 months as a couple, 1 and a half years as "friends with benefits", and 2 and a half years of knowing each other. She trusted him fully, she knew his friends and a bit of his family. She also knew about his work and how things worked there, god help who is linked to someone as famous as 'Suga'.

To Y/n, Yoongi was just someone low-key dude, sometimes grumpy, but very shy and caring when they're in private. And sometimes a little shit.

From the first moment, she accepted that no one from the outside could know about them, that was fine with her. A girl from another country who did not meet Korean beauty standards and who struggled every day to speak Korean fluently without getting confused with some words. She accepted it, and he loved her just like that. She knew that Yoongi would one day announce that they were together -if they were still together, of course. Hopefully-, she just imagined that it would be something planned by both of them. Or with a warning.

"I made your account private so no one can follow you without your approval or see your posts, and I also limited your comments just in case."

"Did you do all that while I was taking a shower?"

"Namjoon and Hobi explained it to me." He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Besides, your account was already on my phone and I love you."

"I- uh..."

Yoongi walked over to her and took her in her arms, slowly kissing her lips as he sat her on the bed next to him.

"I think it's about time the world knows that I'm in love and finally completely happy with the woman of my life."

Oh, that was okay with her. So okay.

It was already night, and they were both in bed ready to sleep after a fun dinner with their friends. Y/n was reading her book when she caught a glimpse of Yoongi frowning, looking at his phone.

"Everything's okay?" She asked him, quietly lowering the book to direct all her attention to her boyfriend.

"This bite me in the ass," he complained under his breath. "What the fuck-"

"Love?"

"I should've never shared that photo." He let out an irritated sigh, then laughed. Y/n watched him, still not understanding.

"I don't understand, and you're not helping me." She moved to be at his level and look at his phone with him. "Oh..."

"They made me a fucking meme! The guys haven't stopped sending all the photos they find to the group chat."

"It's a worldwide trend and a meme on all social networks." She laughed after checking her apps. "Oh, you have to check Twitter, there are the best!" She let out a loud laugh.

"Love," he growled. "It's not even funny. I'm just squatting." He excused himself. He looked at Y/n who was chuckling, still looking at her phone. In a quick movement, he took it out of her hands and left it on the side of the bed.

"Hey! I was watching that…" She spoke, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Enough of that shit, I want to have fun now myself," he said, then grabbed her feet and dragged her a little further to the middle of the bed to climb on top of her and then pull his shirt off of him.

"Yoongi…" she laughed as she cupped his face in her hands. They both looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds.

"You do know that sharing that photo wasn't an official announcement of our relationship, right?" She nodded. "We'll do that tomorrow, together." She smiled at him to kiss him. "I love you, I truly love you."

[yungisstar1117-writes]

F,g,n,p wooyoung please

ꜰ - ꜰɪɢʜᴛ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ ꜰᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ?

Wooyoung wouldn’t be too fazed by you fighting back, he expected it and probably prepared for it too. After the world has treated you it’s only natural for you to be weary of him, you can’t help it. You’re only a silly bunny after all, how can he expect you to act any differently?

Perhaps every once in a while however, he does become frustrated with you. He’s counting down the hours, the days, the months until you’ll finally learn to understand he’s just doing what’s right for you. Until then, he’ll keep you locked up as a precaution until you trust him and he can begin to trust you.

ɢ - ɢᴀᴍᴇ: ɪꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍ? ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇ?

When by some accident you managed to escape, Wooyoung was ecstatic! He’d been cooped up in the house watching over you after all, so he hadn’t had some fresh air in a while. He’s gleefully cackling as he scraped his knife against a near wall, watching as you run off into the night. His cute little bunny.. wanting to play hide and seek with her big bad wolf. Well Wooyoung happily obliged, grabbing the hilt of his knife firmly and running after you.

“Oh bunny!~ Better hide bun bun, the big bad wolf is coming to get’cha!”

ɴ - ɴᴀᴜɢʜᴛʏ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴘᴜɴɪꜱʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ?

Wooyoung doesn’t know what to do with you at times, especially when you fight back against him so fiercely. He feeds you, clothes you, washes you, protects you, just to be screamed at and spat on? Usually his tolerance of your actions is extremely high, but when he snaps boy does he spiral. He’s screaming in your face, holding you and shaking you. He’s almost feral with frustration, all the emotions he’d suppressed erupting all at once. He’s shaking you back and forth, asking the same question again and again until his words start to slur.

“Why?! Why don’t you love me?! Answer me! Why don’t you fucking love me?! “

He sees his outbursts as punishment enough, but also tends to isolate himself for a day or two, forgetting to feed you as he’s too frustrated with himself for exploding on you. Inevitably, he’ll come apologise and the process will simply begin again. You’ll push him and him push again, until he snaps.

ᴘ - ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴄᴇ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ?

As previously stated, Wooyoung is one of the most patient with you. He loves the little games he can play with his pretty little bunny, and he always makes sure his prized possession is perfectly groomed. Even if you thrash against him eventually he’ll manage to perfectly style your hair. Even if you splatter soap in his eyes he’ll wipe it away and eventually he’ll manage to wash you. Even if you scream at him and claw at his face, eventually he’ll manage to dress you in a pretty pink outfit. He doesn’t give a fuck if you like it or not, you’re his bunny and only he gets a say in the matter.

His pretty little fluffy pink bunny… all his to look after and play with.

Taglist: @a-soft-hornytiny @taeyongslilkitty @galaxybambam @wishuponthestars @agustd-essert @deobitiny @nyghtwolff-1117 @yunhobabygurl @multidreams-and-desires @lee--felix @hyuckilstan @hwarora @littleninja97 @admiringyeosang @violetwinters @lex-thesimpzzz

© 𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝟏𝟏𝟏𝟕-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[chvnnie]

Call Me When You’re Sober

lee minho x reader

part 2/8 - come on fuck me emo boy. find the playlist here

word count: 3.1k

genre: smut, SO. MUCH. ANGST. MINORS DNI

warnings: toxic relationship on both ends, mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol, verbal fights, oral (f receiving), restraints (belt), use of a gag, choking, unprotected sex (do i have to say it), referred to and called a toy, HEAVY THEMES: MENTIONS OF MISCARRIAGE. IT’S BREIF BUT STILL THERE. it’s just really sad at the end. if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW

summary: the line that divides love and hate is so blurry when it comes to minho.

a/n: this is my first time really writing angst, so have fun experiencing this with me. i promise next week we’ll get a break from angst and heavier themes/topics. as sad as this is, i really hope you like this. i’m really experimenting as an author with this series, so any feedback is appreciated.

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents lee minho as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

series taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @fthan, @chaitae-bae, @cloudyybinin, @lix001, @mmminhooo, @dnadoublefelixx, @whatudowhennooneseesyou, @cyder-puff - to be added, please comment or send an ask.

BY CLICKING READ MORE, YOU ARE CONSENTING TO READING HEAVIER THEMES.

The electricity had gone out hours ago. Weather channels had predicted a storm of this intensity for weeks, yet you brushed it off. There was no need for candles, no need for coolers to keep perishables safe, or power banks for charge electronics. Now, at 3:00 am, you realized the weight of your mistake.

You were squatted in front of the fireplace, still shivering even with the combined heat of the bright fire and the blanket you were wrapped in. Sleep was beckoning you, eyes growing heavier as each second passed, but you couldn’t. You had tried, hours ago, but the fear of the fire growing out of control kept you up and focused on the dancing orange flames.

And, Minho wasn’t home.

It wasn’t unusual at this point - most nights he didn’t come home, and if he did, he was too drunk to talk to. The nights he did come home were filled with fights, screaming at each other until your voices were raw and your eyes burned with salty tears. He had been home every night this week, which meant your voice was nonexistent.

The storm made you realize you couldn’t take it anymore. Before it knocked the power off, you were sobbing in the master bedroom, folding your clothes into suitcases. It was painful, packing a life once comparable to paradise away, but you couldn’t pretend like what this had become was an acceptable replacement.

What was once a paradise was now a hell. For both you and Minho.

The lock on the front door clicked, but you didn’t turn your head towards the noise. It wouldn’t be a new sight; Minho stumbling in, keys hitting the breakfast nook table with a loud thud. He would kick off his shoes, mumbling about how tight they felt before throwing them haphazardly at the shoe rack by the door. Once his slippers were on, he would drag himself to the kitchen and get a glass of water, refilling it as many times as he wanted before stumbling out and heading to bed.

Unsurprisingly, tonight wasn’t any different. You don’t even think he noticed the lack of electricity. He filled up his glass six times before you heard it hit the sink, Minho sighing as he left the kitchen.

He stopped when saw you in front of the fire.

“Why are you up?” His words weren’t slurred. Good. Not as drunk as he usually was when he came home.

“The storm. Couldn’t sleep.” You refused to look at him, new tears welling up from the sound of his voice.

Minho sighed, running his fingers through his hair before looking out the window. “How long has our electricity been out?”

You shrugged. “A few hours. I don’t know.”

You could practically hear him roll his eyes. “You don’t know when it went out? How am I supposed to file a claim with the electric company if you can’t remember?”

“I was busy. Excuse me for not noticing the time.”

“Busy with what?”

You didn’t answer, lips quivering as you attempted to hold your sobs in. You brought your knees closer to your chest, attempting to make yourself smaller. Maybe if you curled yourself up more, you would disappear into the air. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to tell him you were leaving in the morning.

“Busy with what?” He asked again, voice laced with impatience.

“Do we have to do this now, Minho-“

“Why not? We’re both awake. What were you busy with?”

You snapped your head up, finally making eye contact with your boyfriend. His hair was a mess, slightly wet from the rain and sticking up in different directions. His clothes looked intact for the most part; the black button down he wore out was still tucked in, his leather jacket looked clean and unstained. The white bunny slippers were such a contrast that you almost wanted to laugh - Minho wasn’t as intimidating and tough as everyone thought. If it was months ago, you would’ve laughed, poking fun at his tough exterior when he was nothing but a big softy. He would have probably laughed too, playfully threatening you before kissing you to shut you up.

He wouldn’t now, just like you wouldn’t make that joke.

“Can we please not do this?” Your voice was breaking, tears glowing in the light of the fire. “We can fight in the morning, Minho. Just please, let it be for tonight.”

You watched his chest as he took deep breaths, steadying himself before he answered. “Fine. Not tonight. Are you coming to bed?”

“It’s cold upstairs. I’ll probably sleep on the couch tonight.”

It wasn’t necessarily a lie - it was cold upstairs, but sleeping in the living room made it easier to sneak out in the morning.

Minho hummed, making his way to the large sectional before plopping down. He shimmed his jacket off, tossing it over the armrest before lying down on the couch.

Was he sleeping out here too?

“Well?” Minho asked as he worked on the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Are you sleeping down here, too?”

“You said it was cold upstairs. Why would I want to sleep up there?”

The two of you stared at each other, eyes red and swollen for different reasons. When you didn’t answer immediately, Minho clicked his tongue and began to get up.

“You don’t want me down here with you. Fine.” He mumbled, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll go sleep in the ice box, I guess.”

“Minho, it’s not that-“

“Then what is it?” He snapped, fully facing you. “You’ve been avoiding me this entire week, even though I’ve come home every single night. What has made you so fucking miserable that you can’t even look at me anymore?”

You stood up, dropping your blanket on the ground. Even though the height difference wasn’t much, when you and Minho fought, it always felt like he towered over you. Looking at you with silted eyes, which were dark with anger and intoxication, face completely impassive as he stared at you like you weren’t worthy enough of his presence.

It broke your heart every time.

“You want to talk about avoiding each other? You can’t even come home to me if you’re not drunk. You don’t call me during the day, or talk to me-“

“That’s not true.“

“Oh, really? Then what were you doing tonight, Minho? Just fucking around at the studio, all night?” You scoffed. “Yeah, that totally explains why the living room reeks of gin.”

“Because you’re so innocent.” He snapped, walking towards you and forcing you against the cold window. “What about everything you’ve done, hm? Sure, I might come home to you drunk, but at least I didn’t flee the country with your best friend for a month. Or were those photos of you getting fucked by him photoshopped?”

“Shut up.” You grunted, fists pounding against his shoulders in attempt to wiggle free from the cage he put you in. A hand shot up, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger and effectively stilling you.

“I just have one question, baby.” Minho’s tone dropped, voice eerie and dripping with lust as he leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Did he fuck you as good as I do?”

He nipped at your ear, catching the lobe and pulling it down. Your fist unraveled, now clutching onto his dress shirt as he released your ear. Minho pulled back, eyes boring into yours as his other hand slid up your shirt. Nothing about Minho was gentle, especially when he was drunk or angry. When he was both, he was brutal, using you as if you were just a toy for him.

And as much as he’s hurt you and left you broken, you couldn’t help but fall at his feet when he acted like this.

His nails dug into your skin, slowly scratching up your chest until he stopped between your breasts.

“I don’t think his touch felt this good…” his voice was low and dangerous like the nails now scratching the soft mound of your left breast, digging deeper the closer he got to the nipple. “Or made your heart pound like this.”

His nails ran across your hardened nipple, eyes focused on the way the feeling made you shudder. An evil smirked played on his lips, slowly scratching back across to make you fall apart even more.

Minho closed the space between your faces, lips hovering inches above yours. Your mouth salivated from the anticipation of his taste. He was the perfect combination of sweet like pineapple, but salty like the ocean. With the hints of gin that were likely still dancing on his tongue, you had no doubt that even the smallest kiss would make you putty in his hands.

But when you subconsciously tried to close the gap, Minho moved his head back, dark chuckles making your face flush in embarrassment.

“Don’t forget, darling.” The scratches on your chest stopped, only to be replaced by Minho pinching your nipple, tugging on it just enough to be slightly painful. Your shoulders hit the cold glass window as your back arched, your middles meeting and softly grinding. “I’m the one who taught you what feels good. I’m the one who made you like this. Nobody can make you feel as good as I can.”

It was then that he kissed you, tongue diving down your throat. He swallowed up every sound you made - every strained moan or wet whine, Minho took all of it without complaint. Your hands gripped at his dress shirt, pulling his chest to yours so that you were completely molded together. One.

Something you hadn’t been in a while.

Grabby hands tore at each other’s clothes. The buttons on Minho’s shirt clattered to the floor, the sounds of your crop top ripping lost in the rhythm of your moans. Once you both were bare from the waist up, Minho moved his hands to your yoga pants and pulled away from your lips. He squatted, face in front of your core, staring up at you as he pushed the tight material down.

The smell of you greeted his nostrils, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in pleasure. “Fuck, you’re drenched.” When your pants reached your thighs, it appeared that Minho had lost his patience, deciding to attack your clothed cunt.

The sound of your slick and his tongue, with only the lace as a barrier between the two was sinful. Overwhelming. It made your thighs clench together, Minho’s head crushed in between them. But it was clear he didn’t give a fuck, quickly grasping the outer edges of your thighs to keep you in place. When you moaned, so did he, the sound vibrating through your lower body.

“Min.” You whined, fingers intertwining with his brown locks. “Please. Want to feel more of you-“

At your request, Minho’s hands wrapped around your body, one squeezing your ass while the other slapped it hard enough for it to tingle.

“Shut up.” He had pulled back just enough so you could hear the warning in his voice, tongue still flicking at your slit. “And let me do my fucking job.”

Minho never let up - refusing to remove your panties or use his fingers. He looked up at you as you squirm, silently begging in the form of whimpers. It made you so incredibly annoyed how well he knew your body. How he could bring you to the brink of orgasm with his tongue alone, even with clothing stunting it.

So it was no surprise that he knew you were about to cum. He taught you your tells. The way your body shook only at the hips, eyes rolling so far back all you could see was black, the whimpers that sounded almost like the meow of a cat falling from your lips. Minho knew what they were before you did, so when he felt your hips begin to quiver, he quickly pulled back.

It shouldn’t be surprising that he pulled back at the last possible second, but you still couldn’t help but fuss, fist clenching as you banged them mildly against the window.

“Stop fucking crying.” Minho said as he peeled both your pants and underwear off. “It’s annoying.”

“You’re annoying.” You whined, eyes focused on the ceiling.

He stood up, laughing as he undid his belt. The malice and lack of sympathy behind that laugh made your body shiver. You were almost scared of him, of what he would do to you tonight.

But that made it so much better.

The belt was off his waist and around your wrists in less than ten seconds. Minho tightened it until he heard you whine, only stopping when you cried out. He slammed the bound wrists above your head, the metal of the belt buckle hitting the window and echoing throughout the room.

Minho grabbed the base of his cock with his free hand, slowly pushing the tip inside you. “You wanna cry about something?” His slid into you, hips moving at a snail's pace to make sure you could feel every ridge of his cock. “I’ll give you something to cry about.”

That’s when he bottomed out without warning, not bothering to stretch you out the rest of the way. Your mouth fell open, but before even the smallest moan could slip through, Minho shoved your ruined panties down your throat. He pushed them all the way back, only stopping when you began to gag around them.

The pace he set was brutal, only pulling out to mid-shaft before shoving back in with more pressure than the thrust before. Every time a muffled whine fell from you, he went harder, faster. As if he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were actively sobbing with his cock inside you.

And knowing Minho, that very well might be his goal.

“You look so fucking pretty like this.” He grunted as a hand found your throat, squeezing it gently. He locked eyes with you, waiting for your consent. When you gave a brief nod, he immediately tightened his grip. His thumb flicked up, wiping up a bit of drool that was rolling down your chin. “Crying and drooling, and silent. God, you’re the perfect little toy, aren’t you?”

The praise was condescending, but enough to make you nod your head quickly. All you wanted was to cum, to feel good for the first time in days.

As mean as he’s been lately, Minho always made sure you ascended around his cock.

You watched as his wet his lip with his tongue, teeth pulling it in when it was damp. His eyebrows furled, nose scrunched. His breaths were more of huffs, coming out hot and fast.

When he taught you your tells, he also made sure you knew his.

You pushed your hips up, centers knocking together. Minho glared at you, moving the hand from your throat to take the panties out of your mouth.

“What?” He hissed, hard demeanor slowly beginning to fall.

“Cum. Cum.” You panted, unable to say anything else.

“Oh? Me, or you baby?”

Your body was so close to giving out. The leather of his belt bit into you in the most uncomfortable way, your throat raw from the combination of your panties and his grip. But, somehow, with the most pathetic tone, you croaked out: “Both.”

Minho didn’t have enough in him to edge you, or himself more. In fact, he didn’t even verbally respond. He slammed into you harder, pubic bone pressing into your clit just enough to send you over the edge. When he felt you clench, your orgasm coming to life, Minho spilled inside you. His head fell back as he groaned, fucking every last bit of him into you.

He pulled out of you slowly, gentle hands bringing your wrists down. Minho laid his head on your shoulder as he undid his belt, letting it fall to the ground between you two. Once free of restraints, you fell limp against him. Minho gathered you in his arms, moving the two of you back in front of the fireplace. It was almost comforting - the warmth of the fire and his body lulling you into a sense of security.

Almost.

You sat across from each other, naked and covered in each other’s essence. Minho held your wrists in his hands, gently rubbing lotion onto the bruising skin.

The question left your lips before you could consider it.

“When did you fall out of love with me?”

Minho paused, thumbs pressing into your wrists. You were sure he could feel your pulse, relaxed but fast. He stared at the space in between you, eyes focused on a certain spot on the rug. The fire reflected his eyes, showing the tears that were beginning to build up.

“You didn’t help me build the crib.” His voice was a whisper, almost getting lost in the crackling of the fire. “Which was fine, you didn’t have to help.” Minho looked up to meet your eyes, a single tear breaking free. “But you didn’t help me tear it down, either.”

You took a deep breath, the exhale making you shudder. “I’m-“

“Please.” He said, words catching in his throat. “Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

Silence took over again. Minho continued to massage your wrists, tears falling onto your cold skin and mixing in with the lotion.

“What about you?” He didn’t look up as he spoke.

You focused on the way his thumbs moved. The lotion was absorbed by now, but Minho refused to stop the massaging movement. It made it harder to speak, even though you were the one who prompted this conversation.

“You stopped coming home.”

There was nothing else that needed to be said. Minho tightened his grip on your wrist, gently pulling you into his body. You let him hold you close, his chin resting against your shoulder while you nuzzled into his neck.

“Ju-Just let me hold you.” His voice cracked, sniffling as he let himself succumb to the emotions. “One last time before you leave.”

You tightened your arms around him in response, clinging onto his body. Skin to skin, molded together. One body as you held each other for the final time.

You never hated Minho. He never hated you. You had both loved a love that was too powerful, too much for this tiny planet you called home. It was bright and beautiful, shining brighter than any sun in all of eternity.

And when you fell out of it, everything broke like lightning in a thunderstorm. Including the two of you.

©: chvnnie 2022

[star1117-archives]

oh~ mafia hongjoong but if he had a brother ( could be a twin of hongjoong or seonghwa) in a poly relationship with insecure poc

sry, If the request doesn't make that much sense its 2 am over here where I am and I cannot think straight. 

thank you either way for reading my request and have a lovely day :) <33

I think I took this in the wrong direction lmao

➵ Pairing : Seonghwa + Hongjoong X Fem!Reader

➵ Genre : Smut + Mafia au

➵ W.C : 395

➵ Warnings : Knife play, Poly Seongjoong + reader, Bondage, Sensory deprivation (blindfold), Insinuated threesome, Insinuated handjob, Minor porn consumption.

➵ A/N: Under 15’s DNI

➵ © 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝟏𝟏𝟏𝟕-𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost or use my work in any way, shape or form

“Fuck… i don’t even know what to say, love.”

Seonghwa stared with wide eyes at your computer screen, the lewd moans still seeping through the speakers. Hongjoong however was sat on the bed, fiddling with the handle of one of his throwing knives as the rest lay gleaming next to him. He had been meticulously cleaning them when you had asked if you could try something new.

“So what… you want me to take one of these knives..”

Hongjoong held the knife up, watching as the light bounced off it.

”Hold it to your throat.. and fuck you?”

The blood instantly rushed to your cheeks as your head hung low, embarrassment coursing through your veins as you let out a meek yes. You jumped a little when Seonghwa slammed the laptop shut, hoping he wasn’t angry yet not daring to look over and check. It was only then you felt a coldness under your chin, pressing against you lightly to push your head up. Your gaze now locked with Hongjoong’s, Seonghwa watching on smugly from the side.

“Answer me pet, don’t keep master waiting now.”

You gulped before replying, feeling arousal pool in your stomach from the cool metal.

”Y-yes, sir.”

Hongjoong smirked before motioning vaguely to your clothes.

”Take all that off. Seonghwa, you tie our pretty little pet up.”

Seonghwa licked his lips when you finally undressed yourself, pulling off the tie he was wearing and blindfolding you with it. He guided you to the part of the bed with no knives on it before whispering seductively in your ear.

”You can’t even fathom how long he’s been waiting to do this. You’ll be in for a long night, love.”

Seonghwa let his teeth graze your earlobe and relished in the little shiver you done. Impatient, Hongjoong pushed you down by your chest, unbuckling his belt and binding your wrists. Before you could even remark he held a larger knife up to your neck, pressing it down hard enough that any sudden movement would pierce the skin. Your head swam as you took shallow breaths, licking your lips in anticipation. You bit your lip however when you heard not one, but two zips being pulled at, Hongjoong chuckling at your reaction.

”Be a good pet and hold out your hand for Seonghwa babe, I think he’s too needy to wait his turn.”

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ NSFW Taglist !! ˊˎ-

@agustd-essert @hyuckilstan @a-soft-hornytiny @nyghtwolff-1117 @artemis-in-your-area @violetwinters @katelynnsqueendom @mxrksbxtch @yunhobabygurl @midnightbluesnow7 @itbecina @hwaluvvu @ccarpc @anpanseok @yunhosprettyhand @wooandtaeluvr @mingitheii @vilavixg @the-answer-is-love-yrself @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @taehyunscaramelfrappe @imwhoever @cactusmalassus @mrcarrots @ateezbabysitters @whatudowhennooneseesyou @owjohny @meowmeowminnie @cheline

Apply for the taglists here -> ꕥ༉‧₊˚.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

monster iii, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Mafia boss Min Yoongi and bodyguard Jeon Jungkook were probably going to tell you something important. Unfortunately, they interrupted you in the middle of a Stockholm-syndrome existential crisis. You all just end up fucking.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; violence (fighting); abuse; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, unprotected sex [get tested please], m and f-receiving oral (yep, at the same time), cum eating); non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (black-haired Daechwita AU), longhaired!tattooed!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; Jungkook has a praise kink and loves to suck cum out of you (that’s not a form of birth control, I am warning you right now); you have a pain kink

part i | part ii 

--

You sat alone.

This was very rare. You were never consciously alone, unless you were strapped down and in a straightjacket. If you were alone, you were usually unconscious, being punished, or both.

Was this a test?

There was nothing except a bed with fluffy pillows, soft sheets, and warm blankets. It had an iron frame, bolted to the floor. You expected nothing less. You sat on the hardwood floor in a large black sweatshirt, simple satin undergarments. Not prettied up, not made to be a trophy, not this time.

You looked around you, at the white walls and the one door that was most certainly locked. How long have you been here? How long have you been trapped in Min Yoongi’s web, pushed, pulled and torn apart? All because of Jeon Jungkook and his stupid strength. All because one moment of hesitation, forever engraved on Yoongi’s face.

You did that.

The thoughts suffocated you, dragging you into the darkness. You did not know hate. You did not know love. You only knew pain and you only knew kill. When had it become like this? When had you become something that even you didn’t know anymore? When had you been destroyed so completely? It was all their fault.

Min Yoongi. Jeon Jungkook.

All. Their. Fault.

The door opened.

You knew who it was. Heavy, thudding footsteps of black combat boots. Street clothes. Sharp pine. Another, sharper sound. Clean black oxfords, clicking against the hardwood. Mostly likely a nice suit. Fresh, linen-like scent. The door closed.

And you.

You.

What… what even are you?

Something ice-cold and scalding hot coursed through your veins. Every nerve, every muscle, alive. Every memory, collapsing, terrorizing you. What did you have before them? What was the you before the two? One job changed everything. A big enough stack of money was placed in front of you and you accepted like a fucking fool. Became a puppet, held up by two masters. You snapped your head up, their faces imprinted in your mind. Yoongi’s pale, thin face, heavy with dark circles. Jungkook’s angular, teasing smirk. You made no sound.

You just attacked.

Yoongi’s eyes flew open, barely having time to block your knee straight into his solar plexus. Jungkook tried to block you, but you drove an elbow straight into the side of his head, forcing him stagger back. Yoongi righted himself, but you ducked low, hooking your leg around his knees, causing him to buckle. You slammed your elbow down into his face. He dodged, hissing as you hit his shoulder. Someone was calling your name, but what was a name? You turned sharply, slipping away from Jungkook’s jab and striking his hip with your forearm, slinking down to avoid his right hook. Your hand twisted around, punching right under his left ribcage, making him gasp. Something flitted in Jungkook’s eyes for a millisecond. Tuck, spin, ad your heel smashed into his shin, making him howl in pain. The inside of Jungkook’s jacket flew open and you snatched his switchblade, flicking it open, and spinning around to face Yoongi, who was kneeling on the ground.

The silver blade glinted in the overhead light, a centimeter away from Yoongi’s neck.

You could slice it open right now.

You could end it all right now.

You…

Dark brown eyes glazed with pain stared at you underneath a curtain of black. His left hand was massaging his right shoulder where you had hit him. Your face was wet. Blood? Had you cut yourself in the scuffle?

Yoongi’s scarred hand reached up and brushed against your cheek.

“Why are you crying?” he murmured quietly.

The knife clattered to the ground.

You touched your face as if it was a foreign object. Pulled back. Wet with transparent liquid. You heard Jungkook crawling on the ground, throwing the knife aside. It thudded against the wall, stuck in the baseboard. Yoongi pulled his hand away. The clear wetness glistened on his fingertips. You stared at his hand. Your hand.

Your voice, rarely used, scratchy and raspy, shaking.

“Monsters… don’t cry.”

Your eyes found Yoongi’s. He was giving you this strange look.

Jungkook dragged himself up and grabbed you by the collar, yanking you towards him.

“Look at me,” he spat.

You tore your eyes away from Yoongi, irises quivering as you blinked at Jungkook. The tears were falling onto his hands. You never won versus Jungkook. One look at him and you knew you hadn’t won this time either. The way he looked at you – anger, jealousy, desperation, and something else – and the next second, his hands were around your neck. Not the lightheaded choking, either, but the real, thumbs on the trachea, actually crushing your windpipe kind of choking that made your breath disappear, your vision spot black. Your hands didn’t come up to stop him. To die by Jungkook’s hands… poetic.

“Hyung,” Jungkook warned, merciless.

“… Do what you want, Jungkook.”

Hollow. Blank. Emotionless.

Immediately, the air rushed back into you and you collapsed to the floor, coughing. Sputtering, badly bruised. Completely flat on the floor, as if you were subservient to a kneeling king. Yoongi. Your vision was blurry and hazy, fogged by nearly dying. Your hands pawed at the floor, finding fabric.

Gray denim. Pine.

Yoongi looked down at you.

“… Y… Yoongi…”

What was that ash-like rasp? You. Your fingers curled into his jeans, dragging your body towards him and his red scar, the one over his right eye. Your scar. Your mark.

“I… am nothing… Just a shell…”

Fingertips touched your forehead.

“Then let us fill you up.”

Why could you never tell what Yoongi was thinking? Why could you never know if he was lying or telling the truth? And why did it pain you so, not knowing if you were just a pawn or something more, anything more, even just a pet on a leash? You knew where you stood with Jungkook. With Jungkook it was easy. He dealt pain and you fought against it until your body couldn’t and you had to give in.

Two tools, molded by the same hands.

You felt yourself being picked up from the ground. Jungkook had taken off his blazer, rolled up his sleeves. His inked arm was around your chest, muscular forearm pressed just underneath your breasts. You reached to your left, fingers hooking on his belt. He stopped, forcing you on your tiptoes.

Your head turned slowly, eyes trailing up his white dress shirt. Pretty boy in a black tie, his long hair covering his eyes, slightly tied back.

“You always try to kill me,” you snarled, putting your full dead weight on his arm.

Jungkook’s lips curved into a small smile. The mole under his lower lip trembled slightly. Your heaviness didn’t bother him at all. He could probably bench press twice your weight.

“I only know how to kill and how to fuck,” he drawled. “And you want both.”

Jungkook hauled you up and carried you to the bed. Your eyes traveled to Yoongi’s hunched form. Olive parka, gray t-shirt. He was thinking deeply, not looking at you two. He seemed to feel your gaze and he glared at you beneath his eyelashes. His words echoed in your mind. Why are you crying? You found your hand outstretched towards him. Yoongi’s gaze softened, and then Jungkook threw you onto the bed.

You gasped, bouncing, pain racking through your body. Jungkook lunged at you and you scrambled backwards, trying to avoid him. Your back hit the iron headboard and you winced, white-hot sparks shooting up your spine. Jungkook grabbed your leg and yanked you down, your head banging the metal and making you see stars. Fuck, did he want you unconscious or what?

You heard his voice, a feral growl.

“Stop forgetting about me,” he hissed.

You gritted your teeth, hand on your head. “I am not, you asshole.”

His hand on your calf was a crushing grip and he crawled up you, head dipped low against your ear.

“I will never let him have you all to himself.”

Jungkook’s voice was so deep it was almost unreal. His black hair brushed against your cheek, words like daggers.

“Not even if I have to rearrange your mind.”

You could barely comprehend what that meant before Jungkook knocked the wind out of you, punching you right under the ribcage. If it wasn’t for the bed, you would have been fucked, but instead you slid up the sheets, friction burning you, lungs empty from the force. A strong hand caught your shoulder, pushing you down. Your mind was a haze, barely registering dark eyes and a red scar.

“I’m not going to take her from you, Jungkook.”

Your felt the ferocity diminish. Like a spell, Jungkook’s voice became small, appealing to his hyung.

“Hyung, I – please, I just…”

“Jungkook.” Yoongi’s voice was a warning. You slowly began to regain your senses, agony rocketing all throughout your nerves. “I already know.”

Jungkook whimpered. His hand was still clutching your leg, painfully so. He looked guilty and apologetic. Your eyes flickered up to Yoongi. His eyes were so dark that it was like looking into another universe. He raised a hand, beckoning Jungkook to him. Jungkook crawled above you, ignoring your grunts of discomfort as he pressed his weight down on you. His right hand was on your chest. You stared up the patterns – flowers, bones, words you didn’t understand. His tan skin glowed underneath, veins visible in his strain.

Yoongi cupped Jungkook’s cheek. A vicious growl vibrated low in your throat. They both ignored you.

“Jungkookie,” Yoongi mumbled quietly. “I am not angry at you.”

Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, doe eyes wide. His right hand reached up and stroked Yoongi’s fingers. It made the weight on his left hand, the one gripping your arm, heavier. You stiffened at the added discomfort, trying to get out of his grasp, but to no avail.

“Hyung…” So soft, pleading, acting like he wasn’t slowly crushing you with all of his muscle. At this moment, you might as well have been another sheet on the bed.

“Pretty boy.”

And then Yoongi kissed Jungkook.

Your eyes went wide. Your free hand clamped around Jungkook’s forearm, digging into his skin. Jungkook moaned into Yoongi’s mouth, little pink tongue grazing over Yoongi’s lips and Yoongi let him in, sucking gently. How dare he do this to you, make you watch, make you burn? Adrenaline shot through your body and you tried to push Jungkook off you, but Jungkook did not budge, pressing into Yoongi’s kiss, mewling into his mouth.

Yoongi had to break apart first, leaving Jungkook whining for more. His lips dripped with Jungkook’s saliva. He looked down at you.

And gave you an open-mouthed smirk.

This…

Bastard.

Jungkook made a pained noise and you ripped your gaze from Yoongi’s smugness. Your nails were making his left arm bleed. The smell of copper hit your nose and you let go, eyes immediately on his brown ones. His eyes were glazed, so drunk of Yoongi’s kiss that he didn’t remember to punish you. Or maybe he thought he deserved it. Either way, you were taken aback by his response.

“Flip her over.”

Like a robot, Jungkook grabbed you and turned you around, putting you on your hands and knees. The sleeves of your sweatshirt pooled around your hands, covering them. You looked up to see Yoongi shrugging off his jacket and getting on the bed. He grabbed your chin, pushing you up, breath on your face. Lips so close. Your name in his mouth, your heart stuttering at the sound.

“You want a kiss?”

You froze. The look in his eyes told you everything. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Go to hell.”

His lips curved to a cruel smile.

“You’re in it.”

You could feel Jungkook yank your panties down, but you were trapped by the tiger’s gaze, gritting your teeth. Yoongi reached into his pocket and pulled out his switchblade. Jungkook took your arms and pinned them behind you, lifting up your torso. You snapped your teeth, jaw taut. Silver blade against black fabric. Slice, slice. Your sweatshirt turned into ribbons, shredded by Yoongi’s deft work. You didn’t even flinch as light, shallow cuts burst across your skin, pooling droplets of blood. They stung, but your rage was stronger. Yoongi turned the knife, the cool, blunt side against your sternum.

It slid right between the cups of your bra. You could hear the fabric ripping, tearing apart like your sanity.

“You know what you are?” Yoongi purred.

“What?” you hissed savagely.

His eyes raked over your body. Against your mind, your skin heated up at his gaze, craving his attention. Your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping wet. The last thread snapped and your breasts were free, the useless cups hanging off your arms. Nipples already hard, begging to be touched.

His dark orbs connected with yours.

“My beautiful monster.”

His pretty words soothed you only to torture you again. Every time, you thought you were prepared and, yet, every time you were breathless. Those dark eyes sparkled and captured your soul. If there was a time you wanted to escape, you could no longer remember it now. You tried to remind yourself, you’re a mercenary. You feel nothing for human life. And Yoongi always dragged you back down, back into Jungkook’s arms. Those strong arms crossing over your chest right now and squeezing your tits hard, so hard you gasped, Yoongi’s triumphant smirk the last thing you saw before Jungkook rammed his cock into you.

Jungkook’s nails ran over your nipples and you threw your head back, biting back your moans. He hadn’t even bothered to take off his clothes. You could feel his slacks and his dress shirt rub against your skin as his cock slammed into you, your pussy clamping around him like a vice. Your entire body bounced at the force of his thrusts, your juices dripping onto the sheets. The tiny cuts on your skin had already clotted, but they stung like hellfire as Jungkook’s hands roamed all over you. He grabbed one of your breasts and flicked your nipple hard. A hissing whine thinned out from your closed lips.

“Who’s inside you?” Jungkook growled, pounding you from below.

Fuck, he was making you talk. “J-Jungkook,” you grinded out, wincing as a particularly wet squelch punctuated the head of his cock smacking your cervix. Fucking shit.

“Say it,” he panted, twisting your nipple hard. A pained cry escaped your lips. “Say it!”

Shit, say what? You scrunched up your face, racking your brain as you caught Yoongi’s eye. He mouthed the words at you.

Oh. Of course.

He pinched both of your nipples and pulled, tearing the words out of you.

“Fuck, Jungkook, you’re a fucking good boy!”

He gasped behind you, whimpering moan against your ear before he sunk his teeth into your shoulder. Your entire body spasmed in pain as he exploded inside you, cum swelling inside. You shuddered, moaning softly as he stretched you out. The next second you were pushed down by a strong hand on your back, ass high in the air. You felt Jungkook’s cum leak slightly and then a hot, wet tongue slap against your clit.

You nearly screamed.

Jungkook buried his face into your folds, sucking his cum out of your pussy. Stars bloomed across your vision as Jungkook lapped at your clit, breathing hard into you. You moaned his name, face pressed into the sheets, pleasure overwhelming you. You felt a hand grip your hair and head, dragging you up to your elbows. You could barely function as you came all over Jungkook’s face, his groan vibrating your pussy, smearing it everywhere with his tongue.

It was a fucking mess.

Yoongi peered at your fucked-out face, amused. He smelled so good, so close to you. His jeans and underwear were pulled down, cock right in your face. He used his free hand to pry open your mouth, fingers pressing against your tongue. You could do nothing but obey, sucking on his fingers. Yoongi’s breathing hitched. Your heart skipped a beat.

He removed his hand and shoved his cock into your mouth.

You made a muffled noise of protest, but Yoongi ignored you, rolling his hips into your mouth. He pushed you back so the head of his cock rubbed against the roof of your mouth before it slid down into your throat. You would not gag. You refused to. You got on your hands, head hazy because Jungkook was still ravaging your clit with his tongue, and moved your head yourself, earning a sharp inhale. Yoongi let go of your hair. You bobbed up and down, tongue rubbing just under the head, teasing the opening.

“You wanted my cock that bad, hm?” Yoongi taunted.

You glared at him from below and went deeper, tightening your throat muscles. For a split second, pure ecstasy flashed in his eyes and a moan slid out of his lips. Tight, wet, fast, blood pounding in your ears. His cock throbbed in your mouth but you didn’t care, your hands coming up and grabbing his hips, ramming him into your face. He smelled so fucking good. You felt your pussy leaking from Yoongi’s taste. Jungkook lapped it up greedily, making you moan around Yoongi’s cock.

The vibrations made Yoongi whisper your name. You cocked an eyebrow at him, humming. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, tipping his head back. Fuck. You grew wetter seeing your effect on him. You could understand Jungkook a little better now. Something inside spurred you to suck harder and go faster. Yoongi clenched his jaw and his teeth sunk into his lower lip, tongue tucked into his cheek. You dug your nails into his skin, message loud and clear.

Give it to me.

Yoongi growled, your name tumbling from his lips as he shoved your head down. You almost choked on his cock. He shot down your throat, painting his mark in you, his taste flooding your mouth. You swallowed, starved for Yoongi’s bitter taste, making your pussy clench around Jungkook’s tongue. Your gulping was audible, noisy. Yoongi chuckled, holding you down. You drank it all. There was no other choice.

After what felt like years, Yoongi let you go. You coughed, breathing haggard. You almost slid down, but Yoongi grabbed your shoulders and pressed his lips to yours.

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes slid closed, intoxicated. You pressed against him, holding onto the front of his shirt. The shredded pieces of your leftover clothing fell off of you. You longed for skin against skin, kissing him deep. He teased your tongue, sucking on it. The idea of him tasting himself made your rub your nipples against his chest. He smirked into the kiss.

You cracked your eyes open. Yoongi was watching you, smug as fuck. You shoved him away and he laughed wickedly. You wanted to say something but your bit your tongue, livid. He was doing to on purpose. Yoongi’s strong hands gripped your hips, yanking you to him. Jungkook’s saliva slid down your thighs. You almost punched him, but he was pulling his t-shirt over his head before pressing his body against yours.

“O-oh…”

His pale skin was cool compared to yours. Yoongi pinned you against him, wet cock slapping between your thighs. You swallowed, your abused nipples rubbing against his bare chest. His skin was scarred, imperfect, just like you. His fingers traced a pattern on your back. You could barely hear Jungkook flinging his clothes aside.

“Mmm, why so serious?” he said breathily against your cheek.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re a tease. A trap.”

His smirk revealed his gums. “No. Not today.”

Then he pushed you back down on the bed, reversed so your head was next to Jungkook’s hips. Your legs were tangled under you and you straightened them as Yoongi shoved his jeans and underwear off, tossing them aside carelessly. Your entire body tensed at what came next.

And, of course, the moment was ruined because Jungkook planted his crotch in your face.

His cock missed your lips and slid across your neck, leaking a line over your throat. You could smell your own cum clinging to his skin. His balls were right in front of your lips. Before he could reposition, you latched your mouth on one. He yelped, then moaned as you firmly held up his muscular thighs, sucking hard. It tasted like you and him mixed together. You licked his balls anyway, undeterred.

“Ah, hyung…” Jungkook was saying, pissing your off further. “Feels so good.”

You were right there and yet Jungkook was focused on Yoongi. Asshole. His cock was leaking everywhere, smearing all over your chest and neck. You heard Yoongi chuckle, raising your ass and spreading your legs.

“Open your mouth. Show me your pretty tongue.”

Jungkook moaned and Yoongi thrust into you. Your eyes widened, surprised he was still hard. You moved between Jungkook’s balls, sucking one and then the other. You could hear him whine, probably fixated on Yoongi’s cock pumping in and out of you. Whereas Jungkook always went multiple, fast, rough, Yoongi went deep, purposefully, hard. Fuck, it felt so good. Too good. You moaned, Jungkook’s balls falling out of your mouth.

“Yoongi, oh, Yoongi…”

Jungkook took the moment to shove his cock in your mouth. You made a very disgruntled noise, his cock hitting your raw throat. He leaned forward, giving you a little room to breathe.

“Let me help you, hyung.”

Help? Shit!

You squealed around his cock. Jungkook’s fingertip pushed through your folds, pinching the bundle of nerves. You whined, shoving your head into the sheets. The bottom of the head of his cock rubbed against the back of your throat and Jungkook groaned, rubbing your clit. Your cries were muffled by dick, pussy throbbing around Yoongi’s cock, sucking him in. Yoongi purred, satisfied. One of his hands ran through Jungkook’s long hair, petting him.

“Is it good, hyung?” Jungkook panted, looking up at him. You could barely see, Jungkook’s balls smacking you in the nose.

“Mmm-hmm,” Yoongi mumbled, sighing softly. “Clever boy.”

Jungkook humped your face. Your hiss was muffled once again. Yoongi was deliberately avoiding the magic words and you were suffocating on dick for it. Jungkook pressed harder, nearly vibrating on your clit. You gasped and Jungkook’s cock buried deeper in your throat. Black haze polluted your peripheral vision as pleasure shot up your hips, your pussy clenching around Yoongi. Yoongi moaned deeply.

Every time he said your name, you melted.

Jungkook was feverish, not realizing that you were probably going to pass out from lack of air and overwhelming pleasure. It built up inside you, violent, until you were nearly screaming around his dick, hoarse and guttural as you squeezed Yoongi’s cock hard, liquid spurting out and sliding between your ass cheeks. There was a sharp exhale and Yoongi burst inside you, cum shooting into you one again. Tears stung in the corners of your eyes.

“Mmm, such a helpful, good boy, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook moaned and shot his load down your throat. You swallowed painfully, the cum burning down your battered throat. Thankfully, Jungkook was getting soft, finally allowing you to breathe. You coughed; face covered in various bodily fluids.

Yoongi slid out. You whimpered quietly, hoping he wouldn’t hear. He pinched your leg and you exhaled in annoyance. You felt your hips being lifted from the bed. Jungkook removed himself from your mouth and scooted up. You were very nearly on your upper back, a fucking pretzel in Jungkook’s desperation. His mouth latched onto your pussy once again and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Wet, rapid lapping of your tight hole before he drank from your folds. Jungkook was sucking Yoongi’s cum out of you like the damn Holy Grail.

Yoongi chuckled, eyes drifting down to you. You couldn’t do anything, your entire body spent. His red scar gleamed, eyes glittering with chaos.

You weren’t sure if he was a genius or a psychopath.

--

masterpost

[hyungieyoongi]

Epilogue: “Run Away to You” Part 7

To the person who never stopped supporting and loving me, even when I ran away from him – I promise from now on to always run away to you.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Angst (if you squint) + Fluff (nobody look at me I’m so soft)

Warning: Brief mention of reader’s panic attacks and mental health

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 6 \\

--- 

One year later...

You stood in the wings to the right of the stage, watching Yoongi stand side-by-side with his fellow members as they took their final bow. The love and energy from ARMY was overwhelming, your heart swelling with pride as you saw the look of pure happiness radiating from Yoongi and the rest of the boys.

BTS had held a series of surprise concerts in the past couple of months, and tonight was the last one in Seoul. Yoongi had made sure you attended each one with him, no matter where it was in the world. He told you he had always wanted to travel with you.

You looked out into the stadium, ARMY bombs lighting up the seats, illuminating the arena with a wash of purple light. You smiled, tears coming to your eyes at the beauty of it all.

As you took in the sight, you couldn’t help but reminisce on the past few months with Yoongi and everything you both went through to get to this moment.

You had been honest with the world in your video, explaining that you had to step away from your career for your mental health. You opened up about dealing with panic attacks and the toxic pressure of the acting industry. You explained how you needed to get your creativity and passion back for new projects by disappearing for a little while. There were so many people who had sent you messages of love and support, welcoming you back with positivity and warmth.

But the other side was picking you apart relentlessly. They accused you of trying to use Yoongi to get back into the spotlight now that you had gotten tired of living the “normal” life. They were saying that the pictures of you and Yoongi were all a ploy to get attention to restart your acting career.

If only they knew how much trouble those pictures had caused you.

You remember how you found it ironic how much the first few weeks of your life back in the public eye were so like your life when you first went into hiding. Moving into a new apartment, donning baseball hats and masks whenever you stepped outside, the threat of unwanted and uncontrolled publicity controlling your every move.

You had to have security with you, especially in the early days. The press wanted to get the scoop on your disappearance and your time with Yoongi, often flanking you with cameras if you popped out to get a coffee or go to the store.

Yoongi’s label put out an official statement to explain away the potential romantic implications of the picture, saying that the two of you knew each other from your time in the business and you were “old friends.” They cautioned the two of you to avoid being seen alone together in public, but Yoongi put his foot down, telling the label that you were not going to be hidden away forever.

Your publishing company was thrilled to hear that you no longer wanted to publish your book under a pseudonym; your name recognition was guaranteed to start a buzz around your upcoming release. Yoongi would often try to peak over your shoulder when you were working together, trying to read what you were writing. You would tease him, telling him he had to wait to read it just like everyone else.

Not to mention you were a little nervous to tell him that the story that you were writing was not-so-loosely inspired by your own relationship with him.

Navigating the public world again was made better by having Yoongi there with you, albeit privately at first. You would often have dinner with the boys or go watch Yoongi rehearse when you weren’t in editorial meetings or writing your book.  

Being in love with him again had been the easy part.

The harder part was the conversations late at night about when and how you wanted to go public. You both were trying to balance the needs of his job as an idol with your timidness over putting too much of yourself back out there too soon. You were attempting to show the world your genuine personality this time around. There was no production company to impress or an acting job that was dependent on your popularity; you were just hopeful that his fans would be more receptive to your relationship if they already felt like they knew the real you. You never wanted to go back to feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of the pressure.

You decided as a couple on a deadline – six months. After six months of dating privately, you had to decide whether you wanted to be together publicly.

Yoongi came to your apartment six months later, looking pale with nerves and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. You hadn’t spoken over the past two days, wanting to give each other the space to decide what was best on your own.

You told him you had already made your choice the night when you went to dinner with him and the boys at his apartment – you weren’t about to change your mind. He carelessly dropped the flowers on the ground, sweeping you up into his arms.

You both knew that you would face backlash, maybe even some hate, but you were stronger together than apart. He was it for you, and you weren’t going to let him go just like he promised you he wouldn’t. It hadn’t been easy, but it certainly was worth it.

You turned your head to watch as the boys waved goodbye, exiting stage right and stage left. Yoongi walked toward the side of the stage with purpose, eyes alight with adrenaline. You smiled brightly at him, his arms coming around you as he practically collided with you, head landing between your shoulder and neck as he breathed out heavily. Your hands instinctively went to his head, running your hands through his slightly sweaty locks as his heart rate came down from the high of the concert.

“You were amazing, Yoongs,” you told him. He leaned back, placing a firm kiss on your lips, surprising you. When he pulled back you were greeted with a gummy smile. Staff started to flutter around you, dabbing Yoongi with a towel and handing him an open bottle of water. You stepped away to let them through, not wanting to interfere with their jobs. Before you could move too far away, his hand reached through the bodies surrounding him, searching for your own. You wrapped your fingers around his, Yoongi using the grip to pull you back to be closer to him.

The staff adjusted to your presence again, shuffling you both along toward his dressing room. Intertwining your fingers with his, he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your knuckles. You thought you saw Jin amidst the flurry of activity, hearing a distinctive laugh that you were pretty positive was directed toward the blatant show of public affection between yourself and Yoongi since he got off the stage.

With how lucky you felt in that moment, you couldn’t seem to find it in yourself to care.

---

“Remember, I warned you that you might not like the book. I was dealing with a lot when I started writing it, and I promise I changed the characters enough. Only you or I will even notice the similarities. I mean, the characters get a happy ending and so did we, but…” you were rambling, your newly printed hard copy gripped firmly in your hands. 

A week after his final surprise concert wrapped, you had come over to Yoongi’s apartment to gift him the copy of your book you had promised him, but you were reluctant to actually let it go. Yoongi was trying – and failing – to get it from you, leaning back with an exasperated sigh when he realized you weren’t going to budge.

“We have been dating for over a year now, Y/N, I think I can handle the fictional book version of our relationship,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“But it might bring up old memories. Bad memories,” you said quietly, averting your eyes. Yoongi propped your chin up with his index finger forcing you to look at him.

“Stop worrying so much. Our past is the reason why we are together now. I’m not scared of it anymore,” Yoongi admitted with a nonchalant shrug. Your cheeks burned, Yoongi chuckling at your pink face before kissing you sweetly. Even after all this time, you still became flustered at his romantic gestures.

You finally handed the book over.

“You should probably check the dedication page first,” you murmured, slightly embarrassed. Yoongi’s lips quirked up in a smirk, slowly flipping to the dedication page in the copy of your book in his hands. His expression changed to something unreadable and soft as he read the words dedicated to him:

To the person who never stopped supporting and loving me, even when I ran away from him – I promise from now on to always run away to you.

I love you.

You held your breath as you watched him read the page twice, your knee jumping up and down in nervous anticipation. Yoongi put his hand on your knee, stopping your movements. He leaned forward, your book still in his other hand. You felt yourself instinctively move closer to him, seeming to melt into his warmth.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into your ear.

He would always be your happy ending.

Part 6 \\

---

To everyone who read and followed along with this fic – it has meant so much to me to have people read this little series of mine and interact with it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 

Taglist: @loveyoongles​​​ @agustd-2020​​​ @delacyrose224​​​ @sunshinejunghoseokie​​​ @jinsearthh​​​ @alpacaparkaseok​​​ @sheebaba​​​ @diamonddia-mond​​​ @dearyoongii​​​ @tarahardcore​​​ @kawaiiixchan

Check out my other work! ❤️

[hisunshiine]

— armypedia 🧩  yoongi

Chapter 2: Yoongi: Blind Trust

⟢ pairing: none

⟢ credit: co-written with @heathfritillary​​ ♡

⟢ genre: horror au | thriller au | angst | minor smut | thriller/spooky |

⟢ rating: 18+ | mature themes & explicit content

⟢ story warnings: Horror, Psychological Horror, Violence, Kidnapping, Torture, Pain, Delusional Thinking, Explicit Language, Minor Character Death, Weapons, Fire, Blood, Additional Warnings Identified This Chapter: mentions of anxiety, vision issues, open wounds

⟢ wc: 2,313

⟢ summary: Wanna play a game? 🧩 The members of BTS find themselves awakening, one by one, seemingly abducted and with no clue as to what is going on. Soon, they'll have to piece together puzzles designed specifically for the KPOP group as they are forced to participate in a sick game of life and death, conducted by someone who has a point to prove. This eight chaptered horror fanfic takes inspiration from the movie franchise, Saw.

⟢ author’s note: thanks for reading for spooky season. please remember this is a work of fiction. we love all of the members equally and very much. this is only for spooky season. please respect their privacy irl.

                     | armypedia masterlist | hisunshiine masterlist | 

Head pounding, it’s hard for Yoongi to lift his chin off of his chest and open his eyes. His neck aches, and his shoulder smarts from the old injury. The muscles must have sat at an odd angle for some time for the injury to flare up. After several seconds, Yoongi is finally able to clear some of the swimming feeling in his brain and take note of his circumstance. A heavy weight is pressed against his lower abdomen, and it’s dark except for the dim glare of a glowing set of keys in front of him. Feeling for the source of the weight, his fingers trace the cool metal of interlocking oval cable chains. 

Yoongi tries to stand, but the chain is too tight; he is unable to move from the chair. His heart begins to race, he doesn’t like feeling confined to this chair, doesn’t like the darkness, and can’t stand the unknown of what is going on. His hands begin to move frantically, searching for the end of the chain, his body leaning over to the side attempting to trace its origin, but it’s no use. His breathing is loud, practically the only thing he can hear other than the sound of the blood racing through his arteries and veins, and it takes everything within him to not yell out in panic, despite the feeling of impending doom in his chest. 

The air in the room feels stale, with Yoongi’s body temperature rising due to his anxiety. He knows he must be turning red, and tries to remember what his therapist taught him. Breathe in deeply for 7, hold for 4, breathe out for 7. Yoongi tries to count in his head, following the technique, and when he places his hands on the desk, he hits the keyboard, which awakens the computer monitor on the desk in front of him.

The glare helps him see, giving awareness to the fact that he is in a rundown concrete walled room. He’s about to grab the mouse, when a rustling sound causes him to freeze. Yoongi’s heart begins to pound. He’s not alone.

“Min Yoongi.” A distorted voice comes from the computer speakers, and the screen that was once blank white now showcases a brown circle with eyes. His BT21 character, Shooky, is on the screen, it’s face contorted into a menacing look. Yoongi’s attention locks onto the screen.

“You once were devoted to the fans, who helped make you who you are. But now, you are self-centered, only caring about what ARMY can do for you, and not what you can do for ARMY.” 

Yoongi doesn’t understand. He has always been about his fans, especially ARMY who support not only BTS but his solo ventures as AgustD and a producer. He tugs at the chain around his waist, trying desperately to get free. 

“On the computer is a deconstructed song of yours. You have so many, but I’m sure you should be able to figure it out. Put this song back together and click submit before time runs out, Min Yoongi, or you’ll never be able to create songs again. The chain will pull you back into position and the jar of screws and nails will detonate in your face. Good luck being able to see after that. Remember Min Yoongi, see what is important, or lose your ability to see what is truly most precious to you.” A timer appears on a screen on the wall above the computer that had previously been overlooked by Yoongi. 

Simultaneously, the computer monitor goes black before opening back up to a screen that looks similar to the program he uses for producing tracks, except that at the bottom right there is now a red button that says SUBMIT. Yoongi can see all the components needed to create a track off to the side, but deconstructed as the Shooky had said. Each sound of the snare or bass is its own sound again, and for a 3 minute or so song, it would take some time to properly place each instrument sound correctly. It appears that some sounds were added to throw him off as well. Yoongi tugs at his hair, unsure of where to start. 

“Ah..” 

A soft cry sounds from behind Yoongi, who tenses up. He had thought the rustling sound he heard earlier was just a fluke, and once Shooky had delivered it’s message, he had forgotten about it, forgotten to even assess the room now that more light was filtering in from the monitor.  Yoongi turns in the chair quickly. 

“H—Hello? I can hear you! Who are you?!” A shaky voice, scared though trying hard to not show it fills the quiet of the room. Yoongi can make out a blindfolded woman standing about  20 feet from him. Where she is standing is surrounded by broken shards of glass; they litter the concrete floor which she is standing barefoot upon. He rolls a little closer to her, but not much due to the heavy chain around his waist. 

“Answer me! W-Who’s there?”

“My name is Min Yoongi..”

“Stop fucking with me!” The woman takes a step forward, but lets out a painful squeal as the soft flesh of her foot makes contact with a shard of glass. It pierces her foot, enough so that Yoongi can see the blood drip from her foot and coat several pieces.

“I’m not.. Please be careful, there’s glass all around you.”

“Please let me go, please… I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Her voice is panicked, high pitched as she begs Yoongi to free her. “I don’t know what I did to make you mad, I swear, I thought I was going to a BTS event, please I promise I won’t say anything.”

Her bound hands try to go to her eyes but the rope wraps around her waist, not allowing her hands to reach her face.  Despite the blindfold, Yoongi can tell she is crying by the way her shoulders shake and the muffled cries she tries to stifle.

“Hey, hey, listen to my voice. It’s me, Min Yoongi.”

The crying quiets down enough, so Yoongi speaks again. This time the woman appears to recognize his voice.

“Yoongi? Why would you—Why are you holding me here?”

“I’m not, listen, we don’t have much time. I have to get us out of here, but I need to recreate a song in order to do so. Fuck, there’s not much time.”

Yoongi turns back to the computer, swiping at the sweat forming along his hairline. The temperature seems to have gotten hotter, as if the AC is off, and it’s only adding to his inability to focus. He begins clicking on sounds, trying to find something to help him recognize what the song is that he is recreating. He plays several random snare sounds, some high pitched piano notes, and cymbals. 

“That sounds like, um… I think those sounds are from your mixtape, Yoongi.” 

Yoongi had been so immersed in trying to recognize the sounds he almost didn’t hear the soft voice of the blindfolded woman. 

“You recognize this?”

“I told you, I thought I was going to a BTS event… I’m a fan. ARMY. I’m actually Suga biased.” It was weird how calm she was able to share this information, what with her foot bleeding and being kidnapped. But something about Yoongi being with her calmed her nerves, even if only slightly given the circumstances.

“I think, if you find the vocal track, that might help you navigate recreating the track. I think it’s Strange.”

Yoongi turns away from the computer, giving his full attention to the woman.

“What’s strange?”

“The song. Featuring RM. I think those sounds belong to Strange from D2.”

Yoongi feels dumb momentarily, but then realizes something.

“Hey, what’s your name?” 

“Um, it’s Moon Jisoo.”

“Jisoo, I’m going to lead you through the glass okay? I think you’re right.”

“Okay.”

“Just trust me, okay. I won’t hurt you.”

“I trust you Yoongi.”

Carefully, almost painstakingly, Yoongi leads Jisoo through a maze of broken glass, guiding her feet cautiously to the spots that are free from glass. It took no more than 5 minutes, but glancing at the clock, Yoongi knows he’s used up almost half of the time, which is precious to putting together a song, let alone one that he knows has so many different components to the beat.

“Yoongi? I’m getting really hot.” Jisoo fans at herself as best as she can with bound hands, and Yoongi nods before remembering that she can’t see him.

“Me too. Shit.” Yoongi pulls his shirt over his head, it’s almost overbearing now how hot it is growing in the room. 

Turning back to Jisoo, she follows the last of his directives and is clear of the glass. She falls to her knees once Yoongi tells her she is free from it, and he beckons her to his voice.

“Let me remove the binding and blindfold.”

She kneels in front of him, and he can’t help but feel like in different circumstances, he would enjoy this a lot more. Searching the desk, he finds kid safe scissors in a pen holder. They take a few tries, but he’s able to free her hands from the binding. A sigh of relief falls from her lips, and Yoongi is gentle as his hands move to her face, careful with disrobing the blindfold.

“How’s that?” He asks, voice gentle as he grips her chin to face him. 

“No difference, Yoongi. I—I’m blind.”

His brows furrow, and her eyes stare at him, but more like she’s staring through him.

“Now solve this thing so we can get out of here. I’ll help you in any way I can.” Jisoo stands, and feels around like she is looking for a chair or table.

Yoongi nods, remembering the ticking time bomb that is literally awaiting him should he fail and takes Jisoo’s wrist in his hand.

“There’s no other place to sit other than my lap, don’t worry, if we don’t solve it, when there’s 30 seconds left you can hide behind my chair.”

“What? No!”

“Yes, Jisoo, but let’s figure this out so neither of us has to worry.”

Pulling her gently, she sits on his lap, and he reaches around her to utilize the mouse. Yoongi zones into the music, following Jisoo’s advice to find the vocal track first, and she was right, it was Strange. That helps Yoongi more than she could know, as he is able to rebuild the track around this piece. It’s meticulous, making sure that it sounds identical to the real version on his mixtape, but Jisoo offers help. 

“I love this song, Yoongi, I would know it anywhere. Don’t forget, since I’m blind, my ears are exceptional.”

He grunts an affirmation of reply, dragging sound bits to their spot in the program. She shifts on his lap, uncomfortable from the heat.

“Fuck, it’s still missing something.” Yoongi tugs at his hair, closing his eyes as he breathes in the humid air. It’s only gotten hotter, sweat dripping uncomfortably down his chest. Jisoo sitting on his lap adds to the discomfort, but with her hurt foot, he refuses to ask her to stand. She’s a victim in all of this too, and has been a great help to him.

“Play it all the way through, let me hear it.” Jisoo asks quietly, and Yoongi obliges, reminding her that they are now down to 9 minutes. 

“I can play it maybe two more times, Jisoo...”

“Shhh!” Jisoo shushes Yoongi, paying attention to the track playing.

“There! Right after RM says ‘oh baby what’s your name’, the beat picks back up in the original. You never have the beat drop off!”

Yoongi clicks the mouse several times, Jisoo can hear him frantically clicking and dragging the mouse across the desk. 

“Okay, one last run through, Jisoo, get behind my chair. And take this, cover your face with it.”

Jisoo feels soft cotton being pushed into her hands as Yoongi scoots the chair back so she can stand.

“No, Yoongi, use it to protect yourself instead.”

“Jisoo, I’m not letting you get hurt anymore than you already have. You helped me an insane amount and I think we did it. I’d feel better if you had it. Please.”

Jisoo wants to argue back, but it’s drowned out by the sound of the track playing. Using her hands to guide her, she moves behind Yoongi’s chair, clutching his shirt in her hands as she kneels down, listening. She hears a strange sound of metal on metal and feels the chair move closer to the desk as she 

“Yoongi!” He can feel her stand to speak over the music in his ear. “It’s missing the cymbals right at the end! When you stop rapping!”

“Oh, shit… fuck fuck fuck.”

Jisoo knows the time must be almost up by now; the song is over 3 minutes long and he’s played it twice now, making minor adjustments.

“Kneel back down, I’m submitting it, there’s seconds left, fuck. Fuck.”

Jisoo hears Yoongi take a shuddering breath in before the click of the mouse. 

Bracing themselves, both tense up as they wait for the explosion. A loud grinding of metal sounds causing them both to flinch as Jisoo cries out.

“Congratulations Min Yoongi. What is most precious to you is not your music, but ARMY.”

The distorted voice is gone as fast as it came, and Yoongi feels the pull of the heavy chain release and he is able to stand up. A loud unlocking sound of the door startles him into movement, and as the chains fall uselessly to the wayside, he takes Jisoo’s hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Yoongi leads Jisoo towards the door, as she clings to his bare and sweating torso, hopefully out into safety.