#but yet im enticed (alcoholism)

[yatiso]

ran out of alchie haul early but everything is closed :,( except for the place that severely over charges :,( man …

[vminity21]

Goodbye to Hello | jjk

Pairing: badboy!jeongguk x female!reader

Word Count: 25,102

Genre: fluff, lots of smut oops, mega-angst, strangers to lovers!au, fuckboy/fuckgirl!au

Warning(s): profanity, infidelity, mega-angst (im sorry), mention of alcohol, smoking, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m + f receiving), slight m!dom, nipple play, hand job, dirty talk, ice play, ass grabbing, mention of a sex toy, squirting, hobi is a bad boy in this too, multiple orgasms, smutty kissing, reader may or may not have accidentally become a fuckgirl in this story sorry not sorry; Rated: 18+

Credit to: @yoonoclock for making such an incredible cover for this story that has taken me two long years to write. It’s finally where I need it to be and thank you so much Monnie for using your talent to create a banner that truly embodies the story.

Taglist: thank you so much for your patience with me! @ggukkieland @thisartemisnevermisses @moonchild1 @familiarlikemymirror3 @gukniverse​

Summary: After a devastating break up, you immediately move in with your sister, leaving behind the country life to relearn the ups and downs of the city. Adopting a cat and gaining a new job at a retail store part time, life seems to gradually bring happiness and healing, but you did not expect for it to become even more interesting when you stumble upon the enticing yet alluring tattoo artist, Jeon Jeongguk. Will this be an adventure of a lifetime? Or will hello always lead to goodbye?

Golden specks twinkle sporadically like fairy dust creating a shimmering tint to the air that collects the attention of any individual trailing the pavement. Pollen. The groovy excitement of a stuffy nose and mildly itchy eyes sounds stellar compared to how you could be feeling. Sniffling roughly, you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily to relieve what little of the itch that you can and trotting up the steps to your realm of refuge, you can hardly stand the excitement of bundling into the arms of your boyfriend, Jung Hoseok, and relaying how lovely it is to wipe your nose every five minutes. Maybe even ask if you can borrow the sleeve of his sweatshirt as a tissue. Pause. Maybe not.

Entering the rental home, you hadn’t noticed how eerily quiet it seemed, not right away; especially when you are so used to hearing the raging shots of a video game mingled with the yelling profanity between Hoseok and his best friend Kim Namjoon who bicker over headsets about wins that neither of them were really close to. But, let the males believe, they indeed, almost triumphed. Settling your handbag onto the dining table, you tilt your head in confusion. Is Hobi sick today? Where is he?

The floors creak beneath your tennis shoes while you observe the kitchen. That’s funny. The dishes are cleaned and put away, and not one stray of lint is seen upon the countertop- Hoseok has always been clean as well as you, but he never went over the top unless he had company over, and by company you mean his mother. Thoughts drift to the possibility of him wanting to surprise you for whatever the case may be, and your heart flutters at the mere inkling while a smirk graces your lips. How thoughtful, you feel gushy at his consideration of you, and your steps follow the direction of your bedroom.

It is then that your life spirals in a cluster of emotions that you will never forget; sparks dancing in your vision while your chest tightens intensely in response to the sounds you hear echoing beyond the door. No. You want to scream, but your throat constricts, not producing any verbalization no matter how much your brain signals. This can’t be real. Please don’t let this be real. The moans persist. The mystery female is eagerly gasping his name over and over while your heart shudders at the pain severing every vein within your frame. A tear falls panging the floor- your body is so tense, you shiver through the anxiety, and you know deep down that confronting him will hurt even worse than if you were to take the high road and walk away.

Wiping the dampness from your eyes, you spin to compile your things as in your handbag that contains your wallet, car key, and cellphone, and you march outside, slamming the front door behind you to shed some of the anger boiling in your system; you could care less if he heard your grand exit or not for you blocked his number before you settled into your car. You may be able to run from him, but you cannot run from the excruciating pain erupting beneath your chest nor the cycle of questions that refuse to stop spinning because why? After three years together, why would he betray you like this?

The front door flings open. Hoseok runs onto the porch in pure panic, hair disheveled, only in boxers, mouth gaping open as his widened eyes search until they lock with yours. But it’s too late. You are already safe within your car. Even when you notice the slim figure of a woman in one of his t-shirts, you do not move your gaze. You let the stare down with your boyfriend linger enough to rest your case. The second he starts rushing down the porch steps in a way to catch up to you for whatever meaningless apologies- meaningless explanations that will pour from his mouth- is when you reverse onto the road.

Behind the steering wheel with no destination in mind, you come up with the only solution you find reasonable, and you make your way to the city with the intention of starting over, even if it means it destroys you.

-

A queue of ants scurry along the lining of the windowsill where the sun tinges the glass against your knuckles. Shrivel sounds of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence of the kitchen while you gulp the final bite of your snack. Sometimes when your hands feel cold, you leave it to the sun to indulge your skin with warmth before trekking to your room, but instead, the growling of your stomach and the distraction of observing the insects seems to help with the boredom. Dread happens to consume the depths of your chest at the subtle reminder of returning to work in the morning; Sundays always bring the feeling of woe because it is the end of relaxation before continuing the week of being overwhelmed. But you figure adulting is worth it in some ways, and as everyone else, you must work to provide and live.

The chirp of your cat, Kenai, alerts your attention, him pouncing onto the counter to rub his head along your free wrist. “If you’re hungry, just say so,” you coo sarcastically, knowing he is due for his dinner in a few minutes. He will be a year old soon, his yellow eyes squinting as he rubs his head against your palm before arching his back once you run your hand to the end of his tail. Your eyes flit back to the ants darting in search of whatever they need, and inwardly, you are uncertain how your sister, Monnie would feel about the bugs, but you always found them fascinating.

Jumping off the counter, Kenai excitingly follows suit, twirling against your legs as you saunter to the pantry to retrieve his food. You have officially lived with your sister for a year now, and adopting Kenai was one of the best decisions you have ever made besides moving to the city. It is as if you disappeared from the prior life that you once lived and you like it just that way. Kenai temporarily ditches you for his food, and you stroll off to the living room where the scenery of a huge, flat screen television shows your reflection on the empty screen.

Monnie happens to be a successful artist who fell in love with another known artist by the name of Min Yoongi. Together they have won the world with their talent, and you could not have asked for a better couple to be in your life. If there is a true definition of love, it is how Yoongi gazes at your sister- because she is the only woman in the world, he will do anything and everything for. Jokingly, you always tell the pair that you are just going to stick with your cat, but the sadness that etches within Monnie’s eyes reveals that she hopes you will find a good man of your own. She is aware of why you abruptly returned to the place you were birthed, and she is aware that you refuse to speak of it even if it is pent up to the brim of imploding.

When you met your ex, it was in a park of all places. Not high school, not college, not through a family member or a friend: a park. It was a romantic way to begin even though you will never admit it now, but it started so naturally. So simple. You were reading a book while he was creating one. The way you were poised apparently sparked an idea for a story he openly confessed later on in the courtship. He described the scenery around you and how enwrapped in the book you were as something meant to be written for others to discover. How he could imagine a story just from the vision you had no idea you were forming for him.

You fell for him fast. Hard. He was your first everything aside from kissing and as time went by, you agreed to move in with him. You never expected what was going to happen in the future. You never anticipated such excruciating pain from the betrayal, nor did you notice any signs leading up to it. He’s tried contacting you from other phone numbers, but after four months apart, he seemed to have given up. But, because the pain is still so raw, you can’t bear to face him. You will crumple like a piece of paper in his presence if you were to ever see him again. For now, you do all you can to just avoid the situation as much as possible. Besides, he has her now. Whoever she may be.

Alas, what does it matter? It is not like he is able to reach out to you anyways for he is blocked on every and any social media site you can think of, and thankfully your name was not on the lease nor was your name hooked to anything involving your ex, so it will be fine. Or so you tell yourself repeatedly until you lose track of the thought. But that uneasy feeling creeps back up and instead of reaching for the remote, you decide maybe a walk around the city will be better. Monnie isn’t due home until later and you are assuming Yoongi will be tagging along, so why not pass the time by exploring?

Loneliness seeps in the gallows of your heart while you rush through the app for a driver. There is not a specific destination you prefer over another, so you pick a store at random around fifteen minutes away. With the money your sister has, she doesn’t expect you to pay for anything, all she cares about is your happiness though you refuse to not work; for now, you have a part time retail job whilst figuring out a career path that will become your future in the long term.

One thing you will say, is you have not missed driving in the city, hence the reasoning of you summoning a chauffeur. Traffic isn’t your favorite as commonly pronounced by anybody, and with how overwhelming your brain can feel, you prefer to be able to drift into the zone out rather than pay attention. Gripping the strap of your bag, you eagerly watch the road while cars pass by letting the heat of the breeze sweep through your hair. When the signal of your phone alerts you that your driver is close by, you aim your focus in the direction of a slowing vehicle, stunned by the countenance of a sharp jawline and rainbow colors dyed into bleach blonde strands.

The beauty you are about to behold is way out of your comfort zone, nor have you felt this attracted to an individual since your heart was obliterated a year ago. “Hi-hi,” you stutter once you enter the passenger side, the driver nods once with a smirk in tow, his button up snug to his frame, an earring dangling from his right ear.

“I’m Jimin,” he introduces, “Location still the bookstore in the city?”

“Yes please,” you are shocked you sound audible, but you return a timid smile while shoving some loose hair behind your reddening ear. The clean scent of lemon breaches past your nostrils while you try to maintain your composure, “I’m y/n, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” soft music plays in the background, yet the only sense you tune into is the pounding in your temples. Pull yourself together, he is just a guy who drives a car, who will safely take you to the bookstore, no biggie, you will survive, there are more important things to- “So, as a fellow book lover, I must ask, what is your favorite story?”

Oof. Conversation to minimize the awkward way your shoulders tense at the mere thought of looking over at him, you rummage through the possible answers, struggling to gather your words in a timely manner. “Very hard question,” you gulp, “It’s like asking to choose your favorite song or movie. Too many stories to explore,”

“And never a time you will run out of adventure,”

Eyebrows shoot up in response, “Right,” you smile, “Sounds like you love a good adventure,”

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” a soft chuckle escapes past his plump lips while he keeps his gaze ahead on the traffic. “Have you resided here long?” Shifting nervously in your seat, you watch the buildings of the city closely in a way to avoid Jimin’s gaze without obviously melting.

“Only a year, made a split decision to move in with my sister. You?”

Jimin flits his stare for only a moment, “For a long while. My best friend and I are opening a bar not far from the bookstore, you should come sometime. Invite anyone and everyone you want.”

“I love me a good drink,” bravery enters your frame while you briefly scan the smooth skin of Jimin’s face. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Taehyung has a lot of success in his business, and this will be his fourth opening so celebration is a must. He has a lot of sponsors and connections, the main being Kim Seokjin,”

Gasping, you immediately turn to him, “You mean the actor Kim Seokjin? You’re kidding!”

Laughing, Jimin’s smile stretches to show pearly white teeth, “I will allow you to punch me if I am,”

Deep down you try to suppress the memory of your ex-boyfriend who had written a script in preparation to be read for a potential movie, one that would, in hopes, hire Kim Seokjin as the lead. Hoseok is talented in the writing department and had dreams of becoming a successful author, but you gladly dismiss the memory when Jimin pulls to park for you to exit.

“Here,” swiftly he pulls out a business card handing it to you with a friendly grin, “The opening is in a few weeks, will I see you there?”

“One hundred percent,” clutching the card in your hand, you wave before shutting the door, turning to face the bookstore to hide the fact you would prefer to stare at Jimin whose face will haunt you for the time being. For fucks sake, I need to get laid. As you desperately insert the card into your wallet, you pause. Nay! Male specimens suck, they all suck, my mother said the purpose of a male is to produce a child that I clearly am not ready to birth from the womb that is my pretty pink uterus. That bleeds. Monthly. Because I am not housing a fetus I- Ew. Maybe you’d rather be an aunt. Or have an ovariohysterectomy. Maybe your uterus would like to be taken out of the equation in general.

And now I need a coffee…. Shit.

Since when have you been this intimidated by a good-looking man? And when have you found any of your sporadic conscious entertaining? Therefore, you passionately believe in keeping your mouth shut when you’re on a tangent because humiliation is not in your vocabulary. Or… Is it? Also, you hate admitting how long it has been since you have even been kissed, much less caressed lovingly until you fell asleep. Is moving on from heartbreak too much to ask for? The heat of Hoseok’s kisses trailing your neck were enough to make you come undone, but his betrayal outweighs the good times- good times that evidently weren’t enough for him. Huffing in congruent with the squeezing of your shutting eyes, you step along the semi-crowded sidewalk where people mind their business enough to leave you alone. Your hand must have pressed against your stomach for a bit because you can still feel the presence of the touch before you subconsciously removed your palm.

The bookstore is a popular joint in your opinion. It stands four stories high with the fourth floor having a garden center where people can read and smell the perfumes of flowers in peace. Unfortunately, you are not in the best mood for getting lost in the lines of a tale considering you were too busy thinking about your erm, lady possessions, so you tread what you hope will be enough distraction until you feel satisfied enough to go home. It’s funny the curveballs life will throw at you especially when twists and turns decide to expose themselves in the unexpected ways everyone wishes will not happen unless it gleams nothing but happiness. Sadly, for some, the hits of negativity must spark lessons before one reaches the promise land, so when you make a turn into the alley way leading to a popular coffee shop, you do not anticipate the way your life is going to change. Nor do you fathom the string of events that are about to follow when you stumble upon a leathered frame, sucking in a puff of a cigarette while he flicks at his eyebrow shimmering with a piercing, leaning against the wall where he swallows roughly. Undercut freshly done, his nostrils release the smoke in what seems to be slow motion while you halt in place.

Holy shit.

Tattoos ornament the entirety of his knuckles and wrist alluding to the beginning of a sleeve that’s covered by the thick material of his jacket. For all you know, he may not be one to approach, yet the tug of your heart is so strong, you try with all your might to make the executive decision to return to the bookstore, but alas, it is too late. Brown irises glance to your frozen figure right when he takes another drag of the cigarette, lifting an eyebrow in evident interest while your jaw drops unintentionally. “I’m-I’m sorry,” you bow in tiny, “I didn’t see you there.” Cringing, you know damn well that you saw him, and he sees right through your little white lie.

“You’re fine,” he replies, studying your expression, tossing the cigarette to the ground to muffle it, “Not the best place for me to smoke, but it’s the least populated area,”

At a loss for words, you nod in response, the guy barely pushing off the wall to stand straighter, the smell of the cigarette lingering. “Well, I guess I’ll be going.” You say under your breath, walking with a mission toward the coffee shop to catch your breath. How in the world can somebody be that attractive? First Jimin, now this guy? Why hadn’t you moved to the city earlier? Uterus, it is not time to ovulate! It is not the time! The ding of the bell alerts your arrival to the staff, and you contemplate your order deciding to try a new flavor of coffee. Surprisingly, it is not nearly as busy as it typically is, so once you retrieve your order and pay, you search for a secluded table to descend into for some form of solitude. And, to recover from the interaction with the guy from the alley. You have never smoked a day in your life, but he made it seem so tempting, which in your case is nowhere near normal, so you shake the strange attraction from your mind as best as you can.

Sipping the hot liquid frequently, your sister has always teased that you delight in drinking coffee in the evenings, but it is your comfort go to especially when you need something to do, or to feel relaxed. The bell of the door echoes prompting the immediate noticing of whoever the customer is that entered. Swallowing abruptly, your heart leaps at the sight of the guy you literally saw fifteen minutes ago in the alley. A creeping blush spreads along your chest soon touching your cheeks to the point you wish you could hide. In a way, you attempt, sinking a smidge in your seat wondering if that will prevent him from noticing your presence.

Nice try.

Between the minimal number of customers and the efficiency of the employees, a tattooed hand linked to a coffee cup slides into the seat across from you, tilting his head curiously when you toss your sight to bask in the glory of his profound attraction. You are in so much trouble. “Hi, again,” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the quivering of your cold fingers, and to tame the flipping of your ovaries. “Did I scare you enough to make you confront me?”

Smirking a breathy laugh, he takes a swig of his coffee, “I’m not scared of anything.”

“If not fear, what brings you to my table?”

Wetting his bottom lip, you are proud of your feigned courage, but you genuinely are shocked by his sudden presence. Did you leave an inadvertent impression? Quirking an eyebrow, a small smile remains on his lips, “A confession.”

“If it’s sweet talk, I’ll pass.”

Leaning forward to perch his elbows on the table, he folds his hands showing the tattoos you inwardly reveled in earlier, his head poises to the side while he presses his knuckles to his chin casually. “Bold of you to assume I was here to compliment you.”

“Ouch.” You deadpan. “But then again, my mother’s compliments are all that matter to me. Anything you say is irrelevant.”

“Oh,” gradually laying his intertwined fingers onto the table, he challenges with a stare that can make any human being melt into the wooden floor. Fuck. “Then I guess telling you that your shirt is inside out isn’t going to change anything.”

Gasping, your palms fly to your chest where you instantaneously look to see the lines of your t-shirt that clearly expose the fact that you indeed left the house with your shirt on wrong. It is not as embarrassing as one may think, but you were unaware of the food stain dazzling along the side of your boob. Which in this case, makes you blush harder knowing that his eyes may be lingering in an area where no man is welcome currently. But why do you lowkey indulge in the idea of him taking a moment to sweep you up and down? Get a fucking grip, y/n.

“Well,” you sporadically move to position yourself in the seat where the point out will no longer be as obvious, “I appreciate how observant you are, but at least it’s not the worst thing to discover. In public.”

Chuckling under his breath, he shrugs, “I agree. Just figured I’d inform you, otherwise, my intentions are pure.”

Scoffing, you cross your arms again, remaining comfortable in your chair, “That’s not suspicious at all.”

“If I wanted anything, I would have asked already.” He murmurs, “And I always get what I want.”

“Fearless and greedy,” you are vastly grateful that the uterus doesn’t make noises when it’s craving to house an infant, especially with a man as ballsy and gorgeous as the one before you. And why the hell are you even thinking of children at a time like this? Any other male specimen would have made this conversation creepy, but this guy is so alluring that it doesn’t seem to bother you in the least. “What’s your name, Cigs?”

He chokes mid-sip, “That’s a new one.”

“What’s the norm?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Not if it’s sexual.”

“Oooo, then I’ll never tell.”

“Pure, my ass.”

“I never said I was pure, milady, I said my intentions with you were pure.”

Eyeing him questionably, you stifle a jeer, “Not sure if that’s an insult, but I’ll take it.”

Smiling enough to where a glimpse of his teeth is seen, he reaches a hand forward, “I’m Jeongguk.”

“I’m y/n.” Kindly, you take his hand returning the greeting with a grin.

“And I find you extremely striking. I mean that with all sincerity.” Gently, he presses a warm kiss to the back of your knuckles before releasing your clammy hand. “Now go fix your shirt before my OCD destroys me.”

Groaning, your mind wants to focus on the sensation from his lips on your skin, but instead, in mild humiliation, you shake your head kiddingly while you mosey to the restroom. Remembering to bring your purse, you hadn’t realized you left your phone behind on the table next to your drink. Returning, you’re shocked to see that he’s left; your phone and coffee appear untouched, yet you feel the sting of disappointment for you enjoyed the bickering even though some may find it strange. It has been a while since you have been in proximity with a man of such nature, especially one whose features leave an imprint on every crevice of your brain.

The ride home holds nothing but thoughts of the lad who mysteriously approached you at your favorite coffee spot, mostly questions of wonderment of who he is. Jeongguk, sure, but what is his story? Shoving the thought past your mind, you enter your room once you arrive home and feed your cat, slipping into your pajamas and collapsing onto your bed releasing a long sigh. Slamming your palms to your face, the keen chirp of Kenai sounds as he pounces onto the bed, rubbing his head against your cheek until you split your fingers to peer at your cat lovingly. “You have already eaten, you brute. Let me simmer in sadness please.”

Eventually you give in, petting him before you find your eyelids heavily craving slumber. It is the next day when you awaken to sunshine pouring through the blinds casting dancing shadows upon your bedspread. Kenai’s fur tickles your cheek where he has cuddled cozily to you, which is the usual with your cat, and gazing fondly at your furry friend, you blindly pat your desk to grasp your phone to sneak a Snapchat. “Don’t you move, KiKi.” Angling the phone, you take a photo, posting to your story to show off how precious your animal is. You were so lucky when you found your cat. After the devastating blow to the chest a year prior, the first thing you did was visit a shelter not far from Monnie’s house in search of the first animal to win your heart.

In all honesty, they all did, but one look at the small fluff puff, pressing his paws against the glass, meowing for you to notice him was all it took. He purred the moment your hands wrapped around his small body, his cold nose sniffing along your face that was stained with tears. He was the little superhero besides your sister that you needed to find some form of healing. Kenai hasn’t left your side, and he refuses to. You never knew a cat could love you so much, even on the nights you wake up with him sprawled across your trachea. His love may be smothering, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kissing the side of his head, his sleepy eyes remain out the window where birds zip past to distract him. Throwing the covers off you, the number one thing you do is brush your teeth, changing into your work clothes, and tying your hair up out of your vision. Kenai eventually follows you with all the hopes of getting his breakfast which you prepare, and before shuffling into your tennis shoes, you check your phone where your eyes enlarge to the rising beat of your heart.

Jeongguk is typing….

“What the hell?” You mouth. The guy from yesterday added you on Snapchat? How? The only thing you can think is your phone happened to be unlocked unless he was able to open the picture app to scan his Snapchat code. Either way, you are not wanting to admit how pleasantly surprised you are, and when the familiar tone of the Snapchat alerts his official message, you hold yourself back from replying to him too quickly.

It's an exuberantly strange feeling, how giddy one can become all because of a mere message of someone where their interest lies. And the nervous tingles at the bottom of your stomach ignite as you ponder every and any scenario involving the mysterious lad. You have yet to reply, nor do you have any clue what to expect, but you deeply hold nothing but genuine curiosity of how this may play out. Will he be interested in you? Are you ready for someone to be interested in you? That may be the more accurate question. Hoseok hurt you beyond words, but will Jeongguk do the same if you do end up finding him enchanting? What if he doesn’t think you are enough? With all the women in the world, it seems that you can’t hold a guy down enough to seem worth it. Stop it. Wincing, you grit your teeth knowing the negativity needs to end now. Of course, you are enough. You have always been enough, and nobody should make you doubt otherwise. “Anyone who doesn’t see the good in you is at a loss. You are literally the epitome of kindness,” Monnie’s words repeat in your head, uplifting you enough to focus your mind on other matters. Like, preparing your brain cells for the workday ahead.

Finicking with your uniformed red vest, you greet a fellow coworker with a smile, “Good morning, LenLen! Is it five o’clock yet?”

Giggling, LenLen’s face lights up at your question as she finishes folding a pair of jeans to set upon a display. “It is somewhere.”

“Good point,” walking the isles of the store to tidy up the shelves, you can’t help but wonder if it has been long enough since Jeongguk messaged you. Giving it another ten minutes to ensure the coast is clear of customers, you sneak into the breakroom, unlocking your phone to see what he said. You are appalled at yourself for being so consumed in the fact that a guy you just met has taken time out of his day to reach out to you and you wish you could maintain your cool.

‘Dude, your cat looks just like my hellion, Flounder.’

Smiling at what you have read, you click to save the message, so you don’t forget what is being talked about once you exit the snapchat, and you are nearly losing your mind when Jeongguk’s Bitmoji appears a few seconds after you start typing. Uncertain of what else to say, you respond with, ‘Prove it.’ GAH! You grimace, that’s what you have to say? Prove it? Beating yourself up, you forget to breathe the moment the red icon shows that Jeongguk has sent a picture of what you are assuming is his cat. Opening it with the click of your thumb, you are amazed how identical Flounder and Kenai are even considering they could be potential siblings, what a small world right? ‘First off, LOVE the name’, you reply, also realizing you are blushing because also within the picture, a side profile of Jeongguk shows that he is smiling.

Knowing you will have to return to the floor soon, you decide to let Jeongguk send at least one more message before you have to be a responsible adult. ‘Right? It was either Sushi, Tuna, or Sardine, but I thought Flounder would be more fitting and unique. Tetra is my other cat and she’s the worst about stealing my food.’

‘Sounds like Kenai can finally make some friends! And attempt to steal a morsel alongside.’

Typing out the message, you hesitate to send, but with the shared love of felines you honestly feel as though Jeongguk will not overanalyze your reply. Anxious for lunch break, you handle the hours with ease, conversing with LenLen from time to time to figure out who has done what on the chores list. LenLen speaks of a guy that she met recently, with a square jawline and hair as curly as a bowl of ramen noodles, yet his bright smile is what drew her to him. You talk of how happy you are for her and hope for the best, chickening out to tell her about Jeongguk, especially with it being, in your opinion, extremely too soon to mention.

Retrieving your food, you hide away in the breakroom where your eyes immediately glue to your cellular device anticipating whatever Jeongguk has said. ‘Hell yeah, my babies would love that, they do very well with other animals, surprisingly. Hey, sorry I left so soon yesterday, something came up.’

‘It takes a bit for Kenai to warm up, but he will adapt just fine. All he cares about is his stomach being full. No need to apologize, I totally get it.’ Eyebrows furrowed; you can’t help the wonder of what made him leave so soon. Also, you are not one to press further, if he wants to explain himself then he will. Otherwise, you hope that everything is okay with him.

It has only been a few days when you enter the coffee shop again, making it obvious that it indeed is your favorite, and you are shocked the employees don’t know you by name yet. Or so you assume. It is when you see Jeongguk taking a sip of his drink searching for an empty table, your heart leaps as if on cue. You are starting to assume that maybe he is a recent frequenter of this same coffee shop too. Why else have you seen him twice in the span of a few days? You’ve never noticed him here before this week, so now you wonder if he recently moved to the city. His leather jacket hugs his frame as his hair is styled to his liking. You hardly notice the way your mouth waters instinctively and you snap back into focus when you are next in line.

Pretending you didn’t notice Jeongguk, you decide to find a seat a short distance away just in case by some chance he acknowledges you. With coffee in hand, you pick a spot and not even sixty seconds later, you hear the familiar click notification of someone typing on Snapchat. Jittery, which you wish wasn’t so obvious, you carefully reach for your phone seeing: Jeongguk is typing… lighting the screen. Without thinking, you immediately lift your gaze to see him staring at you, a mischievous smirk gracing his pink lips.

Just for his delight, you play along spinning some storybook thought that you two are forbidden lovers hiding from the community by texting instead of speaking to one another in person. Get a grip, y/n, you scold yourself mentally. Opening the message, it reads: may I join you in coffee matrimony?

Shaking your head along with a breathy laugh to his cheesy statement, you respond with a pun, only if you keep me brewing, Tatts!

The creak of his chair echoes as he slides it back. Shyly, you hold his stare, watching him and his thick boots walk to settle into the chair across from you. “Clever,” he muses, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Strands of his hair fall at the outer corners of his eyes, and you breathe in the faint scent of his cologne. This time, you do not get a whiff of any cigarettes, so you question if he’s even had one today. “If you’re not careful,” he deliberates, “I might have to show you what it’s like to get creamed.”

“Hm.” Arching an eyebrow, you catch on to his game, and if he wasn’t so damn alluring, you wouldn’t even give this conversation another thought with anybody else, “You better hope it tastes as sweet as sugar.” He doesn’t expect you to say that. He may have had women fall hopelessly at his feet, and as much as you feel you might be the next one, you definitely aren’t going to show it. Not right now.

“I hear that the ladies like it steamy.”

“Or iced,” you shrug nonchalantly. Ice play has always been a curiosity of yours, but he doesn’t have to know that. When he doesn’t seem to come up with another pun, you chew the corner of your lip before you lean onto the table yourself, inching as close as you can that the table between you two will allow. “Tell me, Boots, how is it… that a guy with this tough exterior can be so delicately precious about his cats?”

He gestures with his hands. “What can I say? I have to set a good example.”

You harrumph humorously. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He feigns surprise. “You think I am incapable of being a good role model to my children?”

“Oh please. All you have to do is keep their food bowls filled to the brim and you’ve already won dad of the year.”

Jeongguk winks, bringing his hands together to interlace his fingers reminding you of the tattoos you wish you can visualize more. “Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he smirks.

You have a hard time breaking his gaze, but you clear your throat when it lingers a bit too long. “Anyways,” you attempt to change the subject, “I hope all is well.” You’re really hinting about why he left so suddenly the last time but knowing men do not always pick up on hints, you know you will accept whether he gets what you mean or not.

“Seeing that you put your clothes on right today, my OCD hasn’t been triggered.”

“Happy to see I’ve made a difference in your life.” You playfully sneer.

“It’s the little things that count.”

You feel your uterus squeeze. How the fuck is he so damn attractive for? “I’ll keep that in mind every time I dress.” You say it too quickly without thinking, your cheeks glimmering blood red. He quirks an eyebrow tauntingly.

“I can always help.”

“Nice try, Cigs.”

Except… You want him to try. That itching desire travels through your chest, and you wonder maybe… just maybe, you can get his help. Not necessarily with getting dressed because you swear you are competent to do so, but… maybe he can cure the curse of loneliness, even if it’s just for the moment. You want to deny that you hope it will be much more than just this moment. You can’t explain any of this. Are you trying to impress him?

Uncrossing your ankles underneath the table, you do slide your feet forward taking the tip of your boot to tickle up his leg and you can’t help the smirk that graces your lips when he sucks in a hiss. There’s a tad bit of space on the chair where you place your boot, gracefully taking your other foot to nestle on the other side of his hips. You don’t know what is taking over you, but it’s divine, and now you can’t stop yourself especially with his eyes tempting for you to continue. “I’m gonna need help with more than-”

“How’s it going?”

You jolt, boots slamming to the ground when your wide eyes shoot to see a smiling employee who clearly is going from table to table to check on customers. Stammering, you lick your lips while Jeongguk tries not to laugh in response to your sudden shock. “Goo-good!” You plaster a wide smile while the employee bows swiftly to then waltz to the next table as if they didn’t intrude on your façade to win over this incredibly attractive man across from you. Fuck, you grimace. How embarrassing.

When coffees are finished and downed in clumsy silence, you reach for a stick of gum, offering Jeongguk a piece so you don’t feel so insecure about the coffee breath. He offers to walk you home, but you tell him the bookstore is where you plan to be next. You’re not ready to go home because home is where you will replay the humiliation of what just happened repeatedly. You need a distraction.

Side by side, the pair of you set off down the alley, your nerves still shooting through your limbs while anxiety of what to talk about tackles your brain cells. You’re really trying to forget already, but it’s too fresh to just repress. Maybe there is a sliver of comfort with the silence, but of course, you overthink that as well because when do you not overthink?

You know what? You saw the pleasure in his eyes, there wasn’t a smidge of doubt in his expression when his body responded to you in the coffee shop. Noting that the alley is empty, you take the opportunity. If he wasn’t the slightest bit into you, he wouldn’t be adamant on making sure you arrive to your next location safely. But you need to think fast before you exit the alley. “Cigs!” You blurt. He stops the second you do. The gravel beneath his boots being the last sound you hear before adrenaline takes over.

Your hands grip the front of his leather jacket and when he clues in, as if rehearsed, his large hands grasp your hips, walking you backwards until your back gently bumps against the brick building. His gaze is intense as if preparing you what you are asking for while your mouth parts in yearning for whatever he is about to do. He over towers you, and your eyes never move even when his palms slide to your waist, his shaky exhales leaving his nostrils. His lips are pressed together. When you think he’s about to kiss you, he slams his eyes shut, shifting nothing but his forehead to lean to yours as your eyes flutter closed. Waiting.

Tingles resonate across your skin and the longing is immensely strong, you don’t want to hold back. You hadn’t realized that the back of your hands are against the brick wall as if you have surrendered to him. In a way, you have. The seconds feel like minutes, and when you think he will finally connect with your body, he pulls away. His hands ghost your waist.

For some reason, you keep your eyes closed. His lips then brush warmly to your forehead and with that, you hear the crunch of his footsteps disappearing as he did the first time you met. Your eyes peel open, and it’s like Jeongguk is a figment of your imagination because now:

he’s gone.

-

You never expected to hear from him again, but as days pass, it’s crazy how one person can enrapture the entirety of your thoughts even with the distractions from work because Jeongguk has mastered it for you. And that is how it has been the rest of the week, giddily waiting on his every text and enjoying every bit of the conversations shared between you two as if the sexual tension in the alley never happened. Eagerly, you toss and turn at night due to the cycle of daydreams rehearsing in your mind rent free, but you can’t help yourself, you love to imagine the possibilities of a real adventure with someone you want to spend time with again. If it ever happens.

“You’re glowing.” Monnie’s eyes squint as you grin away to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator for an electrolyte drink.

“I… cleansed my face?”

“No, it’s not that.”

Teasingly scoffing, you take a swig of your drink, “I... am… expecting?”

“Nice try,”

You nearly choke on the second sip, “C’mon, it’s not that impossible. You don’t know my schedule.”

“I know it enough to know that you haven’t missed a birth control shot since you became physically intimate, and that was practically decades ago.”

“You can just say sex you know,” you retaliate, “And for your information, I had sex last year.”

“Yeah, practically decades ago.”

“Fine. Ten or so excruciatingly long years ago, I had sex.”

“So, in conclusion, you are not with child.”

“Yet,” you ploy, letting Monnie glare at you as she slowly steps out of the kitchen. Who are you kidding? You don’t have time for kids, and you know it. Despite what your uterus wants, you do have to find a stable time to want to produce so for now, you shall wait until the time is right. Hence, why you remain on birth control until you know for sure. Otherwise, life goes on as always. Besides… you do recall the last time you had sex. And… it wasn’t with Hoseok. A secret you will take to your grave if you have to. A secret that happened one drunken night weeks after you and Hoseok broke up. And, you never went back hence why it has been a year since you’ve had sex.

You had guilt as if you cheated on Hoseok even though you did not in fact. Either way, you throw the memory into the depths of your mind and try to force yourself to forget how plush the man’s lips felt along your skin. Instead, you replace it with the brief kiss Jeongguk left on your forehead which feels so out of reach.

During the time of messaging back and forth, one evening, Jeongguk offers to call you due to an atrocious event happening at your workplace that you and LenLen got involuntarily involved in. A customer apparently read a sales sign wrong and didn’t realize it until checkout and no matter how much you and your coworker tried explaining things, the customer was not having it which leaves you to call a manager. Overall, it was a situation that unfolded that you honestly wished didn’t hover in your brain cells, but when Jeongguk calls so you can rant, it means the world.

“You are quite attractive and that’s one hundred percent a compliment, and I’m not one to just throw those around to male specimens.” You confess after long conversation. It’s like you moved on from the awkward interactions. Plus, you convince yourself that you came on too strong the last time you saw him.

He snickers on the other line and vividly you imagine his smile, tickling your tummy like the beating wings of multiple butterflies. “Why, thank you. You definitely have my attention, too, ya know.”

“Well…’ You press the knuckle of your thumb to your bottom lip for a second, “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“And you also deserve to be respected. I’m sorry the customer gave you and your friend such a hard time. If retail is no longer what you want to do, my stepbrother owns a well-known bookstore. I remember you mentioning your love for books at one point and I’m sure he will offer good pay.”

“You would do that for lil’ ole’ me?”

Chuckling lightly, “Anybody with a smart mouth like yours needs a break too.”

“Oh shucks,” though he can’t see it, your cheeks flush a hot shade of red. “Consider me interested! I may give the store some more time since I don’t want to leave LenLen stranded so abruptly, otherwise, I might put in an application just cause.”

“I’ll keep my stepbrother posted.”

You thank him before you decide to head to bed, dazed on cloud nine as you hang up the phone.  

-

It doesn’t matter how busy you are, the second you see the:  Jeongguk is typing…. Notification it’s:

Halt. Stop everything and scramble to unlock the phone screen. Breathe. He is just a guy. He is just a dude with tattoos. Okay, must read message in sixty seconds to not seem desperate. Force yourself to Google search ‘kittens’ to distract your frantic desire to reply immediately to his every text. Does it work? Partially.

So…. I was wondering, would you happen to be off in the next few days? It’s been a minute.

Double take. Eyes enlarged. No way. Inhale. Release. Slowly but clearly, you reread the Snapchat message as if your life depends on it. How long has it been since you two have been messaging back and forth? Maybe a few weeks? But how should you respond? Maybe not as excited so you don’t appear deprived? Or seem super excited so that he knows you are most definitely wanting to meet up? You were super proud of yourself with how contained you stayed when he called you however long ago. Nay, appear neutral. Come across dainty with a sprinkle of bad ass, that’ll get him…. Right? Okay, maybe not.

Funny you ask because I happen to be off today. Send. You squeal internally. You genuinely can’t help how stoked you are in seeing him; the next question is, what is his idea of fun aside from the coffee shop? You are honestly up for anything even if it’s admiring the night sky on a roof with glasses of wine. Or, admiring his tattoos and him explaining the meanings of each one. You have always wanted to get a tattoo yourself but have yet to decide not only what to get but when the right time will be. As with anything, you want the first time to be special. That’s what she said, as you roll your eyes at yourself. Your uterus sure likes to talk, and you really hope you can keep yourself tame once you see him again because a year of no intimacy is already hard enough; and you atrociously hate admitting that you sometimes become lonely for a partner even though healing this past year has been a roller coaster. Even trying to avoid the temptation to reach out… to the last man you entangled with.

Shuddering with guilt, you stroll to the kitchen upon waiting for Jeongguk’s response, and you notice beneath a magnet the card the driver, Jimin, had given you forever ago. The day you met Jeongguk. Carefully shifting it out from under the magnet, an idea does form. Maybe Jeongguk would like to meet you there at the opening. Does he seem like a ‘bar’ type kinda guy? Oh. You wince. What does that even mean? Who doesn’t like a bar setting with a few beers? Plus, it’s been a while since you’ve been to one so why not?

Well today is our lucky day for I happen to have the next 12 hours to find something fun to do. Whaddya say about joining me?

Bring it on, Cigs. You respond and despite the nervous jitters, you type more after the initial message you sent. I actually promised to go to an opening of a new bar that happens to be tonight. If I send the address, would you like to meet me there?

When he asks for the time and where, you send the information. You will get to see him tonight. Now all you can do is panic about what to wear and if you even have anything to wear for the occasion.

Fantastic.

-

Quivering fingers amidst clammy palms slide across the tops of your thighs while you steadily breathe. You, being the early bird that you are, arrive at the bar a few minutes earlier than what you mentioned to Jeongguk. The last you heard from him was when you both finalized the plan. To calm the nerves, you definitely need a drink. A strong one. Your maroon dress clings to your frame the way you like, and you made sure your make up was exactly how you like it to be.. You haven’t felt this confident since you left your ex. And you hope this proves that you never need a man to help you dress.

You ordered a cab to get there so you didn’t have to worry about driving, and you figure if you and Jeongguk still hit it off in person as you do through messaging, then maybe he can make sure you get home safely. So, you hope. Maybe even make up for lost time since the alley.

Sending a quick message to let Jeongguk know you have arrived; your eyes observe your surroundings, and you don’t see him anywhere just yet. Maybe he is stuck in traffic? You wonder. If he is driving, obviously he shouldn’t message you, so you show your ID to the bouncer after standing in line for a few minutes letting the uneasiness settle.

Bodies are scattered among the floor as music blares throughout the building. Laughter and the smell of alcohol is the first thing that comes to your nostrils while your eyes trail for some familiar faces if any happen to be here. Colorful flashing lights wave over the tables, walls, and chairs while people dance continuously, and you really hope despite the overall dim lighting you recognize Jeongguk the second he walks in. Regardless, you search for Jimin since he is the one who invited you, but you haven’t seen him thus far.

Swallowing down the nerves, you squeeze through the crowd until you reach the bar, asking for something strong for you to sip on until Jeongguk arrives. It’s been about ten minutes once your drink is in your hand, and when you check your phone, Jeongguk still hasn’t read the message. You contemplate phoning him, but know it’s too loud to try, so you assure yourself he will be here. You have full confidence that he will call you if he is running late. Which… technically at this point he should have called you by now.

To divert yourself from the sinking feeling, you watch the bustles of people having the time of their lives when a particular human being causes your shoulders to stiffen and your mouth to run dry. Flashbacks of that night flicker in your mind as a weary sense of dread subdues you. The secret you have kept concealed from the world. Stay calm, y/n. Remain. Calm. You hardly remember how you got there, but you noticed how handsome he was, how his hair was loosening from the gel, and his smile put you at ease as you two laughed together. He was drunk, too, but both of you were still aware enough to know what was happening. What was stirring between you two. All you held onto was how he was the first to make you laugh in weeks during that time.

You knew you shouldn’t have been there, but you didn’t care, and you were desperate to feel something. Freshly single and overruled by anger, you let it win. When you kissed him for the first time, he froze, and you pulled away. But he held your eyes, flitting between them without a single word. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed you back, and you remember the way his palm felt on your cheek. The way the kisses grew aggressive and emotional as if he felt the guilt from keeping the secret buried from you. Knowing his best friend was in the wrong for what he did to you, but he knew it wasn’t his place to tell you the truth. But boy, had you made it your place to entangle with this guy who was giving into what his emotions were displaying. He wanted you to feel special. It was like his kisses brought an apology you wished your ex would have given you.

So, in a strange yet erotic way, you let it all go with him. Drunken, slovenly kisses until the pair of you started to sober up enough to experiment further. You can’t remember much of the foreplay, but you do, however, remember when he pressed himself into you, riding smoothly as he kissed every inch of your face and your neck. His hands didn’t exactly know where to touch, but his lips did, and that was enough. He moved in you so gently.

When you had awaken the next morning, you laid flat on your back while tears streamed from the corners of your eyes. You don’t know how long you remained there. You don’t know how long you silently cried. But you left before he woke up. You left before you both had to take in account of what you two had done. What you two had shared.

Now here he is in the present.

Kim Namjoon, Hoseok’s best friend, is here, and he spots you almost as immediately as you spot him. Gulping, you do not know what else to do other than spin around immediately and face the bar contemplating to chug every ounce of the alcohol remaining in your glass. Setting your drink down cautiously to not spill the contents, a rear of nausea raises its ugly head. What is Namjoon doing here!? The last time you saw him was the night you would do anything to forget.

Heart hammering, you squeeze your eyes closed. Namjoon may have given you a good night to hold on to for a while a year ago, but it wasn’t anything more than that. It couldn’t be. You were full of anger and a brief desire of revenge, and you were drunk, and you were-

Large hands lean upon the counter of the bar on either side of you as you suck in a breath. You recognize those hands. Those hands are the ones that slid along your body while you pleaded for more. And the countenance of his frame over towers you as you feel the tip of his lips centimeters from your ear kindling goosebumps along your arms. But these hands aren’t the hands you’ve been waiting for. Not one tattoo shows on these hands.

“Long time, no see.” Namjoon says into your ear. Mustering enough courage after steadying yourself, you turn to face him for the first time in a year. His eyes are as filled with longing as they were the night you last saw him. The kind of longing that wonders of how you feel about what occurred. If you still ponder it.

“What are you doing here!?” You say amongst your trembling body. You try to stay firm though you know deep down none of this was Namjoon’s fault. Trying to set your jaw, you take in the way his shirt tugs at his muscles, and the way his hair is gelled to perfection. You have forgotten how beautiful this man is, but Jeongguk. Where the literal fuck is Jeongguk? He is who you want deep down. So where is he? “Never mind that,” you shake your head, realizing he has every right to be here as you do. “What do you want?”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker along your face momentarily before he speaks. The way his dominant gaze holds you in place could drive any woman mad. “To make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh bullshit.” You say through gritted teeth because not only is Namjoon’s proximity bringing unwanted emotions, but it is also bringing the memories of Hoseok. Memories you really have tried not to relive.

Namjoon’s eyes squeeze shut. “y/n, I’m being serious. You fell off the face of the earth since…”

“Since what? Since Hoseok? Or you?” His mouth shuts automatically. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. What happened that night… It was my fault. I know that, but it shouldn’t have happened.” The anger for even saying Hoseok’s name after so long of refusing to is a strange feeling. Namjoon swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and you visibly see the guilt in his eyes because he agrees. Hoseok has been his best friend since they were kids. “How long had you known by the way? About the other girl? Who is she?” He releases a sigh, shaking his head while he tilts his gaze downward in shame. He knows. Of course, he does. He’s refusing to answer the question, but you ask another one anyway. You know it’s too loud to whisper, and from your peripheral, you may have gained a few stares, but you raise your voice just enough for Namjoon to hear. “Does… he know?”

“That we fucked?” Namjoon answers quickly, his eyes locking with yours. “Of course not.” He’s not going to risk losing his friendship is what you are reading between the lines.

“Good.” You refuse to move your gaze. “Keep it that way. Please.” He’s still so close. And you breathe in his scent. Your hand brushes his chest, while your forehead touches to his chin. Both of you share a silent understanding. A pact.

Namjoon is about to say more but you politely shove his arm out of your way ignoring his reach to stop you. You’re scared that you will give in to the thought of him from all these emotions. Whatever he has to say, he can keep it to himself. For now. You need to catch your breath.

Checking your phone, Jeongguk still hasn’t read your message and at this point, you have no idea of where he is or why he even bothered agreeing to show up if he truly had no intentions of seeing you again. Maybe you should have known better. He has the bad boy persona just from his stature, but maybe for once you wanted to believe you could get excited about someone again. Maybe he was the distraction you hoped for and needed, and now that your nerves are shot, and your heart is aching from all the emotions, you’ll do anything at this point to rid of it all.

Regretfully forgetting your drink at the bar and realizing after you move to another section of the place, you happen to see Jimin whose face lights up with recognition. Air escapes your lungs yet again because you forgot how attractive he is too. You notice he has been conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin which makes you want to faint since he is so famous and you have yet to meet a famous person, but for right now, despite the tears wanting to spill down your cheeks from the interaction with Namjoon and the acceptance that Jeongguk will not be showing up after all, you are so thankful that Jimin is making his way towards you. Until your emotions settle, you cannot risk humiliating yourself in front of a celebrity of Seokjin’s status. It would be too much.

Your jaw almost drops though when you catch a sudden glimpse of your coworker LenLen who is snug against a man with fluffy hair a short distance away, and you realize that this must be the man she’s been talking to you about! You tell yourself that you will make sure to say hey to her if you get the chance. It’s about time other conversation is shared that is not related exclusively to work.

“Hey there!” Jimin smiles fully, bringing your muddled mind back to attention. He leans in for a quick hug before pulling away. “You look amazing!”

Blushing, you feel where his fingers stop at your elbows. He has such a kind aura about him that makes you feel safe, so you hope he invites you to hang out, especially since LenLen happens to be in the group Jimin has been socializing with from your quick assumptions. “You look good, too!” You feel like you’re shouting, but you don’t care. You are somewhat relieved to finally have somebody to hang out with no matter how quick it lasts. “How is the opening going? Everything go according to plan?”

“Hell, yeah it has!” Jimin beams. “Taehyung is beyond happy with the results. The line outside is insanity!”

“So happy for you both!” You say, and before you think you may have some form of solace, you wonder where Namjoon is or if he miraculously left, but instead of him, you notice someone else. And you beg the heavens on why you can’t seem to catch a break.

Heart shattering to the floor, your eyes widen, and if Jimin is chatting, you definitely can’t hear him over the loud pounding of your heart in your temples. Is this the real reason Namjoon approached you? That he tried to stop you? To warn you?  

If the forbidden person you are frozen by sees you, you don’t care, you need a reason for his heart to break. Something worse than him finding out that you slept with his best friend if he ever does. Hoseok pauses the moment he sees you standing there; a strange look of confusion dawns him instantly as his eyes look from you to Jimin and back. You can’t help the way your gaze automatically drifts to see if you find her, too. The girl he chose over you, but you do not see a female near him. Not yet. You tell yourself that you never want to know who she is, but there is always that sick vengeance of discovering.

Jimin’s eyebrow arches as he follows your gaze. Whether he knows Hoseok or not, that part is the least of your concerns. Jeongguk stood you up, Namjoon confronted you, and your ex-boyfriend who you loved for three years that relentlessly ripped your heart out of your chest- is here and it is too overwhelming to describe right now the full-blown panic shredding every fiber of your being; the utter disbelief how this shit show of a night has unfolded. You wish you were drunk enough to ignore this inexplainable pain. You wish you had a place to escape to.

But… Maybe Jimin is it. If Jeongguk didn’t want to be, then maybe Jimin will.

Despite his furrowed eyebrows, when Jimin turns just enough to look at you, it’s all it takes. Briskly, you cup his face, pressing a kiss to his cloud-like lips while he stumbles in surprise. Relief floods your quivering frame when he doesn’t even remotely hesitate to kiss you back. His lips are enticingly soft and pure, and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss letting the tip of his tongue brush yours ever so slightly. He tastes of peppermint and booze, and he tastes so good, you get tipsy just off his lips. You move your hands to lock behind his neck while his fingers find a hold on your waist. “Well damn,” he says breathless against your lips while peppering short kisses in between his words. “If I would have known, I would have done this much sooner.”

Gripping loose strands on the back of his head, you lift onto the tips of your toes. “You won’t regret it,” you purr into Jimin’s ear, gaze tauntingly floating to stare right into Hoseok’s, whose eyes widen in enormous shock, before Jimin pins you to his frame as if your clothes are a barrier he wishes didn’t exist. Everywhere is too crowded to really notice the way you two lock lips for majority of the evening. And you are well aware that you two are not the only ones making out.

You know Hoseok is watching every second, probably fuming, probably balling his fists, probably justifying every reason he has to interrupt. You hope he is watching every grip of Jimin’s fingers on your ass, the way his lips suck your neck, or the way he twirls your body under the spotlight if a song he likes comes on. You know the jealousy that’s bubbling beneath Hoseok’s chest is about to erupt. But he also knows better than to intervene between the woman he betrayed and who he is assuming to be her new boyfriend. Because it’s too late. You wouldn’t take him back even if he begged. Because whoever she is out there, she knows what she did to you, too. How she couldn’t even show her face when Hoseok burst onto the porch the day you found out. How her breasts were rounded beneath Hoseok’s shirt. The shirt you painfully remembered was missing when you finally had a moment where your emotions didn’t get the best of you. She had that shirt the entire time.

You hadn’t planned to invite Jimin over. The night drives on and you see that Jeongguk at this point, indeed, read your message, but didn’t bother to respond. Didn’t bother to even make an excuse. To explain why he left you to unintentionally fend for yourself. He could have been here. He could have saved you from tonight if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

You hop into Jimin’s car willingly and he drives you home, kissing you and kissing you while your clothes hit the bedroom floor. Jimin slides on a condom before he pushes into you from behind when your body pins to the wall, him pounding as if to the beat of a song while his teeth dig into your shoulder, into your neck. “Deeper!” You squeal. “Keep going, ah-!”

You do not care about the sounds that have echoed from either of your mouths or the number of positions you two have attempted. You lost count after four. You don’t care that you just met him a few weeks ago. You don’t care how you are going to feel in the morning. Yes, you are aware that you are sober this time. But you want Jimin to keep moving inside you until you forget about your one-night stand with your ex’s best friend. Till you forget about Hoseok’s betrayal that haunts your mind and shreds your heart. Till you forget about the girl who took part in ruining your life. Till you forget about the tattooed man who you hoped would rescue you.

Cigs.

Fuck you, Cigs.

-

The morning comes quickly coupled with a pounding headache while you groggily stretch your arms and legs amidst the tangled bed sheets. You accidentally brush warm skin causing you to jolt upright. Wincing, the pounding in your head worsens, yet you turn just enough to assess that you one hundred percent just hooked up with the hot driver who co-owns a bar and is best friends with a celebrity.

Fuck.

Your palms slap to your face. You weren’t even intoxicated, so how could you let this happen? You may not have been drunk off your ass, but you sure as hell were emotional and that can be equally as dangerous as taking shots of the strongest alcoholic beverage out there. “Shit,” you murmur to yourself, watching the slow fall and rise of Jimin’s breathing. Kenai chirps outside your bedroom door and you realize it is probably past his breakfast time. Slipping out of bed as quietly as you can, you freshen up and brush your teeth. Twice. Just in case if you ultimately decide to continue this rendezvous before you kick Jimin out.

Shuddering, you wonder how loud you might have been last night. And by that you mean, was your sister home? And did she hear the commotion you let out the second you got Jimin alone? If she was home maybe, you could handle that truth. What also concerns you is if Yoongi was home too. You couldn’t bear facing the two of them if they were home while you tackled Jimin like a football player between the sheets.

Oh, when will all this humiliation end!? You want to scream outwardly. It’s been never ending. And, when you start to dress into a nightgown, you finger at the red mark on your shoulder. A reminder of where Jimin had been. And you hate that you like it.

Leaving the bathroom trying to rid the thought, you see Jimin is fully awake and putting on his shirt, his pants already hugging his toned legs. His hair is unkempt from the night before, and it looks cuter that way with his array of colors dyed with the blonde. “Hey there,” he smiles brightly when he sees you. You notice him pop a piece of gum in his mouth which you figure is because he never planned to bring a toothbrush… Because he hadn’t planned to sleep with anybody until you ferociously pounced.

“Hey,” You reply softly, crossing your arms to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. Kenai is still meowing outside the bedroom, frequently pawing at the door.

“Somebody’s pissed.” Jimin chuckles, pointing at the door.

“He’s starving 24/7 and likes to remind me just as often.” You kid, eventually stepping to sit on the bed. You aren’t sure how to feel about last night. But at the same time, should you regret it? The way Jimin’s eyes swept your body, to be honest, you kind of don’t regret it. “How did you sleep?” You try to make small talk to prevent any uneasy friction.

“Wonderfully.” He smiles again. “I hope you did?” He stands, rounding the bed to gently take a seat next to you. The smell of mint from his gum wafting to you tempting you to taste it.

“I did.” You return his smile, leaning in to touch a small kiss to his plush lips. Your headache is starting to dull some which makes you feel better. “Thank you for last night. I had fun.” You lean your forehead against his cheek as he leans back into you.

“I had fun, too.” He says quietly. Taking in a deep breath, he stands as you follow suit. “I better get going. Taehyung has been blowing up my phone wondering where I am. Really, I mean it when I say I had fun. Maybe… we can link up again soon?”

Hand in hand, you lead him to the front door while Kenai excitingly runs his furry body against both of your legs. Giggling, you kiss Jimin some more, “I’d like that.” A couple more kisses and you smile against his lips, “See ya.”

“See ya.” He nods, kissing your cheek one last time before taking off. As much as you wish that your heart would be soaring through the sky: it doesn’t. All your head can seem to obsess over is why Jeongguk stood you up. Was it all a game? Just to get a high that a girl wanted him, just for him to leave her stranded. What gives? In the end, is it really worth the explanation? You are so sick of getting screwed over.

“Who was that?”

“GAH!” You jump causing Kenai to dash wherever he can to hide. Your heart nearly stopped beating and your hand flies to your chest with relief when you see the teasing stare of your sister, Monnie.

“Monnie! For goodness sakes, you scared the fuck out of me!”

“Well!?” Monnie, not missing a beat, bellows. “Who was he!?”

“Nobody.” That is your first response as if you need a defense mechanism.

“Nobody!? With the animalistic sounds I heard last night, you have the absolute nerve to tell me that was nobody!?”

“He’s… He’s a guy I met a few weeks ago,” you try to reply while your heartbeat attempts to calm.

“He is cute,” she coos. “Like smooth like butter cute. Like the butter you slab on a piece of crisp toast cute. He can make anybody feel warm and fuzzy. Girl, I’m telling you right now-”

“Okay, we get it! I know.” You aren’t sure how to cope with the chagrin reddening your cheeks, or the dulling headache on top of it, but you manage somehow. “Please tell me Yoongi isn’t here.”

“Lucky for you he’s at a conference and has been since yesterday afternoon, so he didn’t hear a thing. I was supposed to go but I got-” She mimics what is supposed to be a cough into her hand. “Sick.”

“Oh! You are ridiculous!”

“It’s called, my sister brought home a cute guy for the first time in a decade, and I must hear all about it.”

“Nope!” You say trying to brush past her. “By the way, it’s only been a year.”

“Not anymore-!”

“Gah!” You clap back, slamming your bedroom door, and diving onto your bed, the mattress bounces your body while you scream heavily into a pillow. The scent of Jimin is everywhere in your room still and your sister’s voice keeps rattling on about how she just wants you to be happy and that you deserve to be even though in your heart, you have no idea when that day will come. Eventually you will confide in her about everything, but for now you will bury your face into the pillow and let the tears flow until you fall back asleep.

-

Monnie reluctantly gives you space, but only because she has ‘somewhere to be,’ and she is ‘not going to let you make her late.’ So, she says. You give Kenai an extra bit of food in hopes to win back his forgiveness and you dress out of the nightgown considering another trip to the coffee shop. Your eyes burn slightly from the crying earlier. After last night, you happen to note that you never got Jimin’s number which is probably a good thing so he can avoid the hot mess of thoughts spinning profusely in your mind. Between seeing Namjoon and Hoseok last night and hooking up with Jimin, you can hardly imagine what the two could have said after seeing, not only you, but you sucking faces with another guy. Though it’s nice to have male attention from time to time, you didn’t expect it all to unravel at once.

Some people would make you feel so stupid for your actions while others would praise you for being so bold and independent. You’re single and you can do whatever you want. Are you really mad that you hooked up with Jimin last night? Out of desperation for running into your ex? Or are you more broken about Jeongguk standing you up, and ashamed that you are upset about it when you only have seen him twice?

You can’t help the way you feel. You inhale and exhale deeply. Running from your thoughts is all you want right now.

Entering the coffee shop, you ordered a cab and left a tip because you really despise driving, and here you are in line eventually ordering the same drink you got last time. Why you feel to look for Jeongguk, you wish you didn’t. Training your eyes to focus on what is in front of you- you grip the coffee cup once it’s placed on the counter, and you find a small table in the back away from as many people as you can avoid.

He has his reasons, but you really hope that the reasons weren’t to play with your feelings purposefully. Even though that’s exactly what it looks like. Inwardly, you accept that you probably will never see him again, and you also convince yourself that maybe Jeongguk really was a figment of your imagination. The messages on your phone will say otherwise, but for now, with the hot liquid of your coffee stinging your tongue, you will continue convincing yourself that he is a simple figment of your imagination.  

That thought lasts about thirty minutes, when your coffee is halfway downed and the view of a tatted hand glides upon the table where you feel your throat shrink. No fucking way. You keep your gaze on your coffee cup, the faint smell of a cigarette wafts in your direction and you refuse to look at him. Anger blares inside you. You can tell he is gradually taking the seat across from you because it is pretty evident how rigid you are in response to his presence. He can tell you are annoyed. Maybe even furious.

“Hey…” He forces once he scoots the chair closer to the table. You stay silent. “Look, I-”

“What do you want?” You look up finally. His look is firm, but guilt stricken all at the same time. He presses his lips together. “No, really. Amuse me.” You wave a hand at him. “Was it a one night stand you wanted? Because you could have just asked.”

His eyes enlarge but only slightly. “No. No, that’s definitely not-”

“Then what? What do you want?” You rarely give him a chance to speak before you start gathering your things. To prevent unwanted attention, you toss the coffee cup into the trash can on your way out, Jeongguk on your heels. Marching toward the sidewalk that you can follow back to the city; you huff in exasperation when you feel his hand curl around your arm.

“Let go of me!” You say loudly, thrusting your arm away from him.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. Just- just let me explain-”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.” You try to walk away.

“y/n. Please.”

You thought you lost your shit last night when you attacked Jimin’s mouth in front of Hoseok. And you thought you lost your shit this morning when you sobbed into your pillow. But this anger and desperation and sadness that you have kept pent up since the day you discovered Hoseok’s infidelity is about to explode. And it’s about to explode in what you know will embarrass you for the rest of your life. Or… it just flat out won’t.

Scoffing, you pause, spinning to face Jeongguk, whose hands raise as if to calm you down, but you are far from calm. “You know what?” You say slowly. “That whole spiel about how I deserve to be respected was a whole load of bullshit wasn’t it?” You step forward making it clear that you aren’t done speaking, and though Jeongguk claimed weeks ago that he wasn’t scared of anything, there is the slightest hint of fear you gather in his eyes though he straightens to let his arms hang loosely at his sides. “I’m starting to think there’s no such thing anymore. First, after three years, with who I thought was the absolute love of my life, three years, he cheats on me with some chick I still to this day do not know who she is or how the fuck they met. So, for unplanned revenge, I fucked his best friend and guess what!?” You throw your hands up, “They both were at the bar last night. Both. Of. Them. How the fuck does that happen!? I move to the city to run away from my problems, and they follow me anyway. They fucking follow me as if I need that reminder. As if I need to relive that heartbreak over and over again. As if I deserve it- to have it thrown in my face.” Running your hands through your hair, you choke back a sob. You refuse to cry in front of this man who is basically a stranger but not really. You don’t notice the remorse showing in his eyes after revealing your limited yet very detailed confession. How he could have easily prevented this.

“I meet you once, and for the first time in a year, I finally know what it’s like to be excited again. To have something to potentially look forward to.” You laugh one syllable. “And yet, I don’t fucking know a single thing about you. Where you’re from, where you work, why you suddenly start coming to this coffee shop when I have never seen you there before, and I keep beating myself up for being so damned hurt about this when you’re a total stranger.” You can’t even look him in the eyes. “And there you are, completely leaving me stranded in a bar when you said you’d fucking be there. Respect, my ass. Have a nice life, Cigs.”

“You do deserve respect.” Oh, why do you pause? “I fucked up last night, okay!? I um…” He trails off, shaking his head as if to rid of whatever he originally was going to say. “Something came up-”

“Is that what it’s going to be every single time!? Something came up!?”

He winces when he acknowledges how bad it seems. “Look I- I know how it sounds. Please. Just let me make it up to you.”

Scanning him from his styled hair to the charcoal color of his boots, the thrilling sense of lust clouds your frame simultaneously to your mouth watering. It takes everything in you not to rush forward and cling onto him as if your life depends on it. But, at the same time, you see a guy who completely ghosted you on a night you may have needed his company most. And, if he was willing to do that to you last night, why wouldn’t he do it again?

The anger is still written all over your face and your demeanor. Sneering, your lips curl.

“No.”

And you stomp off toward whatever destination you hope to find as you did a year ago when you ran from disappointment. You wonder how it feels for him to see you walk away this time.

-

It doesn’t matter the day or the hour. Every time you step foot into the same coffee shop, he’s there. Jeongguk is there. Sitting a table away, keeping his eyes on you. Waiting for you to cave. You have ignored every single message he has sent. Every call he has attempted. Yet, you are also fighting the urge to just be near him. Give him another chance. Maybe it’s the fact that you truly do want to know where he was the night, he stood you up. But is it worth knowing the truth? The only thing you didn’t mention the last time you spoke to Jeongguk was the one night stand you had with Jimin. Not that it was any of Jeongguk’s business, but still. You don’t want to appear like sex with strangers is something you do all the time, because it’s not. And even if it was, it’s nobody’s business but yours.

You decide to walk the city. If he follows you there, then so be it. Compiling your things, you head out onto the sidewalk, letting the breeze nip your skin. The recent memory of LenLen asking about Jimin and you trying your best to answer her questions without blushing replays. She told you about Taehyung and how him and Jimin are best friends which you happened to already know and you relay to her how happy you are that she found Taehyung. You also apologize that you didn’t get to say hello, but she winks at you for she witnessed the reason why.

When you start reaching the city, you hardly can believe the huge sign, flashing upon the tallest building, of Hoseok’s face which roots your feet to the cement while tears spring in response. Cursing under your breath, you realize that one of the books he had been working on back when you two were together must have been released, the one he continuously spoke about. The one inspired from the script he hoped Kim Seokjin would film a movie with. The one that began with you. Which means, if it has become a success, then now you are going to see his face everywhere you turn. And, if the movie is made, that’s even more publicity Hoseok will gain and even more often you will have to see his face. The more hurt you will endure.

“Damnit,” you want to sob. Out of all the places you think to turn, you flee into the bookstore just to almost collide with a book stand filled from top to bottom with Hoseok’s novel. Fret overpowers your system, and you rush out the doors the second you see it, and you figure maybe walking home, no matter the distance, will help clear the stress out of you. Even though you know it won’t. Because at this point, you give up being in public.

You nearly slam into a figure from your rushed state and when the whiff of a cigarette mingled with cologne greets your nose, you know exactly who you’ve run into. “Why are you doing this.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Why are you following me, Asshole? Did I not make myself clear?”

“I told you I wanted to make it up to you.”

“And I told you no from what I recall.”

“I have short term memory loss.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Nemo-”

“I’d prefer if you joined me.”

“You really are asking to get smacked.”

“I like it rather rough.”

“And I’d like for you to leave me the hell alone.”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“And why should I?”

His eyes flit between yours, “Because I can’t let it go. I messed up.”

“You don’t deserve my forgiveness if that’s what you’re implying. To be honest, it’s ridiculous that I’m even mad about it to begin with. I don’t even know you.”

“See, but you have every right to be. You should be mad.”

“Okay. Well then accept that I’m pissed at you and move on.”

“I shan’t.”

You could laugh. You almost laugh. But you hold it together because you can’t just let him think he can get away with how he just randomly leaves you stranded. When you both almost kissed in the alley way, you could sense that his desire was as solid as yours. He acted as if he wanted you. So, why did he just walk away? What is the point in pursuing someone who will always walk away?

Shoving past him, you wish you would have driven this go round so a route of escape would be available. But unfortunately, you didn’t think this through. The only place you can think of is the garden center above the bookstore that you have only visited every now and then this past year. What of Hoseok could possibly be up there? A mural? Stalking in the direction of the building, you avoid making eye contact with the huge ad about your ex, and eventually round the store to find the elevator. There are only a few floors before you reach the top and once you elbow the button to awaken the elevator, the last thing you expect is Jeongguk to follow you right in when the large doors slide open. But honestly you should have expected it.

You elbowed the button for the top floor where the smell of flowers waits for you, but you can’t ignore the tension simmering once the doors close. You bite the corner of your lip in agony, the ding of the elevator agonizingly slow. “I know you’re not about to stop and smell the roses, Eyebrow.” Referring to his eyebrow piercing that makes your insides lustfully shiver, you’re shocked he takes all your nicknames so well, but then you remember you’re supposed to be mad at him. “Why can’t you just take a hint?”

His finger presses to your lips, vanishing your words as he seductively shushes you. And he shifts to stand in front of you, his nose dangerously tickling the side of your cheek while your body fights to not react to the arousal forming below. He whispers, “I don’t need a hint to know that you want me just as much as I want you.” Whimpering, your eyes trace his face, the way his jaw curves, the way his eyes set firmly to you with no intention of moving. Did you hear him correctly? Did he just admit that he, in fact, wants you too? “So,” he continues, slipping his finger away from your lips, he brings his mouth to yours while you sigh in pleasure. Fuck. Your body begs for him to close the gap. Begs for him to kiss you. But he doesn’t. Not yet. “I suggest you behave yourself if you want to keep me tame.”

He is doing to you what you did to him that day in the coffee shop making an effort to seduce him. But this time, he is winning more than you are letting on. When the ding of the elevator brings attention to the opening doors, Jeongguk sighs, “We’re not going there.” Reaching back to hit whatever button he chooses; you don’t even move to see. He can take you wherever he wants, and you could smack yourself for conceding.

“What do you mean?” You murmur, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I um,” he tilts his head as if embarrassed. “I live here. So, we’re going to the third floor.”

“Excuse me, what?” Your mind is trying to make the connection how it’s possible that he lives on the third floor of your favorite bookstore smack dab in the city. You’ve heard of people who have homes above the places they own, so… Does that mean Jeongguk owns the bookstore? You thought he said his stepbrother owns it? His hand finds yours when the doors slide open again, showing shelves upon shelves of books with sparse customers quietly reading or viewing the array of covers.

Your brain cells are racing but never reaching a finish line as your eyes frantically scan the hallway the pair of you are entering. You try to appreciate the feel of Jeongguk’s hand holding yours, warm and firm and surprisingly safe though you wish you hadn’t lost the will to fight. Why is it so easy for him to melt your anger away? To melt your sadness? To heighten your senses.

He scans something, you assume a card, before opening a large door, flipping on the lights to show an area of simplicity and barely any furniture to decorate once you step inside. The scent is new as if it has just been built, but you know that is impossible considering this bookstore has been around for years. Automatically, you both kick off your shoes. “My stepbrother used to live here before, so I moved in.” He says as if reading your mind. “That’s why there’s not much here, but there’s enough to keep comfortable.” He gestures toward a sofa awkwardly sitting in the middle of what you assume is the living room and loud meows start echoing the second you see a few cat towers sprawled out. Flounder and Tetra.

“I remember you saying he owns a bookstore… it’s here?” You say in disbelief as the cats come flying to greet you and Jeongguk. How can you be mad anymore when these sweet little fluff puffs are rubbing against your legs, mewing for attention? Jeongguk giggles while he tries to bring back the conversation.  

He shrugs, unintentionally dismissing the sexual tension that concocted in the elevator only seven minutes ago now that the cats are out and about. “He’s an actor now. He took over when his dad retired.”

“…What do you do?” You’re quiet and you don’t mean to be, but you’ve been struggling with mixed emotions for what seems like an eternity. At this point, you accept if this is a dream versus reality.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, head looking downward. You lick your lips when your eyebrows furrow, but strangely you understand this shame. If your sister didn’t have money, you’d be homeless. Your parents live far away, and in all honesty, you don’t truly talk to them as often as you should. You work part time at a retail store because you can’t seem to get your shit together enough to work full time otherwise, you’d be in the same boat… you’d be doing just that. Nothing. “I used to work as a tattoo artist before I moved here, but um… you may find this hard to believe, but I got my heart broken by someone I fell in love with when I was eighteen.”

“You?” You croak. You mean it to come off as a joke but fail miserably. He finally tilts his head up, softly grinning.

“Yes, a tatted asshole that wears leather and smokes cigs can be capable of falling in love and getting heartbroken instead of causing the heartbreak, Macchiato… Happy?”

Why this vulnerability is happening is unbeknownst to you, but you are very happy that he seems to be opening up. He all but admitted he wants you, too. So, the least he can do is try. Try letting you see past the mystery. Try staying instead of leaving. Saying hello instead of goodbye.

“How long were you two together?” You may have spilled the beans of how long you were with Hoseok, not that Jeongguk knows who he is, but three years is a long time.

“Five years. Found out she cheated on me, too… I lost myself for a long time. Ended up at a different girl’s house every week to numb the pain and never called them back the next day. Became addicted to smoking cigarettes. Went to parties quite a bit… Got drunk, you name it… Moved here with my children the second Jin told me I could. That’s when I finally calmed down and realized, I needed to change before it got worse.”

“I’m so sorry… Sometimes people underestimate the pain of a breakup. Especially if you were with them for such a long time as you were.” It’s quiet a little longer than you mean for it to be, but the similarity of how the two of you got your heart broken is an odd coincidence. But then you gasp when a lightbulb clicks. “Jin!? As in, Seokjin?”

“Yeah?” He says unhurriedly. “Is that hard for you to believe?”

“What? No! I’m just- the Kim Seokjin is your stepbrother? He owns this bookstore?”

“Well yeah, he’s the reason the bills are paid for now until I, myself, can get my shit together.”

You know the concentration it takes to complete a puzzle? Well, this is one of those times. Randomly, you wonder. Does Jeongguk know Jimin since Seokjin knows Jimin?

“Do you know who Jimin is?” You spit out. How are all these male specimens connected? Either way, you are definitely not telling Jeongguk about the rendezvous with Jimin that’s for sure.

His eyebrows scrunch and you visibly witness the way his shoulders rigidify as if he knows exactly who you are talking about. “How do you know Jimin?”

“No reason, just wondering. I saw him hanging out with Seokjin at the bar you failed to show up to.”

“Hm.” He hums once. “Interesting.”

“He co-owns the bar with a guy named Taehyung…  My co-worker is dating him. Taehyung, I mean.” You’re having a hard time reading Jeongguk’s expression, but he attempts to not be so uptight.

“Did you… See anybody else there?”

His question hits you by surprise, but you know there is no way he could be referring to Hoseok and Namjoon… Could he? No, of course not. He wasn’t there. He doesn’t know who your ex is specifically. You may have mentioned your ex and your ex’s best friend were at the bar, but you had never given any names. It’s as if Jeongguk is asking solely about someone else… But who?

Pushing your fingertips to your forehead, you release an exasperated sigh. “Can I use your restroom?” You need a moment to yourself. All this unwanted ‘solving’ isn’t getting you anywhere. And why is Jeongguk being so weird about Jimin? He doesn’t know about the hook up and Jeongguk is also not your boyfriend, so why does it matter?

“Yeah, this way,” he points in the direction of what you assume is his bedroom. “On the right.”

The door gently clicks behind you while your palms cling onto the counter when you’re securely within the bathroom. It’s huge. You can tell it’s spacious by the fact you can breathe amidst the anxiety. A jacuzzi and a walk-in shower, a door that you are confident is a towel closet is what you take in once you twirl around. It’s beautiful and so clean, it’s as if nobody has inhabited it in a long time. Either way, you don’t want to take too long, so you pull out a small bottle of mouth wash and complete a brisk breathing exercise before filing out into Jeongguk’s bedroom.

You hadn’t taken time to notice how large his bed is either. The covers are invitingly dark, and you can tell from the curtains that are slightly split show the windows to a magnificent view of the city. Whoever Seokjin’s dad had to construct this place was an absolute genius. A home inside a bookstore, that would be a dream come true for millions.

You brace yourself when you step into the living room, and you notice Jeongguk is preparing wine glasses, a bottle of red is in his hand as he begins to pour the crimson liquid. His cats are munching on some food that he put to keep them occupied. You can tell by his body language that he is going to change the subject regarding Jimin. “How did you know?” You say ultimately when you pull out a stool in front of the counter.

“Nothing a good bit of wine can’t fix.” He winks. “Plus, I figured it will calm the nerves, so we can actually… talk.”

You nod reluctantly, fingers pressing beneath the glass before you take a slow sip. The taste is sour with the mouth wash, but you know after a few sips that will change. A wave of calm floods your chest and limbs once you swallow. “Thank you.” You murmur. He leans on the counter instead of moving to take a seat next to you. He can’t take his eyes off you, and he can’t even explain how just being around you makes him feel. You bring a comfort he hasn’t had in a long time. He knows he has gone about it the wrong way, but he is determined to not let you go this time. No matter how much his ex keeps trying to reach out to win him back. He wants you.

“I’m really sorry about the bar.” He manages to say. He’s not the best with apologies, but he knows you deserve one. “That was really fucked up. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No… You shouldn’t have.” You’re honest because you know what it’s like to be betrayed. Jeongguk of all people should get it too after admitting that he has been cheated on before as you have. You must stand your ground regardless of how weak he secretly makes you because no, this specific situation may not be seen as a betrayal, but it was not okay that he left you there alone. He does, however, want to confess everything, of why he didn’t show up. But something keeps telling him that it’s too soon. When he’s ready, he plans to tell you. But for now, he wants to prove to you that he’s not going anywhere this time.

“I know,” he murmurs.

Taking a longer sip of the wine, you rub at your eyes. “He really did some damage…” You admit, appreciating how easy it is for the pair of you to start opening up. This is something you have battled to talk about since the day you witnessed it. “I mean three years of my life I gave to this guy, and he just…” You throw your hand up. “He just throws every bit of it down the drain. There wasn’t even the slightest red flag. I came home. Heard them in the bedroom… Our bedroom. And I just-” You didn’t want to cry, but the tears greet you with the burn of your nose. “I just left. I don’t even know how long it had been going on. All I know is I blocked him on everything and refuse to give him the time of day. Because I can’t bring myself to face him. Or the pain of it all.” Jeongguk listens contently, sorrow filling his umber eyes. “When I saw him at the bar for the first time in a year, the anger that filled me at first, I wanted to do anything to make him feel the same devastation I felt that day. Sure, I slept with his best friend weeks after the breakup, but he doesn’t know that. And, as much as I want to say the revenge was satisfying… It wasn’t.” You tap your fingers on the counter. “Now I’m here. I’m here in this city, living with my rich sister, and working a part time job. It’s like I want to live in my misery… At least, I have my cat.” You smile, Kenai’s sweet face bringing you peace.

“It takes a long time to move on from something like that. What happened to me was nearly two years ago and it still hurts.” Jeongguk says because he knows exactly how that feels. He still succumbed to his ex’s every beck and call until he met you. That’s when everything started changing for him. Why he couldn’t think straight. When his ex was trying to distract him, his mind was filled with you. “I saw the guy she was cheating with once. I planned to confront him, but… chickened out. I knew if I wasn’t careful, I’d do something I’d regret.”

“Who was he?” You ask. Jeongguk raises his shoulders, pursing his lips.

“I don’t know his name. Just that Seokjin was working on a movie, happened to meet the guy and my girlfriend at the time was with him. Jin put two and two together and called me right after. He recognized her in some of the pictures I posted on social media before I deleted it all.”

“He’s an actor, too? The guy she was with?” You wonder.

“I’m assuming.” He speaks. “She never really met Jin before. Or at least, I never told her specifically that he was my stepbrother. That was a part of my life I tried to keep distant, but when he called me concerned, I knew why she was coming home so late. Or, why she didn’t panic if she knew Jin was my brother who was seeing her in the flesh with another dude.” Jeongguk wets his lips. “And that’s when he tried to help me cope by giving me his apartment here when he saw how far gone, I had gotten. And that’s why she learned to do research on who I’m connected to because apparently me and Seokjin know everybody due to his fame and fortune.” He means the fame and fortune as a joke, but you still ponder.

“So…” Your expression confused. “If that’s the case, how do you know Jimin?”

Jeongguk swallows roughly, “I asked you first.”

Now, it’s your turn to gulp. “About that.” The stool screeches from under you as you immediately stand, chugging every last drop of your wine before you clutch your things to your side. The indent Jimin left on your shoulder has faded some, but it still befuddles you knowing Jeongguk could clue in if he wanted to. “I-I have to go.” You really don’t, but the way your entire body is flushing, and your eyes are wide with panic. What else are you supposed to do? Running is what you do best. As if a lightbulb goes off, Jeongguk’s laugh reverberates behind you.

“Wait a minute, have you banged him?” Halt. You choke completely on your own spit; your trachea insults you while you cough up a storm. Goodness gracious. Why this? Why now? “You totally banged him didn’t you!? Holy shit.”

“So, what if I have?” You stifle another cough whirling to face him. “What the hell are you going to do about it?”

That’s when the air between you two immediately silences as if you gave him the challenge of a lifetime. Not even Tetra or Flounder are around to fill in the void. It’s as if you both are back in the elevator where the temptation became so alive, it was hard to ignore. It was irresistible. The only sound is your breathing as it increases after Jeongguk’s wine glass clinks against the counter. There’s a prolonged few seconds before it all becomes thunderous.  He makes his way to you as your purse slips from your quivering arm. Your breathing stops. His fingertips press to touch to the skin of your chest as he tickles circles. His eyes flit from your parting lips to the way your eyes start to show you’re imploring for him to not stop. He taunts you. Edging so close to you, his lips are barely on yours when he whispers, “I’m going to make you forget he exists.”

This time, you’re not letting him walk away from you. Not again. Not ever. Your palm finds itself gripping his shirt while you close the gap. The millisecond Jeongguk’s lips connect with yours, it’s electrifying. It’s as if somebody injected fireworks into your veins, shooting across your skin and awakening your senses ten times the normal, exploding across your mind, body, and soul. Your heart pounds so loud, you’re shocked if he doesn’t hear it. You’ve been with three other guys sexually prior to Jeongguk, but something about this is mystifying. Powerful.

His mouth moves with yours as you gasp into his kiss, letting him guide you until the back of your legs recognizes the arm of the sofa. His hand moves to tangle into your hair while you deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue finding yours as he caresses it simultaneously taking his free hand to slip into the front of your pants, but you’re not ready for him to pleasure you yet. You want to show him what he will miss out on if he doesn’t choose you in the end. But you weaken when his heated lips press slowly and gently along your jawline, the arousal you feel drips, his fingers sliding further to slip past your underwear until he runs his fingertips up and down your heat.

“Oh,” he moans with a slight growl burying his face into your neck from how drenched you already are for him. “Holy fuck,” he hisses, trying to keep himself tame. You love the sound of his fingers sloshing up and down against you. But you want it to be you on him.

Shoving him back to give you some space, his hand flies from your pants and he watches you not expecting you to kneel. And not expecting you to fumble undoing his belt, tugging it out of his belt loops, he hisses in response to the point you see his bulge prominently inside his pants. Oh, the way your mouth waters instinctively at the sight of his erection.

Unbuttoning his pants, you yank them down to his ankles, releasing his erection from his underwear where you hum pleasurably at his girth. Your hands run along his thighs seductively; his eyes darken with lust as you connect with them naughtily. Your palm then slides around his length, stroking him agonizingly slow before you take him into your mouth. Letting his precum welcome your taste buds before you hollow your cheeks, the warm skin of his being ignites your arousal even more. His large hand moves to the top of your head where your strands tangle between his tatted fingers. That’s when you begin, bobbing back and forth as speedily as you can, basking in his moans at how amazing you feel. Your hands cling to the bottom of his jacket while you continue your bliss eventually releasing him from your mouth to push him onto the couch where his back plops upon the cushions.

You push his shirt up to visualize his toned abdomen before dipping down to continue sucking, moving your other hand to massage his scrotum, giving him every bit of pleasure, you can to make him crave you. To make him pine for you. Another trick is up your sleeve when your hand returns to his being, following up and down with your mouth while he tries every way not to cum before he gets the chance to pleasure you more. “Holy fuck,” He groans in satisfaction which makes you continue your fun.

Your tongue laps around his tip before you wipe the spittle at the corners of your lips away. When you’re about to continue, he raises, pulling you to his mouth as he kisses you more, becoming hungrier as he shifts you closer. You can tell your clothes are getting in his way for when he pauses, dazed, his hands start to tug at your pants, eventually freeing you from them as you help kick them off. The air in the apartment is colder than you realize. Goosebumps start flying down your legs as you try to regain your focus on removing the articles of clothing off Jeongguk’s top half. Eventually, all linens are plopped onto the floor and your naked bodies are starting to feel every inch of warm skin, captivating every sense, every cell, every emotion, every lustful bliss.

He pauses and you realize his fingertips have paused at the fading spot on your shoulder. The place where Jimin’s teeth sank in. Holding your breath, you see the guilt in Jeongguk’s eyes as his lips become ajar as if he wishes that it could have been him instead. You aren’t sure how to read what he is thinking, especially when he runs the tip of his thumb over the area. But, in the heat of the moment, his other hand slides to the back of your neck where he slightly grips the strands of your hair stimulating you to bite your lip. He tilts your head just enough to cover the spot with his own mouth, sucking harshly on the skin to place his mark. To regain his status. You’ve never seen something so hot, it’s sending immense tingles all through out your frame. He then sprinkles kisses across your chest eventually trailing to your breasts where his tongue flicks over your nipples and the top of his head tickles your chin. Your whimpers increase while he sucks each nipple tenderly, your fingers indenting his back, and the way your vaginal walls leak onto your vulva- you cannot wait for more of this man. Your eyes sweep his figure. His tattoos covering the entirety of his arm.

Goodness, his body is ethereal, and from the way he takes in the view of you bare, you can tell he feels the exact same about you. Your lips tingle for his. Dragging him to you, he crashes his lips to yours, a new addiction you both know will be hard to break. The way his body presses to yours so passionately, it’s as if you have waited your whole life to feel this good. You can still feel the way his lips bruised you on your shoulder, and you adore the way it lingers.

“My turn!” His fingers deliciously dig into your hips, he slides you closer to him despite the limited room on the sofa, and his eyes absorb how sopping wet you are for him even still. He traces his hands to your thighs when you feel your heat clenching fervently for the desire that is taking over your system. Jeongguk wastes no time swiping a finger, sucking your leakage before his tongue starts lapping up every bit of your taste. What really catches you by surprise is how he continues the fast movements, flattening and pointing his tongue seeing which gesture makes you scream for him more. In between, he sucks your clit, taking one hand to reach for the spot above your clit where he massages nice and slow simultaneously while he feasts. “Oh, Guk,” you sigh with elation. “Oh, Guk, yes! Oh my gosh, yes, holy fuck, ah-”

You hardly can contain yourself with how this man is loving your body. He refuses to stop until you feel the powerful jolt of an orgasm, gratifyingly overwhelming your brain as your thighs squeeze together. Jeongguk already pulled away with pure ecstasy of watching you come undone for him. You are so dizzy; you can’t help the way your feet sink into the couch trying to overcome the sensitivity. When you try to shift, to sit up, Jeongguk hovers close to where he whispers, the smell of you reaching your nose.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before carefully lifting his body off you. His hands slide along your arms as he tenderly guides you. Before you can question, he interrupts by kissing you again. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got a couple things I want to set up.” As much as you hate to admit it, your heat drips at the way he whispers this to you intensifying the elation. How many times does he plan to make you cum?

The anticipation as to what he’s about to do. What he’s about to show you. Your ears tune into the sounds of the refrigerator opening- his giddy footsteps jogging to the bedroom where you hear the start of running water. Not just a spritz from the shower… the jacuzzi. Holy fuck. When you thought of steamy sex, you never once thought about the jacuzzi. Your hands squeeze into your thighs, the sensitivity between your legs starting to dim. Your heat clenching around nothing as you feel your nipples bud against the chilled air now that his warm body hasn’t been wrapped around yours for a bit. You never really ventured with sex when you were with Hoseok. It was just the typical quickies before and after work depending on the mood with the occasional use of a vibrator. And with Namjoon, it was a drunken blur. With Jimin… It was just spicy vanilla with addictive kisses, but good enough to get the job done and not hesitate for a second round if there ever was to be a second round.

But with Jeongguk. He’s about to give you a night you hope to relive every moment you see him. When he steps into the living room after a few minutes, you had been biting your lip unintentionally, and you feel him kneeling when his tepid hands place on your knees to then gliding up your exposed thighs. He loves teasing you with his lips, talking against them to keep you on your toes. “I’m ready.” He whispers enticingly. You peel your eyes open, him holding your hands while he helps you stand.

When you enter behind him to his bedroom, you notice a golden bowl filled with ice cubes and bubbles from the jacuzzi mingled with steam is shown from where the bathroom door is open. “I didn’t know to buy rose petals and candles-”

“Oh, fuck that!” You gasp, grabbing his face to kiss him again and again. The excitement is so tremendous, his strong arms adhere you to his frame before he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking the skin before placing your back on his bed. Lifting your hands in surrender, he can have you however he wants. However, he needs you. His eyes trail to the ice cubes where he places one in his mouth taking a few long sucks. When you imagined ice play, you never thought you would actually get to experience it.

He then takes the ice and places it on your chest, the cold nips your skin in a pleasurable way and when he slides the cube onto one nipple then to the other, your shaky breaths echo within his bedroom. He then lets the cube glide downwards once your nipples stay budded till he pauses at the beginning of your vulva. “Do you want me, baby?”

“Yes!” You’re breathless, toes curling against the bed sheets, the cold of the frozen water bringing a subtle pain. “Yes, baby, please. I want you.” He lets the ice touch along your slit, causing your hips to rise involuntarily while he rubs it quickly, coating your heat with the chill. Just enough to absorb your taste. As you watch him intensely, he returns the cube to his mouth sucking more until he places it back into the bowl.

Without preparation, his hands, few fingertips cold, wrap around your thighs, shifting you to his starving mouth as he breathes in your scent. “You smell so good, baby.” He growls, his hair tickling your skin before his tongue starts to flick between your folds once more, the chill feel sending vibrations of desire up and down your body while you moan his name even higher than his previous feast. “Oh, Guk! Oh, baby! Holy fuck, you feel so good! Ah!” Your screams encourage him to flick faster, up and down his tongue presses, lapping up your juices while your hands dig into the comforter. Eyes rolling back, one by one, each of his hands reach to rub your nipples, rubbing so fondly while he licks you, making your arousal build even stronger, so intense, you can hardly breathe. His head makes swift movements while he continues to taste you furiously, not taking one moment to breathe himself. You feel another orgasm building, and before you can stop him, your hips buck to the amplifying sensation as the glint of you shines on his chin. He arches an eyebrow proudly as you melt against the comforter- completely and utterly gasping.

But he’s not done with you yet and you don’t want him to be.

He crawls onto the bed to hover above you, interlacing his fingers with yours that happen to untangle from squeezing the comforter. Still holding your hands, he then moves backwards, helping you up to lead you to the bathroom where he shuts the door behind him. Wherever he goes, you will follow. And so far, you are not regretting one bit.

The steam is still rising from the jacuzzi and when he pins you to the tub, he leans over you to press a button, the jets in the jacuzzi awaken and the entire bath is bubbling for you to enjoy. You smell yourself on his mouth, and when he kisses you again, this time it’s so loving. It’s soft. So mesmerizing, you can’t concentrate on anything else as his hands cup your breasts, rubbing your nipples so affectionately that your heat gushes below you as you moan helplessly against his mouth.

“Get in.” He demands and this newfound dominance is going to make you pounce. You tilt your head when you meet his knowing eyes.

“You first, Cigs.” His nose scrunching into the sweetest smile, you dizzyingly watch him step into the jacuzzi, letting the water engulf his frame before you find yourself joining, putting a leg on either side of his hips while you straddle him. His hands massage up and down your back slowly to gripping your ass. How much more stunning can this man be? When he said he was going to make you forget about the past, he wasn’t fucking kidding. And you are very much okay with that.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers suddenly and your heart swells at his words. Not only did he mean it, but you can feel how much he means it. It doesn’t take long for you to bring your lips to his after holding his gaze, eventually moving a hand to find his erection, posing above his length before he enters you causing you to gasp against his kiss before your body starts to move to the rhythm of his hips as he thrusts into you. The water splashes amidst your moans, him hitting your g-spot with every stroke.

Lips still locked to yours, Jeongguk wraps his arms around you before lifting you enough to lay your back against the other end of the jacuzzi. Water covers your body while the jets massage your skin as Jeongguk lingers above you, entering you once more, your arms hug behind his shoulders while he thrusts. His body molds so perfectly with yours, and you never felt so alive. His large hand moves to cradle the back of your head, kissing you so deeply that your head is spinning. You never want this to end. How he moves so beautifully within you. It’s enthralling. He is enthralling.

When he releases into you, the water washes him away, and he sighs into your neck while you two try to catch a breath.

“By the way, it’s Dory.”

Confusion hits you at his sudden, breathless remark. “What?”

“You called me Nemo. It’s supposed to be Dory. She has short term memory loss.”

Shoving him playfully, you splash water at him while giggles echo, him tackling you just to place kisses to your blushing face. You can’t imagine ever losing him at this point. For once, you feel promise even though a promise has never been made.

-

“You’re smiling.” Monnie says suspiciously as you dazingly exit your room.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It certainly is not. It’s about time you appreciate your life here.”

“I do appreciate it here.”

“Finally… Is it the blonde guy?”

Your eyes widen because you completely forgot that your sister has no idea about Jeongguk. “No!” You say quickly. “No, it’s not him.”

“Okay,” Monnie says slowly, placing her hands on her hips. “Well, something is making you act like a teenager, so spill it.”

“I will at some point just… Just not right now.”

Monnie groans in annoyance. “I don’t know what I have to do to get you to talk to me, but at some point, I need to know your life story.”

“But you do know most of it. We’re sisters, Genius.”

“The boring stuff. I want to hear the dirt. I’m nosy.”

“You wouldn’t be my sister if you weren’t.” You tease. “I will tell you everything when I am ready. It’s… a lot… Okay?”

Reluctantly, her arms loosen in defeat as she rolls her eyes, “Fine,” she drones.

To be honest, you hope to confide in LenLen as well. It’s about time you open to the people who you do trust very much. For the time being though, it’s been a few days since you last saw Jeongguk and he has been messaging you nonstop since then. You felt so bruised down there, especially when you both had intercourse the next morning before you left to go to work. Both were naked and finished brushing teeth, and you wrapped your arms around him from behind. Your breasts smooshed to his back. He couldn’t resist you after that. He lifted you up to where your legs linked around his body. The sex started rough once you reached his bed sheets but ended gently driving your mind wild. His touch is like lightning and he nearly cummed back-to-back when he saw a wet spot under you from where you released post orgasm.

You do plan to see him again, and despite the endless thoughts of him, you figure a nice walk around downtown is a good plan. Downtown is super close to the city but has a smaller string of stores. It’s a different scenery, something to keep your mind from cluttering. It’s been a few months. You don’t go as often because that’s where Hoseok would take you on special dates. You figure with his popularity rising from his newly released book, he may not be downtown as often, so you feel it’s safe to tread.

Goodness though, the way Jeongguk’s touch has encapsulated you into another dimension, you can’t stop thinking about him. Or his lips. Or his smile. Or his laugh. Or his tattoos, how beautifully they decorate his skin. The way he holds you… He’s a dream you hope to always have. Hands cuddled into your jacket pockets, the sun shining brightly in the sky, twenty minutes into entering downtown where cars slowly drive by and the ‘open’ signs flash on every window, you decide to enter one of the familiar shops you happened to pass. Life gets even stranger because when you enter what looks to be a beauty boutique, from the colors and setting you recognize it as one you and Hoseok used to frequent way back when.

“She had me come double check inventory. Just make sure we get more of the eye shadow palettes in. At least, that’s what she requested me to say.” Eyebrows scrunching, you have heard this voice before. It’s oddly quiet other than a radio playing, and your eyes trail to an employee nodding and scribbling down whatever was said. Your heart nearly stops when you see none other than Jimin talking to the employee after shifting through what looks to be a pile of mail. You debate running out of the store, but you never got Jimin’s number, and so you make it clear you really didn’t use him even though you kinda did accidentally on purpose, you make the haste decision to let him notice you. He hasn’t done anything wrong.

He spins around after checking over a few things and looks up at you when you clear your throat. The moment his eyes register who he is seeing, his face lights up. “Oh my gosh! Hey there!” Jimin out stretches his arms, pulling you into such a sweet embrace when he reaches you, and you can’t help but let the relief loosen your tense frame. You melt into him.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“How are you?” He pulls away slightly to read your eyes.

“I’m good… I’m sorry I never thought to get your number.”

“No! No, don’t apologize. I should be sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m that kinda guy.”

“Oh God, no.” You chuckle. “You are just fine.”

Jimin presses his lips together in concentration, his thumb rubbing your shoulder. “My sister had me check up on her store which is why I’m here.” He motions to his surroundings. “With the stress of inventory, I could use a drink. Wanna join?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” You say.

 -

When the strong liquid welcomes your tongue soothing your limbs once you swallow, Jimin eyes you as you twirl the liquid in the glass. The restaurant is nice and dimly lit and you are very thankful that you ran into him when you did. It makes you feel better about what happened between you two.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You say after a minute. Not that you ever cared to ask. “I didn’t know she owned a store.”

Jimin smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, she’s a pain in my ass but I love her.”

“I relate on so many levels.” You chuckle, knowing Monnie would give you a look that could kill with an arched eyebrow in tow.

“Is… everything okay between us?” Jimin is curiously watching you, his expression still concerned about everything. At this point, you both have swapped numbers, promising to keep in touch. With how much your heart pines for Jeongguk, you know you won’t give in to anyone else.

“Of course, it is.” You promise. “I really mean it when I say I enjoyed your company. I just have a lot going on.”

“I understand.” He says meaningfully. “Want to talk about it?”

Considering your answer, you swallow briefly. “My ex… of three years cheated on me. Moved here a year ago.” You continue explaining how you ended up with your sister and how you were heartbroken about being stood up at the bar and how you ran into your ex and his best friend at the bar as well. All in one night. Adding that you are glad Jimin was equally attracted to you and how the distraction really helped overall.  

“Holy shit, you slept with his best friend!? You are bad ass!”

“Oh God, I’m far from it.”

“Dude, no, that’s the best way to get back at a cheater. I’m telling you. Oh, and um,” Jimin leans closer to you with a confident look, his thick lips poised in a mischievous grin, “I don’t mind you using me for whatever you want. I’m honored I got to be your first after a year of abstinence.”

You giggle, smacking his shoulder playfully. “To be honest, I’m glad it was you too. You are so sweet. I mean it. If anything, I hope we can be friends.” You reach to squeeze his hand, him running his thumb across your knuckles.

“Agreed.”

“How long ago did you and your sister move here?” You wonder aloud. “I remember you said you had been here for a long while.”

“About two years, but I am roommates with Taehyung for now. He’s pretty head over heels for his girlfriend so I’ll probably be living on my own soon.”

“That’s not bad at all,” you encourage.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure I’ll love the space, but it gets lonely sometimes… My sister lives with her current boyfriend. I’m not the biggest fan, but he’s a successful novelist. Came out with a book literally like last week.”

Your eyebrows scrunch. What? “He’s… an author?”

“Yeah… I mean he’s a good writer don’t get me wrong, but her last boyfriend… She was with him forever and she did him so dirty. I felt bad for the kid.”

“Wait a minute…” Your head is spinning. This can’t be real. Calm down, y/n, it’s all just a coincidence. You are freaking out over nothing. “Wh-who was her ex-boyfriend if you don’t mind me asking?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but his phone, that has been laying right side up on the table starts to vibrate, a picture of a smiling woman shows. “Oh, that’s my sister.” He says, “Probably calling to make sure I took care of inventory. I should take this.”

“I- I have to go anyway,” you pretend to check your wrist when really stars are showing in your eyes, because that picture. Your mouth goes immediately dry. The shirt. The way her breasts are rounded beneath that shirt. Hoseok’s shirt. The shirt that went missing. The girl in the picture… she was wearing it. She was fucking wearing it.

“Hey, Min-a.” Jimin greets into the phone, waving goodbye to you, mouthing that he will text you as you dart away. Bile rises to your esophagus burning in its wake as you rush outside to the nearest trash can. Holy shit. You can’t breathe and you gasp between heaves. Everything is crashing down as you make the connection. It’s all coming together.

You never saw her face, but you saw her torso decorated with nice breasts and Hoseok’s shirt. Jeongguk mentioned that he was cheated on too and that she was with her new boyfriend who was going over a script with an actor… His stepbrother who is none other than Kim Seokjin. Hoseok has been writing for an actor who happens to be Kim Seokjin. Jimin personally knows Kim Seokjin. Hoseok is now out with a novel. She, Jimin’s sister, owns a store downtown, a store that happens to be one that you and Hoseok used to frequent because you loved their products, but when you left him, you never went back to that specific store. Meaning… he met her there. While you two were still together. But most of all, you remember how tense Jeongguk got at the mention of Jimin… Because Jeongguk knows Jimin. And then there was the confrontation Jeongguk almost had with the guy his ex-girlfriend cheated on him with who you can’t seem to comprehend it to be:

Hoseok.

This can’t be real. No, no this can’t be fucking real. You plead to the universe, wiping your lips with your sleeve as you try to keep the next bout of nausea suppressed.

Jeongguk dated Jimin’s sister who is now with Hoseok. The girl who he cheated on you with. You heard Jimin say her name. You can hardly collect your thoughts to think her name.

Min-a.

When the nausea starts to dull just for you to regain your composure. You run. You run home and you don’t stop until you burst through the door. Monnie and Yoongi are frantic when they see you, collapsing to the floor to catch your breath while tears stream down your face, sobbing as the pain shoots through your heart. Now, you have your answer. Nobody had to tell you. You accidentally stumbled upon it yourself. At this point, seeing the devastation pouring down your face, Monnie doesn’t give you a choice, she demands the truth. As Kenai rushes to sway his furry body against your legs to calm you, you confess and tell your sister and her boyfriend everything. From beginning to end- everything.

Finally, you let every emotion out, every secret released.

-

“So, you are saying that not only did you sleep with your ex’s best friend, Namjoon. You also hooked up with your ex’s new girl’s brother and her ex-boyfriend, too!?” Monnie connecting the dots while Yoongi’s mouth drops open in alarm. “Holy cannoli, if this isn’t the best revenge story ever!”

“I wasn’t looking for revenge!” You spew.

“Not with Jimin and Jeongguk you weren’t, but you have to admit, Namjoon was definitely revenge.”

“Well Namjoon, yes.” You agree with swollen eyes. “But the rest? I had absolutely no idea they were connected.” Your palm is plastered to your forehead, and though Jeongguk has messaged you and called twice, you’ve ignored everything. You don’t know how to approach the subject. Is his ex, Min-a, who is Hoseok’s girlfriend that he left you for, is she the reason Jeongguk kept walking away from you? Why he struggled at first giving into you? Have her and Hoseok been having problems? “No wonder why Hoseok was so… shocked.” You murmur. “I thought it was because I was kissing another guy in general, but it was his girlfriend’s brother.”

“Wowza.” Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t comprehend it. What a small world.”

“Now it all makes sense. They all know each other.” You speak. “That’s why they’re all connected. Holy shit.”

“I definitely know Kim Seokjin. Not personally, but we’ve seen a few of his movies.” Yoongi says crossing his arms, gesturing his elbow in Monnie’s direction.

“Oh yeah, how can we not know Kim Seok-” Monnie notices Yoongi eyeballing her playfully with a quirked eyebrow and she clears her throat. “I agree. They all know each other. Jimin and Taehyung are best friends who know Kim Seokjin because he is best friends with Taehyung. Kim Seokjin also knows Jeongguk because they happen to be stepbrothers and Kim Seokjin knows Hoseok because of the movie script and novel Hoseok wrote. Also,” Monnie takes in a deep, dramatic breath. “Hoseok knows Jeongguk because Hoseok stole his girlfriend at the time, and Jeongguk knows Jimin because he dated Jimin’s sister. Am I forgetting anyone?”

“My head hurts.” You groan.

“Ah, Namjoon! He is best friends with Hoseok and since he was in the same vicinity as everyone I have mentioned, he must know everyone. I’m sure he is familiar with Jeongguk because Hoseok probably told him.”

“You’re good at this.” You blurt. “Maybe you should be a writer.”

“I’ve dabbled a time or two.” She grins, holding a finger in the air. “And that concludes your shit show of a love life.”

“Thanks.” You roll your eyes. Yet, you couldn’t concur more.

When conversation finishes with your sister and her boyfriend, you feed Kenai and give him squishy hugs and kisses while he pelts his tail at you in annoyance. You don’t care how much he prefers his food over you sometimes, you want to give him kissies and he shall accept them. There is somewhere you want to be. Need to be. You just hope he will be there.

Ordering a driver after freshening up and putting on a light amount of makeup, you throw on some tennis shoes and make your way outside. Previously you were always uncertain of the destination you were going to go. But this time, you know exactly where you are going. He will always be who you run to. Jeongguk. You haven’t stopped thinking about him since the day you met him. It has all gone by so fast, yet there is plenty of time to become more than just a thought every other second. But, neither of you can proceed until the truth is told.

The drive feels tantalizingly slow as your leg bounces profusely in the backseat until you arrive at the bookstore. You swish some mouth wash from the mini bottle in your purse as you rush to the elevator after tipping the driver, spitting it into a bush before elbowing the elevator button. Your temples beat to your increasing heart rate. Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you recount everything. It’s time to lay it all out. No matter how risky.

Customers standing by on the third floor watch you zip past, and you try to follow your memory to Jeongguk’s door and when your feet stop before it, you inhale and exhale deeply to calm your nerves. You knock, letting your hope rise because you cannot wait to see him despite the words that haven’t been said. You hear running footsteps- and when the door opens, your breath hitches at his indescribable beauty. You see the way relief falls with his shoulders as he springs forward to hug you- pulling you into his home while the door automatically shuts behind you.

You take the time to hold him, bundling your nose into his warm chest while his hand moves to soothe into your hair. “Hey,” he whispers, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Where have you been? I’ve been super worried.”

“I know,” you murmur, squeezing him tighter. “I know. I’m sorry… Something happened.” You hear the rustle of paws running around the living room and you can’t help but smile at the reminder of the cats. Instantly your smile falls, however, because you know a serious conversation is going to take place. Shifting to step back, so you can see the entirety of his face, he tries to read your expression. He can tell something is wrong.

“I know how you know Jimin.” You can’t help it when tears brim, especially when you see Jeongguk’s body tense. As if he is trying to protect himself from unwanted memories. From heartbreak. He remains silent. “Min-a.” Your voice is hoarse when you say her name. Jeongguk’s hands move to slide into his hair while he sucks in his lips, squeezing his eyes shut the second he registers who you just named. There’s pain in his demeanor. Pain, you know all too well. “She’s who my ex-boyfriend left me for… Hoseok.”

Disbelief, the common reaction, is all over his expression while his lips part as if to speak, but he doesn’t. “Hoseok’s not an actor…” You murmur. “He’s a writer… He knows your stepbrother because he wrote a story he wants filmed with Seokjin as the lead.” You wet your lips. “I met Jimin the day I met you. And yes… I hooked up with him the night the bar opened, but I was so emotionally distraught, I needed something. Anything to distract me because I saw Hoseok there. And his best friend. And… I was devastated that you didn’t show up.” Your fingers touch to your lips as you try to keep your composure. “I had no idea who she was until today.” You admit. “Absolutely no idea.”

“I-” Jeongguk struggles to find the words, but he steps closer to you. “I think it will take time for the shock to settle, but…” He swallows. “I never meant to hurt you that night I didn’t show up.” You feel your tears panging hot trails onto your cheeks, Jeongguk moving to cup your face to swipe the tears away with his thumbs. “I was still battling with whether I should start over with Min-a. She kept trying to reach out to see me again, and I fell for it a few times, but the second I met you.” His forehead touches to yours while you take in his warmth. “The second I met you, there was no one else I could think about. Not even her. In a fucked-up sense, I wanted closure, too. I thought…” He pauses, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes. “I thought if I gave her a chance to explain, maybe that would be enough for me to move on, but… she never showed up each time she reached out. I knew I made a huge mistake what I did to you and when you were all I continued to think about I knew… I knew it was you I ultimately wanted to be with. I’m so sorry I broke your trust. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“No-!” You croak. “No, it’s okay. It’s really okay.” You plea through the tears. His eyes well with them too while you both try to get through this pain. Together. “You were hurting, too. We were hurt by the same people. It’s all so unbelievable, I can hardly understand it.”

“Well, if I haven’t learned anything at all, it’s that karma’s a bitch.” Jeongguk forces a chuckle, brushing a slow, warm kiss to your lips. “I won’t let him hurt you anymore.” You feel the tenderness in his caress. His promise. This time clothes make a trail on the floor to his bedroom where your bodies cling together while love is made through the night. In the end, you hope he is the man that will mend your heart the way you hope to mend his.

No more goodbyes, Cigs.

No more goodbyes.

And that will be your promise.

-

Seven months later…

“Breathe, y/n.” Jeon Jeongguk reminds you as you take in a prolonged, shaky breath. The buzzing of the needle starts to reach your skin while his gloved hands gently touch your limb. “I promise you it’s not that bad. Do you see my arm?”

“I know, Babe. But I have never done this before. Cut me some slack here.” You whine. Closing your eyes, a prick of pain starts to tingle against your skin from the sharp darts of pinches leaving traces of black ink in its wake.

“Good.” Jeongguk encourages. “See, I told you. It’s not that bad-”

He notices you wince when he gets to a different area of your wrist where he is permanently inking your ‘delicate skin’ as you have been referring. You knew you always wanted a tattoo, but it took your forever to figure out what to get. When the idea came to get an ink print of one of Kenai’s paws, you jumped to it. Jeongguk, of course, pretending to be jealous, made it clear that he better be the one who tattoos you. The shop is closed for the day, but Jeongguk being one of the main artists, he’s allowed to do tattoos on his own time, so it is just the two of you in the facility.

You are astonished at how quickly it goes by. The needle stings, but the pain is durable. It definitely is not as bad as you anticipated. It only takes Jeongguk 45 minutes to complete Kenai’s pawprint on the underside of your wrist. “Alright, take a look and tell me what you think and then I’ll apply the wrap.” He sets the needle onto the metal table next to the chair you have been sitting in, and he takes off his gloves.

The skin is red, with small dots of blood as you expected from where the needle etched the ink, but you are blown away by how brilliantly Jeongguk did with your first ever tattoo. “It’s… It’s perfect.” Your voice breaks from the tears brimming. “I love it.” You smile wide.

He chuckles, elated by your response. “I love you.” Preparing the sticky wrap, he carefully places it, afterwards pressing a kiss to your lips. “You did it.” His smile lights up your entire world as he proudly kisses you again.

“Only because of you. I wouldn’t have survived with anybody else.”

“Yes, you would have. It’s not that bad. I told you!” Jeongguk teases, waving his tatted arm in your line of vision while he points at it with his free hand.

“Fine,” you drone. “I would prefer that it be you because it’s more special. Kenai is the love of my life aside from you.” Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow. “What? He loves you, too!”

“Are you sure about that because he’s really gotten Flounder wrapped around his toe bean.”

“He’s got you, too.” You wink.

You moved in with Jeongguk a few weeks ago, adapting to the new life. So far, it’s gone rather well. He may not throw his clothes in the laundry basket, but at least he knows how to make up for it later. Wink wink. You inwardly giggle. Though LenLen was sad to see you leave, not only did Jeongguk get you a job at the bookstore, but you are the store manager which is nice because on breaks, you can just chill at home.

Home being with Jeongguk, Kenai, Flounder and Tetra. The crazy cat couple. Nothing gets better than that.

Jeongguk on the other hand has returned to tattooing. Something he is so talented at that its mind blowing. You are so grateful for how strong of a bond you two have formed since the first day you met. As far as Hoseok, him and Min-a have broken up by the whispers on the street, but you have found a way to forgive him. Especially when he reached out to apologize for how he wronged you and how none of it was your fault. How he should have known Min-a never truly wanted him, and that you are the sole reason his novel became a hit. The day he met you at the park. How you inspired it. You aren’t sure if he knows about Namjoon still, but you are glad he didn’t mention it if he does. You figure he’d tear the book to shreds at that point, but you thanked him for his apology and that you are happy with someone else. Very happy.

Jimin is a friend of you and Jeongguk to this day, but he does not speak about his sister in either presence considering her name is still an open wound. You and Jeongguk are still working on the forgiveness for her, too.

“It’s so amazing.” You awe about your tattoo once more. Jeongguk reaches to hold your other hand. “You’re so talented.”

He shrugs. “It’s a passion… Thank you for trusting me.”

Your lips pull into a gentle smile. “Always and forever.”

Leaning forward, you kiss him again and again and again and again. You love that you can trust that there will not be a goodbye from this glorious human being before you. He will always be your hello the second you wake up, the second you come home and every moment in between. “I love you,” he whispers breathless between kisses and if there weren’t cameras installed for security, you two would be making love right here in this seat.

“I love you too, Cigs.” You whisper against his mouth. “I love you so much.”

[juyeonszn]

(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED

PAIRING lee hyunjae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.58k

GENRES smut ﹒angst ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, strangers to fwb to lovers, a few timeskips here and there, hyunjae is a manwhore but what else is new, he’s also a criminal justice major so, mentions of alcohol, mentions of roblox? idk, reader is lowkey horny as hell 😭, handjob, oral (m!receiving), mentions of sex in various places, hyunjae is an emotionally constipated idiot, juyeon appearance crowd cheered, also cha eunwoo appearance but crowd did not cheer, hyunjae goes through the five stages of grief, no foreplay but what can u do about it, marking, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap u know the drill), cowgirl position yeehaw, creampie yeehaw, little bit of cockwarming st the end ngl

SUMMARY becoming friends with lee hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. also not on your bingo card? waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.

MORE bruh. first of all. i’m so sorry this is so late. 😭 second of all, NOT ONLY IS IT A DAY LATE, BUT ITS ALSO LIKE AN HOUR AND A HALF LATE 😭 my time management was not all there this past weekend, and also due to some unfortunate decisions on my part, this fic was delayed a bunch but WE ARE SO BACK pls. i hope u all enjoy this bc i kinda hate it and im sad bc i was so excited for it and its nothing like how i wanted it to be… pls rb if u liked it 😿 also this is lowkey for izzy bc we’re both going through insane hyunjae brainrot rn..

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr

TAGLIST @millksea @from-izzy

In Hyunjae’s defense, he didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

When the two of you first met, he really was just trying to be a gentleman. He’d always been raised as someone who should do the right thing without expecting anything in return. He prided himself on sticking by his mother’s lifelong wisdom.

Okay sure, he might’ve had a few slip ups here and there in the form of random girls he’s hooked up with, but could you blame him? He was a university criminal justice major after all. There’s no harm in a little one-night-stand fun. Learning the ins and outs of the world of law and order was soul-draining enough without the freedom to stress-relieve whenever he felt fit.

Right. Back to you.

Your first encounter took place at the Tau Beta Zeta end of semester party. The fraternity had been working towards securing their victory against the KAT sorority just so they could host the damn thing. Hyunjae had yet to find a girl to entice him for the night, instead bothering some of his frat brothers. For example, Jacob Bae, who had just won the IST University boys’ volleyball team a championship title.

He could’ve gone after Lee Haeun, Jacob’s ex, but he had higher standards than that. There was also the incident earlier that day, while setting up for the party. He tried making a move on the KAT president to piss off Sangyeon, but that ended up failing. Honestly, he didn’t even care much about sleeping with anyone at these things anyways. Usually pretty girls came up to him first, but then ghosted him once they realized he wasn’t looking for anything serious. That was the only reason why his rap sheet was so long. He’d never intended on being the resident fuckboy.

Hyunjae remembers spotting you across the room during one of the numerous rounds of beer pong that night. Rather than Juyeon refereeing with Younghoon like they normally did, he stepped in to let the younger male enjoy the party with his girlfriend. The current match-up was Sunwoo versus Changmin with their respective partners. He had glanced up after witnessing the soccer prodigy miss a cup, making eye contact with you accidentally.

You tucked some hair behind your ear, bringing your drink to your lips and taking a sip before looking away. Your friends had sucked you back into the conversation you were having, effectively blocking Hyunjae’s chance to shoot any shots. He quickly got over it upon witnessing Changmin and Sunwoo arguing over the game, egging them on like the instigator he was.

Most people would’ve thought that was the end of it. Just a fleeting glance at each other, dozens of people standing between you. In hindsight, Hyunjae partially wishes that was where your story ended. You would’ve just been another girl to him, a stranger he saw once and never ran into again.

It’s funny how the universe works in strange ways.

By two in the morning, when over half of the partygoers had left the TBZ house, Hyunjae felt his social battery reach empty. He woke up earlier that morning to study for his Victimology final and felt drained by the time he walked out of the lecture hall. (He knew he aced it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t mentally taxing.) He was just about ready to call it a night when he saw you sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, blubbering into your phone about something.

“What do you mean you left?” You wail, cheeks stained with mascara streaks. “I don’t care about your boyfriend! I’m too drunk to drive home and you were supposed to be my D.D.”

Your words are slightly slurred, a hiccup following your last sentence. Damn, you were cute even when you were crying like a baby. Hyunjae observed as you argued with who he assumed to be your friend over the phone, exasperated by the end of it. Despite not knowing a single thing about you, not even your name, he decided to step in and offer aid.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you saying you’re too drunk to drive yourself, and as a TBZ member I just can’t let that happen,” he extended a hand to you. “I’d be more than willing to let you stay here until the morning, if you’d like. You can have my room and I’ll just crash in one of the others.”

Your lower lip quivered, as if you were on the verge of even more tears. You sniffle when you respond, eyes doe-like and glassy. “R-Really? You would do that f-for me?”

“It’s a better alternative than taking a rideshare home alone while drunk,” he nods. “And I’m definitely not letting you drive anywhere yourself.”

Hyunjae doesn’t know why he felt so protective over you. The thought of some potentially creepy man taking advantage of you because you were under the influence didn’t sit right with him. He poked his cheek with his tongue, hand still outstretched to you. You took it gently, allowing him to guide you to his bedroom. He grabbed some of his clothes so you could be comfier and gave you a washcloth so you wouldn’t go to be with your makeup on. He felt better knowing you were in the safety of his fraternity house rather than anywhere else. It kind of pissed him off that your friends would leave you to fend for yourself like that.

The next morning, you came down the stairs drowning in Hyunjae’s clothes, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. You held the heel of your palm to your temple, wincing from the headache no doubtedly caused by your hangover. It was around 11 AM when you woke up and most, if not all, of his frat brothers had already left to head home for the holidays.

You found your knight in shining armor sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a mug with the default male Roblox face in his grasp. He was scrolling through his phone mindlessly, taking sips of his coffee every now and then until he heard you. He spins around in his chair, offering you a warm smile.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Did you rest okay?” He asks, getting up to grab you your own mug.

Your cheeks burn up at the nickname. The whole situation is still a bit odd to you. You knew of Lee Hyunjae through the grapevine (every other girl at your school), yes, but you’ve never held an actual conversation with him before. And now here you are, taking shelter in his home and sleeping in his bed. It was sweet of him to be so hospitable, though. He could’ve kicked you out and pretended you didn’t exist.

“That’s probably the best I’ve ever slept in my life,” you laugh to cut through the tension. “Thank you for keeping me alive last night. I feel indebted to you forever.”

“It was no problem, at all. My pleasure, actually,” he grins, passing you a mug filled with fresh coffee. “By the way, I never got your name.”

“It’s Y/N,” you tell him, mouth pulling into a smile at the cup he just gave you, which happened to be the female adjacent to his. “Hyunjae, right?”

He doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed by the fact that you already knew his name or not, but given his previous reputation, he thinks it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. He clears his throat and nods as he drinks more of his coffee. He tries to distract himself from the weird feeling bubbling in his chest with how cute you looked in his clothes.

“Do you not have any plans for the break?” You switch the subject, noticing that the house was empty for the most part.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I’m from here, so it isn’t really much of a drive to visit home. I’ll go over on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Years but that’s about it. Other than that, I like to enjoy having the whole house to myself.”

“Woah, me too! My friends are all from out of town though, so I’m usually really lonely. It’s always so odd thinking about how this is just a stepping stone for people’s lives and I’ve been here all of mine.” You stir some cream and sugar into your coffee, pursing your lips. “So, I take it you’re not doing anything today?”

“Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada,” Hyunjae leans back in his chair. “I’ll probably just watch some movies and call it a day. What about you? Any plans for the break since all of your friends are gone?”

“I have just as many as you.” You sip on your beverage.

“Well, the couch space next to me will be unoccupied if you’d like to join me.”

“I think I might take you up on that offer.”

You feel like maybe this was some sort of elaborate scheme to trap you. Your eyes kept flickering from the TV to his profile, entranced by the blue light illuminating his features. You wanted nothing more than to claim your seat on his lap and ride him into the sunset like a gallant steed, which was ironic considering the way the two of you met.

It’s in the middle of the third movie that you finally feel yourself grow restless. No way could you sit beside Lee Hyunjae, spend the whole day with him, and not jump his bones. It was, like, the most obvious thing to do. It was Lee Hyunjae. Did he expect you not to?

He feels you squirming next to him, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. In all honesty, he’s surprised he’s abstained from touching you this long. From the moment he saw you in his clothes this morning, he wanted you underneath him. He doesn’t know how to initiate anything without seeming too forward though.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to make much effort on his part.

You place one of your hands on his thigh, dragging your nail along the seam of his sweatpants. He turns to you with a raised eyebrow. All you can do is bat your eyelashes at him innocently.

“You know, Hyunjae, I never got to properly thank you for your act of nobility last night,” you start, fingers creeping up higher. “And I just thought of something that I think we’ll both like.”

He doesn’t have the strength in him to restrain himself after that, pulling you into a heated kiss. He nips at your lower lip and tangles his tongue with your own, getting easily lost in the spellbinding of your touch. Your lips trail along his jaw and down his neck, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants. You suck deep marks into the skin of his pulse point while simultaneously palming him through his underwear.

You’re moving fast, but you’re on a mission. You’ve been waiting for this all day, you can’t imagine slowing down now. It doesn’t appear that he plans on stopping you either.

Hyunjae throws his head back, hissing when you discard his boxers. The cool air of the house hits his cock at the same time you bite down on the divot where his neck meets his shoulder. Your hand gently wraps around his length, thumb running over the slit to collect the precum that’s formed there. He watches in a trance as you go on your knees between his legs.

You press a sweet kiss to his tip before taking him into your mouth. He groans, twisting your hair around his wrist so he can control your movements. Hyunjae doesn’t think he’s ever wanted head this badly in his life. He’s always been a giving person, always providing the pleasure for the girl he was with. There were only a handful of times that he’s ever been on the receiving end and none of them were memorable. But this time is different.

For some reason, you’re the only one who’s ever been able to get him this riled up this quickly. You’re still relatively a stranger to him, and even though he’s had plenty of one night stands, it’s unlike any of the others.

Your throat relaxes so you can swallow more of him, tongue swirling around the tip. He’s the biggest guy you’ve ever been with, making things a little harder for you, but you were never one to back down from a challenge. And getting Lee Hyunjae to cum from the work of your mouth alone was the ultimate reward.

Hyunjae moans when your attention focuses on his sensitive slit. The sound is music to your ears, goading you into continuing your task. You gag around his dick and tears prick at your eyes when he pushes your face down further, your nose brushing the lower part of his abdomen. One of your hands wanders, tracing and scratching his abs as the other jerks him off.

He swipes away some stray tears with his thumb, bucking into your mouth and hand. “Fucking look at you, taking me like a good girl. You’re so filthy.”

You whine, squeezing your thighs together for your own friction. You can wait, though, entirely too focused on getting him to finish. You’re thankful it isn’t that much longer until he does, painting your lips and cheeks with his release when you pull off of him to press a cute kiss on the same spot. He knows he finished too fast for someone of his caliber, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.

“You’re so hot,” he brings you up to connect your lips once again.

It was very easy to fall into a habit after that.

Throughout the entirety of the break, Hyunjae would call you over or vice versa and you’d rock each other’s world’s. It was practically an entire month of fucking nonstop. You’d done it in the TBZ house living room, in his bed, in the kitchen, in the shower and every other surface you could think of. Your own apartment had been christened plenty with your sexcapades also. Both of your cars had seen you naked too. But the most memorable place had to be his childhood bedroom the night of Christmas. He went to his parents’ for a couple days and hit you with that 3 AM “You up?” text when his libido couldn’t quell. That was probably the quietest you’d ever have to be.

Hyunjae had to explain to his mom that no, he hadn’t gotten mauled by a wild animal in his sleep. It was harder coming up with another plausible lie to cover the source of the hickeys on his neck, but he’d rather tell his mother something stupid than the fact that he was an insatiable freak.

When it came time for everyone to return to school for the spring semester, you’d deluded yourself into thinking there could be something real between you and Hyunjae. I mean, what else were you supposed to do? This gorgeous man had spent almost every single day of winter break with you, even if it was mostly for the sex. That wasn’t all you did though. You shared meals together and talked about your life goals. You truly got to know him better than just the hot frat guy who’s made his rounds with girls on campus.

However, Hyunjae did not think he was ready for that level of commitment.

After spending a month with you and learning all of your little quirks, he thought he was going insane. He’d been in situationships in the past and none of them ever ended well, especially because they always caught feelings. He didn’t want the two of you to fall down the same path. But he noticed the linger of your touches and kisses and the way your eyes sparkled when he spoke. He didn’t want to be the one to break your heart.

He just couldn’t see himself getting into a serious relationship. He was preparing to apply for law schools and get his shit together. He didn’t think he couldn’t handle throwing a girlfriend into the mix. Even if it was you. Bold, pretty little you, who had Lee Hyunjae wrapped around her finger without trying.

Things come to a speeding halt for both of you halfway into the second week back.

Hyunjae was walking out of his Crime Mapping II lecture when he saw you chatting up Cha Eunwoo outside of the building, giggling and being all touchy with him. He doesn’t know why he feels so… stuffy… when he sees that. He doesn’t know why it makes him mad. He doesn’t know why it feels like his heart has just been stomped on a handful of times.

He walks over to you and clears his throat, hands shoving into his jacket pockets. He tries to ignore how cute you look in your puffer coat, nose rosy from the cold. You pause in your conversation to say hi to him before resuming whatever you were saying before. It was like he was invisible.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” You tuck some hair behind your ear, smiling at the male.

“For sure. Talk to you later, Y/N.” He says, waving as he takes off.

Hyunjae starts in the opposite direction wordlessly, leaving you to stumble behind him like a newborn deer. He looks upset about something, but you’re not sure if you should ask. When you finally match his pace, you frown, tapping his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Since when were you friends with Cha Eunwoo?” Hyunjae blurts, tone catching you off guard. You blink at his outburst.

“For a while, I guess? We’re in the same department and we’ve had a few classes together. Why? Is that a problem?” You stop your steps, forcing him to do the same.

“No, why would it be? I’m not your boyfriend. You can talk to whoever you want.” He backtracks, realizing the connotation behind his question. Shit, why does he not think before he speaks?

“You could be,” you shrug, gaze casted downward to avoid his stare. “You could be my boyfriend.”

Again, because he’s a stupid boy, he chooses not to use his brain in such a critical situation. “I don’t want to be. You can date him for all I care.”

Hyunjae didn’t want to be the one to break your heart, but he knows he did when he sees the flame in your eyes die out. He thinks he broke his own too, chest constricting when tears well up in the corners. You wipe your runny nose with your gloved hand, sniffling with a scoff.

“Fuck you, Hyunjae,” your voice is surprisingly calm, and that scares him more. “Fuck you and your stupid fucking commitment issues and your lack of empathy. Stay away from me.”

He can’t even think of something quick enough to stop you. Of course, his mind runs at a million miles a minute when it’s the worst time. But when he needs it to work most, it fails on him. That’s exactly his luck.

He just stares as your figure gets smaller and smaller, getting further and further away from his reach. His stomach feels ugly, twisted in a way it shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s because he’d considered you a close friend at this point, and now there’s no way you didn’t hate him. He told you things that he hadn’t even told his brothers, things that he hoped would never see the light of day. He’d spoken his insecurities out into the world and you were the one he let see that vulnerable side of him. He had something good going for him finally, and he went and ruined it.

Who could he be mad at but himself?

When Hyunjae sees you again, it’s been at least a week since your argument in the middle of campus.

He’d been beating himself up over the fight the entire time. Numerous what-if scenarios ran through his mind when he should’ve been sleeping. He wonders what he could’ve said to make everything turn out differently. Had he just told you what was bothering him, told you about that icky sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, perhaps you wouldn’t have walked away.

He’s pretty sure you’re doing it on purpose. You avoided him until you knew you’d definitely see him, and then you’d flaunt yourself to purposefully piss him off. Despite only knowing each other for a little over a month, you had Hyunjae read like the back of your hand. You knew he was stubborn and had to be pushed into admitting he was wrong. He’d never outright confess to his mistakes unless you backed him into a corner and forced him to.

So you can imagine his reaction when he saw you walk into that week’s TBZ party with Cha Eunwoo around your shoulders.

If Lee Hyunjae had any faults, it was that he was too prideful. He realizes this when you stroll right past him, ignoring his presence. You giggle at something Eunwoo said as you grab some drinks. There’s no way you aren’t doing this to get on his nerves. Especially not in that outfit.

His grip on his cup is not normal, he knows that. But it’s not subtle if anyone notices and when Juyeon of all people points it out, he knows it even more.

“Yo, dude. Are you good? You look like you might kill somebody if we’d let you.” The younger male pats his back.

“Honestly, no, not really. But there isn’t really anything I can do about it.” Hyunjae huffs, welcoming his defeat with open arms.

“You can talk to me about things. It’s kinda weird but I always feel like getting out your thoughts is better than internalizing and blowing up randomly.” He says after a moment.

“I guess I’m just confused why I’m so jealous of something that isn’t mine.” The heart to heart with his frat brother follows the entire five stages of grief, starting with step one; Denial. He’ll keep denying the real reason he feels the way he does.

“Are you talking about that girl you were messing around with during break?” Juyeon asks, bringing his cup to his mouth. “And the fact that she’s here with Cha Eunwoo?”

Step two; Anger. His cup snaps and the sharp edge of the plastic scratches the inside of his palm. “Why would I be jealous of her being here with him? I could give less of a fuck about that. She’s not my girlfriend, she can do whatever she wants.”

He raises an eyebrow at how defensive his senior gets, lips quirking up. “Sure, Hyunjae. You’re not jealous. But you’re acting like it and you know you are.”

“Well,” step three; bargaining. “I’m not not jealous, I just— I don’t know. I’ve never been on this side of the situation before. Am I even allowed to be mad about it?”

“I mean, it’s a little unconventional, but yeah, I think you are. You spent the better part of a month getting to know this girl. You’ve seen her in ways other people haven’t. Even if you weren’t going into it with the intention to start something, I think it’s hard not to want anything after. Unless you’re completely heartless. But you’re not exactly The Grinch, so.” Juyeon sounds too wise for standing in the middle of a frat party.

“Nothing’s gonna happen now, though. She hates me and wants nothing to do with me because I screwed up.” Step four; Depression.

“You don’t know that unless you make an attempt to fix it,” his junior sighs. “Look, she’s gonna keep projecting how upset you made her if you aren’t gonna do something about it. But there’s a high chance that she’ll forgive you if you’re just real with her.”

And last, but not least, step five. Acceptance. Lee Hyunjae has finally accepted that he’s not an emotionless robot incapable of producing feelings for someone. He takes Juyeon’s advice right then and there, deciding that this is something he has to do immediately. (He also knows how much you can drink at these things and he preferred that you were sober when he spoke to you.)

He thanks his friend and sets off to search for you in the sea of already drunk university students. He’s anxious. He’s never been the type to have serious discussions about anything, really. He assumes that it stems from never seeing that in his own parents. They loved each other, yeah, but they never really talked about difficult topics with each other. Or, in front of him they didn’t.

Hyunjae thinks he might throw up when he finds you in the other room. Cha Eunwoo is still glued to your side, but he’s hardly paying attention to you, talking to his friends. You look bored, like you were waiting for something— or someone— to save you. This was his opportunity.

Your eyes widen when you see him heading straight for you, swallowing thickly. There wasn’t any route of escape so you were stuck having to deal with him. In all honesty, the hurt was still very fresh for you, and you weren’t sure you could handle talking to him yet.

“Can we please talk? I need to tell you something,” he yells over the loud music.

“Why should I listen to what you have to say?” Your tone is shaky, wavering slightly, but you’re grateful that he can’t hear it with how voluminous this party is.

“Y/N,” he pleads almost, eyes communicating what you needed to hear. “This is important.”

You concede, sneaking from Eunwoo and following Hyunjae blindly. You could be getting whisked away to your demise, but the former hardly even notices, too engrossed in whatever he was saying to his friends. You’re a bit apprehensive when Hyunjae takes you into his bedroom, biting your cheek when the memories of what you’ve done in here come flooding back to you.

“Okay, I don’t know how to put this into a coherent thought,” he turns his back to you.

“Can we just get this over with? You don’t want me, remember? I don’t even know why I’m giving you the time of day—“

“Of course I want you,” he exclaims, spinning around and pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, are you blind? It’s so obvious that I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N. I’m just stupid and I fucked everything up, because I was scared that things would change and I’m afraid of change. That’s the reason why I have commitment problems. I don’t want to commit myself to something just for everything to change in the blink of an eye.”

You shut up after that, your heart skipping in your chest. This was what you wanted. You wanted a messy confession. Something that told you it wasn’t all in your head. That you weren’t making things up. That he felt the same way you did.

Your lips collide in a rough, desperate manner. Hyunjae’s never had a way with words, so kissing you with every ounce of longing in his being and holding you like you’d disappear any second was his outlet. This was how he could show you his true feelings. Your heart rate transitions from your pulse point to your ears, amplifying with each suck of your bottom lip between his teeth

You’ve done this so many times before, but it will never be the same as this one. No one could ever make you feel the way Lee Hyunjae does. It might be crazy, but it only took a month for you to realize that there will never be another for you. The conversations that trickled into early hours of the morning following going at it like jackrabbits were perfect to you. They weren’t ideal, but they were enough.

The two of you walk backwards until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, your knees on either side of his lap. You cup his jaw in your hands, grinding down on him every time your lips move together. Hyunjae’s fingers dig into your sides and push up the material of your dress. He’s moving fast, rushed like you might decide you don’t want this and walk out of his room.

You can’t really blame him, your pace disorganized with only one goal in mind. Neither of you could be bothered with the foreplay, too needy and craving the touch of one another as quickly as possible. You part from him to pull off your dress, eyes fluttering shut when he starts leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. He doesn’t want to waste time commenting on the fact that you were braless underneath so he busies himself with pecking the tops of your tits. Your fingers card through his hair with an extended sigh, noticing how long it’s gotten since you first met.

Hyunjae pushes his pants down his legs as you yank his shirt over his head, reconnecting your lips. He uses his ring and middle fingers to shove aside your underwear, discarding his own shortly after. Your mouth nips and bites your favorite places on his neck, ensuring you mark the surface so everyone knows who he belongs to. You were the one who acquired the key to Lee Hyunjae’s heart.

Your teeth sink into his skin the moment he slips inside of you, both of you moaning when he slides right into your cunt like he was meant to be there. You whine when he bottoms out, your sensitive clit bumping into his pelvic bone. You’re so warm and inviting, Hyunjae feels like he’s falling under a spell. Just being inside of you feels like a form of hypnosis. If it was up to him, he’d stay here forever, content to sit with his cock stuffed in you without interruption. But you both yearn for more than that.

He tightens his grip on your hips, bucking upwards into you and watching with heavy eyes as a whine spills from your lips. You look so fucked out despite him doing absolutely nothing to you yet. He thrusts up again experimentally, grinning when your upper half knocks into his.

“Feel good, baby?” He coos into your ear, nipping at the lobe and the area surrounding.

You nod with a whimper when his cock brushes that sweet spot deep inside your pussy. “Mhm, feels so— fuck, Jae, want it harder.”

“Anything for my pretty girl,” he smiles into your skin.

He increases the speed that he fucks into you, pinning down your hips so you can’t move and all you can do is take it. It’s like you can feel him in your abdomen, his cock plunging in you so far. You’d think after a month of fucking practically every day, you’d be used to his size by now. However, that was just not attainable. You don’t think you could ever get used to how big he was, how thick he was.

The force that he drives into you with is unmatched, miles apart from what he’s given you before. It’s like he wants to burn the shape of himself inside you, so you never forget that he’s the one making you feel like this. Nobody but Hyunjae can fuck you this well.

He moves you further up the bed, flattening his feet on the mattress and laying down so he can press deeper, a new angle that has your vision going blank. You don’t think twice about the volume of your cries, letting him know how good he’s giving it to you. You’re encouraging him, wanting him to get cockier so he can keep fucking you into oblivion. Your fingers grasp at the sheets beside his head for support.

Hyunjae’s nails impress crescent shapes into your waist, his mouth returning to your tits so he can leave his own marks all over your chest. It’s when your clit rubs against his lower stomach again that you let go, your orgasm crashing into like a train. It winds you, ripping your breath from your throat and stealing your oxygen. He’s close behind, the feeling of your walls clenching around him in rapid intervals triggering his own.

He fills you up nicely, both of you releasing guttural groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of you. You’re too exhausted to get up, collapsing on top of him. He doesn’t mind, more than happy to stay buried inside of you even if you didn’t do anything.

“So…” You start after a bit of silence, drawing unrecognizable shapes on his chest. “You’ve wanted me for so long, huh?”

“Shut up,” he laughs, eyes closed while he recuperates from using all of his energy on you. “This is still new for me.”

“I know, Mr. Emotionally Constipated And I Don’t Date ‘Cause I’m Going To Be A Big Fancy Hotshot Lawyer,” you tease, pecking his lips and then his nose. “I must be extremely special to be the one who changed your mind.”

“You’ll be the death of me, you know that right?” He shakes his head, brushing some of your hair from your face. You smile down at him with an unfamiliar fondness in your eyes.

“Why else do you think we’ve gotten this far?”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[hearteyedbunny]

Nothing Would Be Harder Than Knowing You're Not Mine

shane/elfie

i wrote this back in september, but i think im finally gonna post it here. lil thing for shane and my farmer elfie. a little bit angsty but fluffy in the end <3 (and if anyone wants a reference for how elfie looks here ya go)

this fic can be found on ao3 as well.

Shane was crazy. He had to be. There was no possible way that any of this was even real to begin with. He was deluding himself, like he always did, trying to convince himself that anything good could ever happen to the likes of him. He was just stupid. He was always stupid. She didn’t, and couldn’t love him.

The sound of the glass bottle being sluggishly placed back on the table echoed against the walls of his untidy room. At least it was on the table, unlike so many of the beer cans and assorted alcohol bottles littering the floor of his room. He always said he would eventually pick them up, but he supposed he said that about everything in his life. I'll pick up those bottles tomorrow, I'll start to cut back on beer tomorrow, I'll finally fucking do something with my life tomorrow.

Shutting his eyes, he groaned and leaned his head back against the wall he was sitting against. His thoughts were still swirling in his head even after consuming more than half the bottle. He knew he shouldn't drink the whole thing, but how else would he get rid of these thoughts of insecurity, of self doubt, of…her? 

She was so beautiful. Not in a human way, her teeth too sharp and her eyes having that animalistic instinct to them. Her long, dark hair shimmered green in the bright sunlight as her small horns poked out of the top of her head. Shane couldn’t help but think she was ripped straight from his dreams. Maybe an acid induced dream, but a dream all the same. She always seemed so ethereal, yet dangerous. Like an otherworldly being with the power to turn him to ash with just a glance of those wild eyes.

And what was he? A human? A pathetic one at that. All he ever did was drink, work, drink, work, and drink again. Occasionally he would interrupt his schedule to head over to her little cabin on the farm so she could have her fun with him. Not that he wasn’t grateful for it, oh how grateful he was to even have a woman look at him, let alone allow him to pleasure her over and over, but is that all he was good for? Sex? He couldn’t even wrap his head around the idea. Why was she wasting her time with him, of all people? Shane was convinced she pitied him, that’s what it had to be. She could have anyone she wanted, multiple people if she so wished. She was so heavenly and enticing, why was she screwing the town drunk? Did she enjoy toying with him, luring him into a false sense of security and then crushing his already fragile heart?

“Fuck,” Shane’s head was spinning, not just from the alcohol, but from all the thoughts rushing back to him. He drank to get away from these feelings, not to accelerate them. Groaning under his breath, he struggled to steady himself against the wall so that he could stand up. Maybe I need some fresh air, he thought as he stumbled his way out of his bedroom. Anything beats rotting inside my room. 

Thankfully, Marnie and Jas were nowhere to be found as he made his way into the kitchen. He grimaced at the thought of Jas having to see him this way, and he hated to think of what Marnie would say about her good for nothing nephew being drunk again. Sighing, Shane managed to grab a can of cold beer from the fridge before making his way outside into the evening sun.

The crisp, cool autumn air was at least a small relief to his burning face. Alcohol always made him feel so warm, but never in a pleasant way. He always loved this time of year, when the leaves turned different shades of gold and burgundy and the hot, humid summer air finally subsided. Every year autumn hit the sleepy little countryside of Stardew Valley and every year Shane asked himself why he never went outside more and enjoyed the weather. Depression would do that to you, he supposed.

Somehow he managed to stumble his way to the edge of the forest, the large pond coming into his sight. The old dock creaked and wobbled under his feet as he made his way to the very end of it, plopping himself down so that his legs dangled off the edge. Cracking open the beer, he leaned himself back on his other hand, taking a sip and looking out at the clear, blue water in front of him. He always loved coming here when his head was clouded, somehow it put him at ease even if just for a little while. For a moment he closed his eyes as his head continued to spin with his intoxication, but it didn’t stop him from taking another large swig of the beer in his hand. At least his head was swirling because of the alcohol and not because of all the thoughts and doubts he had about his…relationship. If he could even call it that.

Shane thought that if he fell asleep right here on this dock, he wouldn’t mind it at all. In fact, he felt himself starting to doze off until his peace was interrupted by a terrifyingly familiar voice that immediately snapped him awake.

“Shane!” Elfie’s always excited voice came from behind him, causing him to straighten from his relaxed posture and tighten his grip on the can of beer in his hand. Shit, he thought, Of course she’s here. Another reason to hate living in such a small town. Can’t a drunk man spiral in peace?

He hadn’t even turned around at the sound of her, too scared to even face her right now. The silence from him didn’t deter her at all though as she plopped herself comfortably next to him at the edge of the dock, her legs so long that the ends of her dirty work boots dipped into the water below them and caused a ripple.

“Hey!” She was grinning that too sharp grin at him, her canines seeming to be even sharper than her other teeth. Usually the sight of them caused Shane’s stomach to flip in delight, but all he could think about at the moment was throwing himself into the pond and to never be seen again. Wishful thinking.

“H-Hey…” He finally muttered back at her, only half meeting her gaze before he looked out into the water again, making sure to chug the rest of his beer as he did. He was definitely going to need it.

“I didn’t see you today! You’re usually always at the bar so I went there looking for you,” She smelled like sweat, Shane noted, but somehow the smell of her perfume still lingered on her skin despite how much labor she put into that farm, “But you weren’t there, and Emily said she hadn’t seen you either, so I thought you’d be home,” If Shane had been looking at her he would have noticed how animated she was as she rambled, always using her hands to talk and map out exactly what she was feeling. Not to mention how her tail swayed absentmindedly, another reminder that she was so wholeheartedly not human, and that Shane was way in over his head. 

“So here I am! And I found you!” She was beaming at him, her feet swaying as they hung off the edge of the rickety dock. Shane had only half been listening to her, mostly because of the alcohol fogging his brain, but partly because he just didn’t know what to say to her. He felt petrified, starting to sweat as all his racing thoughts came back to him full force.

What did he want to say? What could he say? Would she even care how he was feeling? They weren’t dating, after all. At least he didn’t think so. Why would she put any thought into how her latest fling felt? Is that what he was to her, a fling? That had to be it, that’s all he was to her. Just a fun little toy to play with until she inevitably got bored of him and realized what he really was. The town bum, a drunk, a depressed, lazy sack of shit that was only good for pitying. She didn’t return his feelings. He would never be enough for her to be considered anything more than a fleeting thought. He would never be good enough for anyone. Never, never, never, never, never…

“Shane?” 

He realized he had taken too long to reply as his thoughts suffocated and consumed him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, exhaling loudly as he tried to compose himself, apparently forgetting to breathe in his haste. 

“Are you okay?”

He swallowed thickly, allowing himself a glance over at her despite knowing it would be a mistake. She was looking right at him with those beautiful, big brown eyes that shone golden as they reflected the setting sun. Concern traced her features as her thick brows furrowed slightly, causing Shane to look away quickly in shame. He couldn’t handle her looking at him like that. Like she actually cared.

“I…Yeah. I’m fine, just…” He couldn’t breathe, he felt like his chest was going to explode as his heart raced. His hands were sweating, “Can I ask you a question, Elfie?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, why was he so stupid? 

“Oh, yeah! Anything,” She didn’t seem to be picking up on his absolutely earth shattering anxiety, simply smiling softly at him and giving him all her attention.

Shane's mouth suddenly felt like sandpaper, his tongue too heavy in his mouth and his throat feeling like it was going to close up. His heart was beating so fast he could feel it thump-thump-thump in his ears, making his head pound. He should have brought more beer.

"Do you even care about me? Like, really care about me?" His voice broke slightly, tears stinging at his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He hesitated to say the word love instead, not being able to take the heartbreak if she said no.

"We sleep together, don't we?" She cocked her head slightly to the side, her eyebrows scrunching a little as she attempted to understand Shane's question.

"What? Yeah, but…" He avoided her gaze, his grip on the can of beer in his hand tightening so that it had started to dent. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"I don't know it," Her tail was twitching curiously as she watched him, trying to understand what he meant. He seemed upset, angry…but why? Didn't she show that she cared about him? They hung out all the time, they kissed, they were intimate. Isn’t that how humans were supposed to act when they cared about each other? Hadn’t she been doing that for months now? She knew he had been drinking, and she only hoped this was a spout of drunken stupor. Elfie wished that humans would just say what they really meant, instead of making her guess.

"You…" he huffed a frustrated sigh, his patience being strung even thinner than it usually was,"You do know. I know you do," He couldn't stop his hands from shaking, "I just want you to treat me like a real human being. I'm not just some toy for you to play with. I'm real, Elfie!"

She was quiet for a moment, only staring at him as his words washed over her. 

"But I'm…not a human being," Her words were laced with confusion. She didn't understand, but a pang of guilt shot through her chest nonetheless. She finally looked away from him, trying to find an answer as she glanced down into the rippling blue water below them, "I'm sorry, Shane. Is that what you want? A human?"

"Fuck," all the effort of holding back his tears was in vain, as they finally started to burst from his eyes and roll over his reddened cheeks. They felt hot on his face, the anger and sadness bubbling up inside of him and boiling over in the form of tears. 

"You don't understand," he didn't think he had ever felt so disgusting. Sure, he had endured countless nights of sobbing and drinking himself to sleep, but never had he felt so pathetic, so hopeless, so useless. He couldn't even look at her, he was too embarrassed. Here he was, a thirty year old man, crying his eyes out in front of the woman of his dreams. If she didn't already pity him and find him pathetic, she would now, seeing him in this state. 

Not being able to form words, Shane buried his face in the sleeves of his hoodie. He wished he could just disappear, or at least pretend that they had never met. Maybe his life would still suck, but at least he wouldn't have to torment himself over her.

She didn't know if she should touch him, but she did anyway, gently placing a hand on his back and rubbing in careful, soothing motions. Elfie realized that she had never seen Shane cry in the months that she had known him. He was always so calm, if not standoffish, never emotional like this. Then again, somehow she had never been around him when he was drunk either. She wanted to kiss his tears away.

Shane flinched away at her touch, "Don't pity me! Please, please don't fucking pity me," he pushed her away, attempting to push himself up to stand despite how liquid his whole body felt. Somehow he managed without slipping off of the dock, "I'm sorry. I just…I need to go. I'm sorry," He was still crying as he turned from her, his whole body shaking and feeling like it would fall apart at any second.

"Shane!" Elfie was quick to stand and follow him, not that it was very hard to catch up to a drunk man. She had reached out to grab him by the arm before realizing it would be a bad idea, so she kept it to herself, "Shane, please. You're right, I don't understand. Please tell me." 

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the depression, maybe the months of never knowing if his feelings were reciprocated and never knowing where he stood with her. Probably a mix of everything as Shane couldn't stop himself from shaking and his tears just kept coming. Thick streams of liquid poured down his cheeks and dripped onto his already stained hoodie. He was so sad, so angry. Angry at himself, at her, at the universe. They had such a good thing going for all these months, why did he have to overthink things and make a mess out of himself like he always did?

He was still standing away from her, not daring to look into her eyes out of fear of completely breaking down. His chest felt so painfully tight, like it would just combust if he breathed the wrong way. His own arms came up to cradle himself in a last ditch effort to provide any kind of comfort to his aching body. He wished so badly that they were her arms instead. 

"I…" He took a shuddering breath as he tried to calm himself enough to talk. His voice was shaking, "What are we, Elfie? Why do you waste your time with me?" He hiccupped out another soft sob, "I'm nothing. I'm fucking nothing to you. You're so beautiful…" Shane felt fresh, hot tears wet his face once more. God, he was so drunk right now. He felt like he was going to pass out, "If you don’t want something serious, or you just want sex, then fine, but just tell me now so I can get over you."

Elfie had never fought the urge to hug anyone so hard before. Not out of pity like Shane was so convinced of, but out of genuine care. Even if their relationship was a mystery, they were at least friends and Elfie wanted more than anything to take care of her friend right now. Even if she was the reason he was in pain in the first place.

She cautiously took a few steps towards him, her voice soft and laden with concern, "I do care about you, Shane," She tried to choose her words carefully, knowing he wasn’t in a right state of mind, "I thought…I thought I was showing you that," her hands twisted anxiously behind her back. She was never very good at communicating her emotions, much preferring them to shine through her actions, "I liked you, so…When you came over that night…and we kissed…I thought…" she trailed off slightly, hoping she was making sense, "I thought this was how it was supposed to work. I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" She was fighting back her own tears now, her eyes blinking rapidly to try and ward them off. 

She had never intended to hurt him, she would never want to. She was inexperienced, still young for her species, and still trying to figure out what it was that she even wanted. When she had moved into that dilapidated farm and met the townspeople, met Shane, she was happy. She thought she made him happy too.

Shane felt his anger start to bubble again, quickly coming to a boil and spilling over the top, "Did you hurt me? Of course you hurt me! Why else would I be here crying my eyes out and looking like a fucking idiot!" He didn't mean to raise his voice at her, he didn't mean to, but he couldn't contain his emotions as easily as he could when he was sober. He couldn't even think straight, his head now pounding and his entire body shaking against his will. Why was he so worked up? Why was he even hopeful in the first place that maybe, just maybe, something good would actually happen in his miserable life?

"Do you want me to leave?" She didn't fight the tears starting to shimmer in her eyes. Her voice was unusually quiet and small. She didn't know what else to say. What could she say? She liked Shane, she liked all the humans around this small town, she never wanted to cause any harm or hurt anyone. Was she just stupid? Sometimes she felt that way, not picking up on their emotions and not knowing what the right thing to say was. She cared so much, yet never knew if she was doing enough.

Finally turning around to face her at the question, all of Shane's anger melted away and instead was replaced with a sting of guilt shooting right through his already aching chest. She looked so sad, so pleading. Like she was genuinely remorseful, like she genuinely didn't understand what she was doing. Shane had seen her cry before, but only over such small things. Like the time she had caught a frog outside in the rain, and she had hurried inside to show him. She acted like he hadn't seen a frog before, but she was so excited to open up her cupped hands and exclaim about it to him. She had been crying then (Shane! Look how small it is!), but out of pure joy. Now…she stood there, sniffling with tears rolling down her cheeks. Shane noted how she was still so, so beautiful even in her sadness.

"Elfie I…" He ran an anxious hand through his already messy hair, cautiously taking a step toward her. He was staring at the ground, the sight of her crying because of him was too much to bear, "I'm sorry. I'm drunk, I can't…" He squeezed his stinging eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to just lay down. He needed the biggest nap of his life right now, "I can't…Think. I'm sorry."

She could see him now, as he faced her. His handsome face now stained with tears and his eyes puffy. Had she done this to him? Had he been hurting this bad for so long, and she hadn't even known?

"Can I please hug you, Shane?" 

She didn't get a verbal response, Shane simply closing the space between them in a heartbeat. As quickly as she had asked, he was already there, his face pressed against her chest and his shaking arms wrapping themselves around her waist in an embrace. She returned it, holding him tight against her and leaning down a little to nuzzle her face in his dark hair.

He felt so safe in her arms. All of his sadness, his tiredness, his anger, melting away at her embrace. She was so warm and soft and wonderful, like nothing bad could ever happen to him as long as he was wrapped tight in her arms. 

"It's okay. I have you," Her words came out in a sweet whisper, one of her hands trailing up his back and up into his hair to stroke at it softly. He shivered at her touch, starting to cry again. How could she be so sweet, after he had just yelled at her for doing nothing wrong? He had made her cry, and yet here she was, comforting and cradling him like he even deserved an ounce of her kindness. Sometimes she seemed like Shane’s only saving grace. An angel fallen to Earth, bestowing upon him her unconditional compassion.

"Please don't leave. I don't want you to leave me. I love…" Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it you drunk fucking idiot, "I love…being around you," Shane hiccupped softly against her, whining as he struggled to form words. He had never felt more pathetic, but somehow he was at ease as she held him. Maybe he was just too tired at this point to care.

She shushed him, sensing how much he was struggling with his words. If she hadn't been holding him, he probably would have collapsed to the ground in front of her.

"We…we're so different. How are we going to make this work?" Shane sobbed, his fingers digging into the small of her back, "Do you want to make this work…?" His voice cracked, his tone pleading with her. Please, please don't leave me after this, he rattled off in his head, I'm sorry.

She didn't feel like she could answer at the moment, not even knowing how she felt. She liked him, she knew that, but he was right. They were so different, they were different species, sometimes they didn't even understand each other. But she wanted to try, if only to make up for how she had made him feel.

Elfie placed a soft kiss to his forehead, keeping her lips there as she spoke, "You need to lay down…do you want me to take you to the farm?" Her voice was even lower than a whisper, as if her sweet, soft words were a secret for Shane's ears only.

"Y-Yeah. Yeah," He let out a shaky sigh, "Thank you…" He wished he could stop crying, but her never ending kindness just overwhelmed him over and over again. She was such a good person, even if she didn't always understand the people around her. Shane envied her for that.

"Okay. Take my hand, come on," With that, they finally untangled from each other and interlocked their fingers as she led him up the path to her humble cabin. Shane tried his best not to stumble, but it was so difficult when his legs felt like they were made of jelly. It didn't help that his heart was still beating out of his chest as they held hands the whole way. He was sure they had held hands before, but this time felt…different. It felt so genuine, and he never wanted to let go.

Finally making it, Shane attempted to stumble up the three little steps before reaching her door. Elfie kept a hand against his back the whole time, stabilizing him and making sure he didn't fall. He practically collapsed into her bed, the familiar softness bringing him comfort as he finally felt his body relax. He couldn't stop a heavy sigh as he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, the exhale making his chest feel less tight.

A sudden dip in the spot next to him caused him to lazily open his eyes back up, only half lidded now. She had sat next to him, her hand back in his disheveled hair and her nails lightly scratching at his scalp. It felt so heavenly, her hands always did. He made a small noise of approval as he looked up at her. She smiled as they made eye contact, her thumb stroking across his forehead in a loving gesture.

"I'm…" He let out another shuddering breath, trying to still his shaking body, "I'm sorry that you had to see me like this. I…" he squeezed his eyes shut so he could focus on talking, "I tried for so long to not drink in front of you…I don't want you to be scared…" 

"Shh. It's okay, Shane," She cooed at him, "I'm not scared. I could never be scared of you," She flashed her teeth as she chuckled, "You just need to rest, okay?" Suddenly she was getting up from the bed, much to Shane's disappointment, but quickly surprised him again as she walked to the end of the bed and started to untie the laces on his sneakers. 

"Let me get these off for you so you can sleep, okay?" Shane stared at her as she removed his shoes, then quickly removed her own boots and dropped them to the floor with a heavy thud. His heart was beating fast again.

"Why…Why are you being so nice to me, Elfie?" He was looking up at her again as she seated herself next to him once more. The gesture was still replaying in his head. He couldn't remember ever being taken care of like this, "I yelled at you…I…" I'm not worthy, he thought, "I'm an asshole."

Her smile was always so cute, so charmingly sweet, like she had never been mad at anyone in her life.

"Sometimes…" She teased. She remembered when they first met and he had been so rude as she introduced herself. It never deterred her, only making her more ambitious to befriend him. Maybe that did make her stupid, but she guessed it had all worked out in the end, "But…we're friends, right? And…friends take care of each other. So that's what I'm doing. Now, move over."

Struggling to move over, Shane gave her ample room to slide in next to him. They were facing each other now, able to look into each other's eyes with how close they were.

"Is this okay?" Elfie brought a hand up to cup Shane's tear stained face, rubbing a thumb gently over his cheek, then across his lips, "Can I kiss you?"

A smile finally cracked its way onto Shane's face, quickly twitching into a full on laugh at her question. A sleeve of his hoodie coming up to hide his face, trying not to offend her.

"What?" Her pointed ears twitched, her smile fading from her face as she looked at him confused, "Why are you laughing?" Did I say something wrong? 

"I'm sorry, I just…You don’t need permission to kiss me," He hadn't meant to laugh at her, but the question was just so absurd to him, considering how physical their relationship had been up to that point. He welcomed the laugh though, at least he wasn't feeling completely miserable now, “Elfie, we’ve…done a lot worse than that.”

"Well…!" She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, a toothy grin spreading across her face, "You…You said you wanted me to treat you real, so…I was thinking about your feelings!" She was mirroring his laughing now too, "So is that a yes…? I really want to kiss you."

"Y-Yeah. Please…" he gave a short huff through his nose as his laughing died down and her lips connected with his. He eagerly welcomed it, his eyes closing again as he leaned into her touch. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her in against him so that their bodies were flush with each other. He never wanted to let her go.

"Mm…" She sighed happily, smiling against the familiar feel of his lips against her own. She was purring, the noise startling Shane a little before he realized what it was. He didn't think he would ever get used to the fact that she could even do that. 

She was the one to finally pull away, still stroking her thumb against his cheek as she spoke, "Do you want to…talk? Um, about us, I guess. That's what you wanted, right?" She was trying to choose her words carefully as they looked at each other, anxiety now making a home in her own chest. She wasn't good with serious conversations. She had no idea where to even start.

Shane dipped his fingers underneath her shirt, just to touch her hip, just to feel her warm skin underneath his touch, "Yeah, I want to. I just…" His head was still spinning, but he seemed much more relaxed than before, "I'm drunk, babe. I can't…I can't right now. Tomorrow…" His voice was soft, sleepy, as his eyes fluttered shut once more. It felt impossible to open them again, his exhaustion overtaking him as he leaned into her.

She was still purring quietly, looking down at his tired face, wanting nothing more than to give him anything he needed.

"Okay. It's a promise," She was whispering again, causing Shane to shiver, "Get some rest, Shane. I'll be right here."

"Thank you…for taking care of me…" He managed to mutter out before dozing off, pressing his face in against her chest as he used it like a pillow. She giggled at that, returning a hand to his hair and petting him as he slumbered.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep, only meaning to ease him to sleep and then get up and do a few chores that she hadn't gotten to that day, but it couldn't be helped. It was already dark outside, and she had such a warm and soft man right next to her, holding onto her so sweetly as he snored quietly. She felt her eyes flutter shut, not even fighting to keep them open as she joined him in his sweet dreams. 

[lesbiansandco]

An unstoppable force (madd taking up all of my waking and sometimes half-awake! hours) meets an immovable object (the urge to post about madd on my tumblr blog)

i swear i want to relate to my fellow tumblr madders but to do that i would have to Stop Daydreaming and i am not yet strong enough for that (different madd criteria/madd questions) "how many hours a day do you daydream?" bitch all of them?!?!? except for sleeping but i have chronic insomnia not related to madd but guess what my brain does to fill the insomnia gap? daydream and so i lose time before bed too and the first thing I do when I wake up? daydream i've gotten so good at it too - daydreaming all of the time about anything whatsoever without it showing to other people and that doesn't mean it doesn't impact my life (or else it wouldn't really be madd) but i can hide my struggling so well and even snap out of the daydreaming for just enough time to talk to people/function somewhat normally before being sucked right back in the second its possible im a functioning addict but not for alcohol or other drugs Its Just Madd (and its driving me mad[d]) "avoid your triggers" everythings a trigger. everything. anything could spark a daydream or daydream scenario. I have over 10 different AUs for my current main paracosm bc of shit like this (and yes I can keep track of them. who needs brain function for normal human activities when you have daydreams!). and if there are no triggers around? i'll replay a scene just to watch it again or to go through and make little changes to improve the scene. or create another au. there's no escape and the hard part is: i don't want it to go away. at least not right now. i love my paras and paracosms (well, most of them). but i hope one day my life will get to a point where i don't need to daydream all of the time to escape reality and i can just be an immersive daydreamer and a functional human. but right now? that's not gonna happen. and i'm okay with it. and the worst part: i don't control my daydreams. they're set off by random triggers or boredom and i can't control what i daydream about or when, or for how long. usually its fine, but sometimes i'll daydream something disturbing. or gory/graphic. or generally unpleasant. and these scenes are always extra vivid. and when that happens? i want to stop daydreaming. just for a few hours. a little bit of time. but no. its somehow even harder to snap out of it for a little bit and i have to ride it through. and just for a moment, i hate it. i hate madd. and then it provides an enticing, not horrific escape a while later, and i don't hate it anymore. this wasn't supposed to turn into a rant. for anyone who read it, thanks for listening. may your daydreams (madd or otherwise) be pleasant.

[bangtangalicious]

death valley (m) | part 0

summary: this town is wasted & alone. but we are alive, here in death valley, but don’t take love off the table yet. cuz tonight is just fire alarms & losing you 

welcome to death valley. once you’re in, there’s no telling whether you’ll make it out alive. a summer internship turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize 

pairing: ot7 x reader smut ft: drugdealer!jungkook x reader, rockstar!jimin x reader

genre: smut. thriller. eventual yandere. gang!au rockstar!au fightclub!au

wordcount: 6.6k 

warnings: explicit & multiple smut scenes, rough sex (choking, hair-pulling, light scratching + spanking, tearing clothes, etc), penetrative sex, drug abuse, alcohol, manipulation & toxic behavior, guns, smoking, oral (f & m receiving), thigh riding, fighting/boxing, switch!jk, switch!reader, dom!jimin 

a/n: i absolutely loved writing this. it’s wild, hot, sexy, filthy, summer madness ugh. i hope you enjoy (im so nervous lol i poured my soul into the smut) inspired by the song death valley by fall out boy

part 0 | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | finale (lite) | finale (dark) part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | series navi | masterlist |

It was scorching outside. You could hear muted sounds of a bass tuning as you wandered down the dark hallways of the record company that had offered you an internship.

“Here’s one of studios” Ahead of you, a chirpy representative was motioning into the tinted glass door. “They all look the same pretty much and oh!” He backed away as the door slid open.

You felt your breath escape you. A man emerged with such intense eyes you wouldn’t believe. He was dressed formally in a black collared shirt, partially unbuttoned, adorned with silver jewelry. You could see a tattoo begin under his small hoop earrings traveling onto his back, making your imagination run wild. He glanced at the rep and gave him an approving nod before turning. His eyes scanned you, nonchalant, taking more interest- much to your dismay -in the intern next to you. Kim Namjoon.

You had met Namjoon during orientation a few days ago. He was a nice guy, clearly passionate about music. He was also insanely well built, you couldn’t help watching the way his biceps would flex when he would work the soundboard.

Namjoon didn’t seem as in awe of the man who had emerged as you were, but you noticed the man take a pause to inspect his face closely. He then tilted his head quickly, his tongue rolling along the inside of his jawline as if he was annoyed somehow. A smirk played at his lips.

He didn’t bother exchanging any words, he brushed past you to walk in the other direction. You gulped.

“That was Min Yoongi! The head producer. He’s really good—he basically produces all of our artists songs.” The rest of the tour was numb to you, your mind was too caught up in that man’s face. His eyes were almost feline, enticing you. He might literally have been the most attractive man you had seen in your life. He looked so incredibly unbothered, but simultaneously precise. As if he was memorizing every detail of where he looked. Even through the split second you had met his eyes, you felt like he was able to see right through you.

“Y/n?” A hand waved in front of your face. You flinch slightly, returning to reality where Namjoon was sitting across a conference table from you. “Earth to Y/n”

“S..sorry. I just spaced out. What were you saying?” Namjoon smiled knowingly.

“I asked if you were free tonight.” He slid a flyer in your direction. On it in bold red lettering was: RM vs. JIN. Death Valley. 9 PM. “There’s this awesome local…hang out of sorts. I guess you could call it a club. It’s called Death Valley. A lot of the artists here hang out there too. They have fights and stuff every now and then…and there’s one tonight” You noticed him blushing slightly, “Anyway if you’re free. You should definitely come”

You picked up and examined the flyer. The lettering struck you as almost gothic. “Do I just meet you there? How does it work?” Namjoon shifted his weight.

“When you get there, just show them that flyer and they’ll take you where you need to go. You’ll find me don’t worry”

You had never really been to a fight before. But figuring from what Namjoon said about the label artists hanging out at the place regularly, you made the decision to dress yourself up a bit punk. You wore a red pencil skirt with a modest and fitting black top. Last minute you decided to grab a large leather jacket. 

The jacket had a funny story. You were a huge groupie back in the day, and one time at a concert, the lead singer of a band you really liked, Park Jimin, threw his jacket into the crowd, and luckily you caught it. 

You arrived at the address, the cold wind causing you to wrap your arms around yourself. It was quite a happening scene. Girls were dressed in stockings and chokers, smoking something or the other. You couldn’t tell. You saw a good amount of denim, flannel and jewelry. So it was this kind of scene. You mentally high fived yourself for bringing the jacket.

You walked up to the entrance, already able to hear the remnants of loud music. Was there a live band here? You wondered. The busser stopped you from going in.

“Name?” He asked gruffly. He had a cigarette poking out the side of his mouth, and his eyes were darkly lined. You clumsily reached into your purse and took out the flyer, handing it to him. “Hm” He eyed your figure, “Nice jacket. Down the back hall, second door on your left.”

Walking in, Death Valley seemed like any other dive bar. Groups of friend were drinking, smoking, laughing. The ambiance wasn’t too bad at all. Down the back hall. Your eyes scanned the area until you found what you were looking for.

“Nice jacket” You turned to see someone approaching you, drink in hand. He had faded greenish hair that somehow suited his doll like face. He had a twinkle in his eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher if it was him being high or ill-intentioned. Probably both.

“Thanks. I’ve been getting that a lot”

“We don’t get a lot of Park Jimin fans here these days. Are you new?” You nodded.

“Yeah, I’m here for the fight. My friend invited me. He’s expecting me so I better…” The boy put his arm around you casually and began leading you towards the back.

“Perfect, let me show you the way. The name is Taehyung by the way”

You let this Taehyung person lead you through the back hallway. It was barely lit. You followed him down a few flights of stairs until finally you arrived at another hallway. You felt goosebumps on your skin. This place looked insanely sketchy. There was dark graffiti loosely spread out across the walls. Second door on your left. Your eyes locked in on the beaten down door. Taehyung let you go, tugging your jacket so that it pulled off of your back.

“Hey!” You protested but he simply folded the jacket and handed it back to you.

“Trust me. You probably aren’t gonna wanna wear that in there” His eyes dropped to your chest and the back to you, licking his lips. “Come on jacket girl, let’s go have some fun”

You couldn’t even see anything when you opened the door. The strong scent of tobacco, weed, and so much else overwhelming your senses. Taehyung waved the fog from you and guided you through the crowd. There were way more people in here than upstairs. You quickly realized that this was somewhat of an arena. You gripped your jacket tightly as Taehyung held your arms, bringing you somewhere you could finally get some space.

“Who are you meeting? I can probably help you find them” He offered. His actions so far had been kind but something in your gut told you not to trust this guy.

“My colleague. Kim Namjoon. He said he would be easy to find” Taehyung burst out laughing.

“Kim Namjoon?” Taehyung chuckled darkly, “Damn…Joon brought a Park Jimin fan to the ring. What a fucking joke” He smirked meanly, “You’ll see him soon enough.” You heard a buzzer go off, prompting you to look towards the center of the arena, where a small boxing ring had been set up. The ring was torn and tattered, old yellow lights shining down to illuminate the space.  Your eyes widened as the two fighters entered the rink, sliding off their robes. There before you, shirtless, muscular, and with an angry gleam in his eyes, was Namjoon.

“What the fuck” You muttered in shock. You heard Taehyung giggle slightly at your reaction. You watched as the ref began the fight, cheers roared thunderously loud as Namjoon threw the first punch. Your focus shifted to his opponent. He was broad, also well built, and had a very handsome face. You watched as Namjoon’s fist slashed against his opponents almost perfect jawline. The two men hashed it out violently, the crowd wilding. You head a phone ring, becoming aware that Taehyung was on the phone.

“How much did you bet on him…doesn’t matter.” He paused, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” He glanced at you and smiled inwardly, “Consider it done”.

You watched as the opponent, who based on the screams that surrounded you you deduced was Jin, floored Namjoon with a flip. You cringed at the sound of impact. The light was so bright, reflecting off of the ring. You were finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. You turned to Taehyung.

“I think I need some air. How do I get out of here?” Taehyung nodded his head in the direction of an exit. You thanked him quietly and wiggled your way through before you tumbled out the door. It wasn’t the way you had come in. It seemed to be some sort of additional private hall. You heard some voices, comforting you in that you were not completely alone.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you followed the voices down the hallway until you arrived at another set of stairs. You peered over the ledge to see a few men standing around someone who sitting down on a chair.

“I thought you said you drugged him you fuck. Do you know how much we bet on Jin winning tonight?” You heard a loud slap, causing you to tremble slightly. “Scum. This is why I don’t like working with street rats” The voice sounded slightly familiar to you but you couldn’t quite place it.

The men exchanged a few more words that you couldn’t hear too well before the disappeared. You heard a door close, making you think that they must have left the building or something. You slowly crept down, checking the room to ensure the men had left. The boy on the chair remained still, head hanging down. You noticed suddenly that he was tied up, his waist to the chair, and his wrists together behind. He had blue highlights playing at the ends of his black wavy locks.

He looked up and met your eyes. His eyes were large, almost innocent—looking shocked at seeing you. He squirmed slightly, as your eyes landed on the cloth wrapped in his mouth. You set down your things and carefully ran over to help him. You bent over him, chest coming dangerously close to his face as you untied his mouth gag. It occurred to you that you could have just gone behind him. As soon as you undid the knot, you felt the boy take a deep breath. He was so close to you that you felt your skin tingle. You backed away, meeting his eyes.

“Sorry…I’ll…go around” You mumbled. He gulped and nodded, still not saying a word. You untied his wrists and waist. He still didn’t get up. “Are you okay?” You asked. He rubbed his wrists, red markings decorating them all over. “Shit you look hurt. Hold on” You grabbed your purse, rummaging for some ointment. “Here” You got on your knees before him, squeezed out some and grabbed his hand, rubbing it softly onto his scars. You noticed the tattoos on his fingers.

“How did you even get here?” He finally spoke.

“I just came out of the ring for some air…wandered a bit”

“No one knows about the back rooms. Who sent you?”

“Um…” You thought carefully, “T…taehyung? I think was his name”

“Of course” The boy muttered, pulling his hand away from you as you finished. He tilted your chin up towards him, bending down to look at you closer. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n” You pulled away from his touch, bending down to put the ointment back in your purse. You heard the boy groan.

“You look really hot like that.” His hand rested on the top of your head. “Bet you suck cock real good”

You scoffed. “I just fucking saved your ass and that’s what you have to say” You rose, brushing the dust off of your knees. The boy chuckled, running a hand back through his hair.

“How rude of me. Thank you. Wanna fuck?” You couldn’t help but grin at his forwardness. He pat his thigh, inviting you to sit. His thighs did look really delicious. 

“I don’t even know you”

“Exactly”

You shrugged. You weren’t sure if you were second hand high from all the smoke earlier, but the prospect of fucking this hot stranger didn’t seem so bad. You had a stressful day after all.

“Well I’m not sucking your dick on this dirty floor” You established, unzipping your tight skirt. He smirked as the garment dropped to the floor. You made your way into the boy’s lap as his hand immediately found your ass and squeezed.

“A hottie like you has no business in a place like this” He murmured, inhaling your scent as he ran his nose across your jaw. Your hands pressed his chest and you could feel his hard abs behind the fabric of his shirt. You rolled your hips slightly. The boy bit down on your top’s straps, and you watched as he tugged it down to get access to your chest. He ran his lips across every inch of your skin he had access to until he was barely away from kissing your lips.

“I’m Jungkook by the way” He whispered, watching you carefully as you squirmed. He kissed you softly once, testing the waters. He then gnawed at your bottom lip, sucking on it. You let your hands travel up until your were grasping his hair tightly as the kiss deepened. His hands gripped your hips, moving you back and forth on his thigh. He patted your ass, indicating that you get up slightly. 

He unzipped his jeans and you watched his cock pop out. He wasn’t the biggest you had seen, but he looked delicious nevertheless. He didn’t bother taking off the rest of his pants as you reached your hand down and began stroking him sensually.

You watched him as he stared down at your hands. You pumped him at a slow pace, letting your thumb roll over his tip. You let him go and brought your palm to his face.

“Lick” His eyes widened but he obeyed. He lapped at your palm until you were satisfied, then returned to stroking his cock.

“Damn okay. You’re a filthy little slut huh” You smirked. Jungkook grabbed your neck, letting his fingers climb up your jaw and tilt your face back. “You like it rough?”

You squeezed his cock extra tight, causing him to loosen his grip before shoving your own fingers in his mouth. He gagged and you grinned. “You couldn’t handle it” You teased. That ignited a spark in Jungkook’s eyes. You retracted your fingers and he pushed his mouth flush against yours, biting at you harshly. You moaned into him as he smacked your ass.

“Get the fuck on my cock right now” He growled. You grinned, more than happy to indulge him. You raised your hips, shifting your panties aside. Jungkook watched as his tip made contact with your moistening folds. He exhaled shakily as you sunk down on him. “Holy fuck…fuck…fuck” He whimpered, holding you tight.

You grabbed the back of his neck, letting your nails dig into him a little. Jungkook raised your hips, watching as his cock emerged in sight, now sticky and covered with your slick. He guided you back down, but you needed more. You slapped his hands away, tightening your grip on his neck, pulling his hair slightly as you began to ride him as fast as you could. You rolled your hips, bouncing yourself on him with as much strength as you could conjure, letting his cock dig deeper and deeper inside you each time. Jungkook cursed loudly, smacking your ass repeatedly as the pleasure began to overwhelm him.

“You love that don’t you” He muttered, letting his fingers trace up and down your back as you continued to ride him. “Pretty little slut, riding my cock like this…thats right baby…”

You could feel your core tighten at his words as your mind urged to go faster, feeling the brink of your pleasure approach. You whined loudly, burying your face into his neck as you pushed your hips to bounce even faster. You felt hot and feverish, the smell of sex overtaking the room. You felt the waistline of Jungkook’s jeans brush against your ass.

You felt a surge of wetness, the realization of how obscene your actions were turning you on beyond reason. You continued to ride the fully clothed stranger beneath you, biting into his neck.

“Fuck you’re hot” He groaned as the friction on his cock became even tighter. “Fucking away on my big cock like a toy. So fucking desperate…fuck…” He suddenly brought his hands to your hair and tugged your head back harshly. Your neck strained and you winced at the pain.

“Ahhh Jungkook” You squealed, enjoying his actions more than you anticipated. He took the opportunity to kiss your breasts over your clothes, latching on and biting at your nipples over the fabric. The stain of his saliva was evident on your top but you didn’t care. He tugged your hair back again, before letting go suddenly so that your head whipped back up.

He leaned back, slapping your thigh, “Come on baby…cum on me…cum on my big cock like the slut you are…want to see how fucking pretty you look when you cum” You felt your legs getting tired but your orgasm was so incredibly close. Junkook slapped you again, giving you the last bit of motivation to thrust down on him with everything you had, pushing you over the edge.

You yelped out, your voice echoing in the abandoned room, pussy leaking all over Jungkook messily. He watched in amazement as your cunt swallowed him in tightly, your hot walls milking him out.

“Fuckkkk yesss. Just like that baby” Jungkook let go of you, letting his hands fall to his sides limply as you continued to ride our your high.

You bounced on him while he sat back and watched you, a big michevious smile plastered on his lips. “Get on your knees” He growled. Forgetting your earlier protest, you slowly raised yourself off of him and dropped to the ground, knees scraping against the dirty concrete floor. Jungkook widened his legs, leaning forward to stroke his cock as he wiggled it in front of you.

He watched as he rolled his tip across your whole face, circling your lips. You stuck your tongue out, letting himself rub up against it. He jerked himself aggressively and the next thing you knew your eyes flew shut as he cried out in pleasure. His hot seed splattering all over your fucked out face.

You were both panting, completely spent and exhausted. Jungkook let his thumb trace your face, spreading his cum

“So pretty” He groaned kissing you, licking up remnants of his own cum from your lips. He cupped your face suddenly, deepening the kiss, pulling you back into his lap. He pushed your hair away from your face and took a look at you.

“Can I get your number?” You asked him softly, suddenly feeling shy after the aggressive display you had just put on for this stranger. You felt him smile against you.

“No” He grinned, patting your cheek, “But trust me, if you want to find me you’ll be able to” He pushed you off of him and finally got up, stretching his arms to crack his shoulders.

You found your skirt and dressed yourself back up. Jungkook suddenly zeroed in on you as you slid on your jacket. His eyes narrowed.

“Who are you really? Where did you get that jacket?” You tilted your head curiously. What was the big deal about your jacket? “Is this a fucking set up?”

“What…no…I?” You suddenly felt a hand around you from behind and a knife pressed up against your neck.

“Don’t move” Through the side of your vision you see a gloved hand pull a gun out. Your blood runs cold. Jungkook raises his arms slowly. “Get back in the fucking chair you piece of shit” The man behind you growled, “You’re not going anywhere till we get our fucking money back”

You clenched your eyes shut, trembling as you heard the gloved man snicker. A gun shot rang out and you screamed, jumping into the man that held you. You slowly opened your eyes and relief flushed you as you saw that Jungkook was not shot.

The look on his face was of pure fear and slowly you felt the body behind you go absolutely cold, dropping to the floor.  You turned around and you entire body froze.

Standing right there was Park Jimin. The Park Jimin. Holding a gun.

You dropped to the floor, blacking out completely.

-

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself in your own apartment, in your own bed. You rubbed your eyes, not understanding how you ended up here.

You were still in the clothes from last night, but you couldn’t find your jacket. You checked your phone, head pounding in confusion.

Kim Namjoon - 3 missed calls

You sighed. You were going to have to explain to Namjoon why you missed out on watching his fight. You wondered who ended up winning. You decided to google it. Strangely enough, no results came up. Death Valley was listed as a local bar and nothing more.

You arrived at work, head still stinging from earlier. Today was your first day working in the studio. Namjoon met you in the lobby.

“Y/n! Hey!” He walked up to you eagerly, “I couldn’t find you after the” He looked around carefully “after last night, I got a bit…caught up…I’m so sorry. Did you have fun?”

“When were you gonna tell me you were this RM fellow?” You laughed, hitting him playfully. Namjoon grinned eagerly. He was cute, you could tell he was excited to explain.

“Yeah. I do some fighting on the side to make quick money. I actually really wanna be an artist here one day, but I can’t afford any studio time yet.” Namjoon gets a dreamy look in his eyes, “I wanna be a rockstar”.

At that moment, you heard a loud amount of chattering, accompanies with shuttering camera clicks and faint screams. You and Namjoon both turned to see security guiding someone in, pushing away fans and paparazzi. The man who walked in was wearing sunglasses, and had a hat on to remain inconspicuous.

From the other end of the lobby you see Min Yoongi, looking just as amazing, if not more, clipboard in hand, walking towards him. The two men fist bumped and you watched as the man finally removed his sunglasses, handing it to one of the assistants surrounding him.

You chuckled ironically back at Namjoon once you recognized the man, “Like Park Jimin?” Namjoon pursed his lips, glaring at the singer and he followed Min Yoongi towards the studio.

“Yeah. Like Park Jimin”

-

You were in the studio, playing around with the soundboard before the session began. You giggled as you played back a track and warped the pitch. The studio door swung open.

“Hi! Y/n right?” He reached out to shake your hand. You rose and accepted it politely. “My name is Hoseok, you can call me Hobi. I’m a songwriter and junior producer” He motioned towards the soundboard, and you both took a seat.

“So tell me about yourself! What made you want to get into music production?”

“I’ve always been somewhat of a groupie growing up. I used to be really into a band…” You paused, “Well I guess funny enough I was a big Park Jimin fan back in the day.”

Hobi chuckled, “How interesting. He only recently signed with us. That’s what we’ll be working on today. Although quite honestly I’m a bit worried since he hasn’t worked on music in a while”

You nodded, “Yeah that’s what I thought. I heard he had sort of gone off the deep end, with drugs and all that” You realized you were talking shit about a client, “Um…I mean that’s probably not true”

“No that sounds about right. It happens to young stars so easily. They get caught up in the money, the sex, the drugs…the power” He trailed off. “Get some damn good songs out of it though” You laughed.

“Jimin should be here any second” Hobi looked at his watch.

You leaned back in your chair, embracing the silence and trying to gather yourself. You thought back to the previous evenings events. Was that really Park Jimin’s face you had seen, holding the gun? There was no way. There was absolutely no way.

The universe was really testing you today wasn’t it.

“Hi there!” Your eyes opened to see the big star himself, “Sorry I’m late” He reached a hand out but you simply stared at him, blinking in disbelief. He giggled, “I guess you know who I am…Miss Y/n”

“How do you know my name?” You asked. Jimin sat on the couch behind you and Hobi, prompting the both of you to swing around and face him.

He bit his lip, preventing a smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know” He whispered just loud enough for you to hear. Hobi cleared his throat.

“Alright team.” Hobi reached into his bag and pulled out a bag of weed. “I’ll roll. Let’s make some fucking music”

You honestly had never had so much fun at a job in your whole life. The three of you got higher than a mountaintop before beginning to mess around with instruments. Hobi had a bass in his lap, playing around with some tunes while Jimin was a giggling mess, letting his fingers slide across the synth. You don’t know when you ended up on the couch besides him, letting him show you the chords he played.

Jimin turned to look at you, “Mmm…” His hand slid under your skirt, “Something about a girl stealing your jacket like she stole your heart” He squeezed your thigh. Hobi mumbled in agreement, scribbling something on his notepad. “I want snacks” Jimin pouted, “Hobi can we get food? I bet Y/n is hungry too”

Hobi decided to go drive out and pick up lunch from someplace, leaving you and Jimin alone in the studio. As if there was a light switch, Jimin’s giggles and flirting ceased, replaced instead with a more serious and intimidating aura.

“What do you remember?” He asked sternly. So it really was him.

“I…” You weren’t sure if you should play dumb or not. There was a chance that you had seen him shoot someone. Which would make you a liability to him. What if he shot you too? No. You needed to calm down. Breathe. “I’m sorry?” You feigned innocence.

“Do you remember Jeon Jungkook?”

Jeon Jungkook huh. Okay. “Yes. I hooked up with him, but I don’t remember anything else” Jimin peered at you for a while. You met his gaze right back.

As a student, you had posters of young Park Jimin all over your room. You and your friends would dress up all cute to go to his concerts, saving up from your part time jobs to get front row tickets. Eventually his crew and bandmates began to recognize you all. You’d get invited to gatherings, that’s where you first tried alcohol, you even slept with one of his crew members once. Eventually the phase died out, but here you were, staring into the eyes of your idol.

You felt dizzy. It was too unreal.

Jimin finally exhaled, smiling once again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny plastic pouch. You could see some white powder in it. You gulped.

“Wanna try?” He winked at you. You nodded slowly, your mind immediately questioning your judgement. You couldn’t exactly think of why doing this was a bad idea. Jimin opened the pouch carefully. He tilted his neck and poured a small line on it. He smirked at you. “Go ahead baby girl. Snort it” You were weak in the knees, trembling. You slowly scooted closer to him, your heart race speeding the close your got. You could smell him, god he smelled like heaven. You shut your eyes and snorted the powder, coughing out immediately. Jimin laughed as you wiped your nose. “Cute. My turn” You tilted your neck but he tutted, “Not there baby girl,” He reached over to your collar. He suddenly yanked down causing a good majority of your buttons to tear off, revealing your chest and the black bra you wore underneath.

“Rightttt hereee” Jimin traced a line down your chest. “Is that okay with you?” He kept his finger planted, hot on your skin.

“Yes” You worried you sounded too eager, but Jimin did not seem to notice. He helped you lay back on the couch. He poured out his line, leaning down from between your legs, using his elbows to hover above you. You tilted your head up, watching as he took a moment to simply stare at your chest. He pushed the fabric of your shirt aside and traced the outline of your bra, making you squirm. You let out a soft moan that did not go unnoticed. Once satisfied, he plugged his nose and snorted the line off of you. He inhaled the drug deeply, shaking his head and grinning widely. He wiped his nose on his sleeve before lowering himself back onto you. He licked a stripe, cleaning up any remaining powder on you. He simply hovered above you for a while, toying with your bra, watching you as he teased his fingers—occasionally slipping them under the pads. He slowly pushed the cups up off of your beasts.

He watched you intensely as he ran his tongue around your nipple. “Do you mind if I do this?” He asked almost in a cooing way, as if you didn’t know exactly what his intentions were. “Can I suck it baby girl?” You nodded dumbly. Jimin’s mouth engulfed your breast, lathering up the flesh with his tongue before releasing it was a pop. He brought his finger to pinch the wet bud, rolling it between his fingers.

“Jimin” You gasped, arching your back as pleasure shot through your veins. Jimin stopped suddenly.

He dragged you off of the couch, pulling you to your feet and pressed you back against the studio wall. The impact caused a few pieces of equipment to tumble over but he didn’t care. He stroked your jaw as he pressed his hardening cock into your stomach. “Do you feel that baby girl?” He snickered, “What are you gonna do about it? Are you gonna be a good girl and take care of daddy?” You whined, nodding quickly, throwing upper arms around his neck to pull yourself closer into him. “You gonna let daddy have his way with you?”

“Yes” Your whole body was shaking in anticipation. Jimin toyed with your waistline until he was able to drag your skirt off. He circled your waist, tightly grabbing your hips before he turns you around. He walks over the the coffee table, where all the weed, notepads, crumpled papers had piled up. He took his arm in one full sweep and cleared the table, not missing a beat as he pulled you harshly so that you fell back on the table. You spread your legs for him as he grabbed your panties and tore them off of your body.

You watched him unbuckle his pants. Jimin got down on his knees and pulled your thighs towards him so that he could shove his face between your legs. You bucked your hips as his nose brushed against your clit. He places soft kisses along your inner thighs and watches as your pussy squelches, desperate to be filled. He pulls his cock out, making his way on top of you. He takes on hand to harshly grab your jaw, turning your face to the side, the other to line his cock up with your entrance.

“C…condom” You whined. You felt his fingers tighten.

“You’re not on birth control?” He asked through gritted teeth. He sinks into you, his arms grabbing your thighs to pull your legs as far apart as he could. You felt your muscles ache and you cried out. “You better get on it, because I’m gonna be fucking you every chance I get. And I don’t wanna pull out next time. You understand baby girl?” You nod, “Say it” He growled, thrusting into you harshly. You yelped as you felt his thickness fill you to the brim, the stretch feeling so incredibly right.

“Yes…daddy” You managed to speak. Jimin stared at you, stilling just a moment before thrusting into you once again.

“I love that fuck…you’re so tight baby girl. Keep talking. Keep telling daddy how much you love it” Jimin pounded into you. You could feel the table underneath you wobble, the vibrations causing chaos around you as more equipment began to fall out of place and make a mess everywhere.

“So good daddy. I want more…” You moaned as Jimin picked up his pace, “More….more…more daddy more” Your face was flushed with heat and your pussy was drenched. You suddenly screamed out as you felt yourself hit your peak, a wave of dizzy ecstasy washing over every nerve in your body. Your pussy throbbed.

“Mmm yes…being such a good little…fuck…little cock sleeve for daddy hm?” The table creaked loudly and Jimin’s movement became harsher. He let his hips rise far enough so that his cock barely slips out before pounding right back into you over and over again.

You suddenly feel yourself falling as the table beneath you breaks. Jimin growls in annoyance, pulling out of you to stand up.

He doesn’t even bother helping you out of the rubble, instead just points at the soundboard. “Bend over. Let me take you from behind” He snapped his fingers. You furrowed your eyebrows. He was acting as if he fucking owned you, and you didn’t like that. You didn’t know why you weren’t resisting him, you usually played rough, but Jimin had you mute and submissive. A part of you hated yourself for it, a part of you loved it.

You leaned over as told, the buttons of the soundboard painfully pressing into your front. Jimin didn’t held as he held your face down. You winced at the pain, and Jimin fit his cock back inside you. He moaned out, clearly enjoying himself. You maybe not so much anymore. You were drooling over the expensive equipment your body getting scratched up all over as Jimin pounded you from behind.

“It hurts…” You whined, your eyes clenched shut to shield contact from the buttons under your face.

“Like I give a fuck” Jimin laughed, nevertheless he pulled out and let you get up off of the soundboard. You rand your fingers over your face, feeling the harsh imprints. Jimin grabbed your shoulders and pushed you down to your knees. “Suck me off baby. I’m almost done” He put his hand in your hair, pushing your face towards his cock. Your mouth opened just in time and you squealed in surprise as Jimin pushed himself deep down your throat. You gagged, but Jimin continued to push your head into him, thrusting into you. He tilted his head back and groaned loudly.

“Fuckkkk….so fucking close…” He muttered, more to himself than anything. He continued pumping your throat, not even noticing the tears running down your face as you found yourself barely able to breathe.

Finally he came, choking your further as his cum shot straight down your throat. It took all of you to not bite down on his dick as he pulled out. He let out a deep sigh and then looked down at you. You realized how pathetic you must have looked just then. In a destroyed studio room , clothes torn, scratched up on the floor in front of him. He grinned.

“Good.” He reached for his wallet and pulled out a black card, handing it to you. You took it reluctantly. “Be ready with protection next time okay?” He glanced around the room, “Tell Hobi I went home, and uh, you better clean this all up”

You scoffed as Jimin pulled his pants back on and headed towards the door.

“You’re just leaving?”

Jimin looked back at you, slight tinge of condescence in his eyes. “Card’s yours. Deal with it” He shrugged, walking out.

You looked at the card he handed you. It was a credit card. You gulped, realizing the implications of his action.

So that’s how it was gonna be then.

-

Your shirt was ruined, and you had no idea what to do. You decided to sneak into the stylists office to see if there was something you could make use of for the time being. You shield your chest with your arms and carefully crept outside the studio. No one was in the hallway. You quickly made your way down. The stylists office was in sight, and you had almost made it but just as you approached the door the door swung open, and you found yourself crashing straight into the God himself, Min Yoongi.

And you thought your day couldn’t get worse.

“Shit. Sorr—“ Yoongi’s voice fell flat. He noticed your disheveled state and his eyes widened. He took your wrist and pulled you inside. Without saying anything he began unbuttoning his own shirt. You felt your lungs constrict.

He was wearing a t-shirt beneath it, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. He pulled the shirt off and handed it to you.

“Wear this” You took the shirt, thanking him and he turned away to give you privacy. What a nice guy. You thought, much contrast to his standoffish vibe you got the first time you saw him. You couldn’t stop ogling at him though, the way his chains looked across his sculpted neck, his intense, gorgeous eyes.

“I…I’m good now” You said. You tried tucking the oversized shirt into your skirt. Yoongi turned back around. “Thank you sir”

“Don’t mention it” He didn’t smile, he didn’t frown. He simply left you there, absolutely flustered.

series navi | masterlist | [ next ]——ᐅ

a/n: will be smut w every member, the beginning has slight jimin emphasis but its an ot7 fic all the way. basically this just sets the background for the gang!au stuff starting in “part “. 

why did jimin shoot that guy? why was jungkook afraid of jimin? why is kim namjoon so fricking cute? why was jungkook supposed to drug namjoon? what was taehyung’s phonecall about? stay tuned :) 

[visbabylily]

Violets and Vendettas | Vi x Reader

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘

𝚅𝚒 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 | 𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝙰𝚞

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 : Stars shine brighter before they die, she should’ve known they will end up with the same tragedy...

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 :Smoking, smut themes, matured themes, death, major character death, fight, cursing, slow burn

Word Count : 3k

Chapters : One, {Two}, Three, Four

A/N: I edited the last part from the previous chapter, instead of using silver jewelries, I changed it to gold, cause you know, white and gold party😔, idk what I was thinking when I was writing that part of the chapter am sorry , 😖😭, it wasn’t mentioned that much in this chapter unlike last time, but just in case 😊

Im also not very good at writing smut, I do read them but🥲 I just cant write good for some reason, so I hope that doesn’t really bother you☺️

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The party was grand and beautiful, designed in a way as if it was fit only for the most respectable royalties and noble families, pristine white walls decorated with shimmering golden trims, the squeaky clean, almost mirror-like, white and gold marbled tiles, and the countless beautiful people in their equally beautiful white clothes and golden accents...it was a heavenly scene, and not even the masterpieces of Picasso or Van Gogh can compare to the wonderful sight upon her

The alcoholic beverage choice of the party’s host was immaculate, making sure to celebrate the night with countless bottles of Dom Pérignon for the guests to enjoy

The sweet melody of Iosif Ivanovici’s Waves of the Danube filled the room with serene silence, the tunes of the classical music softly caressing the ears of those who listened and taking them to a place of tranquility

Many would kill to experience a party with such refined tastes like this, to marvel at the feeling of drowning in riches, and Y/N cant help but feel as if she was ungrateful for the fact that her heart is longing to be somewhere else…

Her body was aching to be inside the small club room, where there is barely any space available that people are forced to be so close to each other, enough to feel their beating hearts, mind so eager to get itself lost to the loud and deafening music, mouth watering at the thought of the cheap and bitter beer with more foam than the actual beverage

At least there nobody cared for formalities or anything, no one has to be on their best behavior, you just dance without any care if people deem it modest or decent, you just become you, no images to uphold, no masks to hide themselves in in favor of pleasing others, there you just dance and drink and forget about everything

Y/N finds it funny that the small cramped room of the club was the place she felt the more free, not her enormous penthouse apartment, not this astounding ball party, but the club where you can always find Y/N and her friends at

But her daydream was cut off short by a voice whispering beside her

“Care to join me for a drink Pretty?” She turned around at the sound of the familiar voice, eyes lighting up at the sight of an old friend standing in front of her

“Mel!” she gasped smiling at the woman

A smirk plastered itself on Mel’s face, white dress hugging her curves, looking beautiful against her soft dark skin, a slit on the each side of her legs made her look as enticing as ever, dainty hands offering one of the two flutes of champagne she was holding

“Oh no, I've already had too-” Y/N shook her head in refusal was cut off short by Mel pushing one of the cold glass into her hands

“You'll have one” Mel said smiling

“Gee, demanding as ever you are” she whispered as she lifted her glass to clink it with Mel’s raised one

“How have you been, Mel?” Y/N asked after taking a sip of the bubbly yet bittersweet champagne, she watched Mel do the same and patiently waited for her reply, “I’ve been good”

“I’ve heard of your engageme-”

“Arranged.”

“Right...Arranged engagement to The Talis's son, how has that been?” Y/N continued her unfinished question, making sure to say Mel’s word just a bit in a higher volume, as her big, bright and slightly teasing eyes looking at Mel expectantly, excited to hear and gossip about a possible budding romance between the children of the Talis and the Medarda family, known to be powerhouses in the business industry

“He’s not so bad, I suppose” Mel said, Y/N nodded as a response, letting Mel continue “a momma’s boy…but I quite dig it” Mel finished in a suggestive tone, winking at Y/N who flushed and turned red at the unexpected comment

To the eyes of many, it would be a peculiar sight to see the scary Mel engaging in a conversation with the sweet Y/N, but little do they know is that Mel has always been a good friend since childhood, although she will admit it was hard to see eye to eye with Mel at first, she was materialistic, posh and a bit of snob

Although Mel Medarda is a force to be reckoned with, hence the nickname scary Mel, she wasn’t all bad, it was just hard to find a common ground with her sometimes, cause when Y/N sees the beauty in all of things, Mel looks at the price of it

But all in all, Y/N and Mel have gotten close over the years of their childhood, although less so as they get older, Mel is still the one Y/N would look for during parties like this to keep her company

Their exchange of words and giggles were cut short by Mel’s Mother joining the conversation, to which the scary Mel rolled her eyes at, putting her hands on her hips as she turned to her mother

“What is it?” Mel asked, annoyed at the fact that her grand reunion with an old friend just had to be cut short by her Mother, Mrs. Medarda ignored her daughter as she walked over to you

“Good evening Mrs. Medarda” Y/N smiled politely at the intimidating woman

“And to you” She greeted back “How has your Father been these days? I havent seen him in a while” The old woman asked, not bothering with formalities and diving straight to asking the more important questions

“Oh, he’s doing good, still abroad, but I believe he should be back home soon” Y/N replied, but opposite to her statement, Y/N hasn’t seen nor talked to her father for months now, matter of fact she never really see her father that much even when she was young, always had his business as his priority, and the only time she ever catch a glimpse of him is when he will boast and brag about his daughter, Y/N Sharp the lone successor of his empire, to his colleagues and during parties, any other than that her father was a ghost, like a boogeyman, appearing only when necessary

“That’s good, do inform me when he comes back from abroad” Mrs. Medarda said in a low voice “and tell him I need to talk to him about...business” the woman said, but Y/N wasn’t able to reply as Mel decided to do it for her

“She’s not your secretary” Mel once again intervened making her mother give her a pointed look, Y/N watched the two exchange a heated stare before she decided to put a stop to it by touching Mel’s shoulder and replying to the older woman “Of course, Mrs. Medarda”

“Thank you, I shall excuse myself then, let you enjoy your night” The woman said bidding them goodbye

“As you should” Mel murmured, making her mother turn around to face her, Mel now crossing her arms as her mother put her own on her hips

“T-Thank you for the greetings Mrs. Medarda, it was quite nice of you to do so” Y/N hastily but still politely said after noticing Mrs. Medarda now squinting her eyes at her daughter, Mel not failing to return it, Y/N stood silently, wary eyes switching between the two woman glaring at each other, the older Medarda just scoffed in the younger one’s direction before finally taking her leave, Mel watched her mother’s retreating back waiting and making sure she was out of earshot before speaking

“Ugh she's so bossy” Mel groaned making Y/N giggle mischief dancing around in her eyes

“So that's where you got that from” She joked, making Mel look incredulously at her, topping it off with a hand on her chest

“You dare, I just defended you!” Mel hissed at her friend, feigning offence at the comparison, making Y/N almost bellow out in laughter over the party full of people, who might she add, definitely would not take kindly to a ‘lady’ not covering her mouth when laughing

“Sorry, sorry, I couldn't help it” Y/N said cheekiness still evident in her voice, nudging Mel softly with her shoulders, Mel humored her even more by rolling her eyes at the girl

“But I suppose you’re right...after all” Mel paused to look at her, and Y/N understood exactly what she was trying to say, she shook her head lightly before smiling and saying in unison with her friend “…A Medarda always get what she wants” both recalling the memories of Mrs. Medarda always saying the same statement to Mel after every lecture

The party continued despite after what happened, and Y/N was more than thankful for Mel’s company, although it wasn’t quite like the club where she could totally lose herself to some loud music, it was enough to save her from being trapped in her own thoughts

As much as she didn’t want it to end, some goodbyes are necessary, she would even say that she was slightly happy to see the hint of forlorn look on her friend’s face as they bid goodbye to each other, warmed at the heart from Mel’s soft parting words “…hey, don't be stranger okay?”

With a nod and a hug, Y/N watched as Mel got into her car, the driver closing the door for her, she gave Y/N one last wave from the closed window before driving away from the party

She was about to do the same and get into her own car, the opened door ready and waiting for her, but a loud clattering sound in the dead of the night stopped her in her tracks, curious, she lifted her head up to look around for the source of the sound, catching a glimpse of the unforgettable head of pink locks and bright red jacket, (E/C) orbs following the speed-walking woman across the street, and before she even realize what she was doing, her own legs was taking her to the direction of the girl

“Ma’am! Where are you going?” The driver called out, about to ran up to follow her, but unsure if it would be fine to leave the car alone, and without the person he was supposed to take home inside

“I have somewhere to be!” She called back, picking up her pace not wanting to lose sight of her target

“But...but the car?” The driver asked, to which Y/N just waved and dismissed before yelling “I dont need it thank you!” not bothering to look back at the troubled face now etched onto her driver’s face

She watched the woman took out a cigarette from her pocket before turning around the corner, Y/N tsked to herself as she walked even faster, the cold wind harsh against her bare arms, she turned the same corner and did not expect to bump into a man, almost falling on her ass

“Hey watch it” Y/N hissed at the man who hastily walked away with his face turned down not even bothering to apologize, she just shook her and realized that the girl was walking farther away from her, making her jog to catch up to the smoking woman

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Vi with furrowed brows and downturned lips, listened in closely as her friend her in with the information they gathered about the Spider Lily when she was locked away in prison

“And listen to this” Ekko said, making Vi leaned in even more closely “One of our men overheard some goons saying this, that The Spider Man-”

“Spider Lily” Vi corrected staring into his eyes, making him roll his eyes and groan “Spider LILY-” Ekko yelled, “happy?” he asked to which Vi nodded

“-has a daughter” he finished

“...a daughter?” Vi whispered, thinking to herself, Ekko nodded at her

“Yup, which is the good news, bad news? we know nothing about her, buuut if we find out who she is, we could probably have a spy on her, milk some information out of her and move on from there, that'll be the easiest way to take down the Spider Lily” Ekko explained, taking a big gulp from the bottled beer as he leaned his weight on the desk in front of Vi

“or better yet kill the daughter, that'll definitely bring that asshole clambering out of whatever hole he crawled into” Vi scoffed, leaning against the back of the chair she was sat in, her laid back attitude after what she just said making Ekko frown

“Vi…”

“We're not murderers...we're not like him” Ekko murmured looking Vi in the eyes, who in turn looked away from him, deep in thought and frowning

People change, Ekko knows that, he himself has changed from that young snotty crybaby who always runs up to Vi to be protected from the bad guys, as he and Powder would call them, to the man he is now

He can’t imagine the hell Vi went through during her times locked in prison, but he can see how it completely changed her, yes she was still Vi, the same strong Vi who would quite literally block the bad guys’ punches with her face just to protect them

The difference between him and Vi is the fact that he changed because he gained the capability to protect himself and the people he cares about, he gained something to change…while Vi changed because she lost well...everything, and death took not just Vander, but also Vi’s warm and forgiving heart, leaving her with nothing but a heart of stone, cold and unfeeling

It was an honest mistake, but he couldn’t take back the words that left his mouth in a murmur “Vander would’ve said the same thing”

He looked up at the noise of the rusty metal chair hitting the cemented floor, rattling loudly on impact

“...Im gonna cool off”

Was the last words Vi whispered to him before disappearing into the silent and cold night, not even letting him reply nor apologize

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Vi groaned to herself, she didn’t mean to lose her cool and react like that, she also knows that Ekko didn’t mean to mention Vander so carelessly in front of her, but she can’t help when something in her snapped at the mention of her now gone father-figure, the one who took care of her and taught her everything

She ran her hands through the strands of her pink hair, foot having a mind of it’s own as it made contact with the thin metal trash can on the side of the street, leaving a noticeable dent on it

She reached inside her pocket, grabbing the fresh pack of cigarettes, sticking it into her mouth and lighting the death stick as she walked briskly, cracking her neck as she took a puff of her cigarette, too busy with her thoughts to notice the girl standing in front of her

“Hi again, asshole” Vi almost bumped into the girl whose hands was placed on her hips, Vi didn’t say anything and instead continued smoking, not moving from the spot she was rooted in, shamelessly letting her blue eyes linger around the girl’s covered chest before traveling farther down to the exposed legs poking out from the slit of her silk white dress

The girl walked closer towards her, blue eyes trained on the soft and small hands of the girl slowly ghosting over her large and marred ones, dainty fingers going straight for the cigarette dangling inbetween her pointer and middle finger

Vi watched as the girl put the butt of the stolen cigarette to her own lips, her (E/C) never leaving her blue ones as she inhale the nicotine-laced smoke into her lungs, blowing the excess smoke out into the open air between them

“So you gonna keep your promise or what?” The girl said as she looked up to the side, Vi followed the direction she was looking at and to her amusement, they have stopped conveniently just outside a love hotel, Vi let out a humorless chuckle, walking closer to the girl before taking her cigarette back and grasping her chin, pulling her pretty face closer to hers

“You have a weird kink or something? huh? sweet cheeks?” Vi taunted, tapping the flushed cheek her pointer finger was resting on before whispering

"Didn't I tell you? Im a murderer hun"

Y/N took this as a challenge, leaning even closer to the pink haired girl, leaving little to no space between them, lips almost brushing against each other

“Believe me, I’ve stared into the eyes of a murderer...I dont see it in you” she whispered to Vi, making sure to stare directly at whatever soul she has left hiding behind the orbs of her blue eyes

“You're a mystery, a murderer? not quite”

Vi tilted her head to side with a slight shake, she removed her fingers from the girl’s face, large scarred hand grabbing her cold arm to drag the girl with her as she pushed the glass door of the love hotel open

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Vi remembered exactly just how soft and supple her skin was, as she let her hands make contact with her naked breasts, the girl’s hair pulled back and tied together by her hands as she buried her face onto her neck to left her marks again

Y/N moaned as she grasped the pink locks on top of the girl’s hair, who has sunk her face onto her poor neck, her other hand started to wander from the pink haired girl’s shoulders to under her jacket, feeling countless of scars decorating her lean muscled body, slowly getting the girl to remove her bright red clothing

Their silent moans filled the small dimmed room of the love hotel, clothes haphazardly thrown on dirty carpeted floor

Finally that night, Y/N lost herself not to the loud music of the club, but the rustling of bedsheets, her own moans ringing through her own ears, and the lewd sounds from the actions of the girl burying her face between her shaking and quivering legs

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The loud ringing of her ringtone was the one that woke Vi up, disturbing her from her dreamless sleep, she groaned as she threw the covers off of her, exposing her stark naked body, stretching her arms and cracking her neck before walking towards the direction of her pants, the bright screen peeking through the fabric, she looked at the phone before answering

“Ekko?” she whispered, careful not to wake up the girl who was slumbering soundly, occupying the bed that she left

“Where have you been?!” Ekko yelled through the phone, his voice so loud it made Vi pull the phone away from her ears to save herself from a broken eardrum, anymore louder he would've definitely woken up the girl

“Cooling off, I told you that” she hissed on the phone, walking away to put some distance between her and the girl

“Well, enough cooling off, come back, we found something” Ekko said, and that was enough for Vi to swiftly put her clothes back on and left the room

═══════════════════════════

A/N: Thank you for reading the second chapter, I hoped you all like it and it was as good as the first one, and I hope it’s not too confusing, am really sorry if it is, but I promise I’ll try to be better and write a story that’s good to read😊

tbh I dont know if Dom Pérignon is actually THAT expensive, I’ve had it before, and it was expensive for a broke girl like me but it wasn’t that bad since I was able to afford it, so idk if “rich” people will actually LIKE that you know

I feel bad that the reader and Vi’s only interaction so far is just ~devil’s tango~, but I swear I need it for the plot gosh that’s the only thing I say am sorry 😭

I also deleted the links to the song I mentioned in the last chapter cause Kardinal Offishall’s face shows up under the “more posts like this” thingy, and although there’s nothing wrong with that, Im worried people might have a hard time finding the previous chapter if it’s Kardinal Offishall’s face that appears, and I feel like he doesn’t really belong there😭but if you want to look up the song, you just type the song letter by letter as I wrote in the story and you’ll see it! 😊

But thank you for reading and feedbacks are always appreciated! 🤍

-🎶

[hongism]

touch of the devil - k.hongjoong 18+

↣ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader | ao3 version (mxm seongjoong) ↣ genre: angst, fluff if you SQUINT, nsfw, fantasy, supernatural, demon!hongjoong, emo rocker!hongjoong, there do be plot tho. ↣ wc: 9.0k ↣ summary: you came to make a deal with a devil sure, but this is the last thing you were expecting out of a night in a dingy bar. ↣ warnings: explicit smut, mention of death, demons, it’s actually really heavy on plot and angst and less focused on the smut ↣ a/n: again i know it’s my birthday but this is my present to you guys, i am a person who prefers to give rather than receive on my birthday and this was the first thing i wanted to work on during my hiatus!! i’ve got so much inspo and motivation rn that it’s crazy and i can’t wait to have everything all set out for you guys when im back :3

﹊    ﹊    ﹊

Everything about the air around you is heady and thick in a way that chokes you as you step through the fogged bar. This isn’t your sort of scene – not one you would typically find yourself frequenting on a Friday evening without even so much as the company of a friend – and yet here you stand with hands pressed into the pockets of your black leather jacket. There remains a dull thrum in the atmosphere of the club, a steady rhythm of bass and vibrations that makes your ears ring but you do your best to ignore it in favor of reaching the bartender.

“Just a rum and coke please,” you murmur, hand sneaking out of your pocket to lay a few bills flat against the wood counter. You tug your ID card out as well and flash it in the man’s direction when he raises an eyebrow at you, but upon seeing it, he relents and steps away from you to get the drink.

The question remains of why exactly you are in such a dismal and hopeless scene full of people too drunk off their rockers to even fumble around the bar with some sense of dignity. You, who is neither dismal or hopeless yourself nor are you drunk in the slightest (at least not yet).

The answer is simple. This is a breeding ground, a festering cesspool of desires and greed, and it is the prime place to find what you are looking for in terms of deals with the devil. Maybe not one specific devil, but certainly whatever demon you can get your hands on tonight. And you have quite the lot to choose from it seems, because as you glance around the neon-lit building, you can spot many pairs of red eyes glinting under the lights. You know you have no right to be picky — any and all of them will get the job done — but you can’t help but to note that none of them are as appealing as you imagined they would be. When your friend said that these demons thrived off of lust and appeal, you figured that meant they would purposefully up the ante in terms of physical appearances.

The disdain must show on your features as the bartender begins to speak again as he sets your drink down before you on the counter.

“None of them are for you,” he utters, and you twist back to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, chin tilting to the side in question, and the man huffs out a small laugh.

“They have their prey already. Picked ‘em the second they walked through the door. All it takes is one look to figure out what these needy people crave from them, what appearances they need to take, what voices to use, what outfits to wear. For people like you, though, something more is required before the real games begin.” He points a single bony finger at your face, staring you down over the length of his digit like it’s the barrel of a gun, and that has you shifting in your seat a bit.

“Something… more?”

“One must have a particular level of certainty before coming to make a deal with a demon, ma’am. But you — you don’t seem to truly know what it is you want. And for that reason, the King will see you with no ruses or deception.”

On the contrary, I wouldn’t have dared set foot in here if I didn’t know what it is I wanted, you want to say. However, your attention is held rapt by his final sentence, the one that held unspoken promise to it.

“And by that you mean physical alterations?”

“You catch on quickly, Miss.” The man leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip, and you glance over the motion only once before pushing away from the counter. He notes the slight annoyance in your features a moment later. “The King will like you quite a bit.”

“When can I expect for this ‘King’ to present himself?” You prop an elbow up on the counter and give one last forlorn glance around the bar in the hopes that someone will come over your way, but it’s to no avail.

“Patience, human. The show hasn’t even begun yet.” He motions towards the middle of the bar, the starkly empty space with a glossy stage set in the center with only a microphone held delicately in its stand and nothing else. You had been hoping to make this a speedy trip — a quick in and out with your deal made and nothing else — but it seems you won’t be having that luxury. And it is a bit frustrating, honestly, to come to this place with the expectation of having a demon cater to you and your wants only to be told that you aren’t certain enough for these supernatural beings, so you’ll have to wait on a demon who won’t cater to you or come to you immediately.

You take a quick swig of your alcohol with the desperate hope that perhaps drinking will make you more certain of what you want, although you already know it won’t. The bartender offers a shrug in response to your annoyance then pulls away to tend to other customers, and you take it as an invitation to swivel in your stool and face the stage. It’s still fucking empty, but at least it gives you a better view than the old wood of the counter that now sits under your elbows.

“Leave it to men to make me wait on them, demon or not,” you mutter under your breath, breath fogging the side of your glass a bit.

You nearly choke on the liquid inside in your next breath because the swirling red neon lights come to a halt on the center of the stage, and the suddenness of the shifting lights startles you so much that you have to sit up straight and inhale deeply to keep from coughing on the alcohol in your mouth. The hazed mist hovering above the floor of the bar seems to swirl towards the stage under the beams of light. You watch the movements as though in a trance, slowly leaning forward until your elbows come to rest on your knees. Out of everyone in the bar, you seem to be the only one interested in what’s going on at the center of the room. Mind you, everyone else is preoccupied: demons with their humans, and humans with the mask-wearing demons who cater to their desires. And while you have no reason to be so intrigued by the scene before you, you truly cannot bring yourself to look away, especially as the dull thrum of music in the bar heightens and gains momentum.

There is no way of describing the sounds rumbling around you. Perhaps if you were fully in your senses, you would be able to distinguish the instruments and beats of the song, but the bass clogs your mind and leaves you squinting at the hazy stage. It could be poetic, the way a lone figure pushes his way through the crowds of the bar like he holds all the power in the universe, studded black leather jacket slung around his shoulders. And as the red lights come over him, you can see his features better. Dusty brown hair that shines a bit, one side exposed and cut shorter than the other, which has bangs that hang loose over the side of his face. Metal bars line both ears, another near the end of his left brow, and a final more intricate one that loops around the middle of his lip and connects to two long metal chains. You follow the path of those chains with your eyes, watching them trail downwards until they loop around his chest and disappear behind his jacket. It’s just a black turtleneck that he wears underneath the dramatic leather regalia and chains but somehow he makes the garment look expensive. You dare glance a bit lower, just enough to make out the frayed and distressed jeans that cling to his skin like a vice, leaving hints of enticing skin underneath to peek through. You can’t see his feet thanks to the fog, but you can practically hear his footsteps drumming in your ears with the rise and fall of his shoes.

Simply put, you are entranced by the sight of this man — if he can even be called that, because you wouldn’t find yourself at all surprised should he reveal himself to be a demon on the tail end of this encounter. He barely looks up from the floor on his trek to the stage, only stopping when he comes before the mic stand and exhales against it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s hardly reasonable for any creature to hold your attention in the palm of his hand the way this one does, but there is no chance of you looking away now, especially as his voice begins to drawl through the microphone and coat your ears like honey. There are words, you recognize enough in the music to know that it should be a song you’re familiar with, but none of them truly process in your daze.

It’s all you can do to just sit there and watch his performance. Between the gentle sways of his shoulders and hips, the teasing drag of his tongue over his lower lip whenever there is a break in his lyrics, and the overall intoxicating nature his aura exudes, you are hooked on every breath he takes. You don’t realize how relaxed your body has become under his spell until it’s too late, and that happens to be the last note of the song as well. It is accentuated with the drop of the glass in your hand and a sharp shatter of the cup against the floor. And just as you inhale a startled gasp and break out of your reverie, his deep crimson eyes flicker over to find yours across the bar. Those twisting lips churn something ugly in your gut. You can’t find the strength in your body to move.

“Mine.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as the word leaves his lips, and while you can’t hear it grate against your ears, you can clearly read his lips enough to know what he’s saying.

His eyes glint a bit in the darkness. It shouldn’t leave you wanting more, but that bitter taste of curiosity is nipping at the back of your throat, and you are far too intrigued to turn back now. You just want more. If he seems to understand that at all from the gleam in your eyes, he makes good on it, stepping off the stage and letting his hand drag over the mic in a way that is almost tantalizing. Step after step, he comes closer to you with his lips still curled into a smirk, and the way the lights hit him makes him seem to glisten and glow in the darkness. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until he breaches your personal space and you release a shaky exhale that seems to fog in the air between you. He stretches a hand out to close the space between your bodies and curls his index finger under your chin. The touch is simultaneously hot and cold — your whole body seems to light on fire under it, yet at the same time, the chill in your bones deepens to an alarming degree.

“What is it you desire above all other things?” You can hear him now, loud and clear, and whilst you heard his singing beforehand, the simple rasp and lilt to his regular tone is something that has you unashamedly weak in the knees. “I can give you everything,” he whispers as he presses closer to you. Your knees brush against his form but he keeps on pushing forward until he’s slotted himself between them. The chain hanging from his lips rattles like a chime, singing its unknown song like church bells in the night, although you are far from God and heaven now. “All you need to do is ask.”

You cling to some semblance of reason while you can, knowing full well that it will all leave you soon enough, but for now, it lets you choke out a single statement that has the demon before you laughing under his breath.

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who are you to tell me how it works?” His finger curls a bit harder at your chin, and you can feel the blunt of his nail scraping over your skin. Your eyes are glued to his, so enamored and consumed that you can’t even think to look anywhere else.

In that moment, it is as though the universe is nothing but a speck of dust in the corner of your vision. Something so raw and whole like the man standing before you is all-powerful and vigilant in a way that has every nerve in your body at full attention, ready for whatever his next step might be. And that turns out to be quite the curveball as it seems because he leans closer to you, breath intermingling with yours, and you subconsciously curve your back into his touch to reach him closer. Still, even though you physically show how ready and desperate for the touch you are, he waits and glances over your features.

“What is it you desire from me, human?”

You have to vehemently restrain yourself from simply saying ‘you’ and getting on with it.

“Your name.”

“Is that all you would have from me?” As a demon, it is his life’s work to know the inner-workings of the festering desires of humans. You have no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what is it you want, even if you are not sure of it yourself, and you do not doubt that he won’t use that to his advantage either. But that’s what you asked for in coming here, and that is exactly what you both expected and wanted out of this.

Perhaps it is shameful, but just for once, you wanted to surrender control. Too often are you asked to have everything set out and planned and under control, and too often do you find yourself wanting someone to just tell you what it is you should do. That could be why the bartender labeled you as ‘uncertain’ because even in this moment of vulnerability, there is still the thinnest thread of thought tethering you to that control. And as of now, you want nothing more than for this demon before you to break that thread.

“I would have your name before I asked for anything else from you. Calling you demon over and over would certainly wear out its welcome, no?”

“That all depends on the context, my dear. But… you can call me Hongjoong, if that’s suitable to your tongue.”

“Hongjoong,” you try, testing the way the name rolls off your tongue in such a delicate manner that the demon before you flutters his lashes a bit.

“Sounds so pretty coming from lips so innocent.” He tilts his head to the side, and the movement flashes the pretty expanse of skin below his jaw. You aren’t shy in the way you let your gaze slip over it before trailing back up to meet his eyes again. “Would you close your eyes for me, doll?” He doesn’t have to ask. He could just make you do so with no resistance but still, he asks as though you could say no if you wanted to. You don’t though, and as such, your eyelids fall shut and your vision turns to black for the time being. “Do you know who I am?”

“Th-The bartender called you the King.”

“And do you understand what that means? Truly understand with every fiber of your being?” The question is heavy on your bones, and it is one that you feel like you should know the answer to yet you can’t find any response to his inquiry. Perhaps he means to confuse you because you hear the soft huff of a laugh fall from his lips. “King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead. Some would call me Pluto, others Hades, it varies from religion to religion and in every culture. Sometimes I pick up rather banal and common names, other times I find myself seeking something extravagant and luxurious. Now… Hongjoong will be a good middle-ground for us.”

You should be falling to the floor in absolute shock due to his words, but the steady finger under your chin keeps you steady. That and the growing fear in your gut as you come to realize that this man holds so much power in just his pinky finger and could absolutely crush you under his heel whenever he wishes. What are you to a god besides an insignificant fleck of dust on the pavement?

“And what of your appearance? Is that… manifested as well?” You dare to ask.

“I have many faces, yes, but this one is one I wear boldly and frequently. You could say it is my natural form. After so many millennia of fantastical myths and legends, however, I’m sure that would seem odd to you.”

“Are you truly a demon then?”

“King of demons, yes. Whether I am truly a demon myself is something that could be ambiguous, I suppose, but if they are all part of my creations, then would that not make me one myself? Though you could say they are all fragments of my own being, making them all mythical gods. It’s all a matter of perspective; however, I doubt that you came searching this place for a lesson on perspectives.”

“No, I came for…” You trail off, and that blossoming uncertainty from before presents itself again.

“There are two things your heart wants right now. One, I can give you with ease and grace, only if you would allow it. That desire is a fleeting one, however, and I do not think it is what you are truly after in being here. The second… that is a wish I cannot deliver, and I think you are more than aware of that. The reason everyone left you to me is because of what you want. It is a domain only I could ever touch.”

You blink your eyes open in haste, searching his deep crimson gaze for some sort of confirmation of the words. The demon dares to look forlorn and lets his stare drop to the floor rather than looking you directly in the eye. Confusion blossoms in your gut. Yes, you figured there was a slim chance that your wish could not be granted, but still you clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was just a small window of opportunity for such a wish to be granted.

“Death is irreversible,” the demon, Hongjoong as he wishes to be called, says in a quiet tone. “I cannot give that which you want more than anything else.”

“Then what can you give?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible to keep your emotions from slipping out the corners.

“One of two things: I can give you time to speak with him once more or I can make you forget the pain.”

“And if I choose the latter?”

“It would make you forget everything about him and leave you with no memory of him at all.” Hongjoong exhales a small sigh, the bouncing rhythms of the bass rumbling against your ears along with the sounds of his breaths. “You need not decide right this instant. The payment will be the same either way, so we can settle that first if you’d like.”

“W-Wait,” you stammer. You dare to open your eyes once more. “How would I be able to speak to him if you can’t bring him back?”

“I cannot bring him back the way you want. He… he is gone, and though I am the King of the Dead, there are powers even I do not have. Bringing him back to life is impossible, but I can create a doorway for the two of you to speak through for a short period of time. I have no control over how long it would be, just a forewarning. That is all up to him and his willingness to see you.”

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to see me,” you murmur, but the pang in your chest tells you otherwise.

“Sometimes, death and the underworld change fundamental parts of people. They are no longer alive, after all, and as such, those human vices and personality traits dissipate. How you knew him in life could be vastly different than the spirit who now resides in my domain. It is all a matter of weighing risks, my dear. What matters most to you? Remembering him or him remembering you?”

“So if I ask to see him, I would remember him but there’s a chance that he would have no recollection of me? And should I ask to forget, there will be no way of knowing whether he remembers me in the afterlife or not?”

“Precisely.”

That is a hefty bargain to weigh. It is almost too much for your shoulders just to think about it. One is starkly more selfish than the other, but if he’s dead, what good will selflessness do you? It won’t bring him back, that’s for sure. Either you are left with the painful realization that he does not have any memory of you in the afterlife, or you forget it all to avoid that pain. Maybe thinking about the payment before deciding would be a good idea after all.

“As for the payment? How many years do I owe you?” Demons have no use for human currency or trinkets that could be traded for favors. You can barter the only thing you have — years of life. Whether it shortens your lifespan or turns you into a personal slave for a certain amount of time, that is a price you must be willing to pay for such services. You are more than prepared to barter it all off right now if need be.

“None,” Hongjoong answers coolly, and you quirk a brow upwards at the nonchalance in his tone. “I do not deal in years of life. Not often, at least. My abilities are bound in… passion. Lovemaking, fornication, sex, fucking – whatever you wish to call it. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be that exactly, should you not desire that. The other option is a blood pact, a ritual that would take hours to complete, although both could take quite some time depending on your stamina.” There’s a breath of silence that allows Hongjoong’s lips to twist into a suggestive grin, and heat brushes the base of your neck as you fight off waves of embarrassment. “I cannot guarantee that the blood pact would be painless. With sex, I could at least provide some comfort that the pain would only be temporary; however, the choice is yours. Both are binding and would mean that you could never make a deal with another demon again, and you would be marked as mine for eternity.”

“What does being yours entail?”

“Nothing diabolical or unsavory, I promise. Just… when the time comes for you to pass on and join the Underworld, you would take a place at my side.”

“How many people have you laid claim to? Did they all agree to the same terms? How can I trust your word?” The questions tumble from your lips without relent.

“For what you desire, the cost is far less than what I would usually ask for. Those lucky enough to deal with me in the past paid less for their debts. The blood pact… the fornication… both are binding elements. The real cost is your service. Most have agreed to give me their servitude in the afterlife, all with their own places in my domain. That is what you would be offering as well. You will live just as long as you would without making this deal but make up for it after your death.”

“And that’s it?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle a bit under the lights above your heads.

“What did you expect from me, doll? Savagery? Unfairness? Everyone deserves a fair price for what they want, regardless of station in life or status in society.”

“Deal,” you utter without any more hesitation, blinking up into Hongjoong’s dark orbs. There lies a lingering sense of regret in your gut, one that you cannot chase away no matter how hard you try, but you do not need to dwell on it any longer.

“And how would you like to bind our deal, my dear? Neither can be handled immediately. The blood pact requires special preparations for the ritual, but the other — I would not have you in such a place as dirty as this.”

“I-I, um, sex will work just fine,” you bite out, the skin of your cheek caught between your teeth.

“Then when the time comes that you are ready with your decision on what it is you truly want, all you need to do is take this—” Hongjoong retracts his hand from where it rests gently against the column of your throat and digs into one of his pockets. He pulls out a gilded card, one that is black and gold with flecks of red across the surface, but there are no other adornments to the material. “Tear it in half and it will bring you to our meeting place, and I will join you there to seal the deal. Should you decide that you do not want this after all, then all you need to do is burn the card. The decision lies in your hands, and yours alone.” He has to lift one of your limp hands and forcefully place the card into your waiting palm, closing his fingers around yours to make you cling to the item.

“I – th-thank you,” you stammer as you blink from your closed hand to Hongjoong’s features.

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

Those are the last words you hear from the demon before he slips away from you, the dense fog lingering in the air swirling up around his body, and within moments, his shadowy form disappears entirely from sight. The air grows cold around you once more. You are left with only the fleeting desire for that warmth to return, for you to feel less alone than you are in that moment, and even if it’s the briefest visit ever you just want one last chance to tell your lost lover how you feel without mistakes this time.

///

The night, as per usual, is cold and unforgiving. It allows for too many opportunities to be alone with lost feelings and thoughts. It has been weeks (if not months) since you visited that dingy club and your fateful meeting with none other than the King of the Dead. Yet you are still here, wallowing in the memories that you’ve been left to suffer with alone, and the gilded black card sits in your nightstand untouched. You open the drawer just to stare at it from time to time, when the nights are particularly rough, and it already had begun collecting a thin layer of dust the last few times you looked at it.

It isn’t that you haven’t made your decision about what you want from your deal with Hongjoong. The more terrifying fact is that you are fully aware of what it is you want, and you simply cannot rectify the guilt that comes along with the pure selfishness of your decision. The feeling is so potent that it swarms your every thought. You know it wouldn’t be an issue once you meet with Hongjoong; the demon will take it all away and leave you with nothing. You won’t even know enough to be guilty any longer, but the pain of committing to the decision is strong enough to make you sick to your stomach.

Wooyoung — the one who suggested you go to the club and make the deal in the first place — will not shut up about how worried he is about you. You won’t recall the deal or why you made it, so what’s holding you back? A temporary guilt that won’t exist longer than a few seconds once you’re actually in Hongjoong’s presence? As he said, you just need to swallow the feeling and get on with it. Prolonging the regrets any longer won’t do you any good.

You huff out a quiet laugh in the silence of your darkened room. The black gilded card taunts you again now, gleaming up at you through the shadows with its faint hints of gold and red. Maybe Wooyoung is right and the only way to get rid of missed opportunities is to forget about them entirely. Yeosang was but a chapter in your life, one that is past and gone now, and as Hongjoong said, there is no reversing death. Seeing him one last time won’t give you anything but pain.

You stretch a shaky hand towards the card in the drawer. It’s cold to the touch, dust billowing up with even the slightest touch of your fingers. You have to dig your nail under the material to pull it up, and once it’s safely set in your palm, you drag your thumb over the surface to brush the dirt away. No words on the surface, no sign that it has been touched by a demon, and not even a hint as to what it could possibly be for.

It is surprisingly flexible, at least moreso than you would have imagined, and you give it a few testing bends to see how easy it would be to break. Hongjoong simply gave you the instruction to tear it in half and that was all. You don’t expect him to suddenly materialize before you on a whim, but surely such a creation is bound by some sort of magic on his part. It is hard enough to believe that demons are real living creatures, but magic as well? Maybe you’ve passed on and just don’t realize it yet. Still, you exhale one last huff of air into the darkness before letting your eyes flutter shut. Taking the card between your hands, you begin to slowly rip the material until it separates with the force, torn in two mismatched pieces.

Nothing fantastical happens.

That fact alone is so overwhelmingly disappointing that you really think for a moment that Hongjoong was just some goth rocker in a stoner bar who pulled an elaborate trick on you. It can’t be too difficult to get your hands on some weird red-toned contacts and weave some elaborate story about being the King of Hell. You could do that yourself. Why did you think he was incapable of such a charade?

Because he knew what you wanted without you having to say it.

Yes, well, Wooyoung claimed that your regrets and grief were evident in your features every time he looked at you. Maybe Hongjoong could see it as well.

You fall back onto your bed, flattening your back against the mattress with a small shout of frustration. The urge to cry is strong; if you’ve spent all these weeks uselessly worrying over something that could all be a farce, you don’t even know how you would react. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, blinking away the tears that blossom in the corners there as best you can. The rolling emotions in your system distract you from the sudden shift in temperature, and before you know it heat washes over you and fills the void of cold in your body. You jerk but refuse to sit up quite yet, eyes flying open in your shock only to choke on air as a bright golden light fills your vision and swarms you with warmth. The cushion under your body doesn’t feel the same either; it is not your bed, it’s too plush and soft, too warm under you, and you feel like you are absolutely drowning in the sensation.

Gold flickers above you, twinkling lights that glisten like small stars above you, and the ceiling is so dark that you nearly think it’s just an opening to the night sky. You sit up in a mad panic. The gold and red decorations littering the far too lavish room barely process in your vision as you look for a way out, and you don’t even see the figure coming up along your side until he’s upon you. A hand stretches out to brush over your forehead. You nearly shriek in your state of terror, but the sound is all but stolen from your lungs instead.

“It’s only me, doll. You’re safe.”

Hongjoong. Ah, Hongjoong. Then… he was telling the truth. It wasn’t a farce or a deception meant to be a game. He claimed to be the Devil Incarnate, and here he stands before you in a room too rich and exquisite for words. You can’t find it in you to think he’s lying now.

You dare to glance up and meet his gaze, finding it so soft on your face that you have the audacity to blush under his stare despite the things you’ll be doing with him soon enough.

“Have you made your decision then?” He asks, tone soft and light. It isn’t one that demands an immediate answer. You know he could ask what took you so long to decide, complain about your hesitance, say that you kept him waiting for far too long — instead, he exudes patience with you, hand slowly combing over your forehead down to your cheek and brushing over the skin there with a touch so featherlight that you almost don’t realize it’s there at all.

“I-I have,” you whisper like the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room and it’s a secret meant only for your ears.

“What would you have from me first then? As I told you before, the payment is the same regardless of your decision, and as such, we can bind the deal first if you’d rather.”

You swallow around nothing. There is no harm in going through with the decision now, but your nerves are so frazzled and out of sorts that you almost desire the sex simply as a means of stress relief. Hongjoong steps in front of you, fully coming into view, and you are shocked at how… mundane he looks. You blink fervently at the man — demon, rather — and take in the gentle part of his hair, the soft glow of his skin that makes him look simply ethereal under this light. He hardly looks like a demon to you; his features are too smooth and perfect for that, from the curves of his lips to the even line of his nose. Although you suppose that’s all he wants you to see, yet it still seems oddly intimate to a certain degree.

“You aren’t worried that I’ll try to run away after my wish is fulfilled?” You ask. Hongjoong arches his brows at you, and his neutral expression slips into one of momentary shock.

“Where are you going to go, my dear? I brought you to this place, and you will need me to send you back once we’re done here.”

It sinks in at that moment how you are completely at his mercy right now. Not that you had any plans of running away, but the question was moreso just to test the waters, see if he is truly as merciful as his features make him out to be. The underlying danger in his tone proves your point and sends a chill down your spine.

“Is that something I ought to be worried about, doll? Should I claim you now to make sure you keep your end of the bargain?” The question sits on your ear like warm honey. It chokes you, fills your senses with Hongjoong’s scent, and you almost find yourself leaning into his curling lips before catching yourself. That seems to pique his interest in the very least, and his smile twists a bit more. “The decision is in your hands as always. I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to do.”

“Permission granted,” you mutter before catching a hand on Hongjoong’s collar. “Do it all.” You aren’t too worried about damaging his clothes as he’s not wearing anything drastically fancy or expensive-looking, and thus you twist your fist into a ball around the fabric of his black tee and yank him down to your height. He bends at the waist, hands catching on the mattress before his forehead can smack hard against yours. There’s a bit of tension in his neck, and that keeps him far enough back so that he doesn’t kiss you quite yet. It’s almost as though he is waiting for something else, eyes carefully tracing your features with great care before he settles on your lips, and a sharp inhale of breath follows before that thin line in his composure snaps.

His lips hit yours with a surprising amount of force, and the kiss isn’t at all what you were expecting — well, to be more accurate, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting in the first place. It’s much more pleasant than you could have imagined though, and Hongjoong isn’t shy with the touch at all. His tongue is quick to swipe over your lower lip, hands darting upwards to brush over your sides before reaching your face, and he brings a knee down on the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you. You follow the motion when he pushes forward and lean back until you have no choice but to scoot back on the bed. Hongjoong moves with you with the same amount of fervor, still pressed to your lips without relent, and you don’t even think to stop as he completely drapes himself over your body, knees still up and supporting his weight. The cushion of the mattress dips by your head, a telltale sign that he’s placed his hands there, and you use that as your opportunity to stop for air. Hongjoong surely has no need to breathe like you do since he is undead, but he still pants above you, chest heaving as a pretty flush rises to his cheeks.

“Putting that much power in a demon’s hands is dangerous, is it not?” He mutters. You let your lashes flutter shut as he moves back to your lips, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t like,” you murmur, opening an eye to peek at him. He meets your gaze with a soft laugh, but your answer seems to please him enough to bring his attention back to your lips. You inhale as his tongue breaches your mouth and pushes into the wet cavern inside. There’s no chance for you to fight back for any sort of dominance because he only thrusts deeper and coats the inside of your mouth with his taste until you can feel his tongue brushing over your palate. A quiet moan reverberates through your throat and against his lips. You feel the barest hint of a smile in the kiss, then his lips are suddenly gone from yours. You gasp for air with the freedom. Heat pools in the depths of your gut, a pleasant one that leaves you wanting more, and you aren’t sure if it’s simply been so long since you last had sex or if Hongjoong truly has that effect on you.

He returns to touching your body a moment later, hands trailing to the row of buttons on your nightshirt, and one by one, he pulls them apart until the material is barely clinging to your skin. His lips replace his fingers then. First at your jaw placing a wet trail of kisses and soft nips that leave you with goosebumps. Then he reaches the midpoint of your sternum and rests the flat of his tongue there, tasting and teasing your skin until you can do nothing but writhe under him because he is taking so damn long. Your impatience is laughable to him, as evidenced by the quiet huff of air that leaves him next.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he mumbles against the skin of your stomach, hands pulling your nightshirt away to expose more of the skin underneath. He makes good on his words, and that damn tongue traces lower and lower until he reaches the band of your pants and underwear. You instinctively dart a hand down to tangle in his hair. “F-Fuck.” The curse slips out when you give an accidental tug to the hair close to his nape, and you nearly think that you’ve hurt him in some manner until you catch sight of the blissed-out expression on his features.

“D-Do you — can I…?”

“Do it harder while I eat you out,” he growls. His fingers close hard around the remainders of your close, and you don’t even have time to nod before he’s yanking both your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. It leaves you more than a little exposed — you’re suddenly nearly nude before the demon who is still fully clothed, and that realization draws your thighs tight together in a sudden rush of embarrassment. You swallow hard around nothing, eyes darting away from Hongjoong’s prying gaze.

All of a sudden, he shrugs your hand off his hair and sits back on his heels. You don’t understand what his reasoning is until you settle your eyes back on his body. He’s leaned back to start stripping layers of clothes off in a rush, hands fumbling and struggling to pull them away in an orderly manner. There is no composure to his actions, only a hastened fervor that has him tossing his shoes far from the bed along with random articles of clothes until he’s laid fully bare before you. You really try your hardest not to glance down at his… you know, but the urge is overwhelming. Before you can even catch a glimpse, however, Hongjoong is on you again, hands latched around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he kneels before you on the floor. The sudden movement has you squealing in surprise, and that noise is broken off into a startled moan when Hongjoong’s lips brush through your folds without warning.

“O-Oh god,” you gasp out. Hongjoong’s tongue gives a long and dragging pull through your heat, teasing some of the juices out of you with little restraint.

“Far from it actually,” he replies against your clit. A cheeky grin eats away at his features, but it quickly disappears as he returns his focus to your cunt. Your hand finds its way back down to his hair once more and tugs hard at the strands. Each tweak of his tongue through your folds has your legs jerking a bit, and he has to tighten his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving so much under his touch.

“I’m not — I w-won’t last, pl-please, I–” You can’t even finish the sentence as Hongjoong flicks the tip of his tongue right over your clit and cuts you off. He repeats that same motion, again and again, brings you right to the precipice of an orgasm only to tear you back down from it with soft kisses pressed to the outside of your folds. You can’t keep track of how many times he repeats that process, but it is more than enough to have you shaking from exhaustion and desperation even though you haven’t even been able to come yet.

“Are you going to beg for it, doll?” Hongjoong hums after what feels like hours of pleasurable torture. “I promised to make you feel good, did I not? You just have to tell me what you want.” His words are so taunting that it burns you with embarrassment. The need for that orgasm hangs on every nerve ending of your body, and you could cry just out of the need to come.

“Please,” you whisper in a tone broken from constant moans and cries.

“Be more specific.” It’s so cruel. He dangles the promise of pleasure before your eyes again, this time nipping ever so gently at your bud, and you really do cry this time, fingers digging harshly on his scalp. That draws a prolonged growl from his lips, and it reverberates against you so nicely that you could come from that. Hongjoong pulls his head back too soon though and the sensation is dashed away.

“N-No, no, please. P-Please, Hongjoong, I — please let me come. I need it, I need it so badly. Shit, just – just please let me come,” you wail as tears slip out the corners of your eyes and spill onto the sheets under you. That’s the breaking point for him as well, or so it would seem, because the next time his mouth brushes through your cunt, he doesn’t relent. You come undone on his tongue, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm as he fucks his wet muscle into your heat. He won’t stop chuckling either — a low noise that just prolongs the pleasure and makes you quiver from overstimulation. He doesn’t let up until a dry and choked sob pushes past your lips.

Suddenly he is back up on the bed, bent over your body to be eye to eye with you. His fingers trace over your wet cheeks then clasp hard around your jaw.

“Too much?”

“N-No,” you stammer through the wet cries. “So good. So so good.”

“Mm, can you take my cock too, doll?” He all but purrs the words against your skin. His soft and trailing kisses return to your skin, peppering the line of your jaw just past his fingers.

“Yes, please, I c-can. Please. I want i-it all.” You never thought you could sound so overwhelmingly desperate, but the tumbling sensation that swerves through your stomach as Hongjoong’s demeanor shifts has you falling into absolute shambles. He shifts your position, pushing you up higher to rest against the pillows, and you start to drape your legs around his waist. That must not be the position he had in mind though, because his hand clamps down hard on one of your calves and pushes it to the top of his shoulder. Before you can even blink, he does the same with your other leg, effectively folding you in half and into a position you weren’t even aware that your body was capable of. That shock is momentary as you feel the tip of what must his cock rubbing over your pulsating hole. You can’t do anything but ball your fists around the sheets under you and cling to them like a vice. It’s the only thing that can prepare you for his girth; the stretch may not be as much as you thought it would be, but it still stings like a bitch even after he bottoms out in you. That pain must be showing on your features – in the way your brows are tightly knit together and your eyes are screwed shut so that excess tears from earlier slip out.

The soft caress of lips touches your forehead. It’s so gentle and delicate that you nearly miss it in your efforts to grow used to the sensation between your legs, but Hongjoong repeats it time and time again until your breathing steadies and your chest stops heaving as much. It’s only then that he dares to resituate his hips. You crack an eye open to look at him, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s trying his hardest to hold back and keep from fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“I’m okay now,” you whisper, pulling a hand off the bedsheets to brush some loose strands of hair out of Hongjoong’s vision. “Please fuck me as hard as you’d like.” You snake the same hand around the back of his neck. When he still doesn’t move, you offer a sharp tug to the hair that falls over his sweat-slick nape, and that spurs him into action. His hips snap roughly against yours, pushing your back further into the crude curve it’s already in. Now that the dull throbbing pain has dissolved into a sensation of pleasure, you drown yourself in the drag of his member inside you. It’s quite possibly the best feeling you’ve had all night with the way his tip rubs over your bundle of nerves at just the right angle.

Hongjoong drops his elbows to the pillow under your head, and you greet him with a kiss that is mostly just an awkward clash of teeth for the most part. He gains enough composure to shift the angle to one that’s easier for both of you, hips still working hard as he rocks into you with the same force and speed as before. You are so lost in the euphoria that you can’t even feel your next orgasm sneaking up on you, but when it does, it pulls a noiseless scream from your lips. Hongjoong mouths at the corner of your lips as you ride it out. He still seems far off from his own high, even as he slows the pulses of his thrusts. You claw your way back from the high of your orgasm to grip his hair tighter and pull him closer to you.

“In me. I need you to come in me or not at all,” you demand through a huffed out sigh. It’s a moment of throwing caution to the wind, one that is quite worth it thanks to the expression of hunger and lust that fills Hongjoong’s face.

“You can’t just say things like that, doll,” he growls into the shell of your ear. You try to laugh but he interrupts you with a thrust harsher than any of the ones before. Every sound that falls from your lips now is stuttered and broken at the seams, and you let him fuck you with that same level of passion until he finally seems to tire and lose his rhythm. The only warning you have that he’s about to orgasm is the slight whine to his tone when he moans next. You push what strength you have left into clenching hard around his cock, and that is ultimately what tips him over the edge and pulls a delightful moan from his lips as he spills into your tight heat. He releases his hold on your legs, letting them slip away from his shoulders and back into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he refuses to move off your body.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like that: with Hongjoong continually mouthing small kisses to the underside of your jaw and you just staring blankly at the glittering ceiling with a mind nearly empty. However much time passes doesn’t quite matter because once you recover your senses enough to be coherent again, you recall what is supposed to come next. Shaky hands find their way to Hongjoong’s arms and trail up to rest atop his back.

“Take it all away,” you exhale through a pant, hands clinging desperately to the milky skin of Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I don’t want to remember him anymore.” His chest heaves against yours, and a few loose strands of dark hair fall forward to stick to his sweat-slick forehead. This time when he kisses you, it is hot and searing, a brand against your lips, one that burns the inside of your mouth and sets your tongue alight. The sensation slips down the back of your throat, fills your gut, burns you from the inside out, and all your thoughts go hazy under the touch of his lips. With that one kiss, Hongjoong takes it all away. He gives into your desires, heeds your wishes, and grants you the ultimate peace and serenity you so deeply craved. He continues to cling to you like he’s never held something so desperately or lost in his infinite existence. You return the embrace in full while you can, strength already leaving you in the afterglow of your fornication, and you rake your nails down over his back if only to leave him with some sort of trophy to leave with. He is already leaving with your memories though, a trophy to hold close to his heart should there ever be a time when you ask for them to be returned to you. Perhaps in your afterlife, you’ll ask for them back, and Hongjoong would gladly give them should it be what you desire.

That is what he is, after all. As much as he takes, the Demon King of the Underworld gives in return, where he can with what he can. His duty, his bond, the sole purpose for his existence is to maintain that balance between giving and taking. But if it’s for you — a creature so lost, dismal, and hopeless — perhaps he can tip the scales a bit further in your direction.

At least, that’s what he thinks as you curve your body into his and press your lips with more fervor than before. That maybe, just maybe, endless years of his own hopelessness and confusion were all meant to lead him to finding this: a purpose in his undying life.

﹎    ﹎    ﹎

[yoonpobs]

hello 😊

may I request a drabble with jungkook and seokjin and reader with some angst and a bit of smut.. seokjin is her boyfriend and jungkook is jin's best friend and also a close friend of hers his also in love with her and he doesn't hid the fact that he has feelings for her so when y/n and seokjin get into a fight he seeing it as an opportunity to finally see if she wants to be with him

I hope that makes sense

thank you ❤️

pairing: fwb!seokjin x oc, roommate!jungkook x oc

genre: smut, angst

warnings: toxic/unhealthy fwb relationships, jin is a douche, jk is mean, oc needs a break

words: 2, 775

note: WHY DO I ALWAYS GIVE MY OCS A HARD TIME IM SORRY & i took a bit of a turn w this request so i apologise for any inaccuracies 😢

There is a way that Seokjin treats you in bed that makes you feel whole yet like you’re losing bits and pieces of yourself to him every time. He’s never selfish—God no. He was generous to you, much more generous than real lovers you had in the past that you shared kisses that were full of passion between the sheets. The passion you felt with Seokjin was undeniable and almost painful. You hated the word almost, it was like wasted potential on a possibility that could’ve come true but fell too short to be real. And every time you thought of that word you thought of Seokjin.

He was there. He always was. That was the conflicting part. Between always and almost, he was always with you but never almost in love with you the way you were with him. It was pathetic, really. How a woman held such high regard for turned into someone unrecognisable between the sheets and a few kisses from a man who didn’t even love her back. You swore to yourself you’d never let this happen. But here it was—happening.

He fucks into you at a brutal pace that could almost cloud your stressful thoughts. He never misses, his hips angled upwards to hit you in places that only lovers should feel. You moan, scream and cry—for reasons more than how good he makes you feel.

“Ffffffuck, J-Jin!” Your head is pressed against the mattress but you can still see your delirious expression through the mirror in front of your bed. He looks angelic with the way his forehead scrunches in utmost concentration in making you feel good, but the way he snaps his hips harder into your own was demonic. He usually left bruises and it felt nice to have the remainder of what he did to you—but stung at the same time with the way that he marked you as if you were his.

You weren’t.

“Like that, angel?” He leans down to whisper against your cheek and all you can muster is the blubber of a response.

The grip on your hips is rough, but you like it that way. He slips a hand in between your spread legs and rubs your clit in figure-eights that has you whining at a decibel louder than the ones before. Jin notices this and starts fucking into you faster if that was even humanely possible.

“Look at you—so fucked out. You’re mine to ruin, right?”  He taunts you, dragging a hand up your body with the wetness as the answer to his question. He tugs on your chin to direct your face to look at your reflection clearly, and you see your lips swollen, eyes blown out and hair tousled.

“Y-Yes—fuck—yours, J-Jin!” You’re panting, and you feel your coil unravel at a rapid pace, and Jin groans from behind you when he feels your cunt spasm around his cock ferociously.

“If you’re mine then don’t cum just yet,” He sounds too collected for a man who’s been fucking his cock deep into you for the past hour, but you could never read Seokjin. Even when you had his dick all the way down your throat, the most you’d get is a groan—and that was more than you could ever muster up from him.

“Jin—Jin—p-ple-please! I need to—ah—cum—!” Your words were cut short when he reached his hand around your throat to squeeze it softly. But you moan louder, and your pussy responds by getting tighter around his cock.

He chuckles in a low timbre from behind you, hips slightly stuttering—and you know this is a sign of his release coming soon—and you push your hips back to meet his pace, causing him to hiss at the sudden action.

Jin stares at you from the mirror for the night, and you release he always has a similar expression when he’s approaching his high. Something cold, detached yet melancholic. You could never read him enough, because by the time you think you’ve got an answer—he demands.

“Cum.”

And you do. Hard. Spots of white taint your vision like an angel trying to cleanse you from your sins. But the way you blackout for a second shows you no mercy and reminds you that Jin was the devil and you were his plaything.

“Ffffffff—” You can barely breathe. But it’s a pleasurable feeling—the only thing suffocating is the aftermath. When he leaves, barely sparing you another glance.

And you feel him cum with you, deep spurts of white painting your pussy as you feel full of him. Like he’s here to stay. He pushes you back onto him and revels in your limp body. You allow him.

When he pulls out, you’re exhausted. And you can tell he is, too. He’s heaving, and he helps you onto your back by placing a pillow under your back and head. He’s caring, but only out of decency, not commitment. You’re tired too, but it’s the type of tired that settles into your bones. The tired you only feel after sex with Seokjin because you know you’re sleeping alone.

He’s meticulous and quick, just like he always is. It’s the same routine that you’re unfortunately intimate with. He searches for his pants, slips on his shirt and grabs his keys and wallet. They’re always on your desk; never anywhere else because that implies that the routine was breaking. Jin would never break that—not with you, at least.

“Won’t you stay?”

Your voice is soft as it breaks through the atmosphere. You seem to catch him off guard for a moment but he’s tedious at not showing anything more than he needs to. He casts you a glance over his shoulders and you feel oddly vulnerable with your naked body, a blanket draped over your curves in a way that should be enticing. But you knew it wasn’t—because he only wanted you in the heat of the moment and every second after that is a reminder of who you were.

“Since when did we do that?” He snorts, quickly carding a hand through his hair while he checks his appearance.

And as always, he looks kept together while you were left ruined at the expense of his hands.

“We don’t,” you say softly, “I just thought …” your voice wavers when he raises a brow at you, causing you to hesitate in your words but you’re oddly determined today. Maybe you’re tired of the heartache, “It’s late.”

He looks at you for a long second before rolling his eyes and stalking you. Your heart clenches in expectation, but all Jin does is reach a hand around your chin when he leans down to bring your face inches away from his. Your eyes are hopeful when you look into his. The gentle orbs that peer back could fool anyone into thinking that he was tender and loving—but you’ve never seen that side of him. You only saw him when he was overtaken by desire, hard and tall when he fucks into you like a rag doll while he smirks at your slacked body.

“That’s cute,” he grins widely as your breath hitches, “But that’s not what we do, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment is anything but endearing. It’s mocking and it hurts.

“I …” You croak.

Then he releases you, finger lightly pushing your chin so that you’d fall back onto your palms. He checks his phone with a casual grin, likely being called over to another party—or anywhere else that wasn’t your home. Your heart shatters all over again, but you’re used to it. The glass that scrapes your skin is stained with blood but you’re a sucker for the pain.

“I’ll call you,” is all that he leaves you with before he’s helping himself out of your room, leaving the door open in his way. He doesn’t care for formalities, not even when you see him bump into your roommate on the way out. He gives a wave of acknowledgement, but nothing else—because who would introduce their fuck-buddy to their roommate?

But Jungkook knew. Of course, he did. You weren’t subtly because you hoped if someone knew then it’d be a little more real for you to hold onto. That ugly seedling of hope that blooms in your chest every time Jungkook would catch a glimpse of Jin leaving your room makes you wonder what it’d feel like if you could have him over for dinners, for movie nights—for it all.

But you can only do that; wonder.

The door creaks ever so slightly and only do you realise that the tears return. You automatically know who it is, because it’s the same routine. It’s the same song that you hear each time he comes over and it’s on an unhealthy loop of replays when you feel your bed dip.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Jungkook whispers.

You don’t care that you’re bare. Jungkook’s seen you in worse states. Drunk off your mind, on the verge of collapse when you’d hope the alcohol would take the pain away. He’s a good roommate—but he really needs to mind his own business.

“Stop.”

“He’s a fucking asshole,” he sneers, grabbing your arm so that you’d look at him.

He hates that your eyes are red, and he hates that the bruises on your neck and chest match. The room smells heady of sex, and Jungkook has to endure the same pain you feel but tenfold when he watches your lips wobble the longer he stares.

“I love him, Jungkook.” You sob, leaning into his chest when he sighs for the umpteenth time, hearing the same thing leave your lips. It never got easier.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Jungkook spits, the thought of Jin returning only making his fists ball tighter when they rest around your bare shoulders, “Stop this. Stop going back to him.”

“Why doesn’t he want me?” You cry, hot tears wetting the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt.

“Why do you want him?” Jungkook returns, voice raising when he pulls back.

His eyes are blazing, the anger in his chest is only exponentially increasing the more he sees you heave. The tears that leave your eyes makes his heart clench and makes him want to chase that son of a bitch down and make sure he’d never see you again. But Jungkook finds himself staying still because you were here. In his arms—even if it you weren’t his.

But he’s still angry, and his mouth runs hotter than ever.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself, huh?” Jungkook grabs your shoulders, forcing you to stare at him with swollen eyes, “You know he’s just using you! All he does is fuck you and leave. He doesn’t love you—and he will never love you so stop doing this to yourself and leave him before you continue hurting yourself like this!”

“Fuck you,” you spit through the tears.

“Because I’m telling you the truth?” He sneers, “Because I’m telling you things that you already know but are too damn scared to do?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jungkook!” You scream, pushing at his chest. But he grabs your wrist and levels you with a menacing stare while his own chest rises and falls with every breath of air he takes.

Your anger is muffled by your tears, and it’s a mixture of pain and rage when you peer at him. Jungkook’s so tired. He’s tired of feeling this way—of seeing you destroy yourself when you deserved more than anything anyone could ever offer.

“No,” Jungkook deadpans, “You’re going to listen to me and you’re doing this now.”

“I’m not doing anything! So let—me—go—!” You thrash in his hold, but Jungkook only tightens his grip around your wrists in a warning.

“Delete his number.”

“I can’t do that,” you say weakly.

“You can and you fucking will,” Jungkook says vehemently.

And as a point, he reaches for your phone that rests on your nightstand; and before you can process what he’s doing—he’s thumbing through your contacts and hovering over the one person you always seem to go back to.

“Jungkook, no—!”

But the damage is done, and Jungkook presses delete. For some reason, you feel absolutely nothing. But you’re angry, you’re angry because Jungkook’s always the person you see when it hurts the most and even through his words—all you want to do is scream.

“I hate you so much!” You scream.

Jungkook chuckles, dark and humourless as he runs his fingers through his hair. He stares to the side, jaw clenching in annoyance when you continue to cry and sob. He wanted to tell you to shut up—to stop crying over someone who’s probably already fucking the next breathing thing in his direction. But he doesn’t, because Jungkook’s impulsive. More so than he’d like.

“Yeah?” Jungkook scoffs, “You hate me? The person who’s trying his best to protect you?”

“You’re not protecting me!” You snap.

He ignores your indignant tone before levelling you with a blank stare that intimidates you more than you’ve ever been of Jungkook. He’s fuming, but it’s a calm before the storm that rattles your heartbeat against your chest. He looks livid.

“You hate me and love that fucking idiot?” He snarls, inching closer as you back away.

The growl in Jungkook’s chest is unheard of because more often than not he was level-headed. An annoying prick but calm and collected at most. This is the first time you’ve seen Jungkook look anything less than composed—and it was because of you.

“I can’t—I can’t control my feelings,” you say sourly.

He snorts, fully sarcastic and intentionally mocking when he looks at you with a hooded gaze.

“Isn’t that the fucking truth.”

“What the hell are you saying,” you narrow your eyes at him.

Oddly, you’re having this conversation when your tits are out—and only then do you consciously wrap your arms around your chest. His eyes immediately dart down to your subtle action and he rolls his eyes. You want to cuss him out, but Jungkook laughs. He laughs as if there was something funny—and you’re left even more confused.

“I’m saying that I fucking hate you,” he spits, face inching immensely closer as your eyes widen at his venomous tone.

“What—?”

“I hate you so much because you’re acting like an idiot chasing after someone who doesn’t give two shits about you.”

Your eyes well up with more tears as his words of bullets ricochet off your ears and settling deep in your heart. The harsh reminder makes your lips wobble and shoulders shake, but Jungkook doesn’t care.

��I hate you because you do this to yourself when you deserve so much more than what that prick can offer,” Jungkook says vehemently, hand wrapping around your chin to force your face to look at him.

Even now, when your eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, you look devastatingly beautiful.

“I hate you because I’ve been here this entire time and all you do is look for him,” Jungkook says softly, but his tone is still harsh, a sharp breath that erupts in his chest as well as yours as your eyes widen.

“Jungkook—”

“I’ve been here,” he croaks, and when you look into his eyes only do you see the pain, “I hate you so much because all I can do is love you.”

Your eyes widen as you gape at him, and you’re taking seconds too long to respond but your brain is processing the turn in events. But when you realise what he says, Jungkook’s pulling away. His hands retract themselves as if he’s been burnt and you were the flame responsible for it.

“Jungkook, wait—” you reach out. You were so confused, but you didn’t like the fact that he was leaving too.

“Don’t,” his eyes flutter shut in defeat, lips pursed, “Don’t touch me right now.”

Your face crumbles as you tug the blanket around your body until you’re resting on your knees and searching for his face.

“Can we talk—?”

“No,” he glares at you, and somehow—the look he gives you is far more painful than every moment Jin has ever walked out on you. Jungkook delivers the final blow when he snatches his hand away from yours completely.

“Figure your shit out because I’m done.”

And like always, you were left alone in your room—with more to think about than ever.

[veenxys]

I have Shigaraki thoughts but they will actively lower your IQ. (Looking back this got very out of hand).

- I wholeheartedly believe that Shiggy has spent time trying out different villain laughs. Like standing in front of the mirror practicing the appropriate facial expressions too.

- Remember how he wanted to make Villain!Bakugo cannon? Well, I absolutely think Bakugo was his first attempt at actually trying. He’s been having these thoughts of ‘how are you a hero’ and ‘our education system is failing if people with powerful quirks typically venture into heroism.’

-It’s a whole rant. Do not get him started.

- Whilst AFO is too busy being mean and bald to care about all the rants Kurogiri probably has a few of Shigaraki’s ‘triggers’ in the back of his mind. The other LOV members will learn to when to avoid certain topics depending on Kurogiri’s body language.

- Continuing that thought about Shiggy’s interest in corruption arch’s. One of the heroes he spent a lot of time in thinking about was Endeavour. His corruption arch was in its early stages when Shiggy gave up. He passingly mentioned the idea to Dabi and that was the first time the toasted Todoroki asked Kurogiri for a drink.

- Has probably dusted small/inconvenient objects out of pure pettiness. This could be the bagel someone was saving in the fridge or a stranger’s bike tyre. All that matters is that they will stare at a small pile of dust and so many questions.

- There was one time where Dabi made the ultimate power move and framed Shigaraki for ruining one of Compress’s spare coats.

- Will have way too much fun playing ‘I’m not touching you’. It’s only funny for him. Everyone else has some level of anxiety. Dabi by this stage will be a borderline alcoholic.

- He did consider using more social media platforms to try and entice younger people into villainy. He got really angry when barely anyone bothered with his post yet a blurry photo of Hawks gets over 10k in like 15 minutes. He gets flagged so quickly it’s not even funny to him anymore. Twitter is one of his triggers.

- Has kinda wondered what the weird vapour/mist Kurogiri gives off tastes/feels like to breathe in. He will probably try and take a slightly deeper breath if they’re about to warp.

- Finally. He still isn’t entirely sure where to look when speaking to AFO face to face. He’s trying not to be rude to his master- but also ‘eye’ contact feels odd. He figured something out but he prefers calls…

LMAO IM CRYING THIS IS SO ACCURATE MFSMKGKSKFKSKFKSKD

[capaimagines]

im jaebeom - underworld

Pairing: mafia leader!Im Jaebeom x Reader | Genre: angst & mafia | Warnings: alludes to sexual assault, fighting, weapons, drugs, blood, swearing | WC: 2.6k

Request: Hi, I'm not too sure if you write them or not but if you do, may I please request a mafia/gang fic? Or if you don't want to do gang maybe just like JB got7 sells drugs or something?? Anyways I'll let you decide but maybe something goes wrong during the mission and they are led to the wrong place and in the mean time they take JB fiance and sexually assault her? Of course you don't have to write in detail. Maybe Mark and Jinyoung come in mid way and lose their shit and you are just limp and weak that you start screaming whenever they touch you but they need to get you to safety. Lots and lots of angst please. I understand if you can't. Thank you!!!

part two

You would consider yourself as an adventurous soul. Ever since you were little you were never one to back down from a fight. You spoke your mind no matter what anyone else said which, when you were younger, got you into a shit load of trouble. So, when you had met Jaebeom at your dingy workplace, which was some dirty ass, barely-lit bar, no one should have been surprised that you had a go at him for being a prick.

He had been rude all night but being a mafia leader to one of the biggest groups in the nation at the moment could stress you out a little. He had snapped at you because the food they had ordered hadn’t been cooked right or something. You had rolled your eyes, not caring if you got fired and snapped right back at him.  

“Feisty,” He commented with a smirk.

Now, had you known at the time who he was and what he did you probably would have dialed it back just a little bit. Then you wouldn’t be where you were now, years later. Engaged to Jaebeom and living a lavish lifestyle. You weren’t that surprised when you found out he was in the mafia and he really hadn’t done much to hide it. It had only enticed you even more.

Let alone the six others that were always by his side always made for good entertainment.  They had all become family to you and like all cliché romances, you had fallen in love with Jaebeom and it only took a year of dating before he proposed to you. You excited him and while your feisty attitude sometimes got on his nerves or came dangerously close to putting you in jeopardy, he loved that you weren’t afraid of him. That you embraced this lifestyle like it had been the only thing you had ever known.

Now, he never wanted to actually put you out on missions but you weren’t having it. You refused to freeload off them and wanted to help wherever you could. Being a housewife, cooking and cleaning had never been something you wanted to do. So, Mark has thankfully shown you how to fight properly. Jackson and Jinyoung had frequently brought you to the shooting range which was located below the mansion. You had a sharp eye and caught on quick and while you were adventurous, you hoped you’d never have to shoot anyone.

Youngjae had shown you a little of hacking skills and all the equipment they used. How to fix things if they broke or were damaged during a mission quickly. Yugyeom and BamBam have taught you better acting skills. You could play the role of whoever they needed you too, lure in whoever was needed without issue. Plus, BamBam loved shopping and so did you so, lots of new clothes and shopping trips. Especially when a new mission came up.

Jaebeom had done his best to keep you quiet. He didn’t need enemies knowing about you because he knew they’d try to harm you to get to him. While he knew you could hold your own, he loved you and he was protective. He never wanted anything to happen to you. Until what was supposed to be just a meeting to discuss terms on some product coming in that went bad.

Then you went missing.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You spat blood out of your mouth, wanting to vomit from the iron taste. Just a mere few hours ago you were sitting next to Jaebeom, proudly, while he negotiated terms for some drugs that were smuggled in. You had insisted on going as you had planned on helping Jaebeom run and build this empire up. You never wanted him to change everything just for you. Sure, the danger was high but you didn’t care, you loved him and if this was what he wanted to do, you would stand by him.

You aren’t really sure what happened though. You remembered a loud bang, blinding white lights and then someone hitting the back of your head. You groaned at the memory; that’s probably why the back of your head hurt. You knew something was off when you had first arrived at the meeting. The other goons around the leader were too fidgety, eyes constantly shooting around the room. Your mistake was brushing it off, thinking that Jaebeom would keep you safe. Yet, here you sat, tied up with your throbbing head and a stinging cheek.  

“We can’t kill her yet,” You heard someone say.  

“Well, isn’t that a damn relief,” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes. Whoever was standing next to you kicked you harshly, to which you groaned and bit down your lip to keep quiet. Your mouth always did get you in trouble.

“Once he gets here, you’re all dead anyways. He wouldn’t lose to someone as pathetic as you,” you growled to which you spat at him. You remembered him from the meeting earlier. Here we are again, your mouth getting you into trouble as he punched you across the face. You spat out some more blood, surprised your jaw wasn’t broken yet. You were also surprised at how calm you were. That just showed how much you trusted your fiancé to come to your rescue. He’d never let anything bad happen to you, or so you thought.

Except when the leader got tired of your snarky comments and changed tactics. Instead of physical violence, he gave permission to his goons to do whatever they wanted to you. With you being tied up, you couldn’t fight back. You tried, of course, but without the use of your limbs it didn’t do much. You screamed, you bit them, you tried kicking and headbutting. Though it always ended with them hitting you and doing what they wanted anyways.

You don’t know how long you had been in that room, in that place, but it felt like years. They never opened the blinds so you didn’t see the sun rise or fall. The leader came back a few times, ensuring that JB was well aware where you were and what he wanted in order to send you back. You knew he wouldn’t send you back. JB would come to save you and he’d kill you both.

You felt like an empty shell now. What you had been saving for your wedding night had been taken away without your will. You hated how timid you had become in just a few days. Every noise, every footstep, every breath made you flinch. You tried to be strong, but you were breaking little by little. When you heard the door open and smelled the alcohol you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the vomit to stay down. You knew what was coming, yet you still hadn’t prepared yourself for further damage. 

Again, you tried to fight. You swung your tied legs around wildly, tried biting and headbutting. All it took was one swift kick to your stomach to stop you. Everything hurt and you heard the unbuckling of a belt. You gulped, willing yourself to stay strong. Then you heard a gunshot.  Then another. One after another followed by the sound of screams. Then the door slammed open to where you were.

You squeezed your eyes shut. This was it. Either JB was here to take you home or they were really going to kill you. 

“What the actual fuck?!” You knew that voice. That was Mark.  

“M-Mark,” You said weakly, opening one of your eyes and sure enough there stood Mark and Jinyoung, eyes fuming with rage.  

“You’ve fucked up royally,” Jinyoung said, deadly serious. Before you knew it, the guns were dropped and the two boys had started beating the life out of the two males in the room with you.

You knew they were dead, they were in the room with two of the best fighters you knew of. You also heard a neck crack and another gurgle. Mark and Jinyoung were breathing heavily, blood littering their clothes and their knuckles as well as some splatters on their faces.  

“Y/N,” Mark said, turning to you and reaching to pull your shirt up over your shoulders and push your skirt down before he could untie you. You flinched at the sudden touch, trying to scoot back and immediately felt guilty at the hurt look in his eyes.

It hardened quicker, Mark’s specialty. Not showing his emotions, especially on missions, “I’m just going to untie you, okay?” He said quietly and you nodded. Jinyoung was still fuming but kneeled down to try and help you sit up. He touched your shoulder to help pull you up but you jerked away. 

“J-just d-don’t touch me right now,” You stuttered, “Please,” Your voice was low.

The two boys looked at each other, worried. The once feisty girl that had no problem running into the middle of a gun fight, who was usually the first to throw a punch, who seemed to have no fear of anything except spiders, was afraid of them. Of the people she should trust most, she was afraid of them. Never had they seen her look this weak, this broken. They both exchanged another glance while you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and fixed your clothing.

You walked out, looking for your fiancé. You weren’t okay. Not in the slightest and honestly?  You really didn’t want anyone touching you right now, but you needed to see him, just to know that he was there and that you still had something to fight for. Mark and Jinyoung followed close behind, but made sure they didn’t touch you. You saw JB, in the middle of killing the few remaining men and nodded your head in relief, walking outside to the car where you knew Youngjae was waiting.

JB saw you walk out and went to run after you but Jinyoung stepped in front of him, pushing on his chest and shaking his head, “D-don’t, hyung,” He said quietly and JB raised a brow.  

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” He had been worried sick for days, not sleeping or eating until he found you. Mark cleared his throat, shaking his head and not meeting JB’s eyes.

“No. No, she’s not.”

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You were different. Everyone noticed, but JB really noticed. The once confident, feisty woman he had met at the bar all those years ago that wasn’t afraid to run her mouth. The girl that looked down the barrel of his gun all those years ago with a smirk and a laugh wasn’t there anymore.

You were jumpy, timid, hypervigilant. Jaebeom noticed how whenever you went out, even just around the mansion that you had come to call home, you were always on alert. Always checking over your shoulder. Jumping and tensing at every little noise. How the affection you used to show the boys was near non-existent at this point.

The affection you showed him was barely there. He was lucky if you let him hold your hand every now and then or kiss your temple. Everyone had stopped trying to initiate skinship with you. The one time, a few days after they had brought you home and you had managed to get yourself out of bed, Jackson had come up behind you. 

He was excited to see you out of bed and moving around the kitchen. Excited to see that you had showered and were looking more like your normal self. Mark and Jinyoung hadn’t told the others outside of JB what they had walked into that night. At least not at that point. So, Jackson, without knowing, wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled himself into your shoulder.

You panicked, your elbow came back to his ribs and you flipped him on his back on the tiled ground. While his breath was knocked out of him he was more in shock than anything else.  Mark had been in the kitchen at that time too and he wasn’t as shocked, but more surprised. It was enough to tell him that it wasn’t the only time that had happened when they walked in on it.

They all sat down and had a meeting. Jinyoung and Mark explained what had happened when they did walk into the room that night. What was happening. How terrified, scared and vulnerable you looked. How, even though you could barely walk yourself, you would not let them touch you, let them help you.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone about what had happened while you were in captivity. You didn’t want to or need to. You didn’t want them to pity you and you didn’t want them to view you as a weak little girl that couldn’t defend herself. So, you did what you had to do and you bottled it up.  Tried to go on as if things were normal, as if you weren’t disgusted with yourself, but the boys knew you better than you knew yourself, they weren’t dumb.

They could see right through you.  JB could see right through you. He didn’t get down on one knee and ask you to marry him if he wouldn’t be able to know when you weren’t okay. While he wanted nothing more than for you to just talk to him, to let him in and let him help, he knew you didn’t want his pity.

He stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching you. He’d been here for at least fifteen minutes just watching you and if you noticed, you hadn’t said anything. He leaned against the door frame, eyes trailing over you. On the outside, you looked okay, but he knew inside, you were in turmoil. He wanted nothing more than to take that turmoil away for you. To bear it all himself.

“What is it, Jaebeom?” You sighed, turning to face him.  

He straightened up, brown orbs meetings yours, but you instantly looked away. You’ve never looked away from him, “I want you to talk to me about that night,  about those days locked up there.”  

You groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed and burying your face in your hands. He had asked you this every night since you had gotten back, “Nothing, Jaebeom. Nothing at all.” You said, no trace of emotion in your voice.

He sat down next to you and you tensed. He felt his heart break; you were afraid. Afraid of him.

“Are you afraid of me?” He murmured, not making eye contact. You, however, looked at him with wide eyes. Did he really think you were afraid of him? Were you? You shook your head, you knew he would never hurt you. Never do anything to purposely put you in danger. You did that enough on your own.

“I could never be afraid of you, Jae.” You mumbled back in response as you reached for his hand but hesitating along the way. He grabbed yours, heart breaking more as you tensed but then he felt a little glimmer of hope as you slowly relaxed and weakly squeezed his hand a little tighter.  

“I just don’t want to talk about it Jae. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want- I don’t want you to see me as weak and vulnerable,” You sucked in your bottom lip, feeling the familiar burn of tears in your eyes.

“I would never think that about you. You’re the strongest woman I know, Y/N. I love you and nothing is going to change that. Ever,” You squeezed his hand a little tighter, eyes trained on the floor.  

“I love you too, Jae. More than you can imagine,” You took a breath, your glossy eyes turning to meet his, “But I don’t know if I will ever be the same again.”

[jenosslut]

why’d you only call me when you’re high

pairings : na jaemin x fem!reader

genre/s : angst

warnings : slight mentions of alcohol, sex and drugs

recommend song/s : why’d you only call me when you’re high - arctic monkeys (obv lmao)

word count : 0.6k

a/n : okay no im not making this into a series lmao

masterlist

—

Under the vivid moonlight, dim city and slight overcast on the noxious night, Na Jaemin found himself stuck inside his luxurious, New York-esk apartment- wait no- empire at three in the morning

His body was wrapped in between silky white sheets as he tried to close his eyes in order to drift into sleep.

As the man was about to find himself in dreamland, escaping all his worries for what would feel like a couple minutes; his phone lit up, releasing a vexatious ‘ding’ sound.

The Na groaned exasperatedly as his body crawled closer towards his nightstand, hand reaching his phone.

Although he had grabbed his phone in order to put it on silent, a message from an unexpected person caught his attention, making his heart leap just at the contact name.

“I need a partner, are you out tonight?” He read, heart crashing in forbidden enthusiasm.

He wanted to say he hated this, wanted to be able to push you away whenever you tried to contact him. He told himself, several times, that he should be aware of his self worth. That he shouldn’t crawl back to you whenever you desired.

He should’ve been able to stand up for himself, to not give you what fancied.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t get himself to speak up against you. He could never think about himself whenever it came to you.

He absolutely adored you. For so long. His heart raced expeditiously whenever he saw your contact name displaying on his phone. He knew you didn’t care about him romantically one bit. You just used him as an accompaniment whenever a feeling of solitary captivated you.

You were in for a treat, he was in for trouble.

Hesitantly, the Na bit his bottom lip as his fingers begun to type.

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

There couldn’t be many reasons why you had suddenly decided to remember his existence. Specially at three in the morning out of many appropriate time periods.

You either wanted to get high, drunk, fuck or- probably- do all of the above.

He sucked in his breath as his eyes ungovernably closed, hands trembling as he desperately lingered for a reply.

Jaemin’s eyes shot open seconds later as his screen was lit up with your reply once again.

“I’m not high, Na. Just wanted some time with you. Though, you’re starting to bore me, baby.”

You brought out the apprehensive in him. His breath hitched, body filled with nervousness as he tried his best to overcome it.

“Come over.”

And he gave in. He was ruining himself on his own. Yet he loved every second of it.

He loved the feeling of your bare body pressed onto his. Legs tangled as he whispered candied words onto your hair, inhaling the ambrosial scent surrounding you.

He lived moments like that to its fullest. It was pathetic, considering you only found your way into his arms whenever your mind was onto something. But he treasured those moments. He treasured you.

Just ten minutes after his thumb pressed onto the send button, his doorbell rang, eyes witnessing your alluring figure.

He observed everything about you as you stood in front of him with that enticing smile of yours that he could never get enough of. An expensive bottle of wine delicately shaking in between your hands as your body was only wrapped inside a baby pink, silk nightgown.

And that moment was when he knew, he was incapable of making alright decisions. His heart won, and he lost to you once again.

[harritudur]

because every ship needs its ‘we accidentaly got married in Vegas’ AU, so here the noabeth version (AO3 link) 1860 words + pg-13 + no beta, we die like men!

Elisabeth wakes up to a headache, her head pounding too heavily to her liking. As she becomes more and more conscious, her eyes slowly crack open. This is… not her room. Then she notices a cheap plastic ring on her left hand (the kind of ridiculous rings you get for 2$ from capsule-toys distributors) and a warm lump curled against her side.

Well fuck.

The memories of the last 24 hours come flooding back:

—the fly to Las Vegas —the international congress about renewable energy sources —the four boring hours of conference she attended to (without sign language interpreter, thank you) —the open-bar on the second floor —the tall blonde man she already run into two weeks ago in Berlin, and couldn’t stop thinking about since then —his fingers as he tried to remember the few words in sign langage his mother taugh him years ago —his face as he explained his presence to attend the conference of Dr… something? about… doctrines? or was it churches? —his eyes dancing on her bare knee when she crossed her legs —his name she couldn’t stop mouthing between glasses of vodka —N-O-A-H —his hand, warm on her low back when they left the bar —his lips pressed to hers in the elevator —Noah —his arms around her waist as they walked out the hotel —alcohol —music —his mouth —the irresistible perfum she breathed in when her nose brushed the soft skin beside his ear —alcohol —the flashing lights —his mouth —more alcohol —a song —his fucking delicious mouth —giggles —a chapel —a kiss —a hotel room…

She stops and checks under the sheet.

THANKS GOD! Her shirt and skirt are still on.

With great care, Elisabeth stretches to observe her partner in crime. Even turned towards the wall as he is, she can tell he is still sleeping by the quiet rise and fall of his bare shoulders. She decides to take a more attentive look at him and the first thing she notices is a plastic ring of the same quality than hers on his left hand. Oh God. Then, the edge of a tattoo catchs her eyes, linen covering most of his back.

Leaves? Maybe flowers?

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Elisabeth pushes the sheet away to reveal the entire tattoo. A tree, with a classic design. Its branches large and full of leaves and fruits (apples), and its roots deep in the soil, each ramification, each bisection leading to a name. Religious names, but from different faiths.

Beautiful.

It’s only when he shudders lightly that she realizes her fingertips were tracing over the ink on his back. By the vibration she feels under them, he is murmuring something and her hand moves away.

After a few yawns, Noah turns over, and a soft smile begins to work its way across his face when his eyes land on Elisabeth.

“That dream again…” he whispers, so faintly she can’t read his lips. But his brief delight disappears when a violent migraine encircles his skull. He blinks, and remembers a few drinks, a few laughs, a few kisses, and… what else? He can’t tell. His incompetent brain makes him groan and Noah covers up his face with his left hand. As he does, something not supposed to be there touches his cheek, and he blinks again before muttering. “What the-”

A silly plastic band around his ring finger. “-fuck??!!”

The memory of his own voice singing loud and off-key Bruno Mars’ Marry You starts to haunt Noah’s ears, and the face of an Elvis Presley in a white rhinestone jumpsuit with a priest’s collar pops right into his mind.

“… oh. Oh.”

Everything is spinning a little around him, but pieces by pieces, the puzzle of the last night starts to reconstitute itself.

“Hm wellllllll… so apprently, we drank a lot,” Noah says as he sits up, cross-legged, and is now facing his wife. “And… we got married.”

The calm in his tone can not be heard, but Elisabeth sees it on his lips, his face, his attitude, his body… This whole situation seems absolutely normal and not upsetting for him, and she just wants to scream.

With great suppleness (which Noah remarks by an eyebrow-raising), Elisabeth reaches for her purse on the ground by the bed, and takes out her loyal notepad and blue pencil to write.

you’re not freaking out?

“Not really, no” he replies, shrugging. “And… It was your idea after all.”

She has to make him repeat the last part, because there is no way that she is at the initiative of this non-sense. Noah repeats the same words, with that astounding calm, and Elisabeth rolls her eyes in a cocky way. She writes down on a new page, in capital:

IMPOSSIBLE

“Yes. Your idea.”

Her head shakes. No. She is a rational woman. A reasonable woman. Sure, this Noah is sexy and hot and funny and smart and courteous and totally her kind of guy and she is definitely attracted to him… but no. No way! She is not the instigator. Or, is she?

Noah smiles at her gently and her chest suddenly tightens. Fuck.

After a tilt of his head to ask for permission, he takes the notepad from her hands and flippes through the previous pages. In doing so, Noah can go back in time, can witness and find passed conversations, and he eventually stops at one page. He smiles again and shows it to Elisabeth.

There, in blue, little hearts all around, a shaky handwriting that she identifies as hers:

<3< 3 marrY ME pleas e <3</i>

“If I remember correctly, you wanted us to get married, and I said no at first -because I thought it had to be a joke. But you almost started to cry. So…” he explains at an Elisabeth deathly pale. “I said yes. And we went to a chapel with an Elvis-priest.”

There is a furrow between Elisabeth’s eyebrows and she just wants the earth to open up and to swallow her. It takes her a long minute to processes the information he just gave and, like a sliver of light through the darkness, she… remembers.

                        [ she nuzzled into his neck, his arms secure around her waist, and breathed him in. He laughed and Elisabeth felt a warmth rush over her. Alcohol or Noah? She moved away to enjoy the enticing sight and kissed him again. And again. And again. Her hands started to dance in the air, before she could even think about it, and signed: marry me. ]

All the details of the night or their chronology are still nebulous. But she clearly remembers *that* moment, and the way she felt. The feelings. The want. The need to have this man. To claim him as hers. Where did such impetuous desires come from?

She looks up and Noah’s eyes are still on her face, but the calm in them shifts into something different. Trouble? Worry? No. Care, Elisabeth recognizes.

He gets off the bed to look for his shirt and she can’t help but huffes her disappointment when he finds it. Now decent (except for his bed-hair), he stands in the middle of the room, hands on his hips in a superhero pose, the one you use when you need confidence and nerve. His face softens into a tender look that makes Elisabeth’s breath hitch in her throat. Again.

“So, now that we’re all better, and sober,“ he says, walking back towards the bed and stops at its edge, “I guess I’ll go get us a divorce.”

A gasp leaves her lips and she sits up straight on the mattress. Divorce. How Elisabeth hates the word. Her parents divorced when she was still in her early teens and, witnessed the torment and tears, and she became determined, more than anything, not to be like them. To marry just once, for good! And with the man of her life.

She shakes her head. One of Noah’s eyebrows arches.

“No?”

She shakes her head once more and this time, mouthes her answer. No.

Noah gulps. It is not the reaction he expected, but it is not an unpleasant one neither. He glances at the end table next to the bed, observing a piece of paper on top. Their marriage licence.

                         [ they tumbled onto the bed, a mess of tipsy giggles and limbs. Noah pulled away to place kisses all over the side of Elisabeth’s jaw and neck, but she grabbed his face to press his mouth against hers. When Noah came up for air, a giant grin spread across his flushed face. She looked up at him with a tired but tender smile, and her fingers found the buttons on his shirt, too clumsy to work properly. “Let me…” he whispered against her lips, hovering just above them and Elisabeth took her chance to kiss him quickly before falling back on the mattress with a sigh. With difficulty, he eventually took off his shirt and tossed it on the ground. When he looked down, Elisabeth was snoring, dead to the world, and he laughed. Tiredness was taking over him as well, and Noah curled-up in the bed next to her. He pushed gently a stand of golden hair off her face before falling into sleep without a second thought ]

He nods.

“Okay?”

i don’t want to divorce. we could try. and i think i like you.

Her eyes glare at him with demand and Noah tries to find arguments against it. In vain. And he figures out how they ended up in this situation: he is unable to say ‘no’ to her (adorable) stubbornness. But is her ‘i like you’ enough to build a marriage on?

“Okay, okay… we can try and work it out,” Noah states as he sits by her side on the bed so she can read his lips more easily. “And… if we look at the situation in a practical way, there are benefits. Tax benefits. Insurance benefits. I read as well that marriage help you live longer!”

She laughs and he notices the dimples from her smile. Once more, her pen moves quickly over the paper.

marital confidences privilege too

This time, he is the one to smile, and his knee touches hers through the sheet.

“True! I mean… if I decide one day to kill people, I could tell you every details, and yet, you couldn’t testify against me.”

She tiltes her head, an almost curious expression appearing on her face as she looked at him. Then a grin, and more writing.

i was more talking about civil procedure for neighbourhood disputes but im in to cover up your murders

He laughs and Elisabeth wishes she can hear the sound of it. She easily understands how drunk-her could have wanted this man to be hers. Noah moves closer, and for a moment, she thinks he’s going to kiss her, but he doesn’t. And a part of Elisabeth wants him to.

Maybe when the time will be right -and after they both have brushed their teeth.

“I will order a very light brunch for two then.”

Noah eventually leans over to kiss her cheek and Elisabeth doesn’t withdraw. She could get used to that.

[meow-bebe]

Elusive

The First installment of my Neo Classics collection, ‘Elusive’ is set in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby.

“Ten Lee throws the most extravagant parties in New York, though he rarely seems to be in attendance himself. When you find yourself in his mansion one warm June evening, you aim to find the elusive Ten Lee and get a bit more than you bargained for.”

Paring: Ten Lee x reader, Jung Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Roaring 20s au, Jazz Age au, The Great Gatsby au

Warnings: quite a bit of alcohol, general debauchery, mentions of adultery, mentions of smoking, this one gets a bit suggestive (heavy make out session, removal of outer layers)

Word count: 6.4k

Tonight’s soundtrack: Booty Swing - Parov Stelar, It Ain’t Over - Monsta X, Catgroove - Parov Stelar, Miss Jackson - Panic! at the Disco, Love Talk - WayV, Nicotine - Panic! at the Dicso

A/n: hiya! before you read, i’d just like to say that this fic is my pride and joy. Its my child. It took me over a month to plan out and write, is the longest thing ive ever written, and im very very proud of it. so please, if you enjoyed elusive give it a reblog! send me an ask! just scream in the tags, but let me know you enjoyed it! ill appreciate it more than you can ever know, and it will definitely help to give me motivation to keep working on the next parts of neo classics. 

“The bar is in full swing, and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside, until the air is alive with chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other’s names.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

In all of New York, fanciful, expensive, outrageous New York, there was one man known far and wide for his parties. Those in attendance always returned touting fabulous stories of more liquor than an army could drink in a week, of the celebrities that shamelessly showed their faces, and of the cover that night and perhaps hundreds of people could offer to those wanting to make a fool of themselves or sneak off with a mistress. It couldn't be denied that they were possibly the best parties in the whole state. 

And the man behind it all? The elusive Ten Lee. 

Ten was an enigma, a figure shrouded in mystery despite opening his property to all those who fancied a wild night most weekends. Very little was known about him to the general public. Even many of those in his own social circle knew little to nothing about the man. Supposedly he had inherited most of his fortune, and having only begun taking up residence in New York in the past year or so there was quite a bit of speculation that he was foreign. Despite being the topic of many a gossip column, Ten wasn’t exactly a public figure, and it seemed that this absolute lack of information about him bled into the atmosphere of his extravaganzas as well. Many of his regular partygoers never bothered to question his presence, or lack thereof. Ten had always interested you, and upon your invitation to one of his grand functions, you had decided that this was the night you would meet the little known Mr. Lee. 

Not that you were truly invited, but not many people were. Most just came anyway, saying they knew someone who was involved with Ten, or they had known him before he claimed his inheritance and became the Mr. Lee that all high class New Yorkers knew of. (Or was there a time before? Perhaps he had started out just as anyone else and his sudden acclamation of a large sum of money led him to spend on the most frivolous of things. Or maybe the man had arrived from his mother’s womb as the classy and expensive bachelor he was known as. No one seemed to know.) No matter what their story was, each attendee often brought along several plus ones. Automobiles would bear them out to Long Island, and they would flood onto the lawn, ready to dance and drink and make good use of all the expensive treats Ten provided. 

It was through a friend that you found yourself being driven out to the island one evening in late June. This was not your first Lee party, and it would not be your last, however you, unlike many of the other guests, held on to some shred of dignity and only showed up when invited. Even if you were only brought along because Irene didn’t want to be seen alone, it was something. Not that she ever kept to herself for long. 

Irene, a close friend of many years, was a self proclaimed rising starlet, although in reality she had been a very minor character in two films. She could be a bit dramatic at times (as her “profession” called for), and her title as “actress” was certainly an exaggeration. Still, she was a dear friend to you no matter how much she liked to stroke her own ego. And using her small claim to fame, Irene had managed to worm her way into the heart and car of a man who was also trying to make his way in the film business. You suspected he was about as in the public eye as Irene. Nevertheless, he had managed to get an invitation through one of his higher-ups and invited Irene to accompany him, which of course meant you would be tagging along as well. And truly, it wasn’t as if you minded. You enjoyed a night out as much as the next person, and Irene was your ticket into many affairs you wouldn’t otherwise find yourself attending. 

There were a few others driving out with you, all chattering amongst themselves and buzzing with excitement for the coming night. Irene, placed strategically in the front seat,  appeared to have latched onto the driver as her catch of the night. This was expected, after all he had been the one to invite her. You didn’t fool yourself into thinking she would stay by your side for very long anyway, Irene was notorious for ditching you as soon as a particularly good looking man showed up. You were fine on your own, and didn’t usually mind being left to your own devices. Depending on where you were you often got the urge to explore, after all the rich lead different lives, and getting a glimpse of that was always a good time. Irene often encouraged you to find someone of your own to pass the time with, and while sometimes you would find someone who could hold a half decent conversation, it was never very high on the night’s agenda. Though it seems tonight, in a rare break from your usual habit of flying solo, you had found someone. An attractive young man who had been introduced to you as Mr. Jung was seated at your side, and had begun talking quietly with you as the automobile sped along towards the island. 

“You look quite dashing tonight, Miss一?”

His voice was deep and soft, gentle and just a tad bit sultry.

“Y/l/n. Y/n Y/l/n,” you fill in.

“Miss Y/n Y/l/n,” Mr. Jung muses, and though you’ve heard them many times before the familiar words feel different when he says them like that, perfectly proper in his every action  except for the slight seductive tone slipping through his barriers. A pleasant shiver runs down your spine as he takes your hand and presses a chaste kiss to your gloved fingers, the black of the silk making a nice contrast with his pretty pink lips. “A beautiful name, though not as beautiful as the one who holds it.”

You giggle, raising the hand not grasped in his to cover your mouth, and reply, “Oh Mr. Jung, how you flatter me.”

“Please,” he lets your fingers slip out of his, “just call me Jaehyun.” 

Well, perhaps not entirely proper, but there was no denying that you were enjoying the attention he was laying on you. Finding Ten Lee might be the final goal of tonight but he could be notoriously hard to find, and even if you did have ulterior motives there was no reason you shouldn't enjoy yourself in the meantime. Jaehyun had been nothing but gracious and flattering, and it never hurt to have a gorgeous man’s arm to cling to. You chat idly with Jaehyun for the rest of the ride out to Ten’s mansion, words flowing freely between you the whole time yet each learning not a single note worthy detail about the other. 

By the time you arrive, just before dusk is preparing to settle herself over the bay, the party is already in full swing. Though the real festivities begin once night falls, many guests arrive in the afternoon, early enough to enjoy the section of the beach that falls on Ten’s property. They swim in the green glass waves of the bay and generally enjoy everything that the mansion has to offer while it's still light out before changing into evening wear in one of the many spare rooms and coming down the wide marble staircases in pairs, ready to throw themselves into the pulsing energy of the night. 

The beach is now empty as the unfamiliar man in the front seat pulls into the long drive snaking up the lawn and tries to find a place to park amongst the crowd of other automobiles. People dressed to the nines, still in their swimming suits, and everything in between trail up the lawn, bright light and the sound of many people talking all at once enticing them towards the house. 

The car comes to a stop, finding a lucky spot not too far from the house, the excitement rolling off each and every person surrounding you palpable in the air. Jaehyun opens the door and steps out before offering a hand to help you down. You take it with a slight smile, T-strap heels clicking against the pavement as you dismount and shut the door. The hand placed on top of Jaehyun’s quickly found its way to his elbow as he leads you up the lawn towards the french doors, thrown wide open and spilling the bright light that illuminated the inside and the growing noise of the party as people traversed in and out of the house. 

Irene and the driver were not far behind you, a familiar flirtatious bounce in her step as they traipse up the lawn. You knew from the way she looked at him一predatorial, like she was going to devour him but make him feel like he was the one doing the stalking一that you wouldn’t be seeing much of her after a certain point in the night. This wasn’t uncommon for Irene, she always said she liked the “thrill of the chase without having to do the chasing.” You supposed your own plans for tonight weren’t all that different, what with your search for the host. Usually that would’ve bothered you, as you didn’t particularly approve of Irene’s galavanting at events she shouldn’t really be present at in the first place, but tonight you were too wrapped up in the events unfolding to care all that much. 

The tiered silk of your dress swished against your calves, the heavy beading giving it a swing which accentuated the swing of your hips that grew with your confidence as you made your way up the wide steps leading to Ten’s front door. With each stride you take forward the noise inside seemed to dull a bit, fading away until it was just a buzzing murmur in the background. Your vision zeroes in on the mahogany doors, a small window to what felt almost like a whole other universe contained inside the mansion. You tended to get star-struck easily, but there was something different about the feeling tonight. An excitement burned in your veins, one you had never felt before, as if your body was in the know about some mysterious outcome or event of tonight. It felt as though you were surrounded by a bubble of water that hazed over the silhouettes of people and faded the harmonies of the symphony buzzing somewhere inside, laughter and the faint clinking of glasses tinny in your ears. 

There was something about the atmosphere that drew you in. You would never quite be able to explain the feeling, that odd tugging deep in your chest yanking you forward by some invisible string of fate. All feeling seemed to have left you except the aching want to throw yourself into the fray and dance until your feet fell off, drink until the sun came up, feel the burn of others’ cigarette smoke in your lungs until you choked, search for a companion until you found the right one. 

Time had slowed, and the usual clacking of your heels deepened to a hearty thud for each step you took. Every movement dragged you farther down under the surface, your sense of anything outside the confines of the house melting away until you had been utterly consumed by the muted liveliness of the party before you had even joined in. Everything happened so fast for being in slow motion, and before you could get the gears turning once again and recognize that you were no longer on the path leading to the steps Jaehyun was leading you through the double doors. The bubble popped. Imaginary water came crashing down around you, streaming off your hair and down your dress. The sensation was so strong you could swear that you felt the rivulets on your arms, the dampness of your hair on your neck. 

Everything was suddenly crystal clear, blurred forms regaining their sharp edges and an almost overwhelming surge of music and din of conversation assaulting your senses all at once. You look down at the ground, somewhat disoriented and almost expecting a puddle of water underneath you, drips falling from the hem of your dress, but there was nothing. The ground was dry, as it should be, and you shook your head slightly to yourself in hopes it would draw you back to reality a bit. 

As Jaehyun tugs you along, slipping nimbly through the crowds gathered in the tastefully decorated foyer, you simultaneously began to regain your wits and let your thoughts drift. An odd mix of cigar smoke, lust, and overbearing perfume hung in the air, threatening to put you in a trance and drag you away. There was always a feeling of disconnection with the world around you that creeped in at Ten’s parties. Often you would let it carry you away, but tonight you were here for more than just your own enjoyment, and so you clung to Jaehyun like a lifeline. He would glance back at you every few seconds, a reassuring smile on his face as your hand on his arm began to squeeze just a little tighter, the tiniest bit afraid you would lose him in the kinetic chaos of dancing and laughing. 

No guest goes without a glass of something to wash their inhibitions right down the drain, and many swipe the tiny sandwiches or pastries offered by butlers expertly balancing platters of hors d'oeuvres in hand as they expertly navigate through the throngs of people. You’re no black sheep tonight, for Jaehyun presses a glass of expensive champagne into your hand as you seek a somewhat less crowded place to enjoy the night, a replica clutched in his own. There are none who stand alone in this crowd, either surrounded by a group just as free spirited as themselves or paired off, hanging off their partners’ arms and not so subtly sneaking suggestive glances at each other. 

For each corner you turn you see a familiar face一an old acquaintance from school, a friend’s sister, the man who works at the bank. But just as quickly as you recognize them their  identities slip from your mind, partly from a combination of the overwhelming amount of people crowding around you on every side and the buzz of energy and alcohol. 

Ten’s parties were known for being quite anonymous to those looking for a good time. Those in attendance would always see people they knew outside the bubble of safety Long Island offered on night like these, yet no matter how scandalous their behavior it would never become public knowledge. Gossip was unavoidable, yet that was always how it stayed一mere gossip for the wealthy ladies to discuss over tea. As darkness fell over the bay so came a cloak of anonymity that drew in people like moths to a lightpost. 

An hour or so of aimlessly wandering the three story mansion, people have dispersed a bit which means that the rooms are a bit easier to navigate, though there is still no lack of bodies. You trail along through the groups of dancers, some getting drunk, all throwing caution to the wind (perhaps a little too much). The symphony had changed songs, now playing something with a bit more of a sexy tone to it and you sway slightly along to the beat as you walk. Idly chatting with Jaehyun, one hand on his arm and the other filled with a glass of something sticky sweet to replace the long gone champagne, the two of you traverse through Ten’s mansion, both surveying the rooms and glancing at the people passing by. 

He’s got quite the handsome face, and most people wouldn’t look past that on a night such as this. But he’s looking for something tonight, you can see it in his eyes. The subtle way his gaze flicks up and down the figures of women in dresses fancier than yours as he uses eyeing the crowds for a clearish path as an excuse to not be looking solely at you. The slight desire he holds as his eyes take in the people milling about matches exactly with the look he gave you when you first sat down next to him in Irene’s friend’s car, and the way he flicks nervously between observing the other women in the room and you, still holding fast to his arm, lets you know that he’s not yet sure if you’re what he wants. 

It doesn’t bother you though. He’s not what you’re looking for tonight either. 

You’re looking for Ten. Though you only vaguely knew what he looked like, you always kept one eye sliding over the many people you run across, hoping to see a face that would strike you as the one person that intrigues you most. You’ve always heard rumors that he never seems to be present at the parties he throws, but personally you have a hunch that he likes to hide in the cover of the crowds. You’ve done your fair share of research about the man, not that drunken recollections and idle gossip are much to go off of, but none of the people you’ve asked about him seem to care all that much. Free drinks, a good time, and the beautiful people that crowded into Ten’s mansion was enough to make most forget about the mysterious host within a matter of minutes. 

But not you. He intrigues you too much, and though you’ve been tempted to drown yourself in the pleasure offered up on all sides, your quest to find Ten is more important. 

Not so important that you can’t enjoy yourself as you search though. Jaehyun is good company, and the two of you mingle amongst the other guests. As you drift along, you meet people you would never believe were really there, had really talked with you, were it not for the reputation that Ten’s extravaganzas held and the fact that you had seen them with your own eyes. Actors, musicians, the richest of the rich, all to be found in the same house at the same time. Supposedly he knew many of them personally and had genuinely invited them. Many of the stories you’ve heard sounded more like they were just fantasies that had been made up with the help of some strong liquor and many expensive looking partygoers, but it seemed as though there was more truth to them than expected. Ten was a strange figure, and while most just take advantage of the numerous bars and sensually lit gardens, you’re itching to get to the bottom of the mystery that is Ten Lee. 

After several hours of drifting here and there in the house, you and Jaehyun find your way down to the gardens. The party still rages on the lawns, though there are a few less people and a bit more space. It's just as well lit as inside, and the alcohol flows just as plentily. Your surroundings are somewhat more tame, as people have more space to move around and less reason to do so. 

After exploring the gardens for a while, you nudge Jaehyun and tell him that your feet have begun to feel tired, after all standing around in heels for several hours isn’t exactly the most fun you’ve ever had. The two of you find a place to sit quickly, and you settle at a table already set up with a small group. A company of eight gorgeous figures sit there, several paired off with a partner equally as stunning on their arm. (You have to wonder; were only those perceived by the host as beautiful invited? What of those who just showed up?) Irene is among them, the reason you had decided on this particular table. She shares a drink with the driver from earlier, talking with you when necessary though most of her attention was focused on the man on her right. You sit to her left, with Jaehyun on yours. Swirling your drink around, you do your best to pay attention to Irene, although it’s not going so well. 

Something, or someone, has caught your eye. 

Your attention is brought back to the conversation you’re supposed to be participating in when Irene laughs一a high pitched sound that could be perceived as either mellifluous or grating depending on your temperament一as tonight’s beaux says something that’s supposed to be funny. You don’t think he’s particularly humorous but half heartedly play along anyway, eyes unabashedly set on the man sitting across the table and to the right a bit. 

He’s truly ethereal, both in looks and mannerisms. With a sharp and elegantly curved nose, dark hair swept tastefully to the side, and a sparkle of something dangerous you can’t quite place but find attractive anyway in his catlike eyes, he draws stares not just from you, but all across the garden. The sharp contrasting colors of his tuxedo seem to brighten his honeyed skin, his every movement graceful as he entrances you, all dazzling smiles and pretty features. 

You can tell that he’s so much more than that though. There are layers and layers to this man, all hidden just below the surface, and you feel the desire to claw your way into him and analyse every bit swelling somewhere in the back of your mind as he catches your eyes locked on him. His smile grows just the slightest bit before he turns back to the light flirtation he seemed to be pressing upon the woman next to him.

Though he had been an ideal partner for the earlier parts of the night, Jaehyun is almost forgotten in the presence of this new man. However, not so much that you don’t notice his attention drifting to another table. Watching his line of vision, you locate the young woman he has his eyes set on. She’s not hard to find, beautiful even compared to the other guests she’s gathered with. Wearing a slinky red dress topped with a fur shawl, she’s certainly quite the sight to see, and your companion has been observing her for a while now. 

It appears you weren’t what he was looking for after all. 

“Jaehyun,” you say, sipping on your drink delicately, “You should go on without me for a bit. I see how you’re eyeing the bar over there.” 

It’s a lie. His eyes flick from you back in the direction the woman in red was for just a second, and though it barely happened, a subtle movement that seemed instinctive, ot’s enough to give him away. Though he does his best not to show it you can see the recognition that you’ve seen through his show of keeping his eyes solely on you dawning in his eyes. 

“Ahh, but I shouldn’t leave you alone.” Still the same gentleman you met in the back of the automobile. Or perhaps he was just putting up appearances, there was no way to tell. It didn’t really matter anyway, you had your sights set on something higher than the possibility of the deeper fragments of this man’s personality. 

“I’ll be fine,” you wave off his concerns nonchalantly. “I’m not alone anyway, I’ve got Irene here!” At the sound of her name your friend looks over, leaning on the tabe slightly as she sends a wink at you and Jaehyun. 

You read the wink as more of a “I see you eyeing your man, if you don’t disappear with him it’s quite a shame and I might just take the responsibility upon myself,” although you were hoping Jaehyun, who you assumed was unused to Irene’s wiley charms, would see it as more of a “I’ve got Y/n, you go on now.” 

Either way, he seemed to take the hint, although he remained reluctant. 

You pat his arm, “You go and have fun, Jaehyun, I don’t want to drag you down.”

“Not at all,” he replied gently, and it seemed to you almost calculated the way his eyes didn’t stray from you in the moment. You weren’t sure why he was bothering to keep up the premise that he would be returning, that his interest in you hadn’t evaporated the moment the fur shawled woman pulled his attention to her the very first time. You both knew, and no one around you was aware enough of their surroundings to pay you any attention. But no matter, it wasn’t important to you.

“Well,” his words are hesitant, as if unsure of his decision, “if you insist. Would you like me to grab you anything?” 

“No, no, thank you but I’m alright.”

As he stands up and pushes his chair back into place, Jaehyun gives you one last look. It’s apologetic, he isn’t particularly proud of the way he was just leaving you for someone a bit more flashy and boisterous. But again, you don’t care. He can either deal with the guilt in the morning or drink enough to forget the whole night, it was no longer your problem. It hadn’t been since you locked eyes with the pretty man across the table. 

Before Jaehyun was even out of sight the man you had been watching across the table catches your gaze once again. This time he stands and sidles over to the chair on your left that Jaehyun had abandoned moments before, sitting lightly beside you. 

“Good evening.” His voice, low and silky with a hint of an accent you can’t quite recognize, would have knocked you right over if you were the swooning main character of some unrealistic romance film. He takes your hand and presses it to his lips, a coy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Might I ask whose presence I’ve been graced with tonight?” he inquires, and you tell him your name. “Miss Y/n,” he repeats. "Pretty." You raise an eyebrow at this, enjoying his efforts nonetheless. 

“And you? What’s your name?” 

He merely hums in response. “Has anyone told you that you look gorgeous tonight darling?” You let his avoidance slide, momentarily moving on. Some people wished to not reveal themselves, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t continue to enjoy his company.

“They have, in fact,” you say, thinking back to Jaehyun. You glance across the room but he’s long gone, the woman dressed in red having disappeared as well. 

“As it should be.”

Your attention is drawn back to your current suitor, and the nights former flirtations are quickly forgotten as conversation strikes up between the two of you. Every other word out of his is some flirtation or another, and you absolutely bask in the attention that the cat eyed man lays on you. His forearms are leaned on the table, and he’s staring up at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re sure that your face mirrors his, but in your case it’s true. He really is the most strikingly beautiful human being you’ve ever had the pleasure to set eyes on. And for the moment, he’s all yours. 

There’s something oddly familiar about him though, and the fact that you can’t figure out why is rubbing you the wrong way. It would be quite impossible to forget a face like that. The feeling is not so much recognition as it is that odd niggling feeling of deja vu that plagues your thoughts in a situation that you know you’ve never experienced before. You try to stay slightly wary of his presence, but he’s downright entrancing and your focus slips to his stunning features every time you feel like you’re approaching the answer as to who he is. 

You’re unsure of how much time has passed when he leans closer to you, lips brushing lightly against the hair falling over your ear. “Perhaps we could find somewhere we could talk a little bit more一” He sets a hand on your waist and a shiver runs up your spine一 “privately.” 

You grin slyly as he pulls away, awaiting an answer with his own smirk. 

“It would be my pleasure.” You glance over to Irene, thinking you should let her know that you would be sneaking off for a while, but she was already gone.

And so, all suspicion tossed right out the window, you follow this handsome stranger. His arm tucked securely around yours, the two of you dash up through the bright gardens, whisking by the tables full of couples making eyes at each other and under the pretty strings of lights, up the lawn and once again through the french doors, still wide open, although with less people flooding in and out. You duck through the crowd of people still meandering around in the foyer, expertly weaving around dancers and drinkers. He takes you through the ballrooms and up a few grand sets of grand staircases, which you certainly would have tripped down were it not for the tight grip he had now moved to your waist. 

“You seem to know your way around quite well, do you come here often?” you inquire as you slip down a hallway that was mostly devoid of guests. 

That odd, dangerous glint you saw when you first caught sight of him reappeared in his eyes. “You could say that,” he chuckled.

Before you could wrap your head around what that meant he was pulling you into a spacious bedroom at the end of the hall and letting his hold on you cease to draw the door shut behind him. You turn away from him and marvel at the bedroom he had chosen. The room (which you assume to be a spare) is although fairly simple obviously belonging to someone extremely wealthy. 

A pretty chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and you have the feeling that the cufflinks scattered across the desk and the edging of the mirror above the vanity might just be real gold. You can see expensive velvet peeking out of the slightly ajar wardrobe, and just from glancing at them think the bedsheets to be silk. 

The only light in the room comes from the golden gleam of the gardens spilling through the french windows. The pretty glow gives the moment a sensuous and romantic feel, and you turn back to the cat-eyed man. He basks in the golden light, as if he knows that it's good to his complexion, accentuating the honeyed tone of his skin and shining in his hair. 

A hopeful smile works it’s way across your face, a gleam of eros in your eye as you take a step closer to him, hoping he doesn’t turn out to be a total bore like many of the men you meet at parties. A matching desire shows on his face, fingers reaching up to begin working at the black material of his bowtie. He expertly undoes the knot, and tosses the inconsequential scrap of fabric to the side. 

Placing a hand on your waist, he draws you towards himself as he takes small steps backwards, eventually landing against the wall with a slight thud. Your arms wind their way around his neck, and you press yourself up against him, sandwiching his lithe body between yours and the wall. 

As he traces your features with his eyes, a slight change occurs deep within them, a darkness pooling in his pupils and that familiar hint of danger from earlier making itself present once again. 

The corners of his mouth tug upwards slightly, and as he leans forward you tilt your head to nudge your nose against his, eyes fluttering shut. You meet him halfway, lips pressed together in a light kiss, almost as if you were just testing the waters, unsure as to whether you were truly interested. 

And, come to find out, you definitely were. His mouth was soft on yours, keeping your pace for the moment. You draw back for a moment, taking a breath and reinitiating the kiss, plunging yourself into his mysterious depths. 

He tastes of secrecy and some sweet cordial you can’t quite place, and you have never known something quite so heavenly. The heavy feeling of his mouth on yours is addictive, all your senses alight at once, and your hands grasp the lapels of his jacket, trying to draw him closer despite there being no space left between you. 

“What should I call you?” you whisper against his lips as you come up for air. His eyes flick open, meeting your own as you take a step back and pull him along to slip your hands under the shoulders of his jacket. He chuckles slightly, detaching your hold on him to undo the button and slip out of his jacket, hanging it over the back of the chair before the vanity. 

“That doesn’t matter.” His hands resume their rightful place on your waist, one sliding down to your hip and drawing you into his figure. “Just enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, trust me,” you press a kiss to his jaw, taking his hand and slinking out of his embrace to place yourself on the end of the bed, “I am.” (You don’t notice until later, but the sheets were in fact silk.)

You tug him along to where you sit, bringing him forward and between your knees. You tilt your head upward as your hands come to rest on his waist, sealing your lips together again. 

You lose yourself to him, the feeling of his thin, wandering fingers tracing your silhouette and the way he pays the same amount of attention to every inch of your body, as if he was trying to memorize every dip and curve of your figure under the silk of your dress. The sweet taste of his mouth entrances you, and when he moves to press his lips to your neck or the line of your jaw between long winded kisses you feel as though you’ve ascended. 

Time no longer exists in the muted bubble of a third floor bedroom in an unfamiliar house. Perhaps it’s only been seconds, and maybe you’ve been locking lips with a handsome stranger for hours, the party melting away to make way for dawn to dutifully traipse her way into the sky. Nothing matters anymore, you’re far too immersed in the passion of the moment to pay much attention to anything other than your unnamed lover. 

Though in reality it’s only physical, he’s explored you so much that you feel with each slide of his tongue against yours he reveals another one of your secrets, one of your stories, something only you know. Despite the intimate impersonality of finding a lover in a stranger, despite the illusion of invasiveness that his careful movements bring, you want to fully surrender yourself to this feeling. Breaking a particularly lengthy kiss, he presses on your shoulder to get you to lean back, and you rest your weight on one hand behind you, the other busy clutching at the silky strands of his hair. 

“You know,” you say, words broken in between the slotting of your mouths back together, “I came to this party in search of the ever so elusive Ten Lee, but goodness一” you press a particularly sloppy kiss to his lips, and he hisses as you tug gently on his hair一 “I do believe I’ve found something much better.”

“Oh, darling, don’t you see?” He presses on your shoulder again, and you fall back to sprawl yourself across the bed. He hovers over you, dipping to kiss the corner of your mouth. “I am Ten.” 

With a smirk that would haunt you for the rest of your days, he gives you one last mindblowing kiss before evaporating into the shadows of the room, straightening the black vest he wore and slipping his suit jacket back on. As you pushed yourself back up so you were supported by your hands behind you, dazed and trying to comprehend what he had just whispered against your skin, Ten turned to look at you. He threw you one last look, a dangerous, beautiful look, before slinking out the door, back into the whirlwind of dancing and debauchery. 

That night would never leave your mind. 

No matter how many parties you attended, no matter how many men circulated through your life, no matter how much you drank, you could never forget Ten. And you’ve tried. He would forever live in your mind, fleeting thoughts of a bedroom flooded with golden light, of his discarded suit jacket, of that gleam in his eyes the first time you saw him.

It would take you many years and much consideration to finally figure out what that look in his eye was, that strange mirth you had never seen another wearing. Later in life, when you’re much wiser and have experienced more than your younger self who met Ten could even imagine, it comes to you one day. You realise that he seemed to find as much pleasure in the facade he presented to the world, the fanciful rumors and scandalous whispers that followed him like a shadow, as he did in the heated intimacy you shared in a darkened bedroom one night of the Roaring Twenties. 

You would attend many more parties held in that mansion, sometimes dragged along by Irene, sometimes finding yourself there alone and unsure of why a somewhat faded memory keeps leading you back here. Every time, you held onto a fleeting hope that you could see just a glance, a sliver of the man you met that fateful night. But as much as you held onto the notion that you would see him again someday, you knew it was foolish. Ten’s reputation preceded him, and he liked to uphold that reputation. 

True to your logic, Ten would never make himself known to you again. For years you would search, a futile attempt to prove to yourself he wasn’t just something you dreamed up in the haze of alcohol and the feeling of weightlessness one can only find on Long Island Sound on Saturday nights as the extravagant parties thrown by a man who rarely showed his face rage on. 

Ten Lee, larger than life, beautiful, nebulous Ten Lee, truly was elusive, barely more than a shadow to his grand reputation.

[peachyydesires]

im so excited for the fourth of july event!!! can i get 😈 with keiji please??

a/n: hi there anon!! tysm for requesting, i’m really excited too! here’s the beloved man himself <3 

😈Alcohol Use (Anything to do with alcohol)

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

★oh no.. you just KNOW this man is drinking the entire party

★he was the one that picked out the drinks for the bar, so he’s basically there 24/7 getting refills 

★he won’t get completely smashed until later into the night when the alcohol really begins to kick in 

★you can guarantee that he embarrasses himself at least 5+ times; he’ll do the stupidest stunts, such as diving into the pool, chugging cans of beers, nearly burning his fingers off with a sparkler, etc. 

★it’s no big surprise when his friends start to play pranks on him, especially considering the fact that he won’t remember anything in the morning 

★pushing him into the pool, throwing last-minute water balloons from earlier at him, blowing confetti poppers in front of his face, really anything is fair game at this point

★the more… responsible ones of the group would try to keep him from drinking any more, but somehow he just keeps appearing with drinks in his hands

★honestly it’s probably sou secretly sneaking him drinks from the bar just so he can see him embarrass himself more for the fun of it 

★someone like sara or kai would try and keep him away from the minors (specifically gin) so he wouldn’t influence them but honestly everybody’s seen it all already

★then again he’s pretty much the life of the party along with q-taro so nobody gets mad at him in the end

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

   “Pleaase? Just one kiss, right here?” Keiji pleaded, tapping his lips impatiently as he leaned closer to you with a tipsy, gleeful smile attached to his face. He easily toppled over you, and while usually, you’d be eager to kiss him, you refused to do so in front of everyone, especially while he was drunk. 

   “No, you stink. I’m not kissing you when you have alcohol-breath... How many drinks did you even have?” You asked, pinching your nose as his scent wafted over you. No matter how much you loved him, you still never got used to the wretched smell of alcohol that he would sometimes come home with.

   “Uhhhh, I don’t know… Maybe, like..” He began counting on his fingers, a somewhat thoughtful look on his face as he counted before responding, “Counting shots, 20-ish?” 

   You groaned, grabbing his hand again as you began walking towards the backdoor, “You’re going to be absolutely miserable tomorrow morning. What did I tell you about drinking tonight?” You scolded.

   “Whyy would I be miserable, sugar? I got you right here with me.” He hummed as you looked over your shoulder, noticing his goofy, drunken smile that lit up his tired face. You sighed, shaking your head as you just couldn’t stay mad at him no matter what.

   After the fireworks had gone off, you had momentarily lost your boyfriend, Keiji, amid the crowded chaos in the backyard of the house party. You didn’t know how or when he had gotten absolutely wrecked, but when you found him he was singing Kumbaya with Sou, and you weren’t exactly sure how that had even happened.

   You had managed to drag him away from Sou, but whenever he got drunk he would become extremely needy for affection, constantly begging for hugs and kisses from you as you urged him that it was time to leave. 

   You lead him through the house, mumbling goodbyes to your scattered friends as you tried to keep Keiji from embarrassing himself any further. But before you could get out the door, your boyfriend suddenly tugged at your hand and beelined for the nearby couch.

   “K-Keiji!” You shrieked as he pulled the two of you onto the sofa, “We need to go home, dummy!” 

   “Noo, aren’t you… aren’t you drunk too?” 

   “Well, yeah, a little bit, but not a-”

   “Exactly, you can’t drink and drive, cuutie,” He interrupted as his hands began to freely roam over your body, eventually settling themselves on your stomach as he wrapped his arms around your frame and pulled you closer to his body. 

   Despite him being shirtless after diving into the pool, he was surprisingly warm. It was quite the enticing invitation, as you didn’t want to take the long drive home just yet. You sighed, knowing there was no way out of his arms once he started getting clingy as you rolled over onto your stomach.

   Your cheeks burned at the thought of someone seeing the two of you passed out on the couch, but there was no other option as you hid your face in his chest and prayed that you wouldn’t be easily recognized, “You owe me for this one, Keiji.” You grumbled, your voice muffled by his skin.

   His embrace only got tighter as he rolled onto his side and pressed a light kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on the top of your head. He let out a breathy sigh, completely at ease as a relaxed smile stayed glued to his face.

   “Ooof course, my little lady. Anything for you.”

[jjkpls]

*** On Fire (m)

> genre : smut, pwp

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f) x ot6

> total words : 4.9k

> warnings/content : established relationship, voyeurism, exhibitionism, penetrative intercourse, impregnation kink, spitting, some dirty talk, low-key crack, this is filthy (im so sorry bangtan), bad editing

You had been going at it since the fucking beginning of this evening. It started in what you thought to be subtle touches and shared heated gazes. A hand brushing over one’s covered cock, a bigger one pretending to accidentally slip too high up under a skirt. You sincerely believed yourselves to be discreet enough and would only whisper honey-dipped obscenities against the very shell of the ears, quiet enough for no one else to hear.

The cameras luckily had missed it, the uncountable number of people they'd met and had to shake hands with and bow to did not notice either. However, they had not missed one second of it all. Every single one of them. Because there were heavy sighs and suspicious lingering absences from the conversations. Because you stood too close to each other to an extent it narrowly dipped in the innapropriate. You were trying to satiate a craving you felt for each other, as decently as possible. It was obvious to them.

Soon enough, the event had ended and you were all crowding up a van on your way home, Jungkook and you not withholding any longer the urges to indulge into each other. The hands were fully grabbing, sloppy mouths loudly sucking and drooling on the other’s neck, cheeks, ears, collarbones.

You had waited for an eternity to meet back again after Jungkook and his band were gone on tour for months. It was long and testing. Especially during the very last weeks, when the date would not approach fast enough. As an attempt to compensate the missing, hundreds of messages, textual and vocal, pictures more or less racy were exchanged. It did help soften the aching for an instant, but inevitably, it proved to be an unforgiving teasing, growing immensely the agony instead of healing it.

And then, there you were. The two of you face to face without a stupid computer screen and thousands of kilometres between you, yet you had to wait a little longer to jump on each other and finally, finally sink in your mutual heavens.

It’s Yoongi who had stopped you first. He was also the only one. They were all sitting there, disconcerted, witnessing more or less willingly the scene unfolding, their interest uncontrollably piqued maybe because they were horny too, mostly because they’d never seen their younger brother act this way. The usually cute dongsaeng, mischievous but well-behaved, blushing at each mention of his first girlfriend, now domineering said girlfriend with a new darkness they’d never seen on him. They could tell from how deep he sank his fingers into your flesh, leaving red marks to linger for minutes after they had left to abuse another part; from how he’d hover over you, purposefully making himself look bigger and wider and you'd lean in, shoulders hunched forward, bending over yourself and shaping your body in a tiny little form nuzzling into him; and the aura, he oozed darkness and sultry and almost meanness as he would watch you squirm in desperation and moan pleadingly, eyes already shining with tears and cheeks red, he was relishing in your suffering.

Therefore Yoongi just had to say something. Because the six men had been pretending not to be troubled, trying to keep up with pointless conversing but eventually faking obliviousness became too hard and they were getting too distracted to keep up with the random conversations. Yoongi's low rumble of a voice just had to intervene, break the silence made of heated whispering and smacking of wet lips and fiddling of offending layers of clothing, to tell you two to ‘fucking behave’.

You obeyed, for the most part, limiting the touching to holding hands and you remained settled and silence for the rest of the ride. Only the best observers -Jimin and Seokjin, mostly- could notice that the hands turned white from how hard they clutched at one another and the eyes that couldn’t part away were sharing all sorts of secret discussions that kept you on. You didn’t rest. You complied for you didn't want the simple warning to turn into a full fight, Yoongi sounded already strained to the extreme. But you kept each other hot and bothered, just by looks and quiet promises to be met later. They were all thankful for the apparent halt in your activities as the air of the van had started feeling like a fucking tension-filled sauna in which it had become hard to even fucking breathe in. Little did they know, it was not going to be the end of the incident for the night.

Once arrived home, after a very fulfilling quick live stream that allowed the band to share their happiness with their public who made them won an umpteenth award earlier, you were all feeling newly energized, high on the bliss of pride and success and love. It was just too early to go to bed already. Especially when the group hasn't been able to really sit down around a meal and some beer and chat away the night like they used to do, back in the beginning, when time was still a thing they were lucky to be granted with. It wasn't so much the case anymore. They were busy but beyond that, they had grown and often, other interests, other hobbies, other people came in the way and they had to devote their precious free time elsewhere than the dorm.

But here they were reunited and free for once and there was no getting out of it for anyone. Jungkook's reluctance couldn't do anything against his hyungs' nagging and cursing, and even if it seemed to break his heart, peering at his girlfriend, looking so pretty and wanting him the way he wanted her, so bad, he accepted. She wasn't mad about it. She was smiling softly at him, tilting her head slightly to the side in a complaisant way. He was though. The nervous bouncing of his leg and the prominence of his set jawline attested. It was too much wait, just too much torture. When you were so fucking close. When he almost had you in the car.

His sanity and the remains of his decency were hanging by a thread. The tiniest, flimsiest piece of thread. And something snapped it. They wouldn't know what. Not that they're that preoccupied about questioning and reasoning right now. Either way it snapped, and so suddenly, the two of you who were supposed to head to the kitchen to bring some of the empty bottles and bring some more to the group, have stopped halfway at some point and ended up heavily making out against the dining table.

It's less than twenty feet away. So close the six young men can see everything from the couches, they can hear you. The wet mouths, the moans. It's worse than it was back in the van, now pressing each other so tight with a different intention. You're not trying to comfort each other, to try and bath in as much as you can of each other's warmth that you had missed for so long. You're aiming to find a release. It's obvious from the way you grip at one another's body, hands pulling always harder, always further, body grinding like you've already started to fuck.

Is this a punishment? For having held you back from each other for longer than absolutely necessary? Because it feels like torture to them. When they know they don't have anyone in their bedrooms waiting for them. When they know the hassle it is to find someone to share an intimate moment with given their particular circumstances their idol life put them in, and that, no matter how much of a exertion they invest into it, there's no way they're getting laid any time soon. Jungkook has it all and is rubbing it in their face. It's so mean, and purposeful, why would he chose this very place to ravage his girlfriend's mouth down to her throat when he could decide to not listen to them -like he already does all the fucking time-, excuse himself and take you away to his stupid closet of a bedroom to have you there, behind closed doors -like any sensible human would chose to do. Well, any sensible human except for exhibitionists. They don't know him to be one. They actually believe their youngest member to be quite the opposite of an exhibitionist. If he likes to peek at a friend in the shower or stare at another one's built when they're changing clothes, he hates exposing himself. Supposedly. There Namjoon realizes that maybe you're so buzzed and so enticed by each other, you might have forgotten the six of them were still in the room, sitting on the couches, not only able to see but actually watching.

“They’re not really going to... do it here, right?” Seokjin is the first one to ask. His whisper of a question sounds mildly embarrassed but there’s a tiny tinge of curiosity hidden under the surface. Namjoon catches it with relief. He would never admit it out loud and he would do anything in his power to hide it, but, yeah, he’d like to see that happen. 

“Of course, they will!” It’s probably the alcohol running through Jimin’s veins that speaks.

The beverage associated with his already questionable shameless manners spurs Namjoon’s saneness back to life. If tipsy Park Jimin seems so excited about the idea, chances are it is wrong. He is quick to grab the shorter guy by the shoulders, forbidding him to stroll his way to the couple heavily making out now on the dining table. 

“The real question is why are we watching?” Namjoon asks, voice lower than it should be for unconsciously he doesn't want them to hear.

The question is rhetorical. Having been the leader for almost a decade now, he knows how to talk to his team for them to understand what he means. And by that, obviously, he doesn’t mean to question their morals but to order them all out of the room. But he’s fucking stressed out as one can imagine, and one of the little entities living in his head, the one conveniently shaped like his own cock, is pestering that they should stay. They need to see this. It's better porn than he would ever be able to purchase -and that's saying a lot since his bank account would allow him to buy literally all of the porn available on Earth. He's just troubled by one thing: why is he turned on? How can he feel like it'd be ok to watch his younger brother-of-another-mother fuck? Shouldn't he be disgusted? Disturbed? Are they that comfortable with each other, having lived together for so many years, shared so many intense moments that they're completely uninhibited with one another? Or is he that much of a freak? He can't think. Hardly can process any sensible thought. He knows what he is supposed to say but his urges don't match. Therefore, his voice comes out unusually soft and unsure. And he understands that they all seem to believe it’s just a conversation opener since none of them is bulging a muscle. 

“No, the real question is why do they think they can shag on our fucking dining table!” That’s when Namjoon is confirmed, once again, that Yoongi is a better man than he, himself, will ever be. Everybody paints him as the perfect picture of wisdom and sensibility and intelligence but when it comes down to it, he still gets riled up and rather weak whenever his cock is affected.

When he stands frozen, mouth hardly muttering a half-ass suggestion, Yoongi is already marching to the couple. Slapping Jungkook on the back of his head, he looks about ready to resolve the situation. 

Jungkook whirls around and stares with a scowl, eyebrows frowned over his dark eyes and jaws tight. He looks like a dog whose bone almost got stolen from him and as his nostrils flare, Yoongi realizes he might actually bite him. “Fuck off, hyung.” It kills Yoongi to back away. His ego has just been bruised like never before. Not only does he hardly ever gets told off, he certainly never has been by his dongsaeng four years younger than him. And there’s the goddamn audience assisting to it too. Fuck, as soon as this kid stops acting like a fucking werewolf on withdrawal, he’s going to beat his fucking ass. He just has the time to gulp and take a few cautionary steps backwards, rejoining the rest of the group, for Jungkook’s attention to be back on his girl.

You two are talking silently again. You nod, he leans into you to lick your jaw before he’s grabbing your hips to pivot you. You know, as if you’ve done this a million times before, to lie down on the surface, your arms tucked nicely to your sides, tiny hands clenching around nothing in anticipation as you offer your ass for Jungkook to undress. It takes him less than a second to throw your skirt over your back and drag your panties along your thighs. He’s so harsh. Even they can tell from the light pink rashes tracing the side of your leg. But you seem to love it. You're shaking your now uncovered ass for him, for them all to see, uncaring of the loud gasps that follow the first glimpse of your pink and wet slit. Jungkook is loving it, grinning widely, taking his time to take out his member. He chuckles when the strap of his belt hit your cheek and it makes you moan and fidget on the tip of your toes. 

“Please, baby...”

Your boyfriend shakes his head, sighing out loud in disapproval. “I know. Be patient.” He chastises softly. 

All eyes and hands on your body, kneading pressingly your flesh, dwelling his whole into feeling you, feeling your touch, your skin, your arousal, your love, Jungkook can’t possibly be addressing to anyone else but you. They're not so sure how conscious he is that they can see everything but he must know. Jimin is sure he does as he smiles to himself like a proud dad watching the way Jungkook owns you, the way you're hanging at the tip of his very breath, dependent completely of him and lenient to his every touch. Jungkook is all yours too, it's obvious. Surely he can't be addressing them. However, his comment makes a few of them blush and squirm uncomfortably. It just hits too closely.

Taehyung has been internally screaming for the past five minutes, dying to see this pretty pussy rammed. Namjoon, eyes wet behind his glasses, feels like he might begin crying if you don’t start doing something loud and disruptive and attention-grabbing enough for him to be able to wrap his hand around his dick and just lose some of the tension without bringing all of his friends' focus on him. And Jimin is bouncing on his feet, desperately needing to come forward and see better and perhaps even touch. His fingers are twitching in the air, rings clashing each other in the quiet room, the only thing holding him back is Namjoon’s hands still wrapped on his shoulders, now squeezing hard. Yoongi is getting even more pissed if possible, especially because the nervous shaking of Hoseok's leg sitting just next to him makes it seem like the moment drags on forever, and he is about to snap, forgetting entirely about the earlier episode. Just when he opens his mouth to say something, Jungkook is puckering his own to spit on the head of his cock. There’s an audible choke coming from somewhere in the audience. Jungkook spits again, this time aiming for your hole and they can all hear distinctly a strangled fuck. There Namjoon realizes that they're so engrossed in what's happening, so desperate not to miss the highly-anticipated moment Jungkook would start entering you, they don't even dare look away for a split second to try and figure out who's the one getting triggered by the lewd gesture. He could slip a hand inside his pants. There's no way they'd care or even notice. But he would know. He'd know he was the first one to do so and he's simply not too keen on the idea.

They are more than two moans released in the open as Jungkook fills you up with the entirety of his length and just sits there. 

“Do you need me to go fetch you a condom, Kook?” Jimin asks. Frankly, it's not him offering as the caring person he is known to be. He asks because he’d give anything to have an excuse to just get somewhat closer. Yoongi eyes him scornfully and Namjoon thinks he knows why. Either he's pissed that Jimin would be so careless, so comfortable to basically allow himself to sneak in the action, or he's pissed that Jimin might have brought so much attention on them that Jungkook suddenly sobers up, realizes what the fuck he is doing and stops the show altogether. To his, and everyone else's surprise, the boy peers over his shoulder, answering naturally -like they're in the middle of a casual conversation about what he'd prefer to wear for a concert or some shit.

“I don’t use condoms, hyung.” Jungkook looks so confused, eyebrows crooked in a puzzled fashion, as his hips slowly roll against his girlfriend. Looking like the sole idea of considering willingly slipping the rubber protection on one’s cock is outrageous and unthinkable.

Taehyung has to squeeze his eyes shut, throw his head back and sighs the deepest exhale of air to contain himself. He can't believe what he's just heard. There's still the tiny, progressively growing whimpers of yours that bring him back to the present and he can't help but let a word slips out. “Fuck.” He sounds mad, voice lower and huskier than it's ever been. So deep and strained by the tension his whole body is seized by, it almost sounds like a growl from a demonic creature.

That's how he feels anyway. Sinful. Jungkook and you are the ones exposing yourselves to them. You didn't even ask if they wanted to see, you started doing it all on your own. You're the dirty ones. The unholy ones. But he feels like he's the same, if not even worse, when the grossest thoughts start sprouting madly in his brain. Thoughts about what you've been up to behind closed doors until now.

You don't wear condoms. Why the fuck is that? He remembers Jungkook coming to him once with a particular question he had to redirect to Namjoon because he just didn't know enough to answer him properly. And with the flushed cheeks and the most labored stutter, Jungkook had asked their leader if he knew something about long-term contraception. And Taehyung, naively, had thought that Jungkook was asking because he was worried about their youth and their career and you're never too prudent when it comes to contraception. He just couldn't take the risk to have a ripped-condom accident and end up with a pregnant girlfriend. Taehyung thought that was all it was about. But it's never been about that, Taehyung comes to realize. He wanted to fuck you raw. He wanted to feel your walls directly onto his dick, feel your wetness, and claim you by soaking your walls with his cum, didn't he? Taehyung wonders who's the one who's the most into it. He would have never imagined you to be so fucking filthy but he can't deny it anymore. Not when he sees your hands reach backwards, nails scratching desperately at your boyfriend's asscheeks to bring him deeper. Taehyung gulps audibly, one giant hand covering entirely his crotch, just the tip of his fingers discreetly teasing the head of his cock. He bets his briefs are soaked. It's just his imagination, but the thought of you wanting Jungkook to soil you like that drives him crazy.

He wouldn't know but the same conclusion has set in the five other men's head. They felt weird, inappropriate for being so turned on, for just thinking about staying there to watch but you're lewd. They've just confirmed how depraved you are. And they have no doubt left about it when the second Jungkook has set a cruising speed pace that allows you to breathe, you twist around so you could face them and see all of their eyes on you. 

And all of their eyes are on you. They’re not ashamed or abashed or mannerly anymore, obnoxiously ogling, meeting your own fluttering gaze with no sense of embarrassment left because you're probably dirtier, and the things running through your head and the other things you've been up to with Jungkook are probably dirtier than all of their experiences put together.

Hoseok thinks he can see it in your eyes. For some reason, they are set on him. He feels he might be tripping. Wishful thinking making him believe that your attention is set on him solely when really, you're immersing in what the six of them are granting you equally. But it really does look like it. Like you want him. Like you'd want more if it wasn't too much to ask. What they are witnessing is not the full extent of your greed and depravity, there'd be more if you could. Your eyes are begging him. Begging him to watch, to not waver away from you, to not even do much as think about something else and just spend his whole on you. Perhaps actually begging him to touch you.

Currently, he’s watching you with a predatory gaze you've only seen him wear on stage, with cheeks crimson from arousal and from the rolling of your eyes, the silent gap of your swollen mouth, it’s killing you. Hoseok winces at how compressed his rock hard dick feels inside his too-tight jeans. His slender hand has to dive for it -he's a grown-ass man and it's ridiculous to pretend he's not affected and his willing stronger when he knows, he knows they all are as worked up as he is. He grazes the length of his cock, dragging the tissue of his pants along it with the gesture. But the head is so sensitive that it hurts. He knows the only way to make it feel good would be to take it out and take care of it properly, with at least his precum as lube. No one is doing it though. And there's no fucking way he's going to be the first to pull his cock out in front of them all. Fucking hell. He knows you want it too. The way your gaping lips seems to attempt to wrap around words. They quiver. You have something to tell him but for whatever reason, you can't. Shame? Perhaps. It seems ridiculous but maybe there's still some left in you. After all, you've always been kind of shy around him.

“Shit, you love that, don’t you?” They're all snapped out of a daze when they hear the low voice of Jungkook. It's deeper than usual, kind of resembling the one tone he uses when he wants to pretend he's a rapper. And he curses, so naturally so, as if he does it all the time when really, they hardly ever hear him do so. “Having all my hyungs watching you getting fucked like that, you’re clenching so- uh, fuck!” You mewl, attempting to answer but are quick to give up as it seems pointless and all you wish to do is devote yourself to the pleasure. The rolling of your eyes is pretty telling anyway. 

“We love watching you, doll.” Most heads turn to Namjoon who can feel his cheeks immediately start to burn. He’s not sure if he meant to say it out loud but he did and he doesn’t regret any of the words. When he focuses his attention back on your ass, and the delicious trembling of your cheeks each time Jungkook beats his hips hard against it, he couldn’t care less about the embarrassment. He doesn’t have to be ashamed anyway. Seokjin, he can see it from the corner of his eye, is really into it too, and this to an extent he couldn’t even have guessed. Seokjin is usually so detached and reserved when it comes to this -sex and partners- he wouldn’t have deemed him naughty in any way. He would even have expected him to start a scene and nag on the top of his head, neck scarlet in anger, about how this is fucking obscene and disgraceful. He always thought him to be the perfect embodiment of innocence and purity. Yet he’s so enthralled. Leaning forward, hips mindlessly following the rhythm of the coit, one of his large hand pressed firmly on his closed crotch, he’s not even blinking. Namjoon wouldn’t know because he’s too far and his eyes suck but what Seokjin's can see is incredible. He’s mesmerized by the sprinkles of sweat, beaten away from your skin, from how strongly Jungkook's strong thighs are hitting you.

This is ridiculous. You fuck like porn stars.

But you're not. And the difference shows in that you don’t have to keep going at it for hours to make sure to have all the good angles and drag it long enough for the money to be bigger. All you care about is getting off, it's obvious, from the frenetic movement, the panting, the whining. You're like two horny dogs in rut. All you care about and all you need is that climax. And it's probably so close already with this whole... situation. When you're exposing your kinkiness for them, the older brothers who've always seen you two as innocent, cute babies, going at it like rabbits, they can imagine how arousing it must be for you.

Slipping the hand that was gripping your hair to your front, collecting the slick spread all over your skin, Jungkook proceeds to abuse your clit as he keeps on fucking into you as punishingly as he can. It takes you a few instants to come undone, crying out loud as the wave of your orgasm shakes your whole body and your boyfriend follows right behind you, unable to handle the pressure of your walls along with your sinful moans. He’s shuddering against you as he milks his cum inside, taking his time to slip out. Again, Taehyung is left to wonder for whom he's doing it. He looks like he's trying to make sure none of his given seed will spill and he needs to know if it's you or him who so badly needs it to stay inside.

Jungkook exhales hard as he lets himself fall butt-naked on a nearby chair. Your legs are still shivering, assaulted by tiny spasms, you have to hold yourself upright by the tenuous strength left in your hands which are gripping the other edge of the table. Jungkook has a hand just sitting on your ass, he has the intention but not enough force remaining to drag you to him so you could seat and let your legs rest.

“Here.” You look up to see Jimin, standing next to you, he’s sliding a cup of freshwater to touch the burning skin of your arm. You feel so scorching hot you almost expect steam to rise out of the contact. As you reach for it, with difficulty, Jimin pulls a chair closer to you, a hand replacing the skirt on your behind before helping you sit. The tension gets even tighter as he does so. Jungkook is observing him with eagle eyes, obviously waiting for his friend to overstep boundaries and get from you more than he would allow. Jimin is well aware of that. That’s why he made sure not to even brush your skin as he dressed you up.

And there’s the rest of the room. Crowded with young men confused as to how to act. Some sulking because they wish they had something they don’t -the proximity Jimin fetched for himself with you, the relationship their youngest friend has-, others fidgeting in frustration -because it was too short, because they need more or because they don’t know how to fucking get out of there so they can finally deal with their personal pressing problem. 

“Ok, um... we should- we should all head to bed. You know we have a tight schedule tomorrow.” It’s so fresh in their memories. The loud smacking, the wet squelching, the cries are still touchable, still ringing in their ears. And the images. Soon enough it’ll be recollection. It will get flimsier and flimsier. They won’t remember the rhythm nor the movements nor the shapes. They have to exploit it right now. Now that their backs are still soaked with the sweat, their hearts still beating in frenzy, their mouths dry as hell and their cocks begging for release. It’s Taehyung who's the first to leave. He’s hurrying his way up the stairs, shaking his hand in pretence casualness, before Yoongi follows suit, not sparing anyone a glance. After that, they all find the courage to leave, Hoseok is last as he seems to struggle to make his eyes leave your form. And then it’s just the two of you. Cheeks flushed and foreheads sweaty, a large grin matching your faces.

“We’re crazy.” Jungkook nods while chuckling before leaning over to place a kiss on the tip of your nose. 

“Let's do it again some time.”

a/n: oops. i slipped. :))))