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btsydtrash · 2 years

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Euphoric Endeavours [19]

vampire bts, poly ot7 x uni student yn

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus’ most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth.

Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger.

It’s too bad that they can’t seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

(angst / smut / yandere / fluff / gore)

Masterlist / i dont have a tag list / find me on twitter / word count: 4.6k

(AN: Hi, all! This story is actually already posted on AO3. But, I decided to post it on here. I have almost 50 chapters of this story up over there, so I’ll slowly be adding them onto here too)

tw: drug use (not by main characters), alcohol, vomiting, crude language, nudity, possessive language

Chapter 19 ‘Intoxication’

The rest of the week passes by quickly, and before you know it, it’s the afternoon of the mixer at the EXO frat house.

You’ve always liked going to parties, dancing the night away until sweat is damp at your temples and your legs ache the next day because of how energetic you were being. You liked dressing up nicely, getting your makeup done and feeling pampered, which is why you didn’t argue with Young-mi when she dragged you to a pedicure appointment, citing your recent class stress as a reason to get taken care of.

After getting your toenails and fingers painted the same opalescent white that shone prettily under the light, Young-mi grabs an outfit from the nearest department store, after scanning the aisles for nearly an hour. There’s a reason why you order clothes online, you can’t stand the lengthy experience of being in a store for nearly half the day.

“What do you think about this one?” It’s a black and yellow co-ord, strappy set. Wide leg pants and covered in sunflowers. It would suit her skin tone prettily, and her toned stomach peeks out, unwittingly seductive. She’s barefoot, but you assume she would wear a simple pair of heels with it to complete the whole look. She gives you a cursory spin, arms out, and her expression is somewhat shy as she asks, “Too much?”

“No, it looks lovely,” you reply. And you aren’t lying, but you’ve said the same thing about the last four outfits she has tried on in the same flat tone. She gives you a nasty look before drawing the curtain closed with a low huff and the sound of shuffling clothes tells you she’s in a bad mood. “Honestly, Young-mi, you’ll look amazing in anything.”

“I don’t want to look amazing, I need to look fuckable,” she grumbles.

“The pants do make your ass look good,” you compliment, with a giggle. “But, the dresses mean easy access.”

You had already grabbed an outfit from the sale rack (you were on a budget, damn it) but you were happy with the quality and the style of the clothes, so you couldn’t complain. It fit nicely, and you know with your hair done and after shaving your legs (finally) you would feel much more confident in it. A small part of you wonders if the boys might find you pretty in it, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the thought so you quickly stamp on.

“Fine, fine. I think I’ll get the first and last one,” she says, rolling the clothes over her arm and handing the discarded outfit to the attendee by the door. The two of you join the queue when she asks, “Are you going to let me do your makeup tonight?”

“You know I’m hopeless at that,” you laugh. “I can just about do my eyebrows, and that’s only after you taught me.”

“I promise I won’t do too much,” she tells you, with a secret smile. “You’ll look amazing.”

Famous last words, you suppose.

———

“You said you wouldn’t do too much,” you groan, staring at your reflection in surprise. You look stunning, you know that. Your eyes are smoked out with a brown and gold, lined with dark liner, and there are some wispy lashes glued to your lids that make your whole face light up. You admit, she’s talented with a brush and some pretty colors, but you worry that looking so… appealing with all this on your face might make you feel self-conscious without it. You gesture to your face with a wave of your fingers, and you mutter, “This is the definition of ‘too much’.”

“Oh, hush,” she says, spinning you back around to face her in the office chair. “Close your mouth.”

You do as you are told. “Good girl.”

She gives you a cute smile and slides some gloss onto your lips before opening and closing her own, looking decidedly like a fish out of water. A gorgeous fish in a white, lace strappy dress but a fish nonetheless. “Do this.”

You copy her gesture, feeling the slick, thick, vanilla-scented gloss stick to your lips. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” she tells you. “Go and get dressed.”

You had been a towel for the last hour, letting her do your makeup and hair to compliment your outfit. Young-mi’s face and hair is done already – a classic makeup look on her face, pinks and nudes and beiges on her eyes and peach gloss on her lips making her appear like the main character out of a romance novel from the 20th century, with pin-straight dark hair trailing down her spine.

“We can leave in, like, ten minutes,” she calls from the bathroom, where she’s touching up.

“I’ll call the Uber,” you tell her, stepping into your heels, stumbling slightly. Thankfully, you are wearing booted heels rather than the peep-toes that Young-mi chose to wear. You couldn’t afford to break your ankle tonight. “Fifteen minutes.”

You sit down in the living room after tugging on your clothes and scan your social media. A few messages from the boys greet you and you smile at their tone.

Jimin apparently was volunteering at the local homeless woman’s shelter tonight until the early hours of the morning, something he does quite often apparently, serving food, buying clothes and distributing hygiene products at the local WalMart. Yoongi was deejaying for the night and had already set out, sending a picture of himself in his black mask and bucket hat combination that sent your heart into a mini-frenzy.

Jin had a Skype call with his Dad about business, and you sent him a few gentle words of encouragement, knowing for some reason he didn’t like talking to his Dad for too long. You haven’t pried, and he hasn’t told you yet, so you are waiting patiently for him to do so at his own pace. Taehyung had spent the last 48 hours in the art studio, working on his mid-term illustration project and had been unbelievably stressed out, so he didn’t even reply to any messages, making you think he had long since fallen asleep.

The others had been actively pestering you for the last two hours, peppering you with cute questions that went unanswered while you had spent quality time with your bestie.

You send them a picture of your face, requested by Hobi once you had told them you were going out. The ones who replied don’t seem all too concerned about you going out, thankfully. The idea of them trying to control your movement, regardless of how much you appreciate and care about their opinion, makes you feel stifled, so when you receive nothing but compliments upon compliments, you feel warm spread inside your tummy.

“Are you done?”

Young-mi’s voice takes you by surprise.

Nodding at her, you let her know that the cab it outside and the two of you leave, giggling the entire way.

“The boys like your work,” you tell Young-mi as you both slide into the cab. To the driver, you tell him the address, ignoring his lascivious glance at your chest and exposed skin. Even though you are wearing a jacket, you feel like his stare is burning through the material of your camel coat, and you tighten it closer to you as if to protect your privacy. Asshole.

“Of course, they do,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a smug wink. “I know what I’m doing, and my canvas was lovely already. It didn’t take much.”

Your phone buzzes and you glance down to see a message from your baby bun.

Joonie-hyung, Hobi-hyung and I decided to go to the party, so look out for us, noona! Your eyes are so beautiful tonight, I can’t wait to see them in person!

Feeling something akin to excitement bubble in your gut as you realize you will get to see the handsome gamer for the first time what feels like ages (you had seen him literally less than 24 hours ago, and yet it still feels like you are going out of your mind with missing his face).

Pulling up at the party, you already feel yourself getting into the mood. You had heard the music pumping from all the way down the street. The walk is quick, hurrying down the road, passing by the oddly parked cars that lined the campus street.

Instantly, you are enveloped by big, long hugs and have drinks thrust into your waiting palms. Young-mi’s classmate and close friend, Seoyeon, kisses your cheek, and you notice that her pupils are blown wide with something that can’t just be alcohol. Drugs haven’t ever been your thing, having dabbled with the odd joint or two in high school but never really pushing past that. She trips up a little in her excitement, and you find her behavior endearing, but you hope she has someone with her that will keep her safe during her come down. Worst-comes-to-worst, it will have to be the two of you.

“YN! You look so pretty!” She compliments, happily, slumping against you with trembling legs. “Have you lost some weight?”

No, you had actually gained some around your hips, but you were happy with the gain of meat on your thighs. Your mom had complained about you losing weight because you weren’t getting regular, home-cooked meals. You shift the blame to Yoongi and Jin for continually filling your tummy with their splendid kitchen concoctions, Hoseok’s consistent late-night treats of pizza and Jimin sneaking bags of spicy tteok into the library for you to snack on after a long day of studying.

Jungkook offered to help you out in the gym if you wanted to lose the weight (“You look perfect the way you are, noona. But if you want to, I’ll help you. I promise I’ll go easy on you. What’s that look for? You don’t believe me?”) but you had never taken him up on it, secretly happy with the wobble and soft skin at your hips.

You drain the mix of red wine and lemonade, humming contentedly at the taste, before going back for a second cup, handing one to Young-mi and another to Seoyeon, who had begun chatting animatedly with some strangers.

Mid-sip, Young-mi jabs you sharply in your ribs, forcing some wine to spurt from your lips in shock. She babbles, gripping your arm excitedly, “Oh! YN! She’s over there. Doesn’t she just look so sexy?”

You look over at the roguish-looking, short-haired, heavily tatted chemistry major who keeps scanning your friend’s with barely-concealed lust in her eyes.

Oh, yes.

She was very sexy, and if Young-mi hadn’t snagged her, you might have given her some attention.

You nudge Young-mi playfully. “She’s totally into you!”

The music is so loud that you need to shout into her ear, so she can hear you.

She looks at you, nervously before she replies, shooting the girl a quick peek, “Are you sure?”

You nod, emphatically, and she takes a deep breath, gathering courage. You nudge her slightly in her direction and say, giddily, the alcohol already getting to your head, “Go for it! Get your pussy wet! One of us has to!”

A heavy hand on your hip makes your back stiffen instantly. It’s only when you realize that the touch is more familiar than you had thought that you relax slightly.

“Who’s getting wet?”

You look over your shoulder to see Jungkook, flushed cheeks and eyes wide, glittering even in the low light of the room, looming over you. (He’s wearing a grey tight shirt underneath an oversized tartan black, grey and white shirt with a matching bucket hat and some simple silver hoops in both of his ears. His hair is a mess of curls, the cherry-red having been touched up and brighter than ever before. He looks edible, if that even makes sense.)

Snorting, you gesture to Young-mi, who is practically stomping across the room to her target. The two of you watch as she taps the girl on the shoulder and leans in, whispering something in her ear, before trailing her hand down her back and pulling her onto the dance-floor.

“I guess Young-mi isn’t coming home with me tonight,” you muse, absently. “Or, maybe she’ll bring her home.”

“She seems really into it,” Jungkook replies, his hand hasn’t moved from where it was resting on the swell of your hip. It feels like it burns through your coat and brands your skin. “Aren’t you hot in that coat, noona?”

He seems concerned and so, even though you weren’t particularly warm now, you nod, and he takes your hand, pulling you through the crowd and leading you into the room off to the left of the door.

“This is where everyone leaves their clothes,” he says, helping you out of your jacket carefully. He hangs the camel coat over the crook of his arm and goes quiet, eyes trailing down the lines of your body, in wonderment. “You look… so beautiful tonight.”

“Young-mi did her job well, I suppose,” you reply, giving him a little spin.

He feels the breath catch in his throat at the sight. The figure-hugging burgundy two-piece clings to every curve of your body, showing off a little bit of your pudgy centre. Jungkook wants to lathe his tongue along your ribs and take your skin into his mouth until bruises the same color as your wretched dress paint your flesh. He licks his lips, unconsciously, feeling the heat he carries for you roar to life, momentarily rendering him stupid.

And, clearly, not in control of his tongue.

“You always look this good, noona,” he asserts, gently. The music is still loud in the background, the bass pounding through the floor, sending vibrations through the soles of your heeled boots, but it’s as if he’s whispered the words directly into your ear canal – they are so clear. “You’re always so pretty to us.”

Shyly, you tuck some hair out of the way, not sure how to feel about the compliment. “T-Thank you.”

He shakes off his lust and he moves to hide your coat amongst the others. You don’t have anything of value in the pockets, so you don’t worry about anyone stealing your things. He turns to you and asks, “How about I get you a drink?”

“I’ve already had two,” you admit, blush creeping along your cheeks. He thinks he’s never seen anything lovelier. “But, I could do with another.”

“You’ve had a rough week,” he comments, nudging open the door and knitting his fingers with yours. “Don’t let go of my hand, okay, noona? I’ll keep you safe.”

The feeling of his large, cool palm caressing your warmer, smaller one makes your stomach flutter wildly. You get bumped by people who pass you by, but he keeps tossing you concerned glances as he storms through the hordes of bodies. When he notices that you are being nudged, he practically pulls you flush to him and uses his larger form to keep you protected. When you spot the other two vampires, they both freeze at the sight of you, and just like with the maknae, their brains seem to instantly turn to mush.

“Joonie! Hobi!” You cry. “You look so good!”

And you mean it.

Joon has on a paisley bandana, a large lavender puffer jacket draped over his broad shoulders, a plain white shirt underneath that, despite the warm temperature inside of the frat due to the gyrating, sweating bodies, and some ripped jeans with some expensive looking sneakers on his feet.

When his wits come back to him, Namjoon hooks his arm around your waist and tugs you off the floor, pressing a kiss to your temple lightly. You hook your arm around his neck tightly and inhale in his heady cologne. He smells just as divine as he looks.

“You look stunning, YN,” he mumbles against your skin, careful to not hold you too tight, despite his raging desire to ravage you right here and now – fuck everyone else. He feels heat lick at his gut and he had to let you go before you feel the press of his need against your stomach, taking a marked step back.

Your eyes shift to the sunshine of the group and you appraise him with wide eyes. Hobi looks like a whole meal in a red and white ‘Rolling Stone’ tartan shirt with a thin white vest damp with sweat from his own gyration and ardent dancing beneath it. Black jeans shredded at the knee and a chain leading from a belt-loop to his pocket. His inky black hair is plastered to his forehead and atop his head is a black cap.

“You’ve been hiding these legs from us,” Hoseok comments, with a lewd wink, practically sweeping you off your feet with how he hugs you. He spins you in his arms and squeezes your middle tightly. “You look gorgeous.”

Shoving his head away from your face, you snort, ears burning, “You’re a pig.”

“But, I’m your pig,” he teases, bumping you before squeezing your waist lightly once. He oinks once, playfully, before hooking his arm around your shoulder, holding you close and tossing a dirty look over your head at a final-year student who had been eyeing your ass too much for his liking.

The possessive part of him wants to reach out and grab it in his hands, just so the little fucker can see you aren’t free to be gawped at, but his good common sense tells him that you would probably gut punch him for even thinking about it, and he is aware that his thoughts alone are stepping over a thick, thick line.

“How about we get some drinks for our YN? She’s lagging behind,” Jungkook taunts, reaching for the shots behind Namjoon’s body. “Here’s one.”

“Give me two, please,” you reply, holding the small plastic coloured glass filled with clear liquid. They stare at you, awkwardly. “You said I’m lagging behind. I need to catch up, don’t I? I don’t plan on remembering tonight, honestly.”

Hoseok gives you a crude look before he clinks his drink with yours, making some spill out and stain the floor. He promises, with a crooked grin, “I’ll make this a night you won’t be able to forget.”

———

“I’m never drinking again,” you groan, wetly, from the toilet bowl, hours later. Hoseok regards you, impassively, rubbing your back in soothing circles, and he winces, slightly, as another wave of vomit spills from your lips and fills the bowl. He presses the cold compress a little harder against the back of your neck, worriedly.

You had been puking now for nearly twenty minutes.

Jungkook isn’t fairing much better, having passed out cold in the car after having thrown up on himself in the backyard of the EXO frat house. He’d gotten into a fight with a partygoer who grabbed you roughly and went full caveman, bumping chests and shedding his shirt as if he were about to wrestle the man into submission. After breaking a bench in their backyard, the boys and a still-babbling you had slid into a cab and arrived at their apartment – not that you remember much of the trip from where you were sat, straddling Hobi’s lap, snoring into his neck while he stroked your back.

Joon had to carry Jungkook, with a sleepy, moody Taehyung’s help (they had called him to come help, considering the younger body was the heaviest in terms of weight and muscle mass), while Hoseok had carried you bridal-style, considering you were no longer able to hold yourself up, holding your heels, that you had tossed off in a huff, in one of his hands.

“I did tell you to stop after the second shot of Ciroc,” Hoseok replies from the edge of the bathtub. He’s holding back your hair and your phone (having dropped and smashed into pieces when you and Kookie thought it would be a good idea to turn the photographer into a walking rollercoaster) in his back pocket. “But you didn’t listen to me.”

You groan and spit up a little more into the toilet bowl. He tuts, sympathetically, and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “It’ll be okay, baby. Let it all out.”

Once he thinks you’re done, he gets you to sloppily wash your mouth out and even brushes your teeth and tongue, admiring your tiny molars in amusement, before getting your makeup off and in some pyjamas (one of Yoongi’s clean jerseys) and into his bed. You wrap yourself around Namjoon’s largest Ryan toy that Hoseok had ‘left’ on his bed the other night when he was having trouble sleeping.

Unexpectedly, you reach out, eyes still closed and cling to the chain around his neck, forcing him to jerk forward, before he disentangles himself, reluctantly pulling away.

“Stob being mean, ‘seokkie,” you whine, eyes rolling open before fluttering closed, as if merely keeping your orbs open was too much work for your alcohol-addled brain. “I- hic- I wanna cuddle.”

He stares down at you, contemplatively, but doesn’t make any move to get into Joon’s bed (the literature major is begrudgingly spending the night in Jungkook’s room, so the younger doesn’t puke in his sleep). You seem to notice that you aren’t being cuddled, so you start frowning (eyes still closed, like the adorable fucking thing you are).

“Why aren’t you- Come cuddle, Hoseok,” you repeat, holding your hands out to him, making grabby hands at him. Steeling yourself, you blink, wetly, up at the dancer, you tug yourself up, head lolling slightly to the side, and slur, softly, “Hobi, don’cha wanna cuddle?”

He lets out a long sigh, scrubbing a hand across his face and takes in your vulnerable appearance. “You’re going to hit me in the morning.”

Shaking your head animatedly, only to stop when you make yourself dizzier, you exclaim, “Won’t!”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” he grumbles, sardonically, moving to stand.

He sheds his clothes quickly, facing away from you, but you are paying attention. The lines of his back are sharp and well-built from years of intense dance training. He always had enticing lines of his body, whenever he wore form-fitting clothes or a belt around his waist, but it’s only when he’s partially nude that you realize just how cinched his waist is.

You burn slightly with envy and, not for the first time, wish your Mom had kept you up with ice skating from a young age. Alas, you had turned to books instead of bladed boots and here you are. His biceps flexing lightly as he kicks into some sweats catches your attention once more and you watch, fascinated, as he throws on a clean sleep shirt. When he’s turning to you, you catch, with wide eyes, the tail end of his abdominal area and- whew.

He’s built.

He quirks his brow at you and asks, smugly, “Like what you see, sunshine?”

He’s grinning at you, bright and warm, despite the early morning hour, and you can’t help but sigh, contentedly, as he slides between the sheets with you.

“Yeah, I do,” you admit, eyes brazenly taking in his form. He smells good, like aftershave and Hoseok, calm and a little citrusy. You lean forward and take another sniff, the warmth from his skin making your head swim. “I like it so much that I d’nt know what to do sometimes.”

He freezes all over, staring down at you in shock. “You don’t mean that, sunshine. You’re drunk.”

“Just ‘cause ‘m drunk doesn’t mean I d’nt know what I want,” you slur, burrowing into his chest.

He sighs but says nothing else, silently observing you, listening, waiting, for a lie.

“I really like you,” you mumble, curling your arm around his mid-section and pulling yourself closer to him, strangely desperate. Slowly, he relaxes under the gentle ministrations of your thumb swirling in light circles on his back. “I really like all of you.”

He lets out a light chuckle at your drunken rambling, pushing some hair from your face to just- look at you. He lays down, resting on his fist, and observes the slope of your nose, the puffiness of your lip, the freckles and beauty marks dotted all over the expanse of your face. Once he realizes you are fully asleep, your pulse (his favorite sound in the world) calm, he begins to trace the marks with his fingers, too enamored with the glow beneath your skin to stop.

“Is she asleep?” Yoongi asks, brow puckered as he steps into the room. One step into the apartment told him all he needed to know about how the night had gone. The smell of vomit, alcohol and tears lingered in the air, like poison, even though Hoseok had long opened the window. “Is she doing okay?”

“She was pretty bad,” Hoseok replies, quietly. “We didn’t realize how much she had drank while we weren’t looking. It’s our fault, hyung.”

He had no problem with her drinking to excess, when she was in a safe space and they could protect her, but in the outside world, she was their responsibility and anything bad that happened to her was at their feet.

“Joon is with Kookie,” he tells the blond. He tries to sit up, but you whine in your sleep and hold him tighter, brow furrowing. In fear of waking you up, he settles back down, gently patting your back to pacify you. He addresses Yoongi with a soft look in his eyes, “You can sleep here tonight, if you don’t feel comfortable leaving her with me.”

“I trust you, Hobi,” Yoongi replies blandly, when he sees Hobi’s tight grimace, but he does shed his clothes and slide into Namjoon’s bed. “I just- I feel like I have to be in here.”

“Better you than Taehyung,” Hoseok teases, an impish grin on his face. “He almost bit my head off for letting her get like this. You should have seen how he was cursing up a storm, knowing she was going to be at a party without any of us. He convinced Kookie, Joonie and I to go, last minute, because he was so exhausted.”

“He’s overprotective,” Yoongi admits. “For good reason. You know how he is.”

Hoseok exhales, turning on his side, moving his knee between your thighs and resting his hand on your back. You relax even further, tucking your nose into the crook of his neck, snuffling slightly. The puffs of warm air against his skin tethers Hobi in the moment, and he brushes some of your hair out of your face to stare down at you, love shining in his orbs. “She told me she likes us.”

Yoongi perks up at that, before his eyes take on a guarded note. “She’s drunk.”

“But still,” Hoseok says, eyes glued to the panes of your face, in reverence. “Drunk words are sober thoughts, hyung. She said it, and she meant it. She wasn’t lying.”

Yoongi pauses. “Hobi…”

“Come over, hyung,” he says, pulling back the sheet and patting the space by your other side. “She won’t mind.”

The blond eagerly gets into bed with the two, careful to not overstep boundaries. He rests on his back, one arm crooked beneath his head and the other resting on his chest above his heart. The two boys fall into a comfortable silence, listening to the sound of your heartbeat, lulled into the throes of sleep, sharing warmth and a sense of comfort that only their bond can create.

- end -

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18), (19)

#euphoric endeavours #vampire bts #supernatural bts #non idol au #vampire bts fic #supernatural bts fic #kim namjoon x reader #kim taehyung x reader #park jimin x reader #jung hoseok x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

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