#taejoon au

[gimmethatagustd]

dirty, dirty boy; kth + knj

For Taehyung, the only revenge sweeter than fucking Namjoon's girlfriend behind his back is fucking Namjoon from the back.

Pairing: Taehyung x Namjoon (from Only Here To Sin)

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: Enemies to lovers...?

Content Warning: Emotional manipulation, marijuana, slut shaming, humiliation, virginity kink, hate sex, blow job, anal fingering, anal sex

Word Count: 4,319

A/N: None of this is cute i'll tell you that much, they're both awful lmfao

‣ Main Masterlist

‣ Series Masterlist

“You’re not even just a little bit curious, Joonie?”

Taehyung’s tongue glides along the edge of the rolling paper pinched between his index fingers and thumbs. Little clusters of purple grapes drawn in a cartoonish style are printed onto the thin paper. When he brings his lighter to the twisted tip, the smoke he inhales is sweet. 

“No desire to know why your girl thought getting fucked by me was worth breaking her promise to you?” 

Taehyung leans his head against the back of the couch and watches Namjoon out of the corner of his eye. The other man sits in a chair diagonal from Taehyung’s spot on the couch. He looks odd in Taehyung’s apartment, wearing tortoise-shell geometric glasses and a cream-colored cardigan. Meanwhile, Taehyung lounges in light grey joggers and a tight white t-shirt with the sleeves cuffed around his bulging biceps. 

They’re a funny sight, him and Namjoon. Taehyung is sure of it and can’t help but smirk to himself at the thought of Namjoon’s ex-girlfriend knowing he’s here. He’s sure Namjoon hasn’t mentioned it to her. As far as Taehyung knows, she hasn’t had any communication with Namjoon since she went off to California. 

Taehyung knows they’re both thinking about how the last time Namjoon was here, they were beating the shit out of each other. 

Taehyung also thinks about how he fucked Namjoon’s girl on the couch right where he’s sitting, but Namjoon doesn’t know that. The asshole might have his suspicions, but he can’t ever know for sure. 

That is unless Taehyung tells him. And Taehyung loves it when Namjoon gets all purple in the face, and the veins pop out in his neck. But he also loves knowing what Namjoon doesn’t. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon hisses. His face isn’t quite purple yet, but his neck veins are starting to show. 

Taehyung’s mouth shapes into a lazy rectangular smile. 

“Make me.” 

“You’re so fucking childish.” 

Taehyung snorts. When he exhales, smoke rushes from his nostrils. He leans one elbow on his knee and extends his other arm out to offer Namjoon the grape-flavored joint. 

“I don’t smoke,” Namjoon declines with a wrinkle of his nose. 

It’s ridiculous because Namjoon doesn’t like Taehyung, yet here he is in his apartment, and for what? Their meeting is under the pretense that Taehyung wanted to make amends now that the object of both of their affection is no longer in the picture. The important thing to remember about Kim Taehyung, though, is that he is always honest - you just have to decipher the meaning behind the truths he speaks. 

“There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” Taehyung licks his lips and doesn’t miss how Namjoon follows the action with suspicion in his eyes. “C’mon, these were her favorite. S’good; it’ll make you taste like grape soda.” 

Namjoon doesn’t comment on Taehyung’s implication that anyone would be tasting his mouth for proof, and Taehyung doesn’t expect him to. He waggles the joint, careful not to let any ash hit the floor. 

The funny thing about Namjoon is that he thrives off of controlling the weak people he’s closest to, but he is hopeless when presented with someone just as manipulative as he is. Taehyung figures it’s his nonchalant demeanor that gets Namjoon’s panties in a twist. While Namjoon is high-strung and anxious in his desire to maintain control, Taehyung is more willing to play with his food. He likes feeling around, getting a sense of the situation. He’s willing to be patient, to wait for the opportune moment to get someone right where he wants them. 

And Namjoon is nearly there. 

With a grunt and an eye roll, Namjoon plucks the joint from between Taehyung’s long fingers and sticks it between his lips. 

“Keep your lips tight, but not too tight,” Taehyung guides Namjoon in a soft murmur. “Inhale some air right after you take the hit, but don’t let any of the smoke out. That’s it.” 

Namjoon coughs a few times, but that’s expected of a first-timer. Taehyung schools his face, careful not to have any expression that could be read as condescending. If he wants Namjoon to chill out, he needs to avoid bruising his ego. There will be plenty of opportunities for that later. 

“See? Feels good,” Taehyung reassures when Namjoon passes the joint back. He has to lean across the coffee table to reach it. “Come sit over here; it’s fucking annoying having to lean like that.” 

When Namjoon hesitates, Taehyung draws his lip between his teeth to hold back a grin. 

“What? I don’t bite.” 

“Shut up,” Namjoon immediately counters, but he gets up and sits beside Taehyung on the couch. 

“Relax.” Taehyung blows a smoke ring toward the ceiling. “Ride the high.” 

It’s surprisingly easy to get Namjoon to relax once he has a few more hits. Taehyung has been told he has a calming voice, so perhaps Taehyung’s random ramblings aid in getting Namjoon to feel more comfortable. He’s certainly hesitant at first, but they have enough history to fuel their conversation. It isn’t painless, but it isn’t awful. Taehyung steers clear of girlfriend-talk, instead reminiscing about stupid teachers they’d had in school and getting into an only semi-serious argument over their favorite basketball teams. 

Yes, Taehyung brought Namjoon over to earn his trust because he’s playing the long game, biding his time until he can truly fuck Namjoon over, but he doesn’t expect that trust to develop so quickly. Too quickly. 

“I wish I could talk to her,” Namjoon says with a sigh. He rests his head against the back of the couch and stares at the clouds of smoke they’re blowing into the air. 

“Probably not a good idea, my guy,” Taehyung counters. 

Namjoon turns his head to the side. He and Taehyung are only a few inches apart, close enough that their shoulders almost touch. There’s a strange look on his face that Taehyung can’t decipher because he doesn’t know Namjoon that well. 

“You haven’t reached out to her?” Shock colors Namjoon’s voice and muddles his odd expression. 

“Nope.” Taehyung draws out the word and lets it pop at the end. 

“Why not?” 

He shrugs. 

Namjoon lets out a disgruntled sound like he’s frustrated that Taehyung hasn’t wanted any communication with his ex, but he has. 

“What would be the point? It’s not like we had anything serious going on. Sorry, but it was a good fuck, and that’s it. And I can get a good fuck from plenty of people.” 

It isn’t entirely true, but Taehyung strangles the voice inside his head that tries to point that out to him. 

Sex talk must make Namjoon just as uncomfortable as it had his girlfriend because the guy practically squirms in his seat. It makes Taehyung want to roll his eyes, but he’s trying to be nice right now. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Namjoon sniffs, and if he could lift his nose fully into the air, Taehyung is sure his snooty ass would. 

“I know. It’s cute,” Taehyung says with a crooked grin. He brings the joint to his lips and watches Namjoon through the hazy smoke. “That you’re a virgin.”

It’s Namjoon’s turn to roll his eyes. “Shut the fuck up. Virginities mean nothing.” 

“Don’t they?” 

“It’s a social construct.” 

Taehyung waves a hand once Namjoon takes the joint from him. “That’s all that fancy college talk,” he dismisses. “You’re telling me you don’t care about fucking for the first time? Don’t care who it’s with, when, none of that?” 

Namjoon is overcome with a fit of coughs, so he shakes his head instead of verbally answering.

“Then why did you care so much about you and your girl saving yourselves for marriage?” 

Namjoon sighs like Taehyung is the stupidest person in the world. It isn’t the first time. “That wasn’t about virginities. That was about not being a fucking slut like some people.” 

“Like me,” Taehyung muses. Namjoon doesn’t find it to be as funny. 

“Yes, like you.”

Taehyung hums in understanding, but he doesn’t speak right away. Namjoon is confusing. Abstinence before marriage implies sexual purity, yet he finds virginities to be arbitrary. Wouldn’t that make a person’s body count arbitrary, too? College kids and their stupid, contradictory ideas. Taehyung always knew college wasn’t for him, and this type of pretentious bullshit is exactly why. 

“What counts as sex for you?” Taehyung leans forward to tap the joint against the edge of an ashtray. 

“What do you mean?”

“Y’know, if you’re saving yourself ‘cause you wanna be a prude, how far are you willing to take it? Is a handjob considered sex? Some sloppy toppy? Where’s the line drawn?” 

Namjoon grimaces at Taehyung’s crass language. “I don’t know.” 

Taehyung hums again and rests the now spent joint at the bottom of the ashtray. He and Namjoon aren’t that high; another joint would be needed to really get them to the level he likes to be at. They’re buzzed, relaxed enough that they aren’t at each other’s necks, but Namjoon’s eyes aren’t even red yet. 

Taehyung twists his body to face Namjoon and props his elbow on the back of the couch so he can hold his head in his hand. “So if I sucked you off right now, it wouldn’t count?” 

Namjoon nearly chokes, but Taehyung keeps a straight face. 

“Excuse me?”

“If I sucked you off, it wouldn’t count as sex?”

The neck veins appear now, but Taehyung thinks they aren’t out of anger. He can’t help but smirk when Namjoon’s eyes fall to his lips. 

“It doesn’t matter because you wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” Taehyung lets himself laugh this time because it’s utterly ridiculous how Namjoon goes from calling him a slut to calling him a liar in the same breath. “Like I said before, aren’t you curious why your girlfriend cheated on you with me?” 

It’s the Forbidden Topic, but Taehyung thinks right now is an appropriate time to bring it up. He wants to rile Namjoon up, but now his strategy has evolved slightly. 

Before Namjoon can answer, Taehyung leans forward to rest his hand on Namjoon’s knee. He squeezes it lightly, then drags his palm up the length of Namjoon’s thigh, making sure to curve his fingertips into the inside of his thigh when he squeezes the muscle. 

“Quit it,” Namjoon whispers, but Taehyung notices that he spreads his legs. The movement is almost imperceptible, but it happens. 

“She always said she liked my mouth,” Taehyung ignores Namjoon, kneading his thigh as he speaks. “I could show you what’s so special about it.”

He can see it, the fight in Namjoon’s eyes. It’s in the way he looks at Taehyung’s mouth, then to his hand squeezing his thigh, and then back to his eyes. Eyes that Taehyung knows are dark and full of lust, but mostly mischief because this is a game. Fucking Namjoon’s girlfriend had been a game, too. It just hadn’t ended the way Taehyung wanted or expected it to. 

“C’mon, Joonie,” Taehyung whispers. He slowly moves off the couch and sinks to his knees on the floor between Namjoon’s legs. “You’ve always wanted to shut me up, right?” 

Having Taehyung between his legs must light a fire inside of Namjoon because he blinks a few times as though he’s just woken up. It’s cute how his cheeks flush a deep pink, the color intensifying as Taehyung’s long fingers begin unbuckling his belt. Taehyung wants to ruin him.

“I need you to say it,” Taehyung murmurs. Even though Namjoon willingly lifts his hips, letting Taehyung pull his jeans and underwear down to free his cock, Taehyung needs verbal confirmation. He watches Namjoon with curiosity as he brings his cock to his mouth and flicks the head with the tip of his tongue. Taehyung hasn’t sucked a dick in ages; he’s normally the one choking someone with his cock. Luckily, being out of practice won’t matter in this situation. Namjoon is already folding, and Taehyung has barely done anything. 

Namjoon’s bright eyes narrow into a hateful glare. “Fuck you.” 

“Oh, now we’re gonna do that?” Taehyung teases. “Let’s worry about me sucking you off, and then we can talk about fucking, okay, Joonie?”

He molds his lips around the tip, and Namjoon lets out a deep groan. He throws his head against the back of the couch and digs his fingers into his own thighs to keep himself rigid. 

“Fuck, fine, do it.” 

Taehyung hates when people tell him what to do, but he’ll give Namjoon a pass this time. Slipping the man’s cock down his throat is more interesting than getting into an argument. Funny how life works. He’s way too giddy with the excitement of finally getting at Kim Namjoon, the man he’s hated more than anyone else for nearly a decade. 

Taking it all at once is a mistake, though. Namjoon is more tightly wound than Taehyung had anticipated. The moment his cock hits the back of Taehyung’s throat, Namjoon practically starts crying. Taehyung eases up on his approach, going slower and not applying too much pressure. He doesn’t want to be an asshole about it, he really doesn’t, but the hum he makes around Namjoon’s cock is the closest thing to laughter that he can do with a dick in his mouth. He manages maybe two bobs of his head before he has to pull off. 

“Damn, Namjoon,” he huffs, voice low and thick. He rests his chin on Namjoon’s thigh and slowly drags his hand up his cock, avoiding the tip. “You’re such a virgin. It’s kinda embarrassing; I’m sorry.” 

Namjoon covers his face with his hands, and Taehyung can see where his blunt nails dug half moons in his thighs. “Fuck you, Taehyung.” 

“Mhm, you said that already.” Taehyung runs his tongue up his cock just to be mean, though he’s a bit afraid Namjoon might kick him from the way his body twitches. “You’re not fucking anyone with this pathetic thing.” He squeezes the base of Namjoon’s cock, also to be mean. “I’m not opposed to fucking you, though I thought you didn’t wanna be a slut.” 

Taehyung expects Namjoon to cuss him out even more, but he just stares at Taehyung’s tongue as it licks around the head of his cock. Heat builds in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach, but he does his best to ignore it. He needs to stay focused on Namjoon. Namjoon, who has yet to refuse Taehyung’s offer. 

With a quirk of his eyebrow, Taehyung sits back on his heels. “Unless you want it?” Silences. “Oh, you want it.” Taehyung bites his lip to suppress a grin, but the cockiness bleeds through his tone anyway. Namjoon already looks fucked out, and for once, the little bitch has nothing to say. It’s great; Namjoon deserves a taste of his own fucked up medicine for being such a controlling asshole in his last relationship. 

“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do since you’re too nervous,” Taehyung holds up his hand when Namjoon starts to protest. “I’m going to my room to get a condom and some lube. If you’re still here when I get back, I’m gonna split you open, aight, Joonie?” Taehyung pats Namjoon’s knee and stands up. 

Taehyung is enjoying the fact that he rendered the man speechless a little too much. Part of him wouldn’t be surprised if Namjoon has his dick shoved in his pants and the door swinging behind him by the time Taehyung returns to the living room. It wouldn’t matter either way, he figures as he retrieves the items he needs from his bedroom nightstand. The damage is done regardless; it doesn’t matter how far they take it now. Besides, Taehyung wasn’t going to swallow, and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to let Namjoon nut on his face. He’s got more self-respect than that, wouldn’t let Namjoon have the pleasure. 

To his pleasant surprise, Namjoon is right where Taehyung wants him - sitting pretty with his pants and underwear in a pile on the floor. He’s kept his t-shirt on, but the cardigan is gone and that’s just fine with Taehyung. The important parts are exposed and that’s all he can really ask for. 

“Don’t fucking say anything,” Namjoon hisses but it’s whinier than it is biting. 

Taehyung holds up his hands, one of them clutching the lube and a condom. “My lips are sealed, Joonie baby. Now turn around and get on your hands and knees.” 

Fuck, Taehyung never could have imagined how good saying that would feel. He doesn’t even bother hiding his triumphant grin as he strips down to only his t-shirt, mirroring Namjoon. 

Namjoon looks hot spread out for Taehyung on the couch. Despite his sharp tongue, the man is completely pliant for Taehyung as he massages his lubed-up fingers inside of him, one by one. It doesn’t take long for Taehyung to find Namjoon’s prostate. He pays special attention to the spot for a bit - just long enough for the burning tension to build inside of Namjoon and slowly drive him mad. But eventually, Taehyung steers clear of it despite a whine from the man spread open. 

“No way I’m letting you come now,” Taehyung grunts, using his knees to push Namjoon’s legs wider apart. 

It’s been a while since Taehyung has had to prep someone. Usually, when he and Jungkook fucked, Jungkook did all the work himself. Said he liked to put on a little show for Taehyung, and Taehyung isn’t ever going to deny his best friend anything. 

So maybe he rushes a bit through it, making fingering less like foreplay and more like true preparation - merely a task that must be completed before they can move forward with the night. There’s no need to be sexy or passionate; Taehyung is doing this to make a point. He fucking owns Kim Namjoon’s ass. 

“You ready?” Taehyung huffs, trying his best to sound as unaffected as possible while he rolls the condom on. It’s difficult to keep steady when he slowly slides his cock in between Namjoon’s ass, letting it drag up the curve. He rolls his hips forward to chase the pleasure, even if it’s minimal compared to what he’ll soon have. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Namjoon bites back. 

Rather than respond to his smart-ass comment, Taehyung lines his cock up and pushes through the stubborn muscles - slow enough to not hurt Namjoon too badly but fast enough to knock the air out of him. 

“Oh god,” Namjoon gasps in a voice much higher-pitched than Taehyung would have expected. Taehyung lands a stinging slap on his ass. 

“Don’t fucking clench,” Taehyung commands with a hiss, using both hands to spread Namjoon’s cheeks to better watch the way his cock, shiny with lube, slides further inside him. 

It takes a few shallow thrusts before Namjoon lets out a broken-sounding sob and completely melts into the cushion. His body rocks forward as Taehyung deepens his strokes, pulling almost all the way out to slide back in again, angling his hips to hit Namjoon’s prostate with each stroke. 

Grabbing a fistful of Namjoon’s sandy-blonde hair, Taehyung twists the man’s head to the side and pushes his upper body into the couch. When he squeezes his fist and gives a slight tug, a ragged groan rumbles from Namjoon’s chest. Taehyung already knows this isn’t going to last long. Namjoon is trembling like a leaf, and Taehyung is still going slow by his standards. It’s fine; Taehyung isn’t looking for something drawn out and sensual. He wants to fuck Namjoon hard and fast just because he wants to be able to say that he did. 

“Someone likes to be manhandled, hmm?” Taehyung snickers. Without slowing the pace of his thrusts, he leans forward to press his chest against Namjoon’s back. “Can you do something for me, Joonie?” 

Namjoon bites into his lip so hard the skin turns nearly white. Another tug on his hair almost forces out a moan, but he keeps his teeth clamped down to muffle the sound. 

“Oh, c’mon, Joonie,” Taehyung whispers against his ear. 

Taehyung’s lips brush against the curve of it before he slips his tongue out to tease the tip down to Namjoon’s earlobe. After a few flicks, he sucks it into his mouth, nibbling on it until Namjoon’s lip falls free, and a moan that sounds more like a sob escapes him. The wrecked sound makes Taehyung’s cock twitch inside him. 

“Good boy.” His praise drips poison as he straightens up to kneel between Namjoon’s legs once again. He still bucks into Namjoon, but his thrusts have slowed to a relaxed, steady pace. “Now, are you going to do what I want? It’s a good thing. I promise.” 

Namjoon nods as best as he can with Taehyung’s fingers still digging into his scalp. 

“I want you to touch yourself.” 

Namjoon lets out a whimper, but he obeys. One arm remains raised above his head, hand squeezing the arm of the couch to both ground himself and prevent his head from hitting it when Taehyung thrusts particularly hard. His other arm snakes between his body and the couch cushions. 

Although Taehyung can no longer see Namjoon’s hand, he knows he’s done what he asked by the way his arm starts to shake with the effort of fisting his hand up and down his cock. 

“See? That. Wasn’t. So. Bad.” Taehyung punctuates each word with a brutal thrust. He lifts Namjoon by the hair just enough to slightly elevate him from the cushions. The position allows Namjoon to rest on one elbow and jerk himself off more easily. 

“Y’know, next time, I think we should invite your pretty princess over, don’t you think?” Taehyung usually isn’t the type to talk during sex, but a sick part of him enjoys how Namjoon tenses with… embarrassment? Humiliation? Something, every time Taehyung mentions his ex-girlfriend. “Could fuck her and make you watch.” 

Namjoon lets out a whimper in response, and his eyes squeeze shut.  

“No? Not into that?” Taehyung lets go of his hair to hook his middle and ring fingers into the corner of Namjoon’s mouth. “Of course, you’re a greedy little bitch. You can’t just sit back and watch. That’s fine. Maybe she’d like two cocks up her pussy.” 

Taehyung brings a stinging slap to Namjoon’s ass. By this point, he’s drooling around his fingers. 

“She’s pretty tight, though. Not sure she could handle it.” 

“F-Fuck y-y-ou,” Namjooon stutters. 

Taehyung is sure it’s meant to be biting, but he says it through the most debauched moan once Taehyung slips his fingers out of his mouth that all the statement does is turn Taehyung on more. 

“You’re the only one getting fucked,” he points out with a grin Namjoon can only catch out of the corner of his eye. 

“T-Then, d-do it, you piece of s-shit,” Namjoon says with a shallow breath. 

He’s going to come soon. Taehyung can tell by the way he slumps face-first into the couch. It’s perfect timing because Taehyung’s steady pace is starting to slip. He leans forward and wraps his arm around Namjoon’s waist, batting his hand away from his cock to replace it with his own. 

“Ohh f-fuck.” Namjoon’s moans are muffled by the cushion, but Taehyung’s pressed close enough against him that he can just make out the other man’s pathetic cries. “Taehyung.” 

“C’mon, Joonie, that’s right.” 

Namjoon’s cock is slick with precum. Taehyung pays special attention to the head, squeezing it and rolling his palm over the tip, doing his best to match his hand’s movements with the rhythm of him pounding into Namjoon. His whimpering makes every nerve ending in Taehyung’s body tingle with pleasure; he can practically see himself crackle and pop like a live wire as Namjoon falls apart under him. 

“You gonna come for me, Joonie?” Taehyung digs his teeth into Namjoon’s shoulder just hard enough to make him squirm. “Come all over yourself ‘cause I fuck you so good?” 

When Namjoon doesn’t respond, Taehyung slides his fist down to squeeze the base of his cock. The action makes Namjoon jolt with a cry of frustration. 

“Fuck! Taehyung, fuck y-you-” 

“I wanna hear you say it. Fucking say it, Joonie.” Taehyung pushes Namjoon deeper into the cushions. “Or do you want me to stop?” 

“No!” It’s pathetic the way Namjoon whines. Taehyung has to bite his bottom lip and focus on the pain there to stop himself from coming. 

“Then fucking say it.” 

“Fuck, okay,” Namjoon is panting, and his voice wavers with each brutal thrust. “You fuck me, so, fuck, so good. Ohh, Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, please.” 

It only takes a few pumps before he feels Namjoon shiver and lock up beneath him, and warmth spills into the palm of Taehyung’s hand. 

Knowing that he’s fucked Kim Namjoon, the man he hates most in the world, is a pleasure so deep that only sweet revenge could foster it. But knowing Kim Namjoon had moaned his name when he made him come? It’s enough to simultaneously send Taehyung over the edge and inflate his ego. 

“Shit,” Taehyung curses as he comes. “Fuck.” 

Slumping into Namjoon’s back, Taehyung’s weight pushes him all the way into the couch. They’re sweaty, and the cum on Taehyung’s hand is disgusting; it’s always his least favorite part about fucking guys. It’s messy and sticky, and he doesn’t know what to do aside from smearing his hand on Namjoon’s t-shirt in a poor attempt to clean himself up. 

With a deep breath, Taehyung lifts himself up to a sitting position to allow Namjoon to roll onto his back. His glasses are askew, barely hanging onto his face, and his hair is a mess. He looks utterly wrecked, and Taehyung knows it’s not just his ego telling him that. 

“Good?” He asks with a smirk. Namjoon’s answer won’t matter because they both know the truth. 

[sapphireygg]

Little Pearl you think you’re in Gold #taejoonau

• one shot, 2k

• greek mythology

• enemies to lovers (sort of)

• happy ending

🏹🦢🤍🏛️

[ashanpan]

Chapter 32: Tricked you!

[hopesbluesides]

╰┈➤ . . .

[ravenesse]

Top 12 fanfics of 2023 🎉

Happy new year to everyone! I wanted to use the chance to close off the year that just ended by celebrating the fics that left a big impression on me this year. I gave each of them a special award, depending on what I thought stood out the most in them, as I was reading the stories. Here it goes!

1- Life is (not) a Hallmark Movie by mellicindi

ROMCOM (SVSSS) 🏆

2- Fogged Windows by yuebingzm

SMUT (SVSSS) 🏆

3- The Rightish Reasons by AttilatheHun

ENSEMBLE CAST (BTS) 🏆

4- Miracle of Rare Devives by fringecity

CHARACTERIZATION (BTS) 🏆

5- CompletlyUnexpectedTrueIdentity by Mother of Pearl

WORLDBUILDING (BTS) 🏆

6- speak of the devil (and the devil shall appear) by mad1492, milkandhoney, sophisticatedyet

CONCEPT (HP) 🏆

7- on this shore we are all dead, vol 1. by sapph_of_the_seas

PLOT (HOTD) 🏆

8- I've got 400$ and a really bad idea by Cernunum

HUMOUR (SVSSS) 🏆

9- to be alone with you by taegizzy

ANGST (BTS) 🏆

10- Required Effort by sly___blue

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT (Durarara) 🏆

11- Songs of a Wayfarer by foxflowering

PROSE (SVSSS) 🏆

12- The Nuclear Family by Kloue

ALL-ROUNDER: CHARACTERIZATION/PLOT/PROSE/SMUT (AOT) 🏆

----------

A huge thank you to all the authors and the multiple fandoms I love for making the year so much better with their stories! See you again in 2024!

[delionarkive]

💜Surprise!🐰Love!🐨 Attack!🐻💜

Hi💜 This is my second preview for Love Letters a BTS Fanzine dedicated to portray BTS's love languages

💌Preorders are open now until march 16th:

[yongjae37]

What if layover and indigo were girlfriends?

[lhazeeart]

With or without glasses?

[btschooseafic]

AO3 Recs

Following Recipes is Overrated by YeonAh (Kelxya) [completed]

taehyung x namjoon (taejoon), body swapping, witches, coffee shop au, college au

seokjin helps taehyung make a love potion to give to namjoon. hijinks ensue.

[jiminsass-istant]

How i view all bts duos (crack filled)

(somehow gets crazier as you go down, also minors dni 🚫)

Warning: draft had been sitting for long/written in a sleep deprived state/forgot that tumblr has image limit/will get me cancelled if anyone takes this seriously/this is pure self-indulgence.

Jikook- "We live under each other's skin and there's nothing you can do about it"

Taekook-" We are dude bros bound by shared love for jimin and gaming"

Vmin- "we'll roleplay every AU possible so you have more prompts for ao3"

Minimoni- "he's cute because he's small"+" he's cute because he's big"

Sope- "He makes me wanna be a better man" + (unpopular opinion but sope would be a great sun and moon duo too)

Yoonmin- "We mostly fight, but if you heard the most heart-clenching compliment slip in, pretend you never heard it."

Jihope- "We are each other's light in the dark" (pink and purple lights to be specific)

Namkook- "He doesn't know i have his shrine at home" (jk pov)+" He doesn't know I've legally adopted him" (rm pov)

Taejin- "We are individually pretty hetero, but together we are pretty gay"

Jinkook - "He's my brother, so I can beat the shit out of him, and I am the only one who can."

Jinmin - "Come here my precious, I'll laugh at all your jokes and cuddle you"

2seok- "We can single handedly bring about world peace just by basking in each other's presence"

Yoonjin- "You're older, so you'll have to baby me" (yoongi pov) + "You are only 3 months older, I can drop the honorifics "( also yoongi POV)

Taegi - "I'll smother you with love till you love me back" (Tae POV) + "That's enough!!! Ffs" *still holding hands* (yoongi POV) - <My 3rd fav ship, btw>

Namgi - "What happened in the studio that late night, stays in the studio" + "anyway, we've known each other for 13 years"(yoongi pov) +"hyung, can we talk about that night-" (rm) "DID I MENTION 13 YEARS??"(yoongi)

Yoonkook- Lovers in HYYH but died and reborn as father son duo in next life.

OR

"I would produce your entire album if sc00ter wasn't in the way"

OR

"He doesn't know I've legally adopted him" (because namgi legal husbands)

Namseok- "Our relationship is not for the cameras. You can probably tell by the way I BAWLED after jhope enlisted" (rm pov)

Namjin- "He lets me practice my pick up lines on him, if he gets a little flustered, it's not my faul- JIMIN STOP WITH THE SMOOCH SOUNDS"

Hopekook- Kangaroo(hobi) and the baby(jk) in its pouch

Taejoon- Fanboy turned boyfriend (tae)

Vope- "Was the kiss good? Was my dance good? Have i been a good boy?"(tae pov) +"I raised him well (as my perfect sub)" (hobi pov)

This is me btw, if you even care:

[peachjagiya]

A fun question

Which fictional trope (e.g. enemy to lover, bestfriend to lover, love at first sight, newly arranged married etc.) would suit all BTS ships?

Oh fun! I'm gonna out myself as a fanfic writer now 👀

I'm just going to write the first thing that comes to mind. No thoughts just vibes.

Namjin: established relationship 😂

Namgi: love/hate

Namseok: accidental marriage

Minimoni: College AU.

Taejoon: ... Fluff

Namkook: love at first sight

Yoonjin: cozy domestic

2seok: why did my brain immediately think "they have a kink in common" 😭

Jinmin: some kind of "five times they didn't kiss and one time they did" friends to lovers to friends.

Taejin: angels/demons AU.

Jinkook: chaos. Enemies to enemies.

Sope: grumpy-sunshine?

Yoonmin: long term pining; slow burn

Taegi: secretly soft.

Yoonkook: angst! HYYH.

Hopemin: Save The Last Dance For Me AU.

VHope: spin the bottle

Hopekook: High school AU.

Vmin: soulmates.

Jikook: ..... Let's be mature about it and say temporary love spell.

Taekook: friends to lovers; drunken confession; secret romance; canon-compliant 😏

Well this was fun. And it really is just for fun, ok?

Thanks anon. 💜

[gimmethatagustd]

like a river | kth + myg + knj

As the only omega professor in the Department of Philosophy at Seoul National University, Yoongi is accustomed to dealing with pretentious alphas who think the world revolves around knots.

Pairing: Taehyung x Yoongi x Namjoon

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: College professors, omegaverse, smut

Word Count: 3,761

Content Warning: Light Dom/sub, heat sex, knotting, anal sex, blow jobs, facefucking, threesome, libraries shouldn't be disrespected by horny professors but alas, I feel sorry for their students

A/N: Yo, writing threesomes is so fucking hard and I never wanna do it ever again (I will, but, god, will I hate it). Also shout out to this tweet.

Soundtrack: Bishop Briggs - River

Yoongi’s heat comes early.

He’s flipping the page of a thick, leatherbound textbook in the University’s library basement, where the archives are when his damp fingers stick to the page. Sweat beads along his hairline, breaking up the gel that once held his hair out of his face and letting a few dark strands fall across his forehead and into his eyes.

Slowly, Yoongi closes the book and parts the space on the shelf where he needs to slide it back with the other alphabetized philosophers’ texts. It’s been nearly three hours since Yoongi visited the archives with his fellow professors to collaborate on changes to the next academic year’s curriculum. They all need to come to a consensus on which books to include in the senior year capstone project syllabus. It’s hard enough to find an agreement in a department of fifteen alphas, two betas, and one omega without going into heat in the middle of their research.

It’s fine. Yoongi is in his mid-thirties; he has dealt with unexpected heats before.

None were as sudden as this, though, and none came at such an inconvenient time.

Yoongi hears a few of his colleagues bid their goodbyes from the opposite side of the room as they exit to take the stairs to the ground floor. Three hours is too long; looking at his phone, Yoongi realizes the library closed nearly an hour ago. Perhaps he’ll get lucky, and none of his colleagues will be here by the time he finishes packing his things.

Yoongi is unsteady when he walks down the aisle; his body feels heavy, and his muscles are weak. His heat shouldn’t have hit him so suddenly. Yoongi meticulously tracks his heats to accurately predict the exact time of day they’ll hit. He doesn’t believe in suppressants, thinks they’re utter bullshit, just one more way for alphas to control omegas’ lives. He lives naturally and keeps a log religiously. There’s no reason for this to be happening.

By the time Yoongi reaches the corner of the room where he had left his belongings on one of the study desks, his dress shirt is soaked with sweat. Dark red splotches are at his armpits, and a short, thin line at his sternum along the shirt buttons.

Thankfully, packing takes little time. Yoongi shoves his laptop and a few books into his worn leather satchel and slips it over his shoulder. His knuckles turn white from how tightly he squeezes the strap, and he drags his fingers along the wall to steady himself as he walks the perimeter of the room. The book titles and hangul headings on each aisle blur from the burn of sweat falling into his eyes. Using the back of one hand, Yoongi wipes the sweat from his forehead and exhales slowly through puckered lips.

The exit is five exhales away. Yoongi makes it to three exhales before he chokes on the next one and is inundated by the earthy scent of cedarwood and cardamom that leaves a bitter aftertaste in the back of his throat.

"Oh! I didn't realize anyone else was still here. I don't think I've stayed in the library this long since—Um, are you okay, sunbaenim?"

The alpha sitting at a table to the right of the exit is one Yoongi has done his best to avoid the entirety of the academic year, not by any fault of the man himself. Taehyung is one of the few tolerable alpha professors in the department. Young and fresh out of graduate school, he's promising as a professor despite his reviews being skewed in his favor because most of the student body has a crush on him. Yoongi may as well be a blushing college student because Taehyung's big brown eyes and sharp jawline make him want to stay as far away from Taehyung as possible.

"Y-Yes, just, uh," Yoongi fumbles over his swollen tongue, which feels dry in his mouth. "I'm just turning in for the night."

He prays that Taehyung lets him be. The exit is right there. All Yoongi needs to do is take a few more steps past the table, and he'll have his sweaty hand wrapped around the doorknob. The longer he stands here with Taehyung scrutinizing him, the less time he'll have to get home before he turns into a pathetic, sex-crazed monster.

Usually sweet, Yoongi's citrus scent turns bitter with his distress when he remembers he didn't drive to work today. He'll have to use public transportation to get home. No matter how strongly Yoongi rejects the sexist narrative that omegas are more vulnerable than alphas and betas, even he can't deny how unfavorable it would be to get on the train at night at the onset of his heat with strangers.

"Sunbaenim…" Taehyung takes a step toward Yoongi, who then takes a step backward. "You… your heat."

Taehyung audibly inhales, and shame creeps up Yoongi's chest, turning his neck and cheeks bright red, burning him like wildfire because the look on Taehyung's face makes him slick.

"It's fine," Yoongi whispers, and it most certainly is not fine.

When his thighs hit the edge of a table, he lets go of his satchel's strap to reach behind him. In his nervousness, he backs himself across the aisle from Taehyung's table, though Taehyung follows him with timid steps and rounded eyes.

"I don't mean to be rude, sunbaenim, but I don't think it's safe for you to go alone in this state."

Taehyung says more, but Yoongi doesn't pay attention. Taehyung's voice warbles and morphs into the muffled sound of someone trying to speak underwater, and all Yoongi can do is hone in on how pretty Taehyung's fingers are when he glides them through his caramel hair and how veiny his forearms get when he folds the sleeves of his white buttoned dress shirt to talk with his hands. Unlike Yoongi, who is short and soft around the edges and along his creases, Taehyung is tall and lean. His shoulders are broad and his hands large, and the swell of his biceps against the tight sleeves of his buttoned shirt is too much for Yoongi to look at.

Yoongi hates alphas. He hates how narcissistic they are and how they dominate every space they're in. Even now, he hates how Taehyung's scent is comforting and tantalizing, coaxing Yoongi's omega out of him and triggering his heat to barrel into him with the weight of a freight train.

Most of all, Yoongi hates the person his biology turns him into when he's around a pretty, big alpha like Taehyung.

"Just help me, okay?" Yoongi snaps from the exhausting headache building from the blood pounding in his skull.

"Of course, sunbaenim." Taehyung's eyebrows shoot up, but he's gentle as he grabs the strap of Yoongi's satchel and takes it off to hold it himself. "I'll drive you home. I just need to stop by my office first. Do you think you can—"

"No," Yoongi whines and hates himself for it, but he can't stop himself.

"No, you can't wait? Or—"

“Help me, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung's face maintains its innocent look of concern, but his ears turn bright red once he breathes in the ripe scent of Yoongi's slick, and the meaning of Yoongi's demand washes over him.

"You want alpha to help you?" Taehyung asks quietly, and Yoongi feels the deep rumble of Taehyung's voice reverberate violently through his body, weakening his knees. 

Yoongi's heat isn't forcing him to whimper a tiny "yes"; his attraction to Taehyung goes far beyond animalistic instinct. Apparently, Taehyung's does, as well.

"Gonna take my knot, omega?" Taehyung runs his long fingers through Yoongi's sweaty hair, gathering it in a makeshift ponytail and tugging Yoongi's head backward so he's forced to look into Taehyung's eyes. "Is that what'll make you feel better? Is an alpha's knot going to fix you?"

Taehyung's condescending tone, paired with his sudden harsh grip, makes Yoongi gasp. Though Yoongi's heat makes him lightheaded and lethargic, he has enough energy and wits about him to be irritated by Taehyung's comments.

"I don't need a knot," Yoongi demands through gritted teeth when Taehyung tightens his grip on his silky hair. He and Taehyung both hear how unconvincing he sounds, especially when Taehyung reaches around to squeeze his ass, and Yoongi instinctually presses back against his hands.

"It's okay, sunbaenim," Taehyung cradles Yoongi's rigid jaw in his palm. With gentle strokes, he traces Yoongi's lips with his thumb, pressing on the center of his bottom lip and pulling down. "All omegas need a knot. You were made for it."

Yoongi knows Taehyung is wrong. He wasn't made for anything or anyone but himself. That's the problem with alphas; they think the world revolves around their knots. Yoongi has taken very few knots in his life and found that relationships with betas and other omegas are far more fulfilling.

He doesn't need a knot. He doesn't.

But then one of Taehyung's hands squeezes Yoongi's face so he can angle Yoongi's head to the side as he licks up a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. His other hand unzips his slacks, and Yoongi realizes he's got Taehyung's shirt twisted in his fists to pull their bodies together.

Maybe Yoongi does. He feels Taehyung's cock, warm and hard, against the inside of his thigh, and maybe he needs a knot.

"Are you going to be a good little omega for me, sunbaenim?" Taehyung asks, teeth clenching at Yoongi's bobbing throat.

More slick leaks from between Yoongi's cheeks, and Taehyung makes a show out of shoving his hand in the back of Yoongi's slacks to glide his fingers through it. Taehyung laughs when Yoongi trembles as he presses against his rim, just enough to tease but not enough to push through.

"You need to use your words, little omega. Be good for alpha, and he'll be good to you."

Despite his harsh demeanor, Taehyung's sparkling eyes look soft, and his grip on Yoongi's body is firm but gentle.

"I'll be good," Yoongi says with a sharp intake of air when Taehyung abruptly yanks Yoongi's pants down his thighs.

It doesn't matter that they're still on campus, still at work. Yoongi lets Taehyung help him out of his clothes, tossing them onto the floor with his satchel. He's very aware of the fact that Taehyung keeps his clothes on and only unzips his pants to pull his cock out. It makes Yoongi feel dirty and vulnerable, being the only one naked. If someone were to walk in on them, Taehyung could easily cover himself and leave, whereas Yoongi would be left scrambling. Taehyung could slip away, and Yoongi would lose his job.

Yoongi hates alphas and their need to hoard power, but he turns into a quivering mess when Taehyung grabs him by the back of the head and forces him to bend over the table with his cheek against the cold surface.

"You'll be good and stay quiet, won't you?" Taehyung asks as he dips his thumbs into Yoongi's hole and pulls, groaning at how wet and pliant the muscles are.

Yoongi says yes, but he doesn't mean it. There's no way for him to regulate himself when Taehyung slowly eases his cock inside him.

The moment the thick head pushes through his rim, Yoongi's mind goes blank. He's so worked up that his heat is all-consuming by this point. Yoongi knows he's babbling as Taehyung thrusts into him because Taehyung shoves his middle and ring fingers into Yoongi's mouth. He presses down on Yoongi's tongue, making drool gather at the corners of his mouth but effectively keeping him quiet since all Yoongi can do is moan around his fingers.

"That's it, omega, suck on them and keep quiet," Taehyung murmurs as Yoongi wraps his lips around his fingers.

Taehyung gets in a few deep, long thrusts when the door leading to the stairs opens.

Yoongi, whose eyes had been squeezed shut with pleasure, immediately opens them and tries to get up, but Taehyung keeps him pressed against the table. Panic tickles the edges of his mind, but he doesn't really feel it like he should, can't truly grasp it when Taehyung's cock is fat and warm and so close to filling Yoongi up with his knot.

For a moment, Taehyung's hips slow to a stop. Not driven by hormones like Yoongi, Taehyung likely feels the panic of getting caught hit him full-force. That is until he realizes who has joined them.

Yoongi would recognize the other alpha's scent anywhere for how rich and creamy it smells, like freshly made chocolate, still warm. A fellow professor who has also crossed Yoongi's mind more than once, Namjoon is slightly more tolerable than Taehyung, mainly because his alpha arrogance is at least rooted partially in how much of a confirmed genius he is. Not that Yoongi cares about any of that with a dick up his ass. He's still trying not to panic. Although his heat loosens him up a bit and helps him let go of some of his inhibitions about sex, it's still difficult to completely accept that this is natural. Yoongi doesn't want to succumb to the need for an alpha's knot, but he knows he should give in to the instinct — especially if he has someone as handsome and giving as Taehyung to help him through it, if only for the night.

And then there's Namjoon, poor Namjoon, with his mouth hanging open and his tan cheeks turning rosy.

"Holy shit," Namjoon says weakly, his dark eyes flitting between Taehyung and Yoongi. "I came back because I thought I left my wallet. I tried calling you, Tae, um…"

Namjoon trails off, and Yoongi is sure they all think there's no point in explaining anything. Namjoon is smart. He can pick up on Yoongi's scent and understand why he's sweaty and slicked up, and Taehyung's fingers are shoved down his throat.

"Our sunbaenim needed some help." Taehyung's explanation is as half-assed as Namjoon's, and it's still too much.

Yoongi feels silly, pressed to the table with nothing to say and no way to say it anyway, even if he wants to. If it wasn't for Namjoon's embarrassment, Yoongi would be mortified to be caught in this position.

"You're not going to say anything to anyone, are you, hyung?" Taehyung asks with a cocked eyebrow. It doesn't look threatening, but it isn't the usually friendly demeanor Taehyung has.

Namjoon quickly shakes his head. "No, no, of course not..."

To Namjoon, who is barely keeping himself together, Taehyung's behavior probably does seem threatening. His eyes keep falling to where Taehyung and Yoongi are connected, no matter how many times he tries to keep his eyes on their faces — on Taehyung's face because Yoongi's face looks too pornographic, twisted in pleasure despite how nervous he is.

When Taehyung notices, he gives a little thrust, gently grinding against Yoongi's ass. Yoongi can't tell if he's purposefully grinding into his prostate, but he hits it every time, making Yoongi moan. He tries to grab the edge of the table to have something to hold onto, but his arms aren't long enough to reach. Taehyung jostles him forward, then eases him back, just to snap his hips into him again.

Yoongi should do something. He feels like he should, or at least say something. Anything at all. But he slowly realizes that he doesn’t want to. He hasn’t been with an alpha in so long that he’s wondering if he simply forgot how good it feels to be cared for and used. Taehyung fucks Yoongi because he feels good, so pliant and wet and a whimpering mess lying there to be taken, but he’s also doing it to make Yoongi feel better, to take the edge off his heat so Yoongi can get home safely without attracting unwanted attention or hurting his omega’s feelings by ignoring his instinct. The situation is mutually beneficial in that way; if Yoongi intellectualizes the whole thing, he can feel better about being fucked in the library by his younger coworker in front of another younger coworker.

The entire situation is insane, and all Yoongi can do is drool over it.

When Taehyung finally removes his fingers from Yoongi’s mouth, it isn’t to relieve him but to ask him a question.

“Sunbaenim, I feel bad for my hyung,” Taehyung says gently as he rubs his palms up and down Yoongi’s back. "He’s so hard.”

Still standing at the door, Namjoon inhales sharply, loud enough for Yoongi to notice it. When Yoongi looks, Taehyung’s observation is confirmed, though Yoongi isn’t surprised. What kind of an alpha would Namjoon be if he wasn’t turned on by what he sees? The erotic scent of heat sex alone would be enough to make any alpha feel the need to pop a knot.

“Oh,” Yoongi sighs, dragging his eyes from the apparent bulge in Namjoon’s pants to his narrowed eyes.

“Mhm. Don’t you think you should do something about that? Since it’s your fault?”

Yoongi tries to crane his head around to look at Taehyung, shocked by his question — accusation.

There's still a part of Yoongi that wants to tell Taehyung and Namjoon to fuck off because why is any of this his fault? It's not his fault his heat showed up early and unannounced. It's not his fault that Namjoon is horny.

Unfortunately, there's the natural side of him, the side that isn't burdened by social norms, gender roles, philosophy, and all the other bullshit in the manmade world. The natural, instinctual side of Yoongi wants to jump at the opportunity to pleasure and be pleasured.

So when Taehyung has Yoongi turn around to lie on the table on his back, he does so without hesitation. Once Namjoon approaches the side of the table next to Yoongi's face and follows Taehyung's lead by taking his cock out, Yoongi eagerly opens his mouth with Taehyung's encouragement.

"Such a good omega," Taehyung praises as he caresses Yoongi's face to brush his hair back as Namjoon feeds him his cock.

Namjoon lets his head fall back as Yoongi takes more into his mouth. He can't move the way he wants to, can only rock back and forth when Taehyung begins fucking him again, each snap of his hips jostling Yoongi and making Namjoon's cock slip out of his mouth.

It's overwhelming when Namjoon grabs Yoongi's head and begins to fuck his mouth, alternating how he thrusts into his throat with the frequency of Taehyung fucking his ass. They establish a rhythm, playing Yoongi like some sacred instrument only they know, spending the time to learn to do it properly. 

Yoongi can hardly breathe. Taehyung pounds into him so hard that Yoongi feels like he fucks the air right out of his chest. It gets worse as Taehyung's thrusts become more aggressive, and he begins chasing his climax. When Namjoon's cock hits the back of Yoongi's throat, he drools and gags violently enough that it hurts, but his omega likes it.

"Shh, just, fuck, just a little more," Namjoon moans. He fists Yoongi's hair and squeezes, keeping a tight grip on him when his thrusts become more shallow. "Shit, I'm not gonna last."

"Knot his mouth."

Yoongi's eyes fly open, but he can't look at Taehyung; he can only hear his quiet laughter. Alphas and their fucking knots.

Yoongi hates them. He hates how good they feel, like now, when he can tell that Taehyung is close because his knot is starting to catch at Yoongi's rim. It burns as it grows, expanding so much that Yoongi wonders if his body can genuinely take it if maybe he's not deep enough in his heat for this — and then Namjoon reaches over to pump Yoongi's cock as he and Taehyung keep fucking him.

Their rhythm gets thrown off and messy, first when Taehyung cums with a final thrust that forces his knot inside and then when he makes Yoongi cum immediately after.

Rather than follow suit in the same manner, Namjoon pulls out to spill onto Yoongi's face, keeping one hand squeezed around his knot and the other quickly fisting over his shaft until there's nothing left, all of his cum painted across Yoongi's lips and the side of his cheek.

“Fuck,” Namjoon sighs and lets his body slump into one of the chairs surrounding the table, “Holy fuck.”

Namjoon shakes his head with a laugh of disbelief, and Yoongi hates how cute he finds his dopey, dimpled, fucked out smile to be.

Yoongi slowly turns his head until he’s staring up at the ceiling, and his neck is no longer twisted to the side. It hurts to swallow, but he’s terribly surprised by how satiated he feels, so content that he almost feels sleepy — despite Namjoon’s cum on his face, Taehyung’s in his ass, and his own all over his stomach and chest.

Disgusting. Yoongi has never been so sticky and wet in his entire life, and he likes it.

Taehyung looks just as messy, if not worse, than Namjoon, though the two of them combined can’t beat out Yoongi’s current state. Taehyung’s bangs are plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his shirt is tucked inward to avoid getting cum and slick all over the bottom half. Yoongi doesn’t even want to know what kind of story his reflection would tell him if he looked at his appearance. All he can hope is that he didn’t get bodily fluids on his satchel or the books they need for the semester.

At least Namjoon and Taehyung have the decency to clean Yoongi up. It isn’t the best job, considering all they have to work with are the paper towels from the shotty little bathroom in the back corner of the archives, but it’s better than sacrificing someone’s clothes to clean up the mess.

“Thank you,” Yoongi is quiet with his gratitude. The embarrassment and panic he missed before are now hitting him since the fogginess in his brain from his heat has subsided, at least for a little bit. “I, um, don’t really know what to say…”

“You don’t have to thank us, Yoongi sunbaenim.” Namjoon smiles sweetly, and Taehyung nods in agreement.

“Yeah, we just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It’s a rather extreme way of doing so, but Yoongi did ask for it.

“I still don’t know where my wallet is, though…” Namjoon points out sadly, and Yoongi can’t help but bark a hoarse laugh.

“I can’t fucking stand alphas.”

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap @likecrazy22 @remmykinsff @jaemayy (idk if i can tag you, jae mayy friend!)

[igwb]

Hyung.

hyung (n.) : more than just a title, hyung signifies a bond of trust, guidance, and often deep emotional connection. it can represent brotherhood by blood or by choice, carrying the weight of both protection and admiration.

pairing: kim namjoon x kim taehyung (hyyh!nj x hyyh!th)

genre: bromance au, angst

summary: living at the very bottom of the unforgiving society, they could only cling to fragile dreams of a better future. hope became a distant comfort, something they held onto even as they knew the odds were stacked against them. denial wrapped around them like a thick fog, masking the harsh reality of their lives. they saw glimpses of what a life with a future that didn’t feel like a constant struggles but that was never meant for them. not for people like kim namjoon and kim taehyung. the moment they were born, their fates were sealed. now, all they could do was wait for the inevitable.

word count: 7K (one shot)

warnings: angst, mentions of; depression, mental health, family & money issues, violence, child abuse, alcoholism, blood, death […] hyyh storyline; taejoon focused ♡ and no romance/shipping (romance here is only bromance!)

Lately, Taehyung had been having terrible nightmares—visions of everything and everyone he loved dying in horrific ways. In his dreams, he tried to reach them, to save them, but he was always stuck. Helpless. Forced to watch as they died over and over again. Each death felt crueler than the last.

Sometimes, it was his older sister, her agony unbearable as she locked eyes with him—the same brown eyes they shared—before the life drained out of her. Sometimes, it was his mother, struck by a car, crushed beneath something heavy, gone in an instant. And sometimes, it was Namjoon, his best friend.

Tonight, it was Namjoon again. Dying in ways so gruesome, so unthinkable, that Taehyung couldn’t even speak them aloud. The images clung to him, the weight of them suffocating. The worst part? Knowing that his own mind had created them. That thought alone made him feel sick.

He opened his eyes, blinking against the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through his window. His room—a monochrome space he never had the heart to decorate—felt cold, distant, almost unfamiliar. He preferred it that way.

With a shaky breath, he reached for his phone, his fingers dialing a number he knew by heart. Namjoon had made him memorize it, insisting that if anything ever happened, he should call right away. No hesitation. He had always been aware of Taehyung’s bad habit of staying out late, getting himself into trouble.

The line barely rang twice before a groggy voice answered, laced with sleep.

“Hyung,” Taehyung breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He could hear Namjoon shifting on the other end, probably sitting up, already alert despite the abrupt wake-up call.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked, his chest tightening as the images from his nightmare flashed through his mind. He needed to hear it—to be sure. The vision of Namjoon dying, over and over again, was still too vivid, too real.

“Hyung, are you okay?” he asked again, his voice quieter this time, laced with unease.

“I’m okay,” the older boy assured, his voice now steadier, more confident—like he didn’t want to leave even a sliver of doubt in Taehyung’s mind. “I’m okay,” he repeated, softer this time, almost like a mantra. “Go back to sleep now.”

Taehyung mumbled an apology for waking him before promising that he would try to sleep, and with that, Namjoon ended the call. But it was too late. Sleep had already slipped away from him.

With a quiet sigh, he sat up in bed and glanced at his phone screen—4 AM. It was always 4 AM. Every time Taehyung had one of his nightmares, it was at this hour. And every time, Namjoon found himself unable to sleep afterward.

Running a hand through his hair, he leaned back against the headboard, staring at the faint patterns of moonlight on the ceiling. He wondered what kind of nightmare had shaken Taehyung so badly this time—what terrible images his mind had forced him to endure. But he didn’t ask. Taehyung never talked about them, and Namjoon never pushed.

All he could do was be there when the call came.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep—not that it mattered. His alarm would go off in an hour anyway.

He had to get up for work. A stupid, miserable job at the gas station that barely paid enough to survive. But when you grow up in poverty, you take whatever money you can get without complaint. You swallow your pride, keep your head down, and work. If it meant survival, you’d even drop to your knees and thank your boss, knowing full well that by the end of the week, there’d be nothing left.

Namjoon was the sole provider for his family. His father was terribly ill, and the medical bills kept piling up. His mother was so consumed by despair that some days, she could barely stand.

He never even considered asking his younger brother to work. That responsibility fell on him alone—the only able man in the house. It wasn’t a choice; it was simply what had to be done.

Namjoon never complained about his situation. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that his father had fallen ill. How could he be angry at a man who was fighting for his life every single day? And he couldn’t blame his mother either—if he were in her place, watching the person he loved slowly slip away, he knew he would break just the same.

He couldn’t be angry at his younger brother, either. Even though he was only a year younger, he didn’t have the shoulders to bear this weight. He was unpredictable, restless—desperate to escape. Unlike Namjoon, he let his anger consume him. And for him, escape meant trouble. It meant reckless choices, nights spent in jail, and bail money they didn’t have.

Namjoon’s younger brother was far too similar to Taehyung for his own good—same age, same recklessness. Sometimes, it felt like he had two younger brothers to worry about. But he couldn’t blame Taehyung either; his life hadn’t been any easier.

Taehyung wasn’t the type to keep things to himself. He talked a lot, never hiding his struggles. And his biggest struggle had always been his father.

There was a time when Taehyung’s family had been happy—when he lived with both his parents and his older sister in a home filled with warmth. But that life shattered the moment his father found comfort in alcohol. The addiction consumed him quickly, and with it came a violent temper that only grew worse each day.

The two women in the family—his mother and sister—chose to escape for their own safety, leaving Taehyung behind. Not because they wanted to, but because he refused to go. He couldn’t leave his father. Someone had to take care of him, even if it meant enduring his anger, no matter how brutal it became.

Namjoon and Taehyung both knew they had been forced to grow up faster than they were supposed to. It was never a choice—it was simply their fate.

When Namjoon turned eighteen, he realized his innocence had slipped away without him even noticing. The lollipops he used to absentmindedly suck on had been replaced by cigarettes, the sweet taste of childhood long gone, replaced by the bitter burn of adulthood.

And Taehyung, still in his teenage years, knew his innocence had faded the moment he was forced to abandon his dreams to become a father to his own father.

Namjoon had a long shift tonight. He would start work before the sun even rose and finish long after it had set. That was how hard he worked. But it was still better than nothing. He was just grateful to have found a job—even if it wasn’t what he had once dreamed of.

Who ever dreams of working at a gas station?

That wasn’t what he was meant for, either. His teachers used to tell him he was too intelligent for his age, that he was destined for something bigger. Someone important. Someone respected.

He let out a dry chuckle at the thought. If only he had the luxury of dreaming.

Leaning back in his chair, he let his thoughts drift—until his phone rang, pulling him back to reality.

It could only be one of two people: Taehyung or his younger brother. Either way, it was important. He never made a distinction between them. Blood didn’t matter—Taehyung was just as much his brother as the one he shared a name with.

However, tonight, it was his real brother—Joohan.

Unconsciously, his fingers went to his mouth. Just like Taehyung, if they were calling him, it was never for something good.

“Joon,” his brother’s voice came through the line, quiet but urgent, muffled by background noise that made it hard to understand. “I’m at the police station. Can you bail me out? Please?”

Namjoon didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there.” Of course, he would.

With a sigh, he counted the money he had earned today—just enough to cover Jooan’s bail. With this, he could have paid off part of their father’s medical bills. He could have bought something small for his mother, maybe even for Joohan, or Taehyung. A rare little moment of kindness in a life that had so few.

But not today.

Not this time.

On autopilot, Namjoon paid for his brother’s mistake—graffiti vandalism on a wall with some friends. Only two of them had been caught. The other two ran.

Now, he stood outside the police station, cigarette between his fingers, waiting. When he saw Joohan approaching, he instinctively hid it behind his back, as if shielding him from something so small could somehow preserve his innocence.

Namjoon was in denial, really. Jooan had lost that innocence a long time ago. But still, this was what an older brother was supposed to do.

“Spare me that look,” Joohan spat, his brows furrowed as he glared at his older brother with disdain.

“I’m just worried about you,” Namjoon said softly, his voice steady—never one to raise it, never one to let anger take over. “I told you to stop hanging out with them. One day, I won’t have the money to—”

Before he could finish, before he could explain his rational fears, Joohan cut him off.

“Stop with your bullshit! You’re not my father, Namjoon,” he snapped before turning on his heel and walking away.

As much as Namjoon wanted to follow him, to ask—no, plead for him to go home and check on their mother and father, he knew he couldn’t. He understood, truly, if Joohan wanted to do something else, to be with his friends. He wanted the same, too. But sometimes, he just wished Jooan would help.

Guilt washed over him immediately, and before his mind could spiral into thoughts he didn’t want to entertain, he turned and walked back to the gas station. He would work extra hours tonight. It was the only thing he could do.

It was a familiar boxy smile that greeted Namjoon as he entered the gas station, not the usual rude, indifferent customer.

“Hyung!” Taehyung said, his boxy grin wide as he stood up from the small curb he always sat on when he came to visit Namjoon at work. “Are you okay?” he asked, just like he always did.

It was a habit for Taehyung—he was just that kind of person. Always caring, always asking if everyone around him was okay, if there was anything he could do to help. The same way he’d check on his mother and sister. Even with his father. There was this constant need inside him to play the hero, to protect everyone and everything—except himself.

“I’m fine,” Namjoon replied, as usual. “Joohan got into trouble again,” he added without thinking. He didn’t notice how Taehyung shifted on his feet, subtly hiding his right hand inside the sleeve of his denim jacket.

Taehyung chuckled slightly at that, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He wondered if he sounded the same way when he talked about him—like it was just another burden.

Taehyung masked his thoughts with a bright smile, before running to the counter with too much energy. “My father made progress,” he said, touching everything on Namjoon’s desk, absentmindedly playing with one of his literature trophies—something Namjoon kept there, almost like it held some kind of meaning.

“It’s been a week since he stopped drinking,” Taehyung continued, his face lighting up with a smile. “My mom and sister will come for dinner tomorrow night.”

Namjoon smiled, his dimples showing as he spoke. He was truly happy for Taehyung. He deserved this. But deep down, a buried part of him couldn’t help but feel something else—jealousy. He wondered if, one day, he could say something like that with that much happiness, just like Taehyung did.

“I’m happy for you, Taehyung,” Namjoon said, focusing on putting everything Taehyung had touched back into place. “Someday, you won’t need me,” he added with a chuckle, trying to make light of it.

“Ah!” Taehyung exclaimed, playfully hitting Namjoon on the shoulder with his right hand. “Don’t be greedy, hyung.”

But then something caught Namjoon’s eye for a moment—something on Taehyung’s hand. Paint. The electric blue he had seen earlier on his brother’s clothes.

“Taehyung?” Namjoon asked, his voice low, the atmosphere suddenly shifting into something heavier. “Where were you tonight?”

Taehyung stopped moving, his body stilling for a moment. He was an expressive boy, unable to hide anything—whether it was lying, sadness, happiness, or anger. He wore his emotions like an open book, a perfect canvas for whatever he was feeling at the moment.

“The usual,” Taehyung began, the words carrying an unspoken meaning. The usual meant doing stupid things in the streets, getting into fights, and running away. Running away. Taehyung was good at it, Namjoon thought, wondering how he hadn’t been caught by the police yet.

Namjoon clenched his jaw, keeping his voice soft, controlled. “You didn’t tell me you were doing graffiti now.”

The teachers had been right about him. He was too intelligent for his own good, and sometimes, that made things harder to ignore.

“Were you perhaps one of the two boys that ran away?” Namjoon asked, his voice calm but carrying a challenge. He wasn’t angry, not yet. He just wanted to know if Taehyung would lie to him or admit the truth.

Taehyung, as always, couldn’t lie. He met Namjoon’s gaze, his expression softening. “I was,” he admitted quietly.

Namjoon ran his tongue inside his mouth, trying to suppress the anger that simmered just below the surface. Taehyung had been surrounded by anger all his life—his father, and the chaos he had grown up with. Namjoon couldn’t let his own emotions take over. But sometimes, just sometimes, he wished he could explode. If only he could. He hated feeling like he had to keep everything buried, like he had to be the calm one all the time.

He didn’t even want to know how Taehyung and his brother had crossed paths. He guessed it was inevitable when two boys their age were left to wander the streets, unsupervised and lost in their own reckless worlds.

“Whose idea was it?” Namjoon asked, keeping his gaze away from Taehyung. He knew if he looked directly at him, he would see the truth—or perhaps the lack of it—and he didn’t want to face it. Denial was easier.

And, as expected, Taehyung didn’t admit to it being his idea. He was with an other boy when they found some cans of spray paint. They were waiting to use them when they met Joohan and his friend, sitting on a bench, doing nothing too illegal. Somehow, Taehyung and his friend dragged them into it, convincing them to join in.

Taehyung knew Joohan was Namjoon’s brother. He had seen the pictures on Namjoon’s desk, after all. But still, he didn’t stop them from joining. He genuinely thought nothing bad would happen. It was just graffiti. Just something stupid.

Taehyung had never considered the consequences of his actions in the way Namjoon had. The thought that someone might call the police on them, that his own brother would end up caught in the fallout, never crossed his mind. For Taehyung, it wasn’t even a possibility. He just acted without fully understanding the ripple effect it could cause.

“I— We weren’t doing—” Taehyung stammered, trying to find the right words, but the more he spoke, the more the situation felt out of his control. His desperation grew, as he tried to downplay the mess they had gotten into. He wanted to make it seem less serious, less like it was his fault that Namjoon’s younger brother had gotten into trouble and that Namjoon had lost his hard-earned money on a stupid mistake he had initiated. “I didn’t think about—”

But Namjoon couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t keep hiding behind the calm mask, suppressing his anger like he had always done in the past. Not when Taehyung’s reckless actions were dragging his brother—and his family—into a mess they couldn’t afford.

Namjoon had put up with Taehyung’s usual habits before. Not that he ever liked them, but they were Taehyung’s choices, and he understood that. Taehyung had his own life to lead, and Namjoon had learned to accept that, even if it pained him to see his friend constantly pushing boundaries. But now? Now it was different. Taehyung’s behavior was no longer just affecting him. It was affecting his family. Namjoon’s real family—the people who depended on him, the ones he had to protect. He couldn’t stand by and watch as Taehyung kept making decisions that threatened everything they had.

That night, Namjoon made a hard decision. He couldn’t keep seeing Taehyung as his brother, not in the way he saw Joohan. The person he needed to protect first, above all, was his own flesh and blood. He had to step up and put his real family first, even if that meant distancing himself from someone he had once considered his own brother. It hurt, but it was necessary.

He had tried to justify it, tried to avoid drawing that line, but tonight he couldn’t deny it any longer. There was a difference between the bond he had with Taehyung and the responsibility he held toward his real family. Joohan was his priority now, and he would do whatever it took to protect him.

The fight—if we can even call it that—had happened a week ago. There were no screams or shattered glass, no physical blows exchanged, nothing like the violent outbursts Taehyung was used to. It wasn’t that kind of confrontation, yet it still felt just as raw.

Taehyung couldn’t shake the guilt. He knew he had messed up, that he should’ve told Joohan to go home, should’ve stopped dragging him into his mess. But now it was too late for that. He had hurt Namjoon and his family, and while he would eventually apologize, he couldn’t bring himself to do it tonight. Not when tonight was too important.

His mother and sister would be coming over. They’d sit around the table together and share a meal, as a family, something Taehyung had been dreaming about for weeks. He’d spent the entire day preparing the meal, wanting everything to be perfect. The last thing he needed was his guilt ruining this precious moment with the people he loved most.

When the knock came at the door, Taehyung rushed to answer. His father was still in the bathroom, trying to make himself presentable. He wanted to show that he was improving, that he was getting better. But deep down, Taehyung knew his father still felt the weight of his past actions, the damage he had done to his family. He could see it in the way he acted, the nervous energy in his every movement.

Still, Taehyung couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Tonight was different. Tonight, his family would be together again, and that’s all he really wanted. He desperately wanted to make things right, to prove that he could be a good son, a good brother, and a good father figure for his own dad.

He had worked hard for this moment. It had been a whole month since he last drank, and though it wasn’t much, it was something. The battle against the temptation still raged inside him, but he had held strong. Even more importantly, he hadn’t raised a hand to his son since—the one thing he was most proud of.

As he opened the door, he could feel the weight of the night ahead, but for once, he wasn’t going to let his past mistakes define it. Tonight, he would focus on his family. Tonight, he would try to be the man they deserved.

It felt strange. Taehyung had spent the entire day looking forward to this dinner, hoping—like a child—for warmth, for laughter, for the kind of effortless conversations that made a family feel whole. He had imagined them sitting around the table, exchanging stories, maybe even hugging before they left. But none of that happened.

Instead, there was an uncomfortable distance between them, something heavy in the air that he couldn’t quite grasp. His mother and sister felt different, like strangers wearing familiar faces. They had been a family once, hadn’t they? So why did it feel like they never were?

Taehyung tried to understand. He really did. He knew his father had made mistakes—terrible ones—but he was trying to be better. He was changing. Wasn’t that worth something? Wasn’t that enough to give them hope?

Dinner ended in that same quiet tension, and when it was time to say goodbye, Taehyung walked them to the door. He had insisted his father come too, to stand beside him and show them that he was really trying. But his father refused, weighed down by guilt so heavy that he couldn’t even meet their eyes.

Outside, his mother turned to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her touch was warm, but her words were not.

“Taehyung,” she said softly, “don’t you want to come with us? You know you have a room waiting for you. I want you there, with me and your sister.”

Again. The same question, the same plea. She had asked him so many times before, trying to pull him away, to bring him to an unfamiliar town, an unfamiliar home—away from his father.

Taehyung swallowed. His answer never changed.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice firm. “I can’t leave dad alone. He’s getting better—you see that, don’t you?” His eyes flickered to his sister, searching for something in her expression. Agreement. Understanding. Anything.

But she only looked away.

His fists clenched at his sides, the same anger bubbling up inside him—the same anger he had felt the day they left.

“We can be a family again,” he shouted, his voice cracking slightly, raw with desperation.

His mother flinched, taking a small but noticeable step back. She had always hated anger, always feared the way it coursed through the men in her life, how it seemed to be something inherited, something inescapable.

“Taehee,” he turned to his sister, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Dad wants to have you with him.”

He could understand why their mother had left. She had endured too much, seen too many broken promises. But Taehee? His own sister? He couldn’t understand how she could walk away so easily.

“I’m scared of him,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes met his, filled with something close to regret, but also finality. She was begging him—please, let me go.

But Taehyung was stubborn.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling now. “For me.”

“Tae, I can’t. I don’t want to see him again,” Taehee murmured, her gaze fixed on the ground as if looking at him would break her resolve. She had spent too many nights listening to their father’s drunken rage, watching as he lashed out at Taehyung, knowing she was powerless to stop it. She couldn’t go back to that—not even for her brother.

“Come with us,” she pleaded again, her voice trembling. She reached for their mother’s hand, pulling her close, as if grounding herself in the presence of the one person who had managed to escape. Their mother remained silent, but her eyes were full of sorrow. She wanted Taehyung with them, away from the chaos, away from the burden he had placed on his own shoulders. She wanted him safe.

“Fuck! No!” Taehyung snapped, his voice rising with frustration. His teeth clenched so tightly it hurt. “I have to take care of him! If you’re not capable of doing it, then I have to!” His hands trembled as he pointed an accusatory finger at them both, his chest heaving.

How could they just leave? How could they walk away so easily and expect him to do the same?

They said their goodbyes and left—again. Taehyung stood there for a moment, watching as they disappeared into the night, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He should’ve been used to this by now. But it never got easier.

When he stepped back inside, the first thing that hit him was the smell—sharp, bitter, unmistakable.

Then, his eyes landed on the bottle by the door, lying on its side, its contents spilled across the floor.

And then—the feet.

His father’s feet, sprawled out lifelessly on the ground.

“Dad!” Taehyung’s voice cracked as he rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside him. His heart pounded so loudly it echoed in his ears. Just minutes ago, he had been fine. He had been trying. How had he fallen so fast? How had everything gone wrong so quickly?

“Come on,” Taehyung pleaded, gripping his father’s shoulders, shaking him as if he could wake him up from this nightmare. “Dad, wake up.”

His father’s head lolled to the side, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused, his body limp like a discarded puppet. Taehyung could smell the alcohol clinging to his clothes, seeping into the air around them.

His father had been trying.

But tonight, he had lost.

“Leave me alone,” his father grumbled, shoving Taehyung away with a weak but deliberate push. His bloodshot eyes flickered toward the slightly open window, his expression twisting into something bitter. “I know you’re just waiting for me to die so you can run off and join them,” he spat, his words slurred but sharp.

Taehyung’s breath hitched. His father had heard.

“Don’t say things like that,” he pleaded, his voice trembling, eyes stinging with unshed tears. He couldn’t even bear the thought of losing him—not like this. No matter how broken he was, he was still his father. The man he had once admired. The man he had spent years believing in.

His father let out a hollow laugh, full of resentment. Then, without warning—

Smack.

“Shut the fuck up!” he roared, his palm colliding with Taehyung’s cheek.

Taehyung barely registered the sting before the shock settled in. His head snapped to the side, his cheek burning where his father’s palm had struck.

“I…” Taehyung started, his voice small, trembling. But what was there to say?

His father scoffed bitterly, stumbling back as he reached for the bottle again. His hands fumbled against the floor, desperate, pathetic. “I know you want to leave, just like them,” he slurred. “You all do. You all look at me like I’m some kind of—some kind of monster.”

“I don’t.” Taehyung swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I stayed.”

His father let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah? And look where that got you.”

Taehyung wanted to argue, wanted to scream that he wasn’t regretting it—that he wasn’t like them. That he wouldn’t leave.

Taehyung didn’t fight back. He didn’t raise his hands to shield himself or try to escape. He just let it happen.

His father shoved him to the floor, and the first blow landed hard—then another, and another. The force sent shockwaves through his body, but he didn’t make a sound. He didn’t cry. He didn’t beg.

He had learned a long time ago that it was easier this way. That struggling only made it worse. So he stayed there, curled up on the cold floor, taking each hit in silence.

“What do you mean I’m not doing enough?” Namjoon’s voice echoed through the cramped walls of his small room near the gas station. He gripped the phone tighter, his knuckles turning white. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Here he was, working himself to exhaustion, barely sleeping, barely living, just to make sure his family had something—and now his mother was calling to tell him it still wasn’t enough?

His chest ached with frustration. He had given up everything. His dreams, his future, his own well-being. He was the only one bringing money home, the only financial support they had, and yet somehow, it still wasn’t enough?

“I haven’t slept for days because I keep working,” he snapped, his voice rising despite himself. The walls seemed to throw his words right back at him, amplifying his anger. “How is that not enough?”

He didn’t even want to hear her explanations. His patience, already hanging by a thread, snapped. In a rush of anger, he hung up.

It had been days since he’d last closed his eyes properly. First, it was Taehyung calling him in the middle of the night. Then, his brother getting into trouble—because of Taehyung. And now, extra shifts piling on just so he could make ends meet. He was exhausted. Beyond exhausted. His body ached, his head throbbed, and his emotions felt like a storm barely held back by a dam that was seconds from breaking.

A sharp knock on his window cut through his thoughts. He exhaled, long and slow, dragging a hand down his face. Not now. He just wanted to be alone, to shut everything out, even if just for a moment.

But then he saw that familiar boxy smile on the other side of the glass.

Taehyung.

It had been a week since they’d last spoken, since that night. But looking at him now, Namjoon realized—he wasn’t angry at him anymore. He was just tired. Tired of everything, of everyone, of holding himself together when all he wanted to do was fall apart.

Namjoon opened the window, and Taehyung easily climbed through, but it was the bruises on his face that immediately caught Namjoon’s eye.

“Hey, hyung,” Taehyung greeted, pacing around the cramped space, deliberately avoiding Namjoon’s gaze. “I had dinner with my family tonight,” he said, his words coming out without much thought. “I really thought it’d be like before, but—”

Namjoon couldn’t take it anymore. The anger, exhaustion, and frustration he’d been bottling up for days finally erupted. He couldn’t bear to hear Taehyung talk about his problems, not right now.

“Stop,” Namjoon whispered, his hand clutching his temples, as if he could hold himself together that way. “I can’t keep listening to you complain over and over again.”

Taehyung froze, the words hitting him harder than any of the bruises on his face. His mouth remained slightly open, his unfinished sentence hanging in the air between them.

Namjoon exhaled sharply, he didn’t mean to snap. He really didn’t. But he was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. He had nothing left to give.

“Hyung…?” Taehyung’s voice was smaller now, uncertain.

Namjoon sighed again, this time through gritted teeth. “It’s always about you, Tae.” His voice wasn’t loud, but the weight behind it was crushing. “Every time you come here, it’s the same thing. Your dad. Your problems. Your fights.”

Taehyung took a small step back, his gaze flickering between Namjoon’s tense shoulders and the floor. “That’s not—” He stopped himself, swallowing thickly. Because maybe it was true.

Namjoon let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t have time to sit here and listen to you complain, Taehyung. I’m barely keeping myself together.”

It wasn’t fair. Taehyung knew it wasn’t fair. But the words still stung like ice against an open wound. He lowered his head, biting his lip. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

Namjoon’s words were sharp, slicing through the heavy air. “I have too much on my plate right now to listen to you,” he said, his voice thick with frustration. It felt like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Maybe you should try to handle things on your own for once,” he added, his words full of bitterness.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed, his eyes wide with confusion. He never once asked for Namjoon’s help, never expected him to carry his burdens. Maybe he talked too much about his problems because Namjoon was his closest friend, someone he trusted. But he never meant for it to feel suffocating.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it’d—”

“That’s your problem!” Namjoon snapped, his anger flaring even more. “You never think! Like that night with my brother—did you think about the consequences? You’re too wrapped up in your own world to even care about anyone else, Taehyung!”

“That’s not true, I care about you,” Taehyung defended himself, his voice shaking slightly. He wasn’t used to seeing Namjoon like this, to seeing him so on edge, ready to explode. It felt like a stranger was standing before him, not the calm, thoughtful friend he had known.

Namjoon’s eyes darkened, a mixture of exhaustion and anger brewing within them. “I don’t need your help!” he shot back, his voice growing sharper. “Stop trying to act like some kind of hero!” His words were heavy, every syllable carrying the weight of everything he had been holding inside for so long.

“I don’t want you near me or my family again,” Namjoon said, his voice low and dangerous as he grabbed Taehyung by the shoulders, pushing him toward the door. “Don’t come near my brother ever again. You’re nothing but trouble, Taehyung.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened in shock, but Namjoon couldn’t look at him anymore. He knew he wasn’t being fair, knew that Taehyung wasn’t entirely to blame for everything. But right now, it was easier to lash out at him, to direct all his frustration and anger at someone who seemed to be the root of it.

He could feel the weight of his words, the way they hung in the air between them, but he couldn’t stop himself. It felt like the only way to regain some semblance of control.

Before Taehyung could say anything else, the door slammed shut in his face, the sound echoing in his chest. His backside hit the cold pavement with a dull thud, and all he could do was stare blankly at the door that had just closed on him.

He never expected this—never expected to be sent away like this, not after everything that had happened. It wasn’t just a bad night; it felt like everything had been crumbling around him. His father’s violence, the failed family dinner, and now this. All he wanted was to find comfort in his best friend, but here he was, alone, abandoned on the street.

Why had Namjoon been so angry? It couldn’t have been just about him, could it? Was it his fault?

Taehyung stared at the door for a long time, lost in his thoughts, his fingers curling into the fabric of his pants as a cold breeze brushed past. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to mess everything up, the way everyone around him seemed to get frustrated with him. Even his father was angry at him. Maybe he was just that person—the one who always triggered anger in others without meaning to. The one who couldn’t get anything right. The one who always made things worse.

Namjoon wasn’t okay.

His nerves had been frayed since his mother’s call, and exhaustion was creeping in, threatening to pull him under. His body was on the verge of giving out, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him harder than ever.

He had always tried to be the strong one—the calm, rational one. The one who held things together when everything else was falling apart. He had spent his life protecting, fixing, sacrificing. But tonight, it felt like none of it had mattered.

He had failed.

And nothing made him feel more like a failure than the way Taehyung had looked at him through the doorway—eyes wide, filled with something between disbelief and silent pleading. A look that begged him not to do what he had just done.

But he had done it anyway. He had turned his back. Pushed Taehyung away. Abandoned him.

Being around Taehyung was exhausting. Namjoon couldn’t keep up the calm façade anymore—not when everything inside him was cracking under the weight of it all.

He knew Taehyung looked up to him, saw him as some kind of father figure. But Namjoon wasn’t a father. He wasn’t responsible for raising his younger brother, and he certainly wasn’t responsible for Taehyung. He was just an eighteen-year-old boy trying to survive, trying to make it through each day without completely falling apart.

He had never asked for this life, never asked to be the one everyone depended on. But despite it all—despite the anger, the exhaustion, the overwhelming need to push everything away—he still felt guilty.

Namjoon clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the crumpled bills on the ground. For a brief second, he had forgotten where he was—forgotten that he was supposed to be working, supposed to be swallowing his pride like he did every day.

The car in front of him was sleek, expensive—something he could only dream of. And the man inside? Dressed in a sharp suit, oozing arrogance, he barely spared Namjoon a glance as he tossed the money carelessly, like he was throwing scraps to a stray dog.

“Do your job,” the man ordered, his voice dripping with condescension.

Namjoon bent down to pick up the money, but before he could stand, the man laughed—a sharp, mocking sound that made Namjoon’s stomach twist.

“You haven’t seen that much before, have you?” the man sneered, his tone filled with disdain. His laughter wasn’t just at Namjoon’s expense; it was a declaration. Look at you. You’ll always be on your knees in front of me.

Namjoon felt the heat rise to his face, his fingers trembling as he held out the extra bills. He forced himself to keep his head down, to swallow back the bitterness burning in his throat.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. He had dealt with men like this before—people who thought money made them untouchable, who looked at him like he was nothing more than dirt under their feet.

“There’s too much,” he said quietly, his voice controlled, almost emotionless. He straightened his back and bowed his head slightly, offering the excess money back.

The man scoffed, shaking his head in amusement. “You see, that’s the problem with the poor,” he drawled, his voice carrying that same smug superiority. “Ungrateful.”

Before Namjoon could react, the man’s arms shot out, kicking the cap off his head. It tumbled onto the pavement, landing at Namjoon’s feet like an insult.

Namjoon inhaled sharply through his nose, his nails digging into his palms. Ungrateful? If anything, Namjoon was the opposite of that. He fought every single day, trying to keep his life from unraveling, holding it together with sheer willpower. He never complained, never asked for more than what he had, because he knew life wasn’t easy. It never had been.

So how could people look down on him so easily? First his mother, now this stranger—both making him feel like he wasn’t enough, like all the effort he put in meant nothing. It didn’t matter how hard he worked, how much he sacrificed. People only saw what they wanted to see.

And the problem with bottling up all that anger, all that exhaustion, was that when it finally exploded, it wouldn’t be controlled. It wouldn’t be quiet. It would be ugly. And unforgivable.

Namjoon threw the money back onto the ground, the bills scattering like worthless scraps, and without thinking, he kicked the side of the man’s pristine dark car. The metallic thud echoed in the night.

Shouts erupted. Then fists. Namjoon didn’t remember who threw the first punch, only that suddenly there was chaos—gritted teeth, swinging arms, the sharp sting of knuckles against skin. It was messy, unrestrained.

And then, silence.

Then sirens.

They didn’t ask questions. Didn’t hesitate. The officers took one look at the scene, at the man in his expensive suit and the other in his worn-out uniform, and decided who the criminal was.

The one who looked more like a vagabond.

The cold metal of the handcuffs burned against his skin as they shoved him into the back of the police car.

Namjoon had truly failed.

Taehyung had spent a terrible night. His nightmares had felt too real—too vivid, too cruel. He saw Namjoon dying in a way only a manic, broken mind could conjure.

Not just Namjoon. His sister too. Again.

In his dream, he had wanted to switch fates, to be the one choking on blood, the one suffering. Anything but watching the people he loved be on the receiving end of that agony.

What was worse than waking up in a trance, heart hammering, head throbbing, was the crushing realization that he couldn’t even call Namjoon to hear his voice and steady his breathing. Namjoon had made it clear—Taehyung was suffocating him. He had no right to reach out anymore.

His phone buzzed against the nightstand. He barely had time to register the sound before his fingers grasped for it, already desperate for relief.

But it wasn’t Namjoon.

His brows furrowed when he saw his sister’s name on the screen. She almost never called.

“Noona—” He barely got the word out before he heard her sobs.

That sound. The one that haunted his nights. The one that echoed in his dreams, looping endlessly, a ghostly reminder of everything he had failed to protect.

A cold, sinking feeling gripped his chest.

Something was happening. Something bad.

And if his nightmares had taught him anything, it was that someone was going to die tonight.

But not his sister.

Not this time. He would make sure of that.

As Taehyung ran through the dimly lit streets, his sister’s voice echoed in his head, her violent sobs blending with the distant screams outside.

“I’m scared, Taehyung,” she had choked out between ragged breaths. “He’s here.”

His feet pounded against the pavement, his lungs burning, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t. His entire body moved on instinct—desperation fueling every step, every frantic heartbeat.

“Mom and I are hiding in my room,” she had continued, her voice trembling, her sobs growing harsher.

“I’m scared, Taehyung. I’m scared.”

Again and again, like a broken record.

He had to get to them.

No matter what it took. No matter what he had to do.

Without hesitation. Without doubt.

Taehyung barely registered the burning in his legs as he sprinted up the stairs, taking them two, three at a time. He had never run this fast in his life—he didn’t even know he could. But nothing mattered more than getting to them. Not the ache in his chest, not the breath he couldn’t catch.

The only sound louder than his pounding heartbeat was the choked sobs of his sister and mother still echoing through the phone.

He reached the seventh floor and slammed the apartment door open, his vision blurring with sheer panic.

His eyes darted immediately to the open bedroom door.

His father stood there—tall, looming. His presence alone was suffocating.

But what sent ice through Taehyung’s veins was what was in his father’s hands.

A sharp object.

His sister and mother were huddled on the floor, knees tucked to their chests, gripping each other as if letting go would shatter them completely. Violent, gut-wrenching sobs wracked their bodies, fear written in every trembling movement.

Taehyung didn’t think.

He didn’t need to.

His eyes landed on the counter.

A bottle.

He lunged for it, grabbing it with both hands and smashing it against the hard surface. Glass exploded, shards scattering across the floor.

Then, gripping the broken neck of the bottle tightly, he turned and ran straight for his father.

The first stab was instinct.

The second was desperation.

The third was certainty.

Taehyung didn’t know when he started crying. He barely registered the screams of his mother and sister, their voices blending into the chaotic rush of blood pounding in his ears. His body moved on its own, his grip tightening around the shattered bottle, his sobs mixing with his ragged breaths.

He had promised. Promised he would protect them no matter what.

And if this was the price—if taking his own father’s life was the only way to keep them safe—then so be it.

“You will never hurt us again,” he choked out between frantic gasps, his hands trembling but unwilling to stop.

It wasn’t until his father’s body collapsed to the ground, still and unmoving, that the weight of it all crashed into him.

His knees buckled. The broken bottle slipped from his fingers, clattering against the blood-stained floor.

And then, Taehyung screamed.

A raw, agonizing sound that tore through his throat, shaking with grief, relief, and the overwhelming horror of what he had just done.

He had saved them. But at what cost?

The desperation in Taehyung’s voice echoed through the silence that followed. His hands, slick with blood, trembled as he desperately shook his father’s lifeless shoulders. He begged, pleaded—prayed for a miracle that would never come.

“Dad, please…” His voice cracked, the words tasting like acid in his throat. His father’s body didn’t respond. He couldn’t even pretend anymore. He couldn’t hope anymore.

The man who raised him—the man who had hurt him, broken him, and shaped him into something dark—was gone.

But it didn’t matter now. All that mattered was the blood on his hands. The same blood that was supposed to connect him to his father was now a symbol of his betrayal.

He had crossed a line. He had become the monster.

Taehyung fell back on his knees, his chest heaving with silent sobs. His body shook uncontrollably as the weight of it all crushed him. In trying to protect his family, he had destroyed the last part of his innocence.

He couldn’t look at himself. He didn’t want to.

He was no better than the man who raised him.

He left the room, his mother and sister unable to look at the horrific scene, their eyes turned away from everything—turning away from him.

Taehyung fumbled for his phone in his pocket, his bloodstained hands trembling as he tugged at his jeans. His fingers left smears of red on the screen as he dialed the number he knew all too well.

The phone rang, but when it hit the second ring, there was still no answer.

“Hyung,” Taehyung whispered, unaware that his message would never reach its destination. He sank to the floor, his back pressed against the cold wall. “I know I hurt you,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

The final sob breaking his composure, before dropping the phone to the floor.

“Hyung, I really need your help—”

Namjoon stared at his phone, still lying on the desk at the police station. Taehyung. The name burned in his chest, a constant reminder of everything that had been left unsaid, of everything that had gone wrong. He wanted to reach for it, to hear his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

His hands stayed frozen, a painful weight pressing on his chest. His fate, his actions—they were being sealed in that moment, and the consequences of his choices felt inevitable.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. And he knew, deep down, he might never have the chance to again.

And just like that, they both became criminals.

One in a moment of blind desperation, driven to violence by the weight of a broken family and an even heavier heart. The other, crushed by guilt and years of bottled anger, pushing himself beyond the point of no return. The line between right and wrong blurred for both of them, as they sank deeper into a reality they couldn’t undo.

What they had once hoped for—healing, redemption, peace—now seemed like distant dreams. Their paths, though separate, had converged in the same dark place, and neither knew how to pull themselves out. Each was bound by the consequences of their actions, and no matter how much they regretted it, the past couldn’t be erased.

They were criminals now. And neither knew where the journey would take them next.

[rj-jinye]

maine by noah kahan as hyyh taejoon HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT I am going to explain myself.

namjoon and taehyung are not crash-and-burn or decay-and-rot they are more like gone-with-the-wind or how-to-disappear. more like “you have bigger things ahead of you” more like “i hope i don’t interfere with this future i hope this blood doesn’t stain your floor no it’s not my blood it’s just everywhere i don’t know where it came from” more like “you leave traces of yourself everywhere you can’t clean this up i won’t let you” the type of moment you have for a second that feels like a year. but all in all it is just a second made up by people who care too much about things they don’t know much about. too dependent on tiny information too dependent on the temporary. taehyung is scattered; he covers everything he touches like magic, like fireworks, like smoke. the problem is with kids like that is that they fuck up spectacularly sooner or later and force themselves to disappear, leaving shards of glass in their place as if disappearing makes up for any of the things they’ve tainted. namjoon has steadiness that is only a preconceived notion. a remnant of what used to be there. he isn’t steady but he lingers; lingers in places people do not exist to make sense of what he will never have; lingers in ghost cities until he too decides to erase everything. he hides from his guilt and the black blood on his hands because if nothing else he shares it. he shares every burden until they are both nothing more than whispers.

they exist in this in-and-out collapsing portal where taehyung never stays in one place for too long and doesn’t tell anyone why and when he finally rips through space itself trying to flee, namjoon will take his things and leave the city with pockets full of glass.

hmm now I am tempted to write a dual timeline taejoon au. I will tie in cape elizabeth somehow.

[makeitinkorea]

Aujourd'hui nous vous présentons quatre familles de chaebol ainsi que les entreprises qu'elles ont créée. Il s'agit des anciennes familles qui règnent depuis des décennies, mais aussi les plus riches et puissantes du pays (voir du monde).

CHAEBOLS LES PLUS CONNUS, PAR ORDRE DE RICHESSE ET DE PUISSANCE

DAEHAN MOTORS Création : 13 janvier 1952. Fondateur : Seol Byungchul.

Autres dirigeants : Seol Taejoon (fils du précédent), Seol Minkyu (actuel, fils du précédent).

Ce groupe d'entreprises était initialement spécialisé dans la fabrication de véhicules sous la marque Daehan. Aujourd'hui, Daehan Motors est réputé comme l'un des plus grands constructeurs automobiles mondiaux, et touche également à l'aérospatial mais aussi aux transports publics et à l'ingénierie. Devenu le groupe le plus riche du pays, sa famille est l'une des plus puissante au monde.

— FAMILLE SEOL

Famille traditionnelle et patriarcale de chaebols coréens, les Seol résident dans une villa ancestrale du quartier de Yeonhwa où les enfants sont élevés strictement, portant l'héritage d'une grande famille d'entrepreneurs sur leurs épaules. Dans cette famille, les hommes sont largement favorisés pour obtenir les meilleures places de Daehan Motors, les dirigeants de l'entreprise étant choisis de père en fils. A l'inverse, les filles sont élevées de manière à devenir les parfaites épouses au foyer d'un homme riche. Si son épouse est une femme douce et aimante, Seol Minkyu est un homme particulièrement sanguin, stricte, et exigeant, en particulier avec ses enfants. Certains d'entre eux ont docilement suivi la voie qui leur était toute tracée dans l'espoir d'obtenir, peut-être, l'amour d'un père antipathique. D'autres enfants en revanche, plus rebelles, préfèrent prendre un chemin différent, choisissant de dissimuler ou non leurs intentions à leur paternel, à leurs risques et périls.

Seol Minkyu (M, 56 ans). Marié à Cheon Eunjung (F, 52 ans). - Seol Prénom au choix (M, 32 ans). - Seol Prénom au choix (M, 30 ans). - Seol Prénom au choix (F, 27 ans). - Seol Prénom au choix (F, 24 ans).

MIDO GROUP Création : 26 novembre 1962. Fondateur : Ryu Jaehoon.

Autre dirigeant : Ryu Hyesoo (actuelle, fille du précédent).

Leader mondial dans l'industrie cosmétique et la mode, Mido Group détient un réseau exceptionnel de filiales couvrant tous les aspects du secteur. En plus de cela, Mido Group possède également AriL, une chaîne de magasins de cosmétiques omniprésente en Corée du Sud. Les magasins AriL sont réputés pour vendre une variété de produits, des plus abordables aux plus grandes marques de luxe, comme la marque Seora, filiale du groupe. Mido Group est aussi un acteur majeur dans l'industrie de la mode et possède plusieurs chaînes de magasins de vêtements dans le monde entier.

— FAMILLE RYU

Ryu Hyesoo, dirigeante actuelle de Mido Group, est une ancienne mannequin dont le visage a grandement participé à l'explosion de la marque de luxe Seora. Mère de deux jeunes femmes dont elle a fait de véritables princesses, poupées de porcelaines, toujours apprêtées et mises en beauté, elle est une femme de caractère, dirigeante ambitieuse et très acharnée. C'est elle qui a insisté pour que ses filles prennent son nom, plutôt que celui de leur père, afin de perpétrer l'héritage laissé par Ryu Jaehoon. Les filles de la famille Ryu, bien qu'ayant reçu une éducation stricte, ont eu la chance de ne jamais manquer de rien, y compris de l'amour d'une mère qui, bien qu'exigeante, a toujours cédé à leurs moindres caprices. On dit de ces filles qu'elles sont de vraies divas, extrêmement hautaines, et que personne ne peut résister à leur incroyable beauté. Cette façade parfaite cacherait-elle un hideux secret ?

Ryu Hyesoo (F, 52 ans). Mariée à Kang Sungmin (M, 53 ans). - Ryu Prénom au choix (F, 26 ans). - Ryu Prénom au choix (F, 23 ans).

CHEONGHWA CORPORATION Création : 13 août 1964. Fondateur : Cheon Daesik.

Autre dirigeants : Cheon Daehyun (frère du précédent), Cheon Taejin (actuel, fils du précédent).

Chaebol sud-coréen majeur possédant un grand empire commercial et touchant à divers secteurs de l'économie. Fondé dans les années 1960 par la famille Cheon, Cheonghwa Corporation englobe diverses activités allant de l'aviation à l'hôtellerie de luxe, le commerce et les loisirs et infrastructures. Cheonghwa Corporation est notamment à l'origine de la construction du plus grand stade de Corée du Sud qui accueille de grands événements sportifs et concerts, ainsi que de la Dojang Nexus Toxer, un centre de loisir révolutionnaire, devenu l'une des plus belles attractions touristiques de la capitale.

— FAMILLE CHEON

Cheon Taejin espère bientôt prendre sa retraite et compte sur son fils aîné pour prendre la relève. En tant que seul garçon et plus âgé de sa fratrie, Cheon Prénom au choix est au cœur des attentes de ses parents afin de reprendre l'entreprise familiale. Pourtant, le jeune homme au caractère bien trempé préfère profiter de sa jeunesse et ne s'établir sous aucun prétexte. Etant le fils préféré de ses géniteurs qui cèdent à tous ses caprices et le chouchoutent comme s'il n'était encore qu'un enfant, il ne cesse de s'enliser dans des situations compliquées et des scandales qui attisent les gros titres de la presse. Entre drogue, alcool, courses de voiture, bagarres, le couple Cheon ne sait plus comment calmer les ardeurs de ce garçon immature à qui ils n'ont pourtant jamais rien refusé. Ses quatre sœurs, pourtant plus sages, plus matures, peinent à obtenir la moindre attention de la part de leurs parents. La jalousie les poussera-t-elles à briser la future carrière de leur frère dont elles pourraient prendre la place, ou choisiront-elles de rester fidèles et honnêtes envers le clan Cheon ?

Cheon Taejin (M, 63 ans). Marié à Kim Mikyung (F, 54 ans). - Cheon Prénom au choix (M, 27 ans). - Cheon Prénom au choix (F, 25 ans). - Cheon Prénom au choix (F, 22 ans). - Cheon Prénom au choix (F, 19 ans). - Cheon Minji (F, 17 ans).

HYEONMI TECHNOLOGIES Création : 14 mai 1971. Fondateur : Hyeon Jiho.

Autres dirigeants : Hyeon Prénom au choix (actuel, petit-fils du précédent).

Chaebol fondé dans les années 1970, Hyeonmi Technologies est spécialisé dans les secteurs de l'électronique et des communications. Sa filiale, Hyeonmi Electronics, est un leader mondial dans la fabrication d'appareils électroniques, dont des téléphones portables, télévisions, ordinateurs, tablettes, consoles de jeux vidéos, et batteries. Hyeonmi Technologies possède également son propre opérateur de télécommunications : MiTelecom, l'un des principaux fournisseurs coréens, ainsi qu'une chaîne de magasins d'électronique, Mi Store.

— FAMILLE HYEON

Suite au décès de Hyeon Jiho en fin d'année 2023, Hyeon Prénom au choix a hérité de l'entreprise de son grand-père en lieu et place de son propre père, disparu 17 ans plus tôt. Soudainement propulsé à la tête d'une des entreprises les plus puissantes du monde alors qu'il n'était âgé que de 28 ans, le jeune homme a du faire des concessions et abandonner sa vie d'avant, ses amis, ses rêves et ses passions, afin de faire tenir le cap à Hyeonmi Technologies face à la concurrence, et de permettre à sa mère et ses frères et sœurs de continuer à profiter de tout le luxe et le confort que l'entreprise familiale leur permet. Heureusement pour lui, son grand-père, particulièrement dur et autoritaire, lui a enseigné tout ce qu'il avait besoin de savoir avant de lâcher son dernier souffle. Si aujourd'hui, beaucoup de personnes se plaignent du changement de personnalité soudain de Hyeon Prénom au choix, personne ne peut imaginer la difficulté de sa situation et la lourdeur de son fardeau.

Hyeon Minseok (M, 1969-2006). Marié à Yoon Seonhee (F, 53 ans). - Hyeon Prénom au choix (M, 29 ans). Dirigeant actuel. Marié à Nom et prénom au choix (F, âge au choix). - Hyeon Prénom au choix (M, 26 ans). - Hyeon Prénom au choix (F, 22 ans).

[bulletproofscales]

BTS nsfw one shots

same page, same number on the scale (ot3 - taejikook - fat maknae line - hurt/comfort - misunderstandings )

a reason to eat (ot7 - jimin centric- fat jimin - kinda angsty at first - bpdy worship)

happy relationship weight (ot7 - seokjin centric - chubby seokjin - hurt/comfort - overstimulation)

what to do on free days (established ot7- namjoon x seokjin x yoongi x hoseok x jimin - namjoon centric - stuffing - overstimulation - sub/dom)

part 2 (namtaekook - public place)

dense and persistent (taekook - chubby jungkook - slowburn-ish - hurt/comfort-ish)

lunch break (yoonjin - obese yoongi - stuffing - pinning - public place - degrading)

BEANS (unfinished- taejin - obese seokjin - farmer taehyung- stuffing - sexual tension - nsfwish

seven days a week ( OT7 , Jungkok centric , fat ot6 )

draw me like one of your fat boys (taejoon - obese taehyung - professor namjoon - model taehyung - explicit - lots of flirting, pwp )

A nice middle ground (prequel draw me like one of your fat boys) (taekook - jikook ar ein an open relationship - mentions of jihope -kink discovery - stuffing - ripping clothes - getting stuck - breaking chairs - slight nsfw )

i wanna be keeping you warm (namgi , plumber porn cliche au , fat namjoon, breath play, body odor)

a spooky dick apointment 7/7 (ot7, hoseok centric, monster fucking, noncon-roleplays, every chapter is tagged individually)

i can smell your lies (minjoon , fat namjoon , sweat, underwear sniffing , handjobs)

pump the gas (collab with @jktummies !! namjin, a/b/o, fat seokjin, heat sex, strangers to lovers , stuffing , gas, body odor)

room for three ( jihopekook , threesome , rivalry , pwp , semi public space , fat jeon jungkook . part one in sfw! )

a helping knot (taegi, a/b/o , alpha taehyung, omega yoongi, heat sex, fat yoongi)

making ends meet by making clothes brust (sope , chubby yoongi , pwp , maid cafe , semi public sex , mentions of drug use/selling , sex work, stuffing , handjobs , d/s dynamics )

a shift in the balance (ot7 with vmin centric, feedee taehyung, feedee jimin, mutual weigth gain, kink discovery)

flowerworks (namkook , established relationship witch namjoon, miscommunication, hurt comfort, power play, magic sex) 

first times (drabble, taegi, trans FTM taehyung, fat yoongi, oral sex, eating out) 

a live reaction to old crushes (jikook , bjs , fat gamer jk , humilaition , body shaming )

a sudden promotion (jihope , maid/boss , degradation , dirty talk , d/s dynamics , body shaming )

ironically, no fucking before the aftercare (namkookmin , idol jimin , managers namkook , fat namkook , daddy kink , car sex , blowjob )

stuck between a chair and a (rock) hard place (2seok , fat hoseok , getting stuck in chairs , mocking, hurt comfort , body worship )

bury your instincts (jikook, omegaverse, noncon, forced submission , forced gaining , fat alpha jungkook )

feeding on instincts... and cake (yoonmin, hyrbids , omegaverse , pig hybrid jimin , snake hybrid yoongi , rapid weight gain , food play)