#explicit-tae recs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orchidyoonkook · 8 months ago

Text

PG | KTH

Title: PG

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friend!Kim Taehyung x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Touches of Fluff

Summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.

Warnings: nicknames! a disgusting amount, language, assholes being assholes but being put in their place, brotherly love, sibling antics, tae is a swimmer and knows judo, also a Dan is--for the lack of better phrasing--a high belt level in judo. think of it like a black belt, OC cant keep it in her pants and neither can tae, mutual pining, lots of great gatsby references because I'm trying to be that bitch (I am joking), tae has tats, OC's brother is an overprotective idiot but we love him anyway, slight physical abuse not by tae or reader or fourteen--basically someone grips an arm too harshly, some panic but no panic attack,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 11,521

Release Date: September 15, 2024. 12:00PM

A/N 1: The biggest most huge thank you to @violetsiren90 for being my sounding board, tech support and beta. She's a real one and y'all are sleeping on her work if you haven't alread read it. Go check her out!

A/N 2: My access to the adobe suite was aha....revoked. So! this is my first time making a banner and divider without photoshop. Therfore, the banner and the divider are a bit different than what I'm used to having XD. Tumblr is also absolutely destroying the qualty which is sooooo great. It looks wonky and blurry to me on desktop but fine on mobile so it is what it is. If i ever get adobe access again I'll probably come back and update the graphics.

Explicit Warnings: *ahem* nicknames, teasing, kissing, biting, marking (several ways), hand and finger kink (duh), voice kinklet (duhhhh), hair 'pulling' (m rec), semi public if you squint, hella foreplay, tae has a big dick, penetrative sex, oral (m+f rec), fingering, handjob?, multiple orgasms, body worship, switch like activities but mostly dominant tae, posessiveness, confessions, reader takes what she wants but so does tae, exhibitionism if you squint, slight cum play/eating, implied squirting, choking, cream pie. Pretty sure thats all of them. i never reailse how many i need to put until the list is done and wow *chuckes while blushing*

“Oi, can you fucking not? My sister’s right fucking there,” your older brother, Fourteen—nicknamed for his forever mental age—ridiculously and unneededly overprotective as always, says.

It is especially unneeded and ridiculous as he’s saying it to Tae, when all he’s doing is taking off his shirt to go for a swim in your pool. Like he’s been doing since you were tweens.

Well.

Since you were a tween and they were nearing the legal drinking age. But that’s besides the point.

Best friend to your knuckle head of an older brother, you honest to god have no idea how they became friends.

Taehyung is poetry and jazz and button up cotton shirts. Old book smell and expensive cologne, ringed fingers and whiskey, neat. The kind of vibe someone would get from being raised by a very successful lawyer for a father and a top ranking university professor of literature for a mother, while Fourteen is… your older brother.

Maybe it’s a younger sister thing to not understand how her older brother has any friends. Considering you grew up with him, know all of his weird and gross habits, have a lovely dash of sibling bullying thrown in that you two share equally, and more. Yet, by some miracle, he and Tae manage to balance one another out.

Tae—fucking somehow—makes your brother into a more presentable human being. He showers more than twice a week and wears deodorant every day now—even puts the seat down after peeing, a habit you’ve been screaming at him to stop doing since you could use the toilet. While Fourteen gives Tae a rougher edge he previously never seemed to be able to grasp, despite trying his best too.

For example, the several delicate tattoos he now has all over his body, your favourite of which is an old timey record player on the inside of his forearm. They were something he’d been wanting to do for years, but only finally bit the bullet on and did once Fourteen took him when they were twenty two.

Since then the collection’s only grown, much to your inner glee and mental dismay.

And don’t even get you started on the delicate, thin rimmed glasses he occasionally wears—golden and the perfect shape for his face—or the ear piercings that just really fucking cement the tortured poet look that makes your heart clench every. single. time. you look at him.

Similarly to what it’s doing right now, though no one ever knows due to your truly oscar worthy talent for acting completely oblivious to the beautiful shirtless man about to dive in. Call it over a decades worth of practice, and the fact that it’s also nothing you hadn’t gloriously taken in all teenagehood long.

Every time you could get it.

Which was a lot because Tae was on the high school swim team.

For four years.

And then the university swim team.

For another four.

Teenage you was a lucky bitch. Now you’re only blessed with this sight when he comes over to swim laps or attempt to drown Fourteen. Which, admittedly, was still often. But not nearly as much as back then.

The sight in question however, is curled black hair that frames eyes so warm you swear the sun’s relocated to his irises, and a jawline that makes the Statue of David’s pathetic in comparison. It’s fingers that make your mouth water from the way they flip book pages and thighs that make you think thoughts and things you never thought you would.

It’s the scribbled text: ‘To err is human; to forgive, divine’ tattooed across his ribs, and a lean torso, muscled but not outrageously so. Just enough to have you forcing yourself not to stare at the delicate lines of his abdomen every time he comes over for a swim.

Thank god for sunglasses.

“Nah, I’m sure PG can handle it, Dumbass. I’ve only been using your pool every summer for the last 15 years give or take,” Tae says with a quirked brow and a half smile directed at you.

Behind your sunnies, you heat up a touch, and internally sigh. Have you mentioned his smile yet?

Because oh yeah, his fucking smile.

Tae’s a nickname kind of person, hence why even you call your brother ‘Fourteen’. Taehyung’s called him Fourteen for so long now that calling your brother by his birth name just feels wrong.

This being said, PG is Tae’s nickname for you.

It stands for the TV rating ‘Parental Guidance’ because you’re younger by enough that when you were still under the age of 18, they—see: your brother and Tae because they’ve been joined at the hip since they met—were usually assigned babysitting duty. Very much the ‘take your sister with you’ sibling, but they never complained. Not once.

As much as you and Fourteen bully one another, you’re actually quite close when you aren’t verbally sparring—which is where his annoying overprotectiveness comes in. Even when it comes to Taehyung.

“Yeah, Dumbass,” you copy, earning a smirk from Tae as he leans down to take his shoes off. “It’s just Tae.”

“It’s not about that YN, it’s about respect. You’re my little sister, and Fuckass over here,” you brother jabs a thumb in Tae’s direction, which earns you a second hidden smirk from the Fuckass in question, “Still doesn’t know how to respect that fact even after a decade and a half apparently.”

You shrug as Fourteen finishes his point and narrows his eyes at his best friend. Tae gives him a shit eating grin that screams ‘what are you going to do about it’ and your brother gives him a two fingered salute before shaking his head and taking off his own shirt.

You take that as your cue to put your head back down because you don’t need to see that.

Currently in very comfortable linen shorts and tank, you’re sitting on a padded pool lounger, rereading The Great Gatsby for the hundredth time. It’s one of the classics that never gets old for you, has the benefit of being a shorter read—therefore perfect for the poolside—and happens to be the copy Tae’d gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago. Pure coincidence, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

With the beautiful addition of your very darkly glassed sunnies, it also makes the perfect decoy as you watch Tae over the top of the open book without risk of being caught.

You firmly follow the rule of a little looking can’t hurt.

You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up—see: current shirt stripping debacle. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do something like it, and you’re pretty sure you and Tae have an unspoken agreement at this point to push as many of Fourteen’s buttons as you can together, just to see how far he’ll let it go before freaking out.

Despite the flames that rage and roar on in your heart.

Despite the green light on the dock across the way tackling your brother under the water.

You hold on. And only in these little moments of in between do you allow yourself to look. Pockets of time where a peek won’t be seen or recorded, and a moment of self indulgence keeps your sanity from trying to escape its tightly locked box.

You look and look and look until the green light is covered in fog once more, and the lid of the box seals tight.

Another day, another glorious abuse of best friend privileges, Taehyung thinks to himself as he continues his butterfly down the imaginary lanes in Fourteen’s pool.

He tries to come over at least three times a week. Four or five if he’s able, the more he’s over the higher chance he has to see you, not just Fourteen. But he’s rarely able to these days.

Though the wind appears to have shifted in his favour today. You’re sitting on the lounge chairs again, reading away in the afternoon sun.

It’s his favourite view. And it’s sweetened by the fact that you’re in the shorts he loves and reading a book he gave you. Something he’s done since before he could remember, really.

Christmases and birthdays, he’s always given you a book. Usually a classic, sometimes something else. If it caught his eye or reminded him of you, he’d grab it and save it until the next Christmas or the next birthday, whichever came first. And you’ve always loved them, so he’s never stopped.

They’re gifts that seem harmless to Fourteen, and for the most part they are. But these last few have been…different. Had deeper thought put into them. The titles, the story lines, the prose. He swears you notice it, but maybe that’s just his own wishful thinking.

And he sure as fuck can’t be doing any of that.

This cold water isn’t doing its job well enough.

Finishing his set, Tae swims over to rest before starting on his front stroke. Forearms hold him up on the edge of the pool, his chin balancing on stacked knuckles while his breath catches.

He also uses this little break as an excuse to talk to you. He only ever freely can when Fourteen isn’t around, and right now his best friend is inside grabbing drinks, towels and probably relieving himself–which, knowing Fourteen—could take anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes. So he has to take advantage of every moment he gets.

“Got any new recommendations for me PG?”

Books are an easy starting point when it comes to you. Fourteen may be a graphic novel at best kind of guy, but your brain can’t seem to inhale enough books to satiate it. And just the thought makes his temples rush with heat.

He should dunk his head again.

You lower your Fitzgerald by one inch and raise an eyebrow to counter it. Just like your brother, you’re always one to give him a hard time. Make him work for every millimeter of ground conquered. And he’s pretty sure you have a smirk hiding behind the pages, though he can’t be certain due to the sunglasses hiding your eyes.

“Maybe,” you say. “What do I get in return?”

Answering that question about fifty different ways in his head, Tae decides none can be said out loud. He seriously needs to fucking reel himself in. Fourteen could return at any moment and the last thing Tae needs to have is a problem between his legs because you never make it easy for him.

But rather than listening to his very rational thoughts and very logical brain, he instead decides to say fuck it, and croons in the voice that used to fluster you as a teenager.

“What do you want in return, PG?” Hoping to soften you up, even the playing field a bit.

And it works like a charm.

Your body releases its tension on an exhale, your page is marked, book set to the side, and your legs extend and stretch before crossing at the ankle. It makes him wonder if your little girlhood crush on him still exists somewhere in the back of your mind. Probably not.

Scratch that.

Definitely not.

“What if I wanted a new nickname?” you ask.

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise. “What’s wrong with PG?”

“It makes me feel like I’m eleven,” you explain. And then hit him with a dose of his own medicine as you croon, “I’m not eleven anymore, Tae.”

No you sure as hell are not. And it kills him in a way that has him wanting to die over and over again.

He could consider it. But he doesn’t think he’ll change it, not when PG can stand for so many wonderful things. Things you would never think he’d let it when addressing you. Things that would have Fourteen trying for drowning attempt number two thousand four hundred sixty three, and succeeding.

“I’ll think about it—Fair?”

You ponder before agreeing. “Fair.”

“Now about those recommendations…” He reminds you, and that’s all it takes to get you going.

Fourteen comes out about ten minutes later, but by then, Tae has a new list of books to grab from the store, two laps under him with eight more to go, and you’re reading again—one bare leg bent at the knee he’s trying very hard to ignore when he comes up for air.

By the time he’s due for another breather, you’re talking to your brother about plans for the weekend.

“I’m going out early on Friday for Rei’s birthday, remember? And I’ll probably crash at her place after,” you say.

Fourteen is sitting on the second lounge chair across from you, most likely playing a game on his phone if Tae had to guess. But at your reminder, your brother looks up.

“Fuck that’s right. Okay so no dinner then, I’ll just grab something on my way in.”

“Sounds good. What about tonight?”

Fourteen gives it about two seconds of thought. “How about Don’s?”

Your face lights up at the suggestion. “Fuck yes! I’ve been craving their milkshakes for like a week. Hey Tae!” you call to him. “Don’s for dinner? There’s a chocolate shake with your name on it if you’re down.”

Tae pushes himself out of the water onto the pavement and doesn’t miss the sly once over you give him while Fourteen chucks a towel at his chest, covering your eyes with his other hand.

He catches the projectile before it can knock him back into the pool, and uses it to dry his hair.

“Dude! Seriously? Go find a fucking shirt or something, no one wants to see that.”

You swat your sibling’s hand away and give him a look that screams ‘grow up’ while Tae drapes the towel over his shoulders, a hand gripping at each end.

“I’m only down if Dumbass is paying,” he says, smirking at your brother.

“—What—”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” you agree, holding out your hand in his direction.

“—Hey wait a seco—”

Tae grabs and shakes just to watch the steam flee Fourteen’s ears at the contact. He meets your eyes conspiratorially, and you both nod before rushing Fourteen.

“—You fuckers!—” is all he gets out before Tae and you are grabbing an arm and a leg each and throwing Fourteen’s fully clothed ass in the pool.

He curses the both of you out several times as he treads, drenched and dripping, up the stairs and out of the water. Tae throws him the towel.

“You’ll pay for that, Asshole,” Fourteen tells Tae, and Tae grins.

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Worth it though.”

“And you!” Fourteen says, eyes on you. “What the fuck dude? The betrayal to your darling, one and only brother hurts. I’m wounded,” he lays it on thick, walking up directly beside you.

You're a hairsbreadth too late to realize when he shakes his hair out directly over top of you and you shriek, pulling your knees up, protecting the book under your shirt and behind your legs at all costs.

“Fourteen! The book! I will kill you if you damage it!”

Fourteen chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch Little Sister.”

You sneer at him, checking your prized possession for injury. Not a scratch.

“And sopping wet is your colour, Jackass.”

“Big words for someone who can just as easily be thrown in the pool.”

You pause. Eyeing him directly.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Your brother looks at Tae with an evil plot in his eyes and you screech as they both nod once. You drop your book behind you as they yank you up by your arms and fling you into the pool, too much momentum from them and not enough resistance from you leaving you matching your darling, one and only brother.

As you come up for air, two colossal splashes ricochet from the left and right. Tae and Fourteen having both cannonballed in on either side of you. You choke on splattered water for a second before you’re attacking them with splashes, merciless in your pursuit for revenge.

“You both suck!” you half giggle half yell.

“Yet you love us anyway!” your brother falsely—correctly—claims.

You roll your eyes before trudging out, heavier and dripping with your soaked clothes.

And it's not until weekend plans are cast aside for current memories, Taehyung treating you all to dinner, and you treating everyone to milkshakes, that all is forgiven.

It turns out Rei’s dad knows the manager of the most exclusive club in the city—Youth—and managed to call in a favour. So now you, her, and your other bestie, Lea, are all on the dancefloor to celebrate her birthday.

Rei’s first request for the night besides not paying for a single drink, was to dress up in the hottest, sluttiest outfits the club's dress code would allow for.

This, for you, meant a black, square necked, low cut, and thin strapped satin slip dress that hugged you in all the right ways, matching heels adored with ankle strap bows and a sultry makeup look. Lea chose a dark blue shimmery number with a high leg split, vibrant graphic eyeliner, and wedges, while the birthday girl found the skimpiest forest green mini dress you’ve ever seen paired with heels that wrap ribbons up her legs, and a subtle dewy look on her lids.

She’s glowing, and needless to say, they both look hot and so do you.

Rei’s second request for the night was to dance until you either collapsed or threw up, whichever came first. A goal you were all making a steady descent towards as the night progressed.

That is, until your blood runs cold at the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend making his way through the crowd in a direct beeline towards you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re alone right now. Rei and Lea are taking a bathroom break.

You insisted you’d be fine for ten minutes. It was just ten minutes. What could possibly go wrong in ten minutes?

But apparently god just loves to play jokes because here you are, three shots in, not emotionally prepared enough to be near him, let alone speak to him, and by yourself in this huge crowd of strangers while he’s making very good time on his route to you.

Fuck! You do not want to deal with him right now or—fucking ever, actually.

He’d cheated on you four times that he admitted too throughout your two and a half year relationship, all while faking being blindingly happy directly to your face. He’d lied to you and hurt you and made you wonder what you did wrong for him to do that to you. It took all of your third year of university and more therapy sessions than you care to admit to realize you were never the problem, and that he was a piece of shit.

So, with the fifteen feet between you two quickly shrinking, you try your best to hide from him in the crowd, only to run directly into him when you duck past a fellow club goer.

Son of a b—

“Heyyy Y/N, how’ve you been?” he says like he didn’t destroy your entire sense of self worth for a couple quick fucks.

You want to down three more shots just to be able to puke all over him. Intentionally, you haven’t seen him in years and just the reek of his stale ass cologne has you close.

“Fuck off Micah, don’t you have somewhere you need to be sticking your dick—like a garbage disposal?” You snark, doing your damndest to not let him get close. But the throng of bodies surrounding you have other ideas and you’re thrown against your least favourite person in existence.

Delusional as ever, Micah sleezes, “Doesn’t seem like you want me to leave just yet, Kitten,” and you shove him off you as hard as you can while bile rises at the horrible name you used to beg him not to call you.

You need to get off the dance floor.

Now.

Before you can, Micah grabs your arm and he pulls you back into him, hard.

Tae watches you out of the corner of his eye, wondering why in the hell you came to this club, of all the clubs out there.

The club he was at. Wearing that and truly testing the limits of his self control.

Music blasts through speakers that move the ocean on the dancefloor. Bodies sway like waves, some crashing into one another with teeth and tongues and passion, others pushing with the current, grinding and gripping and grabbing at anything they can get their hands on. The louder and faster the notes whirl over their swells, the harsher the storm rages on, people flowing in and out of the eye when needed.

He’s sitting at a booth on a dais high enough to watch you in the hurricane whilst being out of eyesight, notably with one or two faces he barely recognizes enough to most likely be your friends.

They appear to be currents. They drag you into deeper waters and you let them, helpless to their siren call. Leading you to your place amongst the sea life, and reveling in the way the melodies wash over you again and again with every song that plays.

His eyes follow you as you dance, curious if Fourteen knows you’re here before flinging the thought out of his head as quickly as it entered. You’re grown now, don’t need protection anymore. A lesson he learned the day you returned from university after graduating.

No longer his best friend's kid sister who they kept an eye on, but a woman who was and still is growing into herself beautifully. A woman who is steadfast, strong and more often than not, correct in her opinions. A woman who is well read and equally if not more so well spoken when she deigns to acknowledge his existence. A woman who knows how and when to turn all of that off in order to team up with him in a roast battle for the books against her brother.

He thinks of that day as the beginning of his downfall.

He can humbly admit that his intelligence, demeanor and education are things that have been nurtured into existence by his parents and carefully maintained by himself with practice and both mental and physical exercise. He takes care of himself, inside and out. Exercises regularly, eats well, has good hygiene. He’s level headed and patient. Respectful and responsible. Controlled and competent.

He prides himself on these things. Actively works towards keeping them maintained.

And yet.

Somehow when it comes to you, he is little more than a single brain celled idiot.

All of the things he uses to measure his self worth evaporate whenever you enter his field of vision and he becomes fucking ravenous. And all of his focus goes into controlling himself.

He’d never noticed before, never thought of you in the way he does now. How when your currents break from formation and head towards the bathrooms, their outgoing force creates a riptide that some fuckhead with a stupid haircut uses to sweep in and dance with you.

But you push him away.

He doesn’t get the memo, and the mophead tries his best to yank you out to sea again.

Magma flows through Taehyung's veins, thunder cracks in his ears and all he can think about is storming through the crowd to steal you from said fuckhead by claiming you for himself.

But he won’t.

Can’t.

All because of his darling best friend.

Fourteen doesn’t know about his feelings for you of course. And Tae rather likes being alive and in one piece, two things he most definitely would not remain should he act on any of these feelings.

You are wholly off limits, forbidden. A little too young, a little too immediately related to his best friend, a little too perfectly his fucking type. It kills him every time he can’t even look at you without Fourteen going into what he calls ‘asshole mode’.

So you remain in his very close periphery. Untouchable to the fingertips he aches to caress you with as you dangle your existence in front of him. Your wicked tongue, your delicious intelligence, your sexy fucking legs—fuck!

He has to stop thinking about you like this.

But that only makes him want you more.

It’s like the gods handcrafted you for him. Every piece, every detail of you immaculate, but he committed one to many sins in his past life, and now they’ve locked you away forever as punishment.

You float across the night sky, stuck in a golden cell. Its fourteen bars hold you hostage amongst the stars, all while he’s chained to the bottom of the ocean floor gasping for air.

But fuck the gods and fuck their gilded cages.

He’d break from his chains, swim to the surface of the sea and grow wings. Would break your prison apart with the sheer force of his wanting, then drag you down to the depths if it meant he got to keep you for himself.

He would. He really, really fucking would. If his world wouldn’t implode completely if he did.

So he keeps these thoughts to himself. Forces them down as they try their damndest to bubble over and burn him, because they will if he lets them. If any of them get outside these little moments, the ones where he allows himself to feel, he would burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left.

Therefore, Taehyung has never been more grateful that his best friend was stuck on the night shift while he watched you dance and enjoy yourself, because it granted him this sliver of time to pretend like your brother doesn’t exist.

That you are something he could let himself have, if you wanted him to.

And he’s solid in his decision to only observe, to stay inside his little moment, until fuckhead doesn’t get the message for the third time and Taehyung is out of his seat before he can think.

Because Fourteen isn't here.

And old habits die hard.

“What the hell? Let me go, Micah!” You see his eyes then, red rimmed and glazed. He definitely has more than one thing in his system as his grip on you hardens further. The more you struggle, the tighter he grasps and—ouch, ouch, ouch, yank, fuck! Ow!—it’s really starting to hurt.

“Just give me one more chance Kitten, I promise I’ll do better,” he whisper in your ear over the music, and you cringe back from how loud he is. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I fucked up, I know I did. But that was years ago, and I learned my lesson. Just one more chance Kitten, just one more, and I—I promise. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t. I really miss y–AH! What the fuck!?”

The hand on your arm releases the second Micah yelps in pain. You look down to see familiar ringed fingers around Micah’s wrist, clutching so hard they’re white knuckled and skin bruising.

A broad chest comes to rest at your back, and an arm snakes around you. Its large palm rests on your stomach and hip as it pulls you tightly against its owner.

Words covered in sharpest ice are spoken from behind you, their baritone so recognizable they have you melting back into him.

Safe.

You’re safe.

Exhale.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Taehyung growls so deeply, so powerfully, you feel the rumble from behind his sternum reverberate into your body.

Micah’s focus shifts from his wrist to the man several inches taller and several years his senior still holding it. You watch as his face contorts from pained to confused and then to murderous.

“The fuck are you to tell me not to touch my girlfriend?” Micah seethes, and you stiffen because no the fuck you are not, and haven’t been for several years.

How blitzed out of his mind is he right now?

You don’t even get the chance to deny his words before Taehyung’s on Micah like fire to dried grass.

“Don’t make me laugh, Asshole. No way in hell an pig faced looking fucker like you could pull a woman like her. Now,” Tae roughly shoves Micah’s hand back to him, and it forces Micah to stumble into the people behind with the force. “Get the fuck away from My Girl before I make you My Problem. And trust me,” Tae says in a tone so dangerous, you’ve never heard him sound so terrifying in the fifteen plus years you’ve known him, “You don’t want me to make you my problem.”

And you realize, that this isn’t the Taehyung you’ve grown up with; seen through his awkward teen years and watched come into his adult life with. This isn’t jazz music and poetry Taehyung.

This Taehyung has only ever come out the handful of times you’ve ever been in trouble. The one who studied Judo with Fourteen growing up, the one who has his fourth Dan.

The one who does not play when it comes to you and your safety.

It’s enough to know that Taehyung is more than pissed off, and more than a little ready to beat the absolute shit out of Micah, if the whiskey on his breath says anything about his loosened inhibitions.

Micah seems to sense this too, and decides to back off. But not without a stupid macho expression and two middle fingers directed at both of you as he disappears into the crowd, and out of sight.

You can feel the tension radiating off Taehyung in waves, a coil so tightly wound that a gentle breeze could set him loose, so you turn around and attempt to safely unwind. His hand moves from your stomach to your lower back, and you ignore the trail of wildfire it leaves in its wake because Tae’s eyes haven’t wavered from the spot where Micah just stood.

“Don’t.” You say, loud enough for him to hear. And his flame filled irises snap to yours, burning. “He’s not worth it.”

Your words seem to bring him back somewhat because Tae sniggers. “Damn right he’s not,” then softens. “Are you okay?”

You look anywhere but at him, the reality of the last three minutes crashing down onto your head like broken glass while the both of you are still caught in the middle of the dancefloor.

The people around you seem to understand something’s happened, and you’re left mostly untouched aside from the gentle nudges of inebriated party goers whose balance isn’t the best at the moment.

Like the mellowed waves in the eye of a storm.

Taehyung seems to make sense of this at the same time you do, and lifts his free hand for you to take. Slipping your fingers into his, he leads you to an unused and out of the way emergency exit hallway somewhere in the back of the club. It’s completely empty and dark, undisturbed besides the occasional server passing by.

It’s private.

It’s safe.

You’re safe.

He lets go of your hand and looks at you again. “Now, are you okay?”

The adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel yourself start to shake. You ignore it. Sort of.

“I’m okay,” you say. But he’s eyeing you suspiciously and rightly so, so you repeat yourself, trying to convince your own brain more than his right now.

“I’m okay, really! I’m good. I’m–” you exhale a shaky breath and he doesn’t ask before pulling you to his chest. Wrapping both his arms around you, one around your back while the other holds your head protectively to him. Your own go around his waist as you grip him back tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I’m okay,” you say again, muffled into his black high necked shirt, taking deep breaths of his soothing, familiar scent. You do it and again, and again. Repeating the pretty lie to yourself again and again until it becomes the truth.

He doesn’t let go until you do, and you don’t let go until you’ve finally stopped shaking.

You look up into his eyes, and all signs of his previous wrath are gone. It seems the hug didn’t ground just you, it grounded him too. Got him out of the headspace that would’ve been required for action first, words later. But now the sun is back, it shines down on you, and you bask in its warmth.

“I’m good now. Thank you,” you say in an even and unwavering voice, because you are. The panic and immense relief having washed over you, and you’re once again simply, pleasantly buzzed.

Though you do have a new problem in the form of the warmth pooling low from the feeling of both his hands still on your lower back.

You’re trying to convince yourself it’s his way of keeping you safe.

But the lock on your box has the key inside it, and it’s just begging for you to turn it.

“Good,” he replies, still not letting go. And it’s chipping away at your sanity. “Who was that guy? I only caught the last bit of his pathetic ramblings.”

You wince. Due to a lovely combination of not being very active on social media, not being much of a picture taker, and the newly dyed hair Micah seemed to be sporting tonight, you’re not surprised Tae didn’t recognize him.

“Ah. Uhm…That was...Micah,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes again. That’s when you notice his outfit tonight is all black.

Oh you are so fucked.

“As in Micah, Micah?” Tae asks neutrally, familiar with what your ex had done, just not what he looked like.

“...Yeah...”

“I see.”

“Yeah...” You say again. Because what else could you say?

Tae cracks a smile. “Should’ve let me kick his ass. The balls on him not only to approach you, but to call you his—” he cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing in a hushed, caring tone. “After everything he’s done to you, you should’ve let me, PG. Consequences be damned.”

Your cheeks flame at the nickname so close to your ears. So tenderly said. And you honestly can’t tell if you still hate it in this moment, or if it’s only adding kindling to the fire his hands are fueling at the base of your spine.

The new name he’d called you earlier, its ignition point.

My Girl.

You swear, even in your panicked state, you’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe before inhaling far too much all at once.

Fuck, what you won’t give to hear him say it again. But you’re 98.9% sure that’s the three shots of vodka talking. Trying their best to turn the damn key. And maybe they succeed in turning it half way—hell, maybe all the way, because you look him back in the eyes and hear yourself say,

“Maybe I should’ve, but I was far too distracted by the new nickname you finally gave me to give a single fuck about anyone else.”

The moment the last word is out Taehyung stiffens beneath your touch, fingers locked on your back, and you’re very pretty sure you just fucked absolutely everything up.

Years of good behaviour, of keeping yourself in check. Of pockets of time and side long glances and knowing nothing would ever happen, stolen from you. By your own big, fat, adrenaline depleted, vodka loosened mouth.

You're a second away from damage control before his grip shifts from your lower back to your hips.

Higher. Tighter. Controlling. Oh fuck.

He leans down to murmur, “Liked the new name, did you?” in your ear.

Shivers shoot from your crown to your core and down to your toes. Having his deep, deliciously inviting voice so fucking close to your pulse point has you millimeters away from drowning in it. You know he can feel it course through you, just like you can hear the smile it makes him display away from your eyesight as he does.

“You did then,” he responds for you, a cat toying with its meal as he lifts his head once more to look into your eyes.

You don’t need a mirror to know the state of your pupils. Your gaze is glazed over in the sinful kind of way.

“I did,” you needlessly confirm, looking up into similarly blown out ones.

The fingers twined behind him release, and make their way around to his abdomen. They pause to splay for just a second at the defined ridges, before slowly crawling up his chest and meeting again at the nape of his neck.

They play with the soft hair there, gently scratching their nails at the skin beneath where it grows and you watch as your ministrations cause his eyes to roll back, flutter shut, and his head to meet the wall behind him. A barely audible moan escapes the confines of his lips before he swallows, the divine bob of his adams apple as he tries to regain his composure is the dawn of your undoing.

“Fuck, PG that isn’t fair,” he groans towards the ceiling, his hands on your waist clamping down harder, pulling you so close your bodies touch in more places they definitely shouldn’t be. The contact has you reeling and all you want is more, more, more of it.

More of him.

“PG isn’t the name you called me earlier,” you hum, yanking on a single loose strand and Tae sucks in a steep breath, biting the corner of his smirking lip with a canine.

You want to hear him say it again. Badly. So you release the sensual grip you have on his nape, and let his head lul slowly back down to where it was, his deepening amber wholly fixated on your now entirely onyx. Your heart is begging for release from your chest, and for a moment you wonder if he can see your pulse thrumming in your eyes, because you sure as hell can feel it.

“No, it’s not. But it also hasn’t meant to me what it means to you for quite some time now,” his voice like honey, thick and dripping its way over your body. It’s making you dizzy and weighty with want. It has your mouth opening slightly as he leans closer still, knocking his nose gently with your own. Inhaling in your exhales. Teasing you. Making you work for it.

“And what does it mean to you?” you ask, barely above a whisper, irises never straying from his as your bottom lip brushes against his in one solitary, intoxicating moment that has you more buzzed in one touch than three shots has had you all night.

“Pretty Girl,” he breathes onto your lips, pushing his thigh between your legs at the same time he pulls you impossibly closer. You hear yourself moan ‘fuck’ at the contact it gives your throbbing cunt. Too focused on the need coursing through you like a live wire—your body pure water—to think about what you’re saying.

It’s a sweet sound and a violent pleasure he devours as his lips finally, finally, finally crash into yours, pinning you in place and allowing him to take every piece of you he wants. One hand slithers up your naked spine to hold you, your backless dress doing you every favour imaginable as his other continues to help you grind over his thigh.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it, causing him to jerk into you once with the rapidly growing want pressing into your lower belly. But your hands hold firm at his neck as you pull him into you, a knee lifting to meet his hip. Needing more contact.

The electricity filled pathways his fingers leave down your back, over your ass and across the bottom of your thigh to support your search for pleasure do nothing but spur on the overwhelming need to touch him everywhere.

No holds barred. No clothes worn. Nothing stopping you.

He uses his new grip to spin you around and press his hips into yours as your shoulders meet the wall. You’re left to moan sickly sweet sounds of bliss into his ear as Taehyung frees your mouth in favour of your jaw and neck, sucking gentle purple hues down the column of your throat and onto your collarbone.

“Pretty Girl,” he whispers between love bites, “My Pretty Girl.” Over and over and it has you melting so far into him, the only thing keeping you apart is fabric and a potential audience. Though from the colour you’re going to have to cover with far too much concealer tomorrow, you don’t think he quite cares about that last part.

It drives you farther into insanity. Years of want and restraint and pretty white lies you told yourself are crashing down on one another and it shows in the fervor of your touch, your wants, your pleads.

“Fuck, Tae—please. Please, I need you— please,” you beg, and the bite he leaves at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder has you gasping for air that refuses to be consumed gently.

But Taehyung is a man on a mission. One who will not be deterred, and you can’t tell if he will be your pinnacle or your inevitable end.

With what is very clearly great effort, Tae pulls himself back from your decolletage, only to kiss your lips once more. Open mouthed and dirty, tongue clinging to you like the only thing he’s concerned about is swallowing down as much of you as he can while you’ll let him, and you’ve never felt more desired in your life.

He’s hoarse as he says, “Not here. Not for the first time. Not…not here.”

“Then where,” you ask, near impatient and far too eager as you let your hands roam wherever they want. And you find your thumbs tracing the waistline of his pants, dipping a nails width below where they should. They trail over the indented V of muscle you know is hiding under his shirt. He shudders.

It makes you smile wickedly.

“Then where, Taehyung,” you murmur into his neck with that wicked smile in your words as you trace your nose along his jaw.

“Fuck, you’re something,” he says, almost pained, bringing you immense delight. To know you affect him as much as he does you. That you have him as much as he has you.

Sly hands slowly pull his shirt from his trousers in an attempt to urge him on. It works, and his response is quick.

“My place. It’s a ten minu—fuck PG,” he almost scolds as your digits toy with the hair at his navel, dipping lower—enough to feel the beginnings of something—but not low enough to discern anything.

Yet.

“Can you behave for that long?”

You smirk.

Retracting your hands, you hold them up to show you can be good, do a quick once over to make sure you're decent and spin on your heel to walk towards your booth. Tae is behind you immediately, hand placed low on your back, thumb rubbing circles on the sliver of skin it touches. You ignore the goose bumps that arise.

Rei and Lea are at your table, thankfully. You explain to them you ran into Micah and that it really shook you, so Tae’s going to take you home. They know who Tae is, so they’re not worried when they give you goodbye hugs or when they tell you to text them when you're home safe.

You promise you will, and hope that the rest of Rei’s birthday goes well.

True to his word, it’s a ten minute rideshare before you’re pulling up to a tall, black windowed apartment building.

You’ve only been to Tae’s a handful of times with your brother, mostly for things like pick ups for concerts and such, but now that you’re here—alone with him—you’re trying hard not to jump him in the fucking lobby.

The pulsing between your legs has only worsened since you removed your hands from his waistline, and you’re close to crawling out of your skin with need.

His hand stays in its place at your lower back as the elevator climbs.

It’s not helping and completely helping at the same time.

Fuck.

Tae lives on the sixteenth floor and the view is incredible. It’s the first thing you see past the island when you walk in the front door. There’s the kitchen to the left past the entrance, which turns into the living space that’s furnished in a way you can only describe as pure Tae.

Books littering every surface, warm neutral toned furniture to counterbalance the colourful artwork he keeps on the walls. There’s an old record player with a collection of vinyls in the corner and what you assume is this morning's coffee mug on the art book filled coffee table.

To the right of the living space is the bedroom. It’s a studio apartment, but Tae’s managed to keep the flow of the place beautifully with some creatively put, gorgeously decorated room dividers. And the tall floor to ceiling windows wrap around it all, showcasing the lights of the city as they blend into the stars in the night sky.

Mesmerizing.

Just like the man locking his door behind you.

A kiss is placed on the back of your neck as you slide out of your shoes at the front door. You angle your head to allow more space, letting the arm that folds around you bring you closer to him. The feel of his arousal begins to grow behind you once more and you push back against him. A faint grunt meets the shell of your ear before his hand delicately slides up from your lower stomach and past your sternum. It teases your neck for just a moment before it meets your jaw to turn your lips towards his.

He captures them in a brutal kiss, drinking you in for all you’re worth and then some as his other hand replaces the one that now holds your jaw in place. He pulls you into him but you spin in his hold, throwing your arms around his neck once more and dragging him towards the living space. He sheds his jacket in the process, uncaring of where it lands on his floor so long as you are still kissing him.

You only stop when your ass meets the top of the couch and Taehyung palms the back of your thighs to lift you, your legs wrapping themselves around his hips as you sit on its edge.

He growls at the contact and it has you raking your nails down his neck and over his shirt as you open for him once more, tongues clashing and teeth scraping at the desperate nature you both share. You yank his shirt up and he breaks from your embrace for only the amount of time it takes for the fabric to hit the floor before he’s back on you, adding twin bruises to the other side of your throat.

You let the strings holding up your dress fall naturally to the side, revealing your chest to him, and a low, “Fucking hell,” is murmured somewhere below your ear before a nipple is in his mouth and you’re arching into his touch, slices of need shooting straight downwards. Giving no mercy to your attempts to draw out the pleasure.

One large hand cups a breast, molding it to his wanting before he switches and you’re groaning into the air above you, begging him for more, determined to have his tongue anywhere and everywhere you can get it. He lavs at your peaked bud, roaming over the sensitive flesh, making you squirm at the sensations he’s drawing from you.

You never want it to end as he makes his way back up to your mouth, dragging his bottom lip over all of the freshly deepend skin it trails in its wake, making you hazy with the feel of him and his marks.

His delicate touch wanders the insides of your thighs and your cunt aches for it the higher it climbs. But it slides up not down, reaching around to your ass and hoisting you onto his hips.

Turning, he walks the eight paces to his bed, places a knee on the mattress for support before setting you down. His lips never leave yours he crawls over you, settling his hips over yours for mere moments, allowing you to thrust only twice before he’s removing himself completely and sinking to his knees.

The fingers you’ve spent way too much time thinking about can’t get enough of your skin as they skate down your sides, taking the dress bunched at your hips with them. You raise your hips to help him get the scrap of fabric off, leaving a delicate, black lace thong the only thing keeping any of your remaining modesty intact.

You watch as his now fully blackened gaze takes you in, jaw dropped in slight at the sight of you with your legs opened on his bed. Like you were the prize he’s been waiting years to claim, and now that you're here and that you’re his his, he can’t quite believe it.

It’s then you realize that he wants you, and has been wanting you. That your attempts to stay in reality these last couple years weren’t just harder for you, but for him as well.

It hasn’t been one sided.

He wants you.

Taehyung.

Off limits, older brother’s best friend, swim club participating, jazz and poetry loving, judo knowing, book gifting, perfect smile having, protective, Taehyung.

Wants you.

You can physically feel the gush that rushes from your core at the thought and you know Tae can see it through the lace.

“Holy fuck…you’re fucking drenched and I haven’t even properly touched you yet,” he rasps, unbelieving.

“Then touch me and find out just how much I want this,” you whisper. Begging, pleading, praying your words have their intended effect. “How much I want you, Taehyung.”

The sound that leaves his throat is a mixture of a whimper, a groan, and a guttural noise indicative of pure desperate want as he takes hold of your legs and spreads them further. Those mother fucking fingers trace from your ankles to your knees accompanied by the occasional light kiss, back up your inner thighs, and finally to the spot where you’ve been weeping for him for the better part of thirty minutes with a heaping side of ten years yearned.

He places one open mouthed kiss on the top of your clothed clit and that simple touch has you arching, lightning crackling through your veins with the pleasure it brings. Tae slides one single finger down your covered slit before pushing it under and pulling it to the side.

At the mere sight of you he’s swearing so fiercely under his breath that you involuntarily clench and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

His mouth is on you and you buck at the sensation. Yielding you no mercy, his tongue swipes from opening to clit in one long lick that has you gasping, clutching bed sheets above and below your head to keep from screaming.

“Oh my—Fuck—Tae. Ohmygodohmy—” you’re rambling. Incoherent. A mess.

He’s consuming your very being, no nerve left untouched, no reaction too minimal for his learning as he snakes his hands around your legs to haul you closer, pull you deeper into his mouth and you can’t fucking take it. You’re screaming out at the intensity he circles you with, and you can feel your impending orgasm come rushing to the surface. You’ve barely even processed it’s begun before you’re spasming so hard Tae has to remove an arm from your leg to throw around your pelvis.

His devious fucking eyes meet yours for one earth shattering moment as he slips two fingers inside and begins a secondary merciless pursuit on your already overwhelmed senses. Using the pads to press upwards in time to the motions he never ceased with his tongue, a second wave is cresting before the first has ceased and you feel yourself clamping down, legs holding him in place as the intensity of your release climaxes.

You’ve never felt a pressure so intense before, it’s like your body is a volcano and you’re erupting for the first time while someone sets off fireworks from its peak. The lava flows in waves, your hand holding his hair as you ride his face, shuddering at the vibrations his moan into your cunt leaves on the most sensitive parts of your body.

Gentle strokes and licks calm as your pleasure begins to wane and you can breathe in more than just stuttered inhales again.

“Holy fu–” you try to get out, but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been screaming the entire time.

And fuck, maybe you have been. You sure as hell can’t remember or think of anything more than the warm fuzzy feeling currently radiating from every single pore in your body. The damningly deliciously dizzying feeling in your head not allowing for coherent thoughts to pass. Your limbs are loose, your body wholly relaxed.

You’re…Well. You’re fucking perfect right now. If you could stay in this moment forever you would without second thought. Locked in this room with him for all time sounds like the best way to live out the rest of your days.

Until you wince as Tae blows warm breath on your core and he chuckles, then does it again.

“Hey,” you say, sounding much clearer now, “Stop that and come here.”

You slip your hand down his face and grab him by the jaw, pulling him up and over you. Tae tastes like fire and whiskey and ambrosia and you as you kiss him with abandon, near feral as you take what you want from him and he revels in it.

He’s on his elbows and a knee over you, and you use it to your full advantage to palm him over his pants and—Fuck he’s big. No wonder he was so thorough on you. This is going to hurt no matter how much prep either of you did.

He hisses at the contact and that only spurs you on, grasping firmly at his base and roving up and over the head with the heel of your palm, squeezing gently in time with his reactions.

“Christ PG, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum in my pants,” Tae laughs into your neck before rising to sit back on his heels. He gets as far as undoing his belt buckle and button before you take over, sitting up and pulling him out.

He is disastrously beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your mouth waters at just the idea of him in your mouth.

Licking your lips, you hear him curse quite colourfully as you take the tip into your mouth and swish your tongue over the head. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Tae raises one hand to his eyes and the other behind him to hold him up as you take him deeper, shaking from restraining himself so hard, murmuring to himself, “Oh fuck. Fuck me, can’t believe—so fucking good, pretty—perfect—ohmygod,” and you seal the motherfucking deal by taking him into the back of your throat and looking up into his eyes at the same time.

Taehyung barks and bucks once into your throat before removing himself and throwing you down onto the bed. He looks furious in the way that gets your heart racing, your cunt thrumming and your breathing so fast your chest feels like it might shatter from the crosscurrents.

He grabs each of your hands and raises them above your head, sliding his fingers up your wrists and between your own, holding them in place on his pillow.

Leaning down, he uses his lowest timber to speak darkly into your ear, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his cock. Sliding back and forth, sending bolts of white hot need through you.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he starts, thrusting, teasing, torturing. And you moan at the contact.

“You make me want to throw away a decades old friendship just for the chance to touch you.”

Thrust, tease, jolt, whine.

“And what’s worst of all is you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and you turn me into a complete idiot the second you enter the room. It’s like your fucking presence takes away all the working functions in my brain and leaves me with only the incurable fucking desire to make you cum until you can’t remember you own fucking name. Only mine.”

Thrust, squeeze, glide, jolt. “Tae...” you whine, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his greed and delighted by his torture.

“I call you PG because it’s the only way I can get away with calling you anything more than your name around him.” He sounds almost angry with how low he growls. “And it means so much more than you could think.”

He leans further into you, so close now that his lips brush your ear as he speaks.

“My Pretty Girl,” thrust, “My Precious Girl,” moan, “My Perfect Fucking Girl.”

He releases one hand to line himself up with your entrance. “That’s who you are to me. That’s what I’m calling you when I call you PG. My Pretty, Precious, Perfect Girl. My Girl.” He slips past your walls, sinking deep and you both groan in euphoric unison. “Mine.”

Tae pulls out, slow and controlled.

Blissful.

Then pushes back in, methodically.

Torturous.

Feeling every inch you can take, which is every single fucking one.

Inevitable.

Bottoming out for the second time, you whisper, “Yours,” into his ear, and he turns fucking ravenous.

Setting an absolutely ruthless pace, he claims your body, taking what’s so clearly always been his. Your legs wrap around him again, digging a heel into his ass as you drive him closer, harder with every push. Then lay claim to the one thing you’re able to, taking his lips with yours and biting down hard enough to draw the most sinful groan from the back of his throat. Hoarse, deep, almost broken with how raw it is.

One hand bruises its fingerprints into your hip while the other holds him up over you, and you use this to your advantage, slipping one leg around his and flipping the both of you over.

You trail your tongue down his jaw to his clavicle, he tastes of sweat and lust and sex and it is the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever consumed. Creating your own gardens of little blooming flowers down one side of his neck and up the other, Taehyung moans greedily into your ear as your ride to match his thrusts, sending him deeper while you decorate your willing canvas.

Because as much as he wishes to lay claim to your body, you want to claim his as well.

“Mine,” you say, positioning yourself to take over completely, using the springs of the mattress to do most of the work for you.

“Yes,” he says. But that’s not good enough.

“Mine,” you demand, and let loose, pressing down on the mattress with your knees rapidly, creating the glorious effect you wanted. You watch as the up force from the mattress causes Taehyung to be driven into you so quickly he throws his head back, mouth dropped in pure ecstasy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, YN, What the fuck—” he rambles, lost to the pleasure, biting his lip, going slackjawed, clenching and unclenching his fists into bedsheets that already have your handprints seared into them.

And you keep going, a little torture creation of your own.

“Mine,” you demand again, and this time, it clicks.

“Yours! Fuck, yours. All yours, only yours,” he surrenders and you slow back down to a regular pace, breathless.

It’s a great move but it’s exerting.

You all but collapse on his chest and he takes over, thrillingly pissed off due to your power play.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, and you clench at his tone.

He removes himself and you whimper, but he’s maneuvering you like a ragdoll on the bed and you’re more than fucking willing to be thrown around.

He’s kneeling on the bed, lifting your hips and sliding into you in a doggy style, but then he’s doing the most insane thing you think you’ve ever seen. With an arm around your stomach he brings your back to his torso and twists you both to face the open floor to ceiling windows. One of your legs is thrown over his that’s up to splay you wide for the skyline to see, and you can see your reflection in the glass.

You look beyond fucked out, and so does he, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. But then his hand is sliding to your throat, and a whispered, “Is this okay?” finds your ears. You nod.

Gripping the sides of your throat, he slides his other hand to graze your clit before beginning his own version of the move you just pulled. Pumping into you at a pace that has your g-spot screaming from all of the attention it’s receiving, his fingers swiping deftly over the bundled nerves at the apex of your thigh whilst lightly cutting off the blood supply to your brain.

It has you twitching and hazy and dizzy in seconds. You can see yourself losing to the feeling so steadily building at the base of your spine in the glass. Mouth open, body willing, the man who’s been at the center of your wanting for longer than you can remember, its deliverance.

Dark, sex tousled hair, muscled forearms holding you up and driving you insane. Blackened eyes focused on you and only you through the mirror the darkness of the night’s sky has created for you.

It’s that visual that sets you over the edge when he releases your throat, and you feel a gush flowing from where you two meet.

“Fuuuck yes. My Perfect Girl, cum all over my sheets, drench my cock. That’s it,” he purrs in your ear and it’s doing nothing but sending shock after shock into your already over sensitive and pulsing cunt, letting your consciousness float somewhere above or below you, you don’t really care.

All you know is that you feel light as a feather and not of this earthly plane.

Taehyung removes himself and lies you down gently. He’s back inside soon after and it just feels right as he fills you, like it’s where he’s meant to be.

He hovers over you once more, and you lift a single knee to his hip, mimicking your position from the club as he thrusts into you with fervor, chasing his own high after delivering three mind shattering ones to you.

Reaching one hand to his cheek, you hold him as he kisses you, working himself to completion.

Using your other to deliver a few expert circles to your clit, so you can come together, you breathe in each other's release and drown in once another’s embrace.

You leave his name on your tongue this time. A gift. A cry so delicate that a tear falls from your cheek and he kisses it away.

Taehyung inhales sharply, before stuttering his exhale and an exquisite warmth fills you.

“F-f-uu-ckkk,” he shudders as he lets the aftershocks of his release claim you in the most basic and animalistic of ways. You drink in the vulnerable sound, taking his mouth with yours one final time as you bask in each other's pleasure. Silent but for catching breaths, exertion evident as you hold one another.

Taehyung rests on your chest. Lines are sketched gently with your nails up and down his spine and into his hair as he comes down, content in the afterglow, where nothing is wrong and everything is perfect.

Before consequences kick in and regrets form.

When he decides he’s ready, Tae lifts and removes himself from you and you can feel the remnants of your combined efforts slide down to the bedsheets.

Tae takes a single finger and gathers it up before pressing it back in. You hiss at the now tender flesh. Though the pain doesn’t stop the warmth newly pooling at the sight and feel and meaning.

He pumps it back in once, twice before removing his finger and placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your cunt flutters at the sight and Tae smirks, leaning forward to share his findings with you in the form of a filthy, open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. It’s slightly salty, slightly metallic but you pull him back for one last lick when he tries to pull away.

Watching him kneeling there, in the glow of moonlight, you realize just how truly beautiful he is. The shape of his illuminated profile, the expanse of his chest as he breathes in, the colour of his skin under silver rays. He’s stunning.

You smile up at him, spent, sated and so astronomically fucked if your brother ever finds out.

Tae must see the thought on your face, because he says, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it.”

But you honestly don’t give a fuck about that right now. That’s a tomorrow issue. What you want to know is, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what, exactly?” He specifies.

You sit up, eye to eye as he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg on the ground.

“All of it. Any of it.”

There.

Now it was out in the open. And the rest is up to him.

You could drag yourself back down to reality. Chalk this night up to booze and bad timing and perfect timing. Could convince yourself it was just one night and that it would have to be enou—

“All of it,” he interrupts, the most sincere expression you’ve ever seen on him on full display. “Definitely all of it. Every last fucking word.”

You slump on your exhale, so fucking relieved you didn’t have to keep trying to lie to yourself that you could forget this happened.

You’re laughing before you can fight it off, shoulders shaking. Smiling so wide it hurts.

“Uh..YN?” Tae asks, clearly not sure how to take your reaction and you compose yourself.

“That’s PG to you,” you say as you crawl onto his lap, and kiss him into oblivion.

It’s interesting to finally sit on the dock across the way in East Egg.

The fog is gone, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the little box you kept sits open next to you, the lock and its key lost somewhere to the depths below your feet. Funny how harmless it seems now that there’s nothing locked inside anymore, like it could never really have hurt you in the first place.

You take in your newly emptied creation, and quirk a brow when you see it move.

A wiggle at first, before it’s shaking and spinning and shrinking, turning from a box into a glass windowed locket. Golden and delicate and beautiful, with a matching chain. You ponder for a moment what it could be for, before turning to look down at the green light to your right.

An idea strikes.

Unclasping the little window, you lift the opened pendant to the green light. And to your delight, the emerald hue hops into its new home, closing its tiny windowed door.

You smile at the clever little light, lacing the chain around your neck, resting it on the middle of your sternum, right above your heart. Its brilliant hue shining brightly through the pane for all to see.

Funny how the green light you so longed for, longed for you back, and is now yours for keeps.

A/N 2.5: This is what has been rotting in my brain for the better half of two weeks so please enjoy, it was supposed to be short and trope filled to cure my writers block but apparently I am incapable of short. But trope filled it clearly is. Overall tho, I'm quite pleased with this one.

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

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chanifesto · 1 day ago

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 smart girl | go hyuntak

pairing: hyuntak x afab!reader (weak hero class 2)

synopsis: a university au in which hyuntak, determined and mighty and ready for anything, turns to mush in your presence. that is, until he has you turning into mush under him.

genre: somewhat of a smutty slowburn

word count: 8.1k

warnings: [MDNI!] explicit sexual content, softdom!hyuntak, making out, grinding, pet names (baby, pretty girl, smart girl) nipple play, oral (f rec.), fingering, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it! please!), mentions of STI testing and birth control, just enough consent checks, absolute devotion, your insides are soft, his outsides are hard, gosh he’s such a simp for you, i have never written smut before proceed with caution

reader notes: written with afab!reader in mind. reader has breasts, a vagina, and hair long enough to fall over their shoulder. all characters are consenting and over 18 yo.

⋆. ۶ৎ˚⊹₊⟡˖ ࣪ 𝓵𝓮𝓮’𝓼 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓮 ࿐ i am feverishly starved for this man. it’s only right i dedicate my first post to him. enjoy (at least, i hope you do).

Hyuntak thought his heart was about to ram out of his chest.

He was perfectly serene ten minutes ago, when it was just him, Hu-min, Jun-tae, and Si-eun at a booth in the university cafeteria. Perfectly serene basking in hoarse laughter at Hu-min’s flimsy puns. Perfectly serene, before you padded towards their table alongside Hu-min’s girlfriend, a textbook caged against your chest, the slightest quirk of a smile clutching at the corners of your pretty lips in response to something Hu-min’s girlfriend had whispered to you.

You slid into the bench opposite of him at the other end of the table, quietly greeting the other boys as you slipped your tote off your shoulder. If Hyuntak hadn’t been ambushed by his own nervous system, he would have seen the kind eyes you offered him instead of finding a sudden interest in the nutrition facts of his energy drink.

He was perfectly serene ten minutes ago, before you got there.

And now you sat there, gently scribbling in your agenda, your plush bottom lip softly caught between your teeth, unaware of the fevered anguish you had inflicted upon him.

Hyuntak, who was previously doubled over in laughter, was now pressed against the back of his chair, sweaty palms rubbing ever-so-slightly against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Heat had begun to ghost down the sides of his face to his neck. The last time he was this strung out was for his first basketball tournament, and that was seven years ago. Gosh, the things your presence did to him.

Hyuntak curtly flips over his wrist to check the time on his watch, just as he did thirty seconds ago, and thirty seconds before that.

His chest expands in a quiet huff. He had fifteen minutes before he had to leave for his class, more like twenty since the first ten minutes of the hour are allotted for students to relocate between possible back-to-back classes. Hyuntak always believed he could get to his classes in five—a belief he always proved wrong.

It was the start of a new semester, so it only made sense to depart earlier than he usually would to locate his lecture hall in time for class. This logic was foreign to him, he was never concerned about getting to class on time, just as long as he showed up.

But he had to get away from you.

Had to get away from this feeling you were giving him, the feeling you gave him whenever you came around.

Hyuntak only ever saw you with Hu-min’s girlfriend—your best friend—and that, too, was usually just on campus. You would show up to their group together, and then you would flip open a textbook or write in your agenda or type notes onto your laptop. It seemed like it didn’t matter where you were, you were always studying, always ready to put that pretty brain of yours to work.

And that’s how it typically was. Hyuntak had never exchanged more than a few words with you because you were always studying, but he was slowly charmed by you.

He adored the scrunch of your eyebrows when you were stuck on a practice question, adored the tip of your tongue sticking through your pouting lips whenever you were writing something, adored the way your hair would fall over your shoulder whenever you leaned into your textbooks.

He adored you, but he loathed the feeling you gave him.

The tight chest, the heartbeat on a rampage, it was all so foreign to him. Hyuntak, who was usually so poised, so vigorous, and sometimes a little arrogant, was absolute mush in the palm of your hand.

And you didn’t even know it.

Hyuntak slid his chair back with a crisp screech, pushing himself up into a stiff stance while catching the looks of the acquaintances around him.

“What’s wrong, Gotak? Where are you going?” Hu-min questioned, a reminiscent grin charming his features from what must be the aftermath of a joke Hyuntak was too zoned out to hear, his arm slung over the shoulders of his girlfriend and head hung back to look at Hyuntak’s face.

“I have class.”

It’s an abrupt response accompanied by Hyuntak’s darting eyes at Hu-min before he swiftly leans down and collects the strap of his backpack in a tight grasp.

Hu-min reaches for his phone on the table, tapping the screen. “But you don’t have class for another…”

“Fourteen minutes, I know,” Hyuntak brisky replies, straightening up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. His eyes remain downcast as he shuffles with rapid feet to the side of the table, his hand rushing to grab the back of his chair to push it in.

“So why-”

“I need to find the lecture hall,” Hyuntak spurts out, his eyes bulging at Hu-min against his own will. Hu-min’s eyebrow quirks into a raise, his eyes holding Hyuntak’s in a quiet stare.

“Where is it?”

This is not a voice Hyuntak was expecting to hear. This was the last voice Hyuntak needed to hear.

Hyuntak’s billowing eyes find themselves striking at your figure standing at the other end of the table, your tote hung over your shoulder and textbook gripped within the embrace of your arms once again. When did you even get up? Did you always move so quietly?

“Huh?” The dumb-witted sound clambers out of his throat. Did Hyuntak imagine that? He doesn’t think so, but he hopes so.

“Uh, where is it?” Your voice is quieter when you repeat yourself, almost hesitant, “I was going to look for my lecture hall now, too. I thought, if yours is in the same building, we could walk there together.”

Hyuntak stares at you blankly, eyes still bulging.

Did Hyuntak imagine that?

He had to have. There’s no way you’d pay him any mind, no way you’d want a guy like him around you, walking you to class, beside you and breathing the same air as he walked you to said class. What if your hands brushed on accident? You probably wouldn’t want that, you probably think he has sweaty hands, all calloused from the rough rubber of basketballs and the many years of taekwondo. You probably think his fingers are grimy and his hair is greasy and his teeth are yellow and his breath smells bad and his–

“Or– we don’t have to.”

Your voice is nimble, but it’s enough to stir Hyuntak out of his head. His eyes blink at the sudden impact of mental whiplash.

“We’re probably in different buildings anyway–”

“North building.”

Hyuntak’s breath had entered his lungs but had not returned back out of him. He stood still watching you, waiting for your response, and if you weren’t fast enough, Hyuntak thought he might faint from lack of oxygen.

You gaze at him, and then your plump lips tug into a small smile.

“Me too.”

⊹₊⋆✩⋆₊⊹

Hyuntak’s fists were moistened with perspiration, and the cool winter air made no difference to the toasting skin of his face. It definitely didn’t help that you were trotting beside him, your textbook cuddled in your cute arms, your soft hair wisping with each breath of wind.

Hyuntak was determined to stare at anything but you. The trees lining the brick path, the students walking in all sorts of directions, the static dead leaves caught in the corner of a building. What a coincidence that all these things happened to be on the opposite side of him, the side that had no indication of your being.

Your acknowledgement of this was unfortunate for Hyuntak, whether you realized it or not, so when he heard the sound of your mellow voice prick his ears, he couldn’t help the way his shoulders jumped and head snapped.

“Do you not like me?”

You said it with a chuckle, eyes kind but curious, squinting at him, assessing what his body was subconsciously trying to tell you.

His shoulders had dropped but remained strained closer to his midline. His lips had pursed into a clueless pout, eyebrows drawn and stiff, conjuring a faint patch of creases between them. His wide eyes, however, glinted, in awe or fear you did not know. But, they glinted.

And then, Hyuntak eased. Like water, his body flowed into his more natural posture. His fingers flexed in his sweatpant pockets and his eyebrows anchored down. His eyes, faintly glossed, blinked into a squint.

He was an idiot.

“No, I do like you– I mean, I don’t not like you, you’re cool. I just, yeah, I think you’re cool,” he blurts, “Why do you ask?”

His face is blank as he eyes you. Your lips spread out marginally in amusement.

“You’re always laughing around with Hu-min and the others before I show up. Then you get all quiet and distant,” you explained, “It gives me the feeling that you don’t want me around. I thought you just didn’t like me.”

Oh, he was such an idiot.

“I don’t like you?– No, what, why would you think that? That’s absurd.” Hyuntak almost doesn’t feel himself scowling. You watch him, amusement still soaking through your face. “You’re always studying, I’ve barely spoken to you. I barely even know you.”

You gaze with a giggle.

His scowl tightens. “Just– can you– gosh,” he huffs, “What room is your lecture in?”

“One fifty.”

Hyuntak’s scowl simmers. His eyebrows knit together.

“That’s where my lecture is.”

“Linear algebra?” You question.

His features question you in return. “Yeah.”

“Oh, we must be in the same class then.”

Hyuntak feels sweat begin to coat the insides of his fists again. He never expected to see you in any of his classes. He had never seen you in any of them before. And linear algebra? What could you possibly need linear algebra for? You obviously weren’t in his program, so what’s with this?

“Do you need to take it for your program?”

You shake your head. “It’s my elective.”

Of course, you, with your angel face and luscious hair and pretty, big brain, were taking linear algebra as your elective.

“Right, okay,” Hyuntak huffs.

Of course you were.

⊹₊⋆✩⋆₊⊹

It had become routine for you and Hyuntak to walk to your shared class together. Hyuntak, who was always five minutes late rather than early, found himself showing up to the lecture hall and waiting for the previous class to finish. And you? You were always right there, right by his side.

As the semester progressed, so did your friendship with Hyuntak. It started with faint encounters—he would ask you simple questions about lecture material during lecture breaks. Soon, the two of you had started doing the assigned practice problems together in the campus library. At first, it was just after class. Then, Hyuntak decided he needed more of your help.

Or perhaps, he just needed more of your time.

Hyuntak was quite competent in mathematics. As quick as you were with solving problems, Hyuntak offered himself as fair competition. He definitely benefited from the wisdom you could bestow upon him, but he most definitely did not leech off of it. No, Hyuntak was quite competent. He just needed more you.

Hyuntak’s nervous system gradually surrendered to him. He found, the more time he spent with you going over questions, he no longer felt a winding in his chest, no longer felt his breath retreat from its post. His hands remained as dry as the Sahara, and he wouldn’t want them any other way.

Eventually, Hyuntak found himself asking you to cafes—wouldn’t it be nice to study with a warm drink?

You had obliged with no hesitation, leaving Hyuntak with a pleasant feeling fogging through his chest and vessels and bones.

He took you to cafes littered across the city, all around the campus exterior. A French cafe, an Italian cafe, he’d even taken you to a cat cafe, one where you were both guaranteed to get the least amount of work done, falling victim to tufts of fur and fluff.

When he learned of your love for reading, Hyuntak took you to a book cafe and watched, no, admired as you browsed through the shelves, grazing the spines of different books with your pretty fingers, eyes wide and marveling.

The only mistake Hyuntak had made was taking you to a cafe that specialized in your favourite drink. He almost didn’t fathom the anguish that smacked him when you moaned in pleasure from your first sip.

“Mmm.”

He couldn’t move a nanometer. He couldn’t swallow the sip he had taken from his own drink. He could only listen to you, hear your ethereal sound reverberate within the walls of his head.

“God, this is so good. Where did you find this place?”

Hyuntak gapes at your plush lips, the gate to all the pretty sounds that could be elicited from the deepest parts of you. He can’t help but let his own lips tingle at the ghost of what yours might feel like against them, what they’d look like wrapped around his tip–

“Hyuntak?”

He thinks he can feel the hot blood that was rushing to his cock freeze in his vessels.

He swallows. “Huh?”

“I said, it tastes so good, where do you keep finding these places?”

Your eyes look so innocent peering at him, so oblivious to the dirty picture Hyuntak had painted of you, of your lips, your sound…

“Oh. I just, I guess I know my way around the city,” he muses, “I like to try new things, new places out.”

“Well, keep trying out new places,” you say. Then, you take another sip, “Mmm, it’s so good, Hyuntak.”

Yeah, taking you here was definitely a mistake.

⊹₊⋆✩⋆₊⊹

The semester was nearing an end, and so came the final round of assignments.

A wave of tension had ambushed the entire collegiate crowd. The library was full to the brim with students cramping over assignment materials and lecture content, the hallways of each building were full of chatter either discussing chapter solutions or champagne problems. No one had missed being swallowed by this sea of stress.

You and Hyuntak had succumbed to it fully.

“This question makes no sense,” Hyuntak muttered, slowly swaying himself in a chair in the empty classroom you’d both colonized, staring at the assignment question that lit up his laptop screen, chewing down on his lip and winding a pencil through his long fingers.

You stood before him facing the black board, chalk painting your fingers as you scrutinized the scribbles you had flowered the board with, trying to make sense of the question at hand.

“There was something similar to this in chapter thirteen, but it’s not quite the same...” you murmured.

Hyuntak forces out a heavy huff. You shuffle to face him.

“We can stop now, we’ve put in a good amount of work, and we’re making progress,” you suggested, watching his form swaying, basking atop the chair like he owned the entirety of the university.

He was clad in a tight black t-shirt. You couldn’t help but wonder at his biceps, swoll from crossing his arms. His legs were spread, concealed in black sweats to match. His hair, tousled over his eyes from his veiny hand raking through his strands each time he felt a slap of tension gifted from the assignment question. And his eyes, god his devil eyes, they drank your figure in like red wine.

He sighed, still eying you. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s stop here.”

You nodded and turned to collect your things.

There was a pause, and then, “Would you…”

Your head swiveled to face Hyuntak again, your hand reaching into your tote with your pencil case. “Mhm?”

Hyuntak had stopped swaying, his feet planted against the floor. His biceps, still crossed against his chest, swelled at you. His bottom lip rolled between his teeth.

“Would you wanna come over to mine on Saturday?” His voice is timid, but it doesn’t waver, “We can finish working on the assignment. And, I can make us ramen.”

Hyuntak blurted the last comment in hopes of further persuading you into his humble abode. Luckily for him, it seemed to have worked, and he almost clutched his chest as his heart fluttered to the ring of your giggle.

“Sure, I’ll see you Saturday,” you smile, “Promise you’ll make it good?”

Hyuntak grins and sticks out his pinky.

⊹₊⋆✩⋆₊⊹

Saturday had circled around, and Hyuntak was circling around his coffee table, kneeling to, once again, fix the vanilla-scented candle—the one he had bought and lit just for you—before moving it back to its original place, when you knocked at his door.

Hyuntak heaved himself up off his carpeted floor. His heart was steady, his lungs didn’t betray him, and his nose was happily lazing in the scent of warm ramen and vanilla, but he still found himself wiping his hands across the front of his sweatpants as he walked over to the door, his hands scrunching at the soft material before reaching for the knob.

He pulled it open, revealing you on the other side, and he swears he feels his heart stop for a millisecond.

You looked the way you always did, if anything, you were just a little more undone. Bare faced, your delicate hair combed back in a clip. You had worn a flimsy black t-shirt—gosh, no bra?—that fit snug along your torso, and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on your hips. Your tote was slung over your shoulder, and your linear algebra textbook was pressed between your forearms and trunk.

You hoisted your textbook snug against your chest once you took in Hyuntak, his welcoming frame swallowed in one of his favourite blue hoodies.

It takes a second for Hyuntak to find his words before he’s welcoming you into his apartment.

“Hey, come in,” he started, “did you find the place okay?”

You scrambled through the door, giving him a smile. “Yeah, it wasn’t too bad.”

He’s closing the door behind you when you shimmy your feet out of your shoes. “That’s good–”

“I think I figured it out!” You declared, traipsing over to his coffee table in a hurried skip.

He watched you take out your supplies, organizing them across the surface of his coffee table, adoring your grace and need for order.

He feels warm, his lips spread in a closed smile, and he thinks the ramen will just have to wait until you’ve had a chance to giddily fill him in on all your ideas.

He carries himself over to the couch and plops down. You sat with your back turned to him, kneeling in front of the coffee table, laying out the notes you had written up since your last study session.

You’re too far for him to hear all the solutions your incredible brain had come up with, so Hyuntak pats the spot next to him. You turn your head.

“Get up here, let me hear your theories.”

Your eyes gaze into his before traveling down to his hand on the couch. You nod.

Collecting your things and joining him on the couch, you start handing him your notes, reciting the details of the solution you had been working towards. He nods along, listening to you ramble about how chapter thirteen had been conjoined to some topics in chapter fifteen, or at least that’s what he’s able to make out of it.

Hyuntak can’t concentrate with your thigh brushing against his every time you move around to grab another sheet or book or pencil. He’s holding your notebook, reading your writing and little scribbles, but nothing's getting through to him. He can hear your voice—your angel voice—but he’s not comprehending the jumble of letters you're spitting out.

He can hear your voice, and god he wants to comprehend you so bad, but his mind is racing, running away from his conscious morality, and taking him to a tavern that offers nothing but hot, liquid lust.

Hyuntak feels searing blood surging through his body, feels it pool into the rod between his legs. His face is starting to heat up, and he’s afraid of leaving moist fingerprints on your pretty notes. His breath is starting to gallop, his chest raising just a bit higher and falling just a tad deeper. Hyuntak, who had grown to be so cool and calm around you, was now hot and desperate, and instead needed you around him.

Your thigh feels so supple against his, feels so grippable. Hyuntak can’t help but wonder what both of them would feel like pressing into the sides of his face–

“Hyuntak, are you listening?”

You’re looking at him, your eyes kind, pitifully unaware of how Hyuntak had you spread out in his head.

“Huh?” Hyuntak doesn’t think he can conjure any other sound, let alone move any muscle in his body. Your notebook rests in his lap, balancing against the wrath of a hardening cock you were faultlessly oblivious to.

Your lips tug into a mellow frown. “I was telling you how we approached the matrix incorrectly in the beginning. Hold on, maybe I should just show you the textbook chapter I’m referring to.”

You turn towards the coffee table and reach over for the textbook, bending just enough for the dainty lace of your white panties to peak over the band of your sweatpants.

Hyuntak thinks he might cry.

“Y/N…” It comes out as a soft mumble, just audible enough to get your attention, wisping out of his mouth and traveling through the now viscous, honey-like air.

You swivel towards him, the textbook sitting in your lap. The lace of your panties shy back into hiding.

“Mhm?”

You’re gazing at him with those godforsaken prudent angel eyes. His feel so heavy, so full of heat and desire, and he’s staring at you with them, begging you to unravel the things you were doing to his body.

He thinks you need a little help, so he lifts the notebook from his lap, unveiling his aching cock stretching into the tightening fabric of his sweats.

He watches your eyes shift to the subtle action, watches the skin around them spread back, and—fuck, your pupils are dilating?

His breathing has deepened, and his dark eyes droop into begging slits. He needs you so bad, has been needing you all these months, but he doesn’t just need your body.

“These weren’t my intentions,” his voice is so low, so gentle, bordering on a whisper, “please believe me. I’ve liked you for– fuck, I don’t know, a millenia I think.”

His eyes wash all over your face, searching for any indication of a reaction, perhaps even reciprocity. He follows your eyes traveling back up to meet his.

Your gaze is velvety, eyes heavy-lidded and chasmic. You’re staring at his lips, parting with each deep breath he takes.

“Do you like me too?” Hyuntak’s heartbeat hurts. His heart rhythmically hammers against its thoracic confines.

You nod. His heart cramps.

He needs to hear you, has to savour his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet confession.

One of his hands slowly reaches up to the clip imprisoning your hair, unclipping it and letting your hair brush down your neck.

The clip falls from his hand and onto the space on the couch behind you. He snakes his hand past your hair, lets his fingers graze into a delicate hold on the back of your neck. He gently rubs.

“Words, baby.”

You think you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“I like you, too, Hyuntak,” you murmur.

Hyuntak exhales.

“Please, can I kiss you?” It’s a muted whimper.

You pry the textbook and sheets of notes off your lap, pushing them onto the couch beside you, before you lean into Hyuntak, answering him more viscerally than he had calculated.

The hand on your neck is hooking you in, responding to your movement.

The heavy lids of your eyes give up, closing to a shut.

You definitely can’t breathe now, and there’s no point in trying because your lips are molding into the plush pinkness of Hyuntak’s.

It’s such a desperate kiss, you're both moving into the plushness of the other. You think you can taste his hunger on his lips, and you think you might wail because he tastes starved.

Hyuntak swats your notebook onto the couch beside him, fingers gripping into the supple flesh of your neck and slowly grazing down your back. His hand falls to your hip, squeezing it, his other hand clutching your opposite thigh to work you onto his lap.

Your body yields to him. Lips still moving into one another, you let him guide your hips onto his.

You break away, noses grazing, breaths deep. And then, you’re latching back onto each other.

The seconds melt, stretching like honey between your mouths. It’s slow, then urgent, and everything in between. It’s you and Hyuntak pouring months of anticipation and desperation into each other. Your lips are swelling against the other, saliva mixed into a drowsy potion that you both keep lapping at.

Hyuntak’s hands are gripping onto your hips, and you find yourself grinding your heat down into his hardness. He groans, his sound reverberating into you, and grips harder, pushing himself up into you. His body responds to you unconsciously.

Your lips are melting into one another, your hips are joined right where you both needed each other, separated by what you both thought was too much fabric. The leisurely friction heats the slit between your legs. You feel the hard curve of his cock rubbing the moistening patch on your panties into your hole.

Hyuntak’s hands are silking their way into your shirt, rubbing and gripping your bare waist, when he breaks away.

He’s panting, his voice hoarse, nose chafing yours. “Bedroom?”

“Please.”

And then your lips drive back into each other.

You’re wrapping your arms around his neck, his around your waist, when he pushes the two of you into a stand, staggering across his apartment to his bedroom with your body pressed against his. Your hands are feeding into his hair, tugging, luxuriating in the softness of his strands. You feel him moan against your lips.

When you break away, it’s almost painful. You didn’t need to breathe anymore, you just needed his mouth on yours, lips working into yours, sucking your tongue against his.

He lowers you onto his bed, and you finally get to see what had become of him.

His lips are swollen, red and covered in a blend of your spit, parted to let the string of quick, deep breaths flow out of him. His hair is fluffed, strands sticking out to where your hands had been, almost aching, reaching out for your touch again. Dark strands loll over his eyes, his heavy, heavy eyes that crawl over your body, licking, biting, sucking at your supple skin with his leaden gaze.

You’re no different. Your pout has swelled, pink and wet. Your nipples pebble against the material of your shirt, breasts raising with each hallowing breath that flutters past your lips, weeping out for his hands to touch them. You’re leaning back on your hands, your legs spread into brackets fit just for Hyuntak’s frame.

His hands reach back and grab onto his hoodie, pulling it over his head, letting it fall from his pulsing forearm and to the ground.

His golden skin looks so warm to touch, and you think you might reach out to graze your fingers down the ridges of his tight torso, but Hyuntak is already moving.

He’s leaning down into you, his arms caging your waist, warm hand brushing along your lower back. He’s catching your lips in an embrace, softly sucking onto your bottom lip, licking it and letting it swell in his mouth, then pulls away to look at you.

His fingers rub the fabric of your t-shirt between their tips. “Can I take this off?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

There’s a warm glint in his eyes, and then he nods. His hands slide under your shirt, savouring the heat of your waist, before lifting it up and over your head.

There’s an inviting coolness in Hyuntak’s room, and it hits your fiery skin, dousing over the upper half of your body, hardening your nipples even more.

You peek up at Hyuntak.

He’s already gazing at you, eyes soft, smooth like melted milk chocolate, slowly breathing through his nose. Your shirt falls from his hand, onto the blue pool of his hoodie.

Hyuntak is taken by the sight of your half-naked body. He thinks he nearly salivates when his eyes fall over your pretty tits, the most beautiful pair he thinks he’ll ever see. Perfect, simply because they were yours. He can’t help but let his tongue scrape against the roof of his mouth, trying to mimic the way he wants to lave over your hardened nipples.

There’s a genial quirk to his swollen lips. Your cheeks start to flush, heating from the warmth of his gaze, and you feel a wistful smile takeover your features.

Hyuntak leans back down into you. A strong arm curves against your back, the pads of his fingers whisper with the soft hairs prickling across the back of your neck.

He delicately pulls you down against his mattress, and you let him. His forearm rests near your head, keeping him above you as he kisses you again, slow and wet.

His bare torso is so warm against yours. He’s bent over the edge of his bed, grinding down into you again. Your thighs are grazing his flanks, heels pressing into the edge of his bed, hips grinding up to answer his, scavenging for more traction.

Hyuntak’s arm is pressing your body into his, desperately trying to dissolve your beings together. The feeling of your tits rubbing against his chest makes him shiver with anticipation.

His big hand skims down your back, circling lazily over your waist. It climbs higher up, inching closer to your breast, until his palm smoothes over your peak.

You sigh into his mouth, and Hyuntak is urged to give you more, whatever you need, so he can hear more of your ethereal sounds.

He gathers as much of you as he can into the cup of his hand, pressing into your pretty tit, and gives it a soft squeeze. You moan into him, and he bucks his hips harder into you.

His thumb murmurs slowly over your nipple, rubbing a languid circle around it, rousing a whine from the back of your throat.

Hyuntak groans, pulling away from your lips with a pop, and plants an urgent kiss to the corner of your mouth. He kisses down your jaw, mouth open and hot, onto your neck, gently sucking at your skin.

You’re too swept in the feeling of his hot lips loitering down your complexion to realize Hyuntak has a destination in mind.

His tongue flattens over your pebbled nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

“Mmmm.”

Hyuntak sucks harder, swirling his tongue over the tip of your peak. His hand is pushing more of your breast into his mouth.

Your lips vibrate with moans. Your slick is pooling into your panties, splurging within your pussy lips with each grind Hyuntak offers. Your toes curl into the comforter because of how desperately you're pushing your hips into his. One of your hands is clutching at his hard shoulder, the other basking through his hair.

You needed more, god you needed so much more.

You're pulling Hyuntak’s head off your chest, your fingers gripping into his hair. His lips suck off your nipple, leaving it with a sheen of his saliva, a thin sliver of spit being the only thing connecting him to your breast.

He pops off with a moan, eyes shut tight at the feeling of your tugging at him. He opens them, lids shadowing his sight with desire.

Your eyes are pleading, soaking him in. “Need more, Hyune.”

Hyuntak feels your order shoot straight to his throbbing dick, then nods.

And his lips are back on your skin, soft as sin.

“I’ll give it to you, baby, gonna give it to you so good,” he murmurs against you, moving down your body.

His fingers hook into the band of your sweats. “M’gonna make you feel so good.”

You’re up, leaning back against your forearms. You lift your hips to let him tug your sweats off your legs.

He draws them off, kneeling in between your legs on the edge of the bed. His hands skim over your legs, fingers trailing absentmindedly over the expanse of your skin.

You’re an angel beneath him, almost bare on his sheets if not for your white panties, the cute little bow that decorates the waistband inviting Hyuntak to unwrap you. His eyes dance over you, over the wet patch that renders the fabric just under your hole translucent.

Fuck, you were a wet dream, the most beautiful, cinematic wet dream rejuvenated into reality, spread out just for him, soaking just for him. Hyuntak takes in your angel form, and he is weak.

You were lying there all pretty, on his bed, and Hyuntak can’t help but think the months of prowling with the torturous feeling your presence gave him was irrefutably worth it.

Hyuntak clasps a hand over one of your ankles, lifting it up to rest on his shoulder, fingers lightly grazing up and down. He grapples with the whimper that threatens to spill out of him.

“Look so pretty, so perfect for me.” He licks his lips. “Been such a smart girl, hm? Need to reward you.”

Hyuntak wants to stand there, idolizing you with parted lips, watching your tits expand with each of your breaths, eyes droop with need, hips twitch with hopelessness. But he has to give you what you need, has to make you feel good.

He itches to make you feel good. He has to, after all, you’d been working so hard this semester.

So, he slowly drops to his knees in front of you and pulls your thighs onto his shoulders.

He can smell your heady wetness through your panties, now lucid from your deprivation. He breathes out against you.

His air cools the patch of slick. It’s a potent sensation that has your back curving off the sheets.

“Take them off, please,” it leaves your lips concealed in a whine.

Hyuntak brushes the tip of his nose against your aching bud, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to the soaked patch.

You’re cunt flutters, trying to clamp down on emptiness. You whimper.

Hyuntak slings his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, dragging them through your legs before they finally clear your feet.

He’s gripping your thighs down into his shoulders, drinking in the sight of you, bare and spread for him.

“Such a pretty cunt… my smart, beautiful girl,” he mumbles, eyes drowning in the sight of your glistening pussy, watching your stickiness pool out of you. He wants to savour you, wants to drag his tongue through you with selfishness and greed until he knows his taste buds will be coated with you for days. He wants to take his time, but you had been so good, so smart, working so hard, and you needed him so badly. The last thing Hyuntak wanted to do was deny you for his own pleasure.

He decides he’ll hold you down and savour you another time, before he crashes into you.

Hyuntak licks a thick strip from your hole to your clit. It’s such a delicious feeling, there’s a moan breaking through your voice box, and your hips are delinquently rolling themselves into his tongue.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, licking once across its surface, and letting it go. His tongue squishes through your folds, driving back to dig the tip into your hole, and doing it all over again like a broken record.

The sounds are filthy, wet with lust. You can hear Hyuntak sucking on your clit, hear his tongue squelch and squish through your slick. Moans and whimpers are clambering out of you, whether you want them to or not.

He’s sucking your bud when you feel the tip of his middle finger flit around the outskirts of your cunt. He can feel your walls clench, trying to suck him in, and he smirks against you at your need.

But he can’t hold back on you, so he lets it sink in, lets you coat his finger with your wetness, lets you squeeze around him, before he pulls it back out and glides it back in with his ring finger.

The stimulation is just right. It feels so good with his fingers slowly pumping into you, his mouth sucking and licking your aching nub. You fall back against the sheets, shutting your eyes and dragging the tips of your toes over Hyuntak’s back. Your hand trails down your front, finding his tousled locks, and you twine your fingers into them.

Hyuntak groans against you, stimulating your clit further. He curls his fingers, digging them deeper into your cunt. He slightly flexes them out when you clench around him, resisting your confines and giving you a larger stretch.

You’re breathing faster, deeper, just as Hyuntak’s fingers are working into you. You feel heat spread through your face, down into your chest and through your limbs. Your hips roll with the wave of Hyuntak’s hands. There’s a coiling at your core that has you moaning for more.

Hyuntak feels you rolling your hips harder against him, feels your thighs starting to squeeze the sides of his face, feels you tugging harder at his hair, and he knows he’s drawing you closer to a release. So he plants his fingers in deep and curls them against the spot that has you gushing, whimpering his name over and over, until finally, you twitch, your cunt clenches, fluttering open and shut, and you're a whining mess above him.

Hyuntak lets his fingers rest in your contracting cunt when he pulls away from your clit. He brings his thumb to gently rub against it, helping you come down from your release.

Hyuntak is wrecked. His lips are parted, coated with your slick that dribbles down his chin. His hair is messed from your hold, spiking out and flatted against his forehead. His eyes are heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, draining in how undone you are.

Your sweet, swollen lips are parted, deep pants escaping through them and making your breasts heave with each breath. You let go of his hair, dragging your hand up to grip onto the sheets near your head.

He watches you, and soon becomes aware of his hips bucking against the side of his bed, trying to catch a release of his own.

He’s so hard it hurts, so wet he’s soaked a small patch of his own through his boxers and into the material of his sweats.

Hyuntak doesn’t think his body has ever been so desperate for someone. He’s desperate for you, the girl who’s been unintentionally tampering with his breathing, setting his heart ablaze with white fire, making his palms sweat up an sixth ocean for the past few months.

And now, Hyuntak thinks he finally has you desperate for him, right where he wants you, leaking onto his sheets and moaning his name.

Hyuntak was the most fortunate idiot in the world.

“Did so good, baby, you look so pretty right now,” he sighs, licking at the taste of you on his lips. You peek open your eyes and take him in.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you with a squelch, leaving you empty and squeezing onto nothing.

“Wanna taste?”

You nod. “Mhm.”

He brings his fingers to your lips, coats them with your wetness. They part just enough for him to slide them in. You drag your tongue around them, sucking them further into your mouth, and Hyuntak strains to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head. He thinks he might cum from watching you, feeling you, so he pulls his fingers back, enduring your suction.

They latch off with a pop.

“Want you inside, Hyune. Fuck me, please,” you’re mumbling.

Hyuntak was going to combust. Your words grip onto his paining dick, and he’s bounding onto his feet.

His thumbs slide under the waistband of his boxers, and he pushes them down with his sweats. His cock is springing out, bobbing against his lower stomach, veins pulsing out of his skin. His tip is sticky, glossed over with his precum.

“I have some condoms, Hu-min gave them to me,” he clarifies with a mutter, hoping you don’t get the idea that he's been anticipating sexual encounters, “I’ll grab one–”

“No,” you murmur, “Want you bare.”

Gosh, were you trying to kill him?

He gapes at you. “Are you– are you sure?”

You lazily nod, heaving, back still arched. “I cleared my test, and I’m on birth control.”

He takes a second to process what you said, process the fact that you wanted him bare inside you, then slowly nods, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “Okay… okay, I tested negative, too.”

He mounts himself onto the bed, kneeling before you, fingers rubbing over your knees. You’re slowly breathing, looking up at him with your fucked out eyes.

“You’re sure, baby?”

“Yes.”

And then Hyuntak is caging himself over you, sliding his hand up your thigh and hooking it over his hip.

“Wrap your legs around me, pretty girl.” You obey him.

He hoists you closer to his abdomen and shifts you up until your head digs into his pillows. He lowers himself onto his forearms, his fingers looping into your hair, the soft strands that stray over the pillows.

Your gaze is drowsy, reaching out into his eyes and drawing him in. Hyuntak is reeling his head lower, giving into your spell. His lips feather over your own until he’s pressing them down into a kiss far too innocent for your current arrangement.

Your legs, wrapped snug over Hyuntak’s hips, drag him down until the length of his cock rubs into your wettening folds and he’s whining into your mouth.

He pulls back his head. God, he needs to be in you so bad.

He snakes a hand down to line himself against your hole, rubbing his tip against you, making you writhe your hips for more.

“Please, Hyuntak,” you whimper, and that’s enough to do him over.

Hyuntak sinks into you, and you moan in tandem.

Your walls are so hot, so inviting, hugging around him like you never want him to leave. He’s pushing himself in, feeling each of his inches get sucked in by your confines.

He looks into your half-open eyes. “Okay?”

“Mmm, Hyune, feels so good, so full.”

He breathes out a moan, dropping his head into your shoulder. Your reassurance drives all the scorching blood in his body to the only part of him that’s buried in you.

Hyuntak slowly pulls himself back out, dragging his veiny rod against your pulsing walls, before he’s sinking himself back into you, filling you full.

He flattens his hand against your back, curving you into his chest, feeling your tits press into him. Then, he’s grabbing onto your hip so he can really start pounding into you.

The squelch of your pussy around his pumping cock fills the room, your little gasps and broken whimpers serenade the fibres in his ears. His open mouth rests against the base of your neck, wreaked moans sinking into your warm skin. Your hands are in his already unkempt hair, nails digging into his neck and scraping over his upper back.

He’s fucking into you slow, deliberate, letting you feel all his passion, trying to get you to acknowledge the hard times you had given him, or rather, all the times you had gotten him hard. He wasn’t greedy before, but now? Hyuntak believes he has all the right to take you exactly how he wants.

Make you feel the stretch of his cock in your gushing cunt.

Make you whimper and whine over the loving manner with which he pumps himself into you.

He snaps his hips, squeezes onto yours, and grinds his dick deeper into you. His tip grazes your g-spot, and you clench around him, trying to keep him in, trying to make him stay there and rutt into your spot over and over until you’re coming for him all over again. You squeeze your legs around him, attempting to bury him further into you.

But Hyuntak pulls himself out with a groan, pushing against the hold of your cunt and legs. He bucks himself deep inside you again and pulls out with a fastened pace.

He’s so hard, so deep, but he’s still so gentle, so raw. His fingers are wreathing through your hair, the pad of his thumb is circling over your hip bone, and he’s mumbling against the supple skin of your neck.

“Taking me so well, baby, fuck.”

“Feel that? Feel how hard you made me? It’s all for you, just for you.”

“Been getting me so hot and hard for months. Gonna fuck it all into you now, m’gonna make you take it.”

You’re whining at his words, rolling your hips to match his pace.

The hand on your hip is smoothing over your lower stomach, his palm pressing into it when he pounds into your g-spot again. You’re whimpering at the friction of his tip against your sweet spot, gripping whatever part of him you can get your hands on. Then, he’s sliding his hand down, his fingers pushing your swollen clit out from under its hood, and rubbing down into it.

The pressure is enough to make you twitch, chasing your second release. Hyuntak is still rutting himself into you when you feel the coil burst in the depths of your abdomen, you cunt finally giving in and clenching down on his cock again and again and again.

“God, Hyune– nngh.”

Hyuntak’s hot, heavy eyes are pouring into yours when you come undone for him again. He basks in the moans trailing out of your parted mouth, and when he hears you repeating his name, masked in lewd whines, he feels a coiling of his own brewing deep within him.

His abs tighten, arms bulge, hands gripping into your hair. His mouth falls open with groans, and he whimpers your name when the tense string finally tightens and snaps. His hips are worn, bucking into you hopelessly, wretchedly, and his deviled cock is draining your spent pussy walls with his hot seed.

He’s spurting into you, and you're clenching onto him, wrapping your tight walls around him and sucking up each drop he has to offer you.

He fucks his cum deep into you with one more thrust before his hips slow to a stop inside you. He’s still lazily rubbing over your clit, halting with a chuckle when he feels you squirm from overstimulation.

You're both panting, noses rubbing softly, and Hyuntak wants to stay like this forever, with his cock stuffing you and your cunt full of his searing cum. But he knows he can’t, and he can feel himself softening, so he delicately starts to pull himself out of you.

You let out a low mewl in protest, and Hyuntak answers you with a mellow whine of his own.

He twists himself to lay on his side next to you. His eyes wash over you, over your hair sprawled in a sea around your head on his pillows, your plush, still swelling pink lips, your eyes, now soft and kind, squinting at him when you smile up at him.

Hyuntak melts, and knows he’s never seen anything more beautiful. He wants to wrap you up in blankets and kiss you all over your glowing face, but he thinks you’d benefit more from something edible.

So, he smiles back at you and says, “I made ramen, I promised you, didn’t I?”

You giggle, your hands reaching for his neck and pulling him down to your lips.

“Maybe after one more round?” you suggest, mumbling against him, eying him with a playful twinkle.

Hyuntak thinks he feels his blood mockingly rush back into his cock, and he’s a goner.

The ramen will just have to wait. Again.

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back2bluesidex · 1 year ago

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J-Hope Fic Recommendations (18+)

If you are already following me for quite some time then you should know that I am a massive masochist and I like to torture myself by reading and writing angsty stories. So, most of the stories that I recommended are angsty as well (might as well have sad endings). So please carefully read the warnings before proceeding. Have a happy reading.

And please don't expect much from me. There are several other rec lists far better than mine. The only motive I had behind creating this list to promote some of the stories, which I think are very underrated. especially angsty ones. These stories are beautifully written so.. I just wanted to let the authors know how phenomenal of a job they have done (As a writer myself I know how much this actually means). Thanks to these amazing writers and I am grateful that they decided to share their work here with us.

[Minors please stay away from my blog!]

Key: F - Fluff, A- Angst, S- Smut, Y- Yandere, *- Personal Favorite

Oneshots

1. Ash from his fire by @filmcrystal - A, implied S, cheating au

It will break your heart so please proceed with caution.

2. Forbidden Fruit by @deepdarkdelights - A, Y

This one deals with several triggering topics. Hence, read the warnings carefully. But I can say that you will love this twisted mafia Hoseok way too much!

3. Shadows by @borathae - A, exes au

One of the most underrated stories I have ever read! Yeah, it is very angsty and Hoseok is so cruel but... we all are masochist here. lmao!

4. Heaven sent by @aquagustd - A, F, S, f2l au

Sexy soccer player Hoseok is just another name for perfection.

5. Bound by @explicit-tae - S, kinda f2l

Talk abut BDSM! GOOOD Sweet Lord!!!

6. Jigsaw by @sunshinejunghoseokie - A *

I remembered crying after reading this one. So damn underrated that it physically hurts me!!

7. Delta Disorder by @bangtanintotheroom Y, S, Supernatural au

I don't usually read supernatural stuff but this demon Hoseok is way too sexy to skip!

8. Systems of Touch by @yeoldontknow - S, F, tiny A, S2l au

Beautifully written! The author used 100% of their capabilities to write this one. Perfectly drawn Professor Hoseok with a very attractive character of reader. Certainly a treat to read.

9. 2:00 AM by @likeastarstar - A, fuckbuddy Hoseok

Part of a series but can be read as a standalone. and Hoseok is a dick in this.

10. Love Quarrels by @mirahuyooo - A, F, mafia au

A cold yet soft mafia husband Hoseok chases behind his angry wife... could there be anything better than that?

11. The Hook Up ft. JK by @minisugakoobies - S

A little bit of a triangle.. but not love? if that makes sense.

12. Entelechy by @drmflm - suggestive (I believe)

Can't call this one angst and neither is this about Hoseok (he is there, don't worry). This one is more about the reader and her growth and it's beautiful.

13. Orgasms on the verge of a nervous breakdown by @sluttyandere - S, Y *

This is very dark and quite triggering, so please don't read unless you can handle those stuff.

14. For the night by @aseaofyoongi - A, S

I cried. that's all.

15. We Shouldn't by @beahae - S **

Hands down to one of my most favourite Hoseok smuts ever!!! This one has a Jimin follow-up so make sure to read that too.

16. Real or not real by @nmjoo-n - A, S, F **

Again one of the most exquisite Hoseok fics I have ever read!

17. Checkmate by @sunshinejoon - A, S

This was supposed to have a sequel but it is perfect regardless.

18. Do I wanna know - @yoongiphoria - A, f2? ****

Now, MJ knows how much I love this one. I often read this story and I never ever get bored of it! I love this to the core and you should too!

19. Scrap - @silv3rswirls - A, Y, S

Dark and sexy. Read the warnings carefully please.

20. It's a Promise by @sahmfanficbts - S, A, Arranged marriage au

Just read it.

21. Three by @hamsterclaw - S

Again.. VERY UNDERRATED!

22. Wonderwall by @kiara-ish - A with an open ending

Might not be for the faint hearted.

23. Infatuated by @bangtanfancamp - F

If you like high school love au then this one is for you.

24. Constellations of You by @persphonesorchid - S, F, established relationship au

This is so domestic that my heart almost exploded while reading!!

25. Burning flames or paradise by @/yoongiphoria - A, tiny f ****

MJ does magic.... that's all I can say.

26. Alone again by @archivedkookie - A, F

I loooove these kinds of stories. Just the right amount of despair with the right amount of hope... beautiful.

27. Feeling Good by @bonvoyagenoona - A, S

Everything I write about this will fall short.. so I will just shut up and let you enjoy the goodness.

28. Distracted by @dilfhoseokie - S

Ahem..

29. Drink Champaign in my airplane by @/bangtanintotheroom - F, S, F2l

Perfectly embodies a rich hot CEO friend Hoseok... a fun read.

30. Keynote by @missgeniality - S **********

MY MOST FAVORITE HOSEOK ONESHOT TO EXIST IN THE PLANET. yeah.. (this has a follow-up but I like this one better)

Series

The thing is that I don't usually read series. I just don't have that patience. So this list is pretty small and forgive me for that.

1. Transference by @dark-muse-iris - A, S, F, S2l *********************

[Completed]

I wasn't the same after reading this. I can't talk about this trantric therapist Hoseok, 'cause I will never shut up if I start.

2. Kanalia by @xjoonchildx - A, S, f (?) *********************

[Ongoing]

Honestly, who isn't a sucker for Lord Jung? You must be sick if you are not. (On a side note.. Kanalia is keeping me alive from jumping off trains on tough days)

3. Guarded by @/xjoonchildx - A, S, F, S2l

[Completed]

Mafia Hoseok with dogtags. I think that's enough of an introduction.

If you want to read the Hoseok stories I write, you can checkout my Masterlist.

1K notes · View notes

spookyserenades · 11 months ago

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Trouvaille - Chapter Eighteen (M)

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 17.4.k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi everyone!!! Happy summer and OMG SEOKJIN IS COMING HOME SOON. I got another update for you all! Got your typical angst, the ghostbusting trio, some fluffyyyy toothrotting romance, and of course, the return of Sexy Yoongi ;) AH! Thank you for waiting patiently for this update, loves, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this update 💜

As an additional warning/reminder, for the smut: the scene is explicit, and is only intended to be read by those over the age of 18. Please practice safe sex, and readers please have discretion!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“I suppose I did this to myself,” Y/N miserably stuck her head under the inferno-hot water pelting from her showerhead, wondering if she tried hard enough, she could drown herself. “Stupid.”

Scrubbing at her eyes furiously, she attempted to focus on bathing, watching her body wash swirl down the drain. It was useless, however, to prevent her mind from replaying the events that had unfolded immediately after Taehyung’s arrival back home. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she leaned her forehead against the cool tiles of the shower wall, picturing it all again.

“Hey Tae! You’re home!” Y/N called, the Kodiak hybrid flinching an inch into the air, her voice surprising him. He spun around, looking alarmed and like he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be.

Y/N waved him over, only able to see his head over the SUV, and Taehyung pushed a hand through his hair, squaring his shoulders. Lifting an eyebrow, about to ask what was wrong, she felt she was plunged into an icy lake when he stepped towards her.

Taehyung, his camera bag in his hand and eyes laser-sharp, had his clothes in disarray, and purple, splotchy love bites all over his neck. Y/N couldn’t find a single word in her brain that made sense to describe how she was feeling as he stood before her, one of his hands tucked into the pocket of his jeans, which were wrinkled and pulled over his hips haphazardly.

“What are you doing out here?” Taehyung cleared his throat nonchalantly, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary with him. Y/N simply stared, realizing her palm was still mid-air from when she waved at him, and with a jolt, she limply dropped her arm. “You should go in. It’ll be dark soon.”

“I’m… van. Materials for tomorrow, loading them up,” Y/N answered, all choppy and like a rusty robot. “Where… were you? Did you go to the park, or…?”

Taehyung lazily assessed her, his thick eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheekbones as he glanced down at her insecure form. Clicking his tongue, he lifted his camera bag in the air, as if the answer was obvious.

“Yeah. Then I stopped at the rec center. Why?”

Y/N was proud, at the very least, that she didn’t break down after his answer, flat and distant. Deciding, out of spite and feral jealousy, that two could play at that game, and Y/N composed herself into dismissal, shrugging. If he wanted to pretend his neck didn’t look like a rabid hyena attacked it, so would she.

“No reason, just wondering. Can’t wait to see what you’ve been working so hard on these past few weeks,” Y/N chirped, and though it was cheap, she relished in the minute flinch Taehyung offered in response to her words. “I’m gonna head in now. I have a few more things to do before I go back to the Sanders’ tomorrow. Yoongi ordered Chinese food for dinner, it’s in the fridge.”

With that, Y/N flashed Taehyung a tiny smile, Taehyung’s bitten lips parting a couple of centimeters, but not saying another word as he watched her stroll towards the house, her bruised heart thundering painfully in her chest with every step.

“Stupid!” Y/N repeated, banging her forehead against the tile. “Childish bullshit.”

Y/N had icky guilt swimming around in her gut along with the greasy egg rolls she had choked down on her way to the bathroom, ignoring Yoongi’s requests for her to sit down for dinner. Taehyung really didn’t deserve her treating him so coldly just because the Kodiak hybrid had gone out on some kind of date, even if he was lying about it to her face. But when it came to him, someone who was just as allergic to confrontation and sticky conversations as she was, Y/N found that slipping into a tug-of-war of passive aggression was all too easy with Taehyung.

The water in the shower was becoming cold, Y/N cursing, switching the tap off and wrapping herself in a towel. Gut too sour to stay up any longer, she simply slid into her pajamas, promptly collapsing into bed. Distantly, she could hear Hoseok’s loud voice in the parlor, the dim murmurs of the TV, and Jeongguk stomping around his bedroom above her. The sounds were familiar and comforting, but didn’t stop her thoughts from lingering on her Kodiak hybrid. Y/N thought it was high time for her to swallow the bitter pill and perhaps confess her true feelings to Taehyung, even if he was falling for someone else. That way, at the very least, she could begin to mend one of the shattered sections of her heart.

“You look like shit. Did you get any sleep?” Jeongguk accused the next morning, Y/N bristling and not even bothering to flick him off.

After all, she hadn’t, between tangled thoughts of Taehyung and the reminder that she would have to clear the evil spirits from the Sanders’ home the following morning, she was tossing and turning all night.

“We can’t all look like rockstars 24/7,” Y/N replied sarcastically, gesturing to his typical black jeans/black graphic tee combination. That day, he was wearing a Megadeth concert tee, which Y/N found darkly fitting for the scenario they were about to find themselves in. “How are your scratches?”

“Already healed. Not even a scar. What, do you want me to take my shirt off again?”

“Don’t be a smartass today, it’ll push me right over the edge,” Y/N threatened, jabbing a finger into his solid chest, Jeongguk smirking around the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Hurry up and smoke that. Joon doesn’t like waiting.”

With that, Y/N hauled herself into the van, scowling once more at a highly amused Jeongguk, shutting the door so the smoke wouldn’t choke the life out of her and her wolf hybrid. Massaging her sore under eyes, she tripped her way to the passenger seat, smiling weakly at the fuzzy throw blanket that was already placed there for her. Namjoon, fiddling with the radio, assessed her out of the corner of his eye, his lips tugging downwards.

“Heard you didn’t sleep well,” Namjoon commented, Y/N sighing, both buckling into her seat and bundling up with the blanket. “Are you sure you’ll have enough energy to do the ritual? We can always reschedule it for Wednesday.”

“No, no, I’ll be alright. I want to get it over and done with, the family has been in that hotel room for far too long,” Y/N straightened in the seat from her original slouch, so her words seemed more convincing to her perceptive hybrid. “I told Jeongguk not to be a smartass today. The last thing we need is provoking the spirits while we try to banish them.”

“I already spoke to him about that, too. He’s going to do his own ritual, apparently, while you and I focus more on the cleansing. Is that okay with you?”

Y/N had a feeling that the plan the two of them cooked up was an attempt to get Y/N as far away from anything too dangerous as possible. With Jeongguk doing whatever it was he was planning, likely some kind of exorcism tactic he was familiar with, he’d be the one in the line of fire. Additionally, with Namjoon teaming up with her, she’d have him beside her if things started to go sideways.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I hope no one gets hurt this time,” Y/N shivered, sticking her hands close to the vents to heat the digits up. “You’re still gonna let me do some things of my own, right? To help close the portal?”

“Of course, we’re a team,” Namjoon furrowed his eyebrows, reading the vulnerability in her expression.

The van teetered back and forth when Jeongguk yanked the side door open, taking up his usual spot in the back in the booth, scrolling on his phone distractedly. Y/N watched, over her shoulder, him prod along the base of his antlers, one of his eyes twitching as he caught on a tender spot, teeth biting down on his lip ring. She was going to ask if something was wrong, but decided against it when he recovered smoothly, digging through the gear back he packed.

The first fifteen minutes of the drive were peaceful, Y/N humming along to the radio. However, a fleeting thought had her squeaking loudly, startling Namjoon beside her and making him sharply step on the brakes.

“What?!” His eyes were wide, silver ears pressed to his skull, Y/N fumbling for her tote bag.

“I forgot to give you guys your first paycheck! Judy says you two can be official employees at the shop, if you want, and you’ll get paid for all of our consultations, investigations, and cleansings,” Y/N stuck Namjoon’s check in the visor above his head, twisting her torso so she could send Jeongguk’s sailing his way, the elk hybrid catching it with a stunned look on his face.

“Next time, wait until we’re parked, kiddo. The wolf almost drove off the road,” Jeongguk scolded, though he hastily tore open his envelope to check out how much he had been paid for his labor.

“Sorry. I’m just excited! Do you two want to start coming to work with me regularly? I can try and move my hours around to accommodate your book club hours on Mondays, Joon,” Y/N felt more bright than she had in hours, a faint dimple appearing in Namjoon’s cheek as he tried to squash down his excitement. “I could do Tuesday through Thursday, and then whenever we’re needed for consults.”

“Are you sure you can change your work days? I could just come in with you on Wednesdays and Thursdays,” Namjoon appeared sheepish, eyes glued to the road and his tail swishing over the side of his seat.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Judy really likes you two, I’m sure if it meant you being there three times a week, she wouldn’t have a problem coming in on Mondays to cover my previous shift.”

Namjoon quieted down after that, his cheeks coloring all the way to the hoops threaded through his earlobes, Y/N grinning at him and noting Jeongguk’s silence as well.

“Jeongguk, you can just do the consults if you want. You don’t have to stock shelves with us if you’d prefer not to.”

“No, I’ll come. Got nothing better to do,” Jeongguk quickly replied, caught off guard as he set his first paycheck– a pretty generous one, at that– aside. Humming in satisfaction, Y/N squirmed in her seat, getting comfortable so she could center herself for the remainder of the ride to the Sanders’.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open as soon as she sensed Namjoon pulling into the driveway. Y/N wasn’t surprised that she knew, without a doubt, that they had arrived; her ability to feel and distinguish energies had been becoming stronger by the day. Mercifully, it was fairly sunny that day, so even if the house was surrounded by a subtle darkness, at least the sky wasn’t filled with oppressive clouds.

“Ready?” Y/N fixed her gaze on the front door, determination flooding through her when she remembered Tommy’s terrified and exhausted expression, the shadows curling around Namjoon, and the three bleeding scratches tearing into Jeongguk’s back.

“Remember. Don’t use names, don’t address any of the entities specifically,” Namjoon recapped seriously, catching the Zippo lighter Jeongguk tossed him mid-air, likely for the plethora of candles located in the bag the wolf hybrid was holding in his free hand. “Got the stuff from the church?”

“Church?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, looking from him to Jeongguk with great curiosity.

“Yeah, the one in the town square, the Catholic church. We went there for some items the day we went out to replace the camera,” Jeongguk shook his gear bag in front of Y/N’s face, a playful look in his eyes. “Holy water, blessed salt, medallions and whatnot. We’re marrying the Christians to the Pagans today.”

“Ah, I see…”

“Think of it this way,” Jeongguk cut her off, surprising her by placing a tattooed hand on her shoulder heavily. “Whatever I can’t get rid of with the stuff from the church will probably respond to your practice. Right?”

“Right,” was all Y/N could say, trying to savor the elk hybrid soothing her, his fingers squeezing over her shoulder once before letting her go and pulling the van’s side door open. “Be safe, okay, sweets?”

“Mm-hmm. You too,” he smirked confidently, leaping out of the vehicle and heading straight for the front door of the house.

“We’re gonna start outside,” Y/N blinked once Jeongguk disappeared into the house, turning her attention to Namjoon. “Then when we’re inside, we’ll start at the top floor, go to the basement, and end with the ground floor– it confuses the spirits, gets them out faster.”

“Lead the way,” Namjoon inelegantly stumbled out of the van, the clumsiness of the action making Y/N giggle, breaking up the tension that she was feeling. “Ouch.”

“Uh-oh, are you okay?” Y/N sobered up a tad, Namjoon’s ears drooped as he used his free hand to massage his elbow. “Break a bone?”

“I’m sturdier than you give me credit for,” Namjoon muttered, a cute pout tugging at his lower lip. “Want me to place these candles somewhere?”

“No, they’re for inside,” Y/N shook her head, feeling Namjoon follow her to the window where ‘The Watcher’ usually lingered, frowning at the cloudy glass. “All I wanna do out here is bury the spell jars I made in the four corners of the yard and make a boundary with the incense and herb bundles.”

“I can bury the jars,” Namjoon volunteered helpfully, stopping Y/N mid-stride by grabbing her wrist, diving his fingers into her tote bag for the glass bottles. “But stay close to me while you burn the herbs. Promise?”

“Okay, Bug,” Y/N held out her pinky finger, the wolf hybrid staring at the digit quizzically. Snorting, she reached for Namjoon’s hand, linking her pinky with his, loving that she was the first person to show him how to pinky promise. “I promise!”

True to her word, Y/N stuck closely to Namjoon– not just because she wasn’t a promise-breaker, but because Namjoon’s intimidating height and mass made her feel safer the closer she was to him. Focusing, she used Jeongguk’s lighter to spark up the bundle of herbs, inhaling the scent of burning rosemary, sage, and cedar. The two of them worked silently and with purpose, making a slow counterclockwise circle around the property, Y/N shivering as she felt energy push past her and outside of the boundary her and Namjoon were creating.

She knew Namjoon could feel what she did as well, with his ears twitching and an occasional sideways glance to her while she fanned smoke around the yard. In stark contrast to the last time she was at the Sanders’ home, Y/N felt confident and sure of herself.

Though almost all of her focus was on the cleansing, she couldn’t help but think of how Jeongguk was faring inside. Her and Namjoon completed their circle around the yard, ending up back at the window, and Y/N felt a significant change in the energy– she could no longer sense the ickiness of something ancient watching her, but she spent a few more moments waving smoke around the glass pane anyways, Namjoon waiting patiently beside her.

“Let’s go inside. We’re done out here,” Y/N murmured quietly, in the zone. The wolf hybrid, once again, held her hand while she climbed up the slick, wet concrete porch, though Y/N wondered if the reason he tended to do that was because he himself was quite clumsy and needed the reassurance of stability. Either way, it was endearing.

As she pushed open the door, the first thing Y/N noticed was the line of salt sprinkled along the threshold. Because it was still early morning, the house was full of blue light, and didn’t seem as scary as it had when they conducted the night time investigations. Namjoon knew exactly what to do already; so he started straight for the staircase, Y/N swallowing and shadowing him, ears picking up the sound of Jeongguk’s heavy combat boots stomping around up there.

Y/N didn’t have to tell Namjoon how to set up the candles, as they had gone over that part of the ritual at length previously. She simply lit another bundle of herbs in Ms. Sanders’ room, making sure she got every square inch of the bedroom. It appeared that Jeongguk had already tackled that room; salt on the windowsills, medallions placed in various locations, and the odd wet patch on the floor that Y/N suspected was sprinkled holy water.

“Feels good in here,” Y/N commented to Namjoon, though admittedly, she was already getting worried about the two children’s rooms. “Time to move on?”

Namjoon nodded, letting the candle he set on Ms. Sanders’ dresser melt down completely. Glued to him, they met Jeongguk in Tommy’s room, where he was chucking holy water into the open closet, his ruby rosary clutched in his other fist. Softly, he was mumbling something in Latin, Y/N relieved that he seemed to be just fine. As directed, Namjoon placed a candle within the closet, crouching on the floor and watching Y/N thoroughly fill the area with herbal smoke, the heaviness of the room easing up second by second.

Between her silent prayers and Jeongguk’s audible ones, the trio was in Tommy’s room for about twenty minutes before Y/N could breathe easy for the first time in the space, the sun shining more brightly through the windows, and Jeongguk’s constant prayer paused, chewing on his lip ring contemplatively.

“Is it…?”

“Closed,” Jeongguk answered Namjoon resolutely, wiping sweat from his brow. Y/N agreed with him, the closet felt perfectly normal after their combined efforts, so she shut the cracked window in the room to seal the boundaries in place. “The portal’s dormant. All that’s left is making sure we push the rest of the entities out and I think the family can come back safely.”

Without thinking about it, Y/N had a fistful of the back of Jeongguk’s tee-shirt when they finally entered Julie’s room, just in case the entity in there decided to harm him again. The elk hybrid didn’t seem to notice, simply resuming his Latin monologue and chucking holy water at the walls. Gently, Namjoon took the herb bundle from Y/N, taking up the task of filling the room with the cleansing smoke while she clung to Jeongguk.

She had practiced over the past few days extending her protective shield to others, in a way that wouldn’t completely zap her of her energy and cause her nose to bleed, so Y/N took a deep breath, Jeongguk keeping her tethered to earth as she imagined the shield around the three of them. With her eyes closed, she could hear the tiny intake of breath Namjoon made from across the room– Y/N wondering if he could sense what she was doing– but Jeongguk didn’t even flinch, dutifully focusing on making a line of blessed salt along each windowsill while Y/N held onto him.

To the great surprise of all three of them, there wasn’t an aggressive, angry demon that came flying through the room to try and stop their efforts, so as the minutes ticked by and all that could be heard was Jeongguk’s prayer, Y/N let go of his shirt carefully. Y/N didn’t want to entertain the thought that things seemed too easy, so she pushed the thought out of her mind, and instead, she helped Namjoon wrap things up with the smoke cleansing and candle lighting on the ground floor.

“These candles can be lit while no one’s here, right?” Jeongguk leaned against the wall in the kitchen, where she and Namjoon were finishing their tasks.

“They’ll be out before we leave. They’re just tealights,” Y/N stubbed out the herb bundle she was holding onto, taking in a lungful of sweet-perfumed air. The Sanders’ house felt like an entirely different home; airy, bright, and Y/N could hear early spring birds chirping under the window that a malevolent energy used to haunt. “I just want to make sure all the windows are shut before we leave, do one last walk-through… but your plan seemed to work really well. Who would have thought that Pagan and Christian practices mesh so well?” “You’ll soon realize I’m almost always right about these sorts of things, kiddo,” Jeongguk smacked a fresh pack of Marlboros against his wrist bone, pulling a cigarette out of the carton with a smirk.

“Okay, don’t get cocky,” Y/N grouched, shouldering by him and rolling her eyes at his smoky chuckles, breezing through the house for her final walk-through. “Don’t smoke in here, please.”

“No shit,” Jeongguk called after her, watching her figure disappear up the stairs. “Nothing went wrong?”

The second half of his statement was directed at Namjoon, who was packing away spare materials into Y/N’s tote bag on the kitchen counter, the wolf hybrid’s bitten ear flickering with annoyance.

“You’d know if something did,” Namjoon replied simply, slinging her bag over his shoulder, trying to keep the snarl out of his voice. “Start the van while you’re outside.”

Jeongguk distractedly shook the keys to the vehicle in his free hand, already striding towards the front door, Namjoon shaking his head at the elk hybrid’s nonchalance. He himself, however, couldn’t believe how successful the three of them had been, and a strange emotion Namjoon couldn’t tag a name to welled up inside of him when he looked around the house.

Namjoon might have not had the same kind of ability to sense energies in the way Y/N could, but there was a marked difference to how he was able to move around the house, breathe a little more freely, and the primal– still very new– instinct to protect Y/N from some kind of unseen threat eased up the on the chokehold it had on him. Even then, when he was more than confident that they had banished all of the negativity, he found himself hanging back in the living room, listening to Y/N’s light footsteps from above, waiting for her to come back down and join him outside.

“Joonie?” Y/N’s voice floated down from the stairs as she hopped down them, surprised to see him waiting before her eyes widened. “Oh, shit. Do you think it’s okay I said your name?”

Namjoon blinked, watching her chew her lips and glance at Jeongguk outside, in the distance smoking his cigarette by the van. Namjoon didn’t know when he had gotten so used to the handful of nicknames that Y/N had for him, and was shocked that after only two hours of her not uttering one of them, he realized how much he liked that quirk of hers.

“I think it’s alright, now,” Namjoon recovered, shaking away the bizarre emotions he was feeling. While he was interested in the unexplained, that didn’t necessarily mean he enjoyed unexplainable things happening to himself. Y/N’s mouth opened, but it was her growling stomach that interrupted her words, heat flooding her cheeks. “Want to stop for some lunch before we go home? There was a ‘hot pot’ place on the way here I saw you eyeing.”

“I’m either deeply unsubtle, or your perception is on another level. Weren’t you driving?” Y/N accused, making her way to him with a shy grin.

“It’s a mixture of both,” Namjoon confessed, refusing to hand over her tote bag while she opened up the front door and locked it for the final time. “What is hot pot, though?”

“Oh! You get to pick out a broth, and then all of the noodles, vegetables, and meats you want, then you cook it right at your table! I think you’ll like it, you really wanna go?”

Namjoon nodded, waving smoke out of his face from Jeongguk’s still-burning cigarette.

“Yeah, we need to eat,” Jeongguk pried into the conversation, his fingers dancing around the base of his antlers again. “That shit will suck the life out of you.”

Once in the van, Y/N felt loopy satisfaction, sending a text to Ms. Sanders while Namjoon drove to the hot pot restaurant.

Y/N: We just finished the cleansing, with great success! You and the kids should be able to move back in now, and please contact me anytime you need, we’ll be there for you.

Sighing, Y/N glanced at Namjoon, a faint dimple in his cheek that told her he was quite pleased with how things turned out, her heart squeezing in her chest as she poked his sweater-clad bicep– his bushy tail wagging in consequence.

“I’m proud of you two. I’m happy we’re a team,” Y/N admitted seriously, Namjoon clearing his throat nervously at the praise. And when Y/N peeked at Jeongguk, he wasn’t rolling his eyes, he was actually smiling at her, teeth and all, even if there was a glint of teasing mischief across his features.

“I hope you can handle spicy food. I’m getting the Sichuan broth,” Jeongguk announced, neither of the hybrids acknowledging her praise, but Y/N knew that they appreciated it based on their facial expressions. “And I’m not going to share my order of pork belly.”

“As long as you don’t hog the dipping sauces, we won’t have a problem,” Y/N snorted, relaxing back into her seat, looking forward to sharing a triumphant meal with the two of them.

“Ugh, I’m bored,” Y/N complained to the ceiling, slouching on the stool at work with absolutely nothing to do, and nobody to talk to.

Namjoon and Jeongguk were unable to join her at work until the following week, when their paperwork allowing them to be legally employed went through, so she was alone in the dead metaphysical shop. Additionally, she pouted about going home after her shift– all of her hybrids were so busy lately, it was rare that she had quality time with all seven of them at once.

In the two days that followed the cleansing, a whirlwind of events happened all at once. Hoseok had indeed taken up employment at the rec center coaching the junior track team, and spent several hours there organizing things for the spring season and getting acclimated with his upcoming responsibilities. Besides him, Yoongi actually decided to take up coaching part-time as well, even after all of his insistence that he didn’t necessarily want to, so he was gone just as frequently as Hoseok.

Jimin was often occupied outside preparing the garden beds for fast-approaching spring, exercising horses, or tending to the grounds, and while Y/N helped as often as she could, there were only so many hours she could take digging in the frigid dirt and dodging chickens nipping at her heels after a day at work. As for Namjoon and Jeongguk; the two of them were predictably busy with their own hobbies, the wolf hybrid catching up on the book club assignments he was behind on, and Jeongguk obsessively watching videos about paranormal equipment. That left her with Seokjin, who she spent most of her time with, and Taehyung, who was either hardly at home or avoiding her like a poisonous spider.

Sighing, Y/N twirled a pen between her finger tips. With the house cleansing out of the way, she had no more excuses to try and avoid patching things up with Taehyung, or at the very least, attempt to have some kind of productive conversation with him. It broke her heart that it seemed that the home Taehyung had grown to truly love wasn’t something he found comfort in at the moment, so it was her main priority to swallow her pride and restore things to normalcy.

She thought back to the early winter, prior to Christmas, when Taehyung was his happiest. Getting into his photography, sharing his work with her and the others at the expos, hanging out with her and Yoongi in the music room on Fridays while they had their piano lessons and he would listen to records on the floor. Frowning, she reached for the Kodiak Hybrids for Dummies she brought along with her for the post-lunch lull she was enduring, which she had been using the past few weeks to try and glean anything enlightening about his behavior.

Y/N tried to read a chapter of each guidebook simultaneously, so she was finishing up the last few pages of the eighth chapter– one on dietary preferences– for Kodiak hybrids before she’d move onto the next for not just that one, but the six others, as well. The chapters on various diets were entertaining, for sure, but Y/N realized that her boys pretty much ate whatever was in front of them, regardless of the ‘preferences’ listed in the guide books. For instance, elk hybrids allegedly favored fresh, light, vegetable based foods; but Jeongguk was one of the biggest meat eaters in the house. She hadn’t noticed Taehyung having a particular, all-consuming craving for salmon, either, so if anything, the chapter was plainly useless.

Yawning while turning the page, she choked on her own spit when she read what the next chapter was so boldly titled: Mating, Heats, Ruts. Immediately beginning to sweat, much like how she did when she found out what scenting was, she scanned the front windows of the shop, making sure no one was strolling towards the entrance to browse for spell candles.

“What on god’s green planet are heats and ruts?” Y/N panicked, though truthfully, thanks to her past as a vet, she knew exactly what they were in the animal kingdom. She had a nervous feeling that they weren’t so different in the hybrid world, either. “Oh Jesus…”

Hastily, she blew past the chapter title page, hesitantly beginning to read and forgetting all about ‘balanced diets for your hybrid’. For the thousandth time, and likely not the last, she was faced with new information about hybrids she probably should have already known by then.

Mating: Some hybrids will find what they will consider to be their ‘mate’ within their lifetimes. Depending on species, these hybrids will mate ‘for life’ more often than not. The instinct to mate is triggered by the hybrid seeing another as their ideal counterpart. Like their fully animal counterparts, the purpose of ‘mateship’ is for reproduction, but because hybrids are human as well, love and romance is another consideration that the hybrid will factor in when selecting their mate. It is debated whether or not hybrids have control over choosing a mate, some experts claim that is entirely instinct-based, others believe that the hybrid will select a mate once they deem their selection worthy.

For Kodiak hybrids, specifically: the species is known to be serially monogamous, meaning that unless they chose a mate that they intend to stay with for life, they will select a different partner to spend their heats/ruts with each cycle. For those who have mated, jealousy can be a very big issue when it comes to their mate.

Heats/Ruts: Hybrids, when they reach sexual maturity around the age of eighteen, will develop seasonal heats/ruts; the season during the year at which the cycle will happen depends on the species. Typically, heats/ruts can be handled alone by ‘unmated’ hybrids by the hybrid themselves, and will often seclude themselves from their adoptive guardians. Other hybrids seek out a partner to help them through this cycle to ease discomfort, but it is species dependent, as well as dependent on the hybrid’s personality and temperament.

There have often been many cases where a hybrid will not experience an intense heat/rut until they feel comfortable in their environment, but this behavior is seen in exotic hybrids or ones with skittish/distrustful personalities.

As for hybrids that have selected a mate, their heats/ruts will be unbearably uncomfortable and cannot be handled by the hybrid alone. The mated hybrid will feel excruciating pain and discomfort if unable to complete their heat/rut without their mate, and can be threatening to the hybrid’s health and wellbeing. It is important for adoptive guardians who may have a mated pair of hybrids to give them the space to work through the cycle.

Heats/ruts typically last 2-3 days at their height, but days leading up to and after the cycle can leave the hybrid sensitive as well. For more information on how to make your hybrid comfortable during their cycles, refer to page 809.

Kodiak hybrids typically experience their heats/ruts during May-June.

Y/N’s mouth was dropped open and rather dry, reading the pages frantically three times over. Warmth flushed her from head to toe, not exactly surprised none of the boys brought up that aspect of their natures– and it wasn’t like she ever asked. Although she was surprised, and just a touch annoyed, Yoongi at the very least never said anything to her. Fanning herself, she pulled up multiple tabs on her phone, scribbling a messy note on an old receipt.

Seokjin/Yoongi: Ruts any time of year. Lasts between 4-5 days

Hoseok: December-early spring. Usually monogamous. 3-4 days

Namjoon: Mid spring- early summer, but also for two weeks in the second half of winter. Monogamous, mate for life. 4-5 days (excluding the winter rut)

Jimin: Winter. Strictly monogamous. 3-4 days

Taehyung: May-June, serially monogamous. Rut can last anywhere from two days to two weeks

Jeongguk: August-early winter. “Courtship” is important. Rut can last days on and off, sometimes for up to several weeks depending on hybrid.

Y/N was boiling hot all over once she finished jotting down her notes, overwhelmed and embarrassed. Before she could get ahead of herself, or even ashamed that she didn’t know about these specific things about the boys, she crumpled up the sticky note and shoved it deep into her tote bag. She had stressed early on to each of them to tell her if they were ever uncomfortable or needed something, so she concluded (shakily) that since none of them brought up their ruts, maybe they hadn’t experienced them full-force yet. Greedily chugging water from the bottle Yoongi packed her, she narrowed her eyes at the picture of him she stuck to her work computer monitor, swearing to back him into a corner and get him to spill.

Trying to think about literally anything else than her hybrids and their ruts, she pushed the Kodiak Hybrids for Dummies aside and returned to what she was working on for Yoongi’s birthday. The hand-written symbols on the page, ones that were once unfamiliar to her, became a form of artistic expression thanks to her leopard hybrid, and had been erased and rewritten dozens of times by then. Y/N knew she was a perfectionist, but her dissatisfaction with herself had never been so frustrating. Both envying and admiring Yoongi’s raw natural talent, she scanned the page of sheet music, filled with notes she was trying to arrange into a pretty composition of her own.

There was, of course, the struggle of picking a suitable name for the piece as well. There was a list of titles she was playing with, but none fit the vision she had for the composition exactly. Humming, she erased a section of the very last measure, deciding to end the song more gently than she originally planned. Minutes ticked away at lightning-speed while she wrote and rewrote notes, and before she knew it, her shift was up and not a soul came into the shop to disrupt her process.

By then, she supposed she had to be satisfied with the piece; Yoongi’s birthday was the next day. There would be time for her to practice during the day, as she had taken it off from work to celebrate, Yoongi would be spending half of his birthday at the rec center setting up things for the junior basketball team’s spring season. Hastily scooping up all of her books, she locked up the shop, wondering who would be waiting for her at home.

“Hello?” Y/N fumbled for her phone buzzing away in her pocket, simultaneously stumbling into her car.

“Y/N! Christ, what are you, in a tunnel or something?” Ben responded immediately, making Y/N snort.

“No, I’m getting in my car. Just locked up the shop. Can you hear me now?” Adjusting her grip on her phone, she realized she was covering the microphone with her scarf. “How are things?”

“Good, it’s getting warmer finally, huh?”

“Not warm enough. Hoseok is killing me complaining about the cold all the time. Seokjin might hate it more, but he doesn’t complain nearly as much!”

“That fox is a character. Everyone’s doing well, though? How about the new jobs you told me some of them are getting?”

“It’s only day two, but I think the three that picked up work at the rec center are enjoying it. I miss them though…” Y/N pouted, Ben chuckling through the receiver. “Namjoon and Jeongguk are going to start coming to Judy’s with me next week. And Yoongi’s birthday is tomorrow, so I’m excited for that!”

“Big plans?”

“Mmm… maybe not by your standards. Something that suits him, though. I’m taking him out on a date.”

“Romantic. He’ll love it, I’m sure,” Ben agreed with her. “Then again, you could get him a frying pan and he’d treat it like a diamond.”

“Stop,” Y/N groaned, embarrassed. “So, I read something interesting today about hybrids.”

“This ought to be good. What did you find out this time that was obvious to all but you?” Ben teased, Y/N sticking her tongue out at him even though he couldn’t see.

“Okay, Mr. Wonderful. I learned about mating and ruts. I didn’t realize that was a thing for them,” Y/N snapped, Ben dissolving into thick laughter, which irked her further. “What?!”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I can just picture the fucking look on your face reading that in one of those guidebooks you are hoarding,” Ben took a breath, Y/N similarly imagining how red in the face he was getting from laughing at her. “Any comments?”

“Well, yeah. Why the fuck haven’t any of them brought it up?”

“Do you discuss your menstruation or ovulation with them? Why would they, Y/N? It’s kind of a personal thing.”

Y/N flinched, once again struck by Ben’s ability to cut to the chase when she was being a little ridiculous.

“Fair, I suppose,” Y/N squeaked. “I mean, I thought the scenting was a tricky subject to breach.”

“Well, if you’re curious about it, you could always just ask Yoongi or Seokjin, if you’re feeling especially bold,” Ben said, with a teasing lilt. Y/N was a touch mortified. “They love you, they’re not going to shy away from that conversation. I’d avoid bringing it up to that elk hybrid of yours, I think he’d make fun of you more than I am.”

“Another valid point,” Y/N muttered, not wanting to give Jeongguk another round of ammunition to amuse himself with at her expense. “Whatever. Whatever! Maybe I’ll ask Yoongi or Seokjin, or maybe I’ll just wait until they bring it up. I feel like I’ve got bigger fish to fry at the present.”

“I’m sure. You got hybrids, ghosts, and romantic feelings for all of your housemates. You’d make millions on reality TV.”

“Thanks, Ben. Remind me to drop your call next time.”

“See you at brunch on Sunday!” Ben signed off cheerfully, Y/N rolling her eyes and throwing her car in drive.

A slightly-cloudy sky peeked through the windows of the house the day of Yoongi’s birthday. Y/N had shown him, as well as Hoseok, off that morning, the two of them bound for the rec center. The fox hybrid was trying to get Yoongi to wear a pointy birthday hat that was leftover from his birthday, but Yoongi scrambled towards the car before Hoseok could slap it on his head.

Y/N had only a few hours to practice her new composition before Yoongi would be back and they’d head out for the dinner reservation she made, so after downing some coffee while staring at Jimin cutting down some dead saplings in the backyard, she made her way to the music room. Feeling somewhat stealthy with the sheet music tucked under her arm, she passed by Seokjin’s room, the pipes in the wall clanging together telling her he was probably bathing.

The feeling of sitting at the piano bench without Yoongi beside her had Y/N frowning. She had grown ever so attached to his warmth and presence, his gentle, reassuring guidance while she’d play. Huffing, she placed her sheet music on the stand, rolling her wrists like Yoongi would, and began to practice.

For her first composition, it wasn’t half bad. It was nowhere on the level of what Yoongi could come up with, but he had years of composing on her, so Y/N tried not to compare herself to him too harshly. Once again, she changed the ending of the song with her lip tucked between her teeth, worried that she might not ever get it right– on top of that, she still hadn’t picked a name for the piece and she was running out of time.

She was in the middle of playing through the song a sixth time when she was interrupted by the jiggling of the music room’s handle. Before sitting down at the piano, Y/N hadn’t locked the door just in case someone wanted to come and find her, so with minor embarrassment, she halted her playing, glancing at the door expectantly. When the door swung open, she held her breath, recognizing the curly head of black hair right away, a shard of ice piercing through her heart.

Taehyung’s steps into the room faltered, headphones askew on top of his head, as soon as he caught scent of her and realized he wasn’t alone. Beautiful eyes going round, his rounded ears flattened while a feral rumble of shock rolled through his chest, going quite still. Gawking at each other, Taehyung’s mouth dropped open, eyes shifting from her to the collection of CD’s on the shelf. Fingers frozen over the ivory keys of the piano, she watched the Kodiak hybrid inch towards the shelf with urgency, probably trying to get the hell out of dodge. Y/N’s body moved before her mind did, launching her off the bench and across the room.

“Tae, hi,” she blurted, knowing that he could hear her with his Kodiak set of ears, the rounded brown appendages fluttering with the sound of her voice, a Nirvana CD clumsily slipping out of his grasp and clattering to the floor. “Whatcha up to? I didn’t know you were home.”

Taehyung, moving like he was stuck in molasses, slid the headphones off of his ears to hang loosely around his neck, facing Y/N fully. Quickly, she ducked down, scooping the CD off the floor and offering it to him with a friendly expression. Her heart was pounding, ready to bite the bullet and have a real conversation with him no matter what it took. Taehyung’s shoulders relaxed downwards a few inches, his sweater slipping over his wrist as he took the CD, switching off the device he had clipped to his jeans.

“They didn’t need me at the rec center today,” was his response, swallowing. “I just decided to stay here… I thought you had work on Thursdays.”

“I usually do, but I took today off!” Y/N watched Taehyung nod, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek. With the direction of the conversation already, Y/N was feeling queasy; and with the way that he kept glancing at her chest, she could tell he could hear her heart threatening to burst into pieces. “Uh… come here, look! I wanted to show you some pictures I took this week around the shop. The town square looks so pretty right now, the grass is just starting to get green!”

Y/N thought on her feet, grasping for Taehyung’s wrist, which he let her take as well as tow him to the leather loveseat, apparently too stunned to protest. There was electricity zapping through the hand wrapped around his sweater-clad wrist, and considering she hadn’t touched Taehyung in so long, it had her emotions kicking into overdrive.

“Y/N…”

“Sit here, please? I’ve wanted to show you for a little while. It won’t take long!” Y/N hoped her tone wasn’t dripping with utter desperation, but something flickered in Taehyung’s carmine eyes, softening them, so he heeded her request and sat beside her stiffly.

Squirming in satisfaction– the small victory boosting her confidence somewhat– she flicked through her phone, still holding onto Taehyung all the while. Finding the folder of amateurish shots of around her workplace, she placed her phone in Taehyung’s limp, open palm, the Kodiak hybrid’s sharp canines biting down on his lower lip.

“Do you want me to do a shoot here?” Taehyung asked with confusion, his deep voice making her shiver imperceptibly.

Y/N peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, chest squeezing painfully at the sight of his gorgeous face, entirely focused on the pictures he was scrolling through. Dropping her gaze, she briefly glanced at his neck, the bruises she saw there days ago long since faded. However, the memory in her mind’s eye remained, drying up her mouth.

“Would you want to? I can take you there soon, the cherry blossoms in the courtyard will bloom in the next few weeks,” Y/N prayed they were moving a step forward, Taehyung humming lowly, continuing to scroll through her camera roll. Y/N had nothing to hide, so she let him, hoping to continue chit-chatting.

“Yeah, maybe when the flowers bloom, then. For the spring expo.”

“Sounds like a plan, Tae,” Y/N hesitantly leaned her shoulder into his, her hip colliding with the CD player strapped to his belt. “Ooh, any music recommendations for me lately?”

Taehyung’s chest rumbled again, the sound animalistic and raw, and Y/N wasn’t used to hearing it so often those days. Resisting the desire to tuck some of his curls behind his ear, Y/N waited for a reply, Taehyung avoiding eye-contact by examining the pictures on her screen.

“I’ve just been listening to grunge, like always. Someone showed me an artist named Mac Demarco recently, which you might like.”

“Oh! I’ve heard of him. An indie artist, right?” Y/N wondered who exactly showed him new music, itchy jealousy crawling all over her skin.

Taehyung didn’t answer, his thumb stilling over the touchscreen of her phone, intensely staring at the picture he paused on. Curious, Y/N peered over his shoulder to see what captured his attention so thoroughly, a tiny squeak leaving her mouth at what she saw. Taehyung had scrolled so far through her camera roll that he reached the mirror selfies she had taken the night of Hoseok’s birthday, after she finished her makeup and shimmied into her dress.

Originally, she sent the pictures to the Santos twins, but she never intended for other eyes to see her so scandalously posing in front of her bathroom mirror, so she was definitely mortified that Taehyung was gawking at them, Y/N clearing her throat sharply. Taehyung wasn’t broken out of his trance until she repeated his name several times, her phone clattering to his lap as his eyes focused on her again, his irises dark and predatory.

“Taehyung, um. I wanted to talk to you. Last weekend, when you came home from the rec center… I was short with you. I’m sorry,” Y/N’s palms were sweating, Taehyung’s expression surprisingly not wiping blank like she expected it to. “I hope I didn’t imply that you need to tell me where you are at all times, or felt like I was coming down on you or upset with you.”

“I– um, I didn’t think that,” Taehyung’s voice was rough, the corners of his mouth turning down as he angled his body towards her.

“Oh, okay. Again, I just wanna stress, you don’t have to ask me for permission to go where you want, alright? I miss you, though, Tae.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open, his eyes darting around the room like he was trying to find a response written on the wallpaper, bouncing his thigh up and down.

“Miss you too,” Taehyung admitted quietly, winding the hem of his sweater around his finger tips. “A lot.”

Y/N’s eyes began to sting, the raw vulnerability coming off of him in that moment tangible and heavy. His words were profound to her, and if anything, it gave her courage. Not knowing if she’d ever be brave enough again to hurtle off the edge of no return, she reached for Taehyung’s hand, tracing a thumb over the vintage silver ring on his index finger; this time, Taehyung was the one to shiver.

“Uh, so Tae. Hm. You know…”

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Taehyung’s phone was ringing in his pocket, but he promptly ignored it, so Y/N scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment, attempting to continue when the buzzing stopped.

“Right. So, you know I really care about you–”

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Grimacing, Taehyung dove his free hand into his pocket when it began to go off again, sending the call to voicemail blindly, Y/N losing confidence by the second.

“Y/N?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I just wanted to tell you I really care for you, and we haven’t spent a lot of time together lately, but I need you to know–” Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. “Why don’t you get that? It seems like it might be important.” Y/N swallowed down the last of her declaration: I need you to know I love you.

Ticked, Taehyung dug his phone out of his pocket, Y/N catching the caller ID before he picked up. Someone named ‘Diana’ was eagerly trying to reach him, ice water being dumped over Y/N’s flame, her heart stopping dead in her chest when Taehyung let go of her hand and answered the phone.

“Di, what’s up?” Taehyung held a finger up to Y/N, jaw tense, Y/N flinching at the sound of a raspy female voice coming through the phone pressed to the side of his face.

It was like she had become a balloon rapidly deflating, like the string tying it together was pulled free. Palm tingling now that Taehyung’s hand wasn’t resting in hers, she sat there completely flabbergasted.

“No, I’m not coming by the rec center today, Di. I’m developing the photos we took in the darkroom at my house, they’ll be ready next week. I don’t know if I’ll see you this weekend…”

Y/N had heard enough. Knees knocking together, she stood from the couch, Taehyung’s eyebrows pulling together in confusion, ignoring Diana’s whines on the other line. Speedily collecting her sheet music from the piano, she gave Taehyung a wave and a half smile.

“You finish your call, I gotta get ready for Yoongi’s birthday dinner tonight. Talk later?” Y/N was proud that her voice wasn’t shaky or full of pain, Taehyung blinking at her and his expression finally wiping blank again. He gave her a thumbs up, looking out the window as she left.

“Yeah, I know Di. I saw you last weekend, though.” Taehyung’s tone was beyond agitated as she shut the soundproof door, not wanting to spend one more second listening in on the conversation.

She was there, right there. About to tell Taehyung how she truly felt about him, to push past all of the angst between her and him, all for her hopes to crash around her with an interruptive phone call. Any confidence she had to confess her feelings to him was dashed and divided as soon as she heard the Kodiak hybrid call the woman on the phone Di. Taehyung had never given Y/N a nickname before, and that realization had her thinking that perhaps she had overestimated how he felt about her. Perhaps, to him, she was his guardian, someone off-limits romantically, someone that he would deem inconceivable to have those sort of feelings for. Y/N was the type to race, barrel, and fly into conclusions, so she had no trouble believing these spiraling thoughts as she locked herself in her bedroom.

Running her fingers through her hair, yanking the roots, she tried to take deep, centering breaths, like the ones Namjoon taught her how to do. Thankfully, after a few rounds of clutching her bedpost and breathing like a yoga instructor, it seemed to do the trick. Staring at herself in her vanity mirror, she came to one more, positive, at least, conclusion: at least Taehyung wasn’t upset with her, and perhaps he wouldn’t be so avoidant anymore.

Sighing raggedly, she checked her watch, swearing colorfully. Yoongi would be home shortly, so she’d have to move her ass like it was on fire to get ready for the dinner reservation she planned. Putting Taehyung out of her mind, as difficult as it was, she changed gears when she glanced at the silvery dress she picked up for the occasion, which happened to be one of Yoongi’s favorite colors. While she was turning on the shower tap, her phone chimed in her pocket, Y/N forgetting that she managed to swipe it out of Taehyung’s lap when he answered Diana’s phone call.

Yoongi 👼🏻: On my way home.

Y/N: Okay, birthday boy ❤️

Yoongi 👼🏻: 🙄❤️

Surprisingly, there was about half an hour to spare by the time Y/N had finished getting ready. Throwing a light sweater over the satiny dress she pulled on– mostly to prevent Seokjin from having a stroke that she was scantily dressed in early spring weather again– she made sure her hair and makeup was how she wanted it and set out to find her leopard hybrid.

In the hallway, the scent of greasy pizza hit her square in the face. Suspecting that Hoseok probably had Yoongi stop by Sal’s for some dinner before she and the leopard hybrid left for the night, the sounds of an action movie blaring in the parlor had her snickering. For beings with superior hearing, her boys loved to jack up the surround sound. Pausing by the staircase, she could hear Yoongi playing piano upstairs, probably waiting for her. Giddy, she skipped up the stairs, holding onto the old carved banister with reverence. Yoongi seemed to be playing the song he composed for Y/N, making her blush and nearly swoon into the music room.

Yoongi was seated on the bench where she was perched just hours ago. Dressed sharply in black dress pants and a matching dress shirt, the monochrome outfit highlighted the glimmer of his accessories– rings, bracelets, earrings, and of course, the sparkly chain clasped around his throat. His triangular ears immediately twitched towards her direction even if his face didn’t, his tempo never faltering even when she started heading right for him, a tender smile on her face when she ended up behind him. Ducking, she pressed a soft kiss to the crown of his head, in between his spotted ears, giggling when his tail tickled the bare skin of her thighs.

“You look nice,” Y/N purred into his hair, breathing in his shampoo. It was then when Yoongi stopped playing, craning his chin upwards to nuzzle his nose into her neck, making a similar purr to hers. “Happy birthday, Yoongi!”

“Ugh. I’m old,” Yoongi complained, his eyelashes tickling the skin of her throat.

“No you’re not. You’re just 30, the same age as Seokjin,” Y/N poked his shoulder, sliding her palm along his back as she rounded the bench, sitting on his free side.

“Silly girl, furthering my point. He’s old, too,” Yoongi grouched, ears turning back when Y/N swat at his forearm reproachfully. “Don’t whack me, it’s my birthday.”

“You’re sending some mixed signals about that, angel,” Y/N snorted, feeling his hand curl around her hip, fingers sliding along the satin material sensually. “Excited for dinner?”

“You keep hyping it up, are they going to bring out a cake and sing to me?” Yoongi asked, trepidation coloring his gravelly tone.

“Oh shit, do you want me to call and ask if they can do that?” Y/N joked, pretending to pick up her phone and dial the restaurant. Promptly, Yoongi snatched her phone away, stuffing it into the pocket of his dress pants. “Kidding. I just hope you like the food.”

“I’ll eat anything,” Yoongi shrugged, pink blush dusting his cheeks as shy purrs filled the room.

“Wanna play ‘Moonlight Lovers’ before we go? I practiced for you,” Y/N changed the subject, cozy tucked into his side.

“Did you?”

“Mm-hmm. I promised, didn’t I?” Y/N teased, humming when Yoongi planted a kiss on her jaw bone. To his dismay, she got up from the bench, making haste to the opposite end of the room. “You’re gonna sing while I play?”

“Sure, but? What are you doing, silly?”

“Look forward, angel!” Y/N pointed straight ahead, encouraging her leopard hybrid to tear his scrutiny from her fumbling with a telescope-like device in the corner. Slowly, he did.

The lights were low, so Y/N was pleased that the projection lamp displayed the image of the pearly white moon perfectly onto the wall beyond the grand piano. For a small fee on the internet, she was able to give Yoongi the full moon whenever he wanted, and he was a stunned, a still figure on the piano bench when she returned to his side, snuggling back into him.

Y/N didn’t wait for a response to the surprise, instead launching straight into the jazzy first bars of the song with practiced ease, grinning when Yoongi’s sock-clad food pressed over hers on the sustain pedal. Clingy as ever and seemingly recovering, Yoongi rested his chin on Y/N’s shoulder while she worked her way through the first few measures, nuzzling closer to her when she shivered at the ticklish sensation of his ears against her skin.

The world existed and it was just her and Yoongi, his voice quiet when he began singing the first verse, Y/N following along in her head since she had memorized the lyrics by then. Not knowing where his body began and hers ended, it was a miracle she was able to concentrate playing on tempo. The pace picked up at the refrain just before the chorus, and Y/N pushed past her nerves to join Yoongi in singing.

And we met under the moonlit sky

It was you, of all, who caught my eye

When you’re gone, I’m incomplete

No one but you

Has been this sweet

And under the moonlit sky

Across seas, you and I

Never again, will say goodbye

Y/N didn’t consider herself to be a world-class singer by any means, but with the way Yoongi’s arm tightened around her back, she could tell that he liked the sound of it, his own voice cutting off momentarily when she first began to harmonize with him. She played the rest of the song like that, Yoongi still tucked into the crook of her neck, his eyes closed.

Soaking in the moment, something in his chest unfurling and threatening to burst free, he clung to Y/N, spellbound as she perfectly played the last few measures of the song, gentle silence ringing out in the room when she finished. Unable to move, speak, or breathe, Yoongi went limp when Y/N kissed his forehead, letting him process.

“Perfect,” Yoongi managed, squeezing Y/N around her middle, filled with both nostalgia and joy, the artificial moonlight projected in the room somehow feeling so real. “You really must have practiced hard.”

“What can I say? I had the best teacher ever,” Y/N replied, bashfully, happy to hold Yoongi as long as he wanted; even risking missing their dinner reservations.

“I’m proud of my student. She’s come a long way,” Yoongi murmured, straightening up but still maintaining his possessive hold on her. Melting at the pure adoration on her face, Yoongi couldn’t help but cup the side of her face. “My mom would have loved you.”

Y/N’s face grew hot, Yoongi felt it under his palm, her lower lip wobbling.

“Really?”

“Maybe not as much as I love you, but yeah, she would have. You two have the same heart,” Yoongi smiled, not feeling an ounce of sadness like he usually did on his birthday the previous three years. “Wanna know a little bit more about her before we go? We still have time.”

“Please?” Y/N’s expression grew eager, Yoongi finding it adorable, pinching her nose playfully.

“Her and I lived in a tiny apartment above The Black Lodge, courtesy of the owner– Barry was his name– I suspect that Barry might have been in love with my mom. Barry was old-school, though, and never acted on anything considering a lot of guys his age thought human and hybrid relationships were taboo,” Y/N pouted, but Yoongi shook his head and rubbed circles on her waist with his thumb.

“Anyways, yeah, we lived in a one-bedroom above the bar courtesy of Barry. My mom always insisted I take the bedroom, and she’d fall asleep on a loveseat in the living room watching old Marilyn Monroe movies. She wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, ever, just like you. She smoked those long, skinny cigarettes and her favorite drink was a Manhattan. My mom could write a song in twenty minutes, I don’t know how she did it. She would sing like her voice came up from the Earth’s crust and flowed through her mouth. And her perfume… she’d always wear something floral to remind her of the spring, when I was born.”

“Your mom sounds glamorous, like a movie star. I bet she was beautiful, too,” Y/N’s voice was dreamy, thick with emotion. She pictured a woman just as striking as her Yoongi, with the same spotty ears and tail, the same lithe, graceful figure.

“Mm, she was,” Yoongi agreed, distantly wishing he had a picture of her to show Y/N. “Alright, we should head out. You can ask me more questions on the way there, if you want.”

Y/N nodded enthusiastically, thrilled that Yoongi had opened up to her so much over time. There was something so wonderful about knowing someone on their deeper levels, especially a loved one, so Y/N cherished every tidbit of information Yoongi would offer her. Blissfully, knowing truly nothing could ruin her mood, she let Yoongi wait outside and order the taxi while she bid goodbye to the others in the parlor.

“Y/N, pretty, one of these days you’re gonna catch a cold,” Seokjin accused from his spot on the floor, wrapped in a throw blanket himself, staring pointedly at her bare legs. Y/N simply shook her head, bending low, and kissed his cheek softly, a feline chirp of pleasure leaving his lips and his orange eyes glowing in the dim light of the living room.

“We’ll be back in a little while. Please don’t eat the birthday cake until then,” Y/N drove that specific point home by looking directly at Namjoon, who was sheepishly gnawing on his fingernails on the couch, his book forgotten in his lap.

“Pick me up some?” Jeongguk lifted an empty carton of Marlboro reds in the air, tapping it hollowly, Y/N scowling.

“What’s the magic word, sweets?”

“For fu-” Jeongguk coughed when Namjoon sharply thwacked the back of his head with his book. “Please.”

“I have half a mind to buy you some nicotine patches,” Y/N muttered, accepting a jolty, goofy hug from Hoseok on the leather recliner. “Not to stir the pot, but once again, Jimin. You’re in charge.”

A series of exasperated groans filled the room as Jimin preened at the responsibility, nodding once at Y/N importantly. Taehyung, all the way at the back of the room by the window overlooking the backyard, was busy fussing over his camera, even if his ears were angled to the sound of her voice.

“I’m the eldest, shouldn’t I be in charge?” Seokjin sulked, his dark ears downturned just like the full corners of his mouth. Y/N simply snorted, knowing he was just pouting on purpose, giving him one last hair ruffle before starting to the foyer.

“I’ll be back soon, my sweet boys, alright?” Y/N blew the six hybrids a kiss, the various reactions of amusement and embarrassment making her feel warm and fuzzy as she made her way to the leopard hybrid waiting for her on the porch.

“I used to walk by this place on my way to the barber,” Yoongi remarked when the cab dropped them off at the restaurant, Y/N lacing their fingers together and admiring the way the city lights reflected off of his hazel eyes.

“Oh yeah? The one who gave you crazy haircuts?” Y/N mussed Yoongi’s long locks, smiling at him widely. “Speaking of. Never cut your hair short, please.”

“Why not, you like it like this?” Yoongi smirked devilishly, letting Y/N tug him into the restaurant.

“Yeah, it suits you! Don’t touch it, I’ll be really mad,” Y/N threatened, approaching the hostess’ booth. “Hi, we have an 8:00 reservation under the name Y/L/N.”

The restaurant Y/N found for Yoongi’s birthday was a jazzy hole-in-the-wall, the dining room filled with dim candle light. The place almost looked like a 20’s speakeasy, decked out with cushy red velvet booths, black tables, and old lamps scattered about. Y/N knew where Yoongi’s sight immediately went: the glossy grand piano beside the bar, where a gentleman in a suit was playing something slow and seductive. Still holding his hand, Y/N pulled Yoongi after the hostess, delighted with the intimate booth they ended up in, with a perfect view of the piano.

“This is a lot nicer than The Black Lodge,” Yoongi said dryly, still glancing around curiously, his nose twitching. “What kind of food do they have?”

“Italian, baby. We’re in the North End,” Y/N giggled, nudging his shin under the table and passing him a menu. Yoongi pouted at her teasing, immediately flipping the menu over to check the drink list. “After we eat, we can get some pastries to bring home!”

“You better hide them from the wolf, he’ll eat them all,” Yoongi warned, though Y/N had to admit, he was right.

“I’ll just get extra,” Y/N shrugged, the waitress promptly coming by to take their drink orders. Yoongi picked out a red wine, so Y/N went ahead and ordered the bottle, which had him squirming in his seat uncomfortably. “You don’t like being spoiled, angel?”

“Just not used to it,” Yoongi shook his head, his ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. “But… this is nice. You’re pretty good at planning birthdays, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“I should turn the talent into a business,” Y/N smirked around the lip of her wine glass, the Pinot Noir coating her throat like velvet. “What are you thinking about getting to eat?”

“Hmm… I feel like you can’t go wrong with steak,” Yoongi fiddled with his earrings, scanning the menu thoughtfully.

“I think I’m gonna get the ravioli,” Y/N announced, stomach already growling, Yoongi’s acute hearing picking it up and making him snort. “Stop laughing!”

When the waiter returned, he mercifully brought bread and oil, which Y/N happily snacked on with her wine, enjoying both the music and alone time with Yoongi.

“How’s the coaching gig?”

“I don’t know yet. The season doesn’t start until next week, all I’ve been doing is trying to figure out how to make practice plans. I’m not even sure I’m coach material.”

“Of course you are. You’re the best player on your own team, and kids love you. Besides, you taught me how to play piano in just a few months, you’re a natural born teacher, Yoongi,” Y/N shot down his doubts immediately, Yoongi looking away from her, shy. “I mean it! You’re patient, encouraging, and you keep me motivated. You’ll do really well.”

“You trying to butter me up?” Yoongi scoffed, tracking his index finger around the rim of his wine glass, eyes narrowed playfully.

“Is it working?” Y/N shot back, leaning slightly across the table, getting a few inches closer to his face. “Besides. It’s rewarding to make you proud.”

“Is that right?” Yoongi cocked his head, eyes dropping to Y/N’s hand, where she was tracing the bracelet around his wrist delicately. “Careful, Y/N.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Y/N exclaimed innocently, withdrawing her touch and sitting back with a wink, sipping her wine again.

“So, everything went well during your thing with the wolf and elk?” Yoongi changed the subject, a wicked gleam still in his eyes.

“Surprisingly, yes. I wish I could have filmed Jeongguk speaking in Latin for you. It was like watching an exorcism movie,” Y/N joked, Yoongi shaking his head in amusement. “The family moved back in yesterday. Next week we’re going to meet with them and make sure the cleansing and banishment did its job.”

“Well, I think a ‘congratulations’ is due,” Yoongi refilled both of their wine glasses, Y/N giggling when they clinked them together.

The man who was playing the piano finished his song, the intimate restaurant breaking out in polite applause. Y/N specifically looked for a restaurant like that one, one where diners could get up and play if they desired. It seemed Yoongi was realizing what was going on, an elderly woman getting up from her booth and ambling towards the piano with her martini. Her and Yoongi snickered when the woman began to play ‘Singin’ in the Rain’, vocalizing into the microphone a tad off-key.

Before Y/N could make a comment, their food arrived, which was a good thing since the wine was starting to make her feel flushed and ready to tackle her handsome date. The liquid courage was something she needed, though, as she began to anticipate the surprise she planned for Yoongi, sneaking a look at him while he was mid-bite of his steak. The meal passed by amicably, Yoongi letting her feed him a sliver of ravioli across the table, Y/N happy that she was able to treat Yoongi to a nice birthday dinner after three years of him likely not celebrating the day at all.

“Espresso?” The waiter returned to collect the plates once they were done, Y/N nodding, hoping to draw out the dinner just a little longer. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the old woman at the piano begin to get up from the bench, Y/N digging through her purse and standing, causing Yoongi to lift an eyebrow at her.

“Be right back,” Y/N breathed, setting off in the direction of the piano before her nerves could get the better of her, sheet music in one of her hands.

She could feel eyes on her as she approached the bench, clearing her throat and setting the music on the stand, thankful that the piano was similar to the one she had back at home. Clearing her throat, she scanned the restaurant once, finding Yoongi across the room, staring at her with utter confusion and anticipation. Smiling at him, she leaned towards the microphone.

“I hope you’re all having a nice evening,” Y/N began, trying not to cringe at the sound of her own voice. “I wanted to play a song I wrote tonight for someone special to me, on his birthday. This song is called ‘Soul Recognition’.”

With that, Y/N took a deep breath, easing into the first few measures. While at first, she expected to feel nervous and shaky, the mere reminder that Yoongi was watching her play had her relaxing and getting into the flow. Even though she was focused on the sheet music in front of her, she could feel Yoongi’s eyes on her from the other side of the room– that unspoken connection she had with him the very inspiration for the song’s title she had finally decided on.

Yoongi didn’t even register the waiter returning with two small cups of espresso, completely spellbound watching Y/N play a song she composed for him. Completely taken off guard, unaware that his mouth was wide open, all other noise in the restaurant dimmed completely while he drowned in her melody. The song was sweet, yearning, gentle, Y/N’s hands gliding over the keys smoothly, and the lights of the restaurant reflecting off of her shimmery dress and making her look like a star. Overcome with an intense feeling in his chest, not unlike the one he experienced earlier in the music room, Yoongi stopped breathing and the Earth stilled on its axis. Something clicked into place as he watched her, something both primal and cosmic, and all he could think about was making her his completely.

Yoongi didn’t even hear the applause all around him when Y/N finished her piece, the ending joyful and full, all he could do was stumble out of the booth, smacking cash onto the table and urgently crossing the restaurant. Y/N’s eyes went wide, bashful for some reason, meeting Yoongi in the middle. Before she could say anything, her face was in Yoongi’s hands, his lips crashing down on hers desperately, making her whimper in surprise. Y/N could taste something in his kiss, something different, important, and she was floating from it. Not caring about the people watching or the increase in applause at their spectacle, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, kissing him back just as passionately.

Yoongi pulled away all too soon, his eyes glassy, and pulled Y/N into his side, happy purrs vibrating through his chest.

“Did you like it?” Y/N asked meekly, a little dazed from the kiss, letting him guide her out of the restaurant with haste. Stopping outside, next to a bakery with the smell of chocolate flooding out into the street, Y/N offered Yoongi the hand-written sheet music shyly.

“It was beautiful,” Yoongi’s voice was thick, overwhelmed. “I loved it. You’re perfect, baby.”

Yoongi cupped her face again, kissing her cheeks with reverence. Her insides igniting, she hummed with satisfaction, his approval and proud tone of voice making the weeks of striking out composition wise worth it.

“Let’s get those pastries before we go home. You’re not leaving my sight tonight, though,” Yoongi warned her, grabbing a hold of her hand, dragging her to the entrance of the bakery. The way he warned her was full of dark promise, almost feral, Y/N deciding she couldn’t care less about the pastries.

Y/N hardly had time to place the ginormous box of pastries on the kitchen island before Yoongi was hauling her away, making her squeal as he slung her over his shoulder. The house was mostly dark, but it sounded like a few of the hybrids were still watching movies, so the way the leopard hybrid was so brazenly carrying her up the stairs had her cheeks on fire.

“Yoongi!” Y/N whisper-shouted, the hybrid grunting and pushing the door to his bedroom open, setting her down as soon as they were inside. “W-what are you– the others!”

Y/N watched Yoongi close and lock his door, distractedly pushing a towel under the threshold, as if that would do anything. A low, bone-chilling growl ripped through his throat at her mention of ‘the others’ Y/N’s gut tightening at the sound.

“It’s still my birthday, you’re still going to spend the rest of it with me, right?” Yoongi’s voice dropped an octave, stalking towards her slowly, Y/N backing up until her knees hit the foot of his bed, staring up at him nervously. “Won’t you?”

“Yes, Yoongi,” Y/N whispered, entranced. With the sound of his name coming from her lips, Yoongi had that feeling again, one that was taking over him completely.

Cocking his head, his gaze dropped to the cardigan slipping over her shoulders, reaching up to push the material off of her, the garment falling to the floor. Shivering at the temperature of the room on her bare shoulders, Y/N swallowed thickly, waiting for him to make the first move. There hadn’t been an instance where she had been intimate with Seokjin or Yoongi while the others were in earshot, and the idea of being listened to had adrenaline pulsing through her veins, shamefully.

“Yoongi,” Y/N squirmed under his scrutiny, taking in every inch of her in the cocktail dress that left little to the imagination.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet,” Yoongi sighed, as if the thought somewhat disappointed him, a fingertip sliding slowly up the side of her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath her skin. “Think you can do that?”

“Anything for you,” Y/N admitted without hesitation, watching his expression soften. Deciding to act on her own, Y/N leaned forward up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around Yoongi’s neck, giving a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Love you.”

Yoongi shuddered, cupping her hips, letting her kiss him gently, Y/N pouring all the love she had for him into the gesture. He returned it in kind, pulling her impossibly close, swiping his tongue along her lower lip heavily. Y/N was already failing at his request for her to be quiet, tiny mewls falling into Yoongi’s mouth, making him smirk against her. Winding her fingers in his hair, Y/N pressed her body even closer to him, feeling his chest rumble beneath her.

“Lay down, baby,” Yoongi mumbled against her lips, lightly pushing on her hips, causing her knees to buckle and her to collapse backwards on his bed.

She watched, heat flashing over her skin, as Yoongi stared down at her, methodically unbuttoning his black dress shirt, the sight of his chest being revealed bit by bit drying up her mouth. Planting her feet on the bed, she brought her knees together, attempting to rub her thighs together for friction, Yoongi’s pupils dilated at the sight.

“Eager?” Yoongi teased, pushing his dress shirt off his shoulders, licking his lips. He couldn’t deny that he, himself, was nearly bursting at the seams.

“Always,” Y/N looked up at him through her eyelashes, ready for him to pounce on her. “Come here.”

Grunting, unable to hold himself back, Yoongi was on top of her in a heartbeat, his lips crushing hers, Y/N arching upwards into his chest, tracing her hands all over his silky, feverish skin. Flicking her tongue against the roof of his mouth, Yoongi made a choked noise of pleasure, pressing his hips into hers.

“I love you, baby,” Yoongi murmured, tucking his face into her neck and sponging the sensitive flesh with kisses, Y/N writing beneath him. “Let’s get you out of this pretty dress, hmm?”

Yoongi sat back on his heels, Y/N sitting up slightly and putting her arms in the air, waiting for Yoongi to strip the fabric from her body. Mouth watering at the sight of the swollen petals of her lips and the glazed look in her eyes, her pounding heartbeat was music to Yoongi’s ears. Sliding his hands up her thighs, Yoongi got a hold of the hem of her dress, pulling it up and over her head, Y/N’s face on fire when she remembered she didn’t wear a bra with her outfit. Yoongi, however, groaned thickly, pushing on her hips again, making her fall back against the pillows with a squeak.

Immediately, his mouth was on her chest, Y/N biting down on her fist when his lips wrapped around a nipple, whimpering as his sharpened canines scraped over the sensitive bud. Yoongi was usually a talker in the bedroom, but the mood was different that night, like he was trying to taste every inch of her. Gliding her free hand through his hair, Y/N made pathetic, small noises as he had his way with her chest.

“Y-yoongi,” Y/N felt her lace underwear sticking to her center already, though truthfully, they had grown damp the moment he kissed her in the restaurant. Tongue passing over one of the ridges of her ribs, Yoongi hummed in response, enjoying being completely tangled up in her.

Gasping sharply, she felt Yoongi cup her through her panties, lips returning to her mouth, his tongue rolling against hers sensually. Swallowing the noises she was making, Yoongi growled at the wetness seeping through her panties, tracing a circle around her clothed clit. Y/N cried out, her embarrassment clear as day on her face when she realized the sound was anything but quiet, Yoongi lowly chuckling against her throat.

“Quiet, baby,” Yoongi reminded her, though he did absolutely nothing to encourage her to actually be quiet when he pushed the gusset of her panties to the side and dipped his fingers between her soaked folds. Hips bucking into his hand, Y/N looked at her leopard hybrid imploringly, eyebrows pulled together as he touched her.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groaned, easily sliding a finger into her sopping cunt, Y/N clawing at his chest and leaving red scratches in her wake. “Missed this pussy…”

Y/N couldn’t hold back the mewls she was making, especially when he added a second digit to join the first, thumb pressing down sharply on her clit. Tears pricking the corners of her eyes, frustrated she couldn’t be as vocal as she wanted to be, she bit down on Yoongi’s shoulder when he curled his fingers into her G-spot.

He worked her up slowly, the lewd sounds of her wetness slipping into his palm driving him absolutely crazy. Biting down on Yoongi’s shoulder didn’t work for long as the coil in her abdomen began to tighten, a shuddering moan filling the bedroom, Yoongi hissing and withdrawing his fingers from her cunt, a dismayed whine falling from Y/N’s lips. Before she could complain, Yoongi was pulling her panties off of her body, balling them up, and while her mouth was still open, Yoongi pushed the fabric into her mouth. Eyes bugging out of her head, Y/N was trembling beneath the leopard hybrid, who appeared quite smug that he managed to gag her.

“There we go, huh?” Yoongi cooed, stroking through her folds again, Y/N yanking at the belt loops of his dress pants and unintelligibly groaning something. “What’s that? Wanna cum?”

Y/N nodded eagerly, Yoongi’s dark, condescending chuckle making her ears burn. Contrary to his question, he didn’t slip his fingers back into her weeping cunt, instead he teasingly traced her entrance, Y/N throwing her head back in frustration. Yoongi was close to losing his own patience, hastily ridding himself of his pants, tossing them somewhere behind him.

Saliva soaking the fabric of her ruined panties, Y/N ached to take the gag out of her mouth, but Yoongi shot her a warning look, so she simply squirmed on the bed and nearly choked on the panties when he settled his hips against hers, rolling them. Yoongi nearly collapsed at the friction, and Y/N keened at the sensation of his bulge colliding against her tacky core, desperate for him to be inside her already.

“That’s a good girl, behaving,” Yoongi mumbled into her ear, kissing just below it while a free hand squeezed at her breast. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the gag out soon. Wanna hear you when you cum for me, baby.”

Feeling wetness gushing out of her in response to his filthy words, she tried to implore him to get on with it with her eyes. Rolling his hips against her again, the two of them writing together like desperate teenagers, Y/N ran her hands down Yoongi’s toned back, the leopard hybrid sharply biting down on her clavicle when her fingertips brushed the base of his tail, his hips stuttering.

“F-fuck, Y/N,” Yoongi whined, Y/N never hearing him sound so needy. Using her fingernails, she lightly scraped through the silky fur, Yoongi finally snapping.

Shucking his boxers off, Y/N’s mouth filled with saliva as she watched his erection spring up from the material. Distractedly, Yoongi peeled her panties out of her mouth, Y/N gasping for air when he hooked one of her legs around his waist. Again, Yoongi kissed her, a flurry of tongue and teeth, needing to taste her, to consume her. Y/N could hardly keep up, holding him tightly around the neck, the coolness of his silver chain hitting her in the face as he lined himself up. Breath catching, she moaned into Yoongi’s plush lips as he pushed in, his teeth gritting at the tight fit.

“Fuck, baby,” Yoongi panted, planting one of his palms beside her face for leverage, the walls of her cunt spasming around him as she got used to his size. “So good–”

“Please, please,” Y/N whimpered, trying to keep her tone in check so he wouldn’t gag her again. Yoongi’s ears fluttered at her sweet, ruined voice, the grip he had on her thigh hooked around his waist bruising. “Baby…”

Biting on the inside of his cheek, Yoongi knew what she wanted without her having to vocalize it. Slowly, he rolled his hips, the drag of her walls around his cock intoxicating, both of them breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. It was the look on her face that had Yoongi control dissolving into nothing, the look of complete and utter love, and with a snarl, he tucked his nose into her neck, snapping his hips more harshly into hers.

“Baby, my baby,” Yoongi moaned into her throat, tasting sweat on her skin. Wild, being driven crazy by the muffled cries she was trying to keep in check with a hand pressed over her lips, Yoongi found himself babbling and unleashing the emotions he was feeling the entire night. “I love you so much. My mate.”

Y/N gasped, and it had nothing to do with how his cock was hitting every sweet spot inside of her, it was his words. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, Y/N kissed him, relishing in the feline purrs of elation he was making.

“M-mate?” Y/N managed breathlessly, arching into him when his pelvis brushed against her clit with each stroke, his lips in her hair.

“Mm-hmm. Mate, you’re mine,” Yoongi mumbled deliriously, the pitch of her moans telling him she wasn’t going to last much longer. “Forever, baby.”

With a hand around her throat, Yoongi pinned her to the mattress, the speed of his thrusts picking up, a feral sort of possession beginning to take over him darkly. By then, he didn’t care if the whole neighborhood heard what they were doing, focused solely on pleasuring his mate. With the weight of his palm on her throat and the way he angled the tip of his cock directly into her G-spot, Y/N was clenching around him unexpectedly, the strength of her orgasm taking the wind out of her.

“That’s it, baby, cum for me, my sweet mate,” Yoongi lightly squeezed the sides of her throat, not far behind her, truthfully. “Shit. I’m–”

“Yoongi,” Y/N’s voice was broken, her skin covered in a thin coat of sweat, and when she leaned up to kiss him again, Yoongi was gone. Hips stilling, he came with a ruined moan, Y/N shivering at the sensation of his hot cum filling her, pressing shaky kisses to the side of his face as pleasure tore through him violently.

Collapsed on top of her and not entirely sure he could move, Yoongi tried to catch his breath as Y/N tenderly ran her fingers through his hair, her own chest heaving beneath him. The feeling he had earlier in the day, the unfurling of something from inside, he realized what it was the second she finished playing the song she wrote from her. Y/N was his mate, and he admittedly should have figured that out sooner, but the realization had all the stars in his sky lining up. There had never been a time where Yoongi felt closer to his animalistic side rather than human, which he used to be afraid of showing to Y/N. But there she was, accepting of him with wide open arms and unconditional acceptance. His mate could be no one but her.

“Am I really… your mate?” Y/N asked hesitantly, after several minutes of enjoying post-coital bliss. She didn’t really care that Yoongi’s heavy body was crushing her, simply letting him hide away from the world in the crook of her neck, here he was still mouthing away at the skin. Pausing, Yoongi pulled away slightly, worry creasing his brow.

“Does that bother you?” Yoongi asked carefully, Y/N blanching and immediately shaking her head.

“Absolutely not, why would it? I adore you, Yoongi,” Y/N insisted, brushing sweaty hair out of his face. Relaxing again, Yoongi purred, nudging the tip of her nose with his.

“‘M tired,” Yoongi mumbled, Y/N wincing when he pulled out of her, blindly reaching for a towel on the floor to mop up the mess between her legs. “You’re gonna stay with me, right?”

“Is that another birthday wish, angel?” Y/N teased, Yoongi grumbling and rolling off of her, gathered the crumpled quilt at the foot of his bed and pulled it up over the two of them, effectively keeping Y/N there. “Too tired to quip back?”

“Smart mouth,” Yoongi offered, opening up his arms and looking at her through lidded eyes. “Lemme hold you.”

Snickering, Y/N wiggled closer to her leopard hybrid, resting her cheek on his chest, pouting at the red lines she left on his skin. Tracing them softly, she pressed a kiss to one of the marks, Yoongi’s arms snaking around her middle.

“Thank you for writing me a song,” Yoongi broke the silence, holding her tight.

“Thank you for writing me one. It’s about time you had one too,” Y/N replied, Yoongi’s chest shaking with quiet laughter at the response. Yawning, she felt sated, lax in his arms, and while she was in for an interesting morning encountering the others, it was one of the furthest things from her mind. “Love you.”

Yoongi didn’t respond with words, instead, he kissed the top of her head, drawing patterns over her waist until her breathing evened out, making sure she was asleep before he allowed himself to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

Sunday was the day of the week Y/N had laundry duty, and she was knee-deep in dirty socks. Thankfully, she had a helper with her, even if the rest of her housemates accused him of somehow helping Y/N ‘cheat’ at laundry duty. Grimacing at a particularly dirty pair of socks, she tossed them into the wash, Seokjin helpfully tossing scented laundry beads into the machine with a smile.

“Did you finish your book for tomorrow’s meeting, honey?” Y/N asked him, Seokjin wrinkling his nose at one of Jimin’s muddy socks.

“Yeah, it was a pretty quick read this week,” Seokjin replied, a cute grin on his face when Y/N shut the washer’s lid, leaning against it leisurely. “This week isn’t going to be as busy for you, is it?”

“No, thankfully. Last week was nuts,” Y/N sighed, placing the detergent back on the shelf. “I told you I switched around my work days, right? I’m going to do Tuesdays-Thursdays, not including the odd consultation here and there.”

“I remember you telling me, yes,” Seokjin tickled her sides, wanting to see her smile. “Four day weekends, that’ll be nice!”

Squeaking, she felt Seokjin unexpectedly pick her up by her hips, spinning her around and setting her on top of the dryer. Now eye-level with him, Y/N blushed, straightening out the collar of his loose tee-shirt.

“It will be. More time to spend with you,” Y/N agreed. More time for her to spend with all of them. Seokjin handed her a pair of jeans to fold– Yoongi’s, by the look of them, making Y/N pause and think about her leopard hybrid again.

Ever since Yoongi called her his mate, there was little else she thought about. Not only that, but it had her thinking about ruts again; when Yoongi would have his, she would be the one he would spend it with. Going stiff, she halted her folding, Seokjin raising an eyebrow at her while he placed a folded graphic tee of Jeongguk’s on the shelf.

“Something on your mind, pretty girl?” Seokjin’s tail wound around his leg curiously, Y/N jolted out of her thoughts. Seokjin, out of all of her hybrids, was one of the easiest to confide in. Recalling her phone conversation with Ben, she decided to ask her burning questions after all.

“Yeah, actually. Can I ask you a couple of things? About hybrids,” Y/N twitched on top of the dryer, all of Seokjin’s attention on her at once. He nodded straight away, predictably.

“Um, how do I put this…” Y/N started, embarrassed. “You know what? Screw it. I wanted to ask about ruts. Is there a specific, um, I don’t know. Procedure to go through? Like if one of you wants a partner to help you through it, who do I contact?”

Seokjin’s neck colored bright red, apparently not expecting questions like that. An array of reactions played across his handsome face: bashfulness, disbelief, and pure shock.

“I– I don’t know about the others, pretty, but when mine happens, I,” he swallowed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, I’d hope that you would be the one to help me through it. I wouldn’t want anybody else.”

Taking a second to process that, Y/N grew hot, Seokjin uttering the last part of his response as if the idea of spending his rut with anyone else was completely repulsive.

“You wouldn’t?” Y/N clarified stupidly, Seokjin making a feline noise of annoyance.

“Of course not. You’re the only one for me, pretty,” Seokjin drove home, squeezing her knee. “As for the others… Well, when their times come, I’m sure if they need something, they’ll tell you. Mmm?”

“So… how do you know when it will happen?”

“Honestly, the instinct, or ruts in general I should say, usually don’t kick in full-force for us until we meet someone we feel strongly about romantically. Prior to that, it’s usually just a week or so of secluded ‘downtime’, if you will. Mine has never been strong enough to need a partner, but I suspect that will change now that I’m with you…” Seokjin explained, Y/N hanging off every word.

“Because of me?”

“Well, yes,” Seokjin pinched her cheek. “Of course.”

“Okay. That answers my questions at the moment,” Y/N mumbled, skin still on fire.

Seokjin snorted, recovering smoothly from the bombshell she dropped on him, stepping forward to kiss the tip of her nose. Eyes fluttering shut, she soaked in his clean scent, appreciating the way he never teased her about matters surrounding her lack of knowledge on hybrids.

“Alright, let’s finish up in here. I’m gonna teach you how to make sourdough today, remember, pretty girl?” Seokjin pushed another pair of jeans into her lap, winking.

The woman standing in front of her, Namjoon, and Jeongguk seemed like an entirely different one from the one in their memories. Ms. Sanders– Erika– no longer had purplish circles under her eyes, her posture wasn’t shrunken, and she flung the front door to her house open with confidence. Stunned, her and her two hybrids lingered on the concrete porch, the woman eagerly gesturing them inside.

“Oh my goodness. I don’t know what to say. The house is like a completely different home,” Erika rushed out, Y/N breathing in the crisp, fresh air in the living room with deep satisfaction. “I cannot thank you three enough. Whatever you did worked completely.”

“So, everything has been going well since last Wednesday when you moved back in?” Y/N sought to confirm, sitting beside Jeongguk on the couch and accepting a mug of tea from the young mother gratefully.

“Tommy’s nightmares stopped. Julie’s coming out of her shell again. I haven’t seen a single shadow, or heard any knocking on the walls. I can’t believe it,” Erika gushed, glancing at the three of them like they were her saviors. Jeongguk, beside her, fidgeted in his seat in reaction to the attention, while Namjoon stood off to the side, sipping his mug of tea with pink ears.

“I’m so happy to hear that. I brought you a few things, just to give you an added layer of protection. I made these amulets for you and the children to wear when leaving the house, and Jeongguk has added some incense from the church to this bag for you to burn as well,” Y/N handed the mother a gift bag, which she accepted gratefully.

Jeongguk explained how and when to use the incense, and Namjoon answered a few questions about the investigation, but after the tea was finished, Y/N and her hybrids took that as their cue to leave. Erika was in the middle of giving Y/N a very tight hug when the sound of footsteps came bounding down the stairs, making the three of them pause by the door. Tommy appeared in front of them, looking well-rested and healthy, holding onto his toy robot and staring up at Namjoon with complete awe. Y/N watched, stunned, as Tommy threw his arms around Namjoon, pressing his cheek into the wolf hybrid’s stomach, Jeongguk’s smoky chuckle filling the room as Namjoon went statue-still, hesitantly patting the young boy’s back.

“Oh, I mentioned he loves wolves, didn’t I?” Erika clasped a hand over her mouth, her eyes misty but expression joyful.

Y/N’s eye caught the top of the stairs, where Julie was leaning against the banister. The teenager nodded, just once, at her and Jeongguk, her subtle thank-you to them. Once Tommy managed to peel himself from Namjoon, the three of them were leaving the Sanders’ home for the final time, the small family waving at them from the living room window as they pulled away in the van.

“Ow. Shit,” Jeongguk hissed from the backseat, Y/N flinching at the sound of his strained voice and promptly flying from her seat beside Namjoon to see what was wrong with the elk hybrid.

To her horror, there was blood leaking from his hairline into his face, and he was poking around the base of his antlers again. Or antler, she realized, as one of them had fallen from his head and clattered to the floor, blood staining the van’s carpet.

“Oh my god! What happened?!” Y/N rushed over to him, cupping his face frantically. “Did you bump into something? What am I gonna do?”

Jeongguk grabbed her wrist, grimacing.

“I’m fine, kiddo. Remember when I shed my velvet? I shed the antlers in the spring. They’ll grow back. It just hurts like a bitch when they fall out,” Patting her wrist, Jeongguk winced when the second antler fell to the floor, more blood spilling onto his forehead. “You can let go, I’m not dying.”

Reeling, the spots where his antlers once were gory and painful looking. As per his request, she released his face, staring at the antlers on the ground. Bending, she picked them up, Jeongguk clicking his tongue at her while he dabbed his face with a tissue.

“Just chuck those out the window,” he muttered indifferently, Y/N scowling at him.

“Absolutely not. What if I wanna keep them? They’re pretty!” Jeongguk stared at her like she grew a second head.

“What, are you gonna make a lamp out of them or something?”

“No, you jerk. I don’t know, maybe I’ll put them on my altar,” Y/N held the antlers away from him, worried he’d try to take them out of her grasp. “You don’t look nearly as threatening without them, by the way.”

Indeed, now the only thing on the top of Jeongguk’s head were his tapered chestnut-colored ears, which were twitching cutely at the sound of her voice. She wondered when his antlers grew back, if he’d look like Bambi, his doe eyes and all.

“Fine. Do whatever you want with them,” Jeongguk held his hands up, but there was faint color on his high cheekbones.

“I will,” Y/N stuck her tongue out at him, marching back to the passenger seat. Namjoon glanced at the antlers in her lap with minor interest, amusement clear as day on his face. “Wanna get hot pot again before we go home?” Namjoon ended up really liking the restaurant, and she felt like having a celebratory lunch.

“With me looking like this? Are you serious?” Jeongguk was incredulous, gesturing to the blood caked in his hair through the rearview mirror.

“Why not? Fits your goth agenda,” Y/N teased, Namjoon absolutely losing it beside her, eyes scrunching up into crescent moons.

“Goth agenda? Are you trying to push your luck today?”

“Yes,” Y/N sang, noting that Namjoon was already driving in the direction of the restaurant. “And I’ll continue to.”

Yoongi wiped the sleep from his eyes, blindly stumbling towards the music room before he went downstairs for his coffee. He was in the middle of composing something new to teach Y/N, and wanted to retrieve his book of blank sheet music to work on over breakfast. Truly still waking up, he didn’t notice that Taehyung was in the room until he caught a whiff of the Kodiak hybrid’s scent. Pausing at the threshold of the door, Yoongi was surprised Taehyung didn’t flee the room as soon as Yoongi walked in. The Kodiak hybrid appeared deep in thought, the record he was playing on the turntable scratching uselessly on the label, like he had already listened through that side already.

“Uh… hey,” Yoongi greeted him, noticing the tired look on the other hybrid’s face. Not expecting a response, since Taehyung pretty much avoided him since finding out about him and Y/N, Yoongi shrugged, heading to the piano to scoop up what he needed.

“How’s Y/N lately?” Taehyung startled Yoongi by speaking gruffly, the leopard hybrid not understanding where he was going with that question.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? You live under the same roof,” Yoongi raised his eyebrows, Taehyung snorting sardonically.

“I don’t think she wants to talk to me,” Taehyung pushed a hand through his dark curls, Yoongi rolling his eyes. Yoongi was fed up with the Kodiak hybrid’s behavior, how it was affecting Y/N, and how oblivious the kid was in general.

“And why do you think that is? You avoid her like the plague. She’s just giving you the space you’re practically begging for,” Yoongi crossed his arms across his chest, tail curling around him agitatedly.

“I just– I don’t know. I’ve been trying to keep myself busy, I met someone, but she’s…” Yoongi let the wheels begin to turn in Taehyung’s head, trying not to be impatient. “She’s–”

“She’s not Y/N,” Yoongi finished bluntly, not sufficiently caffeinated enough for that conversation. Taehyung flinched like he was electrocuted, looking at Yoongi with alarm.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung accused, heart racing.

“What do you mean, Taehyung?” Yoongi threw his hands up, exasperated. “Avoiding her, trying to distract yourself with someone else. You need to just admit it to yourself, or you’re gonna develop an ulcer.”

“Admit what?” Taehyung spat, aggravated, standing and sizing up the leopard hybrid.

“That you’re in love with her, dumbass.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @goooooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @missyoueverysingleday @cathy-1997 @prybts @doublebunv @milopenne @steadycreationangel @rinkud @breadcheeksseokjin @nikkiordonez12

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ceceslibrary · 1 year ago

Text

CECE'S FIC RECS 2

BTS

Updated: April 28th, 2024

Fic rec list 1

Namjoon

Namjoon Drabble | rkivepetals

Jin

Golden Boy | kpopfanfictrash

When it Rains | cravetive

Yoongi

Just for me | luv-gukkie

Between the Titles | highvern

Relief | ressjeon

Jhope

Bound | explicit-tae

Heaven Sent | aquagustd

Love Quarrels | mirahuyooo

Make Me | violetsiren90

Sticky | starbandit

Jimin

Dressing Room Quickie | swanlakebaby

The Pitfalls of Silk | ctrlhope

Taehyung

Summer Heat | tastefully-in-luv

Jungkook

Sin For Me | c0llisiion

When I see you cry it makes me smile | kooberist

First Place | kooeater

Is you is or is you ain't | ki-yomii

Press Play | jj-one

White | hoseoksluna

TEMPEST | kooktrash

Will it Fit? | jeonsweetpea

The Boy is Mine | joonberriess

OT7

Little Do You Know | yoongiofmine

Ateez

San

Backstage Back Shots | kitten4sannie

WWE

Jimmy Uso

Pool Party | shes2real

Jey Uso

Trouble | solefae

Sugar Baby | von2dutch

Roman Reigns

Tension | heauxvibez

Strong | joannasteez

Michael B. Jordan/Erik Killmonger

Erik and London | nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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muniimyg · 5 months ago

Note

do you have any updated fic recs 🙏🙏 (i’ve read almost all on ur other blog + the rec list 😼)

omg ... i'm the worst ... i don't actually read that many fics anymore cos i spend so much time writing instead ... if i do read fics,, i reread my fave ones from that rec list or read everything those writers on my rec list have made ... wow,, this is so awkward....

anyways....

the fics i have read within this year that i absolutely LOVE are;

it was always you by @hueseok

still don't know my name by @dollfaceksj

game on by @sparklingchim

the love prognosis by @awrkive

ungodly hour by @explicit-tae

and oh my god this nam joon one where he has a podcast or smt lol. someone pls remind me :')

#ask muni #im so sorry for this fic rec list #i need to read more #thank u to the writers who continue to provide content tho #crazy #shit is hard work bro #mwah

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voyter · 4 months ago

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voyter 2024 wrapped ! ⋆✴︎ . ݁₊ ⊹

heh i dont usually indulge in this kind of stuff because a bitch love to stay mysterious .. but not interacting with anyone on this app is something im trying to leave in 2024 😅😅😅 got tagged by the peoples princess miss @lovieku to do this and i thought it was super cutsie <3 she gave me an opportunity to finally break out of my shell 💗💗💗

MOST POPULAR + LATEST FIC OF 2024

.⁺⊹ NNN (NO NUT NOVEMBER) | 2,453 notes | 12.10

LONGEST FIC OF 2024

.⁺⊹ DEVOTION | 2,104 notes | 11.13

PERSONAL FAV OF 2024

.⁺⊹ MATCHPOINT | 315 notes | 10.24

TOP STATS OF 2024

࣪𓏲ּ ࣪𖤐 total notes. 7,637

࣪𓏲ּ ࣪𖤐 total posts. 40/50 (10 reblogs)

࣪𓏲ּ ࣪𖤐 total words written. 39,809

࣪𓏲ּ ࣪𖤐 top muse. mr seven days a week

FIC RECS OF 2024

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡ HANDS ON ME by @lovieku

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡ HABITS (STAY HIGH) by @girlygguk

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡ HOT TO GO! by @hannieehaee

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡ BURNING HOUR by @jungqkook

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡ ACQUAINTANCES! by @2hightocare

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡ WILL IT FIT? by @jeonsweetpea

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡ UNGODLY HOUR by @explicit-tae

TOP 10 TRACKS OF 2024

1. everyday by ariana grande ft. future

2. best mistake by ariana grande ft. big sean

3. seven by jungkook ft. latto

4. borderline by ariana grande ft. missy elliot

5. safety net by ariana grande ft. ty dolla $ign

6. everytime by ariana grande

7. selfish waltz by ateez

8. her by majid jordan

9. underwater by red velvet

10. cola by lana del rey

GOALS FOR 2025

— write faster omfg

— interact with more people on here ^_^

— complete all my planned fics

— make more moots !! <3

— procrastinate .. less .. ???

thank you for the lovely tag, @lovieku my lovie *besos* !! ohh now this is really going to show my lack of moots heh .. @twosixteenn (tumblr misses you my baby) @jeonxo ur turns (only if u want ofc hehe) and literally anyone else who wants to join in on this (i know you want toooooo).

although ive only been here for three months, youve all made my 2024 so wonderful <3 heres to 2025 and more my babies !!

#voyter #wrapped 2024 #okie heres one last post before i stfu now ha

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kamaribvb · 2 years ago

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Important Links!

Masterlist

Networks

Ask box

Submit a post

Rules for requests

My Recommendations:

by genre

fluff smut angst pwp fantasy ot7

minor-friendly (this is the only tag you should be searching for if you are 17 years old or younger!! Most of my fluff recs are also smut!)

By author (Z-A)

-yoon-kooks

-yoonieper;

-yoonia;

-yoongiofmine;

-yeoldontknow

-vminizzle;

-violetsiren90

-thvhoe

-thepurpleghost

-taegularities

sxtaep

suntaeshine

sugalaritae

sugaimhome

sparklingchim

souryoong

soraviie

sailoryooons

rendaze

peachypinkygloss

ot7always

oddinary4bts

namluve

minisugakoobies

mimikookie

mapofthesea

luvrkives

luaspersona

liqhtheartedd

linos-luna kth1fics

kookslastbutton

kithtaehyung

jung-nika-hoseok

joonsy2k

jl-micasea-fics

jkeuphoriadreamland

jjksblackgf

jimilter

jeonqkooks

jamaisjoons

imnotlauriane

hwanghyunjinenthusiast

hoseokhasmyheartxx

here2bbtstrash

helvonasche

gukkieslover

girlygguk

flowerprincesscherryblossom

explicit-tae

euphoricfilter

eoieopda

drvmekoo

daechvvitas

cheolhub

chateautae

caelesjjk

btsqualityy

bteezxyewriter12

bratkook

borathae

borahaerhy

blue134340

beahae

bangtangalicious

bad-decisionsot7

badbtssmut

astralmono

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theangryjikooker · 2 years ago

Note

I'm not really a vminie, other than that I enjoy their bond and sometimes blink several times in amazement at them, but if I could maybe build a little on what your last anon asked and maybe throw a few of my big vmin eyebrow raises into your ask box to maybe start a discussion? I honestly think it's really healthy for jikook shippers/believers/whatevers to get into the weeds on vmin ship tumblr or twt. You could pick any ship for what I'm about to explain, but taekookers tend to be explicitly nasty, yoonminers just straight up explicit, and the rest of the ships just don't have the presence to create a good deep dive (except for maybe namjin? who wants namjin deep dive blog recs?) But vminies are mostly normal. They think their ship is in love (or at least used to-- huge drop off in those blogs and twt accounts posting in the past year or so, for obvious reasons) and they base their theories around that. They're rarely super disparaging towards the other members, and the vmin bond is so open that they don't need to really create insane theories. They just vibe. They also seem to be handling the more recent proof that their ship isn't real extraordinarily well without falling into delusion. I would say none of the other big bts ships would do the same. (and I have proof tkkers wouldn't). But for anyone who really thinks Jikook is real (I'm like 75/25 myself), I think it's valuable to look another narrative, with a lot of genuine contradictions in it to the 'standard' jikook one, straight in the face and take in how perspective can change something. It's healthy. These spaces so quickly fall into echo chambers.

off the top of my head, my big vmin eyebrow raises:

vmin have zero physical boundaries. open affection, sometimes truly bafflingly so. all over eachother and almost never pull away. (jikooker: of course they don't pull away, they're not hiding anything. do you see the way jimin leaned so naturally into jk but then saw the camera--. vminie: vmin go 2 seconds without touching eachother challenge failed)

they literally acted out being boyfriends on more than one occasion (jikooker: it was s roleplay! you know how tae is! vminie: they're trying to tell us!)

4'oclock, scenery, and sweet night. 4'oclock is explicitly about jimin and has been confirmed so on MULTIPLE occasions by the members. That in and of itself is insane (i wrote a long long letter to the moon one night but it wasn't as beautiful as you PLUS namjoon's moonlight movie ref, whew), but if you then look at the lyrics to scenery and sweet night the lyrical parallels and common themes paint a pretty crazy picture. Vastly beyond any song jikookers have ever managed to tie to their ship, except for maybe the serendipity i am you you are me. (jikooker: tae is just a lazy songwriter of course he's using the same themes, you don't know his live. vminie: LOOK AT HIM ALL HIS SONGS ARE JIMIN CODED HES CRAZY)

I also think jikookers could use a solid rewatch of older bangtan content. I'm watching BV2 right now and the amount of time that Jimin spends hanging off Tae/they spend together is truly incredible. In Jikook spaces all I got out of it was a few scattered fragments of interaction (Jungkook spends WAY more time gravitating towards Seokjin in Hawaii at least by my read)

Do I think vmin is real? No, for obvious reasons. But I think paying attention to the way a ship can generate these narratives is important for all shippers.

Co-signed 100%. I always find discussing Jikook and Vmin and the difference in their dynamics really interesting. What I covered isn’t anywhere near the level of discussion I could go into, and a few followers I’ve exchanged DMs with know what I’m talking about lol.

I also need to watch the BV series again and have been planning to. It’ll be nice to watch them with fresh eyes.

#TAJ asks #anon submission #vmin #jikook #kookmin

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orchidyoonkook · 2 years ago

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The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.

Intimate. That would be a better choice.

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing.

You just lost all your tips for the night.

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.

Fuck.

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it.

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.

No one serves him but you.

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath.

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased.

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.

No one calls the Devil by his first name.

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.

No one except you.

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.

The King of Hell.

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.

And maybe he is.

But not to you.

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.

Yoongi.

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.

And he looks like sin incarnate.

Fitting.

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you.

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.

Beautiful.

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait—

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.

You’ve decided.

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait.

And apparently neither does Yoongi.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.

You trust Yoongi.

“That's a good girl.”

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.

You’re the most powerful person here.

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you.

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.

Perfect in every single way.

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.

Not yet.

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.

Ever.

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.

There was only you.

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming.

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

It’s yours.

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.”

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.

You just know it.

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.

You never expected anything like that.

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.

Because of you.

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that.

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.

He was yours now.

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

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yeoubimoments · 2 years ago

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daily fic rec

The Less I Know The Better by @/mucha

taegi ✦ 40k ✦ explicit modern, fake relationship, angst, mutual pining

this one is an absolute treat! yoongi hires tae to be his pretend boyfriend but then it becomes a bit too real and that's cliché to a fault, but also funny, well-written and just a really good time overall.

summary:

“Together with their families, Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin… Wow, this is formal… Wait,” Hoseok squints at the paper, before looking back at Yoongi with a quizzical look on his face. “They invited you with a guest? But… You’re single, right?”

“Min Yoongi,” Jimin glares at him over the bar, crossing his arms sternly over his chest. “If you’re seeing someone and you didn’t tell us I will kick your ass, so help me god.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” Yoongi sighs, grabbing the invitation and scanning it quickly. The words “with a guest” are underlined and Yoongi can almost see it: the smugness on his brother’s face as he nods with satisfaction, putting the pencil down.

“So what does it mean?”

Yoongi shifts uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding making eye contact.

"I might’ve… invented a boyfriend," he finally mumbles to the glass in front of him.

0 notes

back2bluesidex · 2 years ago

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this is SICKKKKKK!!!

And I am Sick too cause I apparently enjoyed it too much!!

Unusual Suspects

You were always told that the internet wasn't a safe space and to be careful who you were talking to. Namjoon, your crush of years, was someone you thought was a safe haven - until you realized he wasn't the man you adored but instead a catfish pretending to be him. Now, said catfish is determined to ruin your life and the life of your childhood best friend, Taehyung, for their own sick pleasure.

Warning: yandere themes, catfishing, blackmailing, coercion, namjoon x reader, sexting, sextoys, squirting, fingering, sexual enhancement, voyeurism, cursing, reader is naive of course, fingering, nipple sucking, creampie, backshots, oral (f receiving), humiliation kink, blackmailing,

Word Count: 6,856

@bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @seokjinkismet @castlewolfsbane

'I always thought you were beautiful.'

Your smile slowly widens as you read the message on your phone.

Namjoon was - in your eyes - the man of your dreams. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. Perfect smile with the same perfect set of teeth. Dimples cheeks so deep, you swear you could probably cuddle in them - of course not literally. Overall, Namjoon was the whole package. He was intelligent, studying English at a neighboring university.

You began speaking with him around three months ago. You were already too timid to introduce yourself when you met him officially three months before that at a party (via your best friend, Taehyung). They weren't close, friendly acquaintances at best.

When you got a message from an instagram account claiming to be Namjoon, you were over the moon. The account had several hundred followers and many pictures that you never questioned if it was him or not. As the both of you spoke often, you received pictures from Namjoon personally - pictures of him at museums or taking walks at parks.

You weren't opposed in sending your own pictures of you visiting museums, as well, or strolling through gardens or frequenting cafes and bookstores. Namjoon was a good conversationist. There was never a dull moment when they both of you were immersed in your conversations about life and any and everything.

The intimate pictures came recently, Namjoon sending one first. A picture of him laying down, clothed bulge on display. The sight of it makes your mouth water and thighs clench. You were hesitant to send your own pictures, but you do. You were self-conscious about your body. You never were sure if you had the flat stomach, decent size breast and butt. However, sitting and dwelling on it would do nothing but make you insecure so you sent the picture.

You didn't regret it when Namjoon sends a flood of messages claiming that you were beautiful, comparing your beauty to goddess and even angels. You were flattered and it causes you to send even more pictures - each one becoming more explicit and raunchier.

It didn't stop at pictures. He'd send you videos of him, claiming that your beauty was what caused him to touch himself. He'd send you videos of him pumping his cock in the camera, heavy breathing in the background. He asks you to do the same and when you do, you feel unsure. You never touched yourself on camera; and even if you, you'd never send it to anyone.

Vaginas weren't appealing to you. You didn't enjoy touching yourself without a toy because of the wetness it caused, but for Namjoon you would. The sensation was weird at first but knowing that Namjoon would enjoy your videos doesn't cause you to stop. You plunge your fingers in and out of you, breathing deeply until you're moaning his name.

Each video session you sent one another, you became more comfortable. You appeared naked more often than not, nipples erect and more willing to add your face into said videos - even if Namjoon never did.

You were hesitant to tell Taehyung. He has been your best friends since childhood and any crush you had he never approved of. When you'd attempt to date, he'd claim that he was a male and understood how males worked. He'd never stopped you from dating but wasn't one to not say "I told you so" when the boys you chose weren't who they said they were.

Taehyung had caught you one night. The both of you live together in an apartment a few blocks away from the University you attended. You were careless this time. Taehyung being one of your closest friends, he didn't care much for personal space. He'd walk in on you while you showered and speak to you as if nothing was wrong. He'd walk around in his underwear and even walk into your room without as much as knocking. There had been many times Taehyung had caught you masturbating - this time it felt more humiliating because you were recording.

Taehyung wasn't going to let it go until you told him who you were sending those videos to, so when you did, you can see the glint in his eyes. He wasn't thrilled about you sending pictures to Namjoon, but you were a grown woman. You could do whatever you wanted and what you were doing wasn't illegal. Besides, Namjoon was a good guy unlike the others you were interested in.

You and Namjoon never spoke on the phone, nor spoke face to face - even though Facetime. You tried, but it failed each time. Namjoon claimed to never have the time and you were understanding - Taehyung not so much. But you were adamant about Namjoon being who he says he was. He posted regularly on his instagram and on his stories - the bike rides were your favorite.

'Do you like the gift?'

The message reads.

'I can't wait to see you ride it.'

You only agreed in riding the sex toy Namjoon had sent to you if you could do it on facetime. You had called and was surprised that he answered. It was dark but you could see his dimples even in the dark. Namjoon turns the camera to his exposed cock and you felt compelled to ride the cock he sent; your mind fantasizing that it was him you were riding.

Your pussy clenches around the dildo, juices sliding down the shaft of the large cock you rode. You moan each time your crash down on it - Namjoon's muffled moans in the background as you do so. He's currently pumping his cock roughly, eyes stuck on your tight pussy.

You moan his name loudly, not caring if Taehyung was home and could hear you. He would surely never let you live this down, but you were determined to cum with Namjoon.

You do cum, juices flooding out of you, and you release one last high pitch moan.

Taehyung does indeed laugh at you, making his own high-pitched moans imitating your own.

Taehyung begins to miss you. You were his best friend, someone who would always be there when he needed you. He took your time for granted. You had boyfriends and lovers, sure, but they never took up much of your time.

Namjoon, however, had. You'd often be on your phone when you were home, eyes glued to the screen completely. Your signature movie marathons were interrupted when the notification from your phone went off. You'd be smiling ear to ear and suddenly, he was second place.

You and Taehyung couldn't as much as play Mario Kart without you pausing to send a message to Namjoon and now, you were working his nerves. You were always his number one girl - hell, his number one person. As much as he had girlfriends, he'd never let them come between your friendship. His former girlfriends never understood that you were his best friend and came first - maybe that's why he was single now.

"We need to talk." Taehyung pipes up one day during dinner. You were both eating burgers and the constant sound of your phone going off was driving him irate.

You furrow a brow at Taehyung but nod.

"Are you sure you're speaking with Namjoon?"

You stop chewing. You turn towards him on the couch and stare for a few moments.

"Don't give me that look, Y/N." Taehyung rolls his eyes. "You said you never seen in face during these calls."

Maybe Taehyung was being picky and possibly confrontational. However, your well-being was his top concern. There was a possibility that whoever you were conversing with could be a creep using your naivety to their advantage.

"You do this all the time, Tae." You murmur, voice low. You no longer have an appetite.

"Y/N..." Taehyung sighs. He understands that tone in your voice. "I don't mean to hurt you-"

"You think Namjoon could never like me." you shrug your shoulders, biting your lip. "No man can ever like me in your eyes."

"That's not true!" Taehyung exclaims. He places his plate on the coffee table and turns to you fully. "I love you, Y/N. You know this. I just don't want you to be taken advantage of."

Taehyung was no fighter, but if your well-being was compromised, he would. He was a man, after all, and men had sick thoughts. Some thoughts he would never bring to the light, but they remained there, nonetheless. He'd hate to see you in a situation that could bring you to a depressive state.

"I just miss you. I miss us." Taehyung leans back into the couch and releases a sigh. "You're always talking to Namjoon and you never have time for me anymore."

"Aww," you began to smile. "Tae Tae!" you laugh. You lean forward to wrap your friend into a hug. "You missed me this much?"

Taehyung chuckles. "I hate you." he responds, but he returns your hug, nonetheless.

Taehyung was jealous, he'd admit. He'd never felt as if he'd ever lose you to another man before.

But Taehyung understood that one day you'd need to find a partner and eventually, you'd get married and have a family of your own. There would come a time where Taehyung won't be the most important person in your life anymore, and though it'll hurt, he'd have to get over it.

"You know I'd never leave you behind, Tae." you tell him, assuring. You lean back from the embrace. "Do you...think it's Namjoon?"

Taehyung bites his lips. He's unsure himself. A part of him wants to believe that Namjoon is the man you're speaking with. But he was sure this could be an episode of Catfish. You rarely speak to him on the phone, and when you do manage to facetime him, his face is never in the camera.

Taehyung swallows. "Well..." he trails off. "Why don't you ask to meet up?" Namjoon lives in the same city and goes to a neighboring university. Meeting up wouldn't be anything difficult if he is who he claims to be.

"I tried." you nod your head. "He...he says he's busy with school work and-"

"Y/N." Taehyung interrupts. "What did I tell you?"

You roll your eyes and groan out, "If a man wants to see me-"

"He'd make the effort to." Taehyung finishes with a nod. "Now, maybe this is Namjoon. But if you're going to keep fucking yourself-"

You widen your eyes and yelp. "Shut up!" you slap his shoulder.

Taehyung released a loud, deep laugh. "Don't hit me! I'm just saying, Y/N. You can't keep doing this virtual relationship when we live in the same city as the man."

You knew Taehyung was right. There's been many offers on your part to meet up, but they were always shut down. You tried to be supportive and understanding, but it was frustrating.

"Do you think he has a girlfriend, maybe?"

"Please don't put those thought in my head." you groan out, hands on your head now. "I cannot imagine being the other woman, Tae Tae."

Taehying shakes his head. "I'm just curious. Nothing more, nothing less." he assures. He knew what you were when you got into your own head. "Let's go out. It's happy hour."

You snicker. "You don't drink often."

"Duh." Taehyung responds matter-of-factly. "Half off all smoothies. Let's go, we only have about 30 minutes left."

This is what you adored about Taehyung. He was spontaneous in a way. He wasn't like other men and was a nerd at heart. You two had traditions. Every Monday there was a movie marathon you both attended in the living room - you both had later classes and didn't need to work. Wednesdays were considered errand day. Taehyung claimed to hate this day, but he never allowed you to hold a bag from the grocery store after running around throwing everything in the cart.

Taehyung was your best friend and you're grateful that you met him many years ago; and just as grateful that you maintained the friendship even into your adulthood.

"Y/N, open the door!"

You lean against the bathroom door, tears trailing down your eyes at an alarming pace. Your hands tangle in your hair and you're doing everything in your power to calm your breathing.

You're embarrassed.

You're traumatized.

You're disgusted with yourself more than anything.

Taehyung continues to knock on the door in hopes you'd open up to him. He hated seeing you cry. You appeared vulnerable and fragile. But he was your best friend and needed to help you through your pain.

You fingers pull your hair at the scalp while you attempted to drown out Taehyung's knocks and calls.

You were wrong about him - Namjoon. You couldn't face Taehyung now. You were positive that he wouldn't laugh in your face about how you were wrong about him. However, you wish that the ground would crumble up and swallow you whole.

While Taehyung and you were out getting smoothies, his eyes had caught an interesting site. Namjoon wasn't someone that you could miss easily. He was as tall as he was clumsy, and clumsy he surely was. Him dropping three smoothies onto the ground as soon as he got it causes Taehyung to offer help.

Taehyung and he chatted for a few moments, laughing at how clumsy he was. They weren't friends, but they weren't strangers.

That was your moment to enter. Maybe he didn't see you there with Taehyung. When else would you get the opportunity to meet with him? You introduced yourself and Namjoon offers a wide dimpled smile that faded each moment as you began to speak. He was confused - genuinely confused on what you were speaking of.

"You were talking to me?" Namjoon ponders aloud. "I-I...don't think it was me."

You felt hot upon hearing the words. The confusion on his face, mixed with the hesitance in his voice. He was telling the truth. He didn't know who you were in the slightest.

"Hold on!" Namjoon calls, but you sprint out of the cafe. Taehyung follows close behind you.

"Open the door, Y/N. Please talk to me." Taehyung is begging now, pleading with everything in him for you to speak with him.

Taehyung steps back when the door swings open. Your eyes were puffy, and cheeks stained with tears. He steps forward to engulf you in a hug, but you step around him. You make a dash to you into your room, but Taehyung is trailing close behind you. As you try to slam your door, Taehyung pushes his way through. "Ignoring me won't make it go away."

"I don't want to talk." you cry. It was bad enough that you had to deal with the fact that you were dumb enough to believe Namjoon would talk to you. Now, having to face Taehyung - someone who voiced his own concerns about it - was just a slap to the face.

"Y/N. I'm your friend!" Taehyung hisses. He doesn't mean for his words to come off harsh, but he would be damned if he allowed you to be alone in your own self-pity. "Let me comfort you."

And you do. Taehyung doesn't speak when you cry into his chest. He was sure his shirt would be covered in tears and snot by the time you were done, but nothing a little laundry detergent and water could help.

Taehyung rubs your back soothingly when you calm down. He doesn't push you to talk to him right away. He understands your hurt - he only wish he could take your pain away.

"I feel so stupid." you murmur after an hour. Taehyung and you now laid upon your bed, your head on his shoulder. "Namjoon must think I'm a loser."

"He doesn't." Taehyung responds. "He looked concern. I didn't have a chance to speak with him." You were his main concern, but he'll have to get in contact with Namjoon and explain the situation sooner or later.

"You were right." you bitterly scoff. "I showed my body to some creep like a whore."

"Stop it, Y/N. You aren't a whore." Taehyung turns to you. He's glad you aren't crying anymore, but he wasn't going to listen to you insult yourself. "You were catfished. it happens to all of us. Block that person immediately."

And you do. You were hesitant in the beginning. A part of you wanted to believe that the person you were speaking with was indeed Namjoon, but you understood you had to do what was best - which was blocking the catfisher. It shouldn't be anything to question. It was the obvious thing to do, but you can't stop yourself from feeling empty afterwards.

Taehyung on the other hand decided that he needed to keep you at eye level. He didn't wish to smother you - being overly affectionate about your situation would only make you think about the situation more often. But he knew he needed to be there for you as much as you'd let him.

A week thus far had passed, and Taehyung is unsure how you're handling everything. He's sure you're choosing to ignore everything. each moment he'd ask if you're alright, you'd brush him off as if it was obvious that you were indeed alright. "Why wouldn't I be?" you'd ask in response. Why wouldn't you be alright? You were catfished by who the hell knows. This person has your nudes plastered all over their phone. It would be traumatizing for anyone.

Another week passes and you're walking alongside Taehyung to your joint apartment. You're content that he hasn't spoken about the situation. You were glad you had a Taehyung in your life that cares for you, but you needed nothing more than to move on from this situation.

Taehyung presses the buttons to the apartment to unlock it. He twists the door and swings it open. He flicks on the lights and halts in his tracks.

You push around him to enter. Your eyes catch the scene before you and you suddenly feel sick to your stomach.

"Y/N..."

You don't respond to Taehyung. Instead, your eyes are flickering to the countless pictures hanging in the apartment - all of you. The same pictures you sent to the catfisher.

'Who the hell are you?'

The last thing you wanted to do was get in contact with someone you never wanted to speak with again. This same someone could be someone dangerous and deranged.

How the catfisher managed to figure out where you lived to just display countless pictures of you - the same ones you sent to them - was psychotic behavior.

Taehyung had watched you break down one too many times, but this was different. You cried even harder as you snatched all the pictures and crumbled them in your hands. He's unsure what to do - how to comfort you. He's breathing heavily and he's attempting to rack his brain around this situation.

Taehyung asks if you'd like to go to the police station and report this. It was stalking and harassment, surely there was something that could be done. But you turned the idea down. You were humiliated. How could you go to someone and admit that you were catfished in the most obvious way and now being tormented?

Your hands snatch your phone from your bed once you received a notification. It was them.

You read the message while licking your lips in anticipation.

'Hello, Y/N.'

You're pissed now. Why were they responding as if nothing was gone?

'I'm sure you feel stupid.'

They were taunting you now. As if you were some type of joke in their sick game.

'What do you want from me?'

You hesitantly wait for a response. You're unsure if you want to know. The type of material they had on you was enough to ruin your life.

'To embarrass you.'

Your eyes begin to water. You're racking your brain to figure out what you did to deserve this? Did they know who you were personally? You weren't one to be rude to anyone, even when they deserved it. You've gone to restaurants where your order has been royally fucked up and you've never complained. You were polite when needed to. At your own job, the customers and their attitudes were off the wall, however, you could never bring yourself to give the same energy they gave.

'You've allowed me to embarrass you. You've sent me these pictures. They belong to me now.'

Your stomach churns.

'And you also belong to me now.'

Taehyung knocks at your door. He hasn't heard from you in hours. He told himself it was best to leave you be for a while, but a while has passed. He feared you would hurt yourself. No, you never did anything to hurt yourself before, but you've never been through anything such as this.

Taehyung twists your doorknob and pokes his head in. The room is dark, but he can see your body curled on your bed, head faced down. He hears slight sobs, and he feels horrible. "Y/N?" he calls, stepping forward. "Don't cry."

It was easier said than done. It wasn't Taehyung being harassed by a random person who knew a little too much about you.

"We're going to get through this." Taehyung places a hand on your back and begins to rub. "We can go to the police-"

"No." you jolt up and shake your head. You proceed to wipe your eyes. "They h-have pictures and videos and..."

"Sshh..." Taehyung shakes his head. "I understand but-"

"But they own me." you scoff bitterly. "They said...they said I have to do things for them. Him. Them...I don't even know if it's one person or not."

Taehyung furrows a brow. "Do things for them? What the hell do they want?" he hisses.

You begin to cry harder. You wanted to vomit all over the place. You feel your heart begin to break at what your life was becoming.

"Tell me, Y/N." Taehyung's voice becomes louder with authority. "What do they-"

Taehyung hears another notification. It's not your phone, but his own. He looks down at his phone and shakes his head. "I don't understand."

Your eyes watch as Taehyung opens the message and begins to read.

'Hello, Taehyung. You claim to love Y/N and would do anything for her, what are you willing to do to get her out of trouble?'

"What trouble, Y/N?" Taehyung flickers his eyes from his phone screen to you. "You can come to me for anything, you know that, right?"

"I can't-"

"Y/N you can!" Taehyung hisses, but another message comes before he can continue.

'You two are best friends, are you not? How friendly are you?'

"What does he mean?" Taehyung scans your frightened expression.

"He wants you to..." you feel sick, lightheaded. "to...he wants to watch you and me..."

Taehyung's expression turns from confused to puzzled in a matter of seconds at the realization.

'I bet you're asking what I get out of this. I like to see people like you squirm. You don't deserve this, of course, but bad things always happen to good people.'

"There has to be a way to track these people." Taehyung scoffs in disbelief. There wasn't a way they were going to blackmail the two of you.

"I-I tried...I-I-"

"Calm down." Taehyung places a hand on your knee. "It'll-"

Taehyhung's phone rings in his hands. It's the same unknown person and he answers immediately. He was ready to cuss and scream at whoever it was, but they're speaking before him.

"You can do as I say or everyone in your contacts - both of your contacts - will know of these pictures."

Your breath hitches in your throat. You don't recognize the voice, but it appears to be using a face tone either way, possibly through an app.

"If you choose to do as I say, I will send you a link to a livestream."

"L-Livestream?" you choke. Who the hell would be watching?

"Don't worry, only I would be attending."

"What are we expected to do?" Taehyung murmurs.

"You know. Fuck her."

You began to cry.

"You may say you're just friends, but how could you not want to fuck her when your room is exactly besides hers?"

Taehyung's fists clench.

"Do you hear her fucking herself-"

"Stop!" Taehyung hisses. "What do you want? Money?"

"If I wanted money, I'd ask for money." the voice offers a deep chuckle. "I want to see how much of a slut she is."

Your tears are falling effortlessly down your cheeks.

"If she could bare it all for me and she wasn't certain who I truly was, what is she willing to do with someone she's known for years?"

"We don't have to do this."

You're trembling, unable to look Taehyung in the eye. You feel naked before him - and technically you are. You were by no means insecure when it came to Taehyung. He's seen you down to your bra, but that was because you were drunk out your mind. Your intoxicated state had vomited all over yourself, the floor and the surrounding people.

This? This was different. Taehyung had never seen you in lingerie before and you're sure he didn't want to. Your arms were crossed over your chest, the lingerie you wore clinging onto your skin uncomfortably. It was lacy and black, and you're positive that it would be a set you adored if you weren't forced into.

You were shocked by Taehyung agreeing to the terms of the pyscho catfisher. In the beginning, you had concluded he only did so because you were a crying mess at the catfishers words. But when the catfisher had contacted the both of you once more a week later, Taehyung had not gone against his word. Even with the amount of demands they had - you wearing a specific lingerie that you sent to you. They have given both you and Taehyung sexual enhancements - liquid shots that you were instructed to take over 20 minutes ago on a livestream.

You owned a laptop, but Taehyung owned a desktop setup that he was instructed to connect to a larger monitor so the catfisher could comment while being a creep and watching.

You glanced at Taehyung and sniffled. He wore nothing but his boxer and though you never thought about Taehyung sexually, you couldn't help your eyes from wandering. You blamed the sexual enhancement.

A notification sounds from the monitor. Your head snaps to it, reading what the catfisher has written.

'You two are boring.'

Taehyung scoffs. He turns his head towards you once more. "Y/N..."

'We don't have to do this.' But you did need to do this. The threats and harassment were becoming unbearable. If they needed to see you embarrass yourself and possibly ruin your friendship with Taehyung, then so be it.

"You need to fuck me, Tae."

Before Taehyung can react, another comment comes from the voyeuristic catfisher.

'I want to see foreplay. Sex isn't enjoyable without it.'

You gulp. You inhale deeply and exhale slowly. You haven't had sex with a man in almost a year. By the look of Taehyung's underwear, your dildo could not prepare you enough.

'You already took the enhancements. Make this worth your while.'

Taehyung turns to you fully. He's attempted as much as he could to not look at you. He wasn't a pervert - especially to you. He loved you. You weren't the typical fuck to him. "Try...laying down."

You nod your head. You allowed your arms to fall to your sides. Taehyung himself blames the sexual enhancement he took. Had your body always been this inviting?

"W-What are we gonna do?" you murmur to him, laying down on his bed. You feel awkward and wanted to die on the spot.

"Relax." Taehyung responds. He places a hand on your knee and gently rubs it. "I'll never hurt you, Y/N, baby."

You feel the gush rush between your legs. Goosebumps run up your arms and shakingly release a breath. Taehyung's voice could possibly never be this deep before.

"You trust me, don't you?" Taehyung kneels down, brown eyes staring into yours. When you nod your head, Taehyung offers a small smile. "Open your legs."

The lace allows Taehyung to get a glimpse at how wet your pussy was. He grunts lowly, tongue poking out to wet his lips.

Your back arches when you feel Taehyung send a kiss on your clothed clit. You head is spinning - this was your best friend. You could even consider Taehyung to be like a brother, now you're not so sure.

Taehyung rubs his lips against your clothed clit, his cock twitching in his underwear. It's tight and needs to be torn off, but you weren't someone he would fuck into the mattress like a savage. He had to prep you first. Your scent is inviting - it makes his mouth water.

You can feel Taehyung's finger push the lace panty aside. You're fully exposed in front of him now.

Taehyung doesn't hold back. He licks a slow stripe up your clit and watches your reaction. It causes him to lick and suck when he notices you're just as into as he is - this frightens him. Taehyung suckles on your clit - his best friends clit - so savagely that his sucking is echoing off his bedroom walls.

You tell yourself that this is a onetime thing - that this could never happen again. It was the sexual enhancement that has Taehyung so deep into your pussy that you're enjoying it.

Your moans send Taehyung over the edge. He hooks his hands beneath your knees and locks you in place so he could continue to suck on your clit. He watches you, mouth agape and moaning for him so loudly that he's leaking like a teenager in his underwear.

"Tae..." you gasp his name, flinching at the overstimulation. "....fuck."

Taehyung lifts his head and licks his lips. "Are you okay, baby?"

You moan again because shit, Taehyung was sexy. You never thought this man was anything but your cute best friend who enjoyed playing dorky games and even more dorky hobbies. Was this what his former girlfriends experienced?

Taehyung enters two fingers inside of you. He pumps slowly, astonished at how wet and tight you were.

It's amazing that the both of you were forgetting the camera recording the livestream, but you two will blame the sexual enhancement.

"You're so wet, baby." Taehyung hisses, pumping his fingers faster. "So wet and so beautiful."

You groan, eyes squeezed shut. Your legs are quivering.

Taehyung's free hand allows your leg to fall. His hand snatches at the bra of your lingerie and tugs. He needed to suck on your breast - plump and ready. Your nipples are erect for him when he snatches them out and he doesn't hesitate to suck on them.

You can't hide your moans any longer. Your breast was a sensitive area, and Taehyung doesn't slow when he's sucking.

Taehyung's breathing quickens, sweat trickling down his forehead. He can sense that you were close to cumming just from how tight your pussy clenches around his fingers. He couldn't wait to be able to fuck you.

"You're going to cum all over my fingers, aren't you?" Taehyung's sucking extends outside of your nipples. He's biting your breast, appearing completely animalistic, and leaving behind marks and bruises.

"Yes, I'm gonna cum." you nod your head, hips wiggling to get away from the sensation. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." you hiss, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

The sound of the squirt sprouting out mixed with your sudden screams are a perfect melody, perfectly in sync. The bed is wet, as are you and him.

“I’m gonna fuck you." Taehyung hisses, pushing his underwear down.

Taehyung is huge. His cock is sprung, pink and veiny. It was perfect.

Taehyung places the tip of his cock on your clit and groans. "Fuck, baby, you're so sexy." he murmurs, eyes glued on your wet, glistening clit. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

You nod without a thought. If he could finger fuck you into oblivion, you had a wild ride ahead of you.

Taehyung enters you and hisses. There was no time to hesitate. He fucks into you deeply, hands clenching your hips. He lifts your hips so that he has full control to get deeper inside of you.

"Shit." you moan, shaking your head. Your eyes catch on the site, Taehyung so focus on his thrusts that he doesn't notice you observing him.

Taehyung was so beautiful, so caring. You couldn't think of another man that you loved more than Taehyung.

Taehyung bites his lips, eyes flickering to yours. His heart jumps to find your eyes - filled with lust - already on him. "Feels good?" he smirks, nails digging into your skin deeper.

"I love you, Tae." you slur your words, you're positive you could cum again right now.

Taehyung halts his thrusts. "Huh?"

"I love you." you sigh. "Please don't stop." you beg.

You loved him.

Taehyung knows this. Of course you love him. You two were best friends - the bestest of friends.

But this confession of love appeared personal.

"I love you, too, baby." Taehyung flips you around. He slams your face into his bed. Your ass is in the air, and he sends a quick slap upon it before entering you again. "How much do you love me?"

You're unable to give a response with the power in his thrusts. Your hands clench his bedsheets.

"I love you so much, Tae." you moan, eyes squeezed shut. He was fucking too good that you couldn't do anything but say you loved him. You're unsure if a man has ever made you feel as good as Taehyung did - and that was deadly. This was someone you'd had to look at once the sexual high (and enhancement) wore off.

Taehyung groans, hips snapping into you. His right hand slaps your cheek. "Say it again, baby. Say you love me."

You enjoyed being hit, Taehyung notes, you clench around him.

"I-I love you...." you're cumming and moaning uncontrollably.

Taehyung was near himself. You sounded so beautiful; your pussy was amazing. Your body captivates him and he surely did adore you. The sayings were correct - sex with those you loved was far more intimate when it was with someone you loved.

Taehyung shoots his cum inside of you, cursing as he does so. His cum shoots out of you and it drips down your clit and onto his bedsheets.

You fall into the bed, breathing deeply. Your eyelids were heavy.

Taehyung falls besides you and wraps an arm around your waist.

Namjoon hands squeezes the tip of his cock, his eyes are glues to the screen. He came just in time with you and Taehyung, the sight amazing. He continues to eye his screen to see the both of you soundly asleep, forgetting about you livestream show they put on for him.

Namjoon was but a man. People would say he was a sick bastard if he found out what he was doing, but he wouldn't call himself sick. He was just...a man. He had needs like the rest of the men around the world had. Sure, maybe what he was doing wasn't necessarily "human decency" but he couldn't help his self.

Namjoon understood that he had a problem at a young age. He loved to see women in positions such as this - humiliated. Degraded. Helpless.

Namjoon once attempted to get help. He spoke to therapist about his sadism. He didn't want to hurt people, no, but watching and enjoying people be humiliated brough him great pleasure.

Namjoon was a voyeur. He adored being able to sit and attend the sex parties. The gangbangs were his favorite - the sight of a woman being completed used for pleasure brought him over the edge. He understood he was a sick individual, but he was far too deep into this.

Namjoon groans, pumping his cock in his hand at the site of Taehyung pounding inside of you. It was obvious the sexual enhancement had only enhanced the sexual attraction that was already there. Taehyung licked your pussy with such need and desire - only could be done with someone he truly loved and desired.

Taehyung fucks you with such need, almost as if he was waiting for this very moment. Namjoon cums too quickly for his liking, but it wasn't long until he was erect again.

The moans from Taehyung and you were the icing on the cake. You were far into the sex that you forgot he was watching. You should thank him, truly. You were getting the best sex of your life by your best friend - yelling out constant "I love you's". Namjoon was a match-maker, he thinks.

When you fall asleep, Namjoon manages to clean himself. He showers and washes the clothes he had on prior. His mind wanders to the previous weeks. How you had introduced yourself to him and how he had to pretend not to know who you were. You were hurt and the hurt does nothing but turn him on. He remembers the way you ran out of the smoothie shop in pure embarrassment.

Taehyung calls after you, but not before stopping by Namjoon first.

"How do you think she'll handle it?" Namjoon asked, furrowing a brow.

Taehyung shrugs. "She's embarrassed. That was part of the plan."

As Namjoon exits his shower, his phone rings. He strolls back towards his bedroom where his desktop laid, livestream still on. Taehyung was not in site, but you remained asleep on the bed.

Namjoon grasps his phone and hums. He answers. "You're calling sooner than expected."

Taehyung chuckles.

"How does it feel?" Namjoon asks. "To finally fuck Y/N?"

Taehyung groans. "Like heaven." he admits.

Namjoon snorts, rolling his eyes.

Taehyung's plan to get you into bed was a wild one. When the younger man had come to him with the plan, he had laughed in his face. However, Taehyhung remained stoic. He was serious, and Namjoon was intrigued.

Taehyung was no fool to Namjoon's own kinks and fetishes. Who else would be the one to go along with his plan? Sure, Taehyung's plan was a bit insane and time consuming. "Talk to Y/N pretending to be yourself, get her comfortable and then pretend to not know who the hell she is."

It took Namjoon months to get to know you. You were a genuine person, and the wholesome part of him understood what he was doing was wrong. But, the chance to witness you vulnerable had caused him to go along with the sick plan by no one other than your best friend.

"By all means necessary." Taehyung had assured, and Namjoon had delivered.

You were a beauty. You weren't the outgoing type so to get you to become intimate with him wasn't something to be done easily. But Namjoon was persistent. He got you comfortable enough that you bore it all for him - and he had the leverage he needed to break you.

Taehyung had received all the pictures and videos you had sent Namjoon - what he did to them, Namjoon had a clue. But he wasn't one to judge; he did the same.

"What now?" Namjoon sits at his desk. You stirred but didn't wake. "Is the game over?"

Taehyung sighs. "No." he responds. "I haven't compensated you."

Namjoon scoffs. "You don't need to pay me. It was fun."

Taehyung is silent on the other end, so silent that Namjoon checks to see if he had hung up.

"Don't you want to fuck her?"

The question catches Namjoon by surprise. "H-huh?"

Taehyung snorts on the other end.

"Tae, it's not funny." Namjoon hisses. "Stop joking."

'I'm not." Taehyung quips. "Her pussy still belongs to me, Joon-ah. I just want you to...have a little taste." Taehyung voice seemingly darkens, and Namjoon stiffens.

"Is that so?" Namjoon questions.

"Of course. I have to be there, though." Taehyung says. "I'm sure we can come up with another plan for her to let the both of us have her."

"At the...same time?" Namjoon can just feel his cock harden. He never participated in a threesome before and just the thought has him ready to cum once more.

"Yes."

Namjoon licks his lips.

"Okay." Namjoon needs to keep his composure. He couldn't allow his excitement to be exposed at this moment. You were once considered off-limits, but now Taehyung was extending his possession for him. "What's the plan?"

Taehyung clicks his tongue. "I'll get back at you." he says. "I know you're hard again."

Namjoon cheeks flushs. Taehyung knew him too well.

"I'm going to fuck Y/N again and you're going to watch." Taehyung sing-songs. "Give you a little show of just how good my pussy feels. How good it'll soon feel for the both of us."

Taehyung hangs the phone up and like clockwork, he's back into the room. Namjoon gulps. Again, he was but a man - as fucked up as it was.

#fic rec #bts yandere #explicit-tae #unusual suspects

1K notes · View notes

taegularities · 3 years ago

Text

ruin you: remedy | kth & jjk (m)

Summary: When the flames of the fire begin seething the wildest, you find yourself at a crossroad you never intended to discover.

⋙ pairing: Taehyung x female reader x Jungkook ⋙ rating: 18+ ⋙ genre: established relationship & fwb; angst, smut ⋙ warnings: deep conversations, mention of past cheating, fights, stupid ex, heartbreak, pining, jealousy, anger, decisions, explicit sexual content: one spank?, dom!jk, sub!reader, dom!tae (short scene), oral f. & m. rec., fingering, rough/angry sex, teasing, cockwarming, cum eating, manhandling, jk’s piercings 😐, shower stuff, koo is angry :’), some pussy slapping, finger sucking, biting, praising, goodbyes; maybe more but i’m SO tired, so lmk if i forgot smth <3 ⋙ wc: 12k ⋙ a/n: aaaaand it’s done. thank you so much for being here guys. the support was CRAZY. thank you also to my dearest love @missgeniality for not just making this AMAZING banner, but for being there for me for A WHOLE YEAR too. this series would be NOTHING without you and i love you so much, gosh :((( and now, without further ado – let’s go!

⁂ part of the ruin you series

⁂ playlist 🎶

MASTERLIST | WIPS

Numbing silence awaits you when you open your eyes.

Jungkook has long gone to work and left you sulking on your mattress – but then again, you’ve been spiralling for days now, and blaming the shift in your mood on him is both unfair and untruthful.

Yet, you despise the emptiness in your room and the cold half of your bed. Jungkook shouldn’t be gone at all; it’s Saturday, the weekend, and you’re supposed to sleep in, cuddle up and wake up to his smile, as it goes every week. But he’s a slave to capitalism like the rest of you, and when his boss calls him for an urgent meeting, he’s in no position to decline.

But you miss him.

Being alone has become a sensation so intense that it drags you down like a heavy blanket of metal; and since Jungkook’s office keeps piling up work for him, he comes home exhausted every day. Idle steps carry him in; then, he showers, eats and falls asleep within an hour and a half.

You feel sorry for him and his co-workers – the burn out must be real these days. Jungkook has told you about an assistant before, a new presence in the office who’s supposed to aid them in their quests, but according to him, she won’t be arriving in the next three or four weeks.

With the thought of their boss giving them hell, your mind shifts, and you wonder how Taehyung is doing.

Tae.

You’ve neither seen or heard of him since the last time you sinned and imploded in his bedroom. His sheets remained less stained than your heart, and pieces of it still crumble when you think back to your shared evening. Memories of it call forth thunderclouds over your head; the heartbreak and tears, the fright and insecurity.

The way he looked at you. His strong eyes holding your wide ones; waiting for an answer… waiting for anything.

“I don’t expect you to give in to me. I know you don’t belong to me.”

Your silence stretched for too long, and his palm resting on your knee retreated, his heart sinking and the urge to run away growing. You were staring at him like a doe caught in headlights, and he wasn’t sure how much of it he was still ready to take.

“I’m–”

“I’m really not… expecting you to do anything,” he interrupted, blinking slowly, voice strained and his body drained. Saying anything at all sucked the energy out of him. “You and Jungkook don’t deserve any pain, and I won’t break you either. Just… wanted you to know.”

In the briefest, fleeting of moments when he’d wrecked your body not even half an hour ago, you’d guessed his inner chaos and its cause for the first time. Understood that it might not have had to do with work or any other crisis taking its course in his life but you. And you had offered to shatter his heart further. You’d been a fool all along.

“Why did you never tell me before?” you mumbled, wrapped in discomfort and ache.

Your thoughts whirled like a hurricane, destroying everything in their path; you weren’t sure whether to soothe his pain with words which would do nothing anyway or to run away. Looking at him always felt like staring at the moon and the sun at the same time. But right now, he resembled darkness and doom, and your heart bled and fell.

“Because you scare me,” he answered. His lips pressed together and then released to form a line. The soft cherry of them seemed to dim and fade, and your gaze shifted between them and his eyes silently. Then, he added, “Everything about being around you… scares me.”

The explanation about the being of your relationship was answered when he told you he wouldn’t dare to hurt Jungkook or you. There was nothing much left to say, or nothing your mind could summon to ease the heaviness of the situation. And so, you uttered a measly, little, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” In the pauses between his words, you swore you could hear the hammering of your heart as though it was chiming through speakers. Perhaps he had noticed, too. ”We shouldn’t have done that.”

“We shouldn’t have,” you agreed, fingers fiddling with a loose string of your sleeve nervously; your mind was blanking, despite the same words circling your thoughts, and you repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he attempted to assure, but his voice was shaking and his eyes sinking.

Fuck, it hurt. It needed to stop affecting you like this.

Why does it not affect you?

His words echoed and replayed in your mind, hurt and confused.

Does it not affect you?

“It’s not your fault I fell for my best friend’s girl.”

A shudder shook your body, and you closed your eyes for a hint of peace or serenity, something to make him fade once you opened them again. You didn’t dare to look at him, prolonging the silence; but then, your feet found the ground of reality again, and you registered a faint touch of his skin against yours.

The back of his warm fingers brushed against your cheeks, comforting and dangerous, and you flinched until you noticed that he’d wiped a tear off your face. Leaning back with a tired gaze, a corner of his lips raised almost unnoticeable, and he took a deep, sharp breath before he stated, “You should go.”

You imitated the inhale, uncaring of the dampness of your hair before you put on your jacket, lifted the hood over your head and left.

Maybe it’d been a bad idea to walk around in the darkness and cold without alerting any of the boys. The streets were freezing and your jacket too thin, and it took Jungkook four missed calls, six messages and panic and anger brewing inside him till he finally reached and found you.

You didn’t cry that night. Not when he picked you up. Neither when his rage turned into soft worry, his lips kissing you in the parking lot and words whispering how much his mind had spiralled. You loved his warmth and his comfort, his reassurances and his hands. His body, his eyes, his fingers, his heart.

“Please don’t do this to me again,” he’d pleaded, and you’d nodded, feeling ashamed and utterly stupid.

You wondered if he’d called Taehyung, curious what or how much he’d told your boyfriend. But you couldn’t ask and couldn’t reveal the happenings of the evening; not because you wanted to keep them secret. Neither, because you thought you’d done something behind his back – Jungkook knew; the intimacy between Taehyung and you was nothing new.

But you couldn’t say a word, because the sneeze that followed introduced you to a hazy week of fever, not a single call or message from the older man coming in anymore; thoughts shifting and time passing.

When Taehyung opens his heavy door, siren eyes stare back at him.

He’s tired and hungover, a light stubble around his mouth and his hair dishevelled and messy. The white Celine shirt hugs his body comfortably, and for a moment, the woman in front of him remembers the soft college boy who hadn’t yet carried mystery and power in his eyes the way the he does now.

Back then, Taehyung was a bubble of joy and excitement, the boxy grin known around campus and loved by many. By so many – but apparently not enough by her.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the hand behind his door holding the handle tighter.

Years ago, the sight of her had made his heart jump and do cartwheels, hands pulling her in and keeping her close till the morning broke in. Now, her face disgusts him. She’s still as pretty as she ever was – a true piece of art. But her presence. Her perfume. The inviting eyes… soft hands… cleanly cut and manicured nails.

She hasn’t changed, and it might be the biggest reason to despise her existence.

“Good afternoon to you, too,” she cheers, her mood too good and her smile too bright.

Yejun has never been one to drown in sadness for too long. But when Taehyung’s expressions remain unimpressed, her grin falls, too, and in a serious tone, she declares, “I need to talk to you.”

“Talk then,” he shoots, folding his arms in front of his chest.

Yejun concludes that he must either be unaware of the bitter cold outside his heated apartment or must genuinely, undoubtedly still hate her. Either way, it won’t stop her from trying… not yet at least.

She steps closer to his body, feet carrying her forwards and him backwards until she’s entered his place enough to shut the door behind her. Courageously, her palm wraps around his, and when he doesn’t protest for a little moment, hope grows in her like a spring flower. She leans back against the door, sighing as she confesses, “I miss you.”

Taehyung huffs mockingly, eyes rolling as his hand tries to escape her grip. But she wraps his fingers around his tighter, pulling his lax body in easily until he’s mere inches from her heartbeat.

“I mean it,” Yejun continues, pouting with the most innocent gaze as a soft thumb brushes over the back of his hand. “I feel like some idiot from a movie saying this, but I mean it when I say that I kept thinking of you all this time. And seeing you, feeling you again…”

Taehyung’s jaw clenches, and she doesn’t miss the hint of impatience in his eyes before she rushes, “Tae, the things you said to me that night… and the way you touched me, I know there’s still something. And,” she shifts closer, hands settling on his chest, “I miss you. Every memory is connected to you.”

As her fingers brush over his clothed torso, to his shoulders and his neck, Taehyung’s brain fills with a delirious fog for the briefest moment. Thoughts of you suddenly pain less, and his body asks for more of Yejun’s touches silently. Fingertips on his jaw, on the nape of his neck, tugging at his hair… eyes staring at his lips, her own mouth moving closer…

But then, reality shoves a dagger through his already crumbling heart, and he shakes his head before he smirks and says, “I touched you the way I did, because it wasn’t you who I was thinking about.”

Her shoulders fall the moment he breathes the last syllable against her skin, and a sense of betrayal spreads across her chest and her features. She shouldn’t be feeling this way; she knows it as well as he does.

But when he grabs her hands and pushes them away, turning to walk into his spacious living room, she follows, stubborn as ever as she claims, “This is ridiculous.”

“Please leave.”

“But I’m tryin–”

“Trying what, huh?” he snarls, feet stopping in front of his table as anger takes the lead. “You fucking cheated on me. Not the easiest thing to forgive or forget… so how did you think I’d take you back just like that after years?”

“You loved me.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, lifting the half full glass of water from his table to his lips. He clears his throat and refreshes his mind before he adds, “I did. Past tense, Yejun.”

She watches his Adam’s apple bop as though hypnotised, feeling hurt, confused and unloved as she inches closer and asks, “You’ve nothing of it left anymore? Nothing at all?”

“No.”

“Tae–”

“I’m serious. Get the hell out.”

“No, I–”

A sudden smash elicits a small yelp out of her, her whole body flinching when the glass he was holding just a moment ago crashes against the corner of the room and splinters into dozens and hundreds of tiny shards. Her eyes squint shut, hands landing on her ears before she dares to look at him again.

His lips are parted, the emotions in his eyes a frightening mixture of anger towards her and fear of himself. He never had the intention to fall this deep, but thoughts of you are fucking him up intrinsically. And before he knows it, a syllable of your name falls out of his mouth. It’s a sickening feeling in the deepest of his guts, and his mind just barely stops him before he swallows your name again.

Calming his breathing, he takes a seat on the edge of the couch, leaning forwards to place his arms on his thighs. Long fingers fold into each other, and between his spread legs, he stares at the ground as he hears her query, “Another lucky woman?”

No.

You’ll never just feel like another woman. But Taehyung’s energy to explain things is running low, and the breaking of glass still echoes as background music in his mind, with your voice singing the main chorus but to another man.

“She’s lucky. But I’m not.”

Another beat of silence follows his words. Love never burns out as fast as when someone else is involved. Fighting and holding on only sparks so much hope, but even this little bit of optimism dies when an intruder enters the story. He just hates that he’s the one intruding; not Jungkook.

Yejun accepts her fate, defeated and discouraged before she walks to the corner and leans down. She picks up the shards slowly, placing big ones on her palm as she hears Taehyung’s form shift. A moment later, he’s crouching down with her, shaking his head before he takes the glass from her hands and whispers, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

He pulls her away from the crime scene gently, throwing away the broken piece into the kitchen bin with one last glance to it. Looks a bit like his heart. Determined to stress about the messy chaos later, he brushes his fingers through his hair, tired eyes looking at his ex-girlfriend as he asks, “Have you eaten yet?”

“I haven’t,” she answers, suddenly so much more silent than before.

He feels relief. And stress. Guilt.

“Give me five minutes then. I’ll get you dinner,” Taehyung offers calmly, sighing as he gestures to her to sit down and begins walking towards his room. He stops, however, mid-action, turning around to add, “But then I want you gone.”

And with that, his body disappears behind the shutting door.

Taehyung hates that your existence has become akin to a dream to him. As if you only visited his imagination and left to vanish into a fairytale again. Kissing you feels like a hallucination now. Touching you and smiling at you. Going for walks, eating lunch and enjoying cake at your favourite café feels unreal.

He hates that his steps and unconscious longing have carried him to the very place he avoided for months, in hopes he wouldn’t see you here. And the thing he hates the most is that when he enters the café with Yejun in tow, not only does his gaze immediately fall on you in between the crowd, but on the man sitting in front of you, too.

Of all days.

This is real. Not a hallucination; and you’re not a fairytale.

Taehyung can’t avoid Jeon Jungkook, because the man who returns to the love of his life every evening, curses Taehyung with this reminder every single day in the office, too. Lunch breaks have long started feeling awkward, and each time your name falls, Taehyung’s heart descends with it. He’s sure Jungkook has noticed by now.

Placing a guiding hand on Yejun’s back, Taehyung walks to the opposite end of the café, determined to keep his eyes down and his guard up. But your gaze pierces through him so obviously, waiting for him to notice you, to show any sign of truce, rather than of hostility. And when his self-control fades in the blink of an eye, he lifts his head eventually.

And he was right. You are staring at him, and not very subtly either.

There’s a clear question hidden in your eyes, but he deciphers it effortlessly, being the avid reader who’s begun to understand your every movement and thought. You’re barely blinking, arms propped up on the table with your usual order in front of you. Taehyung remembers that he used to order this cake for you, too.

“What’s going on?” Yejun asks, placing her purse on the table as she sits down.

She follows Taehyung’s stare, turning around to see a surprised woman across the room flash a somewhat ingenuine grin and lift her hand to wink just a little. He meets your sad, familiar smile, sighing as his chest deflates and his guts twirl. An automatic reflex forces him to nod, discomfort spreading in his body when Jungkook, seated in front of you, turns, too, imitating your actions.

A small smile and a silent hey are all you and your boyfriend get from Taehyung; and then he sits down, the corners of his lips falling again. The most lethal fact of your situation is that you know about his feelings, know what might be running through his heartbroken mind.

It’s an encounter you weren’t ready to find yourself in already, and when your eyes flit from Taehyung to Jungkook and back, your heartbeat begins to accelerate to an extent you still can’t explain logically.

“Seems like he’s on a date,” Jungkook sing-songs, raising his beverage to his lips.

“Yeah,” you agree, taking in the mop of the woman’s long hair for just a moment before your fork digs into your dessert again, “seems like it.”

“I just didn’t know he was talking to Yejun again.”

Yejun.

You know that name. How could you forget after your last conversation has been burned into your mind?

But to Jungkook’s knowledge, you know nothing about her.

“Who is she?” you question, acting dumbfounded and lowkey, not letting him see what’s truly swimming beneath your neutral demeanour.

“He dated her during college. She was a bitch, broke his heart, he forgot her and moved on. The same old song.”

You nod, taking a deep breath to conjure a smile at least somewhat authentic. You clear your throat, leaning back in your seat before you ask, “Why would he meet her again then?”

“Beats me.”

You have an idea, of course. The same, stupid excuse that Taehyung had for being with her the last time. Maybe she’s your rebound, or maybe he’s decided to give an old flame a chance when he realised you were entirely off limits. Maybe it’s his way of moving on and finding his old rhythm again.

No.

You slap your audacious inner self for pulling his intentions down like that. Taehyung isn’t one to replace pain with further pain; and even if he chose to do so, you’re not one to dictate his life or decide what’s good for him. He let you go, because he wouldn’t dare to manipulate you either.

But still.

“What were we talking about?” Jungkook asks, holding his cup with both hands as he hums quietly. Then, he snaps his fingers with an idea lighting up in his mind, tilting his head before he adds, “Would you like it if I made you your favourite dish today? An extra big por– are you listening to me?”

The sense of distraction shatters when he raises an eyebrow at you, and you catch your sight shift way too much to the sidelines before it returns back to him. He turns around again, observing Taehyung’s order process as the man points to something on the menu, and for a few seconds, his pupils pause on whatever his older friend and his date are doing.

But then, he looks at you knowingly, a trace of hurt and insecurity already dimming the spark in his eyes before he questions, “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head with a lip bite, folding your legs underneath the table as you respond, “Nothing’s wrong. Why?”

“What happened?”

“When?”

“Whenever.” Jungkook’s tone grows agitated and irritated, his shoulders shrugging as he awaits your answer. But you mute yourself, fear fogging your thoughts and spreading like a current. Gathering all his calmness, Jungkook calls your name and adds, “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

“No, I’m–”

From afar, Taehyung watches your patience and relaxed stance fall, hands fiddling with the corner of the menu. You look upset, stuttering, trying to explain something to Jungkook that Taehyung can’t hear from where his eyes linger on you.

“Does she work with you? Or is she a friend?” Yejun questions, curiosity befalling a jealous mind as her fingertips drum against the table.

“She’s my best friend’s girlfriend.”

“Is there an issue between you?”

“No.”

Short, clipped answers. Eyes hooded, lips curled downwards. His chest heaves, his breaths too deep.

She’s lucky. But I’m not.

“She’s the one you’re in love with, yeah?”

The question catches Taehyung off guard, and he gulps down the thick, invisible knot of ache as he states, “None of your business.”

Yejun leans back, clearly frustrated and close to giving up on trying. Taehyung is a lost cause and she’s not the last reason for dragging him down to the pit of numbness that he resides in now. To know someone he knows has doubled the pain…

“How did you end up falling for your best friend’s–”

“Yejun, what part of shut the fuck up do you not underst–”

A loud clatter of cutlery interrupts his train of thoughts, and when his attention travels to the source of the sound, he’s met with your troubled eyes. They expand and shake, not able to set on either him or Jungkook as your boyfriend argues about something deeply intense.

What’s going on?

Apart from hisses, Taehyung still cannot hear a word of your conversation. But when Jungkook moves sideways on his chair, Taehyung knows that his younger co-worker and friend must have hit a wound spot in his own heart.

He wonders whether you refused to answer a question, or admitted something Jungkook didn’t like. What if, considering it didn’t happen already, you told him about every word of the confession Taehyung uttered to you?

Because from the way Jungkook finally leaves his seat, eyes glaring at Taehyung and hands balled into fists, it sure looks like one or two things have escalated. Heavy, fast steps carry Jungkook to the table on the other side of the café, half a dozen pairs of eyes already fixated on the drama that ensues.

You follow him immediately, fingers wrapping around his arms in desperation that he shakes off with ease. And then, he places his palms on Taehyung’s and Yejun’s table, leaning in as he asks, “What the fuck have you said to her?”

“Jungkook, fucking stop,” you plead, but your words go unheard, ignored, tossed away and into the bin.

“We had one goddamn rule and you–”

“Kook,” Taehyung interrupts, calmness lacing his voice while his insides go haywire, “whatever she told you or you concluded… I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Then why do you two keep staring at each other like that?!” Jungkook slams a fist onto the table, and a sharp gasp falls out of your mouth that Taehyung decodes as utter fright. You’re scared that they might hurt each other. So scared of what everything has become. “Why do you keep eyefucking her?”

Rage emerges at the speed of light in Taehyung, and he’s ready to spew belligerent arguments into Jungkook’s heated face before a woman in a knee-length skirt and a white blouse steps between them. Disappointment and disbelief are carved between her eyebrows, and you as well as the men recognise her as the owner of the café, cherished by her on any other day.

But right now, she’s fuming, her red-tinted lips parted before she says, “Whatever the hell you think you’re doing, take it outside.” She points to the entrance, pushing Taehyung and Jungkook further apart. “You’re not doing this here, so get the hell out!”

Silence of the most embarrassing kind fills the cosy room, all chatter dying and guests following the walk of shame that you embark on in the very next second. You hold onto Jungkook’s arm, closely followed by Taehyung and Yejun who hasn’t said a word since the situation aggravated.

A quiet tear dampens the side of your face, and when you enter the multi-faceted light of the sunset, your brain reboots enough for you to begin reassurances and unanswered questions. But Jungkook is still drowning in his own emotions, walking to the corner of the building where Taehyung stands before he tries again, “You owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” Taehyung answers, taking a step back into the shadows of the narrow alleyway.

You lost a friend who’s still dear to you – you didn’t think a fond friendship would backfire like this. Didn’t anticipate that he’d respond to your sadness with a combination of disgust and yearning.

“I don’t know what the hell happened between you two whenever I wasn’t around,” Jungkook begins, his jaw clenching every time he pauses between his words, “but I know it wasn’t nothing.”

“I’m not obliged to say anything, Jungkook,” Taehyung argues, sighing again as he nods towards you, “and if she didn’t tell you, it probably wasn’t worth telling.”

And then, something inside Jungkook snaps eventually. He rushes forwards, pushing Taehyung into a wall to which you and Yejun respond immediately. You don’t know how to make things right, you don’t know how to avoid a fight, but every fibre of your being glows red in alarm, hands reflexively grabbing whatever they can to save your sanity.

“Stop, fuck, Kook, I–” you exclaim over his own yelling, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest when you see Taehyung’s hands lift, too.

“If she didn’t tell me what?” Jungkook snarls through gritted teeth, either incredibly unaware or uncaring of Taehyung’s fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

Yejun grabs Jungkook’s bicep, pulling him away with all her might while you pin Taehyung against the wall, shoving him off your boyfriend. Trembling lips and a tear-soaked face stare back at Taehyung, and you shake your head slowly, nearly begging when you utter, “Don’t…”

Whatever effect you practise on him, he reacts to it immediately. His eyebrows raise before they fall into relaxation again, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips and he backs away carefully. His gaze still lingers on you. Everything inside him shatters at the sight of your shivering body.

When your palms settle on Jungkook’s chest and his eyes wander to you, anger decreasing just slowly, the scene passes in front of Taehyung in a blur. In slow motion. Time only seems to run normally when you reach out for Jungkook’s hand, looking hurt but not surprised when he declines.

“Let’s go home,” Taehyung hears him mutter, and you nod and follow before shooting Yejun, of all people, one last regretful look.

She looks apologetic. Empathic even; as though she’s sorry for something she has nothing to do with. You hope her sentimentality soothes Taehyung’s pain, reaches a core in him that helps him move on from not just today but the whole fiasco you’ve created in the last year. You sincerely hope she lifts at least some of the heavy weight off his shoulders, not knowing how much her presence irks him.

Because right now, he’s not yours to take care of.

Your door falls shut with a thump nearly numbing, hasty steps sounding from the walls. The serene Sunday turns into a TV drama you’re too tired to watch, and you wish you could lay down and blend out the throbbing of your head, the pain of the world.

But Jungkook proves soon enough that there’s no escaping this situation until his mind has processed it, and he plumps down on the couch as he mumbles curses, directed to Taehyung and everything you’ve become. He inhales deeply, clearing his lungs from toxicity before he says, “This is complete bullshit.”

You step closer to his form, his teeth worrying his lower lip and eyes unfocused. Cautiously, you drop your bag on the table and lean back against the wall, throwing your head back while whispering, “It was your idea.”

“I didn’t know it would go wrong like this.”

“It was a damn possibility, and I told you from the beginning,” you comment, fingers rubbing between your eyebrows and your forehead. “It was you who kept saying it’s okay. And now you’re jealous?”

Jealous.

Is that all it is? Is that what it feels like? Because since college, nothing has ever felt this infuriating to him. Where did all the trust go that you both keep priding yourself with?

“He’s obviously in love with you. And it seems like you can’t keep your eyes off him either,” he lists, and you deflate, covering your face with your hands and rubbing in frustration. This needs to end. It needs to end. “I fucking knew he wanted you like this since your birthday. I just wonder how you didn’t until today.”

You open your eyes with an inexplicable feeling written in them. He thinks it’s akin to guilt, utter disappointment, either in you or him or Taehyung or you or everyone around you. Your gaze falls onto the ground and to your feet, and when he realises what your stance and silence mean, he concludes, “You did know.”

Fear-ridden and tears brimming your eyes, you find the courage to nod, but to your surprise, he doesn’t explode again. Instead, you hear his nearly timid voice ask, “Since when?”

If you don’t open up to him now, you never will. You don’t think you’ve loved anyone before the way you love him; his whole being is dripping in pure, unadulterated affection, honesty and trust. To break the chain and string that binds you is nothing you’ll be able to recover from.

And so, you dig your nails into the balls of your palms, a shaky voice answering, “When I went to his place.”

“What happened?”

“We… we slept together. And then he told me…”

A sudden, small laugh erupts out of him, and he rolls his eyes to disguise the sharp sting in his heart before he questions, “Why does the first part affect me less than the second? Why does it not hurt as much as… as knowing how much his feelings fuck you up?” He pauses for a moment, thinking, humming; and then, he continues, “You didn’t tell me he confessed.”

“Because… not even I have processed it yet. It’s too much, everything, Jungkook, I–” And before you know it, your quiet suffering turns into gut-wrenching sobs again, vibrating through your body as you wrap your arms around your chest. “I can’t, I can’t.”

No matter how tiny the pieces of Jungkook’s heart have become; your tears will sober up every sense and light up every nerve in him. And with this, he stands, walking over to you within a nano moment as his fingers brush your waist. Carefully and gently, he seeks your gaze, lifting your face by your chin as he inquires, “Do you still love me?”

“Of course I do,” you sniffle, blinking away the tears, gasping when his fingers dig into your flesh slightly, “I love you with my whole being. But he’s important to me, too, Kook, and I– the situation drives me crazy, and–”

“Can we… can we take a break from this? I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

The last syllables evaporate into thin air, and he places a thumb on your chin, fire blazing in his eyes as he whispers, “Don’t want you to be anyone’s but mine.”

His lips close the distance between you further, and suddenly, his body caves you in, pressing you against the wall.

Taehyung shoves her into the wall in his unlit kitchen roughly, nimble, warm hands pushing up her loose sweater slowly as he kisses hisway down her neck. His touches leave a trail and linger everywhere, his lips plastering kisses onto every inch of bare skin he can find.

The only part of her body they don’t touch is her mouth.

“Tae…” Yejun calls, but he doesn’t register the questioning yet satisfied tone of her voice. “Taehyung.”

He turns her body by one eighty, her tits squished against the wall as he uses her body to fight the pain. Hips rub against her ass, lips brushing her neck and hands lifting her arms above her head. He nibbles at her earlobe with a gentle moan, everything inside him crying and yelling, urging him to fall into old habits.

“What are you… what are you doing?” Yejun asks, trying her best to ignore the goosebumps under her clothes. “Why?”

“I need it,” he admits, no shame or pride left as his free palm dips under her sweater and travels along her sides.

She doesn’t protest – very much what he expected.

And perhaps it’s her willingness to give in so easily, or the soft moan that falls out of her mouth, way too similar to your sighs and gasps when he used to touch you like this. Whatever the trigger, his eyes blow wide, a sudden realisation dawning on him as he lets his past lover go and steps back.

“I– This is unfair to you,” he says as he catches his breath. He places a hand on his waist, staring at the puzzled woman waiting in front of him, attempting to read his body language and mind. “I’m in love with someone else, and I’m hurt and frustrated and… no matter what you did to me, you don’t deserve to be tossed around like that.”

Something that resembles affection and sympathy flickers in Yejun’s eyes, for a moment so brief that Taehyung reckons he must’ve imagined it. Because in the very next second, she pushes herself off the wall and walks over to where he stands near the counter, fingers rubbing his aching eyelids.

His movements only stop when she places a hand on his troubled chest, wondering how long it’ll take to burst his patience as she tries, “I don’t care.”

“...What?”

“I don’t care,” she repeats, a palm settling on his cheeks, unabashed, stubborn, “I want you, in any way. I don’t care what or who you imagine or how you treat me or what you do to me. I don’t.”

And in the heartbeat that passes, his vision sharpens and things become clearer. Absolutely nothing has changed. The amount of self-respect that the woman had he fell in love with years ago has vanished entirely. He doesn’t know if she’ll ever try to fix it, recognise her fucked up behaviour and work towards peace by her own sheer will.

But nothing has changed.

Deep inside, maybe not even Taehyung has.

The different women every week; the tainted sheets; waking up in the morning alone. Yejun finds home where she finds the best male body, devoid of comfort or love. And Taehyung drowns in whatever heals his wounds the fastest, even if just temporarily.

She doesn’t miss him. Doesn’t still want him. She stopped loving him long ago… and that’s okay.

Taehyung nearly wounds his lower lip, rough hands and furrowed eyebrows suggesting his anger before he finally snaps and unleashes it on her – bending her over his counter and burning your face from his mind once again.

The heat of the shower water nearly burns your skin, but it’s nothing compared to Jungkook’s hands on your flesh, scalding hot and merciless.

You push him further into the wall of your shower, brushing back his wet hair before you wrap your arms around his neck. You lean in, smashing your lips against his, your tongue toying with his piercing for a moment before you dip it into his mouth.

His eagerness renders you breathless and the water drowns you, but you can’t focus on the screams of your lungs begging for oxygen. Jungkook’s palms running up and down your sides; his lips chasing yours like a starved man; his hard-on poking your body impatiently – it all stirs your thoughts too much.

He’s still angry.

You recognise it in the movement of his tongue and his bruising grip. In the way he suddenly grips your soaked tresses, throwing your head back with a clenched jaw before he dives in to stain your neck and shoulder in bruises. Teeth nibble at your flesh and your earlobe, and hands settle on your ass cheeks and dig in harshly, pulling you closer.

Jungkook is as good as never this rough. An unknown demonic power courses through his veins, and you let him, because he needs it, and you need it, and his touches seem to undo everything bad and evil that has fallen upon you in the last weeks like an irreversible curse.

“I’m not playing nice tonight,” he whispers through the sound of the running shower.

A hand slaps your ass and grips it again, squeezing once before he leaves his spot at the wall and presses you against it instead, your tits overflowing at your sides. He hisses and cusses, your bottom in his firm grip as his warm breath grazes your ear, his torturously silvery voice pleading – or ordering, “So let me.”

“Please… need y–”

Even if you weren’t uttering words of consent and longing, he’d understand your want from the way your body squirms. Your fingers form tight fists, desperate to clutch anything, frustrated that the wall won’t give you what you wish for. A picture of Taehyung flashes into Jungkook’s mind, and he wonders whether you felt the exact same way you do with him right now.

“Fuck.”

Quiet profanities fall out of his mouth, and he pushes your ass cheeks apart before his fingers sneak their way between your folds. He pushes them apart and slides two digits in without a warning, skipping the teases his skilled hands usually torment you with before he kneels down behind you.

Jungkook doesn’t need to throw commands your way, because you’re pliant without extra steps, spreading your legs carefully on the slippery ground. He breathes against your core as he observes the smooth glide of his fingers in and out of you; above him, you whimper, the side of your face flush against the wall and back arched.

“Pretty girl… hold still for me, yeah?”

“Yes… yes, more, please,” you beg and cry, eyes rolling back into their sockets when you feel the tip of his tongue join his fingers.

Every curl and twist of his digits sends heat to the pit of your stomach, tightening the coil unbearably. He buries his face in your ass and cunt, lapping up your juices and diminishing his thirst with every lick of his tongue. Moans vibrate against and in your pussy, and when your legs show the slightest hint of turning into jelly and buckling, he pulls away and stands.

“What?” you whine, eyes shooting open as he places his palms on your still-clenched fists gently. “I was so close, what the hell did you–”

“Stop talking,” he says, lips tracing your shoulders and pecking the sensitive skin, “I told you I’m not playing nice tonight. Just need to… need to…”

A hand leaves yours before it grips the shower head and pushes it away from where the water rains onto you. You step back and bend forwards, understanding exactly what you need to do. Jungkook’s tattooed fingers slap your pussy twice before they wrap around his painfully erect cock, pumping it for a few seconds until his patience bids him farewell and he slides it into your awaiting heat slowly, carefully.

“Need to know that you’re mine,” he finishes his sentence, and you admire him for his memory, for proving to be sane enough to mutter anything coherent at all. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t,” you shoot immediately.

Jungkook holds your hips firmly, your ass pressed against him as he bottoms out fully; and then, he halts.

His movements stop, his cock buried to the hilt, twitching and throbbing and shifting by a subtle inch before he questions, “Do you love me, princess? You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

“I do,” you confirm breathlessly, goosebumps forming as you stand in the cold corner of the shower, “I am… I am.”

“Do you need anything more?”

You attempt to move your hips, try to fuck yourself on the dick spearing you. He has no intention to move, even less eager to let you do your thing. And so, he holds you steadily, shaking his head as he says, “Uh-uh… patience. Answer my question first.”

“No… no, Kook, I don’t… fuck–”

“My baby,” he coos, leaning forward to plant a harmless kiss on your shoulder. “Tell me what you want.”

Your hand darts behind your back, grazing his thin waist and smooth skin, and with your filled pussy yelling for more, you assure, “You. Just you.”

“Say my name again.”

“Jungkook…” you breathe, feeling him shiver behind you as his lip ring brushes against your skin coldly, “please move.”

His cock jerks inside you again, and you gasp sharply, but he remains in his unmoving, crazying position. Only once, he dares to pull out and push in, but then his hips freeze again, burying his face in the crook of your neck anew. A finger travels up your body and pries your mouth open, settling on your tongue before you close your lips around it and begin sucking softly.

As your breathing calms down, you decide to give into his ministrations, waiting for him to wreck you thoroughly as you hollow your cheeks. “Fuck,” he whispers, pushing in his cock without anything left to push in; and then, you hear him sigh, agitation and yearning lacing the soft sound.

Turning the water off, he pulls out without a warning, continuing to grab a towel from outside the shower to dry you just enough to drag you into your beloved bedroom. Despite the lust buzzing between you, current circumstances colour the atmosphere of the room in a gloomy grey.

You wonder how hard the upcoming conversation will hit you once he’s done with you.

A heavy weight falls onto your body and pins you against the bed, and his lips wander all over your face before he lifts himself off of you slightly and rubs the tip of his cock between your folds. The arousal dripping from your cunt coats his swollen head, undoubtedly ready to suck him in.

“Look at me, baby,” Jungkook mumbles, his fingers tugging at strands of your hair.

You don’t realise that you’ve closed your eyes until they snap open again. His eyebrows drawn close, he stares at you with something akin to worry floating in his gaze, and you take a deep breath before you tell him, “I love you… I love you, Kook.”

“I love you,” he whispers back, littering kisses on your neck so soft that they build the ultimate contrast to his next words. “Gonna fuck every other thought out of your mind. Will fuck you raw, yeah? And if…”

Fingers guide his cock to your entrance and as it finds home between your walls again, you both groan in unison, exhausted and awaiting. The ridges of his length rub against the inside of your pussy, protruding veins relaxing your nerves before he continues, “And if you can still walk after… I’ll fuck you till you can’t, yes?”

“Yes,” you approve, digging your nails into the muscles of his back. His dripping hair tickles your jaw when you move your head to the side, biting into your lower lip as you suppress a moan. “Mmmh, yes, fuck me all night, I don’t… don’t care.”

“Don’t say that. Because… fuck, I might.”

And then, he bends his legs, shifting into a comfortable position to indulge in his quest to fuck you wound. He doesn’t disappoint, a man true to his words – because soon after his first pumps, his hips snap into yours, his movements hard, deep, fast, fervent.

He breathes against your cheeks in a faltering rhythm, his hands hooking under your knee to open you wider, shifting your limbs further up his torso. Holding you close, he penetrates your sensitive spots over and over again, constantly swearing at god knows what.

You scratch his back wound, certain that you’ve painted an absurd picture of red lines. In a moment of utter weakness, you mewl at his harsh thrusts loudly, pleased by the feeling of his pelvis rolling over your bundle of nerves as you exclaim, “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come, please…”

“It’s okay, love,” Jungkook whispers, accelerating his pace, movements staying steady and the same, “do it. Come around me, m-milk my cock, shit.”

With the way he fucks into you, lips crashing onto yours and his body caging you in, no demand ever felt this easy. And you oblige nearly immediately, your thrown back head allowing access for his teeth to dig in, leaving you toppling off the edge and into a land of lust loaded euphoria.

A moan bordering on a hoarse scream fills the quiet room, and Jungkook’s plush, swollen mouth wanders to your temple, kissing you softly. His pace calms, decreasing slowly until he stares at your orgasming expression with fondness unmatched.

A drop of hurt swims at the surface of his affection, and he gulps and blinks once to rid his mind of the pain that’s still to come. He pulls back swiftly, leaving your cunt empty and battered before he gets on his knees. Thick thighs stare back at you, moving closer to your face.

His slick cock still stands proud and tall, aching for relief as he fists it and moves his hand up and down. He twists his wrist and licks his lips, the temptation to keep drilling you strong, but the urge to render you speechless more powerful. Speechless. Literally.

Because you know what he desires as soon as he cocks an eyebrow, inked fingers lifting your head resting on the two pillows as he commands, “Open up.”

And so you do, obliging with a stretched tongue. Jungkook slaps the heaviness of his cock on your drooling wet muscle before he moves to your cheek, repeating the action. At the sight of you taking it all oh-so-pliantly, he smirks, precum leaking onto your tongue – and with a craze swirling in his stare, he says, “Gonna swallow like a good girl, yes?”

Wrapping your lips around his cock, you nod. Wide eyes glance up to him, and he brushes your hair to the side as he pushes in further. You can still taste yourself on him, but the hormones running wildly through your veins blend out everything but his sounds and his gaze.

With each pump of his hips, more saliva drips down your chin. Your tongue works wonders along his length, fingers brushing his balls, and he exhales loudly, almost as if he was holding his breath. As your palm grazes up and down his unoccupied shaft and back to his balls, he licks his lips, saying, “Get ready, baby.”

You’re as ready as you could ever be; and you draw a breath through your nose, moaning around his cock. Broken vocals escape his throat, filling the room with his groans so fucked out that you’d take him again right away if he allowed you to.

“Fuck, fuck… okay, careful, that’s it,” he mutters as you increase your pace.

And before you know it, his head falls back, eyes closing as hot ropes of his seed shoot into the back of your throat. After getting used to the chaos in the last year, your gag reflex remains quiet and faint; so you swallow every little drop until he’s empty.

“Good…” Jungkook breathes before he pulls out, leaning down to press a loving kiss against your lips before he falls onto the mattress next to you. “That was so fucking hot.”

You want to agree, but your throat protests, hoarse and recovering from his force as you place a hand on your sweaty chest. Jungkook pushes his damp hair back, his bicep flexing as he catches his breath.

Closing your eyes, you wait until the spinning of your head stops, gulping before you hear him shift and find words again.

“That was so good,” he repeats; but you don’t fail to recognise the grief in his tone. Seems like today’s events are emerging again, and you’re still not ready to face the battle when he admits, “What if it was the last time?”

“What?”

Your eyelids flutter open and your pulse shoots up, scared that he’s about to do something you hadn’t imagined in your wildest dreams. Never since he took you to a drive-in theatre. Not when he kissed you for the first time; when he told you he loved you; when you finally moved in together.

“What?” you repeat, impatience growing steadily.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, and you can hear the ingenuine smirk on his face, too much of a coward to look at him. “What’s going on? Why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

“You’re not losing me.”

“But, why does it feel like it then?”

“Because it’s in your head. Everything that happened today, and the things you said to him, they’re in your head.”

“Tell me then,” he begins, moving to his side, “it affects you, right? What he said to you. I don’t care whether you slept with him the day you went to his place or not, it’s not like his dick has never touched you before.”

He pauses, blinking and sighing, a hand settling on your tummy, “But he confessed his undying feelings for you or whatever the hell. And it’s doing things with you. Is that in my head, too?”

“Kook,” you call, shaking your head as you argue, “how’d you feel if someone close to you opened up like that?”

“I wouldn’t care, ‘cause I know where my feelings lie. But you…”

“I know about my feelings.”

“Do you, though?” he refutes, his voice so much gentler than in the past few hours when he’d unleashed his anger. “What’s going on with you then, baby?”

The pet name stings in your heart like a violent attack of needles, and you wait until the tremble in your voice and body has relaxed a little before you say, “It was your idea, Jungkook…”

“I know, and I hate myself for reacting like this now, but…”

“Why did you suggest it then? What’s Tae to you?” An unknown annoyance bubbles in your guts before it gives way to surprise; you don’t know why you’re so upset about it. It’s not your fault – it’s no one’s fault. “You were so sure nothing would ever happen. And I never understood why, so what’s the problem now?”

This silences him for a moment. Your quiet breathing forms the only sound in the room, and you await his answer patiently, reckoning that he must be digging deep into his memories to come up with an explanation.

And then, he clears his throat, telling you, “I’m an asshole for thinking Tae wouldn’t wanna deal with feelings and love. With the way he lived, I didn’t think he’d ever… dunno, want someone like this anytime soon.”

Jungkook curses at himself mentally, hating himself for underestimating basic human needs, for doing the mistake of not understanding Taehyung’s inner tumult. You’re not mad at him for it; you’re far from perfect, but you’re so painfully human.

Taehyung.

Jungkook.

You.

You’re so painfully human that your situation aches more; if you’d all dealt with the situation perfectly, without a single error in the system, you might be able to sign up for an award for impeccable people today. But life backfired. Communication went missing.

Why the hell can’t you fast-forward time?

“I don’t know what to tell you,” you say, genuinely as lost and confused as he probably is.

“Listen… my first priority was always to keep you happy. I don’t care in which form your happiness comes as long as it’s there. But for that, I need the truth.”

“The truth about what?”

His next words erupt from the deepest, darkest chambers of his mind, and a nervous storm rumbles in his stomach and heart before he asks, “Have you started feeling for him the way he does for you?”

The brain outage that his question causes renders you speechless for a moment. Less because you don’t know the answer, but because you need to process that someone like Jungkook has actually uttered something like this.

And when you don’t answer, he continues hastily, “It hurts to think you might have. But I’m… not one to tell you how to live your life. I won’t yell at you or drag you down, because neither you nor he or I can control what we feel. And if he’s able to make you happy, I’ll let you go.”

I’ll let you go.

When Jungkook pulls you in and shifts you to your side, too, his eyes meet another misty pair, tears collecting on your waterline as you sniffle. The option to have him let you go alone pierces your heart. It sounds wrong. It won’t happen. How can he just say it like that?

With furrowed eyebrows and a touch on his arm, you inquire, “You want my honest thoughts on it? Because there’s so much to unpack.”

As he whispers an always, you finally spill the truth of the tumult in your head. Confirming or denying his words, explaining thoroughly what this situation means to you and what you want to do with it. He listens attentively, smiling or grimacing at the right times, holding you close until you’ve poured out your heart once and for all.

“You should talk to him. And tell him all that, too,” Jungkook suggests when you finish. You breathe against his warm chest, cuddling into him after he tugs on the blanket at the foot of the bed and wraps you both into it. “It’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Kook,” you whisper through your muffled, quiet sobs.

But he coos at you, fingers brushing your naked back in an attempt to get rid of the heavy blanket of sadness in your room. Lips brush your scalp and your eyes close slowly. Your tears soak his skin until your body grows tired, and before sleep pulls you in, you hear him say one last thing.

“I’ll love you no matter what.”

When Taehyung opens the door to the rooftop, cold wind slaps you across your face before it calms down again. The chill of the evening has subsided just a little, and the closer he guides you to the edge, the more the warm city lights flood you with comfort.

Taehyung’s apartment is a spot neither he nor you want to fill with bad memories anymore. Not that you’re attempting to end the night in a boom, but possibilities never fade, and you won’t risk running into them anymore.

He looks tired when he reaches the edge, burying his hands in the pockets of his soft, dark brown sweater. The brisk wind plays with his bangs, and he keeps shaking them off wordlessly.

“Didn’t think it’d be so hard to finally meet you in person again,” you remark with a smile, nudging his elbow that he responds to with a light chuckle.

The timid hurt and want for distance are apparent in his stance, but you don’t want to beat around the bush anymore. You need this conversation. Need to drop every piece of thought as you did with Jungkook.

“I’m sorry,” he says, smacking his lips, “figured I needed a few days to rest. Alone.”

“I hope they did you well.”

“Eh. I’m alive.”

You nod with a grin, relieved that he isn’t dodging your words or treating you silently, decreasing the awkwardness that already lingers. Courageously, you start, “How’s work going? I heard you guys finally have a new secretary coming soon and–”

“Hey,” he interrupts, shooting you a calm look as he whispers your name, “we both know that’s not what you’re here for. So can we just… get to it?”

He’s right.

There’s no point in waiting anymore.

“When I… when I first met you,” you begin, breathing in the air high above the ground, “you kinda intimidated me.”

He laughs, nodding along as though he understands your feelings all too well. His tongue toys with the inside of his cheek, and your eyes fixate on the movement for a moment before you continue, “But the more time I spent with you, the more you seemed to melt. Like you’re made of this big, fluffy ball of affection that doesn’t show very easily. Except… with me.”

“Well,” Taehyung says, long fingers brushing back his hair, “now you know why.”

“I do, yeah…”

Tiny red and yellow lights move in the distance slowly, blurry until you refocus and recognise the bridge over the city’s river. From here, you can see the entire skyline and small and big spots of your town, so many that you’ve seen and visited with the boys over the course of the last months.

Memories are attached to each of them, and you guess that now, one is in the making on this very rooftop, too.

“Besides Jungkook, no one has ever cared about me the way you did, Tae,” you admit, looking at him with a tilted head. He tries to hold your stare, but it’s difficult. Blinding. “We could’ve said fuck it to all the sex and spent all our days watching movies and laughing about our coffee habits, and you’d still be as important to me as you are now.”

Your words, slow and agonising, clump his throat, and for once, he’s grateful to the fresh, singing wind that dries his eyes before they dare to dampen. He has a hunch where you might be going, but the missing certainty grips his guts and clenches them tight.

“You’re important to me, too. So much.”

Nails dig into your palms as you clench your hands into fists, seeking warmth and courage before you gather yourself and finally spit, “If you’d stayed the intimidating, aggressively handsome man I saw for the first time, I might not…”

A sudden shiver freezes your bones.

Your heart beats in your throat.

Now or never.

“I might not have grown to feel what I’ve started feeling for you.”

When Taehyung’s blown eyes search yours for a hint of mock or ingenuity, you notice that he’s holding his breath just like you are. But he doesn’t smile; and his gaze suggests slight panic, a sort of disbelief. As though he wants your confession to be false, or a prank.

“But…”

That’s it. That’s what he was waiting for.

“I haven’t fallen for you enough to leave Jungkook. Or continue whatever the hell we’re doing,” you explain slowly, nearly as if you’re speaking to a child. Caution. Tenderness. “And… even if I had, I couldn’t ever choose you… I– I wouldn’t be able to be at peace with myself.”

“Because… ‘cause he’s my best friend. And you’re the love of his life.”

“And he’s mine.”

Taehyung’s heart falls into the pit of his stomach like a heavy rock. He always knew; but the effect of your words falls upon him as though the ceiling is crashing over his head. It feels like the end; of the both of you, of a love that never bloomed and touches that will fade.

“We can’t do this to any of us,” you finish, your eyes drifting from his to the ground and then back to the ocean of city lights. “I think I have a feeling of care for you that exceeds friendship. But it’s not enough.”

You sigh and fill your lungs with pleasant air, breathing out the pain and longing and torture clutching your chest. In a moment of dizziness, you contemplate running away, but your feet keep your body chained to your very spot on the rooftop.

“Thank you for your honesty, and…” he mutters, placing his hands on the metal edge that surrounds the rooftop. He wraps his fingers around the pole, his voice still steady. “I agree with you. There’s nowhere you and I can go.”

Relief washes over you as he validates your thoughts, and you give him a gentle smile before you inch closer by a tiny bit. For a few seconds, you bask in the serenity of the evening, ignoring the aching sting in your heart that he must undoubtedly be feeling, too.

But the situation catches up to you soon, a little more daunting than you anticipated, and you nibble at your lips nervously before you assume, “You sound like you made up your mind long ago.”

Taehyung presses his lips into a thin line, and you admire his moles for one last time, intrigued and hypnotised by his mesmerising eyes as you wait. You don’t know if he notices your gaze and what it means. You wonder what he’d think if he did.

He ponders, putting his words into a logical explanation before he finally tells you, “I’ll always be an outsider.” His tongue darts out to wet his dry lower lip, and he shrugs his shoulders with a slight smile. “No matter how much you like me. There’s this crazy strong bond between you and him, and I’ll never have that with you. Even if you decide to love us both…”

…I’ll never be enough like he is.

You understand. He doesn’t need to say it – and he’s right.

A light chuckle falls out of his mouth, his low, soft baritone voice losing on volume when he adds, “I can’t even be close to you anymore, if I’m being honest. You’re not good for me and it hurts, y’know? And I just… I really need to move on.”

The foolery has reached a ridiculous peak – it’s time to extinguish the fire once and for all. He’s burnt to the bone, not a single spot of unscathed skin left. And as you stand there, your presence fading further and further, he finally feels the ointment react and restore his cells.

He just wishes the comfort would stay; not give way to the ache that’s to come.

What a tainted love.

“What about her?”

Your voice pulls him out of the thick mist, and he stares back at you in confusion and parted lips until it clicks and he asks, “Yejun?” You nod, an inexplicable nervousness injecting your eyes, and he shrugs his shoulders, stating, “It was bound to break. Was in shatters already, actually.”

He licks his lips again – you’ll miss that habit, you think. Folding his arms, he sighs, one corner of his mouth rising to a sad smile as he says, “There’s no way I’ll ever give this a chance again. And I told her… she knows as well as I do that we don’t give a shit about each other.”

Taehyung chuckles as though you’ve cracked a joke, but the tone of it is ingenuine. As if he’s laughing about the absurdity of the painful world you live in, stuffing the heartbreak into a drawer he’s reluctant to open.

If you could see the images floating in his heart, you’d know why he finds the situation funny. Because despite everything, something inside him still aches to keep loving you; still wants to keep you and cherish you and tell you what you ignite in him. You’ve ruined him so bad – he wishes he could let you do it longer.

“Not strong enough,” he whispers to himself.

He only realises that it has left his lips when you look at him, innocent eyes confused as you question, “What?”

“I was… was wondering,” he opts for instead, his heartbeat accelerating when a question forms in his mind. He’s not sure if he should ask – but if he doesn’t, he might regret it tomorrow morning. “If it was… fuck...”

“Tae–”

He sniffles, tears finally visible as his eyes blink them away constantly.

Shit.

“If it wasn’t between Jungkook and me,” he finally spits, mind spinning, in dire need of more oxygen, “If it was just me. Would you’ve stayed?”

The molten emotions swimming in your eyes like water give the answer right away. As the wind finally fulfils its job and sends a shiver down his spine, he nods understandingly, smacking his lips once before he says, “Okay.”

Silently, shifting, he reaches out and takes your hand in his. A single drop of tear lands on his thumb, and he shakes his head as if to scold you softly. There’s no reason for your sorrow, his eyes say.

No regret.

He moves closer, dark hair hiding the glimmer of his eyes again as you listen to the song of the bustling city. Up here, you feel disconnected; like the world is breathing in a different type of reality as you.

“You’ll take care of yourself, yeah?” Taehyung asks – or demands – with a genuine, tender smile. Crinkles form around his eyes, and something in his gaze spells new beginnings. “I know I’ll have to apologise to Jungkook myself since I can’t escape that jerk, even if I wanted to.”

You laugh through your fuzzy vision, squeezing his palm just once as you realise that you’ll miss his friendship more than anything you’ve come to feel for him. You don’t want him as your partner – don’t want an eternal life with him. But he is a person endlessly important to you, one you would keep close if it didn’t fuel the fire further.

So you nod.

Things will be okay.

“You too,” you respond, tilting your head in the way he loves as he closes the distance further.

You almost think he’s leaning in to press a final kiss onto your lips, and you’re ready to back away, to finally run away. But instead, his hand lets yours go, settling on the nape of your neck as his plush mouth opts for your forehead instead.

The peck is soft and harmless, so much intensity in his touch that your breathing stills for a moment too long.

And then, it’s over.

Wiping your eyes, you nod one more time, stepping away slowly with your stare fixated on the door that leads off the roof. You carry your body carefully. It feels as though it’s floating.

Stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket, you take a deep breath, ready to let go before you hear him call your name once more.

You glance back, memorising his expression as if you’re never going to see him again. One day, you know you will. Yet, you watch him intently, smiling back at his grin as he leans against the railing and lets you leave with one last goodbye.

“We’ll be okay.”

As the light cold of the spring passes and gives way to the soft blossoming of flowers, the world begins to spin again.

Everything goes on and still moves, despite Taehyung’s certainty that time might not pass anytime soon again. With his blood, the universe has stilled, too, and if clouds didn’t float and stars didn’t sparkle, he’d genuinely believe that his theory rings true.

Jungkook’s desk is littered with paper and files, a frustrated look on his face as he scratches his temple. A pout adorns his features, eyes darting to and fro, trying to figure out which task to tackle next. The ringing of phones and the loud chatter of his boss with his employees do nothing to ease his nerves.

The only comfort of the day arrives in the form of a tall, slender man when he places a palm on Jungkook’s desk, smirking mockingly as he states, “Told you to get those done last week already.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes in annoyance, leaning back in his chair, questioning, “Fuck’s sake, Tae. You realise how stressful last week was?”

“You ask while I am your co-worker at the same company.”

“True. The dark circles under your eyes speak volumes. Raccoon.”

“Shut up. You don’t look any better.”

In a melodious, silvery tone, Jungkook laughs, fingers fiddling with a pen as he says, “I take care of myself.”

“More like, you’re being taken care of.”

Taehyung regrets his own words nearly instantly, his heart falling for a moment as a short span of silence passes. Both men blink at each other, and Jungkook’s gaze lowers with a dropping smile.

“How is she doing?” Taehyung dares asking, gulping right after as his fingertips brush the raw surface of a folder.

“She’s well. Happy.”

Taehyung nods in relief, attempting his best to let thoughts of you dwindle. Jungkook stares up at the older man with an empathic, almost apologetic look. Things have calmed down between them just recently; but it doesn’t mean Taehyung's agony has faded – Jungkook sees it clearly.

“How are you doing, though, Tae?”

Rubbing his sharp jaw with the back of his hand, Taehyung contemplates an answer. But the smoothness of his face delivers the response he’s seeking for. For weeks, he couldn’t even find the strength for mundane, simple tasks such as shaving.

So this must be progress, right?

With confidence in his voice, he says, “Long way to go still. But I’m doing better… it’ll be okay.”

It will be okay.

“It will be,” Jungkook confirms, leaning forwards again with a comforting smile.

He has always shot Taehyung this beam as if to assure him that things will fall into pieces again. It’s the same expression that used to cheer Taehyung up in college. Nothing has changed.

With a light cough, Jungkook clears his throat, rubbing his hands before he grips one of the stacks of paper in front of him. He nearly shoves it into Taehyung’s face, earning a puzzled look before he explains, “The new assistant. Can you bring this to her for me?”

“Why don’t you get off your ass and do it yourself?”

“But… you’re my best friend and I love you very much?”

“Sap,” Taehyung remarks with rolling eyes, grabbing the file from his friend’s hands before he steps away. “And by the way… she’s not that new anymore.”

That’s what he says. In truth, he’s never talked to her. Barely knows her name… what was the first letter again?

As he approaches her desk at the other end of the bright room, she looks up to him, smiling at him before her eyes fall onto the papers.

“Wow. You guys are really working your butts off,” she deduces, pulling the documents closer when Taehyung lets them fall on her work desk.

“We’d suffer a lot more without you, though.”

Her gaze lowers at the subtle compliment, muttering a timid thank you as he watches her intently.

“Try to organise these files by the end of the week. And oh, Mister Jung might want to talk to you later. Something about scheduling a meeting,” Taehyung continues, and she nods slowly, a pretty smile spreading on her face. Curiously, he squints his eyes, pointing at her as he adds a question, “What was your name again?”

“Uh… I don’t think I’ve ever told you my name,” she answers, pushing her nameplate forwards for him to read. “I actually don’t think I’ve ever spoken to you at all.”

Taehyung doesn’t know that she’s noticed him from afar since she began working here. He doesn’t know that something about his mystery and intrigue lures her in and captures her whole being. If he knew, she reckons he might not be talking to her right now.

Because something about him suggests to her that he’s not interested in conversations and dinner dates.

“I’m Kim Taehyung,” he introduces, a large hand stretching towards her.

A gentle palm falls into his, and her grin grows wider as she tells him she knows. Letting her own name fall between them. Something about the air in the room changes when Taehyung notices the friendliness and amity in her remedying eyes; there’s no blazing fire in them.

No flames, no sparks.

Just a serene ocean extinguishing the burning, boiling sensation; calming his nerves; quenching his thirst for sobriety.

LITERALLY, HOW DID SOME OF U GUESS THE ENDING ???? hkjsakjsfd i am so hyped and sad that it’s over y’all, i cried quite a bit while writing :(( thank u so so much for jumping on this rollercoaster with me, it means so freaking much to me <3

i know some questions are still left open, such as.... what happened with tae and yejun after they fucked after the café incidence..... and what happened before the last scene – BUT, i’ll be hosting a drabble day at some point and then i’ll answer all open q’s <3

AND NOW – if u enjoyed it, pleaseeee consider liking, reblogging (so others can see) and sending an ask !!! LOVE U

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