lipstick on my satin sheets - MYG | M
↣ you don’t know his name, you don’t have an image of him in your mind, all you can recall is the deep, inviting drawl that seems to hypnotize you whenever you’re speaking under the cover of darkness; the frenzy is what drives you to seek out the man behind the enticing voice, even if it goes against the rules.
pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: smut, fluff, s2l
word count: 4.8K
warnings/tags: college au, social experiment, strong language, hate to the color fuchsia, sensory deprivation, explicit smut- LOTS of dirty talk, heavy petting, finger sucking, breast kink, praise kink, hickeys, body worship, hair pulling, spanking, ear kissing/licking, handjob, fingering, grinding
a/n: inspired by Yoongi’s voice that has me in a trance every time I hear him speak
Smoothing down your sweaty palms over your jeans, you rush down the hallway and take the vacant seat at the end of the row, only to perk up and jog to the opposite end when you spot Jimin who points to the empty spot next to him.
You’re avoiding his curious eyes, sucking your lips in as you settle down next to him. Smiling at the girl who sits opposite you, the way you do every Saturday, you pat Jimin’s knee and wait for the coordinator to exit the office that’s behind the frosted door to your left.
As expected, Jimin nudges you with his shoulder, black hair brushing your cheek as he whispers.
“Fuchsia? I don’t think I have ever seen you wear fuchsia lipstick before.”
Who would know you better than your best friend?
Probably your mother. But no, she might think that you’re trying something new, a brighter shade of pink on your lips.
Jimin, your best friend, would argue that fuchsia is a color you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing, you would never reach for it or even spot the color on the shelf in the drugstore, let alone buy and wear it.
You just smile and go with your mother’s reasoning, which earns a quizzical look from him.
He mumbles your name exasperatedly, clearly judging your choice of lipstick.
“I know your partner won’t be able to see you in there but that doesn’t mean you should start wearing hideous colors and take advantage of that.”
You shrug, fidgeting with the hem of your beige blouse, “I think it looks cool.”
“Is it glow in the dark? Because you know that might be against the ru-“
You’re unable to fight the laughter that fills the muted hallway, covering your mouth with your palm when you see a few of the other students glaring at you.
“No! It’s not,” you whisper-shout, taking a quiet breath of relief when Jimin leans back in his chair, a sign that he dropped the subject of your lipstick shade choice. But the warning glance he sends your way gives you the idea that it’s going to be included in your conversation after the session.
And like every other Saturday, you can tell he’s just as anxious as you. You want to affirm that everything will go smoothly but you know that it’s against the rules of the experiment to discuss the sessions with ANYONE. No one should know what goes on behind those four walls. Well, you assume that the room has four walls, and that it’s not some circular space with two chairs placed in the center.
But that’s the whole point. You see nothing, feel nothing, except for the chair and warm air as you sit down and wait for your partner from College B to enter after your nerves have thoroughly eaten up at you.
This whole thing was Jimin’s idea. He saw a pamphlet laying on the ground as you were strolling through the quad one busy afternoon and decided that he should drag you into this ‘social experiment’ that the psychology majors were conducting for five Saturdays running from August into September. You thought it might be a refreshing experience after a gruelling exam season, a little fun.
But it’s causing you more pain and exhaustion than anything else.
You’re from College A, college names are not to be shared to prevent students from tracking down their partners, which will tamper with the results. You know your partner is from College B. That’s all you know about him and maybe that he’s really sweet and kind and enjoys listening to music, he has a toy poodle and lives with his roommate who has also signed up for this agonizing experiment.
Agonizing because you’re unable to get your partner’s voice, words, laugh out of your head. You dream of a faceless man who doesn’t go beyond a voice floating around you.
You know so much, yet so little about each other. How does one skip around the important details that may reveal your identity? It’s easier than you thought because you run through the words in your head a million times before they’re spoken. And he does the same.
When you were a little girl, the darkness was something you feared, like most kids. But as you grew older, you knew that it wasn’t the dark that you were afraid of, but rather what lurked in the darkness. Over fifteen years later, and you still sleep with the lamp on. Maybe the unmentioned fear was also one of the reasons why you gave in to Jimin, you want to overcome the unease whenever you’re shrouded by darkness.
But, these past three sessions have caused more agitation to bubble to the surface. Because you think you might be in love with the man whose name you may never know. Next Saturday will be the last session and it scares the hell out of you that this faceless person occupies a large fraction of your mind and is creeping into your heart too. You know he feels the same, at least, from what he tells you.
The darkness makes you feel confident, which is ironic.
Confident in what you say to him.
You wonder what he’s like outside of the darkness, when his voice is out in the open, under your gaze. Would his words remain unchanged?
That’s the spiral you go down every night after the first session. Agonizing.
That’s the reason for your fuchsia lipstick.
For a fleeting moment last week, he held your hand and it felt like you finally found the last piece to your puzzle.
The puzzle you’ve been struggling to complete for years.
You haven’t slept a wink last night conjuring up a plan to figure out who the man, with the alluring voice and heart-stirring personality, may be.
It might be dumb, but you’re hoping to leave a mark on his cheek by kissi—
“Good afternoon, Students.”
The coordinator, Mrs. Kang clasps her palms and stands at the end of the hallway, demanding everyone’s attention.
“I hope you’ve all had a good week,” she begins, eyes disappearing into slits as she smiles, you notice Jimin straighten his posture from the corner of your eye, “we’ve done things a little different this week, which would be next week’s procedure as well. Colleges B and C have their students waiting in the respective rooms, unlike the past Saturdays where you were the ones who had to wait.”
Her laugh does absolutely nothing to calm your nerves that seem to skyrocket after hearing her last statement.
You’re not accustomed to entering the room with him already waiting for you. It’s the opposite way around. How would you act this time? It’s going to be so awkward.
“Let’s go through the rules.”
You’re too overwrought to listen to the sprightly woman as she rushes through the points that you’ve read and heard a thousand times.
Everything will be fine. You’ll just laugh off the edginess like the previous sessions. It won’t be weird. You know that you’re overreacting. Perhaps you’re a bit more nervous than before because you have a plan for today.
“One more thing, you’re allowed to touch one another. A student emailed me last night just to query the rules of physical contact during the session.”
Bless that student. Not like he needed to ask the coordinator before he actually touched you. Warmth fills your cheeks.
“Remember, you leave via the east wing, and they exit through the west.”
Bless her for that piece of information.
“Alright students, I hope you all have fun,” she holds up a bony finger, “all rules taken into consideration.”
She nods to the student at the end of the row, and they shuffle down the opposite end of the hallway. Each of you watch with eager eyes as they disappear around the corner.
One by one, the students walk, some skip and jog, to the end of the hallway, impatient to meet their nameless friends.
You wonder what it must be like for each of them, you wonder if they’ve also developed a similar bond to the one you and your partner share. You’re blushing, bile rising in your throat when you realize that you’re going to be meeting him after a week. You try to keep the frustrating thought that you won’t see his varying facial expressions, his smile, his frown, the crinkle in his eyes as he speaks, out of your mind.
Jimin’s hold on your hand lingers as he shoots you an encouraging smile.
“See you later.”
You wave him off, taking a deep breath. It’s your turn next.
As you’re padding down the brightly lit hallway, you wonder how the results for the sessions are recorded. Is there a speaker in the room? Is there some kind one-way window? Like the ones they have in police stations? But that would require light to work. With technology these days, anything is possible.
What is the aim of the experiment? What are they testing?
Before you know it, you reach room 106, and Yeji, one of the psychology majors, asks you to spin around and enter the room backward. She smiles when she realizes that you didn’t really need to be instructed. She shoots you a thumbs up and holds the door open.
“After an hour, you’ll hear three knocks. Your partner would need to turn his chair around as you exit the room. Be careful of your step.”
You take four steps backward before she closes the door and you’re met with pitch black.
It’s funny how the majority of this social experiment is based on trust. Trust between the test subjects and the conductors of the experiment.
The darkness manages to steal your breath away, each time. You can’t even see your own hand or make out any shape or outline in front of you. It smells floral in the room, like roses and as you spin around, the familiar scent of his cologne drowns out any other smell.
Two steps forward and you grasp onto the back of the chair, hands fighting with the air as you sit down with a huff.
The low chuckle from beside you sends a thrill down your spine.
“Hey,” you reply shyly, eyes shut despite being surrounded by black even if you keep them open, unable to keep the goofy grin off your face.
“How have you been?”
The raspy voice asks. You tuck your hair behind your ear, folding one leg over the other to get comfortable.
“Okay. Been busy with assignments and stuff. What about you?”
He sighs, and you can hear shuffling. It sounds like he’s adjusting his jacket, or it could be cargo pants.
“Tired. I…Work has been tiring.”
You nod like an idiot, knowing he can’t see you.
“Ah. I’m…sorry. Work has been pretty shitty for me too.”
“I think we deserve a break from all the stress, what do you think?”
You giggle, brushing your hair over your shoulder as you lean back in the plastic chair that seems a bit unsteady against the flooring.
“Yeah. We deserve a vacation. A road trip, to a beachy town.”
“You like the beach?”
“Mhm,” you nod again, one nod away from slapping yourself, fingers curling around the armrest, “love it. My friends and I take any chance we can get to visit the beach. Just to sit and watch the waves.”
“Oh,” he laughs, “I thought you might be the competitive type when you visit the beach. You know, the ones who sport bikinis and beat their friends at volleyball.”
“Me in a bikini?”
Your cheeks heat, wanting to tease him about imagining you in a bikini. But this isn’t a normal situation. He doesn’t even know what you look like.
You hear him suck a breath in, then he’s rushing to fill the silence.
“I heard the slowed and reverb version you told me about.”
“I like the original better.”
You scoff, “really? I felt like you could hear the background vocals better.”
“Maybe. But I don’t really enjoy listening to slowed and reverb songs.”
“I respect that.”
“I only listened to it because you suggested.”
The goofy smile is back, ankles crossing and uncrossing, “yeah?”
“Yeah,” he responds with a playful lilt to his gruff voice.
That feeling returns. The one where you just want to jump his bones and stick your tongue down his throat.
“Slowed and reverb songs either get you depressed or horny,” you chuckle, only acknowledging your choice of words after you hear his throaty laugh.
“How do you feel when you listen to that song slowed and reverbed?”
You cock an eyebrow, wondering if you should lie or be honest. You go for the latter.
He’s quiet for a while and you think you may have crossed the line. But the next thing he says makes you feel a tiny bit appreciative of the fact that he can’t see the way you’re clenching your thighs together.
“I’ll think of you the next time I listen to it…I’m always thinking of you. Your voice.”
You gulp, air rushing through your nostrils, “me too.”
“Why is life so fucking hard?!”
You hear a small banging sound, and you think he must’ve stomped his foot on the floor, you chuckle at his small tantrum.
Your mouth clamps shut when you feel a hand reach for yours.
“The last time I felt like time flew and I didn’t have enough time to tell you this. I also didn’t have the balls,” he mumbles the last part, heat from his palm spreading to the back of your hand, heart pounding in your chest.
He continues after taking in a shuddering breath, a smile graces your lips when you realize that he’s just as nervous as you.
“I’ve never met anyone like you. Even if we’ve only met like four times now and I didn’t even…really…fuck…meet you.”
You open your mouth to tell him that you understand but he cuts you off.
“And I have no idea what these fuckers are up to. If this is some kind of dating experiment or if they put something in the air…But I know that I feel for you. And it’s like…we just click. I want you to know that the conversations we’ve had in those three hours replay in my head.”
A frustrated groan leaves your lips because you so badly want to see the sincerity in his eyes just as you’re hearing it in his tone. His voice has you weak in the knees, stomach twisting, heart fluttering in your chest.
You flip his hand over and press your palm to his, slowly letting your fingers lock.
“I feel the same way.”
Deciding to put your plan into action, you lean forward, and you think your nose meets his hair, the scent of coconut drowns out his cologne. You nose through the strands to reach his ear, then move a bit to the side to land a noisy kiss on his cheek, knowing that a bright pink stain will be left in its wake, just as you’ve schemed.
You gasp a bit when you feel a finger poke your forehead, travelling down the slope of your nose, to your cupid’s bow, tugging on your bottom lip to land on your chin.
“I think about you all the time. What you would look like. What you would feel like.”
His fingers trace the line of your jaw, and you’re stock still, relishing in his warm touch, syrupy voice a little louder in your ears now that you feel him move closer to you, heart beating thunderously, blood rushing to your ears.
“Me too,” is all you can say, especially when his fingers return to your lips.
“Your lips are so soft.”
In response, you part your lips a bit and he takes it as an invitation to let them slide into your mouth and he moans. He moans and you think the cogs are going loose in your brain.
You want to hear more of his moans, so you swirl your tongue around the digits, and he draws little circles on the wet muscle, muttering a low ‘fuck’ when he withdraws his fingers and your teeth catch on the tips.
Your hands slide along his shoulders tentatively, feeling the cool material of his jacket, his broad shoulders, as you reach the curves of his neck. One hand mimics his action of gliding from his forehead down the slope of his nose. You attempt to envision the shape, the size and you skim his cupid’s bow, imagining the pretty dip in the center that molds his lips which feel like petals under your touch.
His thumb rubs across your cheek, and you can feel his breath waft over your face, breath hitching when his nose touches yours.
“Can I kiss you?”
You nod, and you might kick yourself, but you think he felt the movement because his lips meet yours in a searing kiss, lips moving over yours languidly. The sensation of his hands cupping your face, low moans rumbling into your mouth, wet mouth pressed to yours, has you feeling like you’re about to combust, but nothing can prepare you for the hot licks of his tongue. Your whines and whimpers are swallowed by his hungry mouth.
When you pull away, lungs straining for air, he grabs your hips and lifts you onto his lap, hands just as ravenous as yours, feeling every inch of your skin.
You salivate at the thought of his toned chest being flush against yours, muscular arms wrapping around you, holding you close. You’re lightheaded, dizzy, feeling like your heart might fly away.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me? You’re driving me crazy.”
“No,” your arms encircle his neck, leaning down to mouth at the skin below his ear, “you drive me crazy.”
His words get caught his throat when your tongue wets the shell of his ear, teeth nipping at his earlobe, lips soothing the burn.
“Shit,” he rasps, one hand rubbing your inner thigh while the other massages your scalp,
“you smell so fucking good. Feel so fucking good.”
You lick your lips and tilt his head to repeat your ministrations on his other ear, warm cheeks pressed together as your tongue dips into his ear, breath kissing the wet flesh, swollen lips and tongue sucking lewdly on the heated skin.
The tug between your legs becomes a nagging ache when he tugs on your hair and tilts your head up, lips gliding down the column of your neck, resting between your collarbones.
“I want to cover your pretty skin in my marks,” his palm rests on your lower back, right above your ass, “can I do that? It’s fine if—”
“Yes. Yes, please,” your neck begins to ache from the angle, and you urge him on by squeezing his nape, “do it.”
He mouths at your neck, and it isn’t long before you feel the sting of his teeth tugging on your skin, lips suckling harshly, moans filling the balmy air.
“You sound so sweet,” his tightens his hold on your hair and speaks against your lips, “I want to hear more of you.”
“Touch me,” you get off his lap to stand between his knees, guiding his hands to your ass cheeks, “you can touch me.”
The low, husky chuckle has your panties soaked in an instant, resting your hand on his shoulder for support as he kneads the meat of your ass.
“Want me to touch you? Hmm?”
One of his hands slide under the material of your cheesecloth blouse, dexterous fingers pulling the cups of your bra to rest under your boobs.
“Fuck,” he whispers, thumb and forefinger twisting your erect nipple, palm cupping the flesh, “so fucking sexy. Better than I imagined.”
You throw your head back when he pulls you closer, chin pressing into your stomach as he smacks your ass and rolls your pebbled nipple between his fingers. You’re trying, desperately, to imagine the smirk you hear in his voice as he stares up at you.
“What else do you want me to do to you?”
“I want…I want you touch me.”
“I am touching you,” he laughs, pulling your abused nipple then moving to the other, applying more pressure on the bud.
“Mhmm,” you bite your lip when his hand travels further down between the globes of your ass, spreading your legs a bit for his access, wanting nothing more than to feel his fingers in the drenched spot at the apex of your thighs.
“I’ll take my time with you. Marking every inch of your body until I’m satisfied, then fuck you until you’re all sweaty for me. Fuck you however I want, wherever I want.”
You fall forward when he cups your pussy through the denim material, both hands resting on his shoulders now, rutting your hips for more of his touch. His words have you searching for friction, wanting him to touch you there.
“Would you like that? Me fucking you on the bed, on my couch, on my kitchen floor, on the table, bent over the counter.”
“Yes,” you whine, panting now that he’s applying more pressure on your core.
“You’re fucking soaked for me. I can feel it, even through this thick material,” he growls, making fast work of unbuttoning your jeans and pulling down the zipper.
A thought crosses your mind and your eyes snap open to be met with the darkness, reality pouring in. Your fingers curl around his wrists to stop him, hearing a small, surprised sound from him that makes you giggle a bit.
“What if they can see us or hear us?”
“Then we’ll give them a nice show, yeah?”
He pulls you down onto his lap, spreading his legs so you’re comfortable, you rest your palm on his chest, nosing along his sharp jawline.
“Unless you don’t want to? It’s understandable.”
“No,” you bend down to kiss his lips but end up kissing the tip of his nose, “I want to.”
“Yeah,” you grin, feeling his arm slither around your waist, fingers tracing the hem of your jeans.
“Let’s continue,” he drawls, fingers dipping into your jeans and panties, kicking your legs open as you hold on to his shoulders, eyes scrunching shut when he parts your sticky folds.
He hums, the sound reverberating off the walls as he circles your clit with his thumb, index and ring finger prodding at your slit, gathering your juices to spread all over your swollen folds.
“So fucking wet. You like this, don’t you? Me making you feel good. A stranger, in the dark, with nothing but my body and words to hold on to.”
“Yes,” your hips buck involuntarily when he starts to flick your clit from side to side, more of your slick pools and he’s quick to collect it on the calloused pads of his fingers.
“You smell so good,” his forehead rests against your cheek, hot breath causing you to shiver, panting as he sinks his index finger into you, “bet you taste even better.”
“Fuck,” you mewl, rolling your hips into his palm as he sinks his middle finger into your heat, both his digits massaging your quivering walls.
“I want to taste you so bad. I know you’d love my tongue on your pussy, working you up until you’re filling my mouth then having you begging for me to stop. I know I won’t get enough of your sweet cunt.”
“Fa-Faster,” whines break from your chest, burying your face in his neck as you grind into his hand, feeling the beginnings of your high twist and knot in your abdomen.
His long fingers hook into your pussy, finding that sweet spot that has you trembling in his hold with ease, dragging along your ridged walls.
Your hand slips from his chest and rests on his crotch, you gasp when you feel his massive erection straining in the soft material of his pants.
Stilling your hips while his fingers continue to stretch you open, you reach into his pants and tug at his heavy cock, smearing the precum along his shaft, twisting your palm with each upstroke, his groans adding to your arousal.
“Fuck, your hand feels so good,” you envisage his parted lips, eyes closed, head thrown back as he fucks into your fist, hand laying limp in your panties.
“You feel so good,” you moan, relishing in the sounds he’s making, guttural and raw, “want to take your cock in my mouth.”
“Fuck,” he grits out, chasing his high, “want your pretty lips around my fat cock.”
“Want to choke on your cock,” you whisper, teeth piercing into the skin of his neck.
With the way his cock twitches in your palm, moans becoming louder, you can tell he’s close. You retract your hand from inside his pants and throw your leg over his lap, straddling him, both his hands gripping your ass, catching up on the idea as you position your throbbing pussy over his cock.
Breaths mingling, foreheads pressed together, you chase your highs, moaning into each other’s mouths as you grind against his cock, meeting each glide, clit pulsating with each press of his thick length, hole clenching uncontrollably.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a passionate kiss, moaning unabashedly, hips knocking against each other as you cum, shuddering in pleasure.
He whimpers against your mouth, trying to catch his breath just as you’re doing the same.
“That did nothing to help,” he pants, head hitting your shoulder.
Your fingers card through the soft strands of his hair, perplexed.
“Now I want you more than ever.”
Before you can answer, three knocks interrupt the tender moment and you squirm off his lap, adjusting your clothes and rushing out the door in panic.
Yeji is surprised when she sees you, eyes wide when she takes in your dishevelled state. You try to rush past her, but she grabs your arm. Your eyes are glued to the floor as she informs you that you were the last ones.
Thanking her, you sprint down the hallway, palm on your chest, heart still racing from earlier as you all but leap down the stairs to make it to the east wing in time.
In time, to hopefully see him.
To spot the pink mark on his cheek.
Things went…a lot differently than you expected and you’re not mad at all. You hide behind the stairwell wall when you see a guy wearing a pink and white tie-dye shirt, leaning against the wall near the exit.
Your throat is dry, cool air filling your lungs, palm on your hip as you try to take in the oxygen your lungs are screaming for.
Your lips sting and your fingers reach up to brush the swollen flesh, a giddy smile splitting your face. But the heart-breaking thought that you still don’t have a face or name to the voice causes the corners of your mouth to sag.
You hope that’ll change. Any minute now.
The guy with the pink shirt yells at someone who’s out of your line of sight, laughing like a mad man.
“What the fuck happened to you?!”
Your eyebrows furrow, waiting for that person to emerge. A guy with a green jacket, who’s back is facing you, waddles to the other guy, shoving him as he laughs hysterically.
“Shut the fuck up, Hobi.”
Your breath hitches. You would recognize that voice anywhere, in a heartbeat.
“I’m probably the only one from our college who’s making progress.”
You narrow your eyes to get a better view from where you’re standing, seeing him rub his face with the heel of his palm.
That voice is the one that rings in your head when you’re falling asleep. The same voice you hear when you wake up. And in between.
But you’re still unsure if it’s him.
Heart beginning to pick up the pace again, you panic when they start to walk toward the exit.
Adrenalin surging through your veins, you bolt in their direction and grab green jacket guy’s arm. The sight that greets you is a very grumpy man, scowl and piercing eyes causing you to drop his hand.
When he turns fully, his friend stopping at the sliding door to watch, you see the pink smudge not only on his cheek, but all over his face and neck, darker patches on his neck.
Pouty lips, cat-like eyes, sandy blond hair, pale skin, much taller than you, long, bony fingers, and a toned build.
That’s what you need to ingrain in your memory.
You’re even more hypnotized by the hazy look in his eyes.
He takes a step forward, scowl morphing into a smile as he scans your face, gaze lingering on your neck, biting on his bottom lip as his eyes rake down your figure. His scent begins to cloud your mind for the second time tonight.
“You’re more beautiful than I imagined.”
a/n: please don’t feel shy to send in feedback, hearing your thoughts serve as motivation :)
talk to my characters
taglist: @ggukkieland @moonchild1 @mwitsmejk @fancycollectormoon @nglmrk @bex-92br @taeslarityy @helenazbmrskai @deliciouslydisturbed365
315 notes · View notes
Next Life | kth (m)
☆ summary: Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night.
☆ pairing: husband!tae x wife!reader
☆ genre: angst, smut.
☆ warning: sexual content, angst
☆ word count: 4k
☆a/n: Finally this is done. Thank you so much @jkiddingjeon for beta-ing the fic, it meant A LOT. I really love this fic and I hope you enjoy it too. ngl it's a pretty heartbreaking fic so get ready for some ANGST.
It’s always adjacent to each other. Something that’s always there when the other is present. It also changes people. How it makes people go from loving someone and being best friends with someone to trying everything they can to pull them down, to take them out.
You’d say you can relate to it. In more ways than one. You had seen your fair share of people going from loving them unconditionally to talking shit about them the next day. Divorce was one of them. All the promises and vows made of staying through health and sickness, through good and bad, thrown out of the window.
You thought of it as one of the most heartbreaking things and now you were here. Doing the exact thing as you watched the clock tick by, thinking of ways and excuses to get you out of this marriage. This marriage that ended everything. It hadn’t always been like this. No, you were in love. You were so madly in love that if anyone had told you you’d stand in this place today you’d not believe it.
You are still in love. So madly in love but the difference being you want it to end. Maybe that way you’d find each other again.
As time went by, you stood by the railing of your balcony. The bright light of the city shined underneath you as you thought Tomorrow would be it. The end of what once was seen as a beautiful love story by not only you but by many others. The final chapter.
Maybe love and hate stood adjacent to each other but you could never hate him.
And so you stood there, taking it all in, you thought about where it went wrong.
7 months ago
“I can’t believe you think that!” you shouted, hands up in the air as you walked back into the apartment, him following you behind.
“Well I wouldn’t if you kept your distance!” he said, raising his voice.
“Oh my god. One hug. It was one hug. And that too because he was leaving.”
“It didn’t look like one,” he argued back.
“Are you freaking kidding me right now? Nothing happened, you know that.” you said trying to calm yourself down.
“Stop trying to argue with me all the fucking time.” he bit back.
“Oh, I am arguing? You were the one who started it.” You took long strides towards him.
“You were the one who accused his wife of cheating although you have no proof whatsoever” you gritted through your teeth as your finger poked his chest.
He let out a loud groan as you run your hands through your hair. “You know what, Taehyung? You can stay here. I’m leaving.” and with that you grabbed your purse and keys and strode out the door, slamming it behind.
The love of your life. You met him in college. As cliché as it sounds, he was the heartthrob with his extremely good looks and his unbelievable flirting skills. You weren’t supposed to know him at all if you thought about it.
Your college held its annual fest, and you were the head of the management. You had stumbled across him when he had come to drop off some supplies instead of his best friend. You got into a small quarrel when he commented on how you were the head of the management when you were only a freshman and questioned your ability to pull the entire thing off when it was only three days from the fest and not even one percent of anything was done.
You got into a bet with him as you made him promise you that he’d treat you to something of your choice if you pulled it off. Nevertheless, you pulled the entire thing off within the next two days, proving him wrong. As a promise, he treated you to something really expensive(of course you had picked it) and then swore to never question your ability.
You started seeing more of him, with his surprise visits to your class (which usually ended up with girls surrounding you asking how you knew him) or him coming to your seat in the cafeteria just to give you some new juice he got for you. Sometimes he’d ask you to come to one of his basketball matches and then took you to dinner afterward.
You felt your heartbeat increasing every time you saw him or heard his name in fact, and before you knew it, you were confessing to him, putting your heart on the line.
The day you confessed, you ran out before he could even reply. Too scared to be rejected. But Taehyung did something you’d never expect. He brought you to an amusement park, took you to dinner, and then confessed to you with thousands of chocolate (literally).
You both had your fair share of arguments and then makeup sex. Mind-blowing sex to be exact.
Your relationship with Taehyung was built on trust. He’d be there waiting for you every time you came home late and vice versa. You’d be at all of his games. You’d go to every party, hang out with your friends.
Once he graduated, he’d wait to pick you up every day. Every day you’d go to your favorite café, with your friends, complete assignments and projects, argue about who won the last UNO game, girls vs boys.
He spent every hour with you when you struggled with your dream job and you did the same. When you finally did get the job, he asked you to marry him. You nodded then and there. Tears escaped, phone calls were made. Everyone came to the engagement party and then the wedding and you truly thought everything you ever wanted was there. Your family, your friends, his friends, him.
But what you didn’t know then was what followed after. Just like promises are made, they are broken. Trust is broken and the bond doesn’t stay.
The first two years were bliss. You went to Paris for your honeymoon and then to New York. Yes, New York for your honeymoon. You experienced the love in Paris and the rush in New York.
You spent most of the days in Paris, going to spots of attractions, enjoying the food in the café, walking around the streets drunk and completely in love, having late night sex, morning sex, just lots of sex to be exact.
But in New York, you spent your days going to Times Square, Bars, and Pubs had ‘the’ New York pizza and cheesecakes and hotdogs and whatnot. Went shopping and sightseeing. Roamed around the streets at night, met so many people.
You believed you had found what you had been looking for all your life. Someone to go to romantic dinners and the craziest parties with.
But what followed was something you didn’t think would happen. Every marriage has its ups and downs. You had to. But then it started.
Every party would become an excuse to start arguments, every late night at work would lead to assumptions. At first, you thought it would be fine. Talking would help, it was always the key for the both of you but lately, every time you spoke or tried to solve the issues, it would end in huge fights, sometimes followed by sex, or even if not sex, you’d stop talking to each other and then one day pretend nothing happened.
Although in heels you walked around the park near your apartment. ‘It will be fine’ you told yourself as you tried not to break down. Deciding it would not be a good idea to go anywhere at that hour, you sat by a bench.
The cold wind hit you as a shiver ran down your body, the thin wine slip dress doing nothing to stop it. The screen of your phone lit up as you saw multiple texts from Taehyung. A part of you was happy that he cared enough to text you. You clicked on his profile as a series of texts came up.
Tae: where are you?
Tae: come on Y/N, don’t be stupid.
Tae: it’s really late. where the fuck are you?
Tae: baby, you’re scaring me.
Sighing you got up and made your way out of the park. Since you lived in a complex, it didn’t take you too long to walk. As you opened the keys, you saw Taehyung pacing around the living room. “Where are my keys?” he muttered to himself, not noticing your presence.
A clinking sound made Taehyung look up as the keys hit the ceramic bowl on the kitchen top. “Where were you?” he asked, trying to control his anger. You didn’t answer him as you took off the heels, internally sighing when the cold floor hit your barefoot. “Are you seriously gonna ignore me? I asked where the fuck were you?” he pulled you by your wrists stopping you from going further. “Don’t do this.” you gritted through your teeth as you harshly pulled away before going inside your shared bedroom.
You slipped out of the dress and you got inside the shower, the hot water touching your skin as you stood there. No matter how much you tried not to think about it, you always went back. Where did it go wrong?
You changed into shorts and one of Taehyung’s oversized shirts as it reached mid-thigh. Getting inside the covers, you relaxed, the cool sensation of your bedsheet and covers calming you somehow as you turned towards the glass wall.
You heard a sigh as Taehyung got inside the room. He got inside the covers and stared at your back as you tried to keep calm. You felt an arm wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer, back colliding with his chest, nuzzling his face at the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” his voice came muffled as you felt the vibrations on your neck.
“I really am.” he said, taking a deep breath pulling you closer if that was possible. You sighed, turning to him.
“I felt really cheap, you know” you said, hands reaching to cup his face. “I’m so sorry baby.” he sighed, closing his eyes as you ran your hand through his hair. “I know.”
He pressed a kiss on your lips as you pulled him closer, hands wrapping around his neck. You sighed into the kiss as his lips trailed down towards your collarbone, sucking and nipping then. Soon enough he was inside you as he went on an animalistic pace. “Do you think he can fuck you like this?” he growled. You ignored him as you knew you were close, focusing on your climax. You came within the next few minutes as he rubbed your clit while thrusting.
Later on, he lapped up the spilled contents lazily as you screamed his name, your cries stroking his ego.
He wrapped an arm around your naked waist as he fell asleep on his stomach, head on your chest, legs tangled over your naked ones. You stroked his hair as you stared at the ceiling, his words ringing in your ear ‘Do you think he can fuck you like this?’
A small realization crept inside your head. He was never gonna trust you.
He stirred in his sleep, pulling you closer, he pressed an open-mouth kiss above the swell of your breast in his sleep. Releasing a long sigh, you kissed his head, quickly pushing the thought aside.
That was the first mistake.
“I love you so much,” you said.
You pulled the robe over your body tightly, a coffee cup in your hand. Picking up your phone you looked at the time. 3:08 am it read. The city still buzzed with life. The cold breeze hit your face soothingly as you closed your eyes. Only if you had done something before, things wouldn’t have gone wrong.
4 months ago
Your phone buzzed as you frustratedly rubbed your face. You dreaded picking up the call, not wanting to have to shout again. Things had been gradually worsening between you and Taehyung. Late-night fights, coming home drunk, not talking to each other for weeks had become a common thing nowadays and no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you both tried to co-operate, you didn’t seem to escape it.
“You should talk to him.” Ae-ra said, handing you a cup of tea.
You never liked tea. You were more of a coffee person. You preferred the rush, the adrenaline. But nowadays, you were tired. Tired of doing the same thing over and over again. Having the same quarrels and fights over and over again. Tea seemed to calm you.
“And then what? Get into another fight?”
“You know what I mean, babe.” She said as she rubbed your arm soothingly.
“Maybe later. I cannot deal with him now.” you sipped on the cup.
What you didn’t know was that “later” would come that fast. You went back to your apartment to get more of your clothes. You planned on going at night, when he was most probably out with his friends or whoever kept him busy nowadays. But to your surprise, he was there.
You opened the main door, using the key you had with you to meet with his laying figure on the couch. His head shot up at the sound of the door, eyes meeting each other. He looked drained, hair messy and bags under his eyes. You cursed under your breath, debating if you should just go back to Ae-ra’s place and come later for your clothes.
“Look who’s here.” he scoffed as he got up from the couch.
Deciding on the former, you walked past him without taking another glance, into your shared bedroom. Taking a bag out, you shoved as many clothes as possible wanting to stay away from this mess. “Are you gonna ignore me now?” you heard him as he entered the room.
You zipped up the chain as you walked towards the door wanting to leave. He grabbed your hand before you could go any further. He felt so scared when he saw you packing your stuff, so much that it suffocated him. “Fucking answer me.” his voice raised as he stared at you.
Taehyung’s eyes softened as he saw the dry tears on your cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to pull you close and never let go. To talk to you and tell you it would be fine, that you would figure it out together.
As he saw your tired eyes, glossy as you tried to keep your composure, he wanted to kiss you so badly and keep you tucked away from every bad thing; ever, even himself if he was bad for you.
And maybe he would have done that. Hugged you and kissed you. Kept you in his arms if you didn’t start talking.
“Leave me the fuck alone.” you pulled away harshly. “You know what? Yes, I am ignoring you and gladly will.”
“What is wrong with you? You cannot just come and go like that.” he said, hands gesturing to your bag.
“I can and I will. You cannot stop me” you clarified.
“ Yes, I can. I am your husband for god’s sake.” a frustrated tone laced his words.
“Husband?” you scoffed. “When were you a good husband? Where did this go when I stayed up till dawn every day waiting for you?”
“You know how hectic things have been at work.” he looked at you knowingly.
“That doesn’t mean you’d stop spending time with me!” you yelled.
You knew you were being unreasonable. Things really were hectic at work for him. But you couldn’t help but feel lonely when you came home after a long day to an empty and cold apartment and then stayed up every day almost all night for your husband. You felt so neglected when he’d come home and go to sleep straight away without saying anything.
All the doubts about your marriage slowly were coming true and you wanted nothing more than to prove it wrong. But talking about it led to arguments with Taehyung. So you decided to stay away from home, so that you didn’t have to think about it, to begin with.
That was the second mistake.
“You are going nowhere.” Taehyung took the bag from your hand and walked towards the bed. “You’ll stay at home.”
“Home?” a humorless chuckle left your throat. “I will go anywhere I want, but home.”
“I mean it Y/N. Stop acting like a kid. Go wash up and come to bed.” he sighed.
“I’m not staying” you concluded, ready to leave your stuff behind as you turned.
You felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist as he stuffed his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. A tear left your eyes, followed by streams, and for some reason, your heart broke, it felt like he was pulling you apart from inside.
You felt his warm breath as he mumbled something. He pressed you towards him as you silently cried.
Later that night, as he fucked you slowly, something different than his usual dominating aura, your heart ached, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. He kissed you ever so passionately, that you cried.
Something told you that it would be over soon, so you hugged him as close as you could when he slept. You cried as he hugged you in his sleep like you would go away if he didn’t have you in his arms.
“I love you so much,” he mumbled in his sleep.
That’s when you realized how bad the entire situation was. How bad you were for him just like he was for you. How bad this marriage was.
And what followed after confirmed everything you ever doubted.
2 months ago
“You think I didn’t see you?” you yelled.
“What are you talking about?” he looked curious.
“Oh sure, play the good guy, make me look bad, why don’t you?” you scoffed.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” he repeated. “How would you? You thought you were good enough to keep it away from me.” you said. His eyebrows crashed as he tried to understand. “I saw you with her. Maybe that’s why you were always late. You were too busy fucking her.” a bitterness stayed in your mouth. “Are you kidding me?” he said as he raked his fingers through his hair.
“You are accusing me of cheating, Y/N? You?” he scoffed. “Don’t think I forgot about the party.”
“Oh my god. You were never going to believe me, were you?” you looked at him with a glint in your eyes.
“You are being paranoid Y/N,” he said calmly.
“You know what? Maybe I will go to him. The guy you accused me of cheating. Maybe I will let him fuck me. Clear all your doubts and make it true!” you were screaming now.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, voice so calm maybe you would have been scared if you were thinking straight.
“Neither can I.” you said as you walked out of the house.
The next day when you woke up, you felt bad for yelling at him. So you decided to go back and talk to him. And maybe you would have if fate didn’t have anything else planned.
As you walked into the house, you saw a man sitting on your couch, Taehyung at his side as paper lay in front of him. The man looked at you briefly before turning back to Taehyung. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Lee.” he said as he shook hands with the man. The man nodded.
Before leaving, he looked at you, “See you in court.”
You furrowed your brows before realization hit you. “Tae, what did he mean by that?”
He kept quiet as he gathered the papers. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” you tried again. Taehyung got up as he handed you the papers, then went to the bedroom. You stared at them as you couldn’t process anything.
You cannot get divorced. You cannot live without him.
You walked inside the room as you saw him looking out. “Tae, we can talk, right? You don’t mean this.” your voice shook.
Walking up to him you wrapped your arms around his, face buried in his back as you mumbled “This is a joke, right?”
You heard his sigh before he turned to you, eyes glossy. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“We won’t. We’ll figure it out. We don’t have to do this.” you went on.
“No, no, you don’t understand. You are out of your mind. We can’t get divorced.”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot do this anymore.” he said,
You looked at him. “Why are you saying it as if it is all my fault?”
“I don’t mean that.”
“You absolutely mean that. Your face says it all.” you gestured toward him. “Oh. You really are gonna do this?” you said as he rubbed his face.
“Well, fuck you, Kim Taehyung. You can do whatever you want. You can blame me all you want but you and I both know the minute I walk out, you are going to regret this.”
“You can keep going for my heart and put all this on me, but you will miss me to your bone the minute this is over.” you said as you stormed off.
That night, you went back to Ae-ra’s place. You screamed at the sky pretending it was him while he stayed awake that night as he looked at the sky. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I love you so much” he said, tears freely falling.
It really was over. All your doubts came true. Your marriage ended. Maybe it was for the better. ‘You’re being paranoid’ he said. He was right. You became paranoid.
You wiped the single tear and looked at the sky, soft light spread across as the birds sang. 5:00 am
You picked out the attire you were going to wear to the court. Your phone buzzed as you picked it up. It was Ae-ra. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll get through it. she said.
You went to the court that day. You watched him as he entered the room, a black tux hugging his frame. He had become more buff than he was the last time you saw him two months ago. As he ran his fingers through his hair, his shoulder blades flexed. The same shoulder blades that had your nail marks reminding the night before from every morning you’ve spent together. You smiled at that memory.
Soon the judge walked in and the process went on.
At one point in your relationship with him, assuming was something you both picked up. Long gone was the trust which was the key in your relationship. Maybe it was for the better. You both were paranoid; assumptions feeding more into it.
But what you both gradually became, was bad for each other. Not at the beginning of your relationship, but somewhere in the middle, it went out of hand. Maybe if you spoke to each other more, maybe if you hadn’t pushed your thoughts the first day it came, then maybe you wouldn’t be here. But everything happens for a reason.
Kim Taehyung was the heartthrob of the campus. Kim Taehyung was the first person you confessed you loved. He was the first person who heard ‘I love you’ from you. He was your first love.
As the saying goes, some people are in our lives, just to teach us a lesson. Good and Bad. Kim Taehyung was that for you. You were still in love with him. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and yours did. You loved him more than you did before. And so maybe letting him go was easy. You were bad for him and he was bad for you. But that didn’t stop you from loving him.
And that didn’t stop him from loving you as you sat at the courthouse, as he looked at your face when it was over, as he lay in his bed alone that night.
Maybe you weren’t meant to be. Or maybe you were, but you didn’t know-how. But it was fine. And maybe as time goes by, it would hurt less.
Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night.
118 notes · View notes
let’s say the boys secretly read BTS fanfics.
what do you think would be each member’s go-to trope(s) or AU(s) or kink(s) or whatever to read?
like, for example, maybe you think yoongi would actively seek for friends-to-lovers aus. or you think Jimin would actively seek for fantasy aus. or seokjin would actively seek for exes-to-lovers aus with unprotected sex in the tags. maybe you think hoseok would seek for racer aus.
and why do you think that?
Ooooh, I LOVE THIS! We already know Yoongi's written them, so they must have stumbled upon at least one or two. Thanks for the ask! Here's my take on the tropes, AUs, and kinks for each member. Included are some examples of BTS fics that come to mind, plus tags and links to check out!
Q: Namjoon's go-to fic trope / AU / kink?
A: Strangers to Lovers / Slice of Life, especially Magical Realism AUs / Gods, Angels, Demons AU / Non-Linear Storytelling / S&M
Namjoon's literary expertise guides him into fics that are out of the ordinary. He likes the idea that people start off as strangers and go on some kind of exporation together, only to find that they want that bond to continue once their journey is over. And throughout that journey, they have some truly out-of-this-world experiences, whether through the bend of time and space, or in revelations of love. What he really loves are fics that play around with structure. He enjoys slice-of-life AUs in which he gets to learn something new. Especially when BDSM comes into play. He's so intrigued. Spanking, choking, collars, leather, lace. That dark kind of sensuality. Throw it into the mix. He wants to see what happens. He also likes non-linear storytelling, with non-human characters, especially ones who are exploring metaphysical aspects like love, or morality. A philosophical, curious fanfic reader, just like he is with everything else. (Examples: @whatifyoulivelikethat's Pause, Roomie's / @mochilatae's The Roommate: Namjoon, @purgatorywriter's Falling into Sin)
Q: Jin's go-to fic trope / AU / kink?
A: PWP / Slice of Life / Ass, Breast, and Nipple Play
Jin revels in stories that help him get to where he wants to go 😉 If his ears are red when he's on his phone while he's waiting for water to boil, or when it's someone else's turn to drive, and you'll know he's reading something downright debaucherous. T&A, all day, every day. Give him that vivid, graphic, imagery. He wants to look, feel, grab, taste, pinch, thrust, come. Tell him exactly what angle. Exactly how loud. Double points if he gets to be the main character. Triple points if he's showing off his own skillset. Stories that smirk knowingly, the same way he does. But his secret? His faves -- the ones that earn likes, reblogs, or bookmarks in his anonymous collection -- are stories that have passion and heart, that have something sweet and meaningful behind their eyes. (Examples: @purplehearts1996's Truth or Dare, Trouble, and Sorry Daddy; @floralseokjin's Glazed and Dazed; @jamaisjoons' Good Girl)
Q: Yoongi's go-to fic trope / AU / kink?
A: Slow Burn / Angst / Techie AUs, if that makes sense?, and Family Dynasty, Chaebol fics -- hear me out!! / Oral, obvs
First of all, there are countless fics that cover this, but Yoongi’s. Tongue. Technology. He loves reading about people giving and receiving oral. He judges people's dexterity and reactions and compares them to himself. He'll either read an oral scene and smirk at how much better he could do it, or enthusiastically take notes...
ANYWAY, MOVING ON BEFORE I GET COMPLETELY DERAILED -- though I give BTS examples of such fics, I feel like he wouldn't read fics about himself or the guys because it'd be too weird for him? He's into slow burn, angsty fics where things don't always end happily because, well, that's life. The kind of fics that initially grab his attention are stories that are techie in feel and theme. Think futuristic, hacker, android, robot, scientist, steampunky AUs. Or fics that involve some kind of technical aspect, where characters have a highly specialized skillset, and the story revolves around that skillset coming into play somehow. But! I think he also secretly likes reading dynasty / chaebol kinds of fics! This is solely based on the fact that he watched Sky Castle?? Which is apparently about a bunch of rich parents?? Trying to get their kinds into a prestigious university?? So I think what really gets Yoongi hooked is a dramatic, emotional soap opera that also has some kind of framing device, a task or event that brings people together, forcing them to accomplish or deal with something, with an added bonus if some technical aspect is involved. (Examples: @taestefully-in-luv‘s The Island, @reliablesmitten's Bona Fides, @sahmfanficbts's Promise Me, and I just gotta plug Hideaway because I’ve imagined him reading it ever since I learned about him watching Sky Castle)
Q: Hobi's go-to fic trope / AU / kink?
A: Drabbles and Reactions / Any AU / Overstimulation
Hobi's so into his body, so rooted in the physical world, that he would really gravitate toward drabbles and reactions, those quick snippets like darts right to his heart before he's off to the next dance practice or rehearsal. The right oneshot can get him in the mood like the right song can, and the rest of the guys will know that he's been reading something particularly hot when he gets to practice and he turns it on at full wattage. He's into any character, any AU, any trope, any situation, but what really sends him over the edge is when there's a scene with overstimulation, a moment that dares you to push past your physical limits and rewards you with a feeling you never knew you could experience. (Examples: @blu-joons's entire imagines masterlist, Roomie / @mochilatae's and @purgatorywriter's #micro drabbles and general drabble battles, @xjoonchildx's Dinner & Dessert as well as Close Call from the Guarded series, @btsqualityy's BTS Kink Series: Denial and Overstimulation, @hazzapapi's dirty bts reactions)
Q: Jimin go-to fic trope / AU / kink?
A: Friends to Lovers / Social Media AUs / Praise
Surprise, surprise, the supposed gossip loves a SMAU! He's all about the messy drama. He loves knowing everybody's point of view, getting everyone's reactions in real-time, feeling fully immersed in the world and part of the conversation. He loves judging how people react, to the point where he's almost screaming at his phone screen when someone does something ridiculous. When he gets an appetite for the smut, though, he's all about a praise kink. Based on literally every Run ep, he loves compliments, hearing how good he is, how good he makes you feel. Maybe that's really why, whatever he reads, he's always in such a great mood afterwards. (Examples: basically all of @kimnjss's SMAUs, esp Cyberslut, @burningupp's Remember Me, @sopebubbles' Bulletproof Heart, and @btsrunmylife‘s What U Need)
Q: Taehyung's go-to fic trope / AU / kink?
A: Yandere / Mafia and Rich Boy AUs in which he's the STAR! / Huge (Massive) Cock Kink
Taehyung is as much an actor as he is a musician, so when he's not working on a show, and he's got some downtime in the green room or on a flight, he's reading fics to imagine himself as the main character in his own fics. Whenever I think of Tae reading, I think of him looking for an escape, versions of him that he doesn't always get to show but that he enjoys playing around with. So he leans hard into the obsessive, yandere, dominant side of things, with an air of sultriness and danger. And obviously, he loves getting to read about all the kinds of crazy ways he makes you beg for him, scream for him, with his various endowments 😉 (Examples: Roomie / @mochilatae's Sticky Fingers, @flowesona’s Ultimatum).
Q: Jungkook's go-to fic trope / AU / kink?
A: Fantasy / Gamers / every kink in the book, so long as there's some kind of Fluff and Romance along with his Smut lol
Jungkook's way into fanfic could be the gamer world, which would extend to fantasy. His love for gaming, anime, and his appreciation for cinematography, would hyper-fuel his imagination at all the incredibly creative fic worlds out there. He doesn't seem like the type to naturally have his head in the clouds, so he'd be enraptured at all the detail that writers put into these universes. He'd enjoy stories in any AU that talk about things from a gamer's perspective, but I think he'd also enjoy stories where he is IN video games, living out different kinds of adventures and exploring different worlds. Also, given that he thinks he'll supposedly hear a bell when he meets The One, he no doubt appreciates sweet, romantic stories that contain more erotica than straight smut. But note that even with this whimsy, I still believe Jungkook is 100% a dom lol. (Examples: @btsrecmylife's Into the Safe Zone, @polyjoon's Sonder, which is a delightfully creative, absolutely magical Jinkook story that blew me away because Jungkook is an NPC!)
More Important Questions
124 notes · View notes
20th Sept. drabble | Taehyung x Brat Reader
Summary: He has been working a suspicious amount of overtime nowadays, not being able to give you as much as attention as you’d like. Fed up, you decide to visit him at work, but when you see him and this other woman in his office, you suddenly get why he has been working overtime and you lose it.
Admin note: Just a quick writing to distract myself ❤️
Warnings: Nothing too bad, just time out i guess and getting scolded? Reader is bratty and throws explosive tantrums, is it called l!ttlesp@ce? If not please let me know I’m new to this
Enough was enough.
Wasn’t Taehyung the one who decided that every weekend the two of you would spend time together?
Then why were you here, alone, watching some rerun of some telenovela? Granted, it was kind of entertaining despite you not knowing what the hell was going on - but! This wasn’t how you envisioned spending your Friday night, all alone.
It wasn’t fair! Taehyung was so agitated when your best friend and you went out on a weekend trip together, and now here he is, spending most of his weekend at his stupid job instead of with you.
“I can’t help it, love.”
“It’s really important. I have to go.”
“I can’t cancel this meeting, I’ll make it up to you.”
More and more excuses by the day, you weren’t able to keep up with them anymore.
But you weren’t going to sit here and sob, you were going to get up, go to his work and tell him the truth - that he was neglecting you and this arrangement that you set up.
However your confident pace slowed down as you neared his office door. Taehyung must’ve only taken you here two times times at most but you knew that the amber colored door belonged to his office.
You placed your hand on the handle, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, and you opened the door. “Hey, I-“
Your eyes scanned over the two figures in the room. One belonged to Taehyung while the other belonged to... a woman? She and Taehyung were sitting together, very close, on the velvet sofa, and from what you could see they were looking at something on a tablet.
“Who the fuck is this?” You slammed the door shut behind you.
“Uhm, Tae? What’s going on?” The girl frowned as she looked at him. “I’m his-“
Tae... she even called him Tae.
You snatched the tablet out of her hands and your heart dropped at the sight.
‘Press confirm to book this wedding venue.’
“A wedding? You’re... You’re...” You knew it. You knew that he wasn’t simply working overtime. But you never thought that Taehyung was getting married to some whore.
“Y/N.” Taehyung got up from the sofa and stepped towards you.
You gripped onto the tablet as you stepped back, holding in angry tears.
“Take a deep breath and let me explain. She’s my-“
Anger overtook you and you swung the iPad, barely missing the woman that was right beside him.
The woman gasped and Taehyung’s eyes darkened as he glanced at you with disappointment dripping off his face. “You should leave, we can talk later.” He turned to look at the woman who nodded and took her purse before she left.
“I’m leaving too!” You announced but before you reached the door, Taehyung grabbed you by the arm.
“No, you’re not. You are going to listen to me and calm down this instant. You are making a fool out of yourself.”
You gritted your teeth. Your heart skipping faster at the two options present: you obeyed or you disobeyed, and you went for the latter.
“Let me go!” You shouted before dropping yourself to the floor as you let out a scream, slipping some profanities out while you were at it.
“Have it your way, dear. You need a moment to calm down.” With that, he stepped away and sat back at his desk.
You couldn’t believe that Taehyung was so casual, so calm about all of this - as if you were the problem and not his cheating ass. All sorts of feelings rushed through your chest before you dropped to your back and started kicking and screaming as loud as you could.
Taehyung completely ignored you, typing away at his keyboard and printing out something here and there. He didn’t even glance at you or showed any sort of expression. He remained focused at his work.
There was something - a spark inside of your head that kept encouraging you to scream and kick around even more, to let out all of your frustration, and so you did.
You only stopped when your throat felt hoarse, and you laid there on the floor and panted out of exhaustion.
“Done?” Taehyung peeked from behind his monitor.
“Shut the fuck up!” You screamed with balled fists.
“I suppose not. Let me know when you’re finished, love.”
“You’re an asshole! A jerk! A liar!” You raised your voice at him but when you didn’t get any response, you grew angry again and you looked around the room.
There, you spotted a statue, a small one, of the Eifel tower, when the two of you went on a business trip to Paris, you picked it out for his office.
You dashed to the cabinet and grabbed the statue.
“Oh, you won’t dare.” You heard Taehyung’s voice from behind you.
You spun around, clutching the small object in your hand.
“If you do what I think you’re going to do with it, I’m going to discipline you. Understood?” Taehyung looked away from the screen to give you a warning glare.
Despite the miniature size of the tower, it made quite some noise as it bounced on the floor and came to a full stop after it made contact with Taehyung’s desk.
“I warned you and you still chose to misbehave.” He got up from his desk and you tried to flee to the door but it was locked tight, and Taehyung grabbed you once again by the arm as he dragged you across the room.
“No! No! Stop!” You screeched, then coughed at the sandpaper feel in your throat. “Stop!” You whined as Taehyung pushed you into the corner.
Instantly, you lifted up your arms, keeping your hands up high above your head.
“Dare to lower them and I’ll add extra time. Stand here and don’t move an inch until I come get you. Five minutes.”
Sure, five minutes might not sound like too much, but after a minute and a half, you could feel some muscles in your arms already tightening and you let out a soft groan, lowering your arms slightly to relieve some of the tension.
The slam of Taehyung’s fist against the desk caused you to jump up and raise your hands as high as you could.
“It burns...” You complained, wiggling your fingers in the hopes of releasing some of the tension but it didn’t help.
“Should’ve thought of that before misbehaving.”
Geez, he was so cold.
You tilted your head back as you inhaled deeply and exhaled sharply, trying to distract your thoughts as you felt the intensity of the burning sensation in your arms increasing.
“It really hurts...” You winced as you felt your arms shaking, struggling to not drop to your sides again. “Please...”
“Three more minutes. Now stop complaining before I add more time.”
Your lips pressed against each other as you looked up to your arms, they were shaking as if you were holding something very heavy.
Finally, you gave up and dropped them to your sides.
“No, you are not finished yet.” Taehyung got up from his desk and walked towards you.
“No, no,” You complained as he grabbed your wrists with his one hand and held them pinned above your head.
“Three more minutes.” Taehyung pulled his hand out of his pocket to look at the Rolex on his wrist, tapping his foot as he glanced at the floor, slipping his other hand back in his pocket. It was hard to know what he was thinking at moments like this.
The next three minutes were excruciating, and when your punishment was over, Taehyung let go of your wrists, causing your arms to fall to your side, they almost felt like noodles, there was no feeling in them and they felt wobbly- it was an uncomfortable feeling.
You dropped yourself to the floor again, this time with tears rolling down your face. “I hate you, I hate you so much! I should’ve known that you weren’t really working overtime!” You shouted. “I’m not that fun to be with, is that it? I don’t blame you, she’s gorgeous, I hope the two of you will be happy!” You sobbed.
“But you didn’t have to do this! You should’ve just told me to get out of your life and I would’ve been completely fine with that, but to do this behind my back?” You sobbed as you rubbed your eyes, your chest heaving as you grew more saddened at what had just happened.
“Y/N, listen to me.”
Your sobs got louder as you shook your head. “I deserve it. I know how I can get, I’m dumb, I’m loud, I’m ugly, you’re too good for me, but she? She’s gorgeous. I would cheat on me too.” Your head was starting to hurt from all the emotions you were going through in such a short time. “I, I will pack my stuff and you’ll never see me again!” You wailed, slowly hyperventilating at how upset you were getting.
“She’s my sister.”
“Your... sister?” You looked up to him. “You’re saying that, that woman-“
“The wedding venue’s owner is a good client I’ve worked with in the past. She came over so I could negotiate a good deal for her. She came back after a year of working abroad.”
The more Taehyung spoke, the more ashamed you felt of your own behavior. So that means you almost threw the tablet at his sister’s head, plus you acted this way for absolutely nothing. How humiliating.
“I thought...” You couldn’t even speak any more as you started to wail again, the thought of the two of you separating worried you sick.
“Come here,” Taehyung kneeled down in front of you and pulled you closer. You laid your head on his shoulder and felt him picking you up from the marble floor. You didn’t speak as you just sobbed, glancing around the room as he hummed and rubbed your back.
After you calmed down, almost falling asleep in his hold, he placed you down on the desk. You sat up straight as you looked at him confused.
“Look,” He showed you the tablet, the one you threw earlier. “Look at what you did to it.”
The screen was cracked, and you were able to see some of the wires underneath.
“I broke it.” You said in a soft whisper as you looked down at your lap.
“You broke it.” Taehyung repeated. “Is it okay to throw tablets yes or no?”
“No.” You replied. “It’s not okay to throw tablets.” You spoke fully.
“Is that good or bad behavior?” He questioned further.
“Bad... very bad.” You started to suck on your fingers as your other hand spun a lock of your hair around, growing nervous the more Taehyung was scolding you.
“And this,” He showed the Eifel tower. “You threw this, didn’t you?”
“I did.” You confessed in a soft whine.
“Say that properly.” Taehyung corrected you.
“Yes, I did throw it.” You popped out your fingers.
“When we get home, you are going to sell one of the many things I bought you, and with that money, you will pay for the repairs, do you understand?”
“Yes.” You nodded, not looking forward to having to sell one of your many gifts, but it’s not like you had a few hundred dollars laying around to fix this expensive device.
“Now, what do you say?” Taehyung asked as he placed the tablet next to you on the desk and the statue back into the cupboard.
“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”
“I know you can give me a better apology than that.” Taehyung hummed as he patted your wet fingers with a tissue.
“I’m sorry for throwing things and for breaking the tablet, and for misbehaving.”
“I forgive you.” Taehyung leaned in and planted a quick kiss on your lips before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.
134 notes · View notes
This Boy Is Not A Toy [Series]
Part 1 ⇄ (Masterlist│Series Masterlist) ⇄ Part 3
Pairing – Mafia Heiress! Reader x Bodyguard! Jungkook (ft. bts)
Genre – Angst, Smut, Fluff, Bodyguard AU, Casino AU, Mafia AU, S2L
Summary – [You’re the problematic heiress of your father’s blooming crime den who’s getting her fifteenth bodyguard this month. Everyone warned Jeongguk that you’re crazy but he’s up for a good challenge.]
Warnings – objectification of women, swearing, illegal business, mention of sexual acts, prejudice, violence
Word Count – (4k)
Jungkook went to his room that’s directly next to yours after you relieved him of his duty for the rest of his day and true to your words you didn’t leave your bedroom after you showered (he made sure to listen closely for the sound of your door opening occasionally just in case you tried to trick him) and finished the last pages of your romance novel.
All you did was lounging on your bed and doing your beauty routine as the clock was nearing ten pm, getting your face clean before you applied your face mask like you do every day.
You tried to unwind as much as you could but things just didn’t seem to go in your favour, starting with your new bodyguard who’s sleeping less than a few feet and a thin wall away from you.
As much as you would have liked to be greeted with a dreamless slumber when your head hit your pillow, you kept thinking about the handsome man and how he reacted to you and the hired staff today, especially to Taehyung. You could pick out Taehyung’s angry voice behind closed doors when you were changing your clothes but they were too far away for you to actually understand anything from what he said.
While Jungkook pretended to be ignorant of you he shoved Taehyung’s hands from over your shoulders like a protective boyfriend which confused you. You couldn’t make sense of the whole interaction with him all day. One moment he acts like he’s wishing your immediate death and the second he goes all protective and while you know it’s his job to protect you it doesn’t justify his strong reactions when men try to do something inappropriate in his book. There’s something about him that keeps you on your toes. All your attempts are futile to think about anything else as your eyes close on their own and the claws of unconsciousness surround your tired form.
You’re up early you have no time to waste as you have plenty to do. Jungkook is at the meeting with the security team when you go downstairs to have breakfast missing him going through the hallway with a few minutes that is welcomed since it gives you a few more minutes of freedom of his looming presence.
You’re accustomed to the routine as it happens every morning in order to have everything run smoothly in the house. As far as you know they discuss your and your father’s schedule for the day and every other pressing matter in between, making sure that they’re prepared to keep you both safe. Jimin runs the security team seamlessly and whilst you still remember the lanky boy who sought out your father for a potential job years ago he climbed up the ladder and earned everyone’s respect in the household.
Everything that happened to Hoya last year you tried to avoid pulling up your walls when you’re around your most trusted friends but it’s easier said than done. You raised them without you knowing and now you can’t seem to let them fall anymore.
You’re well aware that Jimin blames himself for what happened but you know better than to do the same, it was out of your and his control and he shouldn’t be held responsible for what happened. Shaking the thought away to get out of your head you left almost half of your food untouched on your plate. It’s getting easier to keep yourself occupied these days, you no longer wake up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and you think less and less about the bloodbath that happened right in front of your eyes.
It’s going to be a busy day so you sip your coffee lowly humming the song that’s playing on the radio while you wait for your bodyguard. You can’t leave the house without him and even if you tried he could hunt you down with ease. Running away is not an option, he’s like a hound you swear he could tell where you are. His tracking skills are actually scary. The first thing on your list is getting a dress for the open night at Jin’s casino.
Whilst you don’t give a shit normally about how you look it’s beyond you this time as you’ll show up as Seokjin’s date for the night. You can’t embarrass him with jeans and slippers as you would do with anyone else and even though you’re not close with Seokjin particularly, Namjoon is your dear friend.
That’s why you’re dragging him with you. Unlike the rich kids your age, you don’t go around having shopping sprees at least two times a week even if technically you could do it with your black card at your beck and call. The other thing that’s unlike girls like you is that your friends are all males. You feel safer in the presence of them, your friends are all honest and straightforward people and while you know that not all girls are gossippers and bad blood you try to keep your life as drama free as you can considering that you’re the heiress of your father’s crime empire. Your little gang is an anomaly in the system that not even your powerful fathers could get rid of. On paper, you’re all enemies but behind closed doors, you’re just people trying to let go of some steam and fit in.
Jungkook doesn’t let the surprise appear on his face when you meet with Kim Namjoon at the mall.
Jungkook never met the man before but either way, there’s no way that he hasn’t heard about him, after all, he’s the younger one of the two sons Mr Kim has and everyone knows Mr Kim thanks to his successful casino that homes a lot of illegal gambling activity and while it’s just a rumour he’s not too shocked if it were true and he has multiple money laundering businesses behind the scenes.
Jungkook moves in reflex when Namjoon goes for a hug as he greets you but your glare makes him freeze in the motion of reaching you. The other male is blissfully unaware as his back faces Jungkook, his head tucked into your neck while you two hug. He misses out on the daggers you send through Jungkook’s body warning him that if he ever lays a single finger on your friend he has a thing or two coming his way. You’re very protective of your friends. You’re not going to let an ignorant and judgemental bodyguard hurt someone because he can’t differentiate between danger and harmless affection. You know it’s your father’s doing. He did this with your previous bodyguards as well. You know by now how this goes, all of them get a list of the possible threats and your friends are on that list.
As soon as you two part Namjoon turns to acknowledge Jungkook’s presence who stands a few feet away from the both of you.
”I’m Namjoon I’m guessing you’re Y/N’s new bodyguard. Nice to meet you.” Jungkook’s taken aback by how laid back Namjoon is. This is far the nicest greeting anyone offered him once he took over the role of protecting you. He has an easy smile on his face with no traces of malice on it when he introduces himself to Jungkook for the first time.
Analysing your relaxed posture and how close you’re standing to each other you clearly feel safe around him. Even when you’re surrounded by the house staff you remain stiff and avoid contact with the household as much as you could, the only exceptions are Jimin, the head of security and Taehyung your personal trainer and Jimin’s subordinate in the security team that he’s now part of.
The man who your father calls another enemy (on the long list that he received on his first day) seems to be actually one of the few closest friends that Jungkook has seen you interact with carefreely due to the short time he spent with you.
”I’m Jungkook.” You’re pleased when he accepts the handshake and even tells him his name.
You were expecting an attitude that always happened with your previous guards. Your smile is genuine this time aimed directly at him as you watch them interact briefly before you tug on Namjoon’s sleeve and intertwine your arms to get started with the dress hunting.
Jungkook follows you silently during the whole time you spend looking for dresses but always a few steps behind not to cause any problems as you clearly showed your displeasure when he’s sticking too close for comfort that you can’t ignore his presence following you like a stalker. You know it’s his job to look at you but you can’t help your reactions showing up on your face from time to time.
Jungkook admitted to himself before that he thinks you look beautiful. You’re not too thin like girls these days, you have defined muscles from the hours you spend working out and even without makeup, you look naturally pretty. Pretty doesn’t mean that you don’t have acne you’re pretty in an imperfect way and you don’t try to cover your beauty marks with heavy makeup. You’re exactly his type so when you move the curtains in front of you to the side for the first time revealing your body in a black modest dress reaching your mid-thigh in length he can’t seem to keep his reaction not to show on his face. You twirl around for show and while Jungkook knows you’re not showing off for him he can’t make himself look away.
Namjoon hands you a pair of black high heels to match the outfit and you softly place your palm on his shoulder to keep your balance as you slip into the shoes.
”You look beautiful Y/N. Jin will lose his fucking mind if he sees you in this.” You get shy at the compliment and to cover your embarrassment you playfully punch his shoulder giggling when he feigns being hurt by your jab. You momentarily forget about Jungkook standing at the far corner until your eyes unexpectedly meet.
You keep eye contact for a moment longer before you look away, trying not to think too much of the look you could discern on your bodyguard’s face. It looked like he wanted to say something but schooled his features before the compliment could slip past his lips.
”Maybe I should go for different shoes, I feel a little wobbly on my feet in these.” Jungkook’s eyes immediately goes to the hand Namjoon has on your waist to stabilise your footing but refrains from acting on it as you don’t seem to mind the placement. It’s not an inappropriate touch, you’re close to your friends that you don’t bat a single eyelash when they bury their nose into your neck for comfort or they hold you close in a brotherly manner. Their gestures are often interpreted the wrong way but there’s no use in correcting them as they will believe what they want.
”You need these, my brother is pretty tall. Jungkook can hold onto you until you find Jin so it should be fine.” You nod your head, not spearing a glace at Jungkook even when his name is spoken by Namjoon’s lips all the while he keeps his eyes trained on you.
You change back to your clothes and make your way to the register to pay for your goods. There’s a second part to your shopping trip as you next chose a tailor shop for men.
Jungkook thinks that Namjoon will pick something as he wasn’t notified that you’ll do anything other than look for a dress but follows you two inside without a complaint. You look at the suits making silent measurements in your head as you search for something specific that would look good on your bodyguard.
You see a black suit with dark blue thin stripes laid in a vertical pattern that gives the piece a little unique touch but from a distance, it looks like an ordinary black set. You wave the assistant over and point at the clothes on the rack, seeing that it has matching ties and dress pants as well.
”Do you have this suit in his measurements?” This time you look at Jungkook and the shopping assistant looks him over to grasp which size would fit him best. She excuses herself to look it up at the database while Jungkook looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. His doe eyes are significantly bigger as he trips over his words.
”What- I- thank you miss but I don’t need-” He’s adorable when he doesn’t know how to react, you almost feel sad that you have to halt his rambling. You would like to see him flustered more often.
”Jungkook. While I don’t particularly care what you wear I have to keep up appearances for my father’s sake. Everyone inside the casino will nitpick every single detail about me and since you’re coming with me you’ll be a subject to that as well. I’ll have to make sure they don’t have anything to complain about.”
If he were one of your friends you would place a comforting hand on his shoulder but you keep your hands in check. There’s a clear boundary between you two and you’re not naive enough not to see how he dislikes you from the moment he laid his eyes on you. Dislike is a strong word maybe as you’re not well acquainted with each other to express such strong emotions. It’s the first time that you’re wanting to get close to your bodyguard after what happened to Hoya.
Whilst it’s the sheer curiosity to find out more about what kind of man he is and what made him be the stoic man that he is now. It’s a dangerous thought to entertain and you know that you should nip this feeling in the bud before it fully blooms.
After all, history always repeats itself. You need to be more on guard from now on if you want to keep you and him safe.
”I’m sorry if it crosses a line but you need to wear this at least to the casino. There’s nothing I can do about it.” You finish your sentence just in time when the assistant comes back with the right suit in hand and places it into Jungkook’s outstretched hands thanking the lady softly before he goes into the changing room to make sure it fits.
Your tongue unconsciously comes out to lick your dry lips when he steps out, the suit hugs his body in the right places. The dress pants make his muscular legs seem longer and the topcoat reveals his petite waist as a single button keeps the material snug against his torso.
Namjoon suddenly whistles next to you which makes you almost jump out of your skin. The minute that you stepped through the doors he went his way to pick out some suits for himself just for fun letting you and Jungkook have your little moment.
”It looks like this suit was made for you Jungkook. Y/N has exceptional eyes indeed.”
You smile at the backhanded compliment. It’s not a lie though as you always pick out your friend’s suits since you have a good eye for them. It saves them the trouble of having to choose themselves as well. Especially Yoongi who hates suit fittings with a passion.
”I didn’t do anything. Jungkook could make everything look like it was made for him. I just picked out something.” You shrug simply looking at anywhere that’s not him.
Namjoon is surprised you’re not one to give out compliments left and right but Jungkook misses the shocked look on Namjoon as he himself avoids making eye contact.
It’s the first time that Jungkook hears this type of genuine compliment from a woman. He heard a lot of things in his life, he’s not innocent either as women always praise his body proportions but no one complimented him without an eerie undertone.
Those women always wanted something from him. Memories flashing before his eyes as his fist clenches at his sides when he thinks about all those women who took advantage of his low status. Using his body while he couldn’t move his bound hands or remove his blindfold.
”Is this ok? You can pick out something else if you’d like.” Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction, his mind clearing of the disturbing thoughts as he regards himself in the mirror. This suit fits him right and it’s as comfortable as a suit can get he doesn’t mind the fact that you choose it either.
”This is fine.” Your bodyguard offers in a reserved tone (making sure that there’s no emotion displayed on his face) as he pulls the blinds closed again to get this over with and have his leisure clothes back on. Jungkook received your schedule from Jimin this morning and he knows that your day is far from over.
Except for the first day that he met your father he wasn’t wearing suits to work due to your request to pull less attention to the both of you when you’re out. He wasn’t protesting at all since he never liked wearing them.
Jungkook waits for you outside once he changed while you and Namjoon pay for the clothes, he keeps his eyes on you both, the reason that he stands guard at the entrance of the shop and not by your side is that he doesn’t want to see the digits on the paycheck as he knows it wouldn’t sit well with him to let you pay for a suit that costs that much amount of money if he knew the real price. The job pays him well but even if that’s the case he still knows that he wouldn’t be able to pay for all this.
He has enough to pay for his rent and purchase plenty enough of food. Right now he lives with you and your family at your mansion but he has to keep paying for his apartment since he won’t be your bodyguard forever, he needs to keep a place that he can return to when you no longer need his services. He also just joined a gym membership last week.
When he was a fighter he had access to the gym all of them used to practice without having to pay for it as his wins earned him plenty of privileges but after he quit he couldn’t afford to go to one and pay the entrance fee.
This is the most someone offered to pay for him that doesn’t involve his body inappropriately either fighting or for sexual purposes so he swore to stick to you and this job for as long as your father allows him to. He needs the money he promised his mother that he’ll buy her a house and he’s adamant to keep his promise.
It’s nearing lunchtime when you part ways with Namjoon and leave the mall in a SUV with a tinted black window to keep your identity a mystery. You’re touched when you see your friend follow the car with his eyes until you leave the parking lot making sure you’re safely out before he hops behind the wheels of his own car.
Unlike when Jungkook accused you (in his head) of not having a job and just living off of your father’s wealth he couldn’t be any more wrong than that. You work as a professional interpreter, speaking five different languages to help your father seal deals with people that live in different parts of the world. This lunch you’re scheduled to have is about business as well.
You arrived back home an hour before the meeting with the investors so you had time to take a shower and shimmy yourself into a semi-formal dress paired up with your favourite nude heels. You let your hair down and styled it to frame your face in loose waves while you kept your makeup natural with a touch of lipgloss.
You and your father ride in the first car to the location while Jungkook and Jimin and five other security members ride in a second one right behind yours.
The Chinese associates are right on time to arrive at the restaurant just like you and your father exit the vehicle.
Each party bows respectfully, letting you and your father sit first before they do.
The restaurant is empty although the time must be around rush hour, the owner is your father’s good friend so it’s not unusual for you to speak to clients in here and have the whole place to yourselves. The wine appears right after the chef himself takes your orders.
The two men don’t even try to hide how they stare at your cleavage the whole time you explain the details to them in their mother tongue. You ignore the nickname the man on the left calls you as you translate the question for your father to understand.
”Something feels fishy to me here. I think we shouldn’t make a deal with them.” You whisper the words right into your father’s ears. It seems like they’re more interested in your breasts than making any kind of business deal and that makes you feel unsettled.
Your father nods despite not knowing the exact words they use he can tell that you’re letting out details when they speak to you. Everyone in the room can tell their intentions clear as day. Jimin is furious he wants nothing more than to punch both of them square in the face for treating you like a piece of meat. The older associate reaches out into your personal space to tuck a strand of hair behind your ears but before he could execute his bold move Jungkook moves faster than lightning and catches the man’s wrist before it could even get close to touching your skin.
”Tell him that if I see him trying to touch you one more time I’m breaking his wrist.”
You’re shocked, to say the least. You didn’t think Jungkook will be this protective it’s not the first time it happens but it is certainly new to feel this type of calmness to be protected by him.
You translate his words and the man shoots back into his seat as if Jungkook burnt him. The former sends a last glare at the Chinese man before he takes his place next to Jimin again but he’s clearly ready to jump at him at any given moment that he deems he’s acting out of line. Jimin pats your bodyguard’s back as to silently say his thanks when he gets back to his position and the lunch goes forward without any more incidents.
Jungkook is impressed, you shift between your language and the foreign one that you speak perfectly while you talk about business. Your gaze is levelled and your posture demands respect. In the end, you end up making a deal with them but they get less involved in the partnership than what your father initially wanted to discuss he doesn’t take it lightly when his daughter is being mistreated.
Jungkook wasn’t the only one impressed either as your father found his quick response pleasing. He had a good feeling about hiring Jungkook and it seems like that his intuition wasn’t fooling him.
The lunch left you in a foul mood for the rest of the day, you retreated into your room earlier than before as Jungkook found himself being excused way earlier than prior to this day.
He could tell that something was bothering you but you closed your door on his face before he could even say goodnight to you.
You needed to get your mind off of things so you ran yourself a bath and ordered takeout. It was depressing to eat alone in the kitchen but it’s not like your friends are allowed inside the house, on paper they’re your father’s enemies and you’re lucky you can even keep in contact with them outside of the mansion.
87 notes · View notes
Support System (MYG x F! Reader)
Part 3 of The Dis-Ease Files.
Pairing: Surgeon!Yoongi x Physician!Reader
Genres: Angst with a fluffy ending (I’m so sorry why is this sad I’m crying)
AUs: Medical AU, Established Relationship, Married Couple
Word count: 2.0k (why is it sooo long)
Tags/trigger warnings: mentions of blood and surgery, some medical terminology (not important to the plot), mentions of infidelity (no actual infidelity occurs/has occurred), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of marriage troubles, swearing
Ratings: sfw, pg
Summary: On a rare day off, both you and Yoongi spend the day at home, and are forced to confront the state of your marriage.
A/N: I really love writing these so much. Yoongi’s story is a bit different - it’s sadder, and a little more fleshed out in terms of introspection and backstory. I tried my best to keep it realistic but hopeful. Based on the Owen and Cristina bathroom scene from season 8 episode 19, with bits and pieces of Meredith’s voiceover from that episode too. I have such a soft spot for both Drs. Min.
Credits for the header image from here (what a great edit!)
“Are you sure you don’t need me to come in today?” Yoongi’s voice wobbles, concern lacing his tone. He taps his foot anxiously as he looks over his home office, papers strewn about from different research articles he’d been working on. “I could follow up on that patient case we’re using for the joint study.”
Hoseok’s laugh echoes from the other side of the call, and Yoongi can almost feel his smile at the other end, mocking him and his perpetual state of stress and need to constantly be at the hospital.
“Yoongi, HYBE isn’t going to collapse after one day without its most brilliant neurosurgeon. We’ll be fine here. Just enjoy your day off with your wife. Gotta go, I’ll talk to you later!”
Yoongi doesn’t even get a chance to say anything as the line shuts off, leaving him in silence once more. His foot hasn’t stopped bouncing, and he chews on his bottom lip anxiously as the reason for his nerves comes to mind.
You. His wife. A brilliant doctor in your own right, you’d been engrossed in your studies to become a board-certified dermatologist over the past few months, all while taking care of your own patients. Yoongi couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen you in something other than scrubs or pyjamas.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you come out of your own office, hunched over the computer all day looking over notes when you got home. The two of you had even stopped running into each other in the hospital cafeteria, your once-a-week lunch dates a distant thing of the past.
His eyes mist as he thinks back on the memory of the first time you met: him, just promoted to neurosurgery attending, and you, a bright-eyed 1st year resident, both caught under the mistletoe at the annual hospital Christmas party. Instead of leaning in for a kiss, you’d picked his brain, blowing him out of the water with your knowledge. A little over a year later, he’d finally gotten his revenge, making a joke about the kiss you stole from him as he pressed his lips to yours in front of all your loved ones in the orchestra hall you’d gotten married in.
Cut to now, when the two of you were little more than glorified roommates. Life at the hospital was always full of ups and downs, so when had life between the two of you become so mundane?
Slamming the door to the bathroom shut, you sink down onto the floor, your body overcome with sobs. Your brain was absolutely exhausted, and you couldn’t take looking at your notes for a second longer. Months of your life had been given away to studying for your board exam, months you’d gone without seeing Yoongi, touching him, holding him.
Yoongi had always been so patient and gentle with you - the calm candle to your crackling fireplace, always excusing himself to let you study, and never bothering you when you came home from seeing patients and needed to focus. At first, you’d relished how thoughtful and attentive his gestures seemed, but over time, they started to feel cold. Almost like he didn’t want to be around you, like he didn’t want to cuddle on the couch and watch movies, like he didn’t want to kiss every single inch of your body as the two of you rolled around in the satin sheets of your bed.
The two of you had resigned yourself to never seeing each other at the hospital anymore, your busy schedules never seeming to line up. Until last Thursday. You’d finally finished up early in the morning, heading over to the Neuro department to seek out Yoongi. But as you stepped out of the elevator, you saw him - with her.
Kim Do-Yeon. Second-year neurology resident. While not a surgeon herself, she’d always tagged behind Yoongi, pressing him for info about his research and cases. Just like you had. Bile rose up in your throat as you saw Yoongi give her one of his huge gummy smiles and a laugh.
“Let’s go to the cafeteria, we can talk more there,” his voice rings out, and you realize they’re headed straight for the elevators. Ducking your head, you hold back tears as you brush past them, Yoongi not even taking his eyes off Do-Yeon to notice your presence. Jogging down the end of the corridor towards the abandoned stairwell, you spend the lunch hour hunched over. You’d called out sick for the rest of the day.
The memory haunts you now as you slump onto the bathroom floor. You’d overheard Yoongi’s conversation with Hoseok earlier on the phone. How he’d been begging to go back to the hospital so he wouldn’t have to be here with you - so he could see Do-Yeon.
The force of a loud knock wakes you from your vulnerable state as the door shakes behind you. Blinking your eyes, the tears clinging to your lashes fall as you make out Yoongi’s voice behind the door.
“___?” he calls out nervously. “Are you alright in there? I-, I heard the door slam, and then I heard someone crying. Please, open the door.”
You look down at the floor listlessly, wondering why he even wants to talk to you right now. He has his patient voice on right now, sweet and caring, and it makes your heart drop even more. That hadn’t been the tone of voice he’d used when it happened. The screams and the yells are what you remember, your front door slamming shut, and Yoongi’s car backing out of the driveway. Gritting your teeth together, you decide not to respond.
The knocks become louder, more frantic, as Yoongi begins to yell.
“___, please, open the door! Are you hurting yourself? Are you alright?”
Panicked by your lack of response, Yoongi keeps knocking, knuckles becoming raw against the wood grain.
What was going on in there? Yoongi’s mind flashes back to the last time he found you in the bathroom, lying in a pool of your own blood. His heart stops.
“___, if you don’t open the door right now, I’m going to break it down.”
Yoongi braces himself, stepping back and lunging as he prepares himself to ram into the door. On 3,2,1-
The door flies open, and Yoongi stumbles through, falling shoulder first onto the floor as he wipes out.
“Ouch! Fuck, that hurt!” he groans, rubbing his shoulder.
Looking up at your face, he’s met with the sight of a grin. Suddenly, you break out into giggles, the sound of your laughter echoing against the bathroom tiles.
Yoongi’s face is frozen in shock, unable to believe his ears, but your laughter isn’t stopping him any time soon. You sound so light, carefree, and happy that he can’t help the smile that breaks out onto his face. Soon enough, he’s laughing along with you.
The laughs continue as he hears you wheezing, struggling to get words out amongst your giggles.
“You… are an idiot, Min Yoongi! An idiot! How many times have I told you to be careful with your shoulder? You’d think a fucking surgeon would have some idea of how to take care of themselves!”
“And me!” you point to yourself. “I’m an idiot too! An absolute idiot because I’m a freaking doctor who’s the best resident in her year, and I’m sitting here on a bathroom floor sobbing my eyes out because I had a fucking miscarriage and my husband’s probably having an affair because he doesn’t love me anymore! And I have to study for my boards, which I’m probably going to fail at this point!”
Your cackling dies down as you end the statement on a sob, the words heavy in your throat. A strange look crosses Yoongi’s face, and he looks down at the floor.
You want to scream as Yoongi stands up and makes his way past you, leaving you alone in the bathroom once more. You want to cry, but you’re too tired. Closing your eyes, you rest your head against the doorframe.
Footsteps interrupting your slumber, your eyes open to the figure of Yoongi crouched next to you on the bathroom floor, a mini whiteboard and marker in his hands.
“Neurofibromatosis Type 1,” his voice rumbles as he writes it out on the whiteboard. “A genetic disease caused by a faulty gene that leads to tumors of the nervous system. One of the first signs of detection is abnormal freckling and lesions on the skin.”
“That was your opening line. We’d just met, and you had me head over heels with that one fact. A fact I already knew, but you spun it to show me how we were connected. In medical school, they teach us about the systems of the body. How everything’s connected. Like that one song - the foot bone’s connected to the shin bone.”
You let out a laugh at his offkey rendition of Them Bones, and he takes the moment to wrap his arms around you, resting your head against his shoulder.
“But it’s more complicated than that. Everything’s connected but in the most beautiful and tragic of ways. There’s a system that helps you breathe, there’s one that keeps you standing, there’s one that helps you eat, one that helps you feel. If you take one bone out, you hit one nerve, you puncture one vessel, everything falls apart. You can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t feel pain, or joy, or love.”
Yoongi’s voice cracks as tears roll down his face, realizing that when the body’s systems began to fail was when patients came to him, and to you. They put their trust in their doctors because when something began to fail was when patients realized how heavily they depended on it all along.
“I want to tell you that there's nothing going on with Do-Yeon because you're the only person I'll ever be able to love,” he breathes. “I want to tell you that I miss you. I want to tell you that you’re the most amazing doctor I’ve ever known and that all your hard work will pay off one day. But I also need to tell you I’m sorry. You needed me, our baby needed me, and we needed each other. And I failed you. I failed you both.”
Yoongi’s sobs wrack his entire body as he shakes against you, rocking back and forth. Reaching up, your brush away the tears on his face with your fingertips, pressing your forehead to this.
“The sad part of our job,” you breathe out. “Is that we see things fail all the time. Surrounded by so much failure, by so much pressure, it’s hard not to get overwhelmed. But do you know what keeps me going, Yoongi? Part of it is the gift we have - the ability to take a failing situation and turn it around. There’s so much beauty in that, so much hope. But the biggest part of it has always been you. You’re my support system. Even if you may fail me, even if you let me down, that never takes away from the fact that I need you. I always have, and I always will.”
The two of you hold each other for the rest of the night in the bathroom, never moving from your spot, eyes closing and arms wound tightly. When the sunlight streams in through the window in the morning, he rubs his eyes blearily. Lifting you up in his arms, he walks you to the bedroom, setting you down before making his way to the phone in the corner of your room.
Dialing the number to the main office, he connects with the receptionist, looking over at you with a gentle smile on his face.
“Mrs. Choi? Can you reschedule all my consultations and follow-ups post any surgeries today? I’d like to end the day early, my wife hasn’t been feeling well lately and I need to come home and be there for her.”
A/N pt. 2: It was important to me to show how this one moment doesn’t heal them - but it helps them take the steps to getting there. This one dealt with some hard stuff - my heart goes out to any of you who have dealt with, or are currently dealing with loss or feeling unloved. I’ll be your support system. Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜
113 notes · View notes
Your Fluffy Little Dumpling
Gone (방탄소년단) - Part 2
Summary -> Who knew you’d end up meeting your childhood best friend once again. Who knew you’d end up meeting him while racking your brains up in another chaotic year of high school. Yet after all this time, he remains the same boy you’ve remembered. Cheeks fluffy as clouds, affection for dumplings still strong as ever, and sleepy as the days go on. Sure.. He’s a little grumpier now, but that does not change the fact that he's the cutest little thing to ever waddle into your life.
Word Count: 7.9k
Genre: poly!au / sculptor!yoongi x traveller!reader / angst / fluff/ poetry / romance / unrequited love / childhood bestfriends to lovers / reunion / idiots in love
Warning: Heartbreak/ mutual pinning / toxic ex-friend (mentioned twice) / being invisible / profanity / doubt
A/N: One month and Four days. Why did it take so long? First of all: Assignments. Second of all: Online classes. Third of all: Lack of Motivation. Last of all: Life.. :].. I reread this and it was beautiful. I genuinely like it, even though I read it over a good five times already.
Thank you to @dazedbypark who called my story adorable. I know you haven’t read the whole thing yet, but you’re working on your own amazing fic. The fact that you volunteered to read my work and did so to a minimal state brings joy to me. :)… - a smiley face for you.
Thank you @heejojo who gave amazing feedback. Your comment brought a smile to my face. I’m glad you like the dynamic I have created for my characters. :)… - a smiley face for you.
‘Du yu like tis,’ your tiny hands offer a piece of milk chocolate to the equally small boy sitting on the swing.
‘Choco-lit?’ he examines the package.
‘Oh.. Is tat wat it’s called?’
‘Yeah..’ he nods.
‘Do yu like choco-lit?’ your face contorts at the unfamiliar word grazing the tip of your tongue.
‘I like dump-ings better,’ he confidently declares, ‘No.. I love dump-ings..’
‘What are tose?’
‘You don’t know wat tey are?’ he opens his mouth in shock, as though he was horrified of you.
‘No,’ you shake your head.
‘My mummy makes them evy-month.. You should come over and t-uvay them sometyme...’ he pauses, realising that your name is still a mystery.
‘Y/N.. Y/Niee,’ you grin wildly, his mouth following in return.
‘Yoongi,’ the boy tells you his name.
‘No.. Yoongi,’ he corrects.
‘Yoonie,’ the dictionary in your head only knows one word, ‘Yoonie.’
‘Pine.. Yu can call me tat,’ he pouts.
‘Kitty.. Yoonie luks like a kitty,’ pink creeps up his fluffy cheeks.
‘Yu are funny.. Y/Niee,’ your name coming from him feels different. It isn’t compressed with resentment like when your mother calls you. It sounds sweet coming from him. Like choco-lit.
So sweet it makes you sniffle. Tears running down your cheeks like water running down a cliff.
‘Oh?.. Why are yu cwaying?’ concern reaches his eyes, ‘Was it because I culled yu funny?’
‘Nu one ever calls mi Y/Niee.. I like that.’
‘Y/Niee wunt to come over my house for dump-ings?’ he offers, ‘We cun hulp mi mummy make them.’
‘Where is your house?’ you wipe your sobs away.
‘Over tyher,’ he points, ‘I just moo-ved here.’
‘Did yu ask your mummy if I could come?’
‘I’ll just tvell her that yu are mi best friend.’
‘Best fviend?’ your eyebrows furrowed at that.
‘Yeah.. I like you a lot, Y/Niee,’ he nods, his eyes sparkling like crystals.
‘I never had a best fviend before,’ you mutter to yourself.
‘Then.. I’ll be your first, and last,’ he shows his pinky, ‘Best fviends forever.’
Your fingers meet as a promise to always be by each other’s side. You turn from six years old to eleven. That's when he moved out of the neighbourhood. The same night you balled your eyes out like crazy because your fluffy little dumpling boy was now as good as gone.
Seven years after ↴ (High School)
‘Y/N..Y/N..’ the teacher tries to catch your attention as you continue to doze off.
‘Yes?’ your eyes barely manage to open.
‘There‘s saliva dripping down your chin,’ she informs you, the laughter of the other students that follow a nuisance to your ears.
‘Quiet down everyone! As I have said earlier, we have a new student joining us.’
‘Ooh,’ the boys fill with excitement.
‘Do you think it will be a boy?’ the girls in the back chatter among themselves.
‘Do you think he’ll be cute?’ one of them questions.
All of that is interrupted by, ‘Quiet down everyone!’
‘Please come in,’ that is when the door opens, revealing a tall, fit, yet adorable-faced figure dressed in the school uniform.
You want this moment to last forever - even if it is a dream. Because if it was, you don’t want to wake up. You'd rather stay stuck in this made-up universe for as long as he exists. For in all of those years of staying up until two just to study for another stupid test, today may be the best day to ever come.
‘Do introduce yourself,’ she gives away one of her: ‘you better behave or I will be a bitch’ smile.
Was this him? Because damn... Even the finest of aged wines and liquor couldn't compare. His smile brings shame to all of mankind.
‘Nice to meet you all. I’m Min Yoongi,’ his voice was thick as paste, and his words were as clear as the sky outside.
‘Woohoo!’ those who gawk their eyes at him go unnoticed by you, for if what they were doing was considered gawking. What you were doing was absorbing. Absorbing all you could take before it would be taken away from you.
Yoongi was as stunning as a butterfly in daylight and as alluring as a firefly against the prussian blue sky. Eyes lightly shaded, lips carefully moulded, and cheeks carved exquisitely to utter perfection.
‘You can sit there. Next to Y/N,’ your heartbeat can be heard loud and clear - for the excitement, fear and anticipation was intense like those last moments where paint is drying on a canvas. Where no one knows what could go wrong. So intense you could have sworn the person sitting in front of you knew of how your heart drops and rises every few seconds.
You walk around with an impassive expression scribbled all over your face. Like an abstract painting that would appear indecipherable and confusing at first glance, and familiar to those who spend hours staring and trying to figure the meaning behind it all. The two creases above your brows when you're focused on work, the way your cheeks puff out when you smile, the adorable noises you make whenever you sneeze, and that frown that visits you when the teacher sets another ridiculous assignment. You were such an interesting character, yet no one wanted to know you or tried to know you. Except one, Min Yoongi.
The creaking of the chair and the sound of him sitting down startles you. But you refuse to show that. You refuse to wear your heart on your sleeve like half of the population does. You remain calm and untouched on the outside and an explosion of feelings on the inside. You were a tree with remarkable chiffon-white bark overflowing with despicable critters. And half of you very well knows that somehow he’d still be able to see right through you. As though you were made of transparent glass, and your thoughts floated above your head like a rubber duck placed in a bathtub. Yet you still tried.
‘Hi,’ that’s when the wooden walls build across you cracks into pieces, for as of right now you couldn't help but grin foolishly. A child in a candy store, the man before you a colourful lollipop made entirely of sugar. The only thing preventing you from him was your mother who doesn't let you indulge in the sweet crystalline substance. But.. a lick wouldn’t hurt. Would it?
‘Remember me?’ his fingers linger over his head, a habit he developed when he was nine.
‘Yoongi..’ just like the day he said your name for the first time, your pretty voice almost brings him to tears. But, crying in a classroom full of strangers and on your first minute in a new school wasn’t what he wanted.
‘Let’s catch up later,’ you direct your pencil at the board, encouraging him to focus.
‘I have to graduate.’
Lies.. Lies.. You never listen. You simply needed time to take in the fact that your childhood best friend was sitting next to you. That he was real, and that if you touched him he wouldn’t disappear.
So, as he focuses his eyes on the teacher, you decide to poke his shoulder to test out the theory. People can call you dumb all they want, but meeting someone you’ve lost seven years ago is not an everyday occurrence.
‘I won’t disappear even if you keep doing that.’
Damn it!! That fucking gummy smile!! Cuteness metre overload!!
‘Oh,’ you slap your hand across your forehead upon realising how foolish you sound and seem.
‘So.. You like sleeping in class?’ he smirks, ruffling your hair as though so much time hasn’t passed by already.
‘What do you mean?’ you protest, refusing to fall victim to his accusation. Which was very much a fact if you’d say so yourself.
‘Y/niee.. The door allows you to see everything in here. It's made of glass,’ your cheeks redden at this. Not because you’ve been caught, but because, ‘Y/niee..’!!!
‘Haven’t heard that name in a while,’ you confide the truth to him.
‘Why? Don’t your friends call you that?‘
‘I don’t have friends,’
The pitiful girl who no one knows. You sure play that role well.
‘Oh.. Sorry,’ he scolds himself in his head, knowing that he has entered bulldog territory. It's only been ten minutes, yet he’s already fucked up. (Not that he was counting the time spent with you or anything.)
He just assumed you would have many friends. I mean.. From what he remembers - you were one lovely little girl. Unless you have turned into a mean witch of some sort that is. He doubts that though, not by how your teeth show as you chuckle in silence and how you are a nervous mess in front of him. And even if you were a mean which, he couldn't care less. All he knew was that you were the six-year-old girl he brought home to make dumplings with.
You might have changed over these years. But regardless of what, you’re his best friend. His Y/niee...
‘It’s okay. It's perfectly fine of you to assume I have friends. Everyone else has one or two.’
‘Speaking of friends... I’m sure you’ve got many. You’re cool,’ the compliment plops two pink dots on his cheeks, the pigment spreading across his face.
‘I had two in my life,’ he shows you his fingers.
‘That’s a lot,’ you tell him.
‘And then there's you.’
And then there's you.
Why did that sentence make you gulp slightly? Maybe it was because of the countless questions wandering around in your mind. What were you to him? Just a decent childhood memory to forget? A cherished childhood memory engraved in his heart? Something he had only come to remember today?
‘My best friend,’ that made you smile, contrasting to that of your usual poker-faced and empty canvas-like expression. The artist hovering from above you with his brush stretching your lips as wide as he could, as though he was a puppeteer and you were a marionette doll with no mind or heart of your own. But the act wasn’t as horrendous as it seems to be. For you don’t regret smiling.
‘Looks like the promise..’
‘Y/N, and Yoongi!’ your teacher has never irked you this badly. But.. as they say, you never know what happens.
‘Yoongi,’ you poke him lightly.
‘Smile,’ you whisper, his ears catching on and obeying your orders.
‘No talking in my class. If I catch you one more time detention it is for you, Y/N.’
‘Yoongi.. I expected you to behave. But.. I guess Y/N got to you,’ you don’t miss the scowl she sends your way.
‘Y/N’s at it again,’ those were the last words she uttered before returning to her lesson.
Looks like the bell was on your side this time.
‘Class is dismissed,’ her pointing stick is shoved into her tote bag, her heels disappearing at the door.
‘Huhh.. Finally,’ students sigh in relief.
‘Y/Niee.. Wait for me,’ he holds your hand in his, your body relaxing immediately at the contact.
‘I’m sorry for getting you in trouble. I’d understand if you’d want to avoid me,’ that breaks his heart.
Why on earth are you saying that?
‘No.. Why would I do that?’
‘That’s what happened years ago. After I was deemed as the “trouble maker”, my friends all avoided me.’
These “friends” of yours. If he were to ever come across them, he’d have to have a little chat with them. Or in his language. Tie them up in rope, and make them confess to their sins.
‘I’d never let our friendship fall for such silly things like that. You’re worth much more than that,’ he pats you on the head.
‘Whoever these “friends” of yours are.. They don't deserve you. A friend will stick with you through thick and thin. The fact that they let go of your hand for a mere rumour speaks for everything!’
‘Why do you sound so angry, Yoonie?’ you tease.
‘Because you don’t deserve this,’ he replies honestly.
‘Now.. Let's get onto something more light. Our first day together shouldn’t be spent on such gloomy and meaningless topics.’
You nod in return, pleased in knowing that after all of this time there is someone willing not only to stay by your side but to stand up for you.
‘What’s your favourite colour?‘ he feigns unfamiliarity, even though the colour he believed to be your favourite is frolicking across the tip of his tongue. His eyes crinkling in utter joy at the recollection of you and your many purple bracelets.
‘Black,’ time changes people, he forgot that.
But change is what we all need in order to grow. He’ll frown for a few days, realising how he doesn't know you well like he once did. Nevertheless, he’ll get to know you. The present version of yourself.
‘What’s your favourite movie?’ the questions don't stop rolling in.
‘Oh.. Come on! You know how easily distracted I get,’ you grimace at his faked oblivion. It might have been years since you have met, but regardless of what, you still know him to a certain degree. No matter how many times he’d dip himself in pretend curiosity, you’d still be able to distinguish whether he was playing with you or genuine in his actions. Right now he was digging through a mine filled with gems, and putting on an act of not being aware of what lies underneath. A part of him very much knows the answers to these questions and is just testing whether he is right or not.
‘Do you have a crush on someone?’ his babbling that doesn't come to an end is a disguise used to hide the real motive behind it all. The crush he had ever since you both turned eight, and the one that never managed to fade away.
He has to know this. To know whether he’s a possible candidate to snatch a place in your heart, or if that spot has already been taken.
‘Yes,’ those words splatter at his once sparkling hope, replacing it with despair.
‘Who?’ he struggles to hide the frown knocking at him, yet a teasing smirk manages to caress his face.
‘... Kim.. Kim Taehyung,’ lies spill from your lips. The last time you spoke to Taehyung was three years ago - when he forgot to bring his pencil. The last time you got a glimpse of him was two weeks ago - when you accidentally bumped into him.
Either than that, Kim Taehyung is invisible to you as you are invisible to him.
‘The school’s heartthrob?’ looks like he’s got another reason (aside from the boxy-smiled boy’s continuous persistence of wanting to be friends) to hate the fellow.
‘Mmhmm,’ you nod, wishing ever so desperately that he doesn't catch on to your lie. He probably already found you pitiful enough. Why add more to the hundred reasons to feel bad for you? Making up a little crush wouldn’t hurt anyone. Or will it?
‘He’s my neighbour. I can talk to him for you. If you’d like me to that is,’ as much as he wanted you for himself, and as much as he wanted to fight for you. How was he supposed to do so? Especially when your heart already has been set somewhere.
For you to be happy and well. That's what he wanted most. And even if that happiness had to come in the form of a tall, and brown-eyed teenager dressed in denim. So.. It was.
Min Yoongi is a good judge of character, and he knew that Kim Taehyung was nothing but a good-looking lad dragged into the spotlight simply because his nose was prominent, his eyes were alluring, and his deep voice was regarded as attractive.
In the name of love, Min Yoongi was one big idiot who doesn't know how gifts work or how particular signs meant. He’s only been in love once in this nearly two decades of his. And that's to you. Therefore, How does a man who is clueless as a chipmunk get the girl? He screws up and learns from it.
‘You don’t have to,’ it’s either he fell for it, or he’s pretending not to know. You don't want neither. You just want him to push you against the wall and claim your lips as his.
‘We only have barely a year left before the bear gets away.’
‘I’m not that desperate. You sound more desperate than I am.’
‘No, I’m not. Why would I be?’
Only for Yoongi, you were.
Only for you, he was.
‘Kim Taehyung!’ his words pump up with resentment like a balloon filled up with the wrong type of gas.
‘It’s for Y/N.. It’s for Y/N.. It’s for Y/N,’ he chanted it in his head.
‘Taehyung-ah!’ more friendly, he thought.
‘Hyung!! You have finally decided to glance my way,’ he doesn't bother to hide his smile, his eyes beaming in utter glee.
‘We can be friends.’
Overjoyed and a level up of what over the moon felt like. Kim Taehyung was happy. Very happy.
‘Yes,’ he’s already feeling guilty.
‘Taehyung, let me be honest with you. I came here because of Y/N,’ that’s when his face drops, shades of grey and white splattered across his expression.
‘Oh..’ he’s an open book.
‘She likes you. Will you do me a favour, and go out with her?’ half of Yoongi wanted him to say yes, and the other half didn't.
‘So, you’re not here because you want to be friends?’
‘No,’ he was already asking for too much, the least he can do was tell the truth. ‘You can think ab-’
‘I’ll do it,’ this was a great opportunity - too great for him to pass by, ‘When’s the date?’
‘Tomorrow, 4 pm. Cafe Bonsai.’
‘I’ll be there,’ that’s it, Taehyung’s big plan. To get to know Y/N, make her tell him about Yoongi, and use that information to get his crush to fall head over heels for him.
That's how you ended up seated here, a bowl laying there with the remanence of spaghetti that was once dressed in bold red sauce as you face no other than Kim Taehyung.
‘I got you a date with you-know-who,’ Yoongi informed you, holding hands with the woman he introduced you to mere seconds ago. That ignited a fire in you. ‘Make Yoongi Jealous.. Steal Yoongi’s heart,’ your head went on, a faux grin sent his way.
‘So.. Will you tell me about yourself?’ he wakes you up from your daydream with a genuine question sculpted from his child-like curiosity and fondness towards people.
‘My dream job is to travel around the world. I’ve been saving up ever since I could get a part-time job,’ a perplexing smile pinches your lips. Was this too much to tell a person you've barely talked to twice?
‘That’s cool. Mine is to be a saxophonist,’ he pauses, ‘Just kidding. That was a silly childhood dream of mine. My dream job is to paint. I especially have an admiration towards impressionism.’
‘That’s cool,’ you were beginning to see him in a whole new light. The filter he puts on to play the role of the school’s heartthrob forgotten and put aside.
Both you and he are more alike than you’d like to admit. Those who hide behind a facade tend to forget who they are beyond it. But both you and him weren’t like that. You can fool the whole world, but you can’t fool yourself. For, when they all turn their heads away you’re simply dear old Y/N who eats cookies from a tin and he’s Taehyung who mixes paint in a can.
‘Of course, it is,’ you nod in agreement.
‘Everyone else doesn't seem to agree. To them, art is the ticket to starvation and poverty,’ his fist tightens at the image of his parents throwing away his art. The blood, sweat, tears, and emotions that come along with them all tossed aside and replaced with resentment, anxiety, and pain. The textbooks clustered in numbers and signs a replacement that will supposedly lead to: ‘the key to his success.’
‘Ignore what they say. You know what is best for you and what you want and need better than anyone else does. If you want to paint, paint,’ your heart may beat for Yoongi, but your words aren’t limited to him.
‘Thank you, Y/N.. I’d love to talk more. But, it’s late now, I think we should part ways,’ he stands up from his chair.
‘Call me Tae.’
Five months later ↴
‘Y/Niee... Come over here,’ Seori, Yoongi’s sixth girlfriend of the year, makes you scoot over to join the others.
But, wait a minute! Y/niee!!?? Only Yoongi gets to call you that. How dare-
‘1... 2... 3.. Cheese!’ you settle your arms around Yoongi and Taehyung’s hip, trying your best to not strangle her.
How long was this one going to last? Four days? Two weeks? One month?
Well.. little did you know, this would be the last of her. Turns out, Yoongi didn't like the whole ‘Y/niee’ situation just as much as you did. In his words: ‘How dare you call my best friend that! Just because I call her that, doesn't mean you can. We should end this. I don't like people like you. People who think with their feet.’
You might think. Isn’t that a silly reason to break up with someone? In Yoongi‘s world, it wasn’t like that. He was dating simply because you couldn't be his.
The amount of women he has left broken-hearted has earned him a name - pretty boy. Legend has it, that the pretty boy is easy to fall in love with but hard to make fall in love back. He has innocent features and round cheeks, yet no heart to be found. Once you mess up once, out the drain you go. And when we say mess up, we mean: accidentally bumping into pretty boy’s best friend because your shoelaces were untied. You get the picture.
‘Where are we Yoongi?’ you observe your surroundings, taking in the sculptures that are displayed everywhere.
‘Welcome to my workshop,’ a wave of satisfaction and pride hit him in the form of the curving of his lips.
‘Woah. Did you make these?’ you stare in awe at the array of flower sculptures that lay neatly next to one another.
‘I did,’ he bobs his head slightly, his excitement at its peak upon seeing how amazed you appear to be.
‘Yeon-ki.. Why haven't you shown me this before?’ your voice comes out weirder than it normally would.
‘I thought you wouldn’t be interested,’ he scratches his head, burrowing his face into the charcoal black t-shirt he wore.
‘Min Yoongi.. Oh, Yoongi.. My dream job when I was thirteen was to be a sculptor.’
‘Oh, really? Mine started ever since I was eight. Growing up with a mother who ran a dumpling shop does a thing or so to you,’ he chuckles, memories of two tiny hands sealing the edges of a kimchi and pork dumpling coming back to him.
‘How come you never told me that?’ you pout, thinking of how you used to tell each other everything.
‘I was embarrassed,’ he remembered the day his teacher asked him: ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’
‘A sculptor,’ that’s when the class broke down into laughter, his cheeks pink from humiliation.
Now how was he going to tell you? That he didn't want to tell his crush (who also happens to be his best friend) about his dream job, because he didn't want her to find him weird like the other children did and leave him...
From his perspective as a grown-ass man, children find anything funny.
‘Yoongi.. When I was eight years old I wanted to be a kitty cat,’ you giggle, your third-grade classroom visible from the corner of your eyes.
‘Y/N.. What do you want to be when you grow up?’
‘Uhh.. Uhh.. A kitty cat, Ms Seo,’ even the teacher starts cracking up.
‘Ahh. I remember you telling me that.’
How can you be this adorable? He swears he’s melting right now, his heart all mushy and soft. Oh- But you’re not his...
‘Wanting to be a sculptor isn’t even one bit embarrassing,’ you scowl.
To him it was.
‘He He,’ he’s feeling shy, light giggles coming from his lips.
The ‘Min Yoongi’ shy? Only for you, it seems. No one makes him feel like you do.
‘So.. Why are we here?’
‘We haven’t been hanging out with one another lately. So.. I thought. Why not do something fun for once?’ he points at the clay sealed in transparent airtight bags over on the table.
‘Pottery?’ you conclude.
‘Pottery,’ he verifies your speculation.
‘I will teach you how to make your own piece!’ never has he ever been this enthusiastic over something. This was his craft after all, his escape from boring essays and equations. The love of his life - after you of course. Even dumplings found themselves in third place over time.
‘I want to make matching mugs,’ ideas spring up in your head like brushes swirling in water.
‘You’re that excited?’ his face is going to start hurting from all of this smiling.
‘Mmm.. I am,’ fuck that, you’re worth all of his smiles.
‘Do you want me to show you how first, or do you want me to guide you along?’
‘Guide along,’ you let him tie your apron on, his hands hovering above your curves.
‘Just like that,’ he finishes the last knot, your body paralysed out of nervousness and your heart pounding palpably away. The sound of your heartbeat was like music being played at the lowest volume possible. The vibrations barely clear, but still existing. The melody quiet and only picked up if listened to meticulously.
‘What are you waiting for? Sit down, Y/niee.’
Min fucking Yoongi! I’m about to pounce at you, you clueless yet ridiculously lovable freak that I wish were mine - you cursed in your head, sitting down obediently.
‘Apply pressure onto the clay,’ he instructs, the confusion reflecting on your eyes reminding him of his earlier days.
The days in which he just started learning. First was the paper flowers, then the pottery, and now the sculptures. He was making his way through it one by one, hoping he’d master it all in the near future. Materials like breezeblocks, plaster of paris, soapstone, alabaster, serpentine and wonderstone he had carved away. The amount of materials he has lost possibly forming a mountain. Yet the many pieces he has created out of all of it was worth every lost and aching muscle.
He’d move on to marble soon, and to be honest, he’s eager as fuck. And a reasonable amount of: ‘I’m scared for my life.’ That’s what he likes to think.
Marble is expensive, and tricky to work with. However, as a sculptor, he was willing to try everything out. Who knows, maybe marble might end up being his end game.
‘You have to centre it,’ his hands overlap yours, guiding you through the divine art of pottery.
‘Like this.. There we go,’ your back pressed against him, results in the zapping of a lightning-like sensation in your chest.
‘Now, we have to form a hole,’ the clay smooth against your bare hands, both satisfying to touch and watch as it goes through a magical transformation on the wheel.
‘We are almost done,’ his hands now around your waist.
How can you move at this rate?
‘Relax.. Pottery is supposed to calm you down, not stress you out,’ so you do calm down, your hands moving the way he wants you to. Your heart the polar opposite.
‘Now we remove it, and let it air dry,’ he’s careful to not harm the shape of the mug as he cuts it off, placing it on another table.
‘Time to make the other one,’ he does as you did minutes ago, his hands like waves colliding in the ocean. Every moment his body moves, a marble being quarried somewhere.
‘Woah,’ that makes him smile. You make him smile, his motions not ceasing to exist. His fingers dancing along with clay that continues to spin around, the twirling coming to a halt at last.
‘We’ll come back tomorrow. They need to dry overnight.’
‘So, this is it?’ you frown, realising that your time with Yoongi is no more.
‘No.. I’ve got something else planned,’ and now you were content yet again.
‘What do you have planned?’ curiosity was yet to be reduced like the many slabs of rock Yoongi has in store. He’ll have to carve this one first though. Taking away your curiosity, and leaving you with blocks of utter satisfaction.
‘A-’ that’s when his phone starts ringing violently.
‘Oh.. Shit. I have to go, Y/N.’
‘Why?’ I guess those pieces of excess rock barricading your heart will have to stay for today.
‘My girlfriend is in trouble,’ he genuinely likes this one.
Maybe this would be the key to getting over you?
‘You should call Tae to pick you up,’ his name no longer holding bitterness. Yoongi has grown attached to the man now equipped with cerulean blue hair. He was a bit quirky, yet sweet. A lot quirky actually. But... Nonetheless, sweet.
‘I will! Please call me once you get home.’
And soon he realised how wrong that statement would be. There is no key to getting over you. Even if there is, It sure isn’t humanely possible.
You have his heart in your hands. You have the power to crush it into pieces or to protect it with all of your might. At the moment, you have it dangling from your hands. So close, yet so far... That was Yoongi and Y/N - you and him.
With your departure, bits of his happiness trail after you. His heart plunged out of his chest.
He’ll help her today, but break up the next. It's the least he could do out of decent courtesy.
However.. when he arrived he was pulled away. A pair of lips pressed to his.
‘You came,’ her hands placed blatantly on his neck.
‘Hwa-Young!’ he pulls away.
‘Hwa-Young,’ those same words graze your lips as it did his.
The one that left you behind for a rumour. The friend who promised she would stick with you until the very end, but left before the waters even thickened.
Hwa-Young.. A beautiful flower. She was beautiful alright. But some flowers are just so rotten inside, even their petals start falling apart.
Did Yoongi leave you just to kiss her? Did Yoongi bail on your date for this? Were you to a point so not worthy of his attention, that he’d rather spend it with someone else? Stop! Stop! You can’t just assume what is going on, without knowing what happened!
That's right! You can ask Yoongi tomorrow. He’ll explain to you everything. And all will be fine. He did not leave you to kiss your former friend. He probably doesn't even know who she is. If he does, he’ll probably break up with her. But.. What if Yoongi loves her. You don't want to be in his way. But... Your friendship!!
It’s all too much for your brain to comprehend.. Your head feels like it's about to explode, and you can’t stop the tears from coming. You had no one but yourself if Yoongi we're to leave.
You can’t fend for yourself again!
Lone wolves are always the first to go. Lone wolves are always the most vulnerable to pain, trouble and death. That's how it is. And how it always will be.
Wait! Wait! You have Taehyung.. You aren’t alone after all.
‘Fuck..’ you cuss, the gateway to agony’s twin sister staring right at you. Your existence, a speck of sculpting debris to be thrown out with the rest.
‘I’m finally home,’ not a glance to be given. Not a bother to be seen. And not another word to be spoken.
Yoonie (Best Friend) - Direct Message
You: I saw you
You: With her
Yoongi: It’s not what it looks like
You: That's what they all say
You: Good night, Min
‘Y/N! Honey!’ you know very well of what you had to do.
You have to talk. You have to let him explain himself.
‘Yoongi..’ your downhearted expression causes a rift between his sadness and anxiety. A rift that was indecipherable from start to finish.
‘Bench?’ he suggests, not wanting your legs to ache by the time this conversation ends.
‘Mhmm,’ you mumble incoherently.
‘I liked this one more than I did others,’ he admits, covering your legs with his varsity jacket. He’s not letting you shrivel up in the cold. Not now, or ever..
‘You do?’ you lean onto him, taking his warmth in with you.
‘I did,’ he corrects.
‘She tricked me. She called saying that her car was being towed away and that she needed help. When I arrived, there was no car or truck. I was pushed into the corner, and she started kissing me. That's when I knew, she wasn't the one.’
That there was no one like you, he wanted to say.
‘That’s terrible,’ you sigh, your anger soothing away.
Yoongi would never do that to you. You have let your doubt towards this world and its people get to you once again. But... Can anyone blame you? It was them who made you this way.
Inside you smiled, knowing he was sticking by your side no matter what happens. Your bitterness towards Hwa-Young intense.
‘Now.. Your story.’
‘I was walking home and I saw you and her.. Kissing.. Then.. I- left,’ you halt.
‘She’s the friend I told you about in the beginning,’ if he was resentful before, now he was enraged.
‘I’m sorry,’ even if he didn't know before, he felt the need to apologise. And so he did.
‘You didn't know. The fact that you dated her hurts me. But... You didn't know.’
‘Are we still best friends?’ he hopes that title, regardless of this, continues to stand.
‘Yoongi. Our friendship is much more than that.’
He knows that. He was just testing.
‘So.. If I were to kiss you right now, you wouldn’t mind it?’ your heart.. Sjdbhdhdjdhfhf What the blueberry muffins and oranges is this man trying to do!?!!
‘I’m with Taehyung,’ that hits him hard.
‘That was an insensitive question. Wasn't it?’ he timidly covers up his face.
‘Just don’t let Tae hear you,’ you both giggle.
Yet neither one of you mean it.
You’ve never kissed Tae before. You have had a platonic relationship all the way from day one to now.
‘You don’t like me.. do you?’
‘Wu-what do- you mean by that,’ you were always bad at lying.
‘Yoongi? You like him. Don’t you?’
‘I just do.’
He wanted to say: ‘You look at each other as though you are in love.’ But... He didn't.
‘Don’t tell him,’ oh how familiar those words are.
‘Do you like her?’
‘What?!’ he needed a more specific question.
‘Do you like Y/N?’ that freezes him in place. His body is like stone that is unable to move about.
‘Y/N.. What? Yeah, she's my best friend. Of course, I like her,’ he firmly asserts.
‘Not like that. You know what I mean.’
‘Fine.. Fine.. You win. I like Y/N.’
‘Don’t tell her,’ he snorts at the memory of Yoongi pleading ever so desperately.
‘We should go inside.. Shouldn't we?’ his fingers lace with yours, sauntering along as he carefully brings you with him.
‘We graduate in four more months. Isn’t that crazy?’
Four Months Later ↴
‘Happy Graduation!’ the three of you clatter your glasses filled with fizzing soda together.
‘The day we break up,’ you thought.
‘The day they break up,’ he thought.
Shit! What if Taehyung doesn't want to end this? Shit! Wouldn't Y/N end up hurt by this?
‘We broke up,’ if he’s shocked, he sure doesn’t show it.
He always knew this day was going to come sooner or later. What he was going to feel or how he was going to deal with it, on the other hand, is something he didn’t know.
‘Where is Y/N? Is she okay? Oh.. Tae..’ he collapses into his arms.
Shit.. Shit!! His heart! The love of his life crying about you in his arms. About nine months ago, he would have taken this as an opportunity for him to snatch Yoongi up. But… this love story doesn’t include him. He’s a mere side character that blurs away in the background. A character that can either break or make the story. For as much as how trivial he is, his decisions affect the story.
And he was no monster.
‘She’s at home. She dumped me.’
‘She dumped you?’ oh how foolish Yoongi was, Taehyung had thought. He himself was not any different though. A fool in love.. Too blind to see the truth in front of him.
‘Are you hurt? Do you like her?’ he didn't need to be reminded of his reality.
What was he supposed to say? No.. I don't. I don't like her that way. You.. See. I’m not attracted to women. Y/N is this wonderful woman and I adore her more than anything in this world (maybe a little more than I adore you) but she’s like my little sister. Okay Okay.. She’s older than I am. But, you get what I mean. She’s like a sister to me.
‘No,’ nor does she like me he almost says. In that sense of course.
‘Take care. Get home safely, Tae,’ those words ring in his ear.
Why are you so caring Min Yoongi? Make me hate you! Make me hate you! Because you being kind is worse than you not being mine.
Oh, Y/Niee.. Sweep him off of his feet already. I want to move on.
‘Y/N! Are you in there, honey!’ the knocks that pass through to you is just another reminder of how love will never be yours.
‘Yoongi?’ your voice is tiny as you open the door.
‘Food,’ he lifts the lunch box to show you.
‘I dumped him.’
‘I know,’ he releases the food to the open world.
‘I know about your request,’ shit.. is that why.
‘Are you mad at me?’ you bastard, that's not what you are supposed to say.
‘That’s why I agreed on the date,’ you take the chopsticks out.
Why should you lie?
‘Do you love him?’ Min Yoongi, you stupid fuck!
‘No,’ he wasn't relieved.
‘Why the nine months?’
‘Becuase I wanted to love him,’ because I love you.
‘It didn't work though. You can’t fool this,’ you put your hand against your beating heart.
‘You had a crush on him?’
‘Admiration and love are two different things,’ he sticks the spoon into the soup.
‘Do you feel like eating?’
Do you feel like anything?
‘No,’ he tugs the food back into its packaging.
‘Those mugs we made. Remember them?’ you nod.
‘Do you want yours?’ you nod.
‘They came out nice,’ a subtle smile moulds onto your face.
‘We’ve been distant these four months. Only talking at school, and barely meeting up outside. Even the conversations held at school were scarce.’
Avoiding him was your way of coping.
‘Was it Hwa-Young?’
Hwa-Young didn't bother you, the way his lips embraced hers did. It snapped something inside you. A brutal mess of phrases in your head that wouldn’t stop returning. ‘He’ll never kiss you like that.’ ‘He’ll never be yours.’ ‘He’ll never love you like that.
‘Then what was it?’ a single presence of happiness never glazes his face.
‘Does there have to be a reason for everything?’
‘Y/N.. I’m trying to fix this relationship.’
Yoongi.. I’m trying to protect myself.
‘Get out,’ you’re not keen on starting a fight.
‘Don’t forget to eat what I brought,’ he closes the door, his lingering warmth on the couch floating away just as your loneliness kicks in once again.
A Week Later ↴
‘Hello... It’s me..’
‘Y/N,’ his eyebrows quirk up at your voice, ‘How are you?’
‘Yoongi. It's been a week since I have seen him, Tae.’
‘What happened?’ concern he had shown.
‘I shut him out.. I didn't - don't want to get hurt. Not like this.’
‘I saw him yesterday. I asked about you, and he said you were doing great.’
‘Bastard,’ you couldn't help but hiss.
‘He didn't look good, Y/N. We were catching up over lunch yesterday, and the whole time he was grumpy and extra pissy. Kept on looking at his phone as though someone were to message him. Nothing ever came, and he pouted throughout the whole hour.’
‘He barely took two bites of the food he ordered.’
Frowns.. Frowns. Oh, silly little thing. He should be taking care of himself.
‘Maybe he didn't like it.’
‘We were at his mother’s dumpling shop. He ordered dumpling soup. His favourite.’
You foolish bastard..
‘You should check on hi-’
‘No.. You should,’ he cuts you off.
‘I’m done playing middleman. How long are you going to drag this on? You like him, and he-’
‘Never mind.. It isn’t my place to tell you this. Have a nice day, Y/N.’
The phone call ends, and you go rushing for your coat.
‘You’re here,’ he was a little kitty waiting for its owner to come home.
‘Y/N!’ he isn’t a man of affection, but hugging you was necessary.
‘It’s cold,’ he hauls you inside.
‘I missed you,’ you break the silence away.
‘I did too.’
‘Why have you been avoiding me recently?’
‘Do I have to answer that?’
‘Goodness gracious, Y/N... I love you.’
The last time he cried in front of someone was when people allowed it. When he was a six-year-old child who was oblivious to what the cruel world could offer. The last time he cried was when he was showering. His whimpers blended in with the quiet of the night and that of the water trickling down his back and legs.
The water could hide his pain, casting him in a shield of protection. ‘Why can’t you be mine?’ he initially wanted to scream then. But, energy was something he no longer possessed. All that came out was a low sob of distress.
Words Y/N! Words...
‘I’m leaving for Paris tomorrow. Let's have one last movie night at my place.’
First the ‘I love you,’ and now this?
You lost him once. And now he was about to slip through your fingers yet again.
Min Yoongi is no piece of stone that you can easily keep in place. He’s sand. He’ll get away one way or the other.
‘Titanic.. Why titanic? I thought you weren't one for romance.’
Ever since you came into his life, he had been a sucker for romance novels and movies. Specifically: unrequited love stories with happy endings. That’s his favourite thing to watch over a weekend. Or rather, tear his eyes out wishing you were his as the male lead somehow gets the girl.
‘I love Romance.’
‘Okay.. Okay, mister.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you.’
Get out of my head, Min Yoongi!
Did she not hear what I said?
‘Y/N?’ you fell asleep.
Your brain couldn't handle all of that. Your body couldn't handle of that. Your heart couldn't handle all of that.
‘I fell asleep last night. Didn’t I?’
‘I’ve got to take this,’ you direct at the phone.
‘Your morning tea is waiting for you on this table.’
‘Paris. He’s going-’
‘Damit.. You fools! Yoongi likes you.’
‘We’re best friends.’
‘He loves you.’
‘Best Friends can love each other.’
‘Goodness me oh my.. He has a fucking crush on you.’
‘He told me.’
‘Confess already. Don’t let him get away..’
‘I won’t ask him to stay. Sculpting is his life.’
‘Plus, long-distance relationships don’t work.’
‘Just get it off of your chest.’
I’ll never get to do so myself.
‘I’m at his house.’
‘I’m leaving for Spain.’
‘What? You too?’
‘In the end, all I have is myself.. Isn’t it?’
‘Don’t be sorry. I’ll survive somehow.’
Time of Departure ↴
‘Yoongi.. Before you leave, I want to tell you the real reason to why I broke up with Taehyung.’
You stood there, desperately hoping it will all turn out well.
‘Y/N.. Can’t you tell me some other time,’ his luggage is propped up against the wall, his legs leaning against the door.
‘There is no other time.’
‘Is it important?’ he pouts.
‘It very much is,’ you confidently state.
‘Now.. Go on.’
‘I- I like you.’
‘And I love you,’ he knows what’s coming next, yet he didn't want to give up.
Even if there’s only a pinch of hope left.
‘I do too,’ you look into his eyes, the darkness within it glimmering with a dot of unrelenting wishfulness.
‘Not like that, you fool. I love you.. As in- As in: I want to push you against the wall and kiss you stupid.’
‘Yeah.. That I love you,’ you smile, rubbing your fingers over and over again.
‘I’ve been crushing on you ever since we were six. When we were eleven I’d follow you around like a lost puppy. And then you moved away. But the universe wanted us to meet again. We did.’
‘Eight-year-old me wanted to marry you. We can’t do that just yet. But..’
‘Min Yoongi.. The one with the lovely eyes who talks way too much and can’t focus for fuck’s sake. Will you be my boyfriend?’
He nods, his cheeks pink.
‘Now go on.. Go to Paris and become a megastar of a sculptor, or whatever people these days call it.’
Long-distance relationships. You were so against that idea. After all: ‘Out of Sight, Out of Mind.’
However, this was the boy who had haunted your dreams for the seven years he was gone. He’s an exception. Always was and always will be.
You thought he’d leave. You thought he’d walk away. But.. He didn't.
He embraced you into a tight hug.
Oh how badly he had been yearning for this moment to arrive.
‘You know Y/N, I never thought I’d see you again. I’m so glad I did,’ his words vibrate against your neck.
‘There are plenty of colleges in Korea where I can major in sculpting.’
‘Shh.. Let me confess something,’ his fingers touch your lips, hushing you.
‘Paris was just me trying to run away from what I wanted and needed. You.’
‘No,’ you cut him off, ‘I get to say it.’
‘You already did.’
‘Does it look like I care whether I have said it or not?’
‘Then.. Will you be my fluffy little dumping?’
Smiles.. Smiles.. Oh, how could you stop smiling?
Tears.. Tears.. Oh, how could you stop crying?
‘Yoongi! Yoongi!’ your lungs could drop out any second now.
‘He can’t hear you. We’re ghosts in this realm,’ Jimin looks over to your puffy eyes.
‘Why me? Why did I have to die? Why me?’
‘Namjoon’s next,’ the angel ticks something off with his quill.
‘All of this is just business to you.. Isn’t it?’
‘My memories are nothing but something you have to tick off of that stupid list of yours. Isn’t it?’
‘It’s my job,’ not a douse of sympathy to be shown.
‘You’re a devil. Not an angel.’
‘I’m just Jimin.’
‘Fuck you Jimin.’
Min Yoongi has invited to you to his sculpting exhibition!
61 notes · View notes
pairing: taehyung x reader
pg; no warnings; just fluff
from here you can send me more if you want <333
35. “You keep saying that we’re friends but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true.”
You looked to the side, finding a girl around your age standing nervously. You smiled warmly at her. Don’t know what exactly she had to be nervous about. Your resting face wasn’t the nicest, but she seemed to have at least 4 inches on you. Not that that would matter if y’all were ever to get into it, but still. You were mostly harmless. “Hiiii.”
“Um, I really don’t mean to offend you. But…” You raised your eyebrows at her. You were starting to get nervous. She cleared her throat. “…Is that your boyfriend?”
You looked over to where she was pointing a few feet away at Taehyung, nonchalantly browsing a rack. Was he your boyfriend? No. Did you want him to be? That wasn’t a question you were ready to answer yet. But, did you want him to be somebody else’s? Absolutely not. As if he could sense your stares, he turned in your direction. The girl cowered slightly as he began walking over. Your once warm smile cooled off significantly. “No, we’re just friends,” you offered reluctantly. Regardless of your feelings, whatever they were, what he decided to do or not do with her was none of your business.
“Who’s friends?” Tae asked upon arrival, looking between you and your unwanted guest.
He blinked at you. “Hmmm.”
You stared back at him. “What?”
The girl interjected, interrupting your stare down. “So, can I get your number?”
Tae slowly pulled his gaze from you and smiled softly at the girl. You held your breath, anger already beginning to bubble at the pit of your stomach. “I’m sorry, but there’s already someone I like.”
You snapped your head to him, eyes widening. The girl looked conspiratorially in between the two of you before bowing politely. “Oh. I’m sorry. Have a nice day then.”
You exhaled, rolling your eyes as she scampered off. You moved to walk away, irritated with the situation even though it ended in pretty much how you hoped it would, but Tae stepped in front of you. “Just friends?”
“You sure?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“We are,” you stressed.
“Okay, then.” He shrugged, smug smile stuck on his lips.
“I didn’t say anything.”
You wanted to smack him because even though he wasn’t saying anything, everything was written all over his face. “You didn’t have to.”
He breathed out a laugh. “Well, am I wrong?”
“Yes,” you insist. You don’t know why you were putting up a front. There was definitely something brewing between you two. You brushed past him, ready to get away from this conversation and continue shopping, but he wrapped his arms around your middle before you could get away.
“____?” You couldn’t breathe, let alone answer his question. “You keep saying we’re friends, but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true.”
59 notes · View notes
ten minutes | pjm
pairing: park jimin x reader
genre: fluff, suggestive
warnings: go to h*rny jail bonk!!!
word count: 650
a/n: i wrote this the other day when i saw these photos and then i forgot to post it lol
You sit on top of your suitcase with a huff, the few last-minute items that you had added making the luggage just too full to zip shut. You would get it though, that extra sweater was coming if it was the last thing you did.
“Is it a little full?” Jimin prompts, rounding the corner from the hallway to stand in the doorway of the bedroom. You hear him laugh at you as you struggle to close the zipper, exerting way more energy than you cared to admit.
“I may have packed too much,” you joke, finally succeeding in closing the zipper, brushing the hair off your forehead and letting out a small sigh.
“Really?” he teases, pushing off the wall and walking towards you, helping you pick the heavy luggage off the floor, forever the gentleman. You let out another sigh as he props up the suitcase and rolls it to the door.
It's then that you get a good look at him since he's finished getting ready. He's in black from head to toe, the Louis Vuitton sweatshirt he had been so excited about getting and the one of his favorite pairs of jeans. His hair is pushed back into a hat, long enough that it sticks out at his neck.
He looks fucking hot.
“You okay?” you hear him cut through the daydreaming, his eyebrow raising with a smile.
You let out a small hum, chewing on your lip as you step closer to him. There's a reply on the tip of your, but you're not quite done taking him in yet. His face is covered in confusion at your silence, gaze dropping to admire the outfit once again.
“Do we have to leave right now?” you question finally, closing the distance between him and you and resting your palms against his waist.
He lets out a laugh, realization hitting him all at once. “Yeah, baby,” he answers, resting his fingers under your chin and lifting your gaze. “We really do need to leave right now,” he insists, “otherwise we'll be late.” He leans down to press a kiss against the bridge of your nose, and then another on the corner of your mouth.
“But, like,” you continue, squeezing his waist, “how late?” You trail your hands down to the hem of his shirt, tucking your fingers under the fabric and looping them through the whole of his belt loops. You use your new hold on him to your advantage, pulling him flush against you, his chest pressed against yours. You can't stop, you know if Jimin says you'll be late it's probably not just late, but really late.
“Y/n…” he warns, his voice just a little serious, though he makes no attempt to move away, his hands grabbing onto your triceps.
“We don't even have, like,” you persist, “ten minutes?” You push slightly closer to settle your lips against the column of his neck, your mouth pressing light, and then not so light, kisses against the mouth.
He lets out a sigh, tilting his head slightly to allow your lips to work more easily against the skin. He trails his hands to your waist, his tight grip contradicting his words. You think he's caved, that you'll get what to you want and he'll press you into the mattress, or maybe against the wall, or the desk, or the-
“Baby,” he insists one more time, using his newfound hold on your torso to push you further away, effectively removing your mouth from him. “We really do not have time. I'm sure the guys are already waiting.”
You pull your hands from his waistband, grabbing his hand from your waist to press a chaste kiss against his palm. “Fine,” you resign with a pout. “But next time you're gonna look like this,” you pause, looking at his outfit again, “we better not be running late.”
92 notes · View notes
russian roulette, ot7
→ summary. Visiting your longtime best friend and her adorable little brother, you decide to make it a great chance to have fun before heading back to your suffocating life with your even more suffocating boyfriend. There were just two problems. One, you hate Los Angeles with a burning passion, even more during pageant season. Two, Los Angeles would only prove to be worse than ever before now that your best friend was nowhere to be seen. And if there’s one thing you learned from your militant father, it’s to never leave family behind. That much was proving difficult, since the police, the people who were supposed to help you, were under the biggest cartels hold. But you’d do anything for her— even if it meant aligning yourself with the group of Korean men who ran all of SoCal.
an act of bravado consisting of spinning the cylinder of a revolver loaded with one cartridge, pointing the muzzle at one's own head, and pulling the trigger. whether you had nine lives, or just this one — you’d stop at nothing to get seulgi back to her brother.
→ genre. mafia/cartel!au, action, smut, romance,
→ paring. poly!bts x f!reader
→ warnings. cartels, gun violence, heavy action, strong mentions of drug dealing & sex work (pros), violence, blood, injuries, curse words, polygamy, sort of being held hostage? it’s more of a yn staying for help even tho she hates it, slight yandere themes, eventual smut. every chapter will have more in depth warnings as to what pertains to it, but if you see a warnings u truly need, pls don’t be afraid to reach out to me!
→ taglist. is open! just send me an ask! please don’t leave a comment or send a pm, i won’t get the notifications and it’ll land you on the list extremely late!
→ authors note. after much contemplation, i decided i really wanted to post this series!!! while ik most of u follow for my yandere works, i hope u still enjoy this dark themed fic!! it’s going to be a mixture of a mafia and cartel, which i hope u all enjoy the plot as well!! i suddenly got this idea after watching ‘miss bala’ on a sketchy website 😭 so im sorry if a scene or two are familiar HAHAHAHA.
one. the city of angels! and death.
two. birds of a feather.
more to be added!
99 notes · View notes
A Normal Friday Afternoon
drabble #1 from the Spellbound series
pairing: Jungkook x reader
genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au
word count: 2.2k
warnings: violence (oc punches jungkook in the face), swearing
It’s a normal Friday afternoon at Hogwarts, meaning everyone is going insane. You wonder why Professor Snape even bothers teaching Potions right now since it doesn’t look like anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention. He even chose a hard potion for the class to make, individually this time. As if making it an individual assignment could stop a group of annoying 17-year-olds from wreaking havoc.
You flicker your eyes in annoyance at Jeon Jungkook and his rowdy group of friends. They had created a game where they launch the ingredients into each others’ cauldrons, giving each other points based on how close it got. Usually you try to get along with your classmates, especially fellow Gryffindors, but Jungkook has always been the sole exception. There’s something about him that grates all of your nerves like a carrot. Maybe it’s the way he’s good at all the same things you are, but he makes it seem more effortless. Maybe it’s the way everyone thinks he’s so innocent and kind, when he’s been metaphorically (and literally) pulling on your hair since first year.
It started with the little things. You were friendly to him, like you are to everyone, and as an 11-year-old, you had nothing to complain about. Something changed one day when you were walking past him in the hallway to class and he hit you with a hex that he hadn’t mastered yet. You remember falling to the ground in pain, watching your stinging flesh go boneless. And Jungkook? He was laughing.
You’re no less of a witch or a Gryffindor though. With your limp arm, you cast the strongest dancing hex you could muster. It worked, of course, and Jungkook was known as “Happy Feet” for at least another year for the way he danced around Hogwarts that day.
It’s a memory you keep close, as a reminder to never trust the sweet smile and starry eyes of Jeon Jungkook.
If you looked at all of the detentions you’ve served in your 6 years of being a Hogwarts student (and there are plenty), you’re sure 99% would have been from fighting with Jungkook, whether it’s yelling at him, cursing him, or swatting him with your broomstick in midair during Quidditch practice. Because of course he would join the Quidditch team at the same time you did.
You’re not in the mood for fighting today, though. You’re exhausted from a frankly awful week, and you just want to finish your stupid potion, get your stupid grade, and go to your stupid dorm so you can sleep.
Your only good friend in this potions class is a Ravenclaw girl named Nina. For a Ravenclaw, she’s chatty, and she flits around you while you grind up asphodel root for your potion. With a quick slide of your knife, you dump the crushed root into your potion. It bubbled. Beside you, Nina bubbled even more, her personality like soda that had been shaken too hard.
“-and then Emilia told me that she asked Irene if she would go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend, but Irene said she’s already going with Jieun, but Sam told me that Jieun is going alone, so what’s even the truth? You’d think that she’d at least-”
“Maybe you should mind your business.” You give her a sour look, and you hope it isn’t too harsh. “Just a thought.”
Nina’s mouth curls into a rueful smile. “You’re spending too much time with Yoongi lately.”
You crack a smile at the thought of your best friend and his (only partly true) reputation. No one dares cross Min Yoongi, a 7th year Slytherin with a killer poker face. As one of his best friends, you can see right through it.
“There’s no such thing as too much time with Yoongi,” you grumble.
Nina leaves you alone after that, thank god. You usually have a higher tolerance for her chattiness and gossip, but today your patience is running thin. Luckily, she knows you well enough to not seem upset at your attitude.
You sprinkle a serum into the potion before stirring it clockwise ten times. It’s the last step of the potion, and yours is already turning the perfect shade of mint green. You count to yourself as you stir: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-
You don’t make it to ten. You were so goddamn close.
You don’t register who curses. All you can see is a bottle of serum—someone else’s bottle of serum— being launched straight into your cauldron, and your entire potion splattering onto your front. Your robes sizzle where the potion hit them.
You recognize that voice. How could you not? You almost want to laugh.
Fucking Jeon Jungkook.
The leech lumbers up to you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “My bad. We were playing a game, and I missed pretty bad.”
He chuckles a little, surveying the green ooze all over you. “Green is your color, Y/N. Maybe they should’ve put you in Slytherin.”
A temper is not one of the traits associated with Gryffindor, but at that moment, you think maybe it should be. Lions do roar, after all.
And roar is exactly what you do. Roar and knock Jungkook the fuck out.
The room is in chaos: Professor Snape is yelling, Nina is telling you to calm down, Jungkook is on the ground in front of you, more shocked than hurt, and half the class is chanting “Fight!” because the adolescent urge to create violence never truly dies.
“Take this outside!” Snape shouts at the two of you, grabbing you both by the collar of your robes. “Fight in the hallways, I don’t care, but this is not going to happen in my classroom. When you’re done, head to McGonagall’s office. I’m sure she’d like to have a word with you two delinquents.”
Jungkook stares at you, rubbing at the bruise blooming on his cheek.
The door swings closed, slamming in your face. With a huff, you turn around and vanish the potion residue still left on your clothes with a quick spell. You barely spare a glance for Jungkook. He stands several feet away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.
“Do you have something to say?” You snap.
He opens his mouth. Then closes it.
You roll your eyes. “Listen, Jeon. I know you did that on purpose. Very funny prank, absolutely hilarious. Truly, I’m rolling on the floor laughing right now.”
Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor as if he expected to see you there, laughing.
“Let’s just go to McGonagall’s already,” you say, posture slumping at the thought of being yelled at by the intimidating professor.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, and you see him gain some of his usual bravado. “We were playing a game, I already explained this to you.”
You bark out a laugh, just one. “I’m not stupid.”
He cocks a brow. “Are you sure? I bet my potion was better than yours even though I was dicking around for the entire class.”
“Hit a nerve?”
It’s like this, for the long, long, long trek from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower where McGonagall’s office is.
“You know, you don’t have to be such an asshole all the time,” you say, turning the corner. Jungkook jogs after you to keep up.
“I don’t? No way, all this time I thought it was mandatory.”
He sounds more upset than snarky, and in your present state of blind rage, you don’t have a single clue why he would be upset. He’s the one who ruined your potion and got you sent to McGonagall’s office. He’s the one who has been a splinter the size of Greenland in your thumb for five years and counting.
“Besides,” he adds, as if you wanted to have a conversation with him, “you’re the one who fucking punched me in the face. It’s kinda hypocritical to call me an asshole in this situation.”
“That’s a really big word, Jungkook. Did you finally learn how to read?”
Jungkook’s face crumples into a frown. “Shut up.”
“Hit a nerve?” You mock.
You think getting to McGonagall’s office is a relief until you’re finally there. McGonagall is all but screeching at the two of you. You’ve heard the same lecture several hundred times, but never in such a high pitch. You offer to make her some herbal tea for her throat, and she only gives you the evil eye. Jungkook snorts beside you. You ignore him, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow.
“Never in my days…”
“...Such stupidity from my own students!”
You fade in and out of consciousness during the lecture, and one look at Jungkook tells you he’s doing the same.
“Detention for both of you. I will see the two of you here at 9 pm sharp every day for the rest of the week,” McGonagall finally says.
“I’m being generous,” McGonagall says. “If I see the two of you acting like violent animals again, I can and will suspend you both from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”
You and Jungkook both make sounds of protest, only to be drowned out by McGonagall.
“I hate to see my own team lose, but it has been five years of your childish fights. You two will learn to be civil to each other, and I will make sure of it.”
The tone of her voice makes you uneasy. Jungkook beats you to the question that’s on both of your minds. “What are you going to do to us?”
The fear in his voice would make you smile if you weren’t practically shaking in your boots yourself.
“As you know, in Transfiguration, I am going to be having everyone work in teams this year. I was going to let you choose your partners, but you two have not earned that privilege.”
You turn to face Jungkook. He’s staring back at you in wide-eyed horror.
“You both are now partners in Transfiguration. Sit by each other and complete the projects together. I will not tolerate any misbehaving in my class, and if you don’t work as a team, you will be risking your own grades.” McGonagall stares at the two of you with the smallest of smiles, disgustingly smug. She’s enjoying this, and you hate her for it.
“I won’t hear it!” She shouts. Jungkook recoils. “This is final. If you have a problem, you should’ve thought about that before brawling like wrestlers in Potions.”
You hang your head, staring at how the end of your robes skims your shoes. You don’t like to be dramatic, but this sure feels like the end of the world. The rest of your year is probably ruined, thanks to McGonagall essentially sentencing you to Jungkook duty. Not to mention Transfiguration is your hardest class, even without having to compete with Jungkook. You don’t doubt that this would make everything so much harder.
“That’s all I have to say to you. Please leave,” McGonagall says, pressing a thumb and index finger into her forehead.
The two of you file out of her office, stumbling down the empty hallway. You walk in silence, thankful that classes aren’t out yet. You stop a few corridors down, and Jungkook stops next to you.
You look at him, really look at him. Other than the bruise on his face a la you, he has a sweet face and kind eyes. You remind yourself that it’s fake.
You take a step closer to him, and he tilts his head at you, nonplussed.
You brush a hand on his cheekbone, where you hit him.
“Does it hurt?” You ask.
The hallway is empty, but Jungkook still looks both ways before responding to you, as if you were a car hurtling towards him on the street. He gulps at your proximity to him, how he can feel your breath mingling with his own and your fingertips’ gentle pressure on his face.
“A little,” he says, quieter than you. “You really know how to use your fists, huh?”
He laughs. To your ears, it sounds forced. You smile. Checkmate.
Without warning, you grab his tie and jerk his face down to yours, leaving just a breath of space between your noses. You lean even closer to Jungkook, and a smile ghosts your lips when you feel him moving closer to you at the same time. You wait for one more moment, letting your warm breath hit his skin. The moment he closes his eyes, you whisper, “Good.”
His eyes flutter back open, confused, and you take your foot and slam it down on his. He all but howls in pain, nearly knocking his head into yours as he hops away.
"What was that for?"
"If you still don't know, then maybe I need to step on you again." You narrow your eyes at him, still close enough to register the clean linen smell of his clothes. “Do not cross me again. I need a good grade in Transfiguration this year, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.”
"McGonagall is right there. I could go tell her," he threatens. His eyes are wide, and you pick up on the slightest fear under his façade of arrogance.
"Okay, do it. See if I care, asshole."
You spin on your heel and storm down the corridor, leaving a stunned Jungkook in your wake.
56 notes · View notes
Somewhere I can breathe 17
Sum: Being a stray hybrid in the city is suffocating. In search of a clearer mind, body, and soul you head to the country. In a way it’s much what you expected. Two things are different. There’s a group of seven boys you never expected to meet, and despite the change in location something still seems to be keeping you from breathing freely.
Somewhere I can breathe Masterlist
Namjoon had contacted a friend of his from vet school. The friend was now an employee at a hybrid rights organization. The organization helped out and rescued hybrids in all sorts of bad conditions.
Though hybrids were not yet technically free, the organization could buy the hybrids from their previous owners and give the hybrids as close to a free life as possible. They technically owned the hybrid, but required nothing from them. They helped rescued hybrids find a job and a safe place to live, then recede from their lives. They kept in contact, allowing the hybrids to come to them if they needed help or if the organization needed information to help another hybrid they would sometimes ask the already rescued if they knew anything about the case.
He had made an appointment in the city with the friend. It was a couple weeks after you’d had your nightmare. Everything was wet. The snow had melted, and though things still remained rather grey you could practically feel the world around you waiting to burst into spring. You were a little mad that your trip might make you miss the beginning of spring in the country. So here you were, in the grey morning light. The sun wasn’t yet above the horizon. Everything had a sort of silvery glimmer. You were helping pile a couple of bags in Yoongi’s car. For some reason Yoongi had decided to come along. Initially it was just supposed to be you, Tae and Namjoon. Yoongi had simply told you that he was going to be driving the car. Jin had packed lunch for the four of you. Jimin Jungkook and Hobi were also standing around holding their morning beverages. Jungkook of course had his banana milk. As Taehyung and Namjoon were going over last minute checks, Jimin came up beside you and placed his hand on your shoulder.
“I thought I’d remind you about something. So… you’re going back to the city, and you know it’s going to be a rollercoaster ride.”
You sighed. “Yeah I know”
“You’ve been doing good lately, at sharing I mean. Tae’s doing this for your feelings, we all want you to feel comfortable. You have to make sure you share what you’re thinking with him though. He can’t help you if you don’t”
You smiled slightly. “It’s ok, Chim. I’ll be alright.” You leaned forward and gave him a quick hug. Inside you were terrified but you were determined to do what you had to do in order to finally leave your past in the past. A few minutes later you climbed into the backseat with Taehyung. You waved at Tannie in Hoseok arms. He would be dog sitting while you were away.
A thought occurred to you as you drove out of Taehyung’s lane. You would not necessarily be coming back.
Oh well, you would enjoy the country as long as you could. You rolled down the window. The air was thankfully warm enough that you could do so without freezing. You spent several hours rolling down the same gravel road that you’d first walked on months and months ago. You passed the same bit of stream that you remembered from then. Now though, it was swollen with melted snow, threatening to spill over the banks and rush off with bits of debris. You watched in dismay as the trees slowly became scrubby and then disappeared.
You took a bathroom break at the same desolated gas station you’d stolen chocolate bars from. When Taehyung asked you why you stared at it the way you did you truthfully told him that you’d slept behind the recycling bins at the side of the building. Taehyung scrunched his face in distaste. You’d come a long way since then. You’d experienced so much comfort. You knew that if you ever had to return to that lifestyle it would be harder than ever.
You ate lunch in the car, Namjoon fork-feeding Yoongi as he drove. The buildings of the city loomed in the distance and soon you were driving across the bridge. You were so familiar with the world around you as you passed through a nasty area of the city. You knew all these crumbled, boarded up, graffiti covered buildings like the back of your hand.
“Y/n?” Taehyung asked hesitantly. You realized you had been staring out the window with your eyes glazed. You smiled apologetically before your mood fell sour again.
“Welcome to my childhood home guys” you said sarcastically.
“Here?” Namjoon asked.
“Anywhere and everywhere like this. I could never stay in one place for long.” The car fell silent. “Oh there's the park fountain where Lil and I took baths.” you mentioned as you passed the leaking, corroded fountain, covered in plastic for the winter.
Around three in the afternoon, you pulled into a space in a crowded parking garage. You stepped out onto the familiar feeling concrete, breathing in the old stale smell. You could feel all your memories clouding the air. Nervous, you pulled the hood of your new coat over your ears and you tucked your tail down your pant leg. No one could tell you were a hybrid now, except for other hybrids who could smell you.
Namjoon followed the directions to his friend's office on his phone. The other three of you trailed after him. You kept your head bowed, avoiding eye contact with passers by. Some of your old habits also came back. You walked quietly and lightly, bent slightly to make you smaller. Under your hood, your ears flicked back and forth anxiously, listening for any sign of danger. An old tight feeling settled yourself in your gut, and you realized it was just your intense survival instincts that you had not really used in ages. You’d never even realized you had relaxed until you were all tensed again.
Wordlessly, you felt Taehyung wrap his hand around yours. When you looked up, he wasn’t looking at you but had his head held high confidently and was looking around. He was observing the world that was second nature to you. You gently squeezed his hand in thanks. The walk felt long, though in reality it was only a couple of blocks.
You walked through pristine doors and relaxed at the scent of hundreds of hybrids that permeated the air. You fit in so perfectly no one would question your presence here. You looked up to see many people swarming around in the large hobby. There were hybrids, a few friendly looking hybrid owners and staff. There were many vets as well. You spotted several people in suits or skirts. You found yourself slightly pleased when you spotted a woman in a suit carefully cradling a hybrid baby as the baby’s mother talked to someone at the help counter. It struck you how trusting everyone seemed of each other here, especially between hybrids and humans.
Namjoon walked up to the receptionist’s desk, and the rest of you followed.
“I’m Kim Namjoon. I have an appointment with Max?”
“Yes sir, I see it. Well head on back to room 77, he should be waiting for you there.”
“Thank you” you all murmured before heading down the hallway she pointed you toward. You followed the signs up a staircase to the second floor where all the offices were. The first floor was for more public services. Namjoon knocked on the door with Max’s name on it.
“Come in.” you heard and Namjoon pushed the door open.
“Hello Max, long time no see.” Namjoon called.
“Joon! My gosh hi! How's the country vet business going?” Max asked, hopping up from his desk to vigorously shake Namjoon’s hand.
“Good, and you?”
“Well I’m here, and not to brag, but I think I’ve done pretty well, I’m the assistant manager of the department.” Max said, puffing out his chest. You decided you liked Max. He was about Namjoon’s age, fit, and dressed in dress pants and a buttoned white shirt. He just seemed friendly, though not over the top. His hair was quite short, but neat and he was clean shaven. “Anyhow, we can go to the bar together later if we want to catch up. You contacted me about your friend uhm… Kim Taehyung and his hybrid friend y/n?” Max looked down at a file in his hand to read your names before looking up at the three of you still crammed in the doorway.
“I’m Taehyung” Taehyung responded. He stepped forward to shake Max’s hand, his other hand gently pulling yours. “Nice to meet you”
“Likewise, and I take it you are miss y/n?” Max asked, letting go of Taehyung’s hand and offering it to you to shake.
“Yes, I’m she.” You answered. You pushed down your hood, revealing your ears before shaking Max’s hand.
“And you are…?”
“Min Yoongi, I’m just another friend being the driver.” Max also shook Yoongi’s hand.
“Well then, nice to meet you all. Ah~ Taehyung and y/n please sit in front of my desk and you two can do what you please.” You took the seat directly in front of Max’s desk and Taehyung settled beside you. This was your life, you were going to take part in it front and center “Alright. Full name?”
“I only know y/n. I don’t have a last name as far as I know”
“Legal owner’s?” You gave him the name “Age?”
“I don’t know”
“Ok, I have your file here. Y/n, female, age unknown, mixed keeshond hybrid. Owned by ---- last seen by the owner roughly 12 years ago. Several reported stray sightings since them, but no confirmed sightings or captures. Reported to have been seen with a dog and a cat hybrid. The cat hybrid we guess from the description is another stray named Lil, who is also a runaway. Would you like to confirm that this cat is Lil or would you like to keep her uninvolved?”
“I won’t drag Lil into my problems”
“Ok” Max nodded. He could certainly tell that it was in fact Lil from your expression, and he knew you were protecting her. “So according to what Namjoon said, when he first met you, not knowing you were a hybrid you were severely underfed, and he suspects you have some emotional trauma that came from being a stray” you nodded “and your goal in this meeting is to somehow transfer ownership to someone other than your owner” You nodded again “Ok y/n, can you tell me why you ran away.”
“No reason in particular. I just had a gut feeling that he was bad” Max sighed.
“Well I’m glad nothing happened. This guys actually got a bit of a track record with us. He’s bad news. You’re lucky you left. He’s had several hybrids since you. We were only able to save a few because he’s quite wealthy and has a lot of power.”
“What happened to the one you couldn’t save?” Taehyung asked
“Wait” you cut Max off. “Can I step out. It’s enough for me to know he’s bad news. I kind of don’t want to know what might have happened to me if I’d stayed.”
“Of course.” You stood up and walked out of Max’s office, sinking down onto the bench outside. Thankfully the doors were near soundproof to give people privacy, especially when keen-eared hybrids wandered about all over the place. You leaned your head against the wall and rested your brain. A door someway down the hall opened. A grandmother gently pushed a toddler outside. She caught sight of you and called out.
“Oh hello there, I’m so sorry, but would you mind watching my girl for a few minutes?”
“Sure” you smiled. You held your hands out to the little girl. “Hi there, you want to come sit with me on the bench or a bit?” You cooed when the kid waddled over. She awkwardly climbed onto the bench beside you before plopping down. She was really cute. She had pink chubby cheeks, beautiful round eyes and small pudgy hands. The grandmother then turned around, shutting the door. You looked at the kid curiously. You’d noticed that she smelled like a hybrid. On closer inspection you found small lop eared bunny ears hidden in her soft hair. The two of you just sat there relaxedly, waiting for your people to come back. The grandmother opened the door again a few minutes later and called the girl back in. Eventually Max’s door opened and everyone stepped out.
“Ok guys, it was great to meet you. I’ll try to figure something out. In the meantime Joon told me you guys have booked a hotel, so I hope you enjoy your stay. Y/n tell me if you think of anything that might be important.” Max rattled off, and you shook your head to tell him, no you did not have anything to tell him at the moment. “See you soon. Also since you guys are technically not legal, try to keep a low profile. Don’t draw attention to yourselves. Especially y/n.”
You all agreed with a chorus of “ok”s. Then you made your way toward the exit. The boys were all oddly tense. You guessed it was from hearing about your owner. Taehyung looked extremely worried and sad. Namjoon looked disgusted, maybe slightly sick and Yoongi looked flat out infuriated.
Namjoon and Taehyung remained silent but Yoongi sighed. “Y/n if you ever so much as catch sight of that maniac, point him out to me. I’ll find some wet concrete and make a sculptural image of his face in it. Impressionist style”
previous next coming soon… hopefully
small(ish?) but growing tag list
@mayla548 @mrcleanheichou @purelyecstacy@dearnevlander @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @alngelia @d-noona @hannahdinse8 @3amthoughtsvented@yoursoontobestepmom @tinyoonsblog @lazydennisworld @sweet-weapon-077 @yuuji1core @childfmoonn
55 notes · View notes
Come Away With Me | KNJ, JHS
pairings: Namjoon x Hobi x Reader
rating: 18+ / Mature / Explicit
word count: 14,329 | read on ao3
synopsis: Even when Hobi tries to turn things around with a delightful plan for a hike, both he and Namjoon learn that when life gets to be too much, it’s best to just get lost in the wilderness and let nature take over.
genre: Songfic for Come Away With Me by Norah Jones
themes: Namjooning, but with a twist. Comfort, escape, rescue, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, kind of a slow burn
content warnings: Drug use (weed), threesome / group sex, oral sex (m/f, f/m), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, biting, fingering, breast play, nipple play
author’s note: Written for @skyys-universe‘s request (sorry I’m so late!)! Always so inspired by your song choices for these songfics. Also pulled inspiration from the concept of Hobi’s importance and influence as the unspoken leader, beautifully detailed here by @submissive-bangtan (incidentally, a post to which Rie also drew my attention!). Hoping this is a fun little forest you can escape to when you need a bit of quiet and peace of mind.
permanent taglist: @purpleheartsfortae @btseditsworld @greezenini @missbickerbocker @dearbambideer @helenazbmrskai @morti13 @skyys-universe @somewhereofftheglobe
“This isn’t the direction we wanna go in.”
Namjoon’s voice is as frigid as his stare. But as he speaks, a fiery sample of his voice plays in his mind. A snippet of a conversation with manager Sejin that ends with, “I dunno, I just don’t like the way he talks.”
But this director has drawn ire before. There’s nothing that a charming dinner with his friends in upper management can’t fix. That’s why his scoffed, “Do whatever you want,” flows just as coolly, and effortlessly into, “Call me whenever you finally come around.”
Nostrils flaring is never a good sign of Namjoon’s. The accompanying glare at the back of the director’s head makes Hobi step a little more into Namjoon’s direct line of sight. Just in case.
“Can he just leave like that?” Jin asks casually, arms folded, and eyebrows scooping just slightly down. He turns to the rest of the group. “Can people just— Can we just leave like that?”
“We’ve lost three days already,” Jungkook mumbles, his gaze following Namjoon’s.
“Not exactly terrible,” Taehyung chases, exchanging looks with Jin.
The crew startles and murmurs when the set doors slam shut.
Jimin’s stride over to Taehyung calls Hobi’s attention back to the group, and as Jimin rests his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder, Hobi raises his arms to bring the circle tighter.
As he talks, Hobi’s eyes are sure to meet each of the five pairs staring back at him. “I know it’s been grueling, but now isn’t the time to switch off. There’s always a moment like this, right in the middle of production, that threatens the momentum. We don’t hide it, and we don’t fight it. We stay calm. Conserve our energy for our response. We adapt.”
His gaze falls on Namjoon, still silent, still fuming, and still staring at the set doors.
Hobi reaches his hand out for Namjoon’s shoulder. It takes five pats to get Namjoon to turn and meet his eyes.
“We only need each other,” Hobi says. “Right?”
Namjoon’s flaring nostrils let out a long huff. “Right.”
Hobi keeps his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, careful not to perforate the moment. But they all turn to the anxious crew watching with concern, and the closed set doors behind them.
“Dude seemed like an asshole anyway,” Jimin grumbles, his gaze steely.
Namjoon hates when he loses himself, but the real concern is that he keeps finding himself. He finds himself in manager Sejin’s office. And then on camera, with translators in his ear. And then in the town car home. Voices keep slurring and bodies keep blurring around him. Everything is a discomposed mess. When he opens his eyes to find Hobi hunched in front of him, it’s no wonder that he’s feeling irate, even with Hobi’s hand in its usual, comforting place on his shoulder.
“Joon. You hear me?”
Namjoon rolls from his side onto his back. The sharp corner of his journal stabs his pained temple. It turns out that sleep made no difference, as this particularly tenacious headache wrings out the last of whatever he had left of it, his tortured consciousness made only worse by the sight of ink not on the still-blank journal pages but all over the white duvet.
Namjoon’s thin eyes search for the pen, but Hobi gestures to the capped culprit on the nightstand.
“You had it in your fist when I came in to wake you,” Hobi tells him.
He straightens a little, relief matching that of a newborn’s parent on the morning of the second day.
“You didn’t even snore,” Hobi goes on. He places the back of his hand just in front of Namjoon’s nostrils. “Had to check if you were breathing.”
“Slept like shit,” Namjoon mumbles, squeezing his eyes tight with another of his brain’s throbs.
Hobi eyes the duvet. “Clearly.” And then his eyes find Namjoon’s again. “But even so. Gotta get up.”
Namjoon blinks. “What time is it?”
“Just after 6.”
A cough rattles through Namjoon’s cluttered throat. If only he could get out all the words he’s been wanting to say.
Instead, he rolls over onto his other side. “Wake me when it’s time to eat.”
“It is,” Hobi says. “Or, well, the food’s ready, at least.”
Namjoon rolls onto his back and finally takes a good look at Hobi. He’s worn that bucket hat, that gray shirt, and those loose-fitting cargo pants to dance practice before.
“Are we going into work?” Namjoon asks hopefully, scooting up against his headboard, ready to spring into action. “Did they change their mind about the mandatory vacation?”
Hobi scoffs. “Only you would be excited about that.” His lips tighten, corners of his mouth curving around his teeth. “Well, only you and Yoongi would be excited about that.”
“Yoongi-hyung.” Namjoon sighs. “I bet he composed a whole album’s worth of demos last night.” He spreads his fingers out across the bed sheets as white as his pages. “I just couldn’t think.”
“Maybe now’s not the time for thinking,” Hobi muses, taking Namjoon’s hand and standing. He leans back and tugs his arm, Namjoon feeling a pop in his shoulder socket and wincing. “Time for a hike. Just the two of us. Let’s re-center.”
“I just—” The words pile up in Namjoon’s throat again. “I don’t— There’s so much to—”
Hobi tugs at his arm again. “C’mon, Joon,” he says, insistently, but calmly. “Come away with me.”
Namjoon is sure that re-centering should have involved the less craggy, less steep, less rock and root-ridden path.
But Hobi’s bright singing helps keep Namjoon’s spiraling thoughts at bay.
“And I want to walk with you on a cloudy day, in fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high, so won’t you try to come…”
Despite biting his lips tightly to cover up how heavily he’s breathing, Namjoon grows a big, fond smile.
Hobi doesn’t care who hears him. “Almost there!” Hobi encourages between unabashed huffs and puffs. “I can see the cliff just ahead!”
Namjoon is glad that it’s Hobi’s shift with the backpack. Though he exhales heavily, the shedded weight makes it just a little easier to grab for the next metal stake that marks the trail. He can barely think as he moves from that one to the next. And then the next. And then the next.
He looks up at the trees, a canopy of castleton green save for spots where the sun illuminates them to shamrock. Though the hike is challenging each and every one of his muscles down to the fiber, he wonders if this is what Hobi meant by re-centering. All Namjoon really needs to do is focus on getting from stake to stake.
By some miracle, they reach the peak of the trail, rewarded with a sunny, lush view of the entire forest. The two plant their feet solidly on the wide, flat rock, peering into the depths.
“Beautiful,” Namjoon breathes.
Hobi excitedly swivels to him, droplets of sweat bouncing off of the green poncho that he slipped on part way through the hike. “See?” he asks. “Worth it, right?”
Namjoon grins at Hobi’s poncho fluttering in the breeze. “Completely.” And then he looks back out at the landscape surrounding them. “This was such a good idea. Look at this view. And this perfect weather.”
Hobi eyes Namjoon suspiciously. “Are you cold?”
“Just a little,” Namjoon admits.
Hobi chuckles and shakes his head.
“Let’s call Jin-hyung!” Namjoon suggests, as he pulls out his phone, and Hobi sits down and slides his arms through the straps of his backpack.
Colorful plastic containers of food brighten up the gray slate, and a friendly ringtone cuts through the air like birdsong.
As Jin’s sleepy face pops up on Namjoon’s phone, Namjoon crouches and hovers next to Hobi.
“Hyung!” Namjoon cheers, as Hobi laughs into the camera.
“Hey,” Jin mumbles.
“Check this out!” Namjoon cheers excitedly, switching the lens to capture the view.
He and Hobi giggle as Jin murmurs, eyes opening at the change in brightness and saturation. “Ohhh. Wow.” He blinks a couple of times. “Wait. What time is it? Where are you?”
“Went on a hike,” Namjoon explains.
“Took him here to the gorge we visited that one time,” Hobi adds. “Thought we’d do something outside today. Accidentally took the harder path, but this was our prize.”
“Ah.” Jin blinks a couple of times. “Are there lots of people on the trail today?”
Namjoon and Hobi exchange glances. They had been so focused on the hike that they hadn’t noticed whether or not there were other people around. It’s strange for them, upon reflection, to be in a space where nobody is asking them questions, or giving them orders, or even politely maneuvering around them in some way, whether to protect them, or simply because they’re sharing space in the hustle and bustle.
“No, actually,” Hobi realizes.
“We’re the only ones here,” Namjoon echoes.
Jin’s brow furrows. “You’re out there by yourselves? No one from the team is with you?” He looks concerned. “Did you at least pack stuff? Something useful?”
“We brought breakfast,” Namjoon offers, aiming the phone down to one container of neatly rolled gimbap, and another container of sloppier slices.
Jin hums, charmed at knowing whose tray is whose. “Well, be careful. And just make sure to get back before noon, OK? It always gets really hot up there midday.”
“Will do,” Namjoon replies, as Hobi gives Jin a playful salute. “Call you when we’re heading home.”
“OK,” Jin says. “Really, though. Please be careful.”
“We will!” Namjoon repeats.
“Namjoon-ah,” Jin stresses, with an adamant look.
Before Namjoon can get too worked up, Hobi places his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, and provides a comforting, “We will.”
Jin nods before hanging up.
Namjoon looks down dejectedly. He’d brighten a little, if not for Hobi’s contemplative face staring at their containers of food.
“What is it?” Namjoon asks.
“We forgot silverware,” Hobi says.
Namjoon’s chin juts out. His lips form a straight, solemn line. His eyes look tense but glassy.
Luckily, something about the trees has calmed him, so much so that when Hobi tugs on his arm this time, he immediately follows, placing his phone in his back pocket and focusing on the food in front of them.
“No harm, though,” Hobi continues. He reaches for a slice of Namjoon’s gimbap. Sure, the edges are ragged, the seaweed roll is flat and loose, and the contents bulge out, threatening to spill. But in Hobi’s fingers, the piece looks pristine. Hobi smiles at Namjoon, showing him, almost toasting him, before downing the bite in one go.
Namjoon half-smiles and does the same, starting with a piece of fruit.
They eat the bulk of their meal in silence made comfortable not just by the warblers and owls occasionally dotting the sky, or the branches pleasantly swaying in the breeze, or the hot sun on their faces balanced by the cool rock against their bodies. It’s a silence made comfortable by a unique closeness. A closeness necessitated by experience. A closeness serendipitous in age. A closeness of innate understanding.
When the last of the food is gone, Hobi takes great care in cleaning up. Hobi always takes great care in cleaning up. But Namjoon notices today’s particular attentiveness and, due to that closeness of innate understanding, knows that Hobi doesn’t want to disturb the environment.
This isn’t home. Here, they are guests. Here, things are different.
Hobi glances sideways, feeling Namjoon’s eyes on him.
“Something on your mind?” Hobi asks.
Namjoon runs his tongue along his top teeth as he thinks. “You ever wonder what it would be like if we weren’t… well… us?”
Hobi laughs. “No.”
“Well, I mean… I don’t know what else I’d be,” Hobi answers. He snaps the last lid of the last container into place with such conclusiveness.
Legs stretched out in front of him, body propped up by the strong arms leaning behind him, Namjoon can’t help but smile. He knows that Hobi couldn’t be anything else, not for lack of talent or trying, but because he is always true to himself.
Hobi doesn’t know what prompts the smile, but he’s just glad that Namjoon is smiling.
“Do you?” Hobi asks. “Wonder, I mean?”
“All the time,” Namjoon replies.
Hobi realizes that he shouldn’t be surprised. Namjoon talks so deeply about all of his hobbies and interests, and he’s so intelligent that he could pick up millions more.
“What do you think you’d be?” Hobi asks, zipping up the backpack and angling a little to face Namjoon.
“Lots of things,” Namjoon replies. “Writer. Artist. Scientist. Teacher. Entrepreneur.”
His eyes flick over to Hobi, who is nodding along.
“At the very least,” Namjoon continues, “I sometimes wonder what it would be like…”
Namjoon knows there’s no pressure to get the wording exactly right, especially if there is no such thing as exactly right wording. But he still tries so hard.
“I wonder… what it would be like… to not be the leader.”
At this, Hobi’s eyes shoot up. “Really?”
Hobi’s heart sinks into his stomach. He’d regret the feeling and the decision to go on the hike, but in some way, he’s glad. He imagines Namjoon’s heart shrugging off a backpack full of worry and giving it to Hobi’s heart to carry.
Hobi reaches out. “Well, what is it like?” They’ve never talked about this before. Not really. So he straightens up to show Namjoon that he can take it.
There’s a familiarity in Namjoon’s curious eyes. Shouldn’t Hobi know?
“You know,” Namjoon affirms, eyebrows crinkling just a little.
“How could I know?” Hobi asks, tilting his head. “You’re the one doing everything.”
Namjoon shakes his head quickly, eyes falling to the ground. A warmth spreads across Hobi’s chest. Not a comforting one. A warning one.
“Did I say something wrong?” Hobi tries.
Namjoon can’t believe he has to say it out loud. “You’re our real leader.” Namjoon’s features are sharper than the others, so it pains Hobi to see the blurring effect of sadness creeping on the border of Namjoon’s apologetic smirk. “I might talk more. But people listen to you.” His eyes flash up to Hobi’s for a moment. “I listen to you.” The words are coming a little easier now. “And I hear you. It helps. Helps all of us. Helps me.”
The heat in Hobi’s chest flushes outward with the breeze moving forward from their backs. He looks down at his poncho, the fabric rustling pleasantly. The only reason Namjoon’s even there is because Hobi told him to go.
“We play our roles,” Hobi says firmly. “We’re there for each other. Pick up the slack when needed.”
“Last night, I couldn’t even begin to write my song,” Namjoon points out.
“Then I will write you a song,” Hobi says, smiling. “But I’m no Kim Namjoon.”
“Two Kim Namjoons would be a disaster,” Namjoon mumbles.
Hobi finds that spot on Namjoon’s shoulder. He means to give him a pat, but Namjoon presses his hand on Hobi’s knuckles. Soft. A little heavy. Wanting to keep him there.
“You’re focusing on the feelings you left with yesterday,” Hobi tells him seriously. “Focus on the breeze around us instead. Let those feelings sail.”
Namjoon closes his eyes and tries to follow.
When Namjoon’s eyes open again, he sees Hobi watching him with concern. “Yeah?”
Namjoon grins a little. “Yeah.”
Hobi beams, full and splendorous. “Think of the spotlight,” he tells him, enough warmth emanating from his visage that Namjoon almost feels like one is shining on him now. “Think of the thrills.” Hobi looks around for more paint to craft his picture. His head snaps back to Namjoon with a somewhat naughty grin. “Think of the edge of the stage, like the edge of that cliff. The fall.”
Namjoon tilts his head, still unsure if he should share. If he’s giving up the helm for a moment, it’d be best to make sure to know where the lifeboats are.
“The thrills are…”
Namjoon just smiles.
Hobi pats Namjoon’s shoulder twice before pulling away. “Addictive to have that spotlight on you, right?”
A chuckle precedes Namjoon’s sheepish, “Actually, I appreciate it because I get to be the one to introduce you.”
Hobi’s heart softens, but not in a way that makes the backpack heavier for it to carry. He puffs his chest out even more, showing that his heart can handle the weight. That Namjoon still has strength to share that makes him so. “Our selfless leader. Always the first into battle.”
Namjoon allows himself one grin. It doesn’t last long. “But it’s the other stuff that freaks me out a little.” He fiddles with his shoelaces. “I didn’t feel good yesterday.”
“You were standing up for us,” Hobi gently reaffirms. “You were right.”
“I know,” Namjoon says quickly. Not vaunting. Acknowledging. Matter-of-fact. Namjoon always knows best. “But it’s different now.”
Hobi leans forward, lips in a pout. These conversations are rare, not just because Namjoon usually chooses a tight smirk over a tempered explanation, absorbing hits rather than dispersing it across seven. They’re rare because it’s rare for mere mortals to take wing, especially this high. It’s strange to see Namjoon the poet attempting to describe something and struggling. Even something as rare as this.
Uneasiness settles into the marrow in Hobi’s bones. He usually counts on those pockets of free space to help him fly. He’s not used to needing to protect them from threat.
But the quick way Namjoon’s eyes are zigzagging across the landscape tells him not to worry. That the words are coming to save them.
“It’s like this forest,” Namjoon explains. He raises his arms out to hold it in front of him. If he had begun this conversation during the meal, Hobi would have shared that this looks like a god’s gentle embrace. Now, knowing how Namjoon has been feeling, Hobi realizes that his fingers are touching nothing. Grasping at straws as if gasping for air.
“Everything was always here, but we’re just now seeing it all at once for the first time,” Namjoon replies. His wiggling fingers still, and his arms fall back down to his sides, retreating to the grooves in the rock that holds them up. “I’m used to thinking about seven trees. Not 70 million.”
Hobi hums at the number. But past that, he doesn’t really have anything to say. He doubts there’s anything to say, anyway.
Namjoon turns. Chin out. Solemn.
Hobi meets him with a smile, and a gentle, “Just remember that you’re not alone. We’re here.” He relaxes his shoulders, showing Namjoon how. “I’m here.”
It’s more than enough. And it makes sense that it’s coming from Hobi.
Namjoon nods and takes a deep breath. Hobi had planned for them to stop and smell the roses, but instead, Namjoon gets a strong whiff of camellia. And a little of Hobi’s sweat.
Just like that, Namjoon’s tank is full again.
Hobi revels in Namjoon’s eased expression. “Should we go check out the waterfalls? It’s on the way down.”
“We should go,” Namjoon replies, standing, the salt of Hobi’s sweat lingering in his breath as he exhales. He dusts his hands of dirt and begins to reach down to take the backpack. “Jin-hyung wasn’t wrong about the heat.”
“See?” Hobi asks, smiling as he jumps to his feet. “You do know best.”
Suddenly, Namjoon twitches a little before looking into the sky. Hobi’s mouth crumbles, and his busy eyes jump from point to point on Namjoon’s face and body to identify the cause.
“Debatable,” Namjoon murmurs.
He looks back at Hobi with considerable concern.
“I think I felt some rain just now, and you’re the one who thought to bring a poncho.”
The two figures you’ve stumbled upon somehow hear your voice cutting through the blast of thunder. You’re not sure if the one who yelps in fear is reacting to it, or to you.
“C’mon! Before it floods!” you repeat.
The two figures double-back to safer ground, where your tough jeep still has a solid grip on the increasingly slippery terrain.
They jump in the back seat, and at the sight of a soaking wet bucket hat, you know you’ve found the two people that you’ve been getting nonstop messages about for the past few hours.
“You’re Namjoon and Hobi?” you ask anyway, turning to the bucket hat.
“Yes!” the other one says, breathless. He gestures to himself. “Namjoon.” He points to said bucket hat. “Hobi.”
“No!” Namjoon says. He’s nearly shouting. The storm is so, so loud.
“Alright,” you say, sighing with relief. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
You throw the car in reverse and head back to your cabin, feeling less like a park ranger on a rescue and more like the captain of a ship.
“This is something else,” you observe, shaking your head almost as fast as your windshield wipers are going. “Glad I found you before the worst of it.”
“This isn’t the worst??” Hobi exclaims, teeth chattering.
You’re caught off guard at what meets you in your rearview mirror. Namjoon’s eyes, framed by his soaking wet hair. Strange how fiery those eyes are when the rest of him is drenched, and the only light you have is the measly, sick yellow of your headlights losing against the rain.
Swallowing doesn’t help you.
“Uh, there are some blankets in the back,” comes out a little raspy, but it propels Namjoon’s neck to turn and reach back into the trunk.
He takes care of Hobi first, carefully tucking the mylar between his body and the cushions of the back seat before drawing the other blanket around his own shoulders.
“How do you know our names?” Namjoon asks suspiciously.
It serves as a good reminder. “Was afraid I’d get them wrong, to be honest,” you reply, as you reach for the spiraling cord of your walkie. Namjoon’s fiery eyes leave a burn on your wrist as you wind it through the cord, ensuring that if you drop the walkie, it won’t fall far. The radio crackles. “10-24,” you call in, “repeat, 10-24. Found ‘em by the ridge. Heading back to my quarters now to wait out the storm.”
Namjoon seems to settle once the main office radios back with a barely understandable, crackle-chunked, “Thanks, ranger. Please note that weather reports… morning at the earliest… check for enough supplies and resources for… bandmate, Jin, insufferable…”
Hobi perks up at the name, exchanging eager glances with Namjoon. You’re glad to have his eyes off of you for a second.
After a few minutes of silence, you radio back. “You broke up there a little. Can you repeat?”
“Repeat. Storm won’t break till morning.”
The voice comes in a little clearer, but then completely drops out in spots. You all hang on tensely until the next chunk of words.
“I will radio their team.”
Your windshield wipers thud-thud-thud at their highest speeds. Your wheels are skimming the water.
“Be careful out there.”
You unwind the cord and set the walkie back on the dash before glancing in the rearview mirror. Namjoon is burning a hole into the glass, and Hobi is staring at him, jaw slightly open.
“You piece that together?” you ask.
Namjoon nods, as Hobi murmurs, “What the hell did Jin do?”
When you see the yellow posts demarking the start of your cabin’s driveway, you finally release the breath you’d been holding in your chest.
When you slow to a stop, you grab the walkie directly. There’s nothing to jostle it out of your hand.
“This is Ranger 8. 10-23. We’re at the cabin. All good.”
Namjoon finds your voice pleasant. Like an evening radio talk show host. You could be queueing up love songs.
Hobi’s watching the walkie cord dangle freely. Your hands seem relaxed. And unnaturally soft, especially given your role, and the situation.
“10-4. Glad you’re safe and sound.”
Once they hear those words, Namjoon and Hobi finally believe it. And they look less and less concerned as you start to do things they’re more familiar with. Pull up the hand brake. Turn the engine off. Unbuckle your seatbelt. Slide your key ring onto your middle finger, with your forefinger and thumb firmly grasping the key you need to get inside.
You take your flashlight from your passenger seat with your free hand and turn around to face them.
“Not to worry,” you tell their tight, raised shoulders. “We’ve got running water. Generators, and back-up generators, and back-up back-up generators. Plenty of food. Plenty of blankets.” You smile gently. “I’ve even got a fireplace.”
Hobi’s shoulders rest. He grins. “Cool.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I mean, thank you,” he says impatiently, “but is there really no way we can get back to the city today?”
“Joon,” Hobi says, placing his hand on a particular spot on Namjoon’s still-raised shoulder.
“It’s just that— Well, we aren’t really—”
Namjoon balls his hands into fists. He’s shaking.
“Do you know who we are??”
The raised, worried eyebrows clinch it. There’s no sense of entitlement here. Namjoon wants to know. Do you happen to know who they are? Because, apparently, you should. And seems to be more of a threat if you do.
Nervous, you shake your head a little. “Sorry. All I know is ‘Namjoon’, ‘Hobi’, ‘bucket hat’, and ‘rescue’,” you admit.
Luckily, given the way Namjoon sighs and leans back in his seat, it’s the right thing to say.
“Thank you,” Namjoon repeats, “for finding us. I’m sorry. I just…”
He exchanges a tense look with Hobi, who just keeps nodding encouragingly.
“Just a little wound up,” Namjoon explains.
“Given the circumstances, I think that’s just fine,” you say as quietly and soothingly as you can without being drowned out by the maddening storm. “Try to forget for now.” You grin. “For now, we’re just three people coming home in the middle of a thunderstorm. Right?”
Namjoon smiles uneasily, lips curved up, but the corners of his mouth still downturned.
Hobi scoffs. And then he places his finger in the left corner of Namjoon’s lips. He pushes slightly, forcing it up.
Namjoon laughs softly.
After flashing them a charmed grin, you turn to your window and nod over to the barely visible porch light. The fact that the floodlight looks more like a candle from just a few feet away tells you how disastrous the situation could have been.
You’d been driving and searching for hours. How long might they have been trudging along? “Three steps up the porch,” you explain, turning back to them. “Think you boys can handle it?”
Namjoon and Hobi wiggle their hips to the edge of the seat, steeling themselves.
You smile. “Three steps, and then you’ll be warm, dry, and fed.”
They exchange half-hearted smiles, and they follow you when you jump out of the car.
Eighteen mean and hurried stomps later, you’re all finally inside.
“I couldn’t even hear myself think out there,” Namjoon sighs, shifting his weight on his weary legs.
You smirk as you watch them wince as they take off their shoes and set them by the door.
“Guys, really, cut it with the niceties,” you say, wanting to laugh. “Come into the living room and rest.”
Namjoon and Hobi tentatively follow you into what looks less like official spartan headquarters for a national park, and more like a summer vacation home. Soft, bright pine. A wooden table with mismatched wooden chairs surrounding it. In the living room, piles of pillows and cozy blankets draped over three huge couches, all perpendicular to each other, and sitting atop criss-crossing rugs. They vary in size and design, but they all seem to have the same, plush feel.
Hobi joins you in the space first, eyes crawling along those rugs. Braids. Diamonds. Damask. His feet follow the patterns until his knees bump the arm of one of the couches. “Soft,” he says, low and happy.
You smirk at him, surprisingly transfixed by just how happy. He laughs a little and takes his bucket hat off. How it stayed on, you’re not sure, but you’re glad you can see more of his kind, warm face.
Your eyes linger together. Just for a moment.
Namjoon ventures in next, walking toward you, crouched at the hearth. He notices the books and candles on the mantel. Bouquets of dried flowers, muted purples and faint pinks and delicate baby’s breath, tied with ribbon and hanging upside down on a walnut grid.
He clears his throat. “Uh, can we help—”
The first flame spreads easily over the logs you’ve quickly and expertly arranged. It grows, haloing you in orange, strands of your surprisingly dry and long hair outlined in a yellow glow. It dawns on him. You were wearing a hat, covering a bun. You’ve shaken it out now.
And you shake out the strain in your muscles as you stand and sigh.
After you all exchange warm looks, you smile and say, “Why don’t you two get cleaned up? I’ll do the same and fix us something to eat. Yeah?”
Namjoon turns back to Hobi, who nods eagerly and says, “Yeah, thanks so much.”
“The back office is down that hall and to the right,” you gesture. “Walk through, and you’ll find the en suite bathroom. There’s a box of brand new sweatshirts and sweatpants on top of the lockers. And towels. All the folded ones are clean. Just hang the ones you use.” What else might they need? “You should find the essentials in the shower stall, but if you happen to want something more luxurious, I’ve got stuff upstairs. Passionfruit.”
Hobi looks like he’s going to say something, but Namjoon cuts him off with, “That works just fine. Thanks.”
You laugh. “Good. I was running out.”
“Go first,” Hobi instructs, tossing Namjoon a large, fluffy, cedar-colored towel at the top of the folded stack.
Namjoon fails to catch it. He bends down and picks it up by the corner, quickly bunching the rest of the towel into his hands. “You sure?” he asks.
Hobi nods. He stands resolutely at the lockers, taking a towel shaded in dark pine for himself and neatly setting the rest of the folded towels back on top. He drapes it over his left shoulder before reaching for the cardboard box next, immediately busying himself with freeing the extra large, beige-colored, JIRISAN PARK RANGERS-labeled sweats from their clear, plastic sleeves. Instead of tearing at the perforation, Hobi claws finger-sized holes in the middle of the bag. His lips are folded into themselves.
“Everything OK?” Namjoon asks.
Hobi nods quickly. As if to keep things from spilling out of his mouth.
Namjoon reads the striations in the muscles at Hobi’s throat. Strained. But it’s the opposite problem. Hobi’s words flow too easily. They’re collecting at his tonsils. Building up pressure. Threatening to burst at any moment.
Rather than provoke things, Namjoon decides to wait and let Hobi take his time.
He stands in front of the glass shower stall, inspecting what he has to work with. Admittedly not much, seemingly meant for quick quick rinses after a long day in the wild. But there are glimmers, like little smiles. Tiny, charming twigs, flowers, and leaves gather in the dips of the pearl-and-gold, honeycombed stall floor. The nearby essentials you mentioned have cute touches, though. A bottle of light pink shampoo. A white bar of soap that smells like vanilla. Namjoon smirks to himself at how cottagecore this supposed ranger cabin really is, all the way down to the damp petals in the shower drain.
His white shirt has spent the last few hours clung tightly to his frame, so when Namjoon pulls the sopping fabric off of his body, it almost hurts. Like peeling off a second skin. Bones crack. Muscles flex. Tight fabric squeezes and then releases his nipples. Skin runs cold. And he winces and sucks in a breath at the strange coalescence of sensations.
At the sound of air rushing past Namjoon’s teeth, Hobi glances over. He watches as Namjoon slides his shorts off. Namjoon bends a little easier now that his abs are toned. As he bends, he wobbles less, now that his arms have bulk, his thighs have broadened from stems to trunks, and his ass has split into two firm boulders.
The top of the stall is just level with Namjoon’s eyes. There’s a loud slap of fabric against the glass. Wet clothes, and then the towel, land over the stall wall. Hoisted, swung, and hung.
Hobi clears his throat and feels warmth in his chest, the same warning that came to him on the cliff in the forest.
The shower turns on.
Hobi blinks and looks forward at the lockers, and then back down to the sweats he’s just freed.
Keeping his eyes low, he moves toward the sink.
“I’ll set these on the counter for you.”
The hinges squeak as the shower door shuts, and Hobi immediately hates that they’ve won his attention. When he looks up into the mirror above the sink, he catches a quick glimpse of Namjoon’s sculpted body covered in a gentle, ivory lather.
The heat in Hobi’s chest is growing. Spreading.
Like that creamy lather.
Graceful Hobi nearly trips over his feet as he walks back to the lockers, around the corner from the outer wall of the shower, a block of viridian tile where he can be hidden. Where he can hide. As much as it may surprise those who know him, Hobi prefers it there. If Namjoon is right about Hobi being the unspoken leader, it’s because Hobi has an appreciation for the unspoken.
Even now, fighting that warning in his chest, he chooses to say something quick and light. “I’ll just wait out—”
“What do you think?” Namjoon asks.
Lifted by the echo off the tile, his warm, deep voice rises to the ceiling, much like the steam floating up from his apparently scalding hot shower.
Confused, Hobi turns toward the stall. He sees the back of Namjoon’s head, covered in pink. It pulls a smirk onto his face. Draws the warning warmth tracing down his skin. Down his arms. Down his core. Down his legs.
His toes tingle.
Hobi shakes his head and reaches for something. Anything. The cardboard box again, pulling another extra large pack of sweats out for himself.
“The ranger,” Namjoon responds.
Hobi’s fingers settle into the holes they’ve already dug into the plastic. “The girl?”
He appreciates that despite being shrouded in darkness for most of the night, you come to mind easily. A welcome distraction. Welcome even if it didn’t help distract. A heart-shaped face. A heart-filled smile.
“What else would I be talking about?” Namjoon answers, with a chuckle. “Yeah, the ranger.”
Hobi stares at his gossamer reflection in the dark tile. Where is he?
After taking in a breath, Hobi sighs, “Our guardian angel.” He sets the cardboard box back on top of the lockers. “We were in deep shit today. Lucky she found us.”
After a couple of quick splashes, the shower door swings open. Namjoon steps out, right foot, then left, his entire body dripping water onto the tiny, thin bath mat. He looks over at Hobi, not really rushing, still kind of luxuriating in his warm, scrubbed clean skin.
Hobi’s eyes are at the ceiling, wide with something like wonder. He’s so expressive that sometimes, he feels like he might be mistaking it for fear.
“She’s pretty,” Namjoon says, eyes lingering on Hobi.
Hobi turns to him and sees Namjoon dead on, stance aimed at him like he’s Namjoon’s target.
Namjoon’s towel. Namjoon’s other things. Hoisted, swung, and hung.
Flustered, and blushing, Hobi’s neck goes limp, and his head falls forward, chin nearly touching his chest.
Namjoon smirks and pulls the towel from the wall. “So?” Namjoon asks again. “What do you think?”
“Yeah,” Hobi answers.
He remembers Namjoon wondering about what life would be like if his role were different. If he were different.
Hobi wonders what it would be like if he didn’t depend so literally on his body for expression.
He wonders if the warning heat in his chest is starting to turn his skin red. Maybe like the way the flame in the fireplace made your skin glow.
At Namjoon’s silence, Hobi looks back up for a verdict, and he feels relieved when he finds that Namjoon’s silence is humored. He watches Namjoon run the towel through his hair, ruffling back and forth. Body gently rippling in response. Namjoon drapes the middle of the towel around his open palm and runs it over his chest. His eyebrows raise a little.
“Are you really thinking about that right now?” Hobi scoffs.
“Aren’t you?” Namjoon teases.
“I mean, we are lucky that she found us,” Namjoon echoes. “But this whole adventure…” Namjoon’s smirk graduates into a smile. “Is it weird to say that I’m kind of enjoying being lost out here with you?”
Hobi laughs in spite of himself. “It’s maybe weird to hear you say it. But it sounds good, coming from you.”
They share a look. Not an uncomfortable one. But a new one. One that neither of them really know what to do with, other than giggle a little.
Namjoon walks over to the sink to grab his clothes. “OK. I’m done.”
Hobi frowns slightly, watching as Namjoon moves to trade places with him. “You forgot the shower.”
“Figured I’d keep it turned on.” Namjoon’s voice has just a tad of a huskiness when he says it. “Keep it warm for you.”
Hobi keeps his eyes on the ground as he trades places with Namjoon. Once Namjoon disappears behind the wall, Hobi quickly undresses and jumps into the shower stall. He lets the hot water soothe his back and calf muscles, the exhaustion hitting him all at once now that he feels like he’s in a safe place.
Adrenaline, Hobi remembers. That’s probably why I’m feeling—
He ignores whatever words were flowing too easily after that and reaches down for the soap, suds collecting quickly as he busies himself by rubbing the bar between his hands. It’s a little dry.
He wonders if you have any passionfruit lotion up stairs.
“There’s something about her,” Namjoon muses, voice muffled for a moment.
Hobi guesses that it’s because he’s slipping the sweatshirt on. He doesn’t look at the mirror to confirm. Instead, he turns around to face the shower head, running the bar and suds over his body, heated chest heavier with the added weight of shyness at the thought that both you and Namjoon are thinking about you at the same time.
He wonders if you’re also showering.
“She seems… sweet,” Namjoon continues, voice changing in orientation. Hobi guesses it’s because he’s pulling his pants on, and when he hears Namjoon hopping a little, Hobi smiles to himself. “And this cabin.”
“It’s nice,” Hobi agrees, biting his lip when he thinks of you by the fire. “Very welcoming.”
Namjoon nods. “Hmm.”
Are you welcoming, they wonder? You have been so far. How much more welcoming can you be?
Hobi runs his soap-covered hands over his arms. Is it the job? You’re not even a fan.
“Seems cool, too,” Namjoon breathes, barely audible above the sprinkling water on the tile.
“I was gonna say she was hot,” Hobi finds himself saying.
“Mmmm.” Namjoon’s voice is thick with lust. “Me too.”
Hobi hands travel down to his stomach and sides. What are you cooking? And when did he get so hungry? They move a little slower as they dip down to his hips. He finds himself biting his lip as he makes circles on his lower stomach, just under his belly button. So hungry.
Maybe you can be his meal.
The thought only exists for the length of time it takes lightning to strike the ground.
Muscle starts to pull taut. Chambers start to fill. Hobi grunts a little, barely able to hang onto the rush.
“Hours,” Namjoon says.
Hobi inhales sharply. Unexpectedly. He peeks over at the mirror to see Namjoon tying the drawstring at his waist. The sweatshirt hem is folded and tucked to his chest by his chin, showing his perfect stomach.
Hobi dares to run his hand just above the base of his cock, fingers circling, fist dragging down the length.
“Ours?” Hobi repeats slowly, turning away from the mirror. He leans his head back and lets the water fall onto his neck, close to his collarbones. He imagines each droplet is a kiss. From Namjoon. From you. More lightning strikes of thoughts that shouldn’t exist but somehow do.
“Yeah,” Namjoon says. An awed grunt. “Hours.”
Hobi slides his fist up to the base of his cock again, gripping tighter.
“You… really… think…?”
“She said she was searching for hours,” Namjoon says. “Didn’t she?”
Hobi’s eyes fall open. He was just starting to revel in the transformation of that warning warmth into whatever was supposed to be next. When he’s met with the sight of the unfamiliar shower, he hisses at himself.
He glances over at the mirror and sees Namjoon smoothing the sweatshirt over his body before scrunching up his sleeves to the elbow.
Hobi licks his lips before biting down on them. “Ah, yeah.” He unclenches his fist, and, after a moment, he remembers that this is just a shower. “Right.” He shakes his head at himself, moving down to set down the bar of soap, switching it for the bottle of shampoo. “She did.”
Namjoon looks up at the shift in the tone of Hobi’s tone. Why would someone taking a nice, hot shower sound so disappointed?
His eyes wander over to the mirror.
He sees Hobi rising and straightening, starting to reach for his hair. Namjoon watches as Hobi lathers a pink crown into his hair. He always forgets how carved Hobi’s form actually is. His frame gets lost in the baggy, bright clothes he wears. Now, stripped naked, in a little more shadow than light, Namjoon finds himself appreciating the soft curves of Hobi’s plentiful muscles. There’s a painter. Which painter is it? A famous one. His name is on the tip of his slowly moistening tongue, suddenly too big for his mouth, roving over his lips.
“Crazy, right?” Namjoon asks, voice soft as he watches Hobi pull his hands out of his hair.
Hobi stares at the faucet, vision blurry. His hand reaches out. His voice, still dejected. “Yeah. Crazy.”
He pulls the handle on the faucet all the way to the right.
The water runs ice cold.
It turns out that you are extremely welcoming.
Namjoon half-wanted to sit at the table with mismatched chairs for the aesthetic thrill alone, but he forgets about the table completely when he and Hobi walk back into the living room to find plates and plates of food on the giant ottoman in the center, and you sliding that slice of pear past your lips, the small knife in your fingers catching the fireplace flame in its blade.
Hobi’s eyes rove over your body, stretched out across the couch. Oversized cardigan. T-shirt tucked into cotton shorts that are a little too big for you. Drawstring tied tight against your waist. He thinks of Namjoon’s drawstring. His lips get itchy, and he chooses to soothe them with his tongue.
“What’s all this?” Namjoon asks, as he and Hobi look down at the ottoman.
You look up from the fire, his gentle voice guiding you away from your thoughts.
They stand angled in toward each other, looking down at you, the glow from the fire dancing across their soft and earnest expressions of appreciation.
“Oh,” you say, smiling and sitting up. “No big deal. I just didn’t know what you might want, so I kinda prepared some of everything that I had.”
Cheese, ham, nuts, and crackers. Grapes, dates, pears, and apples. Slices of bread, and slices of roast beef, both made the day before. Three heaping, steaming bowls of chicken noodle soup that you warmed. Three neat slices of chocolate cake.
“There’s more in the kitchen, if you want,” you say. “Cake’s store-bought.” Your eyes fall a little. “It’s just OK.”
Namjoon smiles and huddles up with a bowl of soup on the couch across from you. “Thank you so much,” he sighs. He lifts the spoon to his lips and groans with pleasure at the delicious taste warming him from within.
Hobi sits on the floor next to him, sighing as he stretches his legs in an impressively open V on the floor. He reaches out for some grapes and pops them into his mouth. They’re so crisp and juicy that when his teeth break the skin, you hear a crunch, and then a squelch, and then a long, satisfied moan.
They look at each other, smirking.
Namjoon turns back to you, and Hobi smiles fondly at his profile.
“Seriously, thank you,” Namjoon repeats. “For everything.”
“It’s my job.” You grin. “Just glad I could help.”
A rumble of thunder startles Hobi, and Namjoon turns to watch the shiver travel through Hobi’s body. “
Bellies fill quickly. And so does the room, with your enthralled conversation. You learn of how, by the time Hobi and Namjoon had reached the trail leading back down, the rain had picked up considerably. The miserably tenebrous clouds appeared out of nowhere, as if someone had just flipped a switch. By the time they got to the bottom of the trail, they had lost so much light.
“And my phone,” Namjoon explains. “I must’ve lost it on the way down.”
“Mine too,” Hobi replies. “Though that was later, when I guess we were heading to the ridge?”
“You don’t know how close you were to getting stranded,” you say cautiously. “One flash flood, and you might’ve been stuck at the top of that ridge for god knows how long.”
They exchange nervous glances.
“Sorry,” you say quickly. “I didn’t mean to— It’s just—” You take a breath. “Here. Take the edge off. If you want.”
You reach into your cardigan pocket and pull out your vape pen. You really should’ve given it to them before the meal.
Namjoon and Hobi exchange glances again, this time, of intrigue.
“Doubly lucky you found us, then,” Namjoon says, leaning forward for the pen and making you and Hobi chuckle.
“How did you find us?” Hobi asks.
You watch as Namjoon takes a long drag and releases it toward the ceiling.
“Your friend called headquarters,” you reply, watching . “I just kept doing bigger circles around the area.” You raise your eyebrows. “Good thing you let him know where you were.”
Namjoon nods. “We had just talked to him,” he replies. His eyes flicker over to Hobi. “They’ve been to that gorge before.”
“Your boss called him ‘insufferable’?” Hobi asks hopefully, wanting the tea.
You just smirk. “Important thing is that you’re both safe and sound,” you reply.
“True.” Hobi leans back on the sofa. He closes his eyes and sighs. Namjoon watches Hobi’s chest rise and fall.
When Hobi opens his eyes again, he’s surprised to see that Namjoon has slid down onto the floor next to him. Their sides touch. They lean into each other. Comfortable. Warm.
“What were you doing out there, anyway?” you ask.
“We ended up on the trail by accident, actually,” Namjoon admits. “When we realized, we just decided to keep going.”
“Dangerous,” you muse. And then you grin. “Though, most good things are, I suppose.”
Namjoon watches you with dark, hazy eyes as he hands Hobi the pen. Hobi hits it as Namjoon reaches for a grape. Chews. Swallows. Adam’s apple bobs up and down, Hobi paying it rapt attention.
You know because you’re giving the same kind of attention to both of them. It’s been so long since you’ve entertained anybody. Time spent with people just hasn’t been as valuable to you as watching the sun rise over the mountains. As Hobi lets his adoring smile grow, you consider how wondrous it is that you’re getting the same sunrise while on your couch, in the middle of the night.
When they both turn to you, you realize you’re leaning forward in your seat, elbows on your knees. Your shirt has fallen a little, exposing a little more of your chest. Hobi’s lips feel itchy again, so he drags his tongue across them. Namjoon lets out a tiny hum.
You slide down to the floor. They look bigger from this angle. You’ve been high for a while. Everything feels so fuzzy.
“I guess I meant what brought you to the park in the first place,” you clarify. You bring your knees to your chest. “Your backpack.” They follow your tentative gaze to the backpack by the door. “Based on your supplies, I take it you’re not avid hikers.”
Though a simple “no” or “yes” should suffice, neither of them seem to know how to answer this question.
“S-sorry,” you say. “I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s OK,” Hobi decides, nodding at Namjoon’s crinkled eyebrows. “We kind of just needed to get away from all the craziness.”
Namjoon nods slowly. “Recenter. Things have been crazy, planning for the tour.”
“Tour?” you ask.
Trying to erase the moment, Hobi quickly blinks at Namjoon, who seems to be a little tense. Disappointed in himself. Disappointed that he’s disappointed Hobi. Disappointed in a way that suggests that he disappoints people like this often.
But Hobi just shrugs. “Yeah. Tour.”
No harm, no foul. After all, they did almost die today.
He turns to you and grins again. “We’re, uh, in a band.”
“Ohhh,” you say. “Is that why you asked if I knew you?” You smile. “Are you famous?” you joke.
You’re glad they think you’re funny, but the guffaws start to make you feel self-conscious. How long has it been since you moved to the mountains?
“Apparently not,” Namjoon says, grinning at you.
You laugh nervously. “I mean, I’m not exactly a great barometer of these things…”
They smile fondly at you. You’re so cute.
“Wait, are you??” you demand.
Namjoon and Hobi look at each other a lot. Constantly checking in. Two halves of a brain.
“We have a few fans, yes,” Hobi replies, slowly turning back to you.
You close your eyes. You leave them closed for just a moment. You see tour buses, and diner stops, and packed venues, and crowds of people singing along to a song that Namjoon and Hobi are leading.
You stretch, imagining your body in the throng.
Namjoon’s head tilts as he watches your back arch. Hobi’s tongue darts out in front of a gulped breath.
Eyes opening, you look between them. “Needed a break from work?”
“From people,” Namjoon answers.
“Industry people,” Hobi clarifies. “Wanted to go to a place where they can't tempt us with their lies.”
You nod. “Double talk.” You sigh. “Second-guessing.”
“Yes,” Namjoon stresses. He wonders how you know. What life you led before this that taught you.
Hobi smiles and rubs the back of Namjoon’s head. Namjoon hasn’t noticed it as much, now that he’s full and comfortable. But his head still is throbbing. Still unconsciously working out the words that will go on the page. Need to go on the page. Soon.
Namjoon leans back into Hobi’s touch, letting out a low murmur at his massaging fingers. Hobi cuddles him from behind. His free arm slips around Namjoon’s waist. Namjoon takes it and hugs it to his chest, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth before letting his jaw hang open again and Hobi’s magic fingers.
“Was just saying how nice it was, being lost out here,” Namjoon says quietly.
Hobi looks at you. “Outside of work, we don’t get to do what we want to do very often.”
His fingers slow, still massaging, but with a different rhythm. A different meaning behind it. Whatever it is sends Namjon’s eyes rolling back into his head.
You bite your lip. “You burn bright, you burn out.”
Namjoon nods to Hobi’s rhythm. “We’ve got no stamina,” he observes.
“I don’t know about that,” you reflect.
Namjoon’s eyes open a little, and suddenly, he looks so eager.
“The storm. How far you made it in that rain, with no supplies. No assistance. I’m impressed you kept moving,” you admit. “The stamina that had to have taken…”
Your eyes search along the mountains that Hobi and Namjoon’s bent legs make. Soft cotton ridges and valleys. Knees at the peak.
What would it be like to watch the sun rise from there? Nestled in Namjoon’s lap? Hobi’s fingers stroking your hair? Other things?
“But I get it,” you say quickly, blinking.
“You do?” Namjoon asks.
“I mean, I basically left society,” you point out.
“Then, where do you go?” Namjoon asks. He furrows his brow. “Y’know. To escape.”
You grin and gesture for the pen, which Hobi hands back to you with a giggle.
As you take a drag, their eyes gaze at your mouth. Lips plump and puckering. Throat wolfing. Tongue licking the corner before releasing the vapor from a hit you weren’t meaning to be so strong.
Your mind drifts in the ensuing mist. Photoshoots. Security. Schedules. Suitcases. Hotel rooms. Groupies.
You bring your knees down and criss-cross your legs under you. “What’s it like?” you ask, leaning forward and finding their eyes again.
“Busy. Chaotic.” Namjoon shrugs a little, his shoulder digging into Hobi’s chest. You think you see Hobi bite his lip at the nudge, and his fingers flex a little harder into Namjoon’s scalp on their next pass. A low, long, contemplative grunt rumbles from Namjoon’s throat, and then he adds, “But kind of lonely.”
“Seems like you’re surrounded by people all the time,” you reply.
“It’s a different kind of loneliness,” Hobi agrees. His eyes scan Namjoon’s hairline. “We’re waited on, hand and foot.” He notices a stray thread. “But we have other kinds of needs.” Hobi’s lips form a circle, and a gentle breath lifts the thread into the air. Namjoon shivers at the feeling.
They’re both watching you in silence.
You don’t realize what you’re doing until your hand is in the middle of your chest. “Oh.” Instead of continuing the journey to wherever your hand was traveling to next, you grab at both panels of your cardigan and scrunch them together. Closed.
Namjoon’s eyes wander down your body, pupils following every possible trail that your hand might’ve taken. Imagining them there. Imagining the next.
Hobi stares into your eyes. Thinking. He glances down at Namjoon, still busy with his daydreams. He smiles a little, before looking back up at you. “Do you ever feel lonely?” he asks, licking his lips.
You’re starting to sweat.
“Yes…” Your eyes barely widen. A flinch. Hobi doesn’t miss it. “But, to be honest, I think I felt loneliest when I lived in the city.”
Namjoon’s eyes have stopped, glued to the button just under your fist. He rolls his lips in, then out, almost chewing them from the inside.
You tilt your head and smile a little. Just a small smile.
You let your fist unfurl, and your cardigan loosens. Mirroring it, Namjoon’s mouth hangs slightly open.
“All that talking,” you reflect, looking back at Hobi. “No one really saying anything.”
Hobi nods. And grins. Happy that you understand.
You run your hand from the bend at your knee, caressing your thigh, nails curved where your calf meets the underside, up to the hem of your shorts. You grab at your flesh a little, taking in a small breath.
Namjoon starts forward, but Hobi’s arm keeps him in place. Not forever. Just… not yet. He starts to run his hand over Namjoon’s chest in slow circles, paralleling the motions of his fingers in Namjoon’s hair.
Namjoon moans and stretches back. Hobi watches Namjoon’s hips twisting slowly.
The heat blooms in Hobi’s chest. But this time, it feels less like a warning, and more like a signal.
Namjoon’s heavy eyes struggle to latch onto Hobi’s.
“What about now?” Hobi asks, tense. He looks over at you, and Namjoon’s gaze follows. “Do you like what… we’re saying?”
You gulp that small breath down. Hobi likes the sound of your lungs rattling to catch the next one.
Hobi’s voice sounds a little more like Namjoon’s now. Like it’s coming from a deeper layer unknown to anyone else. Almost sinister. “Do you feel… lonely… with… us?”
Your hair tickles your neck when you shake your head no. Your hand twists the hem of your shorts into a circle. The waistband dips down a bit.
Hobi looks down at Namjoon and smirks at his hungry pout.
Hobi’s hand stops in the middle of Namjoon’s stomach, squeezing the muscle there fondly. And then, Hobi leans forward. He whispers something. You aren’t sure what, but the corner of his mouth wickedly snarls behind the shell of Namjoon’s ear.
And then Namjoon turns his hips, lying on the ground near your legs. You’re closer to each other than you’d realized. Pulled together by circumstance. By survival, and by duty. Pulled together by your fireside confessions.
Namjoon looks down at your hand, nestled between your calf and thigh. He props himself up with his elbow and, while holding your gaze, he lowers his head and kisses the space between your thumb and forefinger on that hand.
Your watch, riveted, as Namjoon kisses up your arm, grunting and moving slightly quicker as he gets closer to your body. Soon, he’s pressing your lips on the spot where your hand was resting on your chest. And then he’s pressing his tongue there, the fabric of your t-shirt moistening against your skin. His breath is so warm.
“Mmm,” you hum. Breathe in. Breathe out. How long has it been since someone has cured you of your loneliness?
Namjoon looks up at you with just his eyes. You feel him tug on your cardigan, the seam bulging on your shoulders. He smirks. “Think we need some help here.”
You feel Hobi brush past you, sitting behind you and resting his back on the couch you had abandoned. His legs surround you. And his hands reach around you, taking the undone collar of your cardigan and pulling it down off of your frame.
Namjoon and Hobi’s hands meet in the crooks of your elbows. They tickle each other playfully, chuckling with each other, and making you chuckle along. And then Namjoon slips his fingers under your sleeves. At the feel of skin on skin, you inhale sharply. It almost burns.
HIs fingers lightly travel down your forearms, helping you discard the cardigan altogether. There’s a rustle, and you see it crumple and fall to the side.
Namjoon, crouched in front of you, presses his lips onto your collarbones, just above the neck of your shirt. He sucks and kisses eagerly, a trail of spit dripping down to meet where he had planted his first kiss.
His hands grip your thighs at the hem of your shorts. You straighten out, around Namjoon’s knelt form. He sidles into you, and you angle slightly up, making room for him between your legs. As he caresses you with his lips, his hands land on your thighs, squeezing them before ambling down to your knees, and then up again, sliding into the cuffed legs of your baggy shorts. Everything is soft, from his touch, to your skin, to the fuzzy cotton grazing you both as he moves.
You lean back. Hobi’s shoulder is underneath you. His neck cushions your temple. His hands find your hips, and his wrists rest on your waistband, fingers undoing the knot that has shifted slightly left in your squirming. He revels in the scent of passionfruit.
You’re surrendering. You feel uneasy. You may hide. From people. In this cabin. But you never surrender.
“Up here. Tucked away. You needed this,” Hobi murmurs into your ear. “Just like we did. I can feel it. Your body… is so… tight…”
He clutches your waist with his fingers, and his thumbs dig into your back. Kneading into you. Undoing knots that were tied there over years and years.
“Find out how tight she really is,” Hobi tells Namjoon.
At the command, Namjoon’s hands slide all the way up your shorts. His right thumb stretches out, separating from the rest of his fingers. It rests on top of your underwear, tapping your flesh softly. “Good?” he asks you, his lips still touching the base of your neck.
When was the last time you were good?
You nod eagerly.
He continues massaging your collarbones and neck with his lips and tongue. He lets out a little grunt when he presses his thumb into the cotton of your panties, running up and down your clothed slit.
You whine, moving your hips in response to him, Hobi grunting when you move your ass back into him.
Hobi turns his head, tucking your forehead into him with his jaw. “Well?” he asks.
“She’s wet,” Namjoon mumbles, your syrup quickly drenching the fabric and coming for his thumb next.
Hobi chuckles. “Nice to know. But not what I asked.”
Namjoon looks up at him, and though you can’t see Hobi, you know they’re sharing a smirk.
Namjoon’s thumb circles your clit, and you let out a whimper. The pitch rises as he slides it under your panties. It thickens in volume as he burrows between your lips and slides toward your entrance. And it becomes a full, thrilled moan when he pushes it into your cunt.
“Shiiiit,” he hisses. He’s only a thumbnail deep.
He looks up at Hobi with wonder.
“Mmm,” Hobi purrs, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone. “That’s what I thought.”
Hobi runs his hands up your body, and you realize that your hips are moving so much freer now that he has loosened you there. You wonder what will happen when his hands reach your breasts, delighted to find that the answer is jolts of pleasure running like shockwaves through your body as he massages you, your nipples caught between those skillful fingers just in Namjoon’s hair.
“C’mon Namjoon,” Hobi says playfully. “Open her up. See what’s inside.”
Namjoon grunts as he grabs your ass and pulls you down. He yanks your shorts off of you, and then your ruined panties, nearly tossing them into the fire in his haste. When he lies on his stomach and buries his mouth in you, you feel like you’ve been thrown in as well.
“Ooohhh,” you whimper, sounding worried. “Hmmm, god—AH!”
You squeal when Namjoon clamps down around your clit, sucking harshly. There was nowhere for you to go. Met with something like that, a force of nature. You had to come. You had to bend. You shiver, each jostle sharp against your bones.
“Slow,” Hobi tells Namjoon. “Give her time.”
You look over to Hobi and wonder how your brain has taken human form and existed outside of your body without you knowing.
Namjoon pauses, holding your clit in his lips, and looking up at you. Your furrowed brow. Your crinkled nose. Your bottom lip white where you’re biting down so hard that you might chew through.
“But she looks so good like this,” Namjoon whines, voice muffled by your throbbing orb.
“Slow,” Hobi repeats, chuckling. “Trust me.”
Hobi lets your left breast go and places his index finger under your chin. He lifts it toward him and pulls you into a sweet, soft kiss. Your cheeks hollow with each stretch of your jaw, neck tensing as you taste more of Hobi, relaxing when he pulls away, and intensifying as you draw him in again. Moon pulling the tide.
Namjoon sighs and heeds his order. You start to feel more. Better. His tongue, swishing and circling. His lips forming the perfect seal. His tonsils flexing as he sucks with just the right amount of force. And then, deliciously, his finger. Fingers. Pressing into you. Helping you open up even more.
You need something to hold onto.
One hand slips onto the back of Namjoon’s neck, curved fingers raking up and down as Namjoon moves against you.
The other hand slips behind you, reaching for Hobi’s waistband. He wiggles his hips to help you slide inside, and then he scoops up to help you release him. You feel the pant legs fall away as you free him, and you start to pump him. Close-fisted. Lazy.
“Yessss,” Hobi hisses.
You and Namjoon tear yourselves away from the moment to see his reaction. He looks so serious. Mouth slightly angled down in a frown. Eyes squeezed shut.
“Keep going,” he mumbles, sensing that you’ve both stopped.
You and Namjoon lock gazes before he dips down inside of you again, pumping his fingers into you even faster, and starting to suck harder now that your clit is blushing and bright.
Sticky. Your hand gets wetter and stickier as you pump Hobi harder and harder, his hips rising to meet your wrist, and your hand falling to meet it back. Faster, too. Double-time, still within measure, but cramming as much as you can between each wonderful note.
“So good,” Hobi whimpers.
You run your thumb over his slit on the next pass.
“Ahh,” Hobi whines, “fuck, yes, so, so, good…”
Namjoon grunts, and you look down to see him. Hobi feels you turn your neck, and he follows your gaze. Namjoon’s still buried in your flesh, but he’s twisted his hips so that he can pump his cock into his own hand, the waistband of his sweats caught in the bend of his knees. The slurps he’s having of you are mixing with the squelches of his own, both punctuated by notes crisp on the end of every movement.
Your head snaps right. Your teeth find Hobi’s neck. You latch on.
“She’s gonna come,” Hobi tells Namjoon urgently. “Keep going.”
Namjoon nods. You feel the tip of his nose, and then not, against your clit. He makes sure to press up on each outward slide of his fingers, moving quicker and quicker as you open your legs wider and wider.
You’re trembling. You’re trembling, no matter how soothing Namjoon’s other hand is on your thigh, or how careful Hobi caresses your breasts under your shirt. You’re trembling, and then you’re flailing, as sweet release befalls you.
All you can do is moan.
Hobi whispers as you come. Some are orders. Stay open. Take your time. Some are words of encouragement. You come so well. So hard.
You’re reeling. Going limp.
Hobi grabs the hem of your shirt and tugs upward. Namjoon sits up and releases his pulsating cock to hold your arms up. The shirt comes off easily enough, but Namjoon seems to be grappling with something.
“No bra?” he mumbles. “This whole time?”
Hobi smiles at the secret he’s kept for himself and shakes his head.
“Fuck,” Namjoon sighs, eyes deepening at the sight of your tits.
You keen as Namjoon is pulled there, burying himself in you, licking and sucking one nipple as Hobi plays with the other.
Arms keep getting in the way. Namjoon finally gathers your wrists together and locks them behind Hobi’s neck.
“Tell me how it feels,” Hobi instructs Namjoon, as Namjoon claws his way out of all of his clothes. “Tell me every single detail.”
Namjoon falls to his knees and wraps your legs around his hips. He pushes into you with a shallow stroke, face scrunching at how you’re still such a warm, tight fit.
“Tell me,” Hobi reminds him.
“Wet,” Namjoon says uneasily. “T-tight. Fuck. Warm.” He whines. “I barely fit.”
Hobi grunts and kisses your shoulder. His left forearm is around your breasts, squeezing you to him. The other is reaching down for your clit, softly massaging around it to help you ease down, and get ready for what’s to come. He repositions his legs around you, laying his thighs over yours, forming a mould and pattern for you to follow. A flat diamond on the ground. Hobi moves so that he can hold you open, the backs of his knees pinning you down.
“Fuck, that’s good,” Namjoon sighs, pushing into you with a little more ease, and with a little less resistance from you.
As Namjoon fucks you, your fingers threaten to unclasp from Hobi’s neck. Hobi raises his arm, wrist in your armpit, pinning your arms up and freeing your breasts, letting them sway and jiggle with each of Namjoon’s perfect, deep strokes. They watch them bounce. Namjoon switches up his strokes to see them move in different patterns. When he hits you with a slow, hard stroke, they watch as your breasts move in full, round circles.
“God that’s gorgeous,” Hobi mutters, keeping his open mouth pressed to your cheek.
Namjoon straightens and rises, starting to lean back into his strokes.
You whimper, and Hobi knows to rub your clit with a little more pressure.
“She’s killing me,” Namjoon whines, eyebrows raised. He looks into your unfocused eyes. “Do you have any fucking idea?”
You let out a chuckle and a half-smile. You open your eyes, big and soft, almost adoring. “Sweet,” you coo, bringing Namjoon’s dimples to the surface.
“Cute.” Hobi runs his tongue across your cheek and draws his lips together for a smacking kiss. “You can give him one more, can’t you?” he teases, peeking at Namjoon through your hair. His voice. Sing-song. “I can help.”
You groan as Hobi wraps his fingers around your clit, so prominent now against the rest of you. “Mmmmmm.” Hobi gives you mini-strokes to match Namjoon’s full ones.
Soon, you’re trembling again.
You turn to Hobi, open-mouthed, panting. He secures your lips in a deep kiss, holding you as still as he can as Namjoon thrusts into you, rails into you, gives it to you as hard as he was ready to give in the beginning.
You can hear the fire crackling in the fireplace. It sounds like everything is crackling like that, as your orgasm runs through you, sending you falling back into Hobi’s hold.
“Look at the way she rolls,” Namjoon sighs. He lifts his bulging bicep up to his forehead to wipe away his sweat. “Like waves in the ocean.”
Hobi knows. He can’t see you from Namjoon’s vantage point, but he feels you rolling against him, riding wave after wave. The word wiggles its way out of his throat. “Sexy.”
“So sexy,” Namjoon agrees.
You can feel Hobi, too. He’s had to keep his wits about him all this time. It’s his turn now.
He wasn’t expecting one. You look back to Hobi and offer him an appreciative kiss, but he feels confused when you break it too soon and rush up off his chest. The cool air is unwelcome.
“Is everything OK?” he asks.
He and Namjoon look so puzzled.
You can’t speak. Not really. Not until morning, you guess. But all you really need to do is wiggle your hips in front of Hobi, looking back at him with an equally playful grin, before leaning forward to Namjoon’s still solid cock, grazing it with your lips.
Namjoon looks over at Hobi questioningly.
“Fuck, you sure?” Hobi asks. Namjoon watches as Hobi’s eyes round the circumference of your perfect ass.
You take Namjoon’s cock into your mouth. Namjoon’s meaty, thick moan is your yes.
Namjoon falls back, couch sliding away a little in its initial inability to support him. Hobi scrambles forward, stroking his cock at the same pace you had been, before tracing your entrance with the tip. You move your hips in the opposite direction, clockwise to his counter. Circling each other before the inevitable clash.
Your tongue wraps around Namjoon’s shaft, tongue tracing veins up from the base all the way to his crown. And his hand cradles your crown as you gobble his entire package up. The seam. The tip. The stretches of muscle and tissue between.
Hobi feels sharper than Namjoon, head slightly more bladed. Or maybe Namjoon’s blunter tip is a reflection of how swollen he’d gotten with all of that massaging. Namjoon moves his fingers in slow circles in your hair, just like Hobi had done. You’re glad. You had been wondering what it felt like. It’s divine.
Your sharp hiss echoes down Namjoon’s cock when Hobi is finally fully inside.
Hobi gives you a slap, and you keen, tonsils buzzing against Namjoon’s tip.
“You really weren’t kidding,” Hobi sighs. “So tight and wet. Unreal.” He closes his eyes and faces the ceiling, hips pausing to let your fluttering cunt readjust, squeezing in slightly different places, releasing in others. Once he’s nice and snug, Hobi grunts and starts to move, his powerful thrust sending the top of your head into Namjoon’s gut.
“Go faster,” Namjoon says eagerly, gathering your hair into a ponytail. “She clenches so nicely here when you get her like that.”
“Here too,” Hobi admits, voice gravelly and strained.
He takes the suggestion, whipping his hips, giving you a little more bite. That raw, inescapable energy lays you out, flat against the floor, ass up, face buried even deeper in Namjoon’s lap.
The painting finally comes to Namjoon’s mind. He needed more shadow than the en suite bathroom light could give him at the time. But now, here. Bathed in that firelight red. The way he’s curved toward you. That fair, smooth, lean muscle. A Caravaggio. His take on John the Baptist. Hobi might as well be leaping out of the frame as he fucks you.
Namjoon moans as he pours himself into you, streams running down the canals of your throat, chest and belly growing fuller.
You gasp as you release him, moaning in response to how seductive Namjoon’s moans are, and how good Hobi is giving it to you.
Namjoon tries to catch his breath as he slides under you, kissing you fiercely, all over your body, at your lips, your neck, your shoulders, your chest. Especially your chest. He holds you steady with his large, strong hands as he sucks on your nipples, nibbling and biting here and there, a snack for him to enjoy as he watches Hobi masterfully pumping in and out of you with the expertise he’s only really seen on the dance floor.
“Fuck!” you cry out, when Hobi changes to a mean piston stroke. Your head hangs forward and nearly bonks into Namjoon’s skull. Namjoon runs his thumb, the first of him to enter you, over your lips, watching them fill and plump, this way, and that. You suck on him, and he leans forward to kiss you.
He brings your wrists up from the floor and helps you hoist yourself up on his shoulders. You lean down onto him, but his seemingly steel frame doesn’t budge, no matter the amount of force that Hobi throws into each stroke.
As you stroke Namjoon’s chest, you bite your lip and look back at Hobi desperately.
Your pussy is sweltering. Quivering. Threatening to buckle.
Hobi leans down to give you a kiss on your back.
His hands brush against Namjoon’s shoulders. And then his palms settle there too, next to yours.
Namjoon places his hands on top, all of you intertwining fingers with each other to hang on, to grasp this moment with everything that you have left.
From Namjoon, you get mesmerizing, adoring kisses. Hobi continues to rail and wail. The perfect mix of sweet and sexy. Hobi and Namjoon are thinking the same thing about you.
Hobi’s hands grip your hips, and his stutter stroke sends you flying forward.
Whimpers crescendo into roars as you come around his cock. The ultimate release. You feel your juices surging out of you. You swear you can feel Namjoon’s load somehow dripping out of you too. You want to tell them, but all you can do is rest your head against Namjoon’s, foreheads pressed together, your hands squeezing each other tight as you try to stay perfect for Hobi.
Hobi’s grunts have gotten weaker and weaker, more and more of his energy going into every insatiable thrust he’s directed into your pussy.
Eyes screwed shut, Hobi isn’t sure if he can keep going.
He looks down at the small of your back and presses his thumbs into the dimples above your ass. He realizes he’s rubbed your ass and back red and raw, and he’s starting to worry that he’s gone too hard. That he’s still going too hard, given how strongly you’ve just come, and how sensitive you must be.
But he can’t stop. He needs to come.
He searches along your back frantically until he sees where your arms are. Hoisted up on Namjoon’s shoulders. Namjoon’s eyes peering up at him in wonder as he Namjoon gives you soft kisses along your jaw, your hair outlining his nose and lips in profile.
Namjoon smiles into the next sweet, beguiling kiss that he presses right under your earlobe.
And then he stretches his tongue out, licking you there.
When you groan, Hobi finally, finally, feels everything coming undone.
When you wake, you notice that Hobi and Namjoon are still, set against slight plinks of rain falling on the tin roof of the shed out back, and warm, relaxed, sleeping breaths as you lie, safe, there, in each others’ arms.
No one’s awake when Namjoon and Hobi tiptoe through the front door. Their parallel scans of the room reap the same information. The group had tried to stay up all night in case they received any word on their missing members. Upon waking, Jin will most likely immediately complain about the crick in his neck, after sleeping upright at one end of the couch, head bent back 90 degrees back, his phone, dead, lying next to it where it rests on the top of the cushion.
The others will probably have similar complaints. Jungkook snores loudly, taking up the entire length of the couch, his head in Jin’s lap, heavy limbs slung all over the place. Jimin and Taehyung are curled up in one another on the other couch, sharing a blanket from Hobi’s room. Yoongi is stiff and still, stomach down on the floor, face buried in a throw pillow, headphones hiding his cheeks.
“Should we wake them?” Namjoon whispers.
Hobi shakes his lead. “Let them sleep. They must be tired.”
He moves toward his room, but Namjoon reaches out for him.
“I won’t be able to sleep,” Namjoon complains in a whisper.
Hobi sets their backpack by the door to signal that they’re home, safe and sound.
And then, he follows Namjoon to his room.
Namjoon immediately strips off his sweatshirt and sweatpants, bounding into bed in nothing but his boxers. He lies on his side, simply reaching out for Hobi to join him.
Hobi watches him for a moment. That arm blindly feeling around. Rather than fight it, he strips down to his boxers and climbs into Namjoon’s bed. He’s surprised when Namjoon takes Hobi’s arm and wraps it around himself.
Namjoon so rarely gets to be the little spoon.
“Not quite ready for things to go back to normal yet,” he explains, despite the lack of pressure to give one, and the lack of need for one at all.
Hobi settles into Namjoon’s back. Namjoon’s muscles are already tightening again. Taking on the stress. Absorbing what he thinks everyone will say when they wake up.
They don’t have much time.
“Relax,” Hobi whispers.
Namjoon sighs, frustrated.
But the breath comes easier when Hobi rests the inside of his knee on the outside of Namjoon’s.
“What’s got you pent up again, anyway?” Hobi asks. “We’re home.”
“Wanted to stay longer,” Namjoon mumbles. “Wanted… more.”
Hobi smiles to himself. Warmth floods his chest. Not just from the inside. He can feel it in Namjoon’s chest too, from the place where Namjoon is so tightly pressing Hobi’s palm into him.
“We can have more,” Hobi dares to whisper.
Namjoon grunts softly, moving Hobi’s palm in a circle.
Hobi’s other hand slips between Namjoon’s hips and the mattress. As Namjoon rolls back into him to give Hobi’s arm space, he sighs softly. Happily.
Hobi’s fingers reach for Namjoon’s waking length, pulling it out of the front of his boxers. Hobi thinks of his own grip on himself in your shower. How maybe, if he had held on, they would have gotten more.
Namjoon grunts nervously as Hobi’s fingers circle his shaft.
“I can always give you more,” Hobi whispers.
Namjoon’s head lolls forward as Hobi slowly strokes all the way down, his palm cushioning and rotating around the flushed, thick tip. Namjoon has been struggling for weeks, but none of that compares to the struggle of trying to keep his wanton moans buried. This is what it feels like when things come easily. Namjoon’s grateful for Hobi’s reminder. He could write a million songs, right now.
Hobi’s hand loosens as he drags his fist up Namjoon’s cock, but then it tightens again as he travels back down.
Namjoon’s hips start to pump, and Hobi squeezes his fist as he sighs into the crook of Namjoon’s neck.
“Fuck,” Namjoon gasps. “So good.”
Hobi agrees, grunts pushing past one another in his throat.
He looks down at their bodies meeting, colliding. His own need is starting to pulse in time to the rhythm that he’s so selflessly giving. Namjoon can feel it. So he reaches back and hooks the crook of his elbow into the bend of Hobi’s knee.
When Namjoon turns back to Hobi, hoping it’s enough to send him the message that he wants to send, Hobi blinks in surprise.
All it takes is Namjoon’s heavy-lidded, slight, sure nod, but he licks his lips slowly for good measure.
Hobi grunts and angles himself to spread around Namjoon’s broad body, and at the feel of the tip of Hobi’s cock by his ass, Namjoon starts to pump even faster into Hobi’s hand.
“You want it bad, huh?” Hobi chuckles.
“So bad.” Namjoon moans, throwing his hips back, desperate for more than just the taste of Hobi’s tip between his cheeks. “When I watched you fucking her, I…”
He lets himself growl.
“—I know,” Hobi confesses. It feels good to confess. “Me too.”
Hobi bites his lip and slides inside. Namjoon is losing the battle against the grunts and groans, but Hobi’s free hand, no longer on Namjoon’s waist, cups Namjoon’s mouth with a slight slap, landing in the nick of time.
He looks so pained, but gloriously so. Not that different from when the responsibilities and obligations enter his mind.
Cheeky, Hobi thinks. Maybe Namjoon enjoys his torture more than he lets on.
Hobi thrusts even harder, entering Namjoon fully and feeling Namjoon’s tongue start to lick his fingers from inside the cage his hand has made around his mouth. A shuddering breath escapes Hobi’s lips as he bends down to Namjoon’s shoulder. When he bites down, Namjoon wants nothing more than to howl in response.
Everything’s mixing together. The sound of raindrops on your shed is cutting through the early morning city traffic.
Namjoon squeezes Hobi’s thigh, the defined line there perfect for him to hang onto. Hobi twists a little, torso no longer flush against Namjoon’s back now that he feels that it has softened, giving way to the moment.
Hobi pulls back even more, the angle of his thrusting getting deeper and deepering.
Namjoon whimpers warningly, gripping Hobi’s thigh harder, nails digging into flesh. Interesting, the impulse to tear things apart. To ask to be torn apart in return.
When Hobi quickens his pace, Namjoon shakes Hobi’s hand off of his face and recaptures his fingers in his lips, starting to suck frantically.
Hobi stares at Namjoon’s head bobbing forward and backward, hungry little grunts escaping each time the tips of his fingers dance close to Namjoon’s throat. What might it feel like if Namjoon’s lips were wrapped around something else of his? Is it too late to find out?
“Fuck,” Hobi breathes, skin slapping skin faster and faster.
A crackling moan buzzes through Namjoon’s flexing tonsils, pushing Hobi’s fingers away and out of his mouth. Quiet, but pressured. Forceful.
Namjoon turns to latch onto Hobi’s wrist, resting against the pillow. He licks and sucks there, nibbling as he rides the wave that each spurt of cum tugs forward from him.
His hand reaches back for Hobi’s ass, fondling and grabbing as it works against him. He smiles with pride when he clenches, and Hobi’s smooth stroke starts to waver.
One more clench, and Hobi feels like he’s imploding. Plumes and plumes of cum fly out of him. He feels like he’s being turned inside out. His bones and joints ache.
When the room stops spinning, Hobi and Namjoon find sleep happily awaiting them again.
Hobi runs his hand up Namjoon’s side. “This ‘more’ that you want,” he whispers. “It’s not ‘more’ at all. It isn’t hard to give. Just ask.” And then he smiles. “Thank you.”
Namjoon startles. “What— I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he asserts.
He rolls over and finds himself gazing, actually gazing, into Hobi’s precious eyes.
“What are you thanking me for?”
“For everything,” Hobi whispers. “For being our leader.” He places his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “For everything you carry.” His hand runs down to Namjoon’s solid chest, still panting from exertion. Namjoon’s hand wraps around his, squeezing with appreciation. “For setting it all down and coming away with me.”
Namjoon’s smile sparkles. He’s returned to his true form, the leader they know and love.
It’s all the satisfaction Hobi needs from a job well done.
But he just as much welcomes the unexpected way that Namjoon leans forward and wraps Hobi’s lips in his. More words, the last ones still pent up, being shared now, before dawn breaks, and the world reclaims them.
50 notes · View notes
Hello Honey! I would like to req something! i was thinking about yandere Yoongi and y/n, and she suffers stockholm syndrome. Then she's kidnapped and Yoongi saves her. I WOULD LOVE if you can add hints of ddlg (or just petnames.) Maybe you can write this beginning with y/n already saved by Yoongi and they are going home. IDK just do it how u please!!! Thank you so much! (btw i just read some req so if you don't what do to Yoongi, it's okay ~)
Admin note: Thank you for your request, I’m so sorry for the wait, I hope this is okay! ♥️ I’m new to dee dee el gee so I hope I portrayed it well.
Warnings: injury (scraped knee)
“It hurts, Yoongi.”
“I know. I know, Princess. I’m sorry. Hold on a bit longer for me, it will be over soon?”
You nodded with a sniffle as you looked down at Yoongi spraying the antiseptic spray on your scraped knee.
“Ow!” You winced as you pulled your leg up. “No more!” You denied, forcing your eyes away from the nasty wound on your knee. Those scary men were rough and manhandled you like you were a sack of potatoes, they didn’t care that you got hurt.
“It’s over now.” Yoongi assured you before he turned back to the first aid kit and grabbed a bandage.
“Will that hurt?” You asked as you pointed at the thing in his hand.
“No, it won’t.”
“Promise?” You tilted your head, skeptical.
“Yes, I promise.” Yoongi leaned in, and as promised, wrapping the bandage around your knee wasn’t painful.
“This is all my fault.” Yoongi sighed in annoyance.
“It’s not your fault, I should’ve been more careful in the first place.” You whimpered as you looked down at your bandaged knee. “Thank you for helping me with my knee...”
Yoongi kissed the top of your head and as he did, memories of your past life flashed through your mind.
This man climbed through your bedroom window one night.
He took everything away from you - your family, your friends, your home. Yet, you felt yourself incapable of hating his guts, matter of fact, the more time you spent with him the more you forgot about how your life used to be.
Of course you would. It has been four years already since Yoongi lovingly lifted you out of your bed and took you to your forever home - his place.
“No, I knew those guys.” You snapped out of thoughts at Yoongi’s words.
“You did?” You gasped in surprise.
“I borrowed money from them, but shit, that was 5 years ago, I never expected them to go after you for something as stupid as a $100.” You could tell Yoongi felt incredibly guilty as his head hung low, unable to look at you.
“I wandered off too far at the beach. I’ll be more careful, Yoongi...” You held his hand. “Please don’t be sad, I’m okay now..” You tried to cheer him up just like he always did with you.
“Thank you, Princess. I love you so much.” He looked up at you and grinned.
“I love you too, King.” You took in the few kisses he pressed against your lips.
“But... what if those bad guys try to get me again?” You interrupted the special moment between the two of you with your burning question.
“You don’t ever have to worry about them again, Princess.”
55 notes · View notes
BTS If They Went To A Gay Bar
A/N : this is how i imagine bts to act if they went to a gay bar, which i honestly hope one day they do bc i’ve heard they’re very fun 😭 enjoy !!
flirting with everybody, no matter the gender
getting hyped to the music
is the driver so he ain’t gonna be drinking much but instead eating all the food
the life of the party
although he may be the one sitting down at the table while the rest are on the dance floor, he’s having the time of his life
eventually gets up to dance against his will
ends up making a new friend (:
the life of the party along with jin
forcing yoongi to dance
the loudest mf in the building
making conversation with literally anybody
gives the drag queens the biggest tips
forcing all the members to leave since they don’t want to
made at least ten people fall for him with just a glance
on the dance floor with jungkook, acting like literal crack addicts
blackout drunk by the end of it tbh
with the drag queens getting tips on how to walk in even bigger heels
doing karaoke with namjoon
ends up spamming twitter like that one time in 2014
with jimin on the dance floor
ends up getting lost while trying to find the washroom
the hardest to deal with afterwards
hope everybody enjoyed reading this 🤍
29 notes · View notes
tyrant love | 028. coming soon
the friend group readies for jungkook’s album release, and jungkook is officially added to the lifeline group chat.
pairing: jungkook x named!reader
genre: attempted comedy, fluff
a/n: the group chat may have been a close call~
taglist: @carolina-angel @rageyoudamnednerd @dreamcatcherjiah @woodstockbtswriter @awseokjin @preciouschimine @milk-and-moni
28 notes · View notes
menu: part 1 [ masterlist l series masterlist ] part 3 (coming soon)
Pairing [Incubus! Yoongi x Reader]
Genre [Underworld AU, Dystopia, Fantasy, Demon AU, Smut, Romance, Demon Pet Shop AU]
Summary [Your trip to Eigengrau is just the beginning. With Yoongi by your side, you plan to tackle down the underworld and make it your bitch.]
Series Warnings [(sex) slavery, mistreatment, women are superior to men in this fictional world, selling and buying demons, dystopian world, fantasy, the Underworld and Earth are connected, bruises, violence, nudity, sexual themes, talk about sex]
Smut Warnings [handjob, guided masturbation, dirty talk, gagging, blowjob, oral (m), cumming down oc’s throat, sub! yoongi, exhibitionism]
Word Count [ (1.8k) ]
”How’s your shoulder?” You ask Yoongi when you get into a private setting saved from privy dark eyes, you’re inside the rental car your butler prepared for you to use while you’re dealing with things at the second land (black as there’s hardly any other colour to suit the Underworld) on your way to go to Eigengrau’s heart, the tinted glasses hide you away from the mass as they watch the vehicle zoom past them.
Car’s are not that common underground as demon’s don’t need the same means of transport as humans, all they need to do is think about the place and teleport to the destination in mind. It lets them know who’s sitting in the backseat, or rather what kind. Your arrival was already expected and as soon as you reach the pantenon concealing your true nature would be a waste of your time, the car is solely for convenience. There’s no need for others to snoop around your business.
You’re sitting side by side even though there’s enough space for him to put a friendly distance between you if he truly wanted to, your thighs touch and rub together when the otherworldly driver chooses a rocky path and makes a U-turn. Neither of you pulls away. If anything Yoongi presses his fingertips to the dip of your hips stabilising you so the path won’t throw you off as much. Your hand naturally finds a way to rest against his shoulder just right above the tattoo of his promise to you.
”It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Mistress.” The incubus reassures you with a ghostly smile and gentle digs of his fingers, his beauty is eternal even in dim lights the whites of his eyes almost equal to the endless black irises now that his hunger has been sated temporarily by your sinful touch.
You let out a tiny click sound with your tongue in disapproval hearing your formal title on polite lips. You thought that you’re already past the formalities.
”Don’t call me that when it’s just the two of us.” Yoongi wants to smooth the appearing lines on your forehead with his fingers but instead, he chooses the safer option, looks away but keeps his hands around you.
Yoongi lowers his gaze and watches his veiny hands holding you delicately in place, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach that you’re already displeased with him. It wasn’t your intention to make him insecure, you just hate hearing that ominous title leave his lips as if you regard him less like an equal and more like a pet.
He still didn’t get to thank you for choosing him from all the capable incubi to please you.
Being bound to you is the greatest gift in his long immortal life, he couldn’t possibly ask for anything more. Yoongi is ready to serve you till the end of time if you let him.
You visited the shop on a few occasions when you had to attend meetings, the other workers liked to tease him about your fixation on him. After every visit and every day you showed up you never failed to request his private services to use it as an excuse to talk to him. This information always manages to make his heart go boom boom.
He still had doubts about you wanting his company though. No one paid for his services for him to listen to them talk and he didn’t think someone would care to listen to him do the same. But you were different in every sense. Different as a woman and different as a human.
He likes sex, he’s an incubus it’s a task on a list he crosses out on his to-do list daily for his body to function healthily.
It’s a routine for him as much as brushing his teeth in the morning or showering. It’s in his nature but he had to admit you feeding him words of different philosophy about life intrigued him and spurred him on to think about hard questions he otherwise wouldn’t have the education to dwell on. You speak of equality, a foreign word he never heard uttered by anyone before.
Yoongi’s a sinner, he’s a demon and it means that you’re not only occupying his thoughts when he mulls over your conversations but when he’s touching himself alone in the dark or when he’s requested for a test trial.
You asked him if he would like to cum, he never heard of a woman asking for his permission before let that be another demon or human. Or put his pleasure before theirs, they just did what they wanted and he sat like an obedient slut and took what was given to him just like his race was taught to. He wasn’t allowed to complain, most times he wasn’t even allowed to cum to prolong the woman or man’s pleasure. Yoongi knows his place in this society, he’s just a sex toy who happens to breathe and talk but is still treated as an inanimate object.
”What’s on your mind darling?” You cup his jaw gently to turn his face in your direction and tear him out of his aimless daydreaming. You pretend like you don’t know about the growing bulge barely hidden under his layers of clothing.
”I’m thinking about your hand. How good it felt.” Yoongi searches the depth of your eyes pushing every other thought out of his mind in favour to savour the memory of your gloved hand around his erection. In case he’s stepping over an invisible line he waits for your reaction to his sinful words but all you do is smile and rub comforting circles onto his skin.
”After I had my meeting with the general we can play a little on our way home but until then. I need you to be a good boy, yeah?” He’s a great temptation with his mouth slightly open, bedroom eyes perfected two millennia ago to draw in the attention he deserves. You’re his first master that he badly wants to please. Yoongi was never eager to feel the touch of someone until he met you and you’re so gentle treating him like he’s made of glass.
It felt like your meeting went on forever but you promised to reward him. He reminds himself that he needs to be good and refrain from touching himself just like you instructed before you exited the vehicle.
He got hard fantasising about you during the car ride and it took everything in him not to lower his pants and wrap his veiny hands around his erection to feel the relief.
He reminded himself again when his will temporarily weakened that this painful tightness in his pants will be worth it. He would put your touch above his own any time of the day. In reality, the meeting only lasts for half an hour and you’re back. Instructing the driver to make the next trip to the portal so you can go home to earth.
”You did well.”
You whisper the words seductively into the demon’s ears once you’re comfortably seated next to him which results in a shudder running down his spine in anticipation.
He’s rock hard inside his pants, however, the painful throbbing subsides when you palm him over the fabric in silent praise for his self-control. There’s a low groan freed from the back of his throat at the stimulation, you can feel his member twitch under your touch. You giggle low in his ears pleased with how eager he seems.
”Do you want my mouth on you, my little devil?” You lick your lips in good measure, loving how affected he’s just by your simple gestures. His responsiveness is a huge turn-on for you. Your folds are getting sticky as Yoongi continues to moan uncaring if the driver hears him or not as you keep rubbing his cock with your palm.
”Yes, yes. Please.” You remove your touch once he starts begging, your demon thrust his hips into the air to chase your hand but you cup his cheeks instead and kiss the corner of his mouth.
”Take your cock out for me then.” Yoongi’s hands immediately go to his pants to unzip it and wriggle the material lower so he can free his hard length to expose himself to the cold air of the car.
”Get yourself wet and ready, rub your pretty pink tip with your pointer finger in slow circles. Just like that. You’re doing so good for me.” You kiss his neck this time, you watch him follow your instructions diligently, moaning and squirming under your heavy gaze.
The visual sight of his hands wrapped around his cock makes arousal shoot down to your core, your panties are soaked at this point but you fix your focus on him instead of jumping on his dick to have this empty feeling disappear in your pussy.
Maybe another time. You don’t want your first time with him to be at a stinky vehicle you much more prefer the safety of your bedroom for activities like that.
You kiss his jaw, licking and sucking a bruise onto his neck while you whisper filthy words into his ears in between.
”You’re so ready for me, I can hear your fist moving up and down your drenched cock. I bet you could cum just like that within minutes without me touching you.”
Yoongi nods his head along with your words fervently, increasing his pace, he drags the skin of his cock as more of his precum drips from his red tip so close to completion when you wrap your smaller hands around his on his needy cock to control his movements. Slowing down to teasing drags until his moans come out in a higher raspy pitch.
”We don’t want to make a mess now, do we?” Your smirk is sinister as you change your position to be somewhat in a kneeling position as long as the seats let you in the cramped space. Taking your place in between his thighs you lick a long stripe up his length, sucking his tip into your mouth before you begin bobbing your head up and down his shaft.
Tears gather in the corner of your bottom lashes when Yoongi’s hips shove his cock deeper down your throat hitting the back of it.
You warn him with a dig of your nails into his exposed hips, glaring with your blurry vision set on him to give back the control and he does. He relaxes into his seat letting you set how fast or how deep are you going down until Yoongi twitches in your mouth signalling his fast approaching orgasm. You reward his obedience with a hard swallow.
It doesn’t take him long to release his warm cum in your mouth, the demon watches you with half-lidded eyes as you drink every drop of him. Feeling cheeky enough to stick out your tongue once he comes down from his high to show him you got everything.
You can’t wait to get home.
25 notes · View notes
☁ drama ☼ slice of life
☂ angst ☮ comedy
❀ romance/fluff ❦ mature
∴ For Series:
✎in progress ✔complete
© all written works and banners are my original creations.
i do not give consent to repost, translate, edit, and/or plagiarize my works.
➤ restoration ☼ ❦
➤ a spoon full of punishment ❦
➤ piano keys ❦
➤hopeless place || ❦ ☁ ☂ ✎
↳ Summary: It’s like you’re screaming, and no one can hear. You almost feel ashamed. That someone could be that important. That without them, you feel like nothing. No one will ever understand how much it hurts. You feel hopeless; like nothing can save you. And when it’s over, and it’s gone. You almost wish that you could have all that bad stuff back. So that you could have the good.
↳ coming soon
➤ breathe || ❦ ☁ ✎
↳ Summary: A handsome gentlemen you meet by chance, introduces you to a world of endless desires.
↳ teaser || masterlist
➤ deathless romance ❀
➤ peek a boo ❦
➤ so when you gonna tell him? ☂
➤ lose myself || ❀ ☮ ❦ ✎
↳ Summary: People always say how the awkward stages of your life happen while you’re in high school. Discovering your sexuality, having sex for the first time, crushes on your teacher and awkward familial moments. No one ever tells you that “that awkward stage” can skip high school all together and settle right into your college life…I guess that’s what happens when you’re still a virgin at 20…
↳ coming soon
19 notes · View notes
lisp 1/3 - JJK | M
↣ from day one, he has the irrational urge to protect you, even from himself.
pairing: hybrid!jungkook x reader
based on this request.
genre: angst, fluff, smut, f2l
word count: 9K
warnings/tags: snake hybrid!JK, childhood friends au, protective JK, goofy namjoon, strong language, JK has a weird pet name for you (smiggle vibes), JK has a forked tongue, JK is soft for you, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, mentions of masturbation, JK’s spit has abilities, explicit smut- dirty talk, hair pulling, thigh riding, soft to rough sex, wall sex, scratching, biting, oral (f & m), handjob, unprotected sex, choking, spit kink, lots of cum, cum inflation, multiple orgasms, pussy slapping, overstimulation
I added my own spice to snake hybrids.
a/n: Watch this video, you know, as a taster.
“Look at his eyes!”
Hands on your hips, palm tree ponytails swinging as you walk, “leave him alone!”
“What are you gonna do?”
With a light push, you fall to the floor, tears prickling your eyes.
“Leave her alone!”
The next thing you hear are wails, “help help!”
Mrs. Choi steps out of the classroom, while you stare wide-eyed at the raven-haired boy in front of you, slit pupils, sharp teeth digging into his lips, forked tongue poking out.
“They started it!”
You dust your hands on your baby pink dress, chubby fingers pointing at the three boys who cower behind the slide.
“Now, Y/N. You know what happens when you lie.”
“But I’m not lying,” you pout, “they were pushing and hitting him! I helped him!”
“Taeyong, is that true?”
“Why are you asking him?” You shout, “he’s just gonna lie to you! Don’t you believe me?!”
“What’s your name?”
“Y/L/N Y/N,” you sniffle, waiting outside the principal’s office for your mother, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.
“I’m Jeon Jungkook.”
“Hi,” you manage a smile, closing your hand around his extended one, immediately pulling it out of his hold when you feel how cold his hand is.
“I’m sorry, Taeyong makes me so angry! I had to do something! And when he pushed you, I was so so angry!”
“I’m scared. Do you think the principal will kick us out of school?”
“I don’t know…”
The clock ticking above your head sends another gush of tears down your cheeks.
“If we get kicked out, we can go to the same new school! Together!”
Wiping your nose with the back of your wrist, you stare at the boy with scales on his hands.
“A new school?”
He nods, “mhm, a school for hybrids and humans! All over again!”
“Are you a dragon?”
“What?! No! I’m a snake!”
Offended, the boy’s beady eyes look you up and down.
“You don’t seem like a snake!”
“What are you saying?! I am a snake!”
To prove his point, his brown eyes narrow into slits, you notice shimmering flecks in them this time.
Folding your arms, you squint your eyes in his direction, “you aren’t scary at all! Snakes are scary!”
You poke his cheek, “you’re soft!”
He pinches your arm, “but you’re softer, human!”
Rubbing the sore area, you shake your head, “yes I am! But you aren’t scary!”
“I will bite your neck and tear you apart! Make you cry!”
“Nope,” you shut your eyes, “you won’t.”
“Yes I will!”
He springs up from the chair, you do the same.
Grabbing you by your shoulders, he tugs you closer, “I will hurt you!”
“I’m not scared of you, Jungkookie.”
“My name is Jungkook!”
“You didn’t push me at the sandbox like Taeyong, you won’t hurt me. I know!”
Sighing, Jungkook looks down at your hands, clear and smooth, unlike his scaly ones. He takes your hands in his and compares them, in awe at the difference.
You’re looking down at your hands too, goosebumps prickle your skin with how cold his hands feel.
Your mother grabs your arm and tugs you away from Jungkook, she glances at you then back at him.
“Remember what I said about the dangerous kids at school?”
She crouches down in front of you, her back facing Jungkook who stares at you with big doe-eyes.
“Mhm, those humans are dangerous!”
“Humans? Y/N,” she shakes her head, “you’re a human. Come on-“ she takes your hand in hers and pulls you toward the exit while you wave at Jungkook.
“Mom,” you look up at your mother, “is his mother gonna fetch him?”
“I don’t know sweetheart, but he’s in big trouble for biting that boy.”
“He bit Taeyong because Taeyong pushed me!”
Your mother buckles you in the backseat while you cry out, “Mommy can Jungkookie come play with me?”
“We’ll have to ask his mother, okay?”
You beam at her.
The next day at school, you search for Jungkook, seeing him sit at a corner near the sandbox.
“My name is Jungkook! And hello.”
You plop down next to him, “can I have your mother’s number?”
He picks up a handful of sand, tongue poking out to wet his lips, you blink at him.
“So my mommy can tell your mommy to let you come play at my house!”
He shakes his head, “mother won’t let me.”
“Why? You have to come play with me!”
“I can ask her.”
You grab some sand in your own hand, wondering what’s so good about letting it fall from between your fingers like what he’s doing.
“Yes ask her! And bring your toys!”
He laughs, forked tongue darting out, you gawk at the movement.
“You won’t like my toys.”
“I eat them.”
He nods, “yes I eat them.”
You furrow your eyebrows, moving a little closer so he can hear your whisper.
“Why do you talk funny?”
He turns his head to look at you, lips in a pout, “like what?”
“That’s because I’m a snake.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes I am sure! If you are my real friend you’ll believe me!”
He stands up but you yank him down by his hand.
“Okay okay I’m sorry. I’m your real friend!”
You’re letting your hair fall in front of your face, blocking out the snickers that are pointed in your direction. Despite pleading with your mother to not send you to school today after yesterday’s accident, knowing almost everyone in your class saw, even the boys, you’re extremely embarrassed.
You feel something hit the back of your head, so you spin around and right at your shoe, is a pad in bright pink packaging, when you lift your head, you notice that everyone is watching you, sniggering with their friends.
Vision being blurred by tears, you run down the hallway, wiping your tears furiously only for you to be stopped by two strong hands on your shoulders. You hiccup, meeting Jungkook’s worried gaze.
“What’s wrong, precious?”
Jungkook’s natural drag on his “S” sounds only comes out on a few occasions; when he’s overly excited, when it’s just the two of you hanging out, when he’s extremely angry and when he’s worried. The way his pupils narrow tells you that it’s the last two.
You point behind you, to the pink packaging that’s still on the floor.
Jungkook’s nostrils flare, eyes darting to the children who still stand and watch, murmuring insults about you and your accident yesterday. He can hear them, whispering about the both of you and it drives him mad.
“Wait here for me, okay?”
You nod, standing to the side near a classroom door, watching Jungkook as he grips one of the boys by his collar. You want to call out to him and tell him to stop what he’s doing, you don’t want him to get into trouble again for your sake, but you know better than to interfere.
You can’t hear what he’s telling the boy, but the way the frightened boy’s cream pants starts to darken at his crotch makes everyone laugh, and when Jungkook lets the boy go with a disgusted face, spinning around to glare at the onlookers, they fall silent. The only thing you can hear is Jungkook’s footsteps as he makes his way back to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the building to your favorite spot under the tree. Just enough space between the leaves for sunlight to poke through and just enough shade for you.
But you stop in your tracks when you notice who’s sitting in your usual spot. Jungkook glances at you then follows your gaze to the senior lying down under the tree.
Jungkook walks forward, but you grip his arm with both hands and pull him to your side.
“Let’s find somewhere else to sit.”
He pats your head, “that’s our spot, come on.”
He drags you along the grass, while you keep your eyes fixed on your shoes, tightening your hold on his hand.
“Hello. This is our spot.”
Your eyes flicker to the wolf hybrid who chuckles, regretting it immediately when you catch a glimpse of his pointy teeth, a reminder of the fresh wounds on Jungkook’s neck.
“I don’t see your name on it.”
“Actually-“ Jungkook begins but you tug at his hand, pleading with him to let it go, you do not want to witness him in a bloodied state ever again.
“Actually, it is. If you-“
The wolf hybrid springs up and comes face to face with Jungkook, you gasp, burying your face in Jungkook’s shoulder.
“Please, please,” you whisper, knowing he can hear you.
“Actually if I- what? What, Jeon? You gonna spit on me again?”
You feel Jungkook tense in your hold, then he surprises you.
“Come on, Y/N,” he wraps an arm around your waist, shoving his hand in your hoodie pocket.
You can hear growling coming from behind you, but Jungkook ignores it.
Jungkook remembers the terror on your face when he tore at Sungho’s arm, but in the end, he was the one who faced suspension from school after he tried to protect you from a beast like Sungho.
He beams at you, knowing that you’re proud of him for walking away, something that he never does.
“You think that the end of the semester will bring happiness and joy, all I feel is the pressure of waiting for my results.”
You nudge Taehyung with your hip, “come on. What’s done is done, have some fun.”
Giggling, you give a dramatic bow then down your drink, turning around to ask the bartender for another round.
“Maybe you should slow down, hmm?”
You shrug Jungkook’s hand off your shoulder, “don’t kill my vibe.”
Jungkook lets his hand fall to his side. He can’t argue with you, not with your human friends around, knowing how much they love to scrutinize your relationship. They love to put him on the spot, nit-pick his behavior around you and he’s afraid that they might draw your attention to something he’s been trying to hide since the first day of middle school.
“I’m gonna dance.”
He watches you prance in between the sweaty bodies, the loud music hurts his ears, but you had asked him to come with you, to the club, he knows what kind of danger lurks in a place like this. Danger in the form of a man who is currently wrapping his arm around your waist.
Jungkook watches you smile and politely push his hand away. Jungkook nods to himself in approval.
The man is insistent and Jungkook slams his glass on the counter behind him, charging toward the man who is pressing his crotch to your ass. Maybe he hears Taehyung say something like ‘here he goes’ to Hoseok, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the panicked look in your eyes when the man brings his greasy face close to your neck, squirming in his hold.
Nails digging into the man’s neck, Jungkook’s arm is outstretched as he shoves him away from you.
“What the fu-“
Immediately, you watch the man scurry away, not even bothering to look at Jungkook, knowing that he must’ve used one of his new tricks to scare him. He wraps his cold hand around your arm, and you try to break out of his grip, but he’s too strong.
“Jungkook!” You shout over the music, but he continues to drag you out of the bar, you know he heard you.
When he pulls you out into the warm night, you yank your hand away, only because he let you, of course.
“What are you doing? I was having fun!”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, “do you have any idea what that man was thinking? He-“
“Oh,” you laugh exasperatedly, arms swinging in the air, “so you’re some fucking mind-reader now? Is that one of your new tricks?!”
You roll your eyes and walk toward the entrance, but he grabs your arm again, and by pure accident one of his nails dig into the skin of your wrist.
“Shit fuck fuck,” he brings your hand up to his lips to lick at the wound, but you pull your hand away.
“Go home. Because you’re spoiling my night.”
With that, you’re smoothing down the hem of your dress and walking back inside the club while Jungkook stands there feeling dejected.
He doesn’t stay out there for long because the breeze makes him hurry to his warm car that’s parked across the club.
As he starts up the engine, he can’t bring himself to drive away, each time he notices someone enter or leave the club, he’s hoping that it’s you.
What if something happens to you? What if you’re in danger and he isn’t there to protect you? What if there’s another creepy guy who forces you into-
Fuck. He isn’t going anywhere. He switches off his engine and turns off his lights. He’ll just wait until he sees you going out of the club with your useless, human friends who are weak in the eyes of danger.
He will wait and stew in the darkness and warmth of his car, picking at the last flecks of dry skin on his palm from his most recent molt.
The pang in his chest goes ignored, like always, these days you’ve been acting a little distant from him. Choosing to spend time with your human friends instead of him, while he has no one except you. Not that he hates only having you as a friend, because he knows that even if he did have other friends, he would still choose you over them. Over anything.
As the distance between the two of you grows, he’s becoming more and more protective of you and dare he say, possessive. Maybe it’s the reptilian side of him? He doesn’t understand his biology himself, but the new tricks he told you about was just a cover.
Because one day, he lost his temper at the grocery store when a guy was hitting on you, and you had pointed out that his eyes had turned blood red. He peeked in a mirror behind one of the refrigerators and was shocked himself, because he had never done or seen that before. He had never seen his mother’s eyes turn red before, it was unnerving, even to him, because you had seen it before him, and he was unprepared. So, he brushed it off as a new trick.
But then, he started to discover more of his tricks, how his spit can act as an aphrodisiac especially when he’s thinking of you instead of the woman under him. He doesn’t even know if that was his venom, because he knew from his mother that he could give what is called a ‘dry bite,’ which is just a regular nip with the teeth, but he didn’t think that it would suddenly be bursting out of him.
How his vision will suddenly become crystal clear, even better than his usual reptilian sight, he could count each strand of hair on your head from a mile away. How his fangs would extend beyond what he recalled.
He was too embarrassed to ask his mother about these changes, so he let them be. But that only makes him feel a little more disappointed in himself, disappointed that these changes might push you away from him. You might think that his animal counterpart is taking full control of his body, he already hates himself for his scales that dot certain patches of skin, maybe he hates his entire being just because he knows that you would never consider being with someone like him, some creature when you’re a precious human.
You associate with him, he’s your best friend, but that’s where it stops. Because he is an animal that cannot help his urges, what’s built in him is something he cannot direct or administer in whatever way he feels like. Some things just happen and he’s afraid that he might lapse into a momentary state of no self-restraint. He doesn’t want that to happen around you.
Maybe this was his fate, that with time, his predatorial nature would drown out his human senses. Maybe it’s different for male snakes.
It’s 1:37AM when he sees you stumble out of the club, he ducks down to hide his presence and zooms in on the guy holding your heels, his arm is around your shoulder as he guides you to his white Mercedes. He’s a cat hybrid, with blonde hair, human features that resemble a feline in every aspect.
Jungkook feels his heart thud in his chest, of course, you’d like the gentle ones if you ever pick a hybrid. That sensation is back, his chest puffs out, bubbling with a feeling akin to anxiety along with the overwhelming urge to attack.
But as he watches the car speed past him, he doesn’t sense any danger, like before with the other man in the club. All he feels is jealousy.
[14:21] You: hey
[16:07] You: heyya
[16:48] You: you busy?
[17:00] You: can I come over pls
[18:33] You: 🥺
[20:02] You: where are youuu
[21:33] You: pick up
[22:15] You: now Im getting worried
[22:39] You: Jungkookie?
You’re taking the steps up to your apartment sluggishly, wondering why the hell Jungkook isn’t answering your calls or your messages or his front door.
Maybe he’s gone to visit his mother?
That can’t be because he always takes you along with him, you miss the sweet lady and your best friend.
You think about Saturday night, you feel a little guilty for yelling at him. You can’t even remember properly because it all happened so fast, you don’t even remember what you had said to him, whether you had picked on his appearance, you had done that before. You do remember how the scab on your wrist got there, you know how much care he takes to clip his nails and make sure that he doesn’t hurt you. He probably feels embarrassed.
Deciding to visit him again tomorrow, you take a shower and tuck yourself in bed, exhausted from driving up and down to his place all day.
The next morning, at around 10:20AM, you knock on his door, foot tapping on the wooden floor impatiently. You scrunch up your face at the heavy tray of sausages in your hand, the ones he loves so much, the ones that are stuffed with things that you wouldn’t even dare to find out, the ones that cost ten times more than regular sausages.
You’re afraid that he won’t answer again, and your patience is wearing thin. So, you pull out your phone and call him again, balancing his food in your hand along with your bag.
Rapping at his door, you press your ear to the wood and hear his ringtone, a scoff leaving your lips. He’s actually ignoring you!
You kick the door, “I know you’re in there!”
You cut the call and continue to boot the bottom half of his door, “open up asshole! I know you’re in there!”
Hearing a door across the hallway open, you spin around to be met with two droopy eyes.
“Y/N? What’s all the noise for?”
“Oh,” you laugh sheepishly, “hey, Namjoon. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
The sloth hybrid waves a hand dismissively, the other one rubs his eye with the heel of his palm, “it’s okay.”
You thrust your thumb in the direction of the door behind you, “is Jungkook home?”
“Yes. I mean…no,” he shakes his head.
“Well, he’s in there but he said if you ever ask, I should say that he isn’t,” he smiles, dimples denting his cheeks.
You poke your tongue in your cheek, “uh huh,” turning around to glare at the door menacingly.
“Anyway,” your attention is drawn to the sleepy man behind you, “I’ll see you around, Y/N. Can you guys keep it down?”
“Right right. Sorry. You have a good nap.”
He nods and disappears behind the door and right on cue, you hear Jungkook’s door unlock. When you try to push it open with your shoulder, he holds the door open just a crack.
“Open up! Why haven’t you been answering?!”
“I was in the shower!”
“All fucking weekend?!”
He pokes his head through the small opening, “I just showered.”
“So? Let me in!”
“I’m in a towel!”
You roll your eyes, lifting your knee to get a better grip on the tray of sausages in your hand, “I’ve seen you in a fucking towel before. Now would you-“ you glare at him.
He opens the door slowly, it’s not even open completely before you’re barging in and taking off your shoes. You make a beeline for the kitchen and set the heavy tray of sausages down.
“Now you’re supposed to heat-“ you whip your head around to look at him, only for your eyes to bulge out of their sockets, jaw touching the ground.
“Oh thanks,” Jungkook makes his way to the kitchen and inspects the tray of sausages.
“I- I’m- Hmm- You-“
He glances at you, “what?”
You’re trying, desperately, to keep your eyes on his face, but your gaze drops to the smooth expanse of his very large chest and broad shoulders. Wondering how the fuck you missed the fact that Jungkook has been working out all these years.
You notice that more scales dot his skin, the majority of it is on his shoulders, but why are you salivating at the scales that line the sides of his waist, skin-colored throughout. Water trickles down his pecs, his slippery skin makes you follow the stream of water, all the way down to his belly button, throat going dry when you see the strands of hair collected below it and if you dare to go any further, you might-
This is your snake hybrid best friend of over eighteen years, the one who had the front seat in witnessing the most embarrassing moments in your life. A little show of his beefy skin and you’re acting up? No, your pussy is not clenching right now.
His tongue flicks out as he peels the plastic wrap from the tray, you know he does that to smell better.
Your gaze is locked on the way his veins pop out with his movements, wondering how it would feel to have his pretty fingers around your-
“You okay, precious?”
Was his lisp always that hot? The way his tongue sticks out on the last letter, you avert your gaze to the food placed in front of him.
You clear your throat and back away from the kitchen, in the direction of his lounge, “you’re supposed to heat those before you eat them.”
He shrugs, “they’re pretty warm to me.”
“That’s because I was standing out there for almost an hour,” you mumble, knowing that he can probably hear you, but you couldn’t care.
Getting comfortable on the couch, you’re browsing the options of Netflix when he sits down next to you, no clothes, just towel.
He hums, eyes focused on the screen.
“Aren’t you supposed to be like…cold?”
Your breath catches in your throat when he curls into your side, fitting his hands in your jeans pockets, “you’re warm enough.”
You should be accustomed to his cuddles and habits by now, yet here you are, a hot, squirming mess as you push him away from you, fist making contact with his chilled shoulder.
“I think you should, uhm, put on some clothes,” you scratch your temple, focusing on the remote in your hands.
You see him nod in your periphery, “okay,” your breath hitches when you feel him lick the skin under your ear.
“I’ll be back.”
As you watch him disappear down the hall, you take a moment to calm your racing heart. That is another habit you know that you should be used to by now, but why did your stomach flutter. Your hand reaches up to wipe the wet spot under your ear, cheeks heating.
His apartment is always so warm, it only makes you even more nervous for whatever reason.
After a few minutes, he returns fully clothed, black hoodie and shorts on, dragging his fluffy blanket behind him.
He drapes it over your backs, an arm secure around your shoulder as he settles in next to you.
“What are we watching?”
You realize that you’ve been daydreaming instead of picking a movie.
“Oh, uhm,” you scroll through the options.
Jungkook can sense that you’re uneasy, your heart is thundering in your chest, and he wonders if he’s making you uncomfortable. He knows that you don’t mind sharing your warmth with him, and he made sure to check that he looks…normal after he changed, so why are your hands trembling?
He taps your arm with the hand that’s around your shoulder, you look up at him but not quite in his eyes, oh no, he hopes this isn’t another episode, he thought he had it under control after struggling all weekend, beating his dick raw with thoughts of you, how your laughter plagued his mind. All he could think of was how much he wants to call you his.
“Is something wrong?” His voice is timid, like he doesn’t want to scare you away, because he really doesn’t.
You swallow, shaking your head and going back to staring at his TV screen.
“You know I can sense when something is up, right?”
Of course, how could you forget that. You wonder if he can sense the way a shiver runs down your spine each time his chest makes contact with your back.
“Yeah. I’m good. Just…looking for a movie.”
Jungkook isn’t having it and he pulls the blanket off your bodies, begrudgingly moving away from your heat.
You glance at him, “what?”
“Y/N,” he grabs your hand, warm fingers intertwined with his icy cold ones, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you all weekend. I wasn’t feeling…well.”
“You could’ve told me. I was worried.”
He nods, eyes flitting to the screen, “I’m sorry.”
Heart clenching at the way his mouth curves into a frown, you tug on his hand and pull him into your embrace, letting him rest his head in the crook of your neck. You’re lucky he can’t see your face, you can feel it heating up, especially when he places his cool palm on your thigh, enjoying your warmth, while you try to calm yourself as he continues to rub.
Jungkook’s tongue flicks out once, twice and the third time, he cannot be mistaken, he can smell it on you. It can’t be himself because he knows what he smells like, but this is a sweet, musky smell that radiates off you. His own heart thunders in his chest.
Experimentally, he presses his fingers into your thigh and when his tongue darts out, the scent is amplified, a new scent. He can feel the blood rushing down, panting as he looks up at you.
You can sense that he’s staring at you, so you glance at him, only for your gazes to lock, lips a few inches apart. His eyes seem to lure you in, like he’s hypnotizing you.
“Jungkook…” You whisper breathlessly, gaze flickering down to his lips.
When his tongue pokes out, you wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you, but you see him lean toward you and your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving as you wait for the sweetness of his mouth to meet yours.
Your eyes fly open when you feel him move away, watching him stand up and scratch the back of his head. The terrible feeling of being out of place hits you full force and you let the remote fall on the couch next to you.
It was your imagination, why would Jungkook want to kiss you out of the blue?
You cuddle all the time and here you are, taking advantage of his hybrid instincts. All you feel is bitterness and disgust for your actions.
The silence makes you spring up from the couch abruptly, you pick your bag up off the coffee table and walk past him, only for you to be rooted to the spot by the grip he has on your hand.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I just-“
“Don’t,” you grab his arm and pull your hand out of his grip, seeing him shiver when your fingers graze his scales, “don’t make it more awkward than it already is.”
And for the second time, he watches you go, unable to ignore the pang in his chest any longer.
Jungkook wants to feel your lips on his, terribly. It’s all he can think about after he saw the way your face relaxed as you leaned in, pretty eyelashes fluttering, luscious pout only a breath away, but he ruined it. Because he’s afraid, afraid that once he has a taste, he’s going to lose control, and he doesn’t think he can hold himself back any longer if he were to even be in the same room as you.
A major part of him is sad that you didn’t even message or call him all week after what happened last week Tuesday. But the more sensible part of him is at ease, he wouldn’t have to be on edge in your presence. But he does miss you, he misses your warmth and your smile, how you would trace his features with your index finger, telling him how lucky you are to have a friend like him.
As the memories flood his mind, the urge to claim you as his intensifies and he hates that he’s some predator, hates the fact that all his life, he’s been trying to protect you from danger, when he’s the biggest threat all along. And there’s only one way to protect you from himself, no matter how painful it might be.
But while Jungkook struggles with his own daunting thoughts, you’re clutching your phone close to your chest, debating on whether or not you should call him.
Your pride wants you to never see him again, he turned you down. But the soft spot you have for him pressures you to put everything aside and reach out to him, because he’s your best friend and the more you think about it, for your best friend to suddenly pull a move on you, like what you had done, can be overwhelming.
You think of the way he refused to meet your eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets for comfort. What you did was the opposite, you put him in an uncomfortable situation and then got angry at him for not reciprocating your sudden attraction toward him.
You’ve heard tons of stories, of hybrids and their owners, and how they’re adopted for the sole purpose of pleasure. It disgusts you and you think of the stunned look on Jungkook’s face, and how you crossed the line.
It makes you bury your face in your pillow, fists pressing into the plush blankets, it’s sickening. And you have no idea how to come back from this because you miss Jungkook and you love him, more than you realize.
Jungkook hates it, he hates the saying, “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” because what the fuck is that?
If you’re staying away from someone, it’s for a valid reason, but due to the fact that you’re apart from them, you want to be in their presence, you yearn for every atom of their being and it’s upsetting.
He needs to stay away from you, for your own good, his condition is worsening as the days go by. And along with that, he wants you, even more with each second that passes by.
Every little thing sets him off, and he refuses to look at himself in the mirror.
He can hear someone outside of his front door, so he listens, and opens it when he gets the familiar scent from his neighbor.
“Jungkook! You haven’t been checking your mail,” he’s looking down at the stack of envelopes near his feet, “so I thought I’d check on you!”
He chuckles, “So- Woahhh!”
Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair, “what do you want?”
Namjoon has lived near Jungkook long enough to know that he isn’t a threat, but Jungkook finds himself hesitating before he lets the sloth hybrid in.
“You look sick. Are you eating?”
Jungkook shrugs, “yeah.”
“You know you’re still human, right? You need to eat.”
“For fuck’s sake! I know that, now what do you want?!”
Jungkook watches the older man’s eyebrows shoot up, “I already told you I came to check up on you! You invited me in!”
Jungkook sighs and sits down on the couch next to him, the cold that wafted in when he opened the door makes him shiver. He tugs the lapels of his jacket and holds it close to his body.
“I haven’t seen Y/N around. She usually knows what to do when you’re sick.”
Jungkook shakes his head, “she hasn’t been calling.”
“Did something happen between the two of you? She seemed very angry the last time I saw her.”
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow in his direction and Namjoon waves his arms around, “I’m just kidding. But I can sense something is off with you.”
Jungkook wets his lips, stuffing his hands in his sleeves. Maybe Namjoon would know what his changes could mean, he does have hybrid friends who are also predators.
“I just- haven’t been feeling good around her lately.”
Jungkook nods, “I just, hate to see her with anyone else and I hate it when she’s out of my sight. Like every time I’m with her, I just want- Fuck-“ he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “it’s so hard to explain.”
“You just want…fuck?”
“What?” Jungkook lifts his head to look at the tall man who slaps his knee, laughing at his own joke.
He adjusts his glasses, “you solved it yourself. You want to mate with her.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it but the energy in this room-“ he gestures to Jungkook’s hunched figure “-is telling me all I need to know. I’m not all human, just like you. You’re forgetting that.”
“Wait,” Jungkook shuts his eyes, “what do you mean I need to mate with her? All the woman I sleep with are hybrids, like me. Like you.”
“So?” Namjoon folds his arms, “that doesn’t mean anything.”
“I am so confused.”
“Look,” Namjoon reaches over to hold Jungkook’s shoulder, then removes it as soon as he feels the cold seeping through the thick material, “I might be wrong. But from what I can recall, you and Y/N know each other since you were little kids. Maybe you’ve become a little territorial over her and now you’re acting up. It’s gone too long, you’re with each other almost all the time. You want to seal the deal.”
“Seal the deal?”
“Yes, anyway-“ Namjoon pats his thighs and heads for the door “-I’m gonna leave before you bite my head off…I thought it might be rude to leave in the middle of the conversation but shit. You’re scaring me.”
With an overdramatic shiver, he leaves the apartment as Jungkook rushes to the bathroom, almost slipping on the tiles when he stares at his reflection.
Ruby pupils widening, blinking at him, fangs protruding.
Today’s the day that you decide; fuck it.
You’ve known Jungkook for a long, long time and nothing can ever come between the two of you, not even your pride or embarrassment.
So, you knock on his front door and wait, going through the apology you practiced a thousand times.
When he opens the door, your mouth hangs open, it’s like your eyes are being blessed by his ethereal features for the first time. You resist the urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.
“Come in,” he pulls you inside his apartment by your elbow, “it’s cold.”
You linger at the doorway, like it’s the first time you’re visiting him. A different smell reaches your nose, but before you can place the scent, he’s ushering you into the lounge.
You sit next to him on the couch, a safe distance away. It’s too late to dismiss everything that happened because the silence sits heavy, and you both know that there’s something to discuss.
“I just wanted to say,” you begin, fists clenched, “I’m sorry for coming on to you the other day.”
“Coming on to me?”
You lift your eyes at his tone, watching him laugh, exposing his pearly whites to you.
“You didn’t come on to me, precious. In fact,” he scoots a little closer to you, you look up at him a little wide-eyed, “you pushed me to…”
“To what?” You poke, wondering why he’s blushing.
“To tell you how I feel.”
“How you feel?”
He nods, slotting his thighs between yours as he turns his body to face you. When your gazes lock, you realize just how much you missed him, and how much you missed about your relationship all these years.
“I- to put it simply- love you, Y/N. All my life I’ve loved you,” your breath hitches at his confession, heart leaping to your throat, “but,” he grabs your hand, thumb rubbing your knuckles, “I’m afraid.”
Your voice is just above a whisper, like any sudden movement or noise from you would break the tenderness of this moment.
“Afraid that I might hurt you.”
“You have never, ever hurt me, Jungkook.”
“No…not like that. I’m afraid that I might hurt you.”
You shake your head, palms reaching up to cup his cheeks, warming them with your thumbs, “you won’t hurt me.”
He places his hands over yours, “how do you know that?”
His eyes swirl with worry and sadness, and you want to replace it with what you love seeing the most on him.
“I don’t,” you smile, “but all I know, is that I love you too. And even if you do hurt me, I’ll forgive you.”
He tilts his head and kisses your palm.
“Only if I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” you add with a giggle.
He joins in your laughter and wraps an arm around your waist, pressing his forehead to yours and flicking his tongue against the tip of your nose.
“Does this mean that you’re mine now?”
“I’m not sure,” you smooth your hands up his arms to his shoulders, loving the way he trembles under your touch, “do you want me to be yours?”
His breath tickles your lips before his tongue darts out to wet your flesh, panting when he hoists you up on his lap.
“You have no fucking idea.”
The first touch of his lips on yours makes you feel like you’ve finally found a missing piece you never knew you lost, moving over yours gently, raking his fingers through your hair as he presses you closer to his cool body, a perfect contrast to the heat that’s bubbling inside of you with each press of his lips.
You sneak your hands up his hoodie and nothing could prepare you for his first lick inside your mouth, you’re moaning, back arching as your fingers dig into his pecs.
He hums, slotting his thigh between your legs and pressing you down by your hips.
“Jungkook,” you throw your head back, rocking back and forth on his thigh as you let him control your hips, enjoying the friction his thigh provides on your clit.
You bury your face in his neck, mouthing up his neck, hearing him sigh in satisfaction when your lips brush over the scaly skin under his ear.
You feel him bury his hands in your jeans pockets, squeezing your ass through the denim material. Whining, you lift your head up to look at him, telling him that it isn’t enough.
“Come on, precious,” he lifts you up by your ass and carries you down the hall. His natural accent makes your pussy throb in need.
Before you can reach his room, you attach your lips to his, tugging at his dark strands of hair and swirling your tongue around his, pressing your hips against him when you feel a glob of his spit enter your mouth, lips slick with his saliva.
He pulls away from you and you look up at him, “what?”
“Nothing,” he grins.
You kiss him sloppily, feeling your hole clench uncontrollably, “please.”
He sets you down on the floor and tugs off your jeans and panties in one go, you spread your legs open for his touch, shivering when his cool fingers part your folds.
“So sweet,” his tongue darts out rapidly to lick your arousal off his fingers.
Body tingling in need, you grip his hair and pull him up, he holds your thighs and wraps them around his waist again, pressing you against the wall.
“I need you,” eyes on his, nails pressing into his scalp.
His hand slithers down your body, “let me-“
“No,” you push your hips forward, staining his hoodie with your juices, “need you now.”
Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been attracted to him, without you knowing it, but you feel the desire for him fizzing through you. You’ve never been this desperate to have anyone before.
He suckles on your bottom lip, holding you up with one hand. You feel him reach between your bodies, pulling out his cock and-
You pull away from him with a loud smack, gasping when you catch sight of his…cocks.
“Jungkook,” you whisper, eyes flitting up to see the shit eating grin on his face.
You can’t tear your eyes away from the red tips, leaking and swollen, veins branching out on each one. You find yourself licking your lips.
“Shhh,” he presses his mouth to yours, hand stroking one of his girthy cocks, “you want me?”
You nod, getting a better grip on his shoulders.
“You can have whatever you want, precious,” with a snap of his hips, he eases into you, your eyes shut, mouth open in a silent moan as your walls burn with each inch, stretching over his cock.
When he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he places his index finger under your chin.
“You okay, precious?”
“Mhmmm,” you grind your hips against his, asking him to move.
He adjusts his hold on your ass and draws his hips back, you cry out when he pushes back into you, feeling his other cock press into your thigh, gasps of his name leaving your lips, nails dragging across his shoulders.
With another slow thrust, he sets a pace, thick cock dragging against your walls, hissing and grunting as the tip presses deep inside of you. Jolting in his hold, you suckle on the skin of his neck, muffling your whimpers when he brushes that sensitive spot inside of you, plunging a little faster, the warmth of your walls accommodating his cold, hard dick, piercing into you.
You feel the knot build in your abdomen, moving your hips with his, clenching around him, coating his length with your arousal. He’s panting, one hand pressed against the wall behind you, hips snapping against yours.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
Feeling his dick twitch against your walls, you wrap your arms around him a little tighter, walls squeezing him in until finally, the pressure snaps, walls quivering around him, dragging him to his own high. With a drawn-out groan, he stills his hips, fingers digging into your ass.
“Fuckkk,” his hips jerk with each spurt of cum, and when his head lolls forward, you meet his gaze, blood red eyes, lust written all over his features.
You shiver when he pulls out of you, feeling his cum seep down your folds. He holds you close to his body as he carries you to his room, setting you down carefully on the bed and peppering kisses and licks all over your neck and face.
He stares down at you, fingers tickling the side of your face to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder.
“Am I dreaming?” He murmurs, no space between your bodies, heart racing in your chest.
You turn your head away, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze, smile spreading across your lips.
“I don’t think I am.”
You give him a confused look.
“Even my dreams don’t do justice to your smile.”
Before you can complain about how cheesy that was, he’s covering your mouth with his, lips detaching so he can pull off your shirt along with his hoodie.
He reaches behind you to unhook your bra, the white material joining the rest of your clothes on the floor. His fingers tweak your nipples, tongue flicking into your mouth, spit mixing with his.
When you buck your hips against his, you feel his cock dig into your stomach.
Hastily, he kicks off his pants and boxer briefs, then positions himself between your legs, kissing down your stomach, wetting each spot his lips touch. Your pussy clenches in anticipation, legs spreading, swollen folds being exposed to his hungry gaze, his cum still drips out of you.
“Fuck,” he positions himself on his stomach, eyes glued to yours when his tongue rolls against your clit.
“Ah- Jungkook, fuck,” you’re trembling, hands grasping his sheets beneath you, hips jerking against his face as he laps up your slick. His hand slides up your body, thumb and forefinger tugging at your nipple.
The sensation is nothing like you’ve ever felt before, the way his tongue seems to be everywhere at once. Suckling on your clit, thrusting into your hole, cold to hot, waves of pleasure washing over you.
When you feel his middle finger circle your hole, you comb your fingers through his silky strands of hair. He pulls your clit between his lips at the same time that he adds his index and ringer finger inside of you, a choked moan breaks from your chest.
You’re writhing with each thrust of his fingers, each suckle of your throbbing clit between his lips, you’re extremely close to the edge, gushing around his fingers and when he curls it, the pads of his fingers brushing your sensitive spot, you scream his name, with his teeth grazing your clit.
You can hear him moan along with the squelching sounds of his fingers being plunged inside of you at breakneck speed, eyes opening a bit to see him pressing his hips against the mattress. The sight itself sends you tumbling into your second orgasm, body flushing when he places his lips over your hole, slurping up every drop. His hand lands a harsh smack to your folds, sending sparks up your spine, a string of your slick sticks to his hand. When he does it again, your fingers twist in his hair, humming when his tongue flicks up your clit lightly to soothe the ache.
When he sits up, you notice that his abs are glistening, half-hard cocks coated in his own arousal.
You’re breathless, “did you-“
He presses his full weight onto your body, feeling his stickiness cling to your skin, breaths mingling, “you’re so fucking hot, Y/N. Fuck, can’t believe you let me have you. Can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”
Grinning at his words, you place a hand on his shoulder and push him down on his back, kissing and nipping at his collarbones, palm tracing the scales on the side of his waist, you hear him take a shaky breath, fuelling your arousal.
You suckle on every inch on his skin, worshiping his body with each flick of your tongue. The wet muscle dips into his navel and he tenses, hand pressing on your head, pushing you further down his body.
You salivate at the sight of his cocks standing proud and erect, precum dribbling out.
You wrap your hand around one, letting your spit trickle down his length, placing kittenish licks around his head, seeing him rest his head against the pillow, Adam’s apple bobbing when the tip of your tongue grazes his frenulum.
His cock twitches in your hold, “don’t tease.”
Pussy throbbing at his tone, you cover the tip with your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you sink down, hearing him hiss, hips lifting of the bed as you pull him out of your mouth, then push him all the way to the back of your throat. You gag, taking a deep breath through your nose then pulling your mouth off his length.
Jungkook thinks he’s going to explode. Your hot mouth sucking on his dick, closing around him, tight throat squeezing him in. He can’t control the moans that escape his lips, fingers pressing into your head. He’s trying so hard not to cum, he loves the way your hot spit feels on his cock and when you wrap your tiny hand around his other cock, pumping him with each bob of your head, he whispers your name, thrusting into your mouth and fist.
He's so close to the edge but he bites down on his lip, holding back to relish in the pleasure you’re providing him. One look at your eyes has him twitching in your hold, how innocent you look with his cock in your mouth, so eager to please him.
“So fucking good.”
You swallow around him, keeping him at the back of your throat while you twist your hand around his head, you see him bang his fist on the bed before his nails dig into your scalp, pulling you off his pulsating cock. You let go of his other cock and throw your leg over his torso, positioning his cock near your slit.
In the blink of an eye, you’re under him, hands held above your head, thighs spread far apart.
“Had your fun, hmm?”
You swallow, unable to speak after his sudden movement knocked the air from your lungs, gaze unwavering.
He chuckles, the sound sends a shiver down your spine.
“Now I’m gonna have my fun.”
Still holding your hands above your head, he reaches down with his other hand and slaps your clit with the tip of his dick, thighs shaking beneath him.
Pressing his chest to yours, nipples digging into his muscular chest, he pushes into you, you gasp, his cock buried inside your pussy feels like a new sensation, as if he wasn’t fucking you a few minutes ago.
Your mind is blank, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he starts to pound into you, the sounds of skin slapping against skin the only thing that registers in your mind, and the way his other cock rubs against your thigh.
Your fingers wiggle in his hold, wanting to provide a similar sensation to his neglected cock, but he growls, fucking into you harder, deeper, tears glaze your eyes with how good it feels to have his cock massage your walls. He places his other hand on the side of your face, and you tilt your head to look at it, then back at him.
He smirks. Hand inching closer to your body until finally, his fingers press on either side of your throat, pulsing with each thrust, pussy clenching around him, body sparking with lust.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing me in. So fucking tight.”
When he presses deep inside of you and grinds his hips, thumb and fingers pressing into your neck, your mind becomes hazy, thoughts filled the way his length splits you open. When he nips at your soft skin below your ear, you cum, milking his cock as he shoots his load inside of you, thrusts becoming shallow, cock tugging at your ridged walls. You feel full, stuffed and when you glance at your stomach, you notice a slight bulge, he follows your gaze then winks at you, tongue wetting his lips.
You want to cover your face but he’s still keeping your hands in his hold, watching you closely.
He pulls out of you and pumps his other cock, sweat dripping from the wet strands of his hair, your hands fly to your sides when he lets go of your wrists.
Pussy still clenching, you guide the head of his cock to your clit, jolting as you hold the tip of his cock between your folds and move your hips, your slick aiding in the smooth movement of his cock between your lips, spreading you open. He watches with wide eyes, then finally throws his head back and cums all over your stomach, laughing breathlessly when he notices your amused expression.
He lands next to you on the mattress with a soft thump, smiling in a way that you could describe as lovestruck.
“Why didn’t we do that before?”
Your thumb wipes away a bead of sweat from his temple, “you only fuck hybrids.”
“And you only fuck humans.”
Scoffing, you lift your hand to smack his arm, but he grabs it and pulls you into his cold embrace, your ear presses to his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat. Your chest feels overcome with warmth and a range of emotions that are still sinking in.
Despite feeling exhausted, you’re wide awake, tracing patterns on his sides.
“I’m sorry I pushed you away.”
“I did,” he kisses the top of your head, “I thought I might lose control.”
You look up at him, eyebrows furrowed “lose control? Baby, you might be half-snake but you’re still human.”
Jungkook tries to hide the blush that paints his cheeks at your nickname. His heartrate picks up when you kiss his dimple, he rambles on.
“You know, with the red eyes and pointy teeth.”
Giggling, you bring your face to his level, hair draping across your shoulders. He pushes the strands away and kisses your shoulder.
His eyes close, tongue flicking out to lick your cupids bow.
When you notice that he’s falling off to sleep, hands tucked between your warm thighs, you call his name, he hums in answer.
“Your eyes were red the whole time.”
Beady eyes fly open, glaring at you while you laugh.
a/n: feedback is appreciated.
taglist: @ggukkieland @moonchild1 @mwitsmejk @fancycollectormoon
1K notes · View notes
a bts hogwarts au drabble series
Welcome to Spellbound! These drabbles will be loosely connected, and all the characters will be in the same universe. There is going to be some overlap and continuity within the drabbles, but you should be able to read them individually and in whatever order.
I was going to focus this on Jungkook x reader, but the gods of fate (and writing ofc) laughed in my face. I'm going to be writing at least one for each member (possibly more since there are other pairings hehe).
genre: hogwarts au, e2l, fluff
pairings: jungkook x reader, yoongi x jimin, namjoon x jin
taglist: open (just send an ask)
drabble #1: a normal friday afternoon
You and Jungkook get into trouble during Potions class.
drabble #2: how the turn tables
Jimin needs help with Charms, or does he?
...and more to come!
36 notes · View notes